Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Dad, where the fuck are you? We've been waiting forever, and the sprinter is taking us out to the tarmac any second now. I can confidently speak for the rest of the family when I say we’re leaving for Italy - with or without you at this point."

You ended the voicemail with an exasperated huff and shoved your phone into your back pocket just as you spotted your dad stumbling into the lounge. His bag was slung over his shoulder, half-zipped, with stray belongings teetering on the edge of spilling out.

"Marc, honey, seriously."

Your mom took a few quick steps toward him, reaching to fix the mess of his bag. He was panting, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

"You knew perfectly well what time the plane was leaving, and your assistant arranged for a car - where have you been? Please, get yourself together. We’re leaving now."

Without waiting for his reply, she turned on her heel and followed the airport lounge hostess, her patience clearly spent. You sighed, rolling your eyes at your dad before grabbing your Balenciaga Rodeo tote bag from the table beside you. Then, glancing toward the far corner of the lounge, you called out:

"Luigi, are you coming? My dad has finally cared to join us."

He turned away from the window at the sound of his name, a smile spreading across his face - wide, bright, and brimming with that unmistakable spark of excitement. His deep hazel brown eyes glimmered behind his long dark lashes, with the same eager anticipation as a child about to set off for Disneyland.

"Can’t wait," he grinned, beaming from ear to ear.

As you finally stepped onto the small private jet alongside your mom, dad, sister, brother-in-law, and Luigi, you drew in a deep breath, trying to absorb the magnitude of the moment. The past eighteen months had been nothing short of a nightmare - most of all for Luigi of course, but for your parents as well. They had fought relentlessly for a year and a half, pouring every ounce of energy into the battle that had finally, just days ago, led to the verdict you had all prayed for. The evidence had not been strong enough for a conviction.

The moment you received the news was still a blur - a whirlwind of emotions, disbelief, and a relief so profound it defied words. And now, here you were, standing at the threshold of something… new.

Because the case had been so high-profile, Luigi had been advised to lay low for the time being. While he had garnered unbelievable public support, he was still seen as a political adversary by some, making it too dangerous for him to return to his old life just yet. Your family had already planned to spend the summer at your vacation home in Italy, a much-needed escape after everything you’d endured, and inviting Luigi had felt like the most natural thing in the world.

To an outsider, it might have seemed like an unusual offer - after all, how many defense attorneys whisk their former clients away on vacation? But there was nothing ordinary about your mother’s relationship with Luigi.

From the very first moment they met, an unspoken connection sparked between them - a bond rooted in mutual respect that only deepened with time. Both were sharp-minded, meticulous, and driven by an unwavering passion, understanding each other in a way that could only be described as a soul connection. Your dad, who was also involved in the case, loved him as well, but your mother had all but adopted him, treating him as if he were her fourth child.

During the trial, professionalism had obviously set necessary boundaries, but now, with that chapter behind her, she had cast all restraint aside, practically begging him to come with you to Italy.

"Just think about it! Everyone there is Italian anyway - you’ll blend right in, and no one will even notice you! And Liv will need someone to keep her company too. You know Celine is bringing Ben, and those two are practically joined at the hip!"

You had flushed at her words, embarrassed both by the obvious desperation in her voice and by the implication that you needed Luigi to entertain you, as if the poor guy, freshly released after eighteen months in prison, didn’t deserve a moment’s peace. Although, you could agree that you hanging out with Celine and her fiancé all summer while your other sister was staying back in New York, was not sounding too appealing.

After a bit of persuasion (to be fair, being persuasive was one of your mom’s greatest talents in life), Luigi finally agreed to join you, much to your mother’s delight. She hadn’t been this thrilled about a trip to Italy in years, perhaps ever. At first, he hesitated, burdened by his ever-present fear of being an imposition. He had always despised the thought of inconveniencing anyone or asking for favors. That he finally allowed you to bring him along, to let him stay in your home for the summer, was a poignant and sorrowful testament to just how utterly drained he had become.

You settled into the seat across from Luigi, placing your bag on the empty chair beside you. As you opened it to pull out your headphones and a book, you couldn’t help but notice the goofy grin still plastered across his face. He fumbled with his seatbelt, fastening it snugly before shifting into his seat, his excitement palpable.

With his attention fixed on the window - curious as always, one of his most endearing traits, you took the opportunity to study him. Dressed for comfort, he had chosen the perfect outfit for an eight-hour flight to Europe - a casual black sweatshirt with a fresh white T-shirt peeking out beneath it, paired with a pair of black drawstring pants made from a fabric looking so impossibly soft you nearly reached out to touch it before forcing yourself to behave.

As he sank back into the plush seat, his broad shoulders relaxed, you watched the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. With a quiet sigh, he closed his eyes for a brief moment, a look of pure contentment washing over his face while his head of soft dark curls fell back on the head rest. You felt a tenderness building up in your chest watching his beautiful face this relaxed. For the first time since you met him, dare you say it - he looked genuinely happy.

As the plane made its way slowly down the runway, you let yourself drift into reminiscence, retracing the long, winding road that had led to this exact moment. Simply being in the orbit of his magnetic energy for the past eighteen months had been a privilege in itself. But when you added the fact that he was, without exaggeration, the most breathtakingly beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on… well, let’s just say the countless late nights, the 3 a.m. strategy sessions, and the exhaustion that came with them all felt worth it. And for that, you had your mother to thank - her decision to bring you onto his defense team as a paralegal just months after taking him on as a client had changed everything.

In your very first encounters with him, you could honestly barely focus in his presence. It wasn’t just his face, though that alone would have been distracting enough. The real gravity of him came from something deeper - an almost otherworldly presence, a quiet force that seemed to radiate from within. His kindness, his gentleness, the sheer strength of his spirit - it was impossible to ignore. Even grainy old Facebook photos from his high school and college days, frat parties and nerdy robotics events, dug up by strangers on the internet, managed to capture a fraction of that intensity, leaving people around the world inexplicably drawn to him.

And up close? It was overwhelming. At first, at least. Before you got used to it. If you ever really did.

You constantly had to remind yourself that you were a professional, first and foremost. The last thing you wanted was to embarrass your mom, who had trusted you to be an asset to the legal team. Luckily, no one seemed to notice the occasional lapse in focus. In fact, you were even entrusted with monitoring social media on behalf of Luigi and the case, keeping track of public perception, viral conversations, and how the world at large viewed both him and the trial.

Which meant that, yes - watching thirst traps of Luigi technically counted as work.

Not that you were complaining. If anything, your diligence earned you praise from the team for staying ahead of the online discourse. You made sure Luigi fully grasped the magnitude of the support he was receiving, carefully curating a selection of TikTok edits to show him, while tactfully omitting the more explicit ones. He had enough on his plate without knowing that strangers left comments declaring that their throats would memorize every vein of his dick. That was probably not on his 2025 bingo card, nor something he needed to waste even a second worrying about alone in his cell.

The team trusted you completely with the task, and you even slipped your mom a few pointers on what outfits to wear to each court hearing. Just enough to keep supporters engaged (and not too much to insult her personal style that she was very proud of).

The only person unimpressed with your new role? Your now ex-boyfriend.

Six months into the trial, the relationship ended. It was a mutual decision, but his final text had read: “Go get married to Luigi.”

You had rolled your eyes at the sheer childishness of it. But the moment your gaze landed on the words married and Luigi in the same sentence, even in the most ridiculous context, you felt your stomach flutter. In that moment, you did your best to ignore the unexpected physical reaction, though it left you slightly bewildered. It was just a text, a petty remark from an immature ex that you shouldn’t have spent two years in a relationship with to begin with. And yet, your body had an undeniable reaction, one that refused to be dismissed as easily as you’d like.

Now was hardly the time to unpack whatever that meant. But a summer in Italy, long days at the beach, eating pasta and drinking endless glasses of wine, together with quite possibly the most breathtaking man you had ever laid eyes on? Well… it certainly couldn’t hurt. Right?

Chapter Text

The plane touched down at Pisa Airport just past seven in the evening, the golden hues of the sunset stretching lazily across the sky. As you stepped onto the tarmac, a wave of warm, humid air wrapped around you, thick with the scent of summer. It was a stark contrast to the sterile chill of the airplane cabin, and you welcomed it like a sweet embrace before jumping straight into the waiting car and the beginning of the familiar hour-long drive to your house.

Your parents wasted no time settling into the backseat, immediately fishing out their laptops and phones from their leather bags, fingers flying over keyboards before the car had even merged onto the main road. Work never slept for them. Celine and Ben squeezed into the front seat, as handsy as ever, as they had not already packed on the PDA during the full 8-hour flight. You and Luigi took the middle seats, your shoulders brushing lightly as the car rumbled forward.

It had been two years since you were last here, yet it felt as welcoming as ever. The rolling hills, draped in a lush green embrace, somehow felt like home even though you were far from being Italian. But this time, you actually had a real life Italian with you – a very beautiful one at that. Luigi sat beside you, as effortlessly handsome as ever, not even a trace on his skin from having spent the larger portion of the day in dry airplane air. You, on the other hand, could feel the toll to your face, feeling like your skin was literally cracking in real time.

Panicked, you dove into your bag, rummaging until your fingers closed around your savior - your Rhode Barrier Restore Cream. You squeezed a generous amount onto your fingertips and began slathering it onto your face with the aggressiveness of a rabid monkey.

Luigi turned his head towards you, his dark brows lifting in amusement. “Whoa, what’s going on? Are you applying skincare or trying to punch yourself in the face?” he asked, a teasing glint in his dark eyes.

You exhaled dramatically. “I’m so damn dry, Luigi. That airplane air does nothing for you, and I absolutely refuse to have my skin look like a dehydrated raisin at my ripe age of twenty-six.”

He chuckled at your distress. “I think you’ll be fine.”

“Ok Facecard, whatever you say,” you shot back. “Not all of us was blessed with elite genetics. Believe me, I’d rather spend my time and money on more interesting things than overpriced skincare, but we are not all as fortunate as you and here we are.” You turned towards the backseat. “Mom, why didn’t you bless me with superior genes the way Luigi’s mother did?”

Your mother, barely glancing up from her inbox, muttered, “Ask your father.”

Luigi laughed, his expression softening as he studied you. “Well, for what it’s worth, you look very moisturized. Glowing, even.” He ran a hand over his own face, tilting his head as if considering something. “Actually, I think the flight dried me out a little too. Maybe I should give that stuff a try. If you have a few drops to spare, that is.”

You sighed theatrically. “Well, I suppose I can’t say no to my first request from our esteemed house guest. That would not be very hostess-y of me. So yes, you can have some.”

Before you could hand him the tube, Luigi closed his eyes and turned his face towards you, waiting. It took you a moment to realize what he expected – that he was waiting for you to apply the cream to his face. Your breath hitched as you swallowed hard, staring at the perfect symmetry of his features. This was the closest you had ever been to him, and with his eyes closed, you had the rare opportunity to take in every detail - the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the soft curve of his lips, the slight shadow of stubble tracing his jawline.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you dotted the cream across his face. Three on his forehead, one on each cheek, two along his nose. The sheer intimacy of the whole thing settled over you like a warm embrace, an unfamiliar sensation curling in your chest. It felt nice to take care of him.

Slowly, you began to massage the cream into his skin, your fingertips gliding over his sculpted cheekbones, and your stomach fluttered as you swiped your fingers along the back of his nose. When you reached the rougher texture of his stubble, you lingered a second longer, ensuring the cream was properly absorbed. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the sensation sending a shiver through you that you weren’t prepared for.

“Is this okay?” you asked softly, almost in a whisper. You heard yourself and your heart raced at the possibility of him picking up on your almost sensual tone, but he just made a quiet sound of approval and nodded slightly, his eyes still closed.

Your heart pounded as you finished, trailing your hands down to his neck, blending the last of the cream into his skin. When you finally pulled away, you had to clear your throat before speaking. “All done.”

Luigi opened his eyes slowly, as if surfacing from a dream, his gaze locking onto yours with a soft, unreadable expression. “How do I look?” he asked with a soft smile.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and forced a shrug. “You aight.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before leaning back in his seat, turning his attention to the window, where the landscape was bathed in the last golden remnants of daylight.

As the car finally rolled along the long gravel driveway leading up to our house, the familiar crunch of tires over the tiny stones sent a wave of comfort washing over you. Nestled in the hills of La Spezia, your family’s Italian-style villa overlooked the shimmering Gulf of Poets, where the golden light of the setting sun met the distant silhouette of the Apuan Alps. The driver stepped out, efficiently unloading your bags, allowing you to finally set foot inside the house that you had all been yearning for.

“I can’t believe we’re finally here!” your mom practically shrieked, tossing her open laptop onto a chair with uncharacteristic carelessness before taking in the familiar surroundings. Then, she turned to Luigi, her face softening with emotion. “And I can’t believe you’re here with us.” She pulled him into a long, heartfelt hug before releasing him and making her way into the kitchen.

The entire ground floor had been recently renovated, its old, compartmentalized Italian layout replaced with a modern, open-concept design. An airy living space flowed seamlessly into the sleek, contemporary kitchen with a giant marble kitchen island in the very center, which in turn opened to the outdoor pool area through floor-to-ceiling glass doors. Your mom swung open one of the double refrigerator doors and let out a delighted sigh.

“Thank god for the Ricci’s,” she declared, admiring the stocked fridge filled with fresh fruit, vegetables, spreads, and an assortment of drinks. The Ricci’s, your ever-thoughtful next-door neighbors, had once again made sure your home was prepared for your arrival, a kindness they extended every time you returned, and they knew you had a late flight.

“I know we’re all exhausted, so how about we just make some sandwiches and eat on the terrace tonight?” she suggested. Everyone murmured their agreement before scattering across the kitchen to help. Your dad disappeared into the wine cellar to retrieve a couple of bottles of red, while Ben and Celine took charge of setting the outdoor table. Luigi sliced a rustic loaf of bread, placing the thick-cut pieces into a woven basket, before picking up two bowls brimming with grapes and watermelon. As you stepped out onto the terrace together, the warm evening breeze carried the scent of salt and distant citrus groves.

The dinner table was set beneath the sunroof, offering the most perfect view of the pool and beyond, where the gulf stretched infinitely under the pastel hues of dusk. Luigi pulled out a chair for you with a smirk.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, settling into the chair, wrapping a throw across your lap.

He scrunched his nose in that adorable way only he could. “Well, I try.”

Your dad emerged onto the patio moments later, a bottle of wine in each hand, humming what sounded suspiciously like a Kendrick Lamar song. He was feeling himself, that much was clear. Though he was the hardest-working man you knew, he also knew how to unwind when the occasion called for it.

“Get ready,” Celine laughed, nudging Luigi while leaning over him to place some napkins on the table. “You’re about to witness the other side of our dad.”

Your mom followed closely behind, already transformed into vacation mode. She had changed into one of her favorite summer fits - a bold colorful kaftan that contrasted beautifully with her radiant skin and long dark locks. If you would look even anything like her when you were her age, you would be forever grateful.

Luigi shot her an appreciative glance. “You look absolutely amazing, Karen.”

There was no forced politeness in his tone, only sincerity, and your mom beamed at him in return. She remained standing as everyone took their seats, while your dad went around, generously filling everyone’s wine glasses to the brim.

“Before we start,” your mom began, raising her glass, “I just need to say something.” She glanced at your dad, her expression warm. “This trip means the world to me - to us. Not only is it the first time in two years that we’ve all managed to be here together, but we also have something, someone, incredibly special to celebrate.” She turned her gaze to Luigi, her eyes shining.

Luigi met her stare, his expression unreadable but soft.

“I’ve told you this before,” she continued, “but from the moment I met you, there was this immediate, undeniable bond. It caught me off guard. Let’s just say, Marc and I have had more clients than we can count over the years, and not once have we invited one of them to Italy with us.”

“Diddy is still waiting for his invitation,” Ben quipped, and everyone immediately burst out laughing.

“Oh, my goodness, Ben…” your mom shook her head, trying to regain her composure. “I’m not going to get weird, I promise”.

“Too late,” Celine murmured playfully, rolling her eyes before flashing Luigi a grin to show she meant no harm.

Your mom exhaled, before continuing. “I’ve never had a son, and I… I just…” Her voice wavered slightly before she collected herself. “I’ll just leave it at this: we want to keep you around. We all do.”

You stole a quick glance at Luigi next to you and you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes watering up.

“Should I be concerned that I’m your actual son-in-law and never received a speech like this?” Ben joked, prompting another burst of laughter.

Your mom smirked, giving him a wink. “You know I love you too.” Then she lifted her glass to the table. “Let’s toast to the beautiful ways life brings us together, to unexpected bonds, and to the most wonderful soul who has graced our family. We love you, Luigi.”

You all cheered while your mom moved around the table, wrapping Luigi in a tight embrace. He returned it just as fiercely, burying his face into her shoulder. The moment was so tender you found yourself having to look away, giving them the privacy of their shared emotions.

“Thank you for wanting to keep me around,” you heard Luigi whisper quietly against her shoulder, and at that moment, your heart felt impossibly full.

Chapter Text

The following morning, you woke to sunlight spilling through the narrow gaps in your thick cream-colored bedroom curtains, casting warm streaks across the walls. You felt more rested than you had in a long time, the exhaustion of travel and the shift in surroundings finally easing from your body.

The previous night had ended early. Everyone was worn out from the flight and needed some time to settling into the house at their own pace. Your parents, Celine, and Ben had taken their respective spaces in the left and right lower wings of the villa, while you and Luigi had been given the larger bedrooms upstairs, side by side, each with its own balcony overlooking the water.

After everyone else had gone to bed, you had spent part of the night laughing together, you helping Luigi organize his closet as he unpacked. You were the one responsible for most of the latest additions to his wardrobe, after him losing many of his belongings over the course of his incarceration. You had taken it upon yourself to ensure he had all the essentials of a well-dressed 27-year-old and he seemed grateful to get a fresh start – in more ways than one.

The only items he still owned from before jail, were the clothes he had worn at the time of his arrest. You teased him about his sentimentality, clinging to old pieces of clothing, while he insisted that he was simply being sustainable. But as you unzipped his bag and pulled out an old teal T-shirt with the word "BALI" in bold letters (a relic he confessed to had bought back in 2016) you couldn’t help but giggle.

You had grown fond of looking after Luigi, and making things easier, more comfortable for him. And for the first time, he seemed to be letting you. There was something unspoken in the way he accepted your help - an unfamiliarity, as if he wasn’t used to being taken care of without any underlying expectation. When he thanked you before bed, a simple, quiet gratitude, you felt an odd sense of pride. It was just a closet, just a handful of shirts and pants neatly arranged by color, but for him, it really meant something.

Lying on your back in your soft white bedding you allowed yourself to soak in the quiet luxury of a day with no obligations. No plans. Just relaxation, just time with the people you loved. The night before, you had all agreed that your first full day in the house would be a relaxed one. Your parents had a few work calls scheduled for the morning, but the rest of you were free to lounge by the pool, sip cold drinks, read books and play board games.

When you finally got out of bed, you walked into your bathroom and took a close look in the mirror. Your skin looked so much better today after some rest and an overnight face mask. Radiant even. You washed your face, brushed your teeth, then smoothed on a tinted moisturizer with SPF 50, followed by a dab of cream blush high on your cheeks. A quick swipe of Gisou lip oil over your lips, and a few strokes of a brush through your long, dark naturally wavy hair, now reaching just past your chest after growing a lot these past few months.

Back in your bedroom, you pulled open the drawer where your swimwear was neatly folded and decided on wearing your newest bikini - a Zimmerman set with an ornate floral motif in warm beige, gold, and soft pink hues. The delicate tie details on the bottoms and between your boobs added a touch of sexiness to the otherwise very girly look. You finished the look off with a sheer cream colored open front kaftan as a cover up.

You took one last look in the full-length mirror beside your bed, and you had to admit you were happy with your reflection. You had always had a quite small frame, but being consistent with your Pilates this spring had actually given some results. Your arms and legs were subtly more defined, and if you squinted just right, you could almost see the faintest outline of abs. Almost. Well, it was good enough. Not everyone could have Luigi’s physique.

Speaking of Luigi’s physique, the first thing you saw walking down the stairs was him, leaning against the wall, breathless, his broad chest rising and falling from exertion. He was dressed in a black compression shirt and matching shorts, the fabric clinging to his frame, leaving little to the imagination. You had to focus on his eyes not to let your eyes wander to far down his upper body - his abs were definitely abs-ing today. His skin and dark curls glistened with sweat, obviously just back from an intense run. He stood up when he saw you approaching and gave you a wide bright smile.

“Hey, you’re up!” He looked like an excited puppy to see you and you smiled back.

You folded your arms, arching a brow. “Weren’t dad supposed to go with you running this morning?”

He exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, he did - though I lost him a few minutes in. I swear he took a shortcut, there’s no way he made it back before me otherwise.”

You rolled your eyes. “Did he really think he could keep up with you without cheating? I don’t know if he’s delusional or just suicidal.”

Luigi chuckled, running a hand through his damp hair.

“Are you coming to the pool?” you asked.

“Yeah, in a minute,” he said, pushing off the wall. “Just gonna take a quick shower. Be right there.”

Once outside by the pool, you cradled a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in one hand and a bowl of Greek yogurt in the other. The sun was already high, casting golden light over the water of the pool, making it shimmer. You settled onto the nearest sun lounger, one of many plush recliners arranged around the pool, their sand-colored rattan frames softened by cream-white cushions.

With a sigh, you placed your breakfast and the book you had been clutching beneath your arm onto the small side table. Then, stretching your legs out, you nestled into the cushions, adjusting the pillows behind your back to achieve the perfect reading angle. The warmth of the sun seeped into your skin, slow and pleasant.

Laughter bubbled up from the pool. Celine and Ben were already in the pool giggling, whispering, touching and doing God knows what – considering this was a pool shared with other family members, you felt they were a bit too close to each other for your liking.

“Hey!” you called out, shielding your eyes from the glare of the sun. “Keep it PG, alright? I don’t need to see something I don’t need to see if you know what I mean?” Celine shot you an exasperated look but made no effort to create distance. If anything, she seemed to grind even closer against Ben, deliberately ignoring your remark as they drifted toward the far end of the pool.

A deep chuckle broke your focus. You turned just as Luigi stepped onto the patio. “Liv, leave them alone. Don’t you have a book to read instead of harassing your sister?” His voice was laced with amusement.

He looked, as always, amazing - barefoot, clad in a pair of classic navy swim trunks and a crisp white t-shirt, a beach towel slung carelessly around his neck. He came over to you and sat himself down at the end of your sunbed, placing the towel next to him as the wind carried the fresh, clean scent of him, soap with something faintly citrusy beneath it. He placed a hand on your lower leg - a casual touch, effortless, but you instantly panicked. Could he see that  his mere touch gave you goosebumps?

Clearing your throat, you willed yourself to appear unaffected. “Actually, I do have a book to read.” You picked it up from the table and held it up, adopting an air of seriousness. “Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin. I’m only a few chapters in, but I already adore it.”

His face lit up. “No way. I read that a couple of weeks ago - such a bittersweet, beautiful book. I loved it. And not just because the main characters were nerdy game developers.”

He turned toward the pool, offering you a clear view of the tousled curls atop his head. You had to fight the sudden, inexplicable urge to run your fingers through them. They looked impossibly soft.

Then, as if sensing your stare, he turned back to you, his grin teasing. “Think it’s safe to jump in, or do you think Ben might grope me?”

A laugh escaped you. “Honestly? I’d brace myself for some unwanted touching.”

“Well,” he exhaled dramatically, “I’ll take my chances.”

And then, with a swift, effortless motion, he grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and peeled it over his head, his upper body now suddenly undressed just a couple of feet away from your face.

Your brain short-circuited.

For a moment, all you could do was look away, physically forcing yourself to avert your gaze from the sheer visual assault of him. But it was impossible to ignore – he was RIPPED.

The broad, sculpted chest. The sharply defined abs that seemed to go on forever. And then, lower - the brutal V-line disappearing beneath the waistband of his swim trunks. A lot of free time in jail put to good use, that’s for sure, you thought to yourself.

You swallowed hard. Okay. Breathe.

When you dared a quick glance back, he was stretching, arms lifting over his head, his muscles flexing in the sunlight. Your fingers curled into the plush lounger, gripping it as if it might somehow anchor you.

He looked down at you, entirely unaffected. “Care to join me for a swim?”

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Uh… soon… just a minute… I - ”

If he noticed your stammering, he was kind enough not to comment. Instead, he just shot you one of his easy, devastating smiles.

“Sure thing.” He winked. “Would love to kick your ass in a cannonball contest.”

Chapter Text

The day practically flew by, hours dissolving like seafoam under the sun, until suddenly, it was seven o’clock. A day that had promised nothing in particular had somehow filled itself effortlessly with laughter, conversation, and that golden sense of time well spent with people you loved.

Your parents had joined in later than expected, a new case they were considering taking on had hooked both their attentions far longer than anticipated. But it didn’t seem to bother them, as work had always been their shared obsession - a quiet kind of addiction that bound them both together.

However, they did manage to squeeze in a couple of hours by the pool, your mom reclining in the sun’s fading warmth, quietly smiling and observing everything that was going on. Your dad on the other hand, got in on the action and splashed around with Luigi and Ben, regressing into boyhood the way men often do when water and friendly competition are involved.

It warmed you to see Luigi bonding with Ben - they hadn’t spent much time together before this trip, just a handful of brief encounters before flying off to Italy together. And now, they had been playing like kids by the pool all day. When they weren’t physically challenging each other in various ways, chasing each other, daring breath-holding contests and shoving each other off the pool ledge - they found something to climb or build.

“Did we invite two grown men to this trip or a pair of overgrown toddlers?” Celine asked dryly, nudging her sunglasses down to peer at them as they wrestled a bundle of branches into what appeared to be the beginnings of a raft.

Ben, dragging an especially long branch behind him like a proud retriever, called out triumphantly. “Mangione! Check this out!”

Luigi, visibly impressed, hollered back. “Woah! Where the hell did you find that?”

You and Celine dissolved into laughter, enjoying the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

As dusk draped the sky in soft washes of pink, everyone disappeared to their rooms to get freshened up for dinner, a meal Luigi had insisted on cooking himself. After a quick shower, some light makeup and a change of clothes, you found yourself back in the kitchen first, eager for a few moments alone with him before the others joined.

You perched on one of the tall barstools, arms resting on the cool marble countertop, perfectly positioned to watch Luigi command the space like a natural. He turned to face you, eyes sweeping over your outfit with an appreciative smile. “Wow. You look stunning.”

The way his dark eyes caught the warm evening light made you blush, warmth rising to your cheeks like a schoolgirl caught in a crush. For tonight’s casual dinner attire, you had opted for a pair of loose, high waisted cream-colored satin pants and a white cropped tank top, just a hint of some skin showing right at your waist. You had added a pair of dainty gold and diamond David Yurman hoops as a last touch to elevate the look.

“Thank you. You don’t look too shabby yourself” you complemented him back. “Dinner duties really does look good on you – proof that men really do belong in the kitchen after all.”

You weren’t exaggerating. He was effortlessly handsome in loose navy pants and a white linen shirt, the sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms. With a checkered kitchen towel casually draped over one shoulder you weren’t sure if he had ever looked sexier?

Reaching across the island, you snagged a breadstick from a tray of appetizers he had set out.

“Wine to go with that?” he asked, already uncorking a bottle.

You nodded, mouth full, and he poured you a glass without further ceremony, handing it over with a smile.

“Grazie, chef,” you said, taking a slow sip. “I’m so hungry, and it already smells absolutely amazing in here. Do you want to tell me about what’s on the menu tonight? Or is it a secret?”

“No secrets.” His smile curved boyishly. “Truffle risotto. My fail-safe dish for special occasions. Or, you know, when I need to impress my hosts so they don’t kick me out.” He winked. “It’s simmering in white wine right now, and I’ll finish it off with parmesan and truffle oil. And then a Insalata Caprese on the side of course.”

Your sigh was practically reverent. “You’re speaking directly to my soul. Or my belly.”

“Oh, and for dessert - lemon sorbet. Homemade.”

You could barely contain your grin, your feet kicking under the barstool in unfiltered giddiness.

“How are you even real?” you murmured, half to yourself.

He turned back to the stove, stirring the risotto with quiet confidence. The moment felt so absurdly perfect you almost couldn’t stand it.

“How did you learn how to cook like this?”

Luigi shrugged modestly. “Well, I’m Italian. That helps.” He paused. “But honestly? It started when I became vegetarian. My family wasn’t really…” His gaze wandered off for a bit with an expression on his face difficult to read. “Let’s just say they didn’t really approve. So, I basically taught myself how to cook. My sisters ended up preferring my food though, which was a bit ironic”.

He smiled but that there was a bittersweet tug at his lip at the mentioned of his sisters. You knew his family was a sore subject, but you couldn’t help but to try to linger at the topic for a bit longer. “That’s sweet. What is their favorite dish of yours?” you asked softly, not trying to push him too much. He gave you a soft smile, almost like he knew what you were trying to do. He probably did. “Risi e Bisi. I made it for their birthdays every year.”

He turned around, busying himself with preparing the last details, and by that he made it clear that this topic was done for now and you had no intentions of pushing him further than he was comfortable with.

Instead, you sipped your wine, watching him work. The way he moved in the kitchen was almost hypnotic, his big hands deft and certain, his face expressive with every taste, every adjustment of seasoning. He always had a very expressive face with typical Italian mannerisms, but cooking seemed to bring it out to the fullest and you adored seeing him scrunch his nose, pouting his lips and his tongue pressed to his cheek whenever he got particularly focused.

Suddenly, he moved around the island to where you were sitting, needing to grab a grater from the drawer beneath your seat. He came up behind you and leaned over, briefly steadying himself by placing his hand on the small of your back, right at the part where your bare skin was exposed, just between the waistband of you pants and the hem of your tank top.

The contact was fleeting, innocent in intent, but it sent a shiver straight through you. An involuntary sound catching in your throat, and to your horror it came out nothing short of a moan.

Luigi froze. Your eyes met, and the air thickened with something unspoken. His mouth curved into the slightest, crooked smile, and he had a curious glint in his eye. Suddenly, the palpable tension between you got abruptly diverted by Ben loudly rumbling down the stairs “Mangione! What the hell, man? It smells too good in here. Mr. Perfect really out here ruining it for the rest of us men, I swear to God”.

Luigi chuckled, retreating to the stove. “Liv’s already a glass of wine deep. Ben, come join the party.”

. . .

Dinner was everything you’d hoped and more. The risotto impossibly creamy, the Caprese bursting with flavor and the sorbet bright and clean on your tongue. You all praised Luigi until he waved you off, mock-annoyed.

Afterwards, everyone drifted to different corners of the house: You and your dad had been roaming through a couple of old photo albums you found in one of the studies that you had totally forgot about, while Ben and Celine curled up on the patio under a shared blanket, sharing a freshly opened bottle of wine.

Your mom and Luigi where still sitting at the dinner table, but the plates were now exchanged for the New York Times Saturday crossword. Crosswords was one of your moms’ favorite past times, one of the few things she felt really could take her mind of anything else going on in her life at any given moment.

She had introduced this interest of hers to Luigi during his incarceration, always making sure that New York Times Friday, Saturday and Sunday crosswords were sent to him, telling him that one day he would be free again and they would solve them together. The Saturday one was her favorites, so she had saved them for a few months to be sure that she had enough to bring with us to Italy to fulfill her promise she made to Luigi.

You watched them with a tenderness building up in your chest as they seemed to be deep in conversation – probably had nothing to do with the crossword anymore, just random ideas and topics that came to their minds and that they could not stop talking about. Suddenly your mom threw her head back laughing, like Luigi just told her the funniest thing she’s ever heard in her life.

You were curious about what they were discussing, but didn’t feel like interrupting. You were no dummy, law school at Columbia was checked off you bucket list after all - but the intellectual level of those two could sometimes be intimidating.

They looked so passionate, almost talking over each other, gesturing with their hands - something they had in common and something that your mom, with unmistakable pride, often said had people thinking they were blood related.

Whether anyone had actually said this to her remained a mystery, but that never seemed to matter. In all likelihood, it was nothing more than a product of her own fanciful imagination - a sweet, slightly delusional daydream in which Luigi wasn’t just a dear family friend, but her very own flesh and blood.

“Hey… I think I’m gonna call it a night” you stood up from your chair and stretched your arms over your head.

“Sure thing sweetie, see you tomorrow” your mom blew you a couple of air kisses.

“Sweet dreams” Luigi added and smiled.

“I’ll be dreaming about your risotto, so you don’t have to worry about me” you winked at him, before making your way up the stairs. If he only knew what else you might be dreaming of.

As soon as you were back in your room, you immediately changed into your Skims heather grey boyfriend loose pants and the matching super cropped long sleeve top – your favorite go-to comfort wear. You jumped into your bed, cozying in under the soft covers, set on spending the next hour or two on Tiktok, soon hearing the comforting sound of the house go quiet downstairs, everyone moving into their own rooms getting ready for the night.

Just after midnight a notification suddenly popped up on your screen, interrupting the TikTok you were currently watching - a compilation of Texas congresswoman Jasmine Crockett’s greatest clap backs. It was a text from Luigi.

Luigi Nicholas: Are you sleeping

You: No not yet. TikTok has me in a chokehold. What’s up?

Luigi Nicholas: Just a lot of things running through my mind

Luigi Nicholas: I guess it’s just an adjustment to a new place, a nice bed and fluffy pillows

Luigi Nicholas: Missing my cell lol

You: Shut up lol

Luigi Nicholas : Wanna talk for a bit

Luigi Nicholas: Not if you’re too tired of course

You: I always want to talk to you. You don’t even have to ask.

Just a few moments later you heard rumbling in the hallway outside as Luigi opened the door to his room making his way quietly over to you. A small knock on the door.

“It’s open” you called back.

He peeked in carefully with a shy look in his face before fully entering. “Ok if I come in?”

You scooched over to the side of your bed and patted the space beside you as to show him where to come and sit. He smiled and walked in, hesitant but smiling shyly as he laid down next to you on top of the covers, wearing a grey checkered pair of pajama bottoms and a grey t-shirt. You couldn’t help but to smile at the fact that you two were wearing matching outfits.

“Make yourself comfortable” you said, pulling the covers out from underneath him and pulling them up on top of him, having you two ending up together underneath your plush bedding, warmth radiating from his skin beneath the covers.

“Check this out” you said, breaking the slightly awkward intense feeling of intimacy between you, angling your phone so that he could see your screen. “Jasmine Crockett. You know who she is? She’s a fucking menace, I’ve never laughed so hard at a congress edit before”

You laughed together and watched a few more edits under the same tag, immediately sensing Luigi relaxing a bit, letting his shoulders fall back into the pillows. He was now holding your phone, going back to the TikTok FYP, scrolling along.

To no surprise, the first video that came up was an edit of him. The song Daddy’s Home by Usher blasted from the phone. You felt your stomach drop. He knew that you had been monitoring TikTok on behalf of his case, but that your own TikTok algorithms on your private phone was 80% him as well, was not really something that you needed him to know.

“Oh. Well, there you are” you chuckled awkwardly.

Luigi scrolled again and another edit of him popped up, this time a compilation of his best beach pics set to a Lana Del Rey song.

“And again…” you stammered. “Let’s see…” You tried to yank your phone out of his hand, but he held it tightly and moved it out of your reach with is long arm.

“Stop!” he laughed. “I want to see what all the fuss is about. And I don’t plan on getting TikTok myself, so I must use yours”.

You were blushing. Maybe he didn’t understand how the algorithms work, you thought to yourself - before remembering that he had a fucking comp sci degree. You decided to play it off as nothing, as the option of actually confessing that you’ve spent a big bulk of your spare time this last year watching him online seemed unimaginable.

“Ok, let’s watch a few. But brace yourself. They can get… explicit”. He laughed at your worried face before turning back to the phone to continue scrolling.

Almost an hour later, you were still laying in bed, watching LuigiTok crying laughing.

“Some of these are so fucking funny” Luigi wiped a tear from the corner of his eye from laughing so hard. “You guys left out the spiciest ones for sure when briefing me”.

“What were we supposed to do?” you continued laughing. “Explain to you at your most vulnerable point in life how your mugshot coined the expression Raw, Next?”

Luigi burst into a fresh wave of laughter, his body collapsing onto his back as he sprawled across the bed, the sound rich and unrestrained. He held the screen in front of him.

“Some of these pictures are even new to me? What the fuck is this?” his chuckles tumbling out one after the other, showing you an image of him caressing a rock while out hiking doing a funny face.

“Aw… That’s you and your life partner the infamous Adidas hoodie, a real fan favorite” you smiled at him. “People were looking for it on eBay I swear to God - you could make good money if you ever decide to sell it, I’m sure.”

“I don’t know where it is actually” he giggled. “But this picture makes me miss it. Now I’m sad” he said pulling a mockingly pitiful face, his lips trembling with the effort of holding back yet another laugh. “We had a good life together”.

He scrolls again and you end up on an edit covering a robotics event during his high school years absurdly enough paired with the song “Pony” by Ginuwine.

“You look so adorable here, oh my god” you nudge him in the side. “1200 comments, oh my God… Let’s see. The comments are the best part, people are so fucking funny. They really do love you, I swear” you smiled at him as he opened the comment section and read out loud.

“I just know our Shayla ran that robotics team like the damn navy”. Luigi had to fall over on the side, holding his stomach by laughing so hard. “Actually, what makes it so funny is that they actually do read me quite well? I think I was more stressed when our damn robot got stuck mid contest, than I was during my first court hearing. Why didn’t my team mates just give me that damn control”?

You laughed until you cried again, just the sight of his serious highly competitive little nerdy self with the goggles was so funny.

When the laughter finally died down, you gently plucked the phone from his hand and set it on the nightstand. “I think that’s enough LuigiTok for today.”

“Agreed,” he grinned, rolling onto his side to face you. “Now I guess I’ll head back to my room and stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night. I’m getting pretty good at it - practiced all night last night.”

Your smile faltered, concern flickering across your face. “You didn’t sleep at all last night? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged lightly, the smile still there, but dimmer now, like someone had turned down the brightness behind his eyes. “What would you have done about it? You’ve already been more than kind tonight, staying up with me, distracting me from my own head. That’s more than enough. Thank you.”

There was so much sincerity in his voice, it made your chest ache. “What would I have done? Oh, Luigi, you have no idea who you’re dealing with.” You held up your hands, wiggling your fingers theatrically. “I’m an elite back-scratcher. I have a near-perfect track record for putting people to sleep using nothing but these magic hands. Fresh manicure and everything.”

He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering through the exhaustion in his face. “That’s a bold claim.”

“And you know I don’t make bold claims lightly,” you shot back, your heart starting to pound at your own audacity. “So lay down, turn around, and I promise you’ll be asleep in ten minutes, tops.”

The silence that followed was just long enough to feel charged, like you’d crossed an invisible line neither of you had acknowledged until now. It wasn’t just an offer. It was intimate, familiar in a way that friends maybe shouldn’t be. Your pulse drummed louder, but you held his gaze, daring him to accept.

Luigi hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face. “Are you sure? I feel like I’ve already hijacked your night, and now I’m invading your bed too. I don’t want you to make you feel awkward.”

There was something almost shy in the way he said it, like a boy too tall for his own limbs, afraid of taking up too much space. And that was all it took to make you need him to stay.

“Please,” you said, trying to sound breezy, casual, as though you weren’t hanging on his answer. “It’s only awkward if you make it awkward. Shirt off, though. That’s non-negotiable. Please, Luigi - you’re getting annoying. Just let me put you to sleep!”

His brows lifted, surprise flashing across his face before dissolving into a laugh. “Alright, alright. If you’re sure.”

“Luigi,” you said, mock-serious, “I’m the one making the offer. You’re the one overthinking it.”

Still smiling, he gave you one last unreadable look - half hesitation, half surrender - before rolling onto his side facing away from you and peeling off his shirt. And for a brief, breathless moment, you just stared. His back was all lean muscle and sun-warmed skin, a map of strength and softness that had you wondering how you were supposed to concentrate on anything other than the absurd beauty of him.

But you had a job to do, a very selfless, altruistic job, you reminded yourself. You swallowed hard and placed your hands on his back, tracing the first slow, feather-light strokes along his spine. His whole body sagged into the mattress with the kind of exhale people only make when they’ve been holding tension for far too long.

You smiled, drawing lazy patterns across his skin, your nails trailing from his shoulders down to his lower back, then sweeping up again in soft, rhythmic circles. His skin was warm beneath your touch, muscles shifting faintly under your fingers, and you wondered if he could hear your heart pounding, because it felt loud enough to fill the whole room.

You let your hands wander, brushing down his arms, tracing the line of his shoulder blades, your fingertips drifting up the back of his neck until you met the first curls at his hairline. You hesitated, your fingers hovering just shy of touching his hair, almost like you needed to brace yourself for the moment.

Because you’d been fascinated by those curls since the day you met him, and somehow, touching them felt like something more. Like some invisible door swinging open, a step you couldn’t easily take back. It felt almost too intimate, too personal. And yet you couldn’t resist.

“Is it okay if I touch your hair?” you whispered, your voice softer than the hush between you.

He didn’t speak, just nodded, already halfway to sleep. Your heart swelled at how much trust was wrapped up in that small, silent gesture. You let your fingers finally sink into his curls, the texture softer than you’d imagined, and a shiver ran down your spine so sudden it nearly took your breath away. You closed your eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by how something so simple could feel so big.

Slowly, you worked your fingers through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp, massaging with just enough pressure to lull him further toward sleep. He let out a low, almost involuntary sound, half-sigh, half-moan - and you saw goosebumps ripple across his neck and shoulders. The reaction sent a flicker of pride through you, a quiet thrill at knowing your touch affected him like this.

You kept going, fingers threading through his curls, tugging lightly just to watch them spring back into place. God, he was beautiful. And somehow, he was here, half-asleep in your bed, trusting you to hold this soft, vulnerable version of him.

It didn’t take long before his breaths evened out, slowing into the soft, rhythmic snoring that meant he was truly gone. Mission accomplished. You smiled to yourself, the warmth of quiet satisfaction settling in your chest.

Carefully, you tucked the covers around you both, rolling onto your back beside him. It wasn’t long before sleep claimed you too, your fingers still tingling faintly with the memory of his hair beneath them.

Chapter Text

By the morning, Luigi was gone. Last night felt like a fever dream - one of those fleeting, half-remembered things you couldn’t quite trust to be real. And with his absence beside you in bed, there was nothing to ground it in reality. No warm imprint on the sheets, no tangle of dark curls on the pillow. Just silence. It almost felt like you had imagined the whole thing. The memory of your fingers trailing absently down his back, playing with his hair until his breathing softened into sleep, definitely fell into the stuff of made-up delusional fantasies category.

You tried not to overthink it. It wasn’t a big deal. At least, you told yourself that. But still, your thoughts ran in circles. Why had he left without waking you? It was probably just politeness, a quiet, careful exit to avoid disturbing you. But what if it was something else? What if, in the clear light of morning, he felt awkward about it all? What if he regretted curling into your bed, even though it had seemed like exactly what he needed at the time?

Either way, you couldn’t shake the worry that you might have done something wrong. If you somehow managed to fuck up your relationship with Luigi, you would never be able to forgive yourself. You felt the urgent need to see him, to read his expression, to hear his voice. Anything to calm the quiet panic simmering beneath your skin.

Still, there was no time to dwell. You and your mom had made plans the night before to start the day with a hike up the hill near your house, so you yanked open your top drawer and grabbed your favorite Lululemon set: high-rise leggings and a matching tank in the deep, moody shade Lava Cake. You’d fallen for it instantly the moment you spotted it in the store a few weeks ago - rich and dark, like melted chocolate. Maybe it was silly, but you’d always found that feeling cute made working out just a little easier.

As you padded down the stairs, you had to laugh. Your mom was already waiting at the bottom, Stanley Cup in hand, wearing the exact same outfit.

“Mom, what the hell,” you said, pointing dramatically between the two of you.

It took her a second to put it all together. But when she finally realized you were matching head to toe, she burst out laughing, too.

“Oh my God, honey, I’m sorry,” she said, half-cringing but still grinning. “I guess dressing like your mom wasn’t exactly the fashion statement you were going for.”

“No, it’s fine. Why wouldn’t I want to twin with someone looking as delicious as you?” You walked up to her and wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into a hug, unable to stop yourself from melting at the sight of her radiant smile.

“I’m just a little shocked. When did you sneak off to Lululemon without me?” You made a deliberately exaggerated pout, hoping to convey a sense of mock betrayal.

“Actually, your dad bought it for me,” she said, her expression softening with a warmth that spread straight into your chest. “He passed the store window, saw the color, and said he thought of me right away.”

There was something about the way she said it, that effortless affection between them, that always left you both comforted and a little in awe. You knew that you should be really grateful to have parents still in a loving relationship after all these years - you had enough friends with parents hating each other to understand how lucky you were. Seeing the passion they still had for each other was truly an inspiration, and a reminder of the standard you had unconsciously set for yourself when it came to relationships.

“Marc coming through with the grand gestures, I see,” you teased. “What’s he making up for this time?”

Your mom laughed softly, eyes sparkling with playful mischief. “Where’s Luigi?” You asked, taking  a glance into the main living area to see if you could spot him before leaving for your hike.

“Oh, he and Ben were both up early, so they decided to spend the day exploring the harbor.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Since it’s the first time here for both of them, they wanted to check out all the cheesy tourist traps. You know the ones we’ve already seen a million times before. We’re meeting them downtown later for dinner.”

You tried not to let your disappointment show, since your mom would definitely get suspicious if you made big deal out of Luigi being out exploring the city without you. Why wouldn’t he? But still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Luigi had deliberately chosen to spend the day with Ben to avoid you.

…

The hours leading up to all of you going downtown to meet up with Ben and Luigi felt like they were moving in slow motion - each minute dragging its feet, reluctant to pass. After returning from your morning hike, you and your mom had settled at one of the shaded tables by the pool, opting for a light chicken salad for lunch. The sun hung high in the sky, shimmering off the water, while your mom scrolled through her phone between bites, catching up on emails before she had to head back to work for a few hours.

Celine had gone out to run some errands and left to your own devices, you drifted aimlessly through the quiet house, unable to settle on anything. You stretched out on the bed and tried to lose yourself in your book, but the words blurred together, unable to hold your attention. You slipped into the pool, hoping the cool water might soothe your restless mind, but even that offered only temporary relief. At one point, you even gave the New York Time’s crossword a shot, but the clues might as well have been written in another language. No matter what you did, your thoughts kept circling back to Luigi and worrying about how he felt about last night.

Eventually, you gave up on distraction altogether and decided to take a long shower and to start to get ready for dinner. You turned the water hot, letting steam fill the bathroom as you embarked on a full everything shower. Shampoo, conditioner, a rich hair mask, legs shaved with slow precision followed by a full-body exfoliation. You felt like a brand-new person.

Fresh from the shower, you unpacked your Dyson Airwrap for the first time this trip, deciding your hair deserved the extra attention. Done with your blow out you gave yourself an appreciative glance in the mirror – with your hair bouncing and skin glowing like this, you might as well give your makeup the same level of care.

By the time you were done, you hardly recognized yourself - with your face and hair looking this put together, it only felt right to dress the part. After all, you were taking a car downtown, and all the restaurants was close to the city center anyways, meaning there would be minimal walking involved and an ideal scenario for wearing heels.

After going through your closet for a few minutes you eventually settled on one of your tried-and-true favorites: an Isabel Marant embroidered silk crepe mini dress in a soft cream hue, a color that always brought out the rich darkness of your hair and eyes. It was casual enough not to feel overdone, but with the right accessories, it could easily pass for effortlessly sexy.

To complete the look, you slipped into your gold metallic woven leather slingbacks by Aquazzura, the delicate heel and subtle shimmer adding just the right touch of evening glamour. A few generous spritzes of Tom Ford’s Lost Cherry over your neck, wrists, and the ends of your hair, and you were officially ready.

With a sigh, you glanced at the time and realized you still had a whole hour to kill before the car was set to arrive. All dressed up, standing alone in your room, you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself. If the dinner with Luigi turned out to be awkward, at least you’d be awkward and exceptionally well-dressed.

…

One hour later, finally in the car on your way downtown, the nervous energy inside you had built to a near unbearable level, buzzing beneath your skin like static electricity. The whole ride down the winding roads toward the harbor, your dad filled the silence with a steady stream of gossip, his voice rising and falling from the backseat yapping endlessly about some major drama unraveling at his tennis club back in New York.

Apparently, one of the regulars who you vaguely remembered from summer mixers and charity tournaments, had been living a double life for years, complete with a secret apartment and a pair of out-of-wedlock kids. Normally, you were all about juicy tennis club tea, but tonight you couldn’t focus. Luckily, your mom and Celine seemed invested enough for your dad not to notice you being absent minded.

Instead, you stared out the window, watching the landscape blur as the car snaked down the hill. The evening light turned the sky into a hazy watercolor of gold and pink, and in the distance, you caught glimmers of the sea, soft waves folding against the harbor’s edge.

With every passing second, the knot in your stomach tightened. It was ridiculous, you knew that, but you couldn’t help it. How could only a few hours apart from Luigi make you feel so unmoored? It was embarrassing, really.

The car finally came to a stop at the town’s main square, in all its postcard-perfect small town Italian charm. It almost felt like a movie set - cobblestones glowed warm under the fading sunlight, café chairs crowded with locals sipping aperitivos and children darted between tables, shrieking with joy, while waiters, aprons tied around their waists, ferried plates of pasta and fresh seafood to eager diners.

Ben had texted Celine that we’d meet up here since the square had plenty of options for dinner, and he and Luigi wanted to scope out a few new places they’d heard about. You stepped out of the car and into the golden evening, heart thudding in your chest as your eyes scanned the crowd. You were looking for him. You didn’t know what he was wearing, but your eyes frantically searched for his broad shoulders and his curly head of hair that you would recognize anywhere.

And then, you saw him.

He was standing a little further down the dock, back turned toward you, his silhouette framed against the shimmering water. The sight of him stole the breath from your lungs. His white shirt was half-unbuttoned, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, the fabric ruffling slightly in the breeze. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his dark pants, shoulders relaxed, head tilted just enough to show that he was laughing at something Ben was saying beside him.

Your feet carried you forward before you even realized you were moving, leaving your family behind you and drawn to him like a magnet. Ben caught sight of you first, pointing in your direction, and the moment Luigi turned around, the sunlight caught his face. Sun kissed skin, dark curls, and those eyes. God, those eyes.

For a second, your heart simply stopped.

And then he saw you.

That smile, the one you had been secretly aching for all day, spread slowly across his face, and the sheer force of your relief nearly knocked you off balance. He wasn’t mad at you. It was like your whole body exhaled at once, emotions rushing to the surface so quickly you had to blink hard to fight off the tears threatening to form.

“Hey!” Ben called out, waving enthusiastically. “Hope you’re starving. We just found this seafood place right around the corner, looks insane.”

Luigi stepped past him, his gaze locked onto you, like no one else existed. When he reached you, he pulled you into his arms without hesitation, wrapping you up in the kind of hug that felt like home. He held you there, still and quiet, for just a beat longer than necessary.

Then, with his lips brushing your ear, he whispered softly, “Thank you for last night. You have absolutely no idea how much I needed that.”

Your body softened instantly, heat flooding through you, leaving you almost weak in his arms.

His arms loosened around you, though there was a certain hesitance in the way his hands slid away, as if part of him wasn’t ready to let go. The truth was, you weren’t either. If it were up to you, you might have stayed there, wrapped in the quiet comfort of his embrace, for the rest of the night. But you were heavily aware of your family’s presence and how you and Luigi hugging for longer than necessary would definitely draw their attention, if it hadn’t already.

Reluctantly, you stepped back and dropped your gaze, needing a moment to gather your thoughts. When you finally looked up, your eyes accidently caught your mother’s. A subtle gleam lit her eyes, almost like the flicker of a secret she couldn’t quite contain. Excitement? Amusement? Approval? You couldn’t be sure, but the knowing look made your pulse quicken all the same.

Chapter Text

You walked side by side with Luigi, a few steps behind the others, as the group made their way toward the restaurant that had been the source of so much excitement from Ben. The scent of rosemary and warm bread drifted from somewhere nearby, mingling with the subtle salt air that rolled in from the coast. The air was warm, softened by the lingering heat of the day, and filled with the quiet hum of the village settling into evening.

Your shoulders brushed now and then, and you felt the comforting warmth of his body next to you. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, it was a kind of silence coming from both of you being just content in being in each other’s company again.

“How are you feeling today?” you asked at last, stealing a glance at his profile, the clean line of his jaw and soft curve of his full lips catching the light.

“Better,” he said softly, eyes fixed straight ahead. “Ben and I had a really good day. I like him a lot.”

There was a small, almost mischievous smile at the corner of his mouth, as though even the memory of Ben’s antics amused him. It warmed you to know that Ben had been his usual self - lighthearted, ridiculous, and just present enough to distract Luigi from the darker corners of his mind.

That was Ben to you: someone who people often mistook for a clown, but was, beneath all that laughter, someone who could sense, with uncanny precision, when someone’s spirit needed lifting. He never failed to rise to the occasion, and you loved him for it.

A stretch of quiet settled again between you, the sound of your heels echoing softly against the stones. Suddenly Luigi spoke again but this time his voice was quieter, hesitant.

“I’m just struggling a bit you know.”

You turned to him, and after a moment, he stopped walking entirely, drawing you to a gentle halt just outside the restaurant. The others, already swept into the lively warmth of the restaurant, left the two of you alone under the softening sky.

Luigi faced you fully now, the weight of his gaze both piercing and tender. “I feel safe with you. Do you know that?”

The vulnerability in his voice was almost too much to hold. You couldn’t speak, not right away. Instead, you just stood there, keeping his eyes locked with your own, letting him see that you were listening.

“There’s just this sense of relief every time I get to be close to you,” he went on, his voice rough with honesty. “Even when I was in jail, just knowing you were coming to visit, seeing your face across from me, hearing you talk about normal things, stupid things… It just had my mind feeling like I was immediately transported out of there, being somewhere else, somewhere lighter, brighter.”

His words hit you squarely in the chest, your heart swelling with tenderness so fierce it ached.

“And now we’re here,” you said softly, almost afraid to break the spell hanging between you. “Somewhere really bright.”

Luigi let out a quiet laugh, but it was heavy with disbelief. “I still can’t believe it. That’s part of the problem, I think. My mind doesn’t know how to trust this. It sounds so silly when I say it out loud, but it’s like I’m afraid to believe it’s real, because what if I wake up and I’m back at MDC and all of this was just a dream?”

He swallowed hard. “It’s stupid, I know. But after living with the death penalty hanging over you… it messes with you. It changes you, whether you want it to or not. And I’m scared of what it’s done to me. Sometimes I just feel crazy.”

His eyes dropped to the ground, and the sorrow that settled over him was so heavy you could almost feel its weight pressing between you.

“You’re not crazy,” you said firmly, reaching for both of his hands. His fingers curled around yours, hesitant at first, then tightening as if he was afraid to let go. “What you went through is an unimaginable trauma. You must give yourself permission to heal.”

You took a breath, steadying your voice.

“I’ll be here, for however long that healing takes. I’m not going anywhere. And neither is our family. You’re not alone in this. We are not letting go of you.”

You hesitated only a moment before adding, with all the courage you could muster:
“I will not let go of you. Ever.”

The words hung in the air like a vow, and for a heartbeat, it felt as though the earth itself had shifted beneath your feet.

“You know…” Luigi said quietly, voice almost trembling. “You know the reason I came to Italy was because of you, right?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Don’t tell my mom” you teased, trying to lighten the weight of the moment, but Luigi didn’t laugh. He just kept looking at you, gaze steady, until you felt your face turning red.

“Let’s just have a good time tonight,” he said at last, breaking the moment with a gentle smile. “Your dad’s already making friends, so we better catch up.”

You turned to follow his gaze and sure enough, your father was draped over the shoulders of two waiters in the outdoor dining area, already laughing loud enough to be heard from across the square.

Luigi’s hand lingered gently at the small of your back as the two of you stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the warm embrace of the restaurant.

The place was a dream, the kind of hidden Italian treasure you might stumble upon in a guidebook yet somehow feel like you’ve discovered all on your own. Rustic brick walls glowed beneath the soft light, and wooden beams overhead gave the space a sense of old-world charm.

“There you are!” your dads voice rang out across the room. He waved with a wide grin on his face as he spotted you both walking in.

“These guys just promised us the best table in the house – hurry up before they change their minds” He laughed together with the waiters standing beside him, men he had apparently managed to bond with during the short few minutes that you and Luigi had lingered outside.

You followed your family through the lively maze of tables, weaving your way between tightly packed chairs, the place seemingly fully booked for the night – a clatter of plates, bursts of laughter, and the gentle strains of a mandolin playing somewhere in the background.

At last, you turned a corner and stepped into a secluded space that took your breath away. A large, round table awaited you, perfectly placed at the edge of the restaurant’s terrace, overlooking the water. A low stone wall framed the area, vines of ivy and clusters of bright bougainvillea spilling over the top, their petals catching in the breeze. The waves below lapped softly against the wall, sending up the occasional spray that glistened in the flickering light of lanterns hanging from weathered wooden beams overhead. The ceiling was open to the sky, and the air carried the faint scent of salt and flowers. It was, without question, the most romantic corner of the restaurant.

“The best table for the best man,” one of the waiters declared in charmingly broken English, giving your father a companionable pat on the back. Your father responded with another of his signature half-hugs, laughing as though they were old friends.

“This is absolutely stunning,” your mother breathed, eyes wide with delight. “How on earth have we never found this place before?”

You all eased into your seats, the gentle scrape of chairs against the stone floor. You quickly claimed the spot beside Luigi, unwilling to put even the smallest distance between you after missing him all day.

…

The hours that followed unfolded just perfectly – there was an ease among all of you tonight, the kind of warmth that comes when family, love, and good wine mix in just the right way. Conversation bounced effortlessly from one topic to the next, stories layered over inside jokes and family banter – and watching Luigi partake effortlessly, laughing along with your dad, teasing Celine and even playfully arguing over the correct way to twirl spaghetti made your heart swell almost painfully in your chest.

Celine and Ben were in the middle of recounting their latest, and possibly most absurd, encounter with their wedding coordinator when the desserts arrived at your table. The wedding was still more than a year away, but just like any other ambitious  New York bride, Celine had been in full wedding-planning mode approximately two hours after Ben proposed.

Apparently, their wedding coordinator was just as passionate – last week’s meeting had ended in a full-on crash out when the assigned florist had the audacity to inform them that hydrangeas wouldn’t be in season for their chosen date, and the coordinator wildly decided to hold her personally responsible.

When the laughter finally died down, you all raised your glasses in unison.

“To Celine and Ben,” you said, your smile warm. “Here’s to the wedding of the century, hydrangeas or no hydrangeas.”

You all cheered, clinking your glasses together before you each took a sip. You had just set your glass down when, from absolutely nowhere, your dad blurted out across the table:

“So, Luigi - do you want to get married?”

You felt your drink catch in your throat, coughing hard as your mother did the same beside you.

Celine’s brow furrowed, her gaze darting between you and your mom with a puzzled look on her face. “Okay? Easy there”.

Your mom looked flustered. “Marc, please, don’t put him on the spot like that?”

Your dad, apparently already one too many Aperol Spritzes deep, merely shrugged looking entirely unbothered.

“What? I’m curious?” he said, your mom rolling her eyes. She knew that there was no stopping him when he was in this mood.

“I’m curious too,” Ben added, ever eager to stir the pot. “I mean, let’s be honest, Luigi’s probably the most lusted-after man on the planet right now. My man’s options are endless. He could walk into any room and there’d be at least a handful of women not only knowing exactly who he is, but also fully ready to sleep with him at the blink of an eye.”

You took another sip, swallowing hard, suddenly very interested in your drink. You didn’t dare look at Luigi, not yet.

“Stop objectifying him,” Celine hissed, smacking Ben’s arm.

“I’m not!” Ben grinned, completely unrepentant. “I’m just a little jealous.”

Celine smacked him again, this time harder. “Jesus Christ.”

At last, you risked a glance at Luigi, heart thudding painfully in your chest. Thankfully, he looked amused, eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned back in his chair.

“It’s alright,” he said smoothly, and his deep voice made your stomach flip. “I don’t feel objectified - at least not by Ben. In fact, I wish you’d objectify me a little more.”

“See?” Ben crowed, triumphant. “He likes that I think he’s sexy.”

The table dissolved into laughter again, but you only half-heard it, your thoughts suddenly tangled in knots.

Because the truth was, Ben wasn’t wrong. The way women, and plenty of men, around the world worshipped Luigi was something almost hard to grasp. But hearing it spoken out loud casually like that, made you realized that well, it was the truth. Luigi’s options were limitless, and you didn’t really know how to feel about that.

After the laughter faded, the table fell quiet. When Luigi spoke again his voice was softer, edged with a weight that hadn’t been there a moment before.

“In all honesty, Marc,” he began, his fingers tracing the stem of his wine glass, “I’ll give you a real answer to your question.” His gaze flicked up briefly, meeting your dad’s, before dropping again. “The truth is that a couple of years back I would probably have said no, marriage wasn’t something I ever imagined for myself “

Your heart stumbled in your chest, and the air around the table seemed to shift, as though everyone instinctively understood that whatever he was about to say mattered more than the jokes and wine-fueled teasing that had come before.

“I’m sorry if this darkens the mood a bit,” he went on, his smile faint but sincere. “But bear with me, there’s some light at the end of this tunnel.”

He exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting across the table.

“The truth is, I was always running - always. From as far back as I can remember, there was always a sense of restlessness, never fitting in anywhere. Everyone around me always seemed so content, whether it was people in my family, my school, at work – while I always had an uneasy feeling of something not being right.”

His fingers pressed against the table’s edge, knuckles white for a brief moment. “I never wanted anyone to know that. It felt wrong to even feel that way, given my background, the privilege I grew up with, the endless opportunities. I knew I was supposed to be grateful. But no matter how much I had, that restlessness never went away.”

The table was utterly still, everyone drawn in, hanging on each word. Even the soft clatter of the kitchen and the gentle murmur of other diners seemed to fade into nothing.

“So, I stayed in motion. Constantly.” His smile was wry now, tinged with self-awareness. “If I was always doing something - working, traveling, meeting new people - I never had to sit still long enough to really look at what was underneath all that noise. And to be fair, I did have  some incredible experiences. But the truth is, everything was always rooted in me wanting to get away from something”.

He lifted his head then, his gaze sweeping the table, taking in each face in turn. When his eyes met yours, your pulse kicked up.

“That’s why the very idea of marriage always felt very foreign to me,” he admitted. “How would I ever be able to feel like I wanted to stay anywhere?”

Your heart clenched.

“And I know what I’m about to say next might sound sappy, but whatever - here it is.” He took a slow breath, bracing himself. When he spoke again, he was looking directly at your parents.

“I need you to understand that your family changed me” he said simply. “You healed something in me.”

Your mom’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes instantly glistening with tears. Your dad blinked hard, his usual playful bravado crumbling into something quieter, something proud.

“And the funny thing is… Not funny, the fucked-up thing, really - is that I wasn’t even aware that I had something in me that needed healing.” Luigi said, his smile twisting with self-deprecation.

“But getting to know you, seeing the way you love each other so openly, so easily, and how that love spills over to everyone lucky enough to be near it… it gave me hope of finding that for myself one day too.”

His voice softened even more as his gaze shifted, landing fully on you now. His dark eyes glimmered in the low light, and the world around you blurred until there was nothing left but him.

“For the first time in my life,” he said quietly, “I feel like it might be possible for me to find somewhere - someone, to call home.”

…

Back at the house after dinner, your parents retreated to their room almost immediately. Your dad had indulged in one too many drinks, leaving him with little choice but to surrender to sleep, and your mom, apparently tonight deciding to play the part of the ever-devoted wife, went with him. Celine and Ben had decided to take a walk back home to get some fresh air – probably a really bad idea, that wouldn’t have them back at the house for several hours.

You, however, weren’t ready to call it a night just yet. The warmth of several glasses of wine hummed pleasantly through your body, leaving you in that perfect space between tipsy and relaxed. In the kitchen, you lingered with Luigi, watching as he poured two drinks with casual ease.

“Feel like hanging out for a bit, or are you tired?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, while knowing how disappointed you’d be if he said no.

He glanced at you with a small, unreadable smile. “I’d love to. In fact, I’d like to extend an exclusive invitation to my balcony.” He handed you your glass. “Not to brag, but I have the best view in the house, and I think you’d be impressed.”

“I’d like that” I smiled back at him. “I’ve heard a lot about this legendary view, but I have yet to see it for myself.”

Luigi picked up his drink and started up the stairs, and you followed, stepping into his room - a space that, as always, was meticulously organized. His desk caught your eye, and a particular book made you pause.

Oh. You knew that book.

Sensing your sudden stillness, Luigi turned, following your gaze until he spotted the source of your distraction. He chuckled. “Come As You Are by Emily Nagoski. She’s a well-known sex educator. It’s about…”

“Yeah, I know what it’s about,” you interrupted with a small, amused smile. “Female sexuality.”

His lips quirked. “I actually had it listed on Goodreads as something I wanted to read. When my socials went public after my arrest, someone was nice enough to send it to me in jail.” He picked up the book and flipped it over in his hands. “And you know me, I’m a firm believer in educating myself.”

You raised an eyebrow, teasing, “So you’re telling me this is a subject you’ve… fallen behind on?”

Luigi smirked as he made his way toward the balcony, drink in hand. “Never had any complaints so far.”

You followed, pulse quickening as your gaze flickered to his broad back, the way his muscles shifted beneath his white button-down shirt and imaging him and his sexual experiences. You settled into one each of the plush chairs outside, the table between you adorned with a simple vase of fresh flowers. Your knees nearly touched as you sat across from him.

“With that said,” he continued, taking a sip, “it’s actually a fascinating read. Talks a lot about accelerators and brakes in arousal. How there’s no such thing as a high or low sex drive, just differences in how easily it’s triggered. Men generally have more sensitive accelerators, while women tend to have more sensitive brakes. It’s really about understanding your own sexual temperament, your own turn ons and turn offs”

His dark eyes held yours, unwavering. You swallowed, suddenly very aware of the way your skin heated under his gaze. Thank God for the dim lighting.

“Personally, I can go a long time without sex. I don’t have that constant urge unless something, or someone, triggers it.” A grin played at his lips and he scrunched his nose. “Which, in jail, was probably a good thing.” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle.

Silence stretched between you, charged and thick. You took a sip of your drink, fingers tightening around the glass and you felt your heart racing at the bare thought of him in an intimate situation with someone. You felt weirdly curious about the women he’d been with before. Who were these women that managed to turn him on so intensely? You felt a sting of jealousy.

“So what do you like?” He said suddenly.

Your breath hitched. “Like?”

He didn’t even blink. “In bed.”

You choked on your drink. Luigi chuckled, his smirk deepening.

“Sorry,” he said, clearly not sorry at all. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m not,” you said quickly, regaining your composure, gripping the armrest as if it could steady you. “Really, it’s fine.”

With any other guy, a conversation like this, especially under these circumstances, fueled by alcohol, beneath the glow of the night sky, the next step would be heading straight to the bedroom for very loud and very intense sex. But this was Luigi, and your mind was frantically trying to decipher what this even was? This was surely him flirting. What the hell would it be otherwise?

You had never been one to shy away from conversations about intimacy. Growing up in a household where such topics were discussed with openness and honesty, your parents had always encouraged a candid approach to sex. For that, you were grateful, despite the many cringeworthy moments along the way. But this was different. Sitting beside him, navigating a conversation like this, felt like an entirely different challenge.

You had a hard time reading him - he was of course always very much of a yapper, being able to strike conversation about just anything, harboring the most unexpected knowledge on any given topic. And why would this be any different? Maybe this was just another topic to him. Or was it really?

You sat in an awkward silence for a while.

“So?” he prompted. You realized you actually hadn’t even answered his question before drifting off in whatever gutter your mind had led you to.

“Well… How much detail do you want?” You exhaled, steadying yourself.

Luigi bit his lip. A slight, barely-there movement. But you saw it. He fucking bit. His. Lip. Oh, it was ON.

“Whatever you feel comfortable sharing,” he replied smoothly, reclining slightly, watching you with quiet amusement.

“Well,”, you begun, holding his gaze and feeling an unexpected wave of confidence wash over you.

“I love a good build up. Tension, the good kind you know? Just looking at each other knowing that you both want each other so bad you can hardly control yourself. I love feeling that mutual yearning - just being wanted by someone or lusted after doesn’t really do it for me. I’ve never been into male validation like that. It just doesn’t turn me on. But having yourself needing someone physically to the point that you feel you might come just by having their hands on you while fully clothed in a room full of people? Well, that’s intoxicating.”

Luigi swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His fingers curled around his glass, but he didn’t break eye contact.

You leaned back slightly, watching him, a slow smirk curling at the edge of your lips.

“And when the clothes actually come off…” You tilted your head, considering your next words carefully. “This probably isn’t very feminist of me, but yeah, I like a man to take a bit of control. Nothing too crazy, but…  I think I just have a need to feel that masculine energy you know. That steady, masculine presence. A bit of a soft dom vibe to balance me out.”

Luigi exhaled slowly, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip before tilting his head. His voice, when he finally spoke, was lower.

“Yeah?” A pause. A deliberate beat of silence. “Sounds like we might be quite compatible, then.”

Your breath caught. Your entire body betrayed you, every nerve buzzing at his words, at the way he said them.

Did he actually just…?

You blinked, forcing your expression into something playful despite the riot in your chest. “Really?” You raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise, fighting the urge to melt into a puddle right there.

Luigi took another sip of his drink, his smirk deepening.

“Yeah.” His voice was pure confidence, edged with something darkly teasing. He tilted his head back with a cocky grin on his face.

Your brain short-circuited.

Unable to speak, you stayed in a deep lock of eyes until you were brutally interrupted by a hard knock on the door shattering the moment, followed by Celine’s drunken voice.

“Time to go swimming! You haven’t fallen asleep yet have you?”

It took every ounce of restraint for you not to let out the most dramatic, exasperated sigh. Of course she had to interrupt now, how painfully on brand for her.

"What are you talking about?" you shouted back, your voice sharper than intended. Too sharp for someone who had no clue what moment she’d just barged in on.

Luigi looked amused, rising gracefully from his chair. He turned toward the door, calling out, “We’ll be right there.”

Then, without hesitation, he offered you his hand. The moment your skin touched, a shiver ran through you, the afterglow of your intimate conversation still humming in the air between you. Your fingers lingered, just a heartbeat too long, before slipping apart.

You stood, cheeks burning, acutely aware of the dampness between your thighs. Clearing your throat, you forced out a weak smile.

“Well, I guess that calls for a change of clothes.”

If only he knew how literal that was.

“See you at the pool” he murmured with his smile curling at the edges, gaze lingering just a little too long.

Chapter Text

It took every ounce of strength in your aching body to make it downstairs the next morning. After putting on your bathrobe, you did the best you could to untangle your hair that was still damp from last night’s midnight swim. Of course, you had been too tired, and far too tipsy, to bother drying it properly. Instead, you had just twisted it into a messy bun before collapsing into bed, and now you had to live with the consequences of your own actions.

You had definitely looked better - the mirror made that painfully clear. But you were starving, and vanity simply didn’t stand a chance against hunger. Without wasting any more time, you padded down the stairs for the kitchen to grab something to eat.

The last part of the night before was a bit blurry. Some parts were sharp though – like when Luigi basically told you you’d have great bed chem. The memory sent shivers down your spine, and you wrapped your robe tighter. But then you had Ben, launching a full-scale water war putting a halt to the tension between you and Luigi – and it had become instantly clear that moon lit romance had no place in Ben’s idea of a midnight swim.

Somewhere between laughter and splashes, tipsiness and temptation, you’d surrendered – and Celine shortly after. You had left Luigi and Ben to their aquatic battle, retreating to your room, water dripping from your hair as you peeled off your clothes and tumbled into bed. You had fallen asleep to the distant sounds of their laughter, still going at it, playing like kids. Drunk kids.

Now, as you reached the bottom of the stairs, the first thing your eyes landed on was Luigi. He was perched at the kitchen counter, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand, the other resting lightly on the open pages of a book. He was already dressed in his running gear, looking almost annoyingly fresh and well rested for someone who had stayed up longer than you and, as far as you could tell, drank at least as much, if not more.

You almost hesitated, not wanting to interrupt the peacefulness of the whole scene. He looked so relaxed, so content, the morning light falling just right on the sharp lines of his face. But then you murmured a soft, tentative “Good morning,” and the spell was broken.

His head snapped up, a smile already spreading across his face, easy and unguarded. God, that smile. It sent your stomach into an immediate somersault, even though you hadn’t had so much as a sip of coffee yet.

“Good morning!” His eyes swept over you with familiar warmth before settling on your still-damp hair. “Is your hair… still wet?”

You sighed, running a self-conscious hand through the tangled mess. “I put it up in a bun before bed. Honestly, I barely remember getting into bed at all.”

Luigi chuckled, setting his coffee down. “Yeah, you vanished quite suddenly - or at least that’s what it felt like while simultaneously being drowned by your brother-in-law”.

You laughed softly. “Ben was out of control last night.” You turned toward the coffee machine, filling the biggest mug you could find. “He’s got this thing about physical affection. He really can’t keep his hands off you.”

You glanced over your shoulder, half expecting Luigi to blush, but he just smiled. A slow, knowing smile with a mischievous glint in his eye. The silence that followed was thick, buzzing with the weight of everything left unsaid from the night before. Your pulse quickened.

“I liked hanging out alone with you for a bit last night,” Luigi said, voice low but deliberate. “You know, before we were so rudely interrupted.”

Your heart kicked hard against your ribs. “Me too,” you said, softer than you intended. The tension was undeniable now, a current thrumming between you, charged with the memory of exactly where your conversation had ended last night.

“I hope we get to do it again soon,” he added, holding your gaze for just a second too long. There was something in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite name, but it sent heat rushing to your cheeks.

And then, suddenly, your mom’s voice rang out from down the hall, shattering the moment like a stone through glass. She strode into the kitchen, ending a work call with one hand and reaching for the coffee pot with the other, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek in passing.

“Good morning, darling! Did you sleep well?” she asked breezily, already halfway into her own whirlwind of tasks. “Luigi, honey, I’m so sorry but you’ll have to do that run on your own this morning. Work is crazy, and Marc hasn’t even gotten out of bed yet, so I’m covering for him too. Looks like you’ll have to hit the beach without us today as well I’m afraid.”

Luigi waved off her apology with a smile so genuine it made your chest ache a little. “No worries, I just feel bad for you” he said, softly. Then his attention shifted back to you, that playful spark returning to his expression.

“I’m heading out for a quick run by myself then,” he said. “Then we’re hitting the beach, right?”

Before you could come up with an excuse, he was already at the door, lacing his shoes. It wasn’t until the door swung shut behind him that you remembered you and Celine had, in fact, promised him a full beach day today.

Shit.

If you had any hope of looking remotely human by the time he got back from his run, you needed to get yourself together, fast. The clock was already ticking, and there was no way you were looking like this spending a day with Luigi at the beach.

…

You had all decided to hop on the boat at the docking point down the pier, and let it carry you along the shimmering coastline to Monterosso al Mare. It was one of the rare sandy beaches in all of Cinque Terre, famous for its Pinterest perfect rows of orange and green parasols stretching down to the water’s edge. There was no doubt that this beach, with its effortless beauty, was the ideal destination for a sun-drenched day like this.

Luigi had been talking about it for weeks. Ever since the trip to Italy had first taken shape, he’d peppered every conversation with mentions of Monterosso. You felt a swell of affection for him and all his unfiltered excitement, the kind that expands inside your chest until it’s almost hard to breathe. This, you knew, was his place. His element. The promise of seeing him barefoot in the sand, lit up with joy, filled you with a quiet kind of thrill.

Luigi led the charge down the dock, his energy impossible to contain. With a lighthearted leap, he jumped onto the gently rocking boat, his feet landing with a soft thud on the deck. He was wearing a light blue pair of swim trunks paired with a matching striped cotton shirt, casually a few buttons opened, revealing just enough of his is already tan skin. His Sicilian blood was no match for the sun; it clung to him like a lover, deepening his tan by the minute.

Without planning to, you’d matched him. Your linen romper by Farm Rio, patterned in a blue and white garden-tile print, made you feel like you belonged in this scene, as if you too had saltwater running through your veins. With you Loewe straw basket bag over your shoulder, you imagined you might actually pass for Italian too.

Luigi turned back to offer his hand, smiling. You took it without hesitation, the heat of his palm settling into your skin. Suddenly, a shadow of concern flickered across his face.

His gaze shifted past you, and you followed it, unable to suppress a quiet laugh at the sight that met you. Behind you, Celine was valiantly attempting to guide Ben - who was swaying like a sail in a storm - onto the boat.

“Are we sure Ben is even fit for this?” Luigi asked, half amused, half genuinely worried.

“He has no one to blame but himself,” you said, shaking your head. “I saw him refilling his drink at 2:30 this morning.”

You did feel a pang of sympathy for Ben - your brother-in-law was the reigning champion of FOMO. Even with a pounding head and a stomach likely at war with itself, he had refused to miss this outing. No one could ever say Ben didn’t live life to the fullest.

However, the short boat ride turned into nothing short of Ben’s personal battle for survival, his upper body draped across the railing as Celine, mortified, pretended she’d never seen him before.

Aside from the minor distraction of Ben’s raging hangover, for you, the boat ride felt like something out of a dream. The wind tangled itself in your hair, salty mist kissing your skin. Luigi’s shirt flapped open, his chest catching the light, and every few waves sent a playful spray up onto your legs. The two of you had claimed a pair of seats at the very front, your feet propped lazily on the edge of the deck.

When the boat pitched unexpectedly over a larger wave, Luigi’s arm shot around your back, holding you steady. It was probably a reflex, just a practical way to make sure you didn’t tumble overboard - but your heart didn’t care about logic. In your mind, it was nothing less of a cinematic moment, the two of you alone on a boat jetting off on the horizon.

The ride ended too soon for your taste though Ben, pale and clammy, exhaled a sigh of relief the moment the boat docked at Monterosso.

The beach awaited you, its sunbeds neatly lined up, and it didn’t take long to find a perfect spot near the water, and Ben collapsed face-first onto his lounge chair with a deep groan.

“He’ll be out cold in about sixty seconds,” Celine muttered, shaking her head. “If we’re lucky, we might establish contact with him again later this afternoon.”

You settled onto the sunbed beside Luigi, but your attention was immediately stolen by the expression on his face. Pure, unfiltered joy radiated from him, his smile wide and uninhibited like a child’s. It was the kind of happiness that made your heart swell painfully, knowing you were lucky enough to see him like this.

“Do you like it?” you asked softly, though you already knew the answer.

He nodded, his grin stretching even wider. He was the most precious thing you had ever seen.

With Ben already snoring beside you, you and Luigi decided to head to the nearby beach bar to grab something to eat before diving into the water. The bar was nestled right into the sand, and you both made the short walk dressed only in your swimsuits. Luigi’s effortless confidence in nothing but his trunks made your mouth go a little dry. His ripped body was made for this setting and seeing him truly in his element like this made him, if still possible at this point, even more attractive than you had ever seen him before.

Leaning slightly over the bar to get a better look at the menu, you felt the familiar ache of mild dehydration, your body still rebelling slightly from the night before. Although happy you were not Ben at the moment, you still felt that a large soda and some salty snacks was definitely in order.

Mid snack order decision making, suddenly you felt Luigi coming up behind you.

His bare chest pressed against your back, warm and solid, and the sudden contact pushed you forward into the counter, a small, startled sound escaping your lips - somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

You turned your head in surprise, only to find his face hovering just beside yours, grinning unapologetically.

“Your bikini bottoms were falling off,” he murmured, voice low and rough, still pressing his full chest up against your back.

“What?” you asked, blinking.

“The tie - on your hip. It’s coming undone.”

You glanced down, cheeks warming when you saw he was right. The knot on your white crochet bikini bottom had loosened, the fabric dangerously close to slipping. Before you could react, Luigi’s hands were already there, one arm wrapped low around your waist, the other deftly working the knot.

You held your breath.

His chin rested lightly on your shoulder as he worked, his breath fanning against your neck. His fingers moved with gentle precision, tugging the strings back into place. He took his time, too much time really - but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind.

And then, just when you thought you might combust from the heat of him and his velvety soft skin pressed so intimately against you, he shifted his hips slightly forward. The subtle pressure against your ass was unmistakably.

You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t even breathe properly - so you stared blindly at the menu, the words blurring together as your pulse thundered in your ears.

“All done,” he finally said, still with his body pressed against yours. Then, before pushing himself off the edge of the bar counter, he gave your ass a soft, teasing tap. When you spun to face him, his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“See? Chivalry isn’t dead.”

You shook your head, fighting a smile.

“Come on,” he said, still with a grin on his face. “Let’s sit down for a bit and order something. I’m starving”.

You settled into one of the small, weathered tables nestled right into the sand, the kind where you could dig your toes into the warmth beneath you while the sea whispered only a few meters away. A waiter appeared almost instantly, balancing a pair of menus in one hand. His face broke into a broad smile the moment he saw the two of you sitting there together.

“Bella coppia,” he said, his voice rich with the melodic cadence of native Italian.

Luigi returned the smile easily, his whole face lighting up in a way that made your chest ache.

“Avrai dei bellissimi bambini,” the waiter added, glancing between the two of you before winking playfully in Luigi’s direction.

Luigi’s smile widened into something almost smug. “Grazie mille, era più o meno detto,” he replied smoothly, accepting the menus with a casual nod. The waiter disappeared back behind the bar, leaving you blinking in stunned silence.

“Hold on,” you said, still processing. “Since when do you actually speak Italian? And how exactly have you never mentioned this to me?”

Luigi grinned, feigning exaggerated offense. “I have told you. I’m deeply hurt that you don’t listen to me.” He placed a dramatic hand over his heart, his face the perfect picture of mock sadness.

“No way.” You shook your head firmly. “I would definitely remember something like that.” What you didn’t add, what you couldn’t bring yourself to say, is that you would have definitely remembered since hearing him speak Italian was possibly the sexiest thing you’d ever experienced.

“To be fair,” Luigi said with a shrug, “I don’t speak that much. I can survive a basic conversation, enough to get directions or order food. But that’s about it.” He paused, flashing a sheepish grin. “Much to my mother’s eternal disappointment.”

“Well, compared to someone who only speaks one language – and that would be me - it’s wildly impressive,” you said, still trying to recover. “So… what exactly did he say?”

Luigi flipped open his menu as if the whole exchange had been nothing. “He said we’re a beautiful couple.”

Your stomach flipped. “And…?”

Luigi barely looked up from the menu. “He said we’d have beautiful children.”

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to sound casual. “And what did you say back?”

“I thanked him, of course.” Luigi shrugged again, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “And told him it was a very nice thing to say.”

You blinked. “But you didn’t correct him?”

“Correct him about what?” Luigi asked, finally looking up, his expression disarmingly innocent. “If you and I had babies, they’d be gorgeous.”

Your brain short-circuited. Before you could formulate a response, before you could even begin to deal with the involuntary somersault your ovaries just performed, the waiter reappeared at the table, still smiling as though this was the happiest moment of his life.

“Ready to order?” he asked, his English charmingly broken, his eyes flickering between the two of you like he was watching a love story unfold in real-time.

Luigi ordered pizza for both of you, the words rolling off his tongue effortlessly, and you felt your stomach grumble just at the thought of it. As the waiter gathered the menus, he paused, tilting his head with curiosity, eyes twinkling.

“Married?” he asked, nodding toward you both.

“Not yet,” Luigi answered without hesitation, his voice smooth and sure.

You shot him a look, but he was already leaning into the moment, fully committing to the bit.

“Engaged, actually,” he added, turning toward you with such sincerity in his eyes that your heart skipped painfully. “I asked her to marry me just the other night.”

His gaze held yours, and suddenly nothing about this felt like a joke anymore.

“Luckily, she said yes. Easiest decision I’ve ever made,” he continued softly. “I’ve been in love with her since the very first time we met.”

The air thickened between you, and you were sure the sound of your heartbeat could be heard all the way to the shoreline.

The waiter beamed, clapping his hands together in pure delight. “Congratulations to the beautiful couple! Drinks are on the house!”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” Luigi said, his hand sliding effortlessly into yours, fingers tangling with yours like it was second nature. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing the softest kiss to your knuckles before the waiter turned back toward the bar, still glowing with second-hand happiness.

You exhaled sharply, your mind a tangled knot of confusion and warmth. “That was… impressive,” you said, trying to inject some levity to break the spell.

But Luigi didn’t let go of your hand. Instead, he traced small patterns between your fingers, his touch deliberate and unhurried.

“I could get used to this,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“What, acting?” you teased. “Why am I not even surprised? One more secret talent to add to the list. You’re a man of endless surprises, I’ll tell you that much.”

But Luigi shook his head. “No.” He looked at you, the playful gleam softening into something deeper. “I meant this.”

For a second, your heart stilled.

But then, almost as if he caught himself stepping too close to the edge of something he wasn’t ready to admit, he turned away, his eyes settling on the horizon instead. “This place,” he said quickly. “This amazing beach.”

You forced a smile, though your pulse was still racing from everything unsaid. “Yeah,” you agreed quietly. “Me too.”

Chapter Text

The hours by the beach drifted by, soft and golden, as the sun arced across the sky. You had spent the better part of the afternoon on your sun bed, stretched out beneath the sun’s warmth, occasionally wading into the cool embrace of the ocean to stave off the heat.

Beside you, Ben had finally returned to life, actually looking quite well rested after a few hours of coma in the shade. Celine, now back to acknowledging him again as her fiancée, was nestled against him, their sunbeds pushed together beneath the wide shelter of a striped beach umbrella.

It wasn’t until you turned a page in your book and caught sight of the empty sunbed beside you that you realized you hadn’t seen Luigi for a while. His towel lay abandoned, a clue that he’d probably wandered off to cool himself in the sea.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you lifted a hand to shield your eyes and scanned the beach, searching for his familiar silhouette. It didn’t take long before a familiar burst of laughter rang out – you turned your head, and there he was.

Down by the shoreline, Luigi knelt in the sand, completely engrossed in the delicate architecture of an enormous sandcastle. Around him, a group of children hovered, wide-eyed and eager, hanging onto his every word as though he were a wizard revealing ancient secrets.

His hands moved animatedly, shaping turrets and tracing moats, ever the engineer, while his curls fell into his face, darkened slightly from the saltwater still clinging to them. The children fought for his attention, all talking at once, and yet somehow Luigi made each of them feel heard.

Somehow, everyone seemed to orbit around him, drawn in by that innate gentleness of his. He had this magnetic force about him, the type of kindness that had everyone close to him unguarded and at ease.

Your heart clenched painfully, overwhelmed by something you couldn’t quite name. Love, admiration, longing - all wrapped up in one unbearable knot. He was so natural with them, so completely present, as though the rest of the world had melted away. And in him, you glimpsed something younger, a flash of the boy he must have been years ago. Sweet and earnest, wide-eyed and full of intelligence. This beautiful, beautiful, curly haired boy.

Celine’s voice startled you out of your daze. She’d been watching you watching him, her head tilted with quiet amusement.

“He’s a natural,” she said softly. “Do you see how he actually listens to their ideas? Like really listens.”

You could only hum in response, your throat too tight to form words. Celine’s smile turned knowing, but she didn’t push.

You lay back down, your heart too full, too tender. Closing your eyes, you let the tears prickling behind your lids slip free, the sheer force of your feelings catching you off guard.

What was it about him that made you feel this emotional? Like you’d been split open, every nerve exposed to the sun and the salt and the sight of him in the sand.

Just a few moments later you heard the unmistakable shuffle of wet feet against the wood slats of the sunbed beside you. Before you could react, Luigi launched himself over you, his body still dripping from the sea, his weight pressing down on you with gleeful recklessness. A startled shriek escaped your throat as the cold water soaked into your warm skin, shocking you out of your emotional daze.

He grabbed his towel, draping it over both of you, before pinning you down to the sunbed. His laugh was right there, pressed against your ear. You were both breathless, caught somewhere between laughter and disbelief.

“Luigi, what the fuck?” you spluttered, your voice half-scolding, half-wild with delight.

“This,” he whispered conspiratorially, lips brushing your ear, “is for leaving me all alone in the water.”

Your heart liquefied, the heat of him against you undoing any composure you might have had left. You were vaguely aware of Ben’s voice floating over from the next sunbed.

“Careful there,” Ben called dryly. “This is a family beach, you know.”

Luigi rolled off you, but not far, just enough to rest on his side, propping himself up on one elbow. With his free hand, he gently brushed the damp strands of hair from your face, toweling you off with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. His eyes sparkled with mischief, but beneath it was something softer, something quieter.

He glanced over at Ben, grin still firmly in place.

“Honestly, dude, I’m impressed by your utter strength today,” Luigi said. “Despite being an absolute wreck this morning, you pulled through and came with us. And you haven’t thrown up once? Impressive stuff.”

Ben chuckled, his arm tightening lazily around Celine. “I’ve been through worse,” he said. “Believe me.”

No one had an ounce of doubt.

“Oh, that reminds me – you know I told you Mike and his two friends from home were passing by for a few days? They just hit me up, they are staying at the Torretta San Rocco for a couple of nights and would love to meet up with us. Are y’all up for going clubbing tonight?”

“Are you up for going clubbing tonight?” you asked, faking a surprised look.

“You know it”, Ben winked.

…

Later that evening, you were all getting ready for the car to come pick you up to meet with Ben’s friends downtown. The long day in the sun had taken its toll, but after everyone had gone back to their rooms after dinner for some much-needed rest and a shower, the evening air was thick with anticipation as the house buzzed with last-minute preparations for a night of drinks and dancing.

Laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the kitchen as everyone gathered around the marble island, catching up with your parents before heading out.

Luigi was the last to make it down to the kitchen, moving down the stairs with an effortless confidence that made your breath catch. The sight of him - tall, tanned, and dressed in head-to-toe black - sent a warm pulse through your veins. His black button-down, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms, accentuated the golden hue of his fresh tan. Handsome was too simple a word; he looked nothing less of majestic.

Celine let out an exaggerated sigh, eyes flicking between you and Luigi. “You two are the cutest. Matching outfits again? Is this some kind of telepathic fashion connection, or do you just share a closet at this point?”

It hadn’t been intentional, but for the second time that day, you and Luigi were indeed wearing matching outfits. You wore a black denim mini skirt, paired with a loose black satin shirt with a generous number of buttons unbuttoned, revealing the slightest hint of delicate lace of your bra underneath. To further enhance your neckline, you had also layered two long dainty gold chains around your neck, one pendant nearly grazing the space between your boobs. The effect wasn’t lost on Luigi - his gaze flickered downward before he quickly corrected himself, swallowing hard as he met your eyes again.

You were wearing a pair of Gianvito Rossi metallic strappy high heel sandals that you knew made your legs look amazing, and you carried your favorite Jimmy Choo Bon Bon Mini embellished bucket bag for a festive finishing touch.

A smirk ghosted his lips as he approached, leaning in just enough for only you to hear. “Look at you, pretty girl.” His voice was low, roughened at the edges, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping back, his fingers brushing against the small of your back for the briefest moment.

Before you could respond, Ben’s voice rang out. “Car’s here! Time to hit the club!”

Your parents had already settled in for the evening as you waved goodbye, tucked under throws on the patio with a bottle of red between them. They barely looked up as you all left, lost in their own quiet world. They were definitely not going to miss you tonight.

The car ride downtown was a blur of neon lights and the pulse of music filtering through the cracked windows. The town was small but buzzing, the air thick with the scent of warm summer night. Stepping out of the car, the streets hummed with energy - there was not a lot of night clubs around, but you had a table reservation at the latest additions to the local party scene, everyone excited to see if it would live up to the hype. You met up with Ben’s friends outside - a trio of guys just as warm and boisterous as he was - and together, you stepped into the throbbing heart of the club.

The bass thrummed beneath your feet as you wove through the mass of bodies, the nostalgia of early 2000s R&B wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Luigi’s fingers found yours, a firm but casual hold, guiding you effortlessly through the crowd. That small connection sent a thrilling warmth flooding through you, your stomach twisting with something dangerously close to longing.

How you would be able to control yourself tonight, you did not know. You instantly noticed how women turned their heads looking at him as you passed, and you felt an overwhelming sense of pride that it was your hand he was holding. And you wanted to keep it that way.

At the table, drinks flowed freely, laughter blending with the music. Ben seemed to be totally unfaced of his previous hangover, and his friends - just as much of social butterflies as him - made friends at the tables next to us and everyone was dancing and laughing together as they’d known each other forever.

You and Luigi stayed close to each other, bodies brushing as you danced to the familiar throwback bangers, apparently the DJ’s theme of the night. When Baby Boy by Beyoncé and Sean Paul echoed through the speakers, you couldn’t resist – spinning around him, you mimicked the choreography from the music video, letting your fingers trail along his chest before dipping down and twirling back up.

It started as a tease, a joke - but then his hands found your hips, fingers pressing firmly as his touch lingered, and the game shifted. The air between you thickened, the playful energy melting into something else entirely. When your hips met his, when his breath caught audibly in your ear, a delicious shudder ran through you.

You couldn’t take it much longer. The alcohol in your system helped you see clearly, and the fact was that you needed this man desperately. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. You wanted him now.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulled back.

“Want another drink?” His voice was taut, laced with something unreadable. He took a deliberate step back, breaking the charge between you.

Frustration bubbled in your chest. Was it the people around you? Was he holding himself back, or had you misread everything? You lifted your chin, feigning nonchalance. “A glass of champagne,” you answered coolly, before turning away and throwing yourself back into the energy of the rest of the group.

As soon as the DJ dropped the opening notes of What’s Luv? by Ja Rule and Ashanti, you and Celine practically launched yourselves from your seats. "This is our song! We have to dance!" she squealed, grabbing your hand. Laughing, you let her pull you toward the dance floor, your heels clicking against the polished wood as you wove through the crowd. Luigi’s eyes followed you, his lips curving into a knowing smile as you turned back to catch his gaze before disappearing into the sea of moving bodies.

You were perfectly buzzed, and the familiar beat pulsed through your veins, sending a rush of nostalgia through you. You and Celine sang every word at the top of your lungs, completely lost in the moment.

One song melted into another, each beat igniting a deeper sense of euphoria. The energy of the club was intoxicating, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. At one point, you glanced over your shoulder and spotted Luigi still sitting at your table, watching you intently, his dark eyes never leaving you. The way he looked at you sent a thrill through your body. God, he looked hot.

A few songs later, slightly breathless and still buzzing from the high of the dance floor, you and Celine made your way to the bar for another round. As you waited for the bartender’s attention, a voice called out from beside you.

“Hey, are you Americans?”

You turned to find a group of five men, all in their mid-twenties, exuding a confident, unmistakably American energy. The one who had spoken stepped forward, offering his hand. He had an easy smile and the kind of swagger that suggested he was used to getting attention.

“I’m Brandon,” he introduced himself. "We heard you speaking English. We’re just here for the week, traveling around Europe. Are you on vacation too?"

You exchanged a glance with Celine before shaking his hand. "Kind of," you replied. "We actually have a summer house up in the hills, so we’re here for the season."

Brandon’s eyebrows lifted in interest. "Oh, nice," he said, clearly impressed. "Can I get you something to drink?"

You, Celine, and the guys lingered by the bar, conversation flowing easily as laughter mixed with the distant pulse of music. Eventually, Celine excused herself to the restroom, leaving you alone with Brandon. His intentions were obvious - flirtation laced into every smirk, every lingering glance. But you kept it light, letting the moment remain harmless fun.

You had to admit, he was funny. A few years ago, he would have been exactly your type. The golden-haired, all-American jock, brimming with an almost irritating level of confidence. But charm, unfortunately, was his strong suit, and he knew how to use it.

He launched into an exaggerated performance of the different types of tourists he and his friends had encountered on their road trip across Europe, switching between accents and mannerisms with surprising skill. You couldn’t help but giggle, momentarily caught in the humor of it all. He grinned, pleased with himself.

As you turned back toward the bar, still laughing softly, a presence stirred behind you - familiar, unmistakable.

Luigi.

You felt him before you saw him, the space around you shifting as he stepped in close. He didn’t touch you, but his presence alone was enough to send a shiver down your spine. Then, without warning, he moved - his arms caging you in as he planted his palms firmly on the bar, one on either side of you. The heat of his body hovered near yours, the scent of him - clean, warm, intoxicating.

He dipped his head, his lips mere inches from your ear, his voice a low rasp that sent goosebumps down your arms.

"You can do much better."

Your breath hitched. You turned to face him, confusion flickering in your eyes, but Luigi had already straightened, cool and composed as he glanced at the bartender.

"Three shots of Patrón. Thanks."

Brandon, sensing the shift in the air, turned to Luigi with an awkward chuckle. "Oh hey, you her boyfriend or something?"

Luigi didn’t even look at him. "No, I’m not her boyfriend." The words were clipped, neutral. Yet something about the way he said them sent a sharp pang through your chest.

Brandon studied him for a second, then suddenly squinted, realization dawning.

"Wait - hey dude, aren’t you that…?"

Before he could finish, Luigi leaned slightly, using your body as a barrier between him and Brandon. He rested his left forearm against the bar while extending his right toward Brandon in a handshake. His face remained unreadable.

"Mario."

Brandon blinked, caught off guard. "Oh man, sorry! I thought you were that guy from the news... Yo, you look so much like him, bro!"

You bit back a laugh, glancing up at Luigi, who showed no sign of amusement.

"He gets that a lot," you said smoothly, smirking.

Luigi flashed the bartender a brief, genuine smile. "Thanks, man. Appreciate it."

With an easy motion, he slid one of the shot glasses toward Brandon, then placed another in front of you.

"Cheers," he said, locking eyes with Brandon as he knocked his own shot back in one swift movement.

Then, without missing a beat, he leaned in once more, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, voice dark and low enough for only you to hear.

"Let me know if you need me."

And just like that, he turned and walked away, back toward his table, leaving a trail of static in his wake.

Your skin prickled. Your pulse thrummed. God help you.

…

One drink with Brandon turned into two, then three, and before you knew it, you were back on the dance floor, the bass thrumming beneath your feet, feeling electrified by the mix of alcohol and the neon lights flickering above.

At some point, you stumbled back to the table where the rest of the group sat, their conversations hazy in your ears.

“Hey!” you called out, breathless. “Let’s dance!”

Celine gave you a look, somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Take it easy - how many drinks have you even had?”

Before you could answer, Luigi leaned over, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist, his touch warm but firm. His dark eyes searched yours, unreadable.

“I can take you home if you want,” he offered, voice low and steady.

Something about it - his concern, the way he said it - rubbed you the wrong way. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way Celine was looking for a way to act like the well-behaved big sister, but the annoyance that had been simmering inside you flared up.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you snapped, yanking your wrist from his grasp. “Why would I want to go home?”

You shot him a defiant, probably very childish, look - but you didn’t care. Without another word, you spun on your heel and disappeared back onto the dance floor, greeted by an enthusiastic cheer from Brandon. He threw an arm around you, pulling you back into the rhythm of the music as you made your big comeback.

At the table, Celine let out an irritable sigh, rubbing her temples. “She’s so annoying when she gets like this,” she muttered. “What a little brat.”

Celine and Ben both watched you stumble through another twirl, barely catching yourself before crashing into Brandon’s chest - obviously in a state where the appropriate thing would be to actually go home

“Should I be worried?” Celine asked, furrowing her brows.

“Nah, she’ll be fine”. Ben said calmly, shaking his head. “He won’t let her out of his sight.”

He smirked and tilted his chin toward Luigi, who sat at the very edge of his seat, body tense, his dark gaze locked onto you. Watching. Waiting.

You knew, somewhere deep down, that you should probably call it a night. The room was beginning to spin in that way that meant trouble, but you weren’t about to give Celine the satisfaction of being right. Besides, you were still having fun - what was the harm in one more song?

Brandon twirled you around again as We Found Love by Rihanna pulsed through the speakers. You laughed, but the moment your feet touched the ground, a wave of dizziness crashed over you.

The lights blurred. The music became too loud, too much. Your stomach lurched. Panic swelled in your chest - you needed to get out of here.

You turned to leave, but before you could take a step, Brandon’s hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Where are you going?” His voice was different now, sharper, laced with something that made your skin prickle. He tightened his grip. “You’re not leaving, right?”

“I think I have to” you started, your voice weak as the world tilted around you.

“I think no,” Brandon cut you off, his tone now edged with something more forceful. He grabbed both of your wrists and pulled you against him, his breath hot against your cheek.

Your stomach dropped.

“What are you doing?” you blurted, trying to squirm away.

“I just want you closer,” he murmured, his arms locking around you, refusing to let go.

Your pulse spiked. You pushed against him, your movements sluggish, but he was stronger than you expected. Panic surged through you, sharp and ice-cold.

Then, suddenly, you were wrenched away. Brandon’s grip was ripped from your wrists as you stumbled backward, held steady by a strong arm around your waist.

Luigi.

He stepped between you and Brandon in one swift, deliberate motion, his broad frame shielding you entirely. You clung to his shirt, breath shaky, as he held one arm back behind him, steadying you.

Brandon scoffed, rolling his shoulders as he squared up to Luigi. “Do we have a problem?”

Luigi didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. His voice was calm, almost bored. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

Brandon took a step closer. “I thought you said you weren’t her boyfriend.”

Luigi exhaled slowly, tilting his head. Then, with a tone so smooth it was almost dangerous, he said, “I have no idea how me being her boyfriend or not has anything to do with her not wanting you to touch her.”

Brandon’s jaw twitched. “Better keep your non-girlfriend on a tighter leash,” he sneered.

Luigi gave him a slow, sharp smirk. “Go fuck yourself.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned, his hand sliding from your waist down to your wrist, his grip firm but gentle. His thumb brushed against your pulse, as if grounding you.

“Liv.” His voice was lower now, quiet enough that only you could hear. “My patience is really running out with this asshole. And you know I really can’t get into a fight right now.” His grip tightened slightly. “I beg of you, sweetheart. Please let me take you home.”

Your knees nearly buckled. All the fight drained out of you at once, exhaustion crashing over you in waves. You nodded, unable to find your voice. Wordlessly, Luigi pulled you closer, tucking you into his side as he led you off the dance floor.

After a quick explanation to Celine and Ben, he helped you into a cab outside the club. Celine and Ben stayed behind with the rest of the group, probably relieved they no longer had to babysit you.

As the cab pulled away from the curb, you leaned your head against Luigi’s shoulder, the adrenaline finally fading. You were going home.

…

The cab ride home was a blur, the distant hum of the city fading into the background. Once back at the house, Luigi paid the driver and tipping generously before slamming the door shut. Without a word, he led you inside, his hand grazing the small of your back, a quiet but steadying presence.

As the door clicked shut behind you, you stumbled forward, groaning as you reached for the straps of your heels. “Fuck, my feet are killing me,” you moaned, yanking them off and flinging them carelessly against the wall.

Luigi arched a brow, watching your mini tantrum with a smirk.

“I can’t believe I chose these to go dancing in,” you continued, voice heavy with regret. “Am I fucking stupid?”

You barely made it to the foot of the stairs before coming to a dramatic halt, exhaling loudly as you stared up at them. “I have no idea how I’m supposed to physically get up there when I can’t even feel my damn feet anymore.”

Before you could even process what was happening, Luigi was suddenly beside you, his movements swift and effortless. In one smooth motion, he scooped you up and tossed you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, carrying you up the stairs.

A startled scream tore from your lips. “Luigi, what the hell are you doing?”

“You said you couldn’t physically make it up the stairs,” he said, entirely unfazed. “I’m just helping you out.”

You pounded a fist weakly against his back, but he didn’t budge, carrying you as if you were a ragdoll. His grip was firm, secure, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly as he maneuvered you through the doorway with ease.

Inside your room, he kicked the door shut behind him, then - just as effortlessly - set you back down, your back pressing lightly against the wall. The room swayed around you, whether from the alcohol or from the sheer presence of him, you weren’t sure. Instinctively, you pressed your palms against the cool surface behind you to steady yourself.

Luigi’s hands, still lingering at your waist, tightened ever so slightly when he noticed you struggling to stand upright.

“Thanks,” you murmured breathlessly. “I guess.”

He was so close to you now. Impossible close.

Your noses brushed, the space between you thick with something unspoken. His breath was warm, his scent a mix of faint cologne and something else - something distinctly him. Your chest rose and fell too quickly, betraying the wild thrum of your heartbeat.

His beautiful dark long lashes fluttered as he blinked down at you. Was he nervous?

Then, in a voice lower and rougher than you had ever heard before, he muttered, “I didn’t like what I saw at the club tonight.”

The words sent a jolt through you, but you said nothing. The only sound in the room was your breathing, tangled with his.

After a pause, you forced a teasing lilt into your voice, though your stomach twisted even as you spoke. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

The second the words left your lips, regret flooded through you. God, why did you say that? How fucking cringe was that? You wanted to sink through the floor. Throw yourself out from the balcony. Literally anything to take it back. You squeezed your eyes shut as if that alone could erase the moment.

Silence stretched between you, unbearably thick.

Then, just when you thought you’d die from the tension, Luigi exhaled softly. His voice was even lower this time, almost hesitant.       

“I guess I didn’t like it because… I’m realizing that the girl of my dreams could also be someone else’s girl of their dreams.”

Your breath hitched.

He paused, swallowing hard. “And I just feel stupid because it’s just… It’s obvious.”

The words sent a sharp rush of adrenaline through you, cutting through the haze of alcohol like a blade. Your head tilted up to meet his gaze, and your knees nearly buckled at what you saw there. Something raw. Something desperate.

“You’re the most perfect girl ever,” he murmured, “and it would be ridiculous to think I’d be the only one to notice.”

Your pulse pounded against your ribs as he leaned in, just slightly, just enough for his chest to press against yours. The heat of him seeped into you, making your thoughts spin. Did he just call you the girl of his dreams?

The words looped in your head, making you dizzier than any amount of alcohol ever could.

Then, with slow, deliberate intent, Luigi tilted his head, lowering his lips to your ear. His breath was warm against your skin, and a shiver ran down your spine.

“You’re very drunk,” he murmured, his voice nothing but gravel and restraint.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze.

“Let me get you into bed.”

Chapter Text

The moment your eyes fluttered open, regret hit you like a freight train. A groan of pure agony escaped your lips as you rolled over, burying your face deep into the pillow. Your head throbbed mercilessly, your body felt like it had been through a war. The fifth, sixth… or maybe even seventh drink last night? Completely unnecessary.

When you forced your eyes open again blinking through the haze, your realized that you, in fact, were not in your own bed. Your pulse quickened as your gaze darted around. Then it hit you. This was Luigi’s room.

Panic crept up your spine as fragments of last night flickered in your mind. Your last memory from last night was from inside of your own room, Luigi by your side, acting as your self-appointed caretaker. But… how had you ended up here?

You slowly glanced down at yourself. Your breath caught in your throat. A pair of gray shorts, at least five sizes too big, hung loosely around your hips. And you immediately recognized the shirt you were wearing. Luigi’s shirt. The faded lettering spelling out “BALI” made your heart pound in your chest.

You instinctively sat up straight in the bed, an ill-advised move that sent a spike of pain through your skull. Just as you tried to piece the fragments of memories from last night together, the bathroom door creaked open.

Luigi stepped out.

He froze in the doorway for a second when he saw you were awake, his expression unreadable. Then, a small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice warm and gentle.

Your throat was dry as you swallowed, your fingers pinching the fabric of his shirt between them. “Why am I wearing this?” you blurted out.

His smile widened, and with a chuckle, he crossed the room and sat down beside you on the bed. “Well,” he said, amusement lacing his words, “You tell me.”

You stared at him blankly. “What?”

Luigi leaned back on his hands, smirking. “Last night, you decided that this was the only thing you could possibly wear to bed. And I mean, you were determined. I watched you rummage through my closet like a woman on a mission, and honestly? I was too scared to question it.”

Heat rushed to your face. “Oh my God.”

“Oh, it gets better,” he teased. “After declaring that this was your new favorite outfit that you would wear all summer long, you climbed into my bed, and before I could even protest, you were out cold. I went to brush my teeth, came back, and - ” he gestured to you, grinning, “well, here we are.”

Your hands flew up to cover your burning face. “How drunk was I? It sounds like I was totally unhinged?”

Luigi let out an easy laugh. “Drunk enough to think that those shorts were the perfect addition to your look.” He nodded at them. “Personally, I would’ve gone with my blue ones, but hey, you’re the fashion expert.”

A groan of mortification slipped from your lips as you peeked at him through your fingers. “I look like Adam Sandler.”

He laughed again, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “You’d look gorgeous in anything.”

Your breath hitched. His gaze was soft, unwavering. No trace of amusement now, just sincerity.

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. “I’m so sorry,” you muttered. “For being a drunk brat. For being a mess at the club. For taking over your bed. For stealing your clothes.”

Luigi shook his head, his expression turning gentle. “Please don’t apologize.” He reached out, covering your hand with his own. His warmth seeped into your skin, steadying you. “I’m just glad you felt safe enough with me to let me take care of you.”

A silence stretched between you, heavy and charged. His fingers lingered atop yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. Your heart pounded against your ribs.

You swallowed hard. “Should I… regret anything from last night? Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

Luigi’s eyes darkened slightly, something unreadable flickering in them. “Absolutely not,” he murmured. “I know I don’t.”

Your breath caught. He remembered. And judging by the look in his eyes, he knew you did too.

Before you could say another word, he stood abruptly. That’s when you noticed that he was already dressed in his workout gear.

“I’m heading out for a run,” he announced, far too cheerful for someone who had been drinking last night.

You scoffed. “Well, I’m not.”

Luigi chuckled, hesitating for just a beat before stepping closer. Then, before you could react, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

Your heart nearly exploded.

“See you in a bit, sweetie,” he murmured against your skin before straightening, striding to the door, and slipping out, careful not to make too much noise.

Now left alone in his room, a wave of panic crashed over you, stealing the breath from your lungs. This was bad. Really bad.

You had spent so much time carefully avoiding, suppressing, even denying the truth, too scared to fully acknowledge the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface. But now, in the bright morning light, with his words from last night still ringing in your ears, there was no escaping it.

This wasn’t just lusting after a, to be fair, extremely sexy man. It wasn’t just a crush or a passing infatuation with the most undeniably, almost unfairly, gorgeous human being you had ever laid eyes on. No. This was something terrifyingly real.

You were absolutely, devastatingly, breathtakingly in love with Luigi Nicholas Mangione.

And now, you had to figure out what the hell to do with that realization.

…

Ten minutes of thoughts running wild through your mind later, you pushed past the weight of your hangover and made your way downstairs. Still wearing the damn Bali shirt, but you just had to talk to Celine. Now.

You noted your parents were tucked away in the study, immersed in their work - clear. Luigi was still out on his morning run - also clear. But as you stepped onto the patio, your stomach dropped. Ben was there, lounging beside Celine, sipping lazily on a nearly empty drink through a straw. Fantastic.

Still, you had no choice. Maybe he needed to hear this too.

Bracing yourself, you stomped over to the sunbeds, casting a shadow over Celine until she finally looked up from her book, her gaze sweeping over you.

“Nice shirt,” she remarked dryly. “Nice hair and makeup.”

You must have looked insane. Your head was pounding, and you didn’t have the energy for small talk. You cut right to the point.

“I just feel like… I might be in love with Luigi?”

Silence.

Celine blinked at you once, then, without a word, turned back to her book.

Ben slurped noisily through his straw.

Frustration surged up your throat. “Why aren’t you reacting to this?”

Celine didn’t even glance up. “Well, we thought this was like… A fact? A well-known fact at that?”

“What?” Your stomach twisted.        

“That you yourself is finally realizing this now is actually quite surprising?”

Ben nodded in agreement. “Even I knew.”

“You knew? What does that even mean?” Panic prickled at the back of your neck.

“Well, we all talk about it.”

It started to piss you off  how Celine didn’t even bother to look up from her book. This was potential life changing information.

“Who talks about it?!”

“You know. Mom? Dad? Jacob?” Celine finally looked at Ben, as if inviting him to elaborate.

“Yeah, definitely Jacob,” he added. “And Lydia. And Manuela.”

“Jacob? Lydia? Manuela?” Your voice pitched higher with each name. “So you’re telling me this has been a topic of discussion at work?” Beads of sweat formed at your temples.

“Liv, don’t be ridiculous – you’re messing with us, right?” Celine finally placed her book on her lap and sat up, her brows knitting together. “Be fucking for real? Are you seriously just now figuring this out?”

You flung your arms up. “YES?”

Her lips parted slightly before she let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Wow. Didn’t know you were this clueless. Learn something new about you every day, that’s for sure.” She slightly rolled her eyes and leaned back on her elbows, studying your face.

You felt like the ground beneath you had shifted. “This is stressing me the fuck out, Cel. You know I hate being the center of gossip, and now I just - I look like an idiot.”

“Why?” She seemed genuinely perplexed.

“Because!” You gestured wildly. “I look like a fool? Like some immature little girl who lost all common sense and fell for someone I was supposed to have a professional relationship with? After watching thirst traps of him hours on end?”

“Well, the thirst trap watching was a choice you made for yourself” Ben let out a low chuckle.

“It was literally my job, Ben?! Ask mom!”

“Uh-huh,” he smirked. “Ask Mom.” You groaned as he parroted you mockingly.

Celine sat up straighter, pushing her sunglasses onto her head with an unreadable expression. “Liv… I think you’re misunderstanding.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean?”

“We weren’t just talking about you.”

Your heart pounded. “But - you just said - he just said” You pointed accusingly at Ben, who looked way too pleased with himself.

“We talked about both of you.”

Your breath caught. “What…?”

“Both of you - you and Luigi,” Celine clarified. “How you’re obviously in love with each other and probably have been for at least a year.”

The world tilted.

Ben took another long sip. “Yeah, it’s kind of embarrassing how long this has been going on.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears.

“Liv,” Celine sighed dramatically, “just go get your man already. I beg of you. I just know you’re going to have the most mind-blowing sex after all this build-up, and I cannot wait to hear all about it.”

Ben nearly choked. “Excuse me? Please leave me out of this, I’m still right here you know?”

“Oh, come on,” Celine scoffed, waving him off. “I mean, he just got that intense, passionate energy about him. You know he’s going to take his time with you, make sure it’s perfect, talk you through it, never breaking eye contact. Mark my words - multiple orgasms. And honestly? I love that for you.”

Celine has the widest of smiles across her face. Was she kicking her feet?

Ben turned to her, horrified. “Celine! I’m still fucking here?”

She grinned. “Well, I know? I’m just making sure my sister is taken care of? That should be in your interest as well?”

“How the hell is your sister’s sex life any of my business?” He shot to his feet. “I’m going for a walk. You two are insane.”

As he stormed off, Celine merely shrugged. “Well good riddance”.

She was already slipping back into her book as if none of this had happened.

You, on the other hand, stood frozen, your thoughts a tangled, chaotic mess. Everyone had known. Everyone had talked about it. That you were in love with Luigi… And that he… was in love with you.

Your stomach flipped.

For a brief moment, the mortifying conversation about your potential orgasms right in front of Ben didn’t even register.

All you could think about was him.

Chapter Text

You were in love with Luigi. And he was in love with you.

Your head was spinning, a whirlwind of emotions churning inside you. Excitement, of course, but also a new really scary feeling, like standing at the edge of an abyss, peering into the unknown. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? But the stakes had never felt higher.

Were you really willing to risk everything and to put your relationship with Luigi on the line in pursuit of something deeper, something romantic? And what if it didn’t work out? Would everything you had together unravel before your eyes?

But... what if it did work out?

What if it worked out with Luigi Nicholas Mangione.

The thought sent your heart into wild backflips, an electrifying thrill surging through your chest. The uncertainty was unbearable, the weight of it pressing down on you, making your head, your chest, even your stomach feel as though they might simultaneously explode.

There was only one way to ease this relentless storm of emotions - you had to talk to Luigi. Right now. You had no idea what you would say, no perfectly crafted words prepared, but you knew one thing: everything always felt better when you talked to him. Maybe this would too.

But then, as if by some cruel cosmic joke, the moment you desperately needed to be alone with him and talk in private, Luigi became the most popular guy in the house.

You suggested a long walk - suddenly, Celine materialized in the hallway, her crossbody bag slung over her shoulder, clutching her Stanley cup.

You asked him to join you on the upstairs balcony - out of nowhere, Ben arrived with a tray of coffee cups, casually suggesting a game of Yahtzee for the three of you.

You thought you could slip away to the supermarket together - only for your dad to suddenly develop a deep craving for charcuterie, insisting he come along to personally select his own prosciutto, climbing into the car before you could even protest.

Everywhere Luigi went, someone had to follow. You were losing your mind. With every minute that passed, with every failed attempt to steal him away, your frustration built and built until it threatened to boil over. It was as if the universe itself had conspired to keep you apart, feeding the tension inside you until you felt like you might combust.

After lunch, you spotted Luigi leaving the kitchen, heading toward the hallway. This was it. You finally had your chance. Without a second thought, you almost ran after him, grabbing his arm before pushing him between the crowded row of coats hanging by the door.

“Oh, fuck,” he blurted out, startled as his back pressed against the rack of jackets. “What the hell is going on?”

You stared at him, breathless, your pulse racing. Desperation flickered in your eyes, raw and unrestrained.

“I need to talk to you,” you said, your voice urgent. “Alone.”

Luigi blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to mild amusement as he took in your wild-eyed determination. “Yeah, sure? Did something happen?” He raised an eyebrow, his tone wary but curious.

“Yes. Something happened,” you said, your voice tight, serious. “Something big.”

Luigi’s brows knit together. “Oh, shit. Okay.” He straightened slightly, his expression sharpening. “You wanna talk now?”

You darted a quick glance around, paranoia settling in your bones. “No. It’s not safe. My family is fucking everywhere. They hear everything.”

Luigi snorted, a laugh bubbling up as he shook his head. “Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious,” you hissed. “Celine, my dad, Ben - everyone in this house is a goddamn gossip. I don’t want them eavesdropping on this.”

Luigi chuckled again, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Alright, alright. Whatever you say.” He exhaled and tilted his head, considering. “How about this - after dinner, we go to my room. We’ll tell them we’re watching a movie. No one will bother us.”

You hesitated for only a second before nodding, your nerves still alight, but at least now, you had a plan.

“Deal.”

…

You were painfully aware of how you were acting like a total weirdo at dinner. Your dad had prepared Vongole, one of your favorite dishes, usually - but tonight, the mere thought of eating twisted your stomach into impossible knots. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't force down even the smallest bite.

Your mind was elsewhere, entirely consumed by the looming conversation that awaited you after dinner. Tonight, you and Luigi would finally get time alone to talk. And tonight, you would have to confess to your feelings for him.

The thought sent a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over you. It would probably be awkward as hell, but there was no holding it in any longer - it had been simmering inside you for too long.

Luigi, on the other hand, seemed utterly unbothered by the impending conversation. If he had any nerves at all, he certainly didn’t show it. Then again, he was too busy running his mouth to even notice how weird you were acting. He wasn’t eating much either, but that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with the fact that he was, as usual, yapping nonstop throughout dinner. How the hell did he always have something to say?

At the moment, he and Ben were locked in a passionate debate about time travel.

“If it were possible,” Ben mused between bites, “would it be ethical to go back and change the past? I mean, even if it was just to alter your own life, you’d inevitably be messing with someone else’s future too, right?”

Your head throbbed just listening to them dissect the moral implications. The last thing you needed right now was a deep philosophical discussion about regret and the nature of fate.

“I for one, would love to time travel,” Ben declared, turning to Celine with a grin. “I’d go back and make sure we met earlier.”

Celine scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Oh please. You expect me to believe you’d willingly give up your college fuckboy phase? I know you better than that – nice try though”.

Ben smirked, shrugging. “You’re probably right, babe. I might’ve needed to get that out of my system.”

Luigi shook his head while your parents, experts at selective hearing, pretended they hadn’t just been subjected to that particular confession. It was a skill they had perfected ever since Ben became part of the family.

Ben turned his attention back to Luigi. “How about you?” he asked, tilting his head in challenge. “Would you change something if you could go back in time?”

Luigi chuckled. “Believe it or not - no.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, his expression turning playful. “Really? Not even to, I don’t know… delete those home-made, cinema-quality sex tapes from your laptop before it got seized by law enforcement?”

“Fuck you,” Luigi laughed, launching an empty water bottle at Ben, who dodged it with ease.

“Ben, no,” your mother groaned. “Please don’t remind me. Sex tape-gate nearly sent me into early retirement.”

“Note how he’s not denying it.” Ben chuckled. “I always knew you were a freak Mangione.”

Laughter erupted around the table, but as the energy began to settle, Ben sighed dramatically. “Fun’s over. I need to go lay down for a bit.” He turned to your dad with a lazy grin. “Marc, as always, amazing food.”

Everyone began gathering their plates, stacking them to carry into the kitchen. You caught Luigi’s eye across the table and gave him a pointed look. He understood immediately, clearing his throat as he pushed his chair back.

“Yeah, I need to lay down for a bit to,” he said casually. “Me and Liv are heading upstairs to watch a movie.”

Your dad’s face lit up with interest. “Oh, that sounds fun! What movie are you watching?” His eager gaze flicked between the two of you.

Your stomach dropped. Absolutely not. No fucking way that he was about to crash your fake movie night. This was not happening.

Your brain scrambled for an answer. “We’re watching Gladiator II.”

You held your breath as your dad frowned, visibly rifling through his memory. Seconds stretched unbearably as he hummed in thought.

And then, finally, he sighed. “Oh, right! We watched that last summer already. Bummer - maybe next time, then.”

Relief flooded through you so intensely that you let out an audible sigh and out of the corner of your eye, you caught Luigi biting back a laugh.

“Sure,” you said quickly, not giving your dad a chance to reconsider. “Absolutely.” Then you shot Luigi another pointed look. Time to go. He followed you as you moved towards the stairs and soon you were finally both heading upstairs – alone.

…

As you stepped into Luigi’s room, the soft click of the door closing behind you sent a shiver of anticipation racing down your spine. Excitement and nerves tangled inside you, a volatile mix that made your breath uneven.

Luigi walked past you, his movements unhurried, effortless. He grabbed his phone from his desk and tapped the screen, setting music to play. Then, without a word, he sat himself down on the edge of his bed, facing you with a quiet intensity, his expression unreadable. Soft, yet searching.

The familiar opening notes of Somewhere Only We Know by Keane drifted through the speakers, and for a brief moment, the anxiety twisting in your chest was replaced by something else - nostalgia.

The song was from a playlist Luigi had shared with you back when you first met, when he was still pre-trial. You had listened to that playlist on repeat for months, and this was one of your favorite songs on it, You had told him that once, and judging by the way he was looking at you now, he had remembered.

“You wanted to talk,” Luigi said, pulling you out of your thoughts. His voice was low, careful. You met his gaze - those impossibly dark, knowing eyes - and your mind went blank. Panic flared in your chest. This was it.

Without thinking, you covered your face with your hands, letting out a small, exaggerated sob.

“Hey…” Luigi murmured, his tone laced with concern. “What’s going on?”

He reached for your hand, gently pulling you closer, forcing you to look at him again. His brows furrowed, the soft worry on his face making your heart ache.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” you whispered, barely able to get the word out. “Nothing is wrong at all. In fact… you could say it’s the opposite.”

Luigi tilted his head slightly, studying you. “So… the opposite of something wrong is… something being right?” His lips curved into a small smile. “Am I close?”

“Yes. Kind of,” you admitted shyly. You felt ridiculous - like an awkward schoolgirl with a crush. Frustration bubbled up inside you, and with a quiet groan, you tugged your hand from his grasp, turning your back to him. You took a few steps toward the door, rubbing your arms as if that could shake off the nervous energy clinging to your skin.

“I don’t know why I’m acting like this,” you muttered, exasperated with yourself. “I feel like I’m fifteen again.”

You stole a glance at him over your shoulder, expecting amusement, but his expression had shifted. Something in his eyes had changed—like he understood exactly what was happening.

A heavy silence stretched between you, your pulse thrumming against your ribs.

Then, suddenly, he reached out his hands.

“Come here,” he said, his voice softer now, lower. There was something in the way he said it - something warm, steady, patient.

You hesitated, trembling slightly as you took slow steps back toward him. You expected him to take your hands again, but instead, he reached past them, gripping your waist and pulling you into him.

You didn’t know how it happened - whether he moved first, or you did, whether it was instinct or inevitability - but before you could even think, you were straddling his lap, your legs settling around him as if they had always belonged there. His arms locked around your waist, holding you firm, pressing you into him.

Heat spread through your body like wildfire. The closeness was intoxicating, overwhelming. The warmth of him seeped through your clothes, and for a dizzying moment, you forgot how to breathe.

Your faces were impossibly close, the distance between you nearly nonexistent. Luigi tilted your chin downward with his fingers, forcing your gaze to meet his. His eyes - so dark, so intense - searched yours with something unreadable.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice now thick and raspy. “It’s just me. Nothing is different. Just better.”

His face was devastatingly close to you. His god damn face. His absolutely perfection of a face.

The contradiction of it, the effortless balance between masculine and heartbreakingly beautiful - the sharp lines of his jaw shadowed with stubble, his lips soft and full, slightly parted. His long lashes casting shadows against his cheekbones. You wanted to weep just looking at him, just witnessing the sheer perfection of his existence. Him and his gorgeous, gorgeous face.

You had never in your life needed a man the way you needed him.

Luigi let his hands slide up your back, slow and deliberate. “I have an idea of what you want to talk to me about,” he said softly. “Can I try to say something to you first and see if we might have the same thing on our mind?”.

You nodded silently. You couldn’t speak even if you had wanted to. The intimacy between the two of you, you sitting on top of him like this, had your heart slamming against your ribs so violently you were sure he could feel it.

“I have a confession to make,” he murmured. “But I think you might have already noticed.”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer. His gaze flickered down to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“I think you might have noticed… that I’m in love with you.”

He didn’t blink. He didn’t waver.

And you, if not for his arms locked around you, felt as though you might have fallen right through the floor.

“And my confession is…” He paused, his voice dipping into something almost reverent. “That I’ve been in love with you since the second I laid my eyes on you.”

Your vision blurred at the edges. The world tilted, the weight of his words so immense you could barely process them. You wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

Luigi’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles as he continued, his voice gentle. “And there’s something I’ve wanted to do since the day I met you.” His fingers brushed against your waist. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

Your breath hitched, your insides flipping over themselves while his gaze never wavered, waiting, patient. The only thing you could do was nod.

His signature wide smile spread across his face, radiant, disarming, and before you could second-guess anything, you smiled back.

Was this real? Was this actually happening?

One of his hands came up, fingertips tracing the curve of your cheek, the touch featherlight. He didn’t rush. He didn’t move in all at once. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on yours, searching, as if he wanted to memorize every flicker of emotion crossing your face.

And then, finally, finally, he leaned in.

His lips were warm, impossibly soft, moving with a tenderness that sent a shudder through you. But what sent you reeling was the way he kept his eyes open, locked onto yours even as he kissed you. That raw, intimate connection made your stomach tighten and your body melt against him all at once.

The sensation was unreal.

Your head spun as the kiss deepened, your heart hammering, a new kind of heat pooling low in your belly. When his hand moved to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, a soft gasp slipped from your lips. Luigi took that opportunity to slide his tongue between them, tasting you, teasing you.

Your body reacted instantly, it was like opening a floodgate.

Every ounce of pent-up tension, every unspoken emotion, every stolen glance and lingering touch between the two of you, it all crashed forward at once. You didn’t hold back. Neither did he.

Luigi’s movements became less controlled, more desperate. His breath came harder, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you into him, needing you closer.

Your hips moved against him instinctively, chasing friction, and the low, guttural moan he let out against your mouth was the single most devastatingly sexy sound you had ever heard.

That sound alone sent another sharp pulse of heat straight between your legs.

In one swift movement, Luigi’s hands slid to your ass, gripping firmly as he turned you over, pressing your back onto the mattress beneath him. He hovered above you, bracing his weight on his forearms, his breath ragged. His hands found your hips, holding you there, and for a moment, he simply looked at you.

A slow smile ghosted across his lips.

This was happening. This was finally happening.

But then something in his expression shifted - softened, turned almost vulnerable.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you mine now? Are you really mine?”

Emotion swelled in your chest so violently you thought it might burst. Burst with everything you felt for this amazing man.

“Yes,” you whispered, smiling. “I’m yours.”

Luigi let out a sound between a laugh and a breath of relief before his lips crashed back onto yours, the hunger in his kiss making your whole body tremble. He kissed you like he needed you. Like he had been starving for you.

He was an amazing kisser, and with his tongue now deep in your mouth, your fingers slid beneath his shirt, brushing over his bare skin, and you moaned at the sensation. The ridges of his abs were unreal - solid, defined, everything you had imagined.

He was so unbelievably sexy and you just wanted all of him. Right now.

Without hesitation, you reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it up, and he helped you pull it over his head. The moment it was gone, your eyes trailed over him, drinking in every inch of his now-bare upper body. He was nothing short of perfection.

And when he pressed himself back down against you, it sent a sharp, needy ache straight through you. His lips trailed to your neck, finding a spot just beneath your ear that made you shudder.

“I want you,” you breathed, your voice barely more than a moan. “I want all of you. Now.”

Luigi exhaled sharply, his breath hot against your skin.

“I want you too.” His voice was low, thick with restraint. “It’s all I want, believe me.”

“But…”

Your stomach clenched. “But what?”

His jaw tensed. He let out a quiet, frustrated sound before rolling off you and onto his back, rubbing a hand over his face. “I need to talk to your mom”

You blinked, propping yourself up on one elbow. “What?”

He groaned, dragging a hand through his curls. “I need to talk to Karen before we go any further.”

You stared at him. “Luigi. What are you on about? This isn’t the 1950s.”

He let out a soft chuckle, glancing at you. “I know.” A pause. “But what your mom has done for me? It’s unreal. She saved my life in more ways than one. It wouldn’t feel right to sleep with her daughter without her knowing I have honest intentions.”

You groaned, flopping onto your back. “That’s… actually kind of noble.”

“I know it’s frustrating,” he admitted, shifting to face you again. “But it’s the right thing to do.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, shaking your head. “Fine. I get it.”

But then your eyes flicked over to him, his broad chest rising and falling, his lips red and swollen from kissing you, his hair tousled - and you narrowed your gaze playfully.

“But just so you know…” You trailed a finger down his stomach, watching the way his breath hitched. “You’ve got me extremely frustrated right now.”

A slow smirk spread across his lips. “Is that so?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Mhm.”

Luigi hesitated for just a second. And then he was on top of you again.

His lips found yours, claiming them with renewed hunger, his hands gripping your body like he couldn’t get enough.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he groaned against your mouth. “We should stop.”

“Then stop,” you teased, and he let out a dramatic, pained whimper against your lips.

“Liv,” he practically begged, forehead against yours. “You’re killing me.”

He tried to physically restrain himself by shaking his head to himself. “No, we can’t do this now, we need to stop”.

You looked at him teasingly. “You might not want to go any further, but you can’t stop me from doing it”.

“What are you talking about?” he looked confused.

You grinned but didn’t answer, your hand trailing down between your bodies, slipping beneath the waistband of your own loose fitted cotton shorts. The second he realized what you were doing, his breath caught.

“Liv, you’re not serious…” His voice was rough, laced with disbelief and dark desire.

You let out a quiet moan, slowly letting your fingers slid in underneath your underwear, soaked with your arousal. You let two fingers slowly circle your clit and let out a gasp at the sensation you had so been longing for. Luigi was just staring at you, lips parted, breathing slowly.

“I wish you could feel how wet you’ve made me” you said slowly. “How wet you’ve made me without even touching me properly yet.”

His resolve crumbled in an instant. As you continued to move your fingers over your clit and down lower closer to your soaking wet entrance, Luigi kissed you hard, his tongue delving into your mouth with a raw, aching hunger. His hands gripped your waist, holding you in place as your movements grew bolder, the slickness beneath your moving fingers making almost obscene sounds.

Luigi groaned into your mouth. “I can hear it”.

You smiled against his lips “Good”.

“Fuck… Liv… You’re driving me absolutely crazy, do you know that? I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

You moaned in response, your body teetering on the edge while you pushed two fingers inside yourself.

Suddenly, he pushed himself up, kneeling between your legs, eyes locked onto you with a hunger that made you tremble. He gripped the waistband of your shorts, his fingers curling against the fabric.

“Can I?” he asked, voice low, almost reverent. “I want to watch you.”

You nodded, breathless.

With one swift motion, he slid them off, leaving you bare before him. His gaze roamed over you, his chest rising and falling with every shaky breath.

The way you were exposed to him, the way he was kneeling between your legs, his broad chest and perfect thick abs tensing and flexing with every breath he took, watching you touch yourself – absolutely unraveled you.

This was the exact view you needed to push yourself tumbling over the edge, and you tried to hold in the intensifying moans. “Luigi, I’m gonna…” you gasped.

“Please, baby, I want to see you come” he murmured, Your body arched, a broken cry caught in your throat as you shattered beneath his gaze. His hands tightened on your hips, grounding you, whispering your name.

That’s when you felt the orgasm crashing over you in waves making your whole body shiver and your legs shake. As you tried to stifle a scream, you grabbed Luigis hand to cover your mouth.

When you finally came down from the intense pleasure, throwing your head back into the pillow giggling, Luigi was grinning – an impossible wide, amazed and utterly enchanted smile. You smiled back.

“Liv… That was… That was something alright. Fuck. I don’t even know what to say. I need to have that talk with Karen right now. Before I lose my mind.”

“Shut up” you giggled, brushing a hand over his face. “Just go talk to my mom and get that fucking over with. I already waited for you long enough”.

Chapter Text

Your mom had been radiant with joy and excitement that morning when Luigi, over breakfast, had asked her to join him for lunch downtown later - just the two of them. She had accepted the invitation with a delighted smile – acting flustered almost like a high school girl getting asked to prom. But could you really blame her?

They had settled on driving down around noon, since your mom and dad had a conference call to attend in the study before heading out.

With your parents soon occupied and Celine and Ben out for a leisurely morning walk, you and Luigi had seized the opportunity to take a swim, the quiet of the house lending itself to the tranquil moment.

The water was refreshingly cool as you stepped in, sending a shiver up your spine and leaving your skin dappled with goosebumps. You inhaled sharply, savoring the contrast between the summer heat and the chilled embrace of the pool. Your gold metallic Hunza G bikini, one of your favorites, shimmered beneath the morning sun - its delicate threads catching the light over the twist-front top as you sank deeper into the water. Your hair, twisted up into a messy bun, swayed slightly with the movement.

You did not have the energy to do a full hair wash today - last night’s sleep had been restless at best. Not that it had been unpleasant, but you had spent most of the night caught in an endless loop of thoughts about Luigi, your heart racing at the mere memory of him and what you had been up to last night.

The two of you had made a mature decision of sleeping in separate rooms for the night. After everything that had already gone down during your fake movie night in his room, you both knew that if you had stayed together, self-restraint would have been a losing battle. You didn’t trust each other or yourselves to keep your hands of each other - and since Luigi had made it clear that he wanted to speak to your mother before actually sleeping with you, you wanted to respect that.

At first, the choice had frustrated you, but the more you thought about it, the sweeter it seemed. It was proof that you weren’t just some fleeting romance to him. The fact that he wanted your mother’s blessing knowing how much he adored and respected her, meant that he must be super serious about you. The thought of it sent a warm thrill through your chest.

“Want some company?”

You turned at the sound of Luigis voice, only to find him stepping onto the pool deck, already stripped down to nothing but a pair of deep blue swim trunks. Your breath caught. As always, the sight of him and his ripped body sent your stomach tumbling into free fall.

His body was pure, sculpted perfection - muscles taut beneath sun-kissed skin, his golden tan deepened by days spent outdoors. He squinted against the bright light, his thick beautiful brows furrowing slightly, his lips pursed in that cute little way that was so unintentionally endearing it nearly undid you.

God, you wanted to kiss him again.

“I’d love to,” you murmured, barely able to find your voice.

With effortless grace, he dove in, slicing through the water like it was second nature. He resurfaced just a few feet in front of you, his dark curls soaked, droplets glistening on his sun-warmed skin. He blinked the water from his long lashes and ran a hand through his hair, tilting his face toward you with a slow, devastating smile.

And just like that, you felt yourself unravel, every ounce of resistance dissolving into the shimmering turquoise depths around you. You forced yourself to appear unaffected, reclining against the pool’s edge with an air of nonchalance, your arms stretched out behind you. But inside, your pulse hammered, almost betraying the effortless composure you tried so hard to maintain.

Luigi had this absolutely irresistible way of embodying both raw masculinity and the soft, endearing charm of the cutest ever puppy. The combination was utterly lethal - you didn’t stand a chance against the absolute force of it.

Your pulse quickened as he moved toward you, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. That familiar, devastating smile - playful yet knowing, as if he could read every thought racing through your mind. The water lapped gently around you, but all you could focus on was him. His presence, his closeness, the way anticipation curled in your stomach.

Just as he was about to reach you, he suddenly disappeared beneath the surface. A moment passed, then another. You were just about to call his name, when a pair of strong hands wrapped around your waist, warm against your skin even underwater. A startled gasp escaped you as you felt the press of his lips against your stomach. He traced a slow path upward, placing feather-light kisses all over your body.

When his curly head finally broke through the surface, you were already laughing, unable to contain the sheer joy bubbling inside you.

"Did you miss this?" he teased, his voice rich with amusement.

There was no reason for you to deny it. You just nodded, smiling so wide it hurt. Yes. Yes, you had missed this. Badly.

His hands slid lower, adjusting the way he held you until your bodies aligned beneath the water. Then, with a sudden, confident squeeze of your ass, he pulled you flush against him. A sharp inhale caught in your throat, heat rushing to your face as your hips instinctively pressed forward, molding against his.

And then his expression changed. The teasing glint in his eyes softened into something deeper – he almost looked out of it. His fingers flexed against your skin, his breathing unsteady.

"You are," he murmured, his voice a quiet reverence, "the prettiest thing I have ever laid my eyes on."

Your heart clenched so tightly it ached. A warmth spread through your chest, overflowing, unbearable. You didn’t know what else to do than to forcefully grab his face with both of your hands and place kiss after kiss on his soft pouting lips. You kissed him again and again, unable to stop yourself, your fingers threading through his damp curls.

A breathless giggle slipped from your lips as you pulled back just enough to whisper, "You're just so cute. You’re like a damn puppy."

Luigi chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin. "A puppy, huh?"

"I'm serious! You're like genuinely the most beautiful, perfect human being." You smiled, and for a split second, it almost looked like he was blushing. "Do you even have any flaws?"

A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face, a devilish glint returning to his eyes.

"You know," he mused, pausing just long enough to make you curious, "I never told anyone this, but… I actually did go to jail once. For about eighteen months. No biggie though."

You let out a short laugh. "Okay, baddie," you murmured, cutting him off with another kiss, sealing his lips with yours to shut him up before he could say anything else ridiculous.

Luigi’s lips traveled slowly along the side of your neck, each kiss lingering, warm, and deliberate. The contrast of the cool water surrounding you and the heat of his mouth sent shivers down your spine. His hands moved beneath the surface, gripping your ass with a slow, rhythmic pressure that made your breath hitch.

Instinctively, you tilted your head to the side, granting him better access, and a soft moan escaped your lips. The sound seemed to fuel him and his grip tightened slightly, his movements growing more possessive.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you let your fingers wander, tracing the curve of his neck before raking your nails gently down his upper back. A deep, guttural groan rumbled from his chest, and as you pulled him closer, you felt the unmistakable tremor that ran through him. His skin prickled with goosebumps beneath your touch, and when you glanced up at him, his eyes were dark, filled with something raw, something barely restrained.

"Ok, this is borderline painful," Luigi murmured, his voice a deep, strained rasp. He exhaled slowly, as if trying to regain control, but his eyes betrayed him. "You have no idea how much I’ve been fantasizing about you."

A rush of heat crawled up your neck and you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, searching his face as if needing confirmation that he wasn’t just teasing.

"Have you really?" you asked, voice full of curiosity and desire.

Luigi's lips parted slightly as his gaze dipped, shamelessly trailing down your body. "Yeah," he admitted, voice lower, rougher. "Let’s just say your face has been popping into my head during certain… moments. And not just your perfect little face." His hands slid lower, fingers curling around your ass beneath the water. He squeezed, deliberate and slow, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "This perfect ass has been on my mind too."

A sharp inhale hitched in your throat as he traced the edge of your bikini bottoms, his fingertips barely brushing underneath it.

"Watching you run around the house in these cute little bikinis," he continued, his voice taking on a raw, almost desperate edge. "You have no idea what you do to me. The one you wore the other day, the blue one…”

"The triangle one that ties in the front?" you interrupted, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

Luigi groaned dramatically, throwing his head back as if in agony. "Oh my god. That one. That one did things to me, let me tell you."

You laughed, biting your lip as amusement and thrill swirled inside you. You were enjoying this way too much.

"Do you remember how I spilled my coffee all over my shirt that day?" he asked, eyes gleaming with something devilish.

"Yeah," you said, frowning slightly as you recalled the moment. "When you had to go upstairs to change? We all laughed at you for being so clumsy."

His smirk deepened. "Well, that wasn’t an accident."

You blinked at him, your smile faltering. "What?"

Luigi held your gaze, his expression unreadable for a beat - then, slowly, a wicked grin spread across his lips. "I needed an excuse to go have some time for myself” he admitted.

The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning. Your mouth parted, eyes widening. "No…"

He only nodded, grinning as he watched you piece it together.

"You did not go jerk off mid pool day?" you accused, staring at him in disbelief.

"What did you want me to do?" he huffed, throwing his hands up as if exasperated. "Go sit down for lunch with your parents and sister with a hard dick?"

A shocked laugh burst from your lips, and you reached out and playfully shoved his shoulder. "You’re insane."

His eyes darkened, the amusement still there but now tangled with something deeper. "No," he corrected, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your body is insane."

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his mouth pressing hot and open-mouthed against the curve of your neck. A gasp escaped you, the world tilting slightly as his lips traced along your pulse, lingering, tasting.

Then, as if his restraint had finally snapped, his hand drifted upward, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple through the fabric of your bikini. A quiet moan slipped from your lips before you could stop it, and your heart slammed against your ribs, a frantic, desperate rhythm that only he could hear.

Luigi's breathing grew heavier, his movements more intense, and his hands were roaming over your lower body with a near-desperate need. His fingers traced along your hips, your waist, as if he couldn’t get enough. His grip tightened, and the water around you rippled with his urgency.

Everything else faded and the world outside of him ceased to exist. You forgot where you were, forgot that you were still in the pool – and that just inside the house your parents were only a few steps away. Nothing mattered right now except his large hands exploring your body, the way he clung to you like he was afraid you might disappear.

"I can’t believe I get to hold you like this," he murmured against your neck. "It doesn’t feel real."

A soft smile curved your lips as you pressed them against his soft head of curls. "It’s real, baby," you whispered, your voice tender. "I promise you."

Your words had him tighten his grip, pulling you even closer, burying his face against your shoulder. You understood why - because you felt it too. This was too perfect, too surreal.

"My pretty boy," you whispered, your arms wrapping even tighter around him.

And then - voices. Familiar ones.

Your stomach dropped.

The unmistakable chatter of your mom and dad echoed from the patio. Your pulse skyrocketed, a bolt of panic shooting through you. The conference call must have ended earlier than expected.

Luigi, still lost in you, hadn’t noticed. Heart hammering, you patted his shoulder frantically.

"Luigi! My mom and dad!"

He snapped out of it instantly, his reaction impressively swift. His head whipped toward the patio just as your parents stepped outside, luckily too deep into conversation to notice what was going on right in front of them.

With the reflexes of someone who had absolutely been in trouble before, Luigi moved. He dipped under the water in one fluid motion, disappearing beneath the surface before your parents could so much as glance in his direction. You held your breath, watching as he cut through the pool in long, powerful strokes, his body strong and fast beneath the water.

Then, just as your parents turned their attention toward the pool, Luigi surfaced on the opposite side, blinking up at them with an expression of complete innocence.

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

"There you are!" your mom said, her voice warm as she looked between you and Luigi. "Having a nice swim?"

You swallowed hard, forcing your face into something resembling normalcy. "Yeah…" you said, forcing your voice to sound casual. "Really nice."

From the corner of your eye, you saw Luigi biting his lip, barely holding back a smirk.

"Weren’t you in a meeting?" you asked quickly, eager to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"We were," your father huffed, rubbing his temple as he made his way to a sunbed. "But that was a complete waste of time. Fucking idiot." He tossed the newspaper he had been carrying onto the lounger with a sharp exhale.

Your mother sighed, shooting him a disapproving look. "Marc." Then, with a more diplomatic smile, she turned back to you. "Let’s just say this client wasn’t exactly a good fit for us."

You nodded. "Oh, ok… sorry to hear that."

"You don’t have to be," she assured you with a wave of her hand. "This just means I get to spend more time with Luigi. Want to take the car down a little earlier than planned?"

Luigi, now composed and back in charming mode, flashed one of his signature bright smiles. "Sounds like a perfect plan."

Chapter Text

After waving goodbye to Luigi and your mom at the front door, watching them head downtown for their lunch date, you turned and made your way into the kitchen. A quiet sigh escaped your lips - it would be a long, nervous wait until they got back. You needed something to take the edge off, something to calm your nerves and soothe the restless energy simmering just beneath your skin. And it was nearly noon, after all.

The cool air from the open refrigerator brushed against your face as you scanned its contents. Then, you spotted a half-empty bottle of white wine from last night, resting invitingly on the shelf. Bingo.

You retrieved the bottle and poured yourself a generous glass. The chill of it spread through the glass, frosting it ever so slightly. Just as you lifted it to your lips, you heard soft footsteps behind you.

Celine breezed into the kitchen, her workout gear swapped for a bikini and a flowing kaftan after her morning walk with Ben. Her gaze landed on your wine glass, nearly filled to the brim, and she arched a brow.

"Oh. Okay," she said, amusement flickering in her eyes. "One of those days, huh?" She paused, glancing down at her phone to check the time. "Well, it is..." Her voice trailed off for a moment. "11:45." She smirked.

You returned her look with an easy shrug. "I just thought a glass of white wine would go nicely with reading by the pool. Day drinking is perfectly acceptable in Europe, you know. I’m just... adjusting to the culture."

Celine snorted as she followed you onto the sun-drenched patio. Slipping your sunglasses onto your nose, you stepped into the warm breeze. You and Celine claimed a lounger each beneath the largest umbrella, making sure you both could sit in the shade.

Celine made herself comfortable, shrugging off her kaftan and flipping open a book in her lap. After a moment, she spoke, her voice casual.

"So... team Paul Mescal or team Pedro Pascal?"

You glanced at her over the rim of your sunglasses, confused. "Sorry, I’m lost? What do you mean?"

Celine sat up abruptly, making you flinch at the sudden movement. She turned toward you, her expression a mixture of triumph and accusation.

"I knew it! I fucking knew it! No way you and Luigi were watching Gladiator 2 last night!"

Shit. You should’ve known her nosy ass wouldn’t let this slide. Rookie mistake not doing research on a movie you were lying about watching.

"Shut up. I don’t know what you’re talking about." The weak attempt at denial was useless, Celine could sniff out bullshit from a mile away.

"No, you shut up." She pointed at you, grinning. "I knew what kind of movie night you had in mind the second you almost crashed out when dad nearly asked to join you."

You groaned, but the memory of it made you laugh. Celine joined in, shaking her head as if thoroughly entertained by how predictable you were.

Celine gave you a look of satisfaction, she knew she was right. As always.

"So, did you finally get some Italian dick?"

"Celine, please," you sputtered, laughing as you tilted your head back onto the pillow, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. "You’re so inappropriate."

"Yeah, I am – and you should know that by now. You’ve known me for twenty-six years."

Valid point. You propped yourself up on one elbow, pushing your sunglasses onto your head. "Unfortunately, no dick yet." You smirked, watching the gleam of delight spread across her face as she leaned in, hungry for details. "He wants to get mom’s blessing first."

Celine's jaw dropped before she let out a sharp laugh. "Are you serious? He’s actually asking mom for permission to fuck you?" She shook her head in disbelief. "That’s some old-school shit."

"I know." You exhaled, stretching your legs out in front of you. "At first, I was kind of annoyed, but honestly? Now I think it’s kind of cute."

"Hmm." Celine tilted her head, considering. "Maybe. It sure adds to the suspense, though." She winked. "He really wants you to yearn for it."

You grabbed your book and tossed it at her, laughing as she dodged it. "Stop it. He’s just well-raised, okay? I like that he has manners."

“Okay, sure,” Celine said with a teasing smile. “So, this little one-on-one lunch outing with mom happening right now - does that mean you two are for sure fucking tonight then?”

You shifted in your seat, heat rising to your cheeks as a swarm of butterflies wreaked havoc in your stomach. “Stop, you’re making me nervous,” you murmured, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. “The suspense is actually killing me. I’ve never experienced this kind of slow burn in real life before - it’s insanely hot but also so exhausting.”

Celine let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, couldn’t be me. Ben and I slept together the first night we met.” She shrugged, her tone completely unapologetic. “I honestly don’t know how you’re doing it. The tension between you two is so thick it’s practically another resident in the house at this point.”

You giggled and Celine’s expression softened as she looked at you, a quiet kind of joy in her eyes. She was clearly thrilled for her baby sister.

“I really don’t think you have anything to be nervous about,” she said gently. “You two are meant for each other.”

…

As Luigi and your mom stepped out of the car and onto the sun-drenched piazza downtown, the midday heat wrapped around them like a thick blanket. It was the warmest day yet since you arrived in Italy, and both had wisely chosen light, breathable linen outfits - Luigi in a crisp white button-down and your mother in a flowing cream-colored maxi dress, elegantly paired with a wide-brimmed straw hat that shielded her from the sun.

Their destination was a familiar one - Da Eraldo, your family’s favorite local lunch spot. The moment they arrived, a waiter greeted them warmly at the entrance, then led them to their reserved table at the far end of the outdoor seating area. It was shaded beneath a large umbrella, positioned just right so that the occasional sea breeze drifting in from the harbor provided a welcome relief from the heat.

“Such a beautiful day, isn’t it?” your mom mused, her eyes sweeping over the gentle waves rocking the boats in the marina, the slow rhythm of people walking along the boardwalk.

“Amazing,” Luigi replied absently. His mind was elsewhere.

He hated to admit it, but he was nervous. Really nervous. He knew this conversation had to happen, yet the thought of it made his pulse quicken. What if she didn’t approve? He could hardly entertain the possibility without a full-blown panic setting in.

They made casual small talk as they ordered, their drinks arriving promptly while they waited for their meals.

“I’m so glad we have this time, just the two of us,” your mom said, a warm smile spreading across her face. “It might be selfish of me, but I swear, I’ve been having withdrawals from not having our regular one-on-one talks like we did when you were in jail.”

Luigi chuckled, as did she.

“But in all seriousness,” she continued, “as much as I love our conversations, nothing makes me happier than seeing you spending so much time with Liv, Celine, and Ben. You all seem to be getting along so well, and I just want you to know how much that means to me.”

Luigi cleared his throat, suddenly feeling as though his collar had tightened around his neck. His fingers fidgeted against the condensation on his glass. This was the time. There was no reason to wait any longer.

“Yeah, about that…”

Your mother raised a curious brow.

“There’s actually a reason I wanted to talk to you today, privately.” He met her gaze briefly before looking away, gathering the courage to continue. “It’s about Liv.”

Your mother’s expression shifted. “Liv?” she repeated, puzzled. “What about her?”

Luigi inhaled sharply and his heart pounded against his ribs. He couldn’t mess this up.

“Karen… there aren’t enough words to express how much love and respect I have for you,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “You know this - I’ve told you before. You have, quite literally, saved my life in more ways than one.”

A flicker of concern crossed your mother’s face. Her brows knitted together. “Luigi, sweetheart… I know that. Where is this coming from?”

Luigi forced himself to keep going. “I would never want to jeopardize our relationship, not for anything. And I have the utmost respect for you and your family.” His throat felt tight, his voice strained. “But I’ve found myself in a situation with Liv. A situation where…” He exhaled, bracing himself. “Where I’ve fallen completely, irrevocably in love with her.”

He swallowed hard and gathered the last of his courage, lifting his gaze to meet your moms’ eyes.

She stared at him, stunned, her expression unreadable.

Then, to his absolute horror, she let out a loud, gasping sob, dropping her head into her hands, elbows braced against the table.

Luigi froze.

Panic flooded his system like ice water. Fuck.

“Karen, let me just – let me explain,” he said quickly, his voice low but urgent. A few lunch guests at nearby tables had already turned their heads at the sound of her sudden outburst, but he didn’t care about them, only her.

“If you’re upset, I’ll put on the brakes immediately. I swear. I will never pursue your daughter without your blessing, no matter how much it might kill me. Just - just hear me out.” His voice wavered slightly, desperate to make her understand.

“This isn’t something I just thought about. I’ve been in love with her since the very first moment you introduced me to her. Since the first time I ever laid eyes on her.”

His pulse thundered in his ears. Was this irreversible? Had he really fucked up this time?

At last, your mom lifted her head, tears still shimmering in her red-rimmed eyes. She looked at him for a long moment, and Luigi braced himself for whatever came next.

"Luigi - don’t." Her voice was soft but firm, a quiet plea laced with something deeper. She paused for just a heartbeat, searching his eyes. "Don’t be ridiculous."

He blinked, completely thrown.

“This is everything I could have ever dreamed of.”

A tender smile graced her lips, unwavering and full of warmth. Then, just as she lifted her gaze, the waiter approached, gracefully balancing their lunch plates. She blinked rapidly, discreetly brushing away a tear. By the time the plates of steaming pasta were placed before them, she had already composed herself. They murmured polite thank-yous, watching as the waiter departed, leaving them in the soft intimacy of the moment.

Luigi, however, remained frozen, his mind still tumbling through the whirlwind of emotions. His pulse thrummed with the weight of it all.

"Luigi, honey" She reached across the table, her fingers finding his with gentle certainty. The warmth of her touch sent a shiver up his spine, grounding him, steadying him. "You have to understand," she continued, her thumb tracing a small, absentminded circle against his skin. "Every ounce of love you have for us, is fully reciprocated. Fully. Without question."

A shaky breath slipped from his lips, a quiet exhale of relief.

"The day you came into our lives, everything changed for us too. And having you here now, still with us, getting to keep you in our lives” Her voice faltered for just a moment before she gathered herself again.

"And now this?" She let out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh, shaking her head as if the enormity of it was too much to contain. "I don’t even have the words, Luigi. It’s more than I ever allowed myself to even dream."

Luigi closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, letting it all wash over him. His mind flickered through the past eighteen months, a chaotic montage of pain and uncertainty playing at double speed. The chaos, the fear, the unrelenting weight of it all - how had it led to this? How had something so broken managed to shape itself into something so beautiful?

When he finally opened his eyes again, they met hers. Soft, full of love, unwavering in their affection.

"I need you to hear this, Luigi," she said, her voice steady but thick with emotion. "I am so incredibly proud of you."

Something inside him clenched, an ache so sharp and sudden it nearly stole his breath. He hadn't realized until this moment just how much he had longed to hear those words.

"The way you handled everything, all of it," she continued, her gaze dropping for a brief moment as she collected herself. "It still amazes me."

A heavy silence settled between them before she finally spoke again, quieter this time. "You know, I never told you at the time, but I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.”

Her grip on his hand tightened, her fingers trembling slightly. "I remember one of those early days, standing outside the courthouse, speaking to the press. And having to utter the word ‘execute’ in the same sentence as your name" Her breath hitched. "It shattered me. That night, when I got home, I was inconsolable."

Luigi met her gaze, and in that instant, they understood each other in a way that words could never truly capture. They had lived through the unimaginable. And somehow, against all odds, they were still here.

When Luigi spoke again, his voice was low, careful.

“You’re the only person in my life who knows everything,” he said, his fingers tightening gently around hers. “And I don’t just mean the arrest, the trial, all of that. You know about everything that happened before. What state I was in, what my life looked like in those months leading up to the arrest. How I felt. You’re the only one I ever told absolutely everything.”

His gaze dropped to the table, his expression distant, lost in the shadows of the past. The weight of those memories pressed down on him, thick and suffocating, like an old wound that still ached when touched.

“I know, honey.” Her voice was warm, soothing. “And I’m so glad you felt safe enough to tell me. I’m grateful you let me know that part of you too.”

Luigi exhaled slowly, lifting his head to meet her eyes again. There was a quiet understanding between them, something unspoken yet deeply felt.

“I think part of why I feel such a deep connection with Liv is because I see those same qualities in her,” he admitted. “The way she understands people, the way she listens without judgment - she got that from you. Both of you have this way of making people feel like they can tell you anything, and somehow, it all feels lighter just by sharing it with you. That’s a rare gift. You do know that, right?”

A slow smile spread across her face, warm and full of love.

“Thank you, Luigi.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You know, it’s kind of funny actually - on the day of my verdict, which should have been the best day of my life, I was so overwhelmed with relief… but there was this one moment, this strange pang of anxiety, because I knew I wouldn’t be seeing Liv regularly anymore. That I wouldn’t just… Have my scheduled meetings with her the way I did in there.”

He laughed, a little sheepish now. “I think that was the first time I realized how down bad for her I really was. Almost wishing I could stay in jail, just so I could keep seeing her.”

Your mom giggled, shaking her head in amusement. But then, just as quickly, her expression softened, turning serious.

“Luigi,” she said, her voice steady, filled with quiet conviction, “you are everything I could ever hope for in a partner for my daughter. For Liv.” She squeezed his hand, as if to make sure he truly heard her.

“You love deeply, you care fiercely, and you are one of the most courageous people I have ever met. You are so rare, Luigi. And I want you to know that the two of you finding each other and falling in love – it’s the best possible happy ending to all of this that I could have ever dreamed of.”

Her words settled over him like a gentle embrace, and for the first time in a long time, Luigi felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to fully believe in.

Peace.

…

You were still stretched out by the pool, the warmth of the late afternoon sun lulling you into a hazy doze, a few more glasses of white wine deep - when you woke up to a familiar sound of voices.

Somewhere in the distance, just beyond the edge of your sun-drenched drowsiness, you heard them. Luigi. Your mom.

They were back.

Your mind snapped to attention, every nerve in your body went on high alert as you focused on the murmur of their conversation, trying to decipher the tone. Their voices were low, indistinct, just a steady rhythm of words you couldn’t quite make out. You couldn’t really tell the vibe. Your pulse quickened.

And then, the voices grew closer.

A moment later, Luigi stepped out onto the patio, the sunlight catching in his dark curls as he turned toward you. His eyes met yours instantly, and - was he smiling? He looked… relaxed?

Your breath caught in your throat as you scanned his expression, your mind racing, trying to read between the lines. He didn’t look upset. If anything, he looked peaceful.

Without a word, he squeezed onto the sunbed beside you, fitting himself close, his body warm against yours. His fingers found yours effortlessly, lacing them together, grounding you in a way that sent a rush of warmth straight through your chest.

From inside, the faint sounds of your mom in the kitchen carried through the open doors - the clinking of glass, the quiet rush of liquid being poured.

You flicked your gaze back to Luigi, heart pounding. He still hadn’t said anything.

“How did it go?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but thick with urgency.

Finally, his familiar wide smile spread across his face. He was practically beaming.

“Perfectly.”

The word, so simple and so certain, sent a wave of relief crashing over you. Your whole body exhaled, tension melting as the reality of it settled in.

With a soft sigh, you let your head fall against his chest, sinking into him as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He felt solid, warm, safe. You could hear his heartbeat beneath your cheek, steady and strong.

Just then, your mother stepped onto the patio, carrying two glasses of pale lemonade. She took one look at the two of you and smiled knowingly.

“Some refreshments?” she asked gently, setting the glasses down on the small side table beside you. There was something warm, almost amused, in her gaze as she watched the way Luigi still held you, as if he had no intention of letting go. He didn’t have to hide his affection for you anymore.

Your heart swelled at the thought.

“It looks like you two have been missing each other,” your mother mused lightly. “I won’t bother you. I think I’ll lie down for a bit before getting ready for dinner with the Ricci’s tonight, okay? Just let me know if you need anything.”

Your mother leaned in, her warm, familiar scent enveloping you as she pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "I love you, darling," she murmured, her voice filled with tenderness.

Then, she hesitated, her gaze shifting toward Luigi. A moment of quiet contemplation passed before she reached out, her hand moving gently toward him. With slow, deliberate care, she ran her fingers over his dark hair, the motion almost like a caress, as if she were memorizing the texture, the presence of him.

There was something so profoundly affectionate in the gesture, so full of quiet acceptance and love, that your heart swelled at the sight.

At first, Luigi seemed taken aback, his eyes flickering with surprise. But then, as if surrendering to the warmth of the moment, his expression softened, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned slightly into her touch.

"And I love you too, Luigi," your mom said, her voice unwavering, her smile serene.

A quiet joy spread across her face as she turned and walked back into the house, leaving behind an air of peaceful finality. You let out a slow breath, your heart still thrumming from the intimate exchange as she was leaving the two of you alone in the golden afternoon light.

Then, turning to Luigi, you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt exactly as it should be.

Chapter Text

The entire afternoon had been an agonizing whirlwind of anticipation, your nerves thrumming with every fleeting touch from Luigi. Now that nothing stood between you anymore, the weight of your desire pressed down with an almost unbearable intensity. The need to be alone with him, to finally surrender to the tension that had been building between you, was all-consuming.

Dinner at the Riccis' had been planned for weeks, something that you had all been looking forward to. But now, after today's turn of events, knowing that you and Luigi were now free to explore each other without restraint, the thought of enduring an entire evening at your neighbors’ house was unthinkable. Not when staying home instead, would mean being alone with him. Not when your entire body ached when imagining what was to come.

That’s why, hours ago, you had begun planting the seed of an excuse. You were leaving hints of dizziness and fatigue, blaming the afternoon sun for your supposed affliction. Perhaps you'd dozed off outside for too long, maybe you got overexposed to the sun and the heat?

Your mom, ever the worrier, had immediately fussed over you, having you lay down on the couch, propping you up with pillows, pressing cool drinks into your hands. You almost felt bad for lying to her - but your greater goal, to get to spend time alone with Luigi, was too important to be hindered by conscience.

"I might not be able to go to the Riccis' tonight," you murmured, deliberately letting your voice waver, as if speaking alone took too much effort.

"Of course not, sweetheart," your mother replied without hesitation, her brows furrowed in concern. "Maybe I should stay home too? We can cancel. I don’t want to leave you alone if you’re not feeling well."

From across the room, Luigi interrupted, his voice deliberately casual. "I can stay with Liv."

He barely lifted his gaze from the book in his hands, feigning nonchalance. "I know how much you’ve been looking forward to catching up with Matteo and Giulia. No sense in everyone missing out just because Liv’s not feeling well – I can stay at home to make sure she’s alright."

A sharp, muffled noise echoed from the kitchen - a poorly concealed laugh. Ben. Of course he was listening. Why was he always everywhere lurking?

Your mother brightened at Luigi’s offer. "Luigi, thank you – that would be great. Is that ok with you sweetie?" She turned to you, oblivious to the riot of anticipation unraveling inside of you.

You nodded, trying to keep your face neutral as heat coiled low in your stomach at the very thought of what was about to happen. You and Luigi, an empty house, and nothing holding you back from each other anymore - in just a few short hours. You felt an unmistakably throb of heat growing between your legs.

Ben strolled into the living room, beer in hand, smirking. "That’s so thoughtful of you, Luigi," he drawled, his voice dripping with barely concealed amusement. "Staying behind to take care of Liv."

Luigi shot him a look, fighting back a grin. They both knew exactly what Ben was implying.

"We sure have a gentleman among us," Ben continued, raising his bottle in mock salute. "Always putting others' needs before his own."

Luigi chuckled, shaking his head. "Yup, that’s me," he said smoothly. "Take notes, Ben."

Your mother, blissfully unaware of the underlying tension crackling between you all, pressed a kiss to your forehead before rising to her feet. "Well, now that’s settled, I need to get dressed. Has anyone seen Marc? Why is he always missing?"

And just like that, the countdown began.

…

"Ben! What’s the fucking hold up?" Celine’s voice rang through the hallway, sharp and impatient as she peered toward the open doorway leading into her and Ben’s wing of the house.

Your parents and Celine stood waiting near the front door, already dressed and ready for dinner at the Riccis’. The only thing delaying their departure was Ben, still nowhere to be seen.

"You’re not getting any prettier by staring at yourself in the mirror. Let’s go."

At last, Ben emerged, still buttoning his shirt with infuriating ease. "Calm down, I’m here," he drawled, unfazed by Celine’s exasperation.

Your mother turned to you with a warm smile, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before heading toward the door. "Let us know if you need anything, sweetheart, we’ll be back in a few hours."

From behind, you sensed movement just before Luigi appeared at your side, his presence impossibly close. Your mother, catching sight of him, gave a small nod in his direction.

"Luigi, just give me a call if Liv’s feeling worse, okay?"

His voice was low, steady, laced with something unspoken. "I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry."

As he spoke, his hand barely, just barely, grazed the small of your back. The touch was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it sent a shiver rippling through you.

Celine and Ben exchanged knowing looks, smirks tugging at their lips. Uncharacteristically, neither of them said a word. They simply followed your parents out, leaving behind a silence so thick it nearly hummed.

The door clicked shut and you turned around. Luigi had already made his way back into the kitchen.

You exhaled, leaning back against the wooden frame of the door for a minute, trying to steady yourself. Your legs felt weak beneath you, your body reacting to the weight of the anticipation. It was almost too much.

When you finally gathered yourself enough to move, you followed him into the kitchen.

He stood with his back to you, lifting a water bottle to his lips. His muscles shifted under the fabric of his t-shirt as he tilted his head back to drink, one arm braced casually against the open fridge door. His stance was relaxed, one hip jutting slightly, his shorts slung low. Your gaze traced the length of him. He was so hot.

"So…" you started, your voice barely above a whisper. You walked over to the kitchen island that was facing him, leaning your back slightly against it.

He turned at the sound of your voice, capping the water bottle with slow, deliberate movements. His eyes locked onto yours, unreadable and dark.

Your breath hitched. How could a movement so simple as capping a water bottle be so unbelievably sexy? And how could he look so calm and composed? Your mind and body were in an absolute uproar, and you were sure he could tell just by looking at you.

He leaned back against the counter across from you, saying nothing, just watching. The silence stretched, charged, a live wire sparking between you. Your pulse roared in your ears.

"Do you want a drink?" you offered, your voice trembling, betraying the storm inside you. "I could grab a bottle of wine? Or there’s beer in the cooler…"

His smile was slow, knowing. He shook his head once.

"No."

Your stomach dropped.

He set the water bottle down with a soft thud, pushing himself off the counter. His gaze never wavered.

"I want to be sober for this."

You stopped breathing. His voice was dark, low. Confident. Warmth flooded through you, settling low in your belly, spreading like wildfire beneath your skin.

Luigi closed the distance between you in a few slow steps. Instinctively, your fingers curled around the cool marble of the countertop, grounding yourself as the heat of his body radiated against yours.

He placed his hands on either side of you, leaning in, caging you between his arms. His breath fanned over your neck, and then - soft, lingering, unbearably slow - his lips pressed against your skin.

A sharp gasp escaped you, your body reacting before thought could catch up. He paused at the sound, lifting his head just enough to look at you, his hazel eyes dark with something unspoken, his lashes brushing against his cheekbones.

"You’re so gorgeous." The words fell from his lips like he couldn’t help them. "I can’t believe you’re mine."

Your chest ached with the weight of it, with the sheer force of how much you wanted him.

Luigi straightened, his hands trailing down to your waist, fingers ghosting over the fabric of your dress. The pale yellow flowy maxi dress you were wearing, tied at the shoulders, was leaving your skin glowing, exposed in the rays of the evening sun. You had prepped your skin with a shimmering body oil, knowing that it made every inch of you impossibly soft to the touch.

He ran his hands over your hips before gripping you suddenly, lifting you onto the counter in one swift motion. Your dress pooled around you, fabric spilling over the marble.

He gently parted your legs and placed himself in between them, fitting himself against you. You gasped as you wrapped your arms around him, his head nestling in at your neck, letting out warm air against your skin in a muffled groan vibrating through you.

When he finally pulled back, he looked at you, his expression unreadable, his lips parted slightly as if caught in a moment of disbelief. You couldn’t help at smile to each other. You giggled - you both shared the feeling of this not being entirely real.

Then his big hands slid up underneath the fabric of your dress, in slow, deliberate motions. As his fingers traced along upwards your thighs, your breath trembled. Higher. Higher. Until - he froze.

His gaze snapped to yours, something wild flashing across his face. You looked back at him with an innocent smile.

He just realized you were not wearing any underwear.

His head fell back, a guttural groan escaping him, somewhere between a laugh and sheer agony.

You giggled softly, watching him unravel.

"You have absolutely no idea what you’re doing to me." His voice was hoarse, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. "Good god."

His forehead dropped against your chest for a moment, as if collecting himself, before he lifted his head, something darker, hungrier, flashing in his gaze. "Liv, you’re driving me crazy. Fuck."

Then he kissed you. Not soft this time. Not tentative.

His lips crashed into yours, his hand sliding to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, deeper. His other hand pressed against your hip, his thumb teasingly close to where you ached for him most.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

A moan escaped you as he tugged your hair, tilting your head back, exposing your throat to him. He took full advantage, kissing and teasing you with an urgency that sent your pulse into a frenzy.

And then his hands moved again, gripping your ass, pulling you forward against him. The friction sent a shockwave through your body, your bare skin flush against him.

Then he suddenly changed his position, letting one arm free to travel down between your legs. His fingers traveled lower, teasing, barely touching. Anticipation coiled tight in your stomach, your body trembling.

And then, finally, his fingertips brushed against your most sensitive spot, featherlight, barely there. You gasped - loud, involuntary.

He pulled back slightly, satisfaction glinting in his eyes.

"Who made you this wet?" His voice was dark, teasing.

Your breath shuddered. "Oh, you know… just some Italian guy."

Luigi chuckled low. "Yeah? He must know what he’s doing."

Your pulse was racing, and you could feel it throbbing between your legs.

"Yeah." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "He does."

His grin was slow, devilish.

"Let me hear that pretty little gasp again."

He leaned into you again, kissing you while he slowly let his hand travel back in between your legs. Finally, finally, he was touching you - properly this time.

He let his fingers softly circle around your clit, your wetness soaking his fingers making the movement warm and delicate. You let out nothing short of a scream at the sensation – the feeling overwhelming, like lightning crackling through your veins.

Finally having his hands on you like this was a sensation greater that you could have ever imagined.

“Liv, I’m… I don’t know what to do. You’re driving me insane” He whispered while intensifying the pressure and letting two fingers slip into you and you gasp loudly. “You feel so fucking amazing on my fingers. I can’t believe how wet you are”.

You clung to him, one hand gripping the counter for stability, the other tangled in the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

“Luigi - oh my fucking god” you panted while pressing your hips against his hand. His fingers move deeper inside you now, quickly reaching that spot that have your legs to weak. The warmth spread unmistakenly in your lower belly, building rapidly.

“This is crazy but I’m actually about to - ” you pant heavily, not being able to finish the sentence. How the fuck could you be so close so fast?

“Not yet sweetie” Luigi smirked, casually removing his fingers while you let out a gasp at the sensation.

“Look at me baby” he murmurs slowly, voice low and dark. He grabs your hips again and pull you closer into him. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. You know that right? I need you to know that.” His words were reverent, as if speaking them aloud would make the moment slip away.

Your heart stuttered, the weight of it nearly too much. The depth in his eyes, the intensity of his voice - it was almost unbearable. You almost feel like crying.

With a slow, purposeful motion, he reached for the hem of your dress, lifting it over your head in one smooth motion. The fabric whispered against your skin before pooling onto the floor, leaving you fully naked before him on the countertop.

He pauses for a moment, exhaled sharply, his eyes drinking in every inch of you, as if committing the sight to memory. You feel surprisingly confident under his gaze, a new wave of warmth spreading all over you.

His eyes lands on your naked breasts, and he lets out a heavy breath before he grabs them both with his big hands, placing kisses all over them. Then he let his tongue trail your skin in small circular movements – before placing his lips around you left nipple, sucking it gently.

You almost scream at the overwhelming sensation and press your naked body against his hard abs through the fabric of his shirt just to gain some friction.

Your head fall back, each touch sending waves of warmth cascading through you. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, desperate to anchor yourself, to keep from unraveling entirely beneath his touch.

There is something about Luigi, still being fully clothed while you’re all naked in front of him, that unexpectedly turns you on like nothing before.

“Your tits… oh my fucking god.” He murmurs with his lips still pressed against your breast. “There is not a part of you that’s not perfect baby girl”.

He finally and reluctantly let go of your boob and moves his hands up to your face, holding it while planting a kiss on your slightly parted lips, letting his tongue brush against your bottom lip.

Luigi pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression dark with intent.

“Is it ok if I kiss you somewhere else?” he finally says, voice deep. “I haven’t been able to stop imagining what you taste like.”

Your unable to do anything else than just nod in response, and his slow, knowing smile before tracing his way down your breast and stomach, placing small, warm kisses all over your skin, send another shiver through you.

When reaching your hips, he stands up to gently spread your legs to each side of him. He adjusts himself in between them and let out a low sigh at the sight of your slick insides.

You steady yourself with one arm, while letting one hand grab his dark soft curls as he finally moves his head in between your legs and let his tongue slowly sweep across your clit, circling it carefully before adding pressure and sucking on it rhythmically.

Of course he’s good at this too. Of course he fucking is.

Your whole body goes limb, and you have a hard time holding yourself up on your arm. You lay back on the cool marble, arching your back while you moan loudly at Luigi’s tongue working your clit effortlessly.

You were undone. Completely, irrevocably his.

The movements are strong and rhythmic, just the perfect amount of friction and softness that have you fall apart completely as he groans against you, adding a warm, vibrating sensation.

You suddenly feel him moving lower and without warning he presses his tongue fully into your entrance and you let out a scream.

“Luigi! Fuck!” You prop yourself up again on your arms, looking down to meet his eyes, glimmering like gold in the warm evening light that’s radiates into the kitchen through the open terrace doors.

You see him smirking with satisfaction, a smile spreading across his face as his lips are still pressed against you. He then moves his tongue back to your clit and swiftly insert two long fingers into you.

This is it - you can’t hold it anymore.

“Luigi, it’s too much, it’s too good” you pant

He lifts his head while still working his fingers inside of you. “I got you baby, I got you” he murmurs. He dips his head back down, working his lips, tongue and fingers together in a rhythm that has you fully unraveled. You feel yourself close to the edge.

“Oh my god, baby - I’m gonna…” You scream his name over and over as he continues his movements while your legs spasm, draped over his shoulders. He holds you steady as you come in his mouth - you can feel yourself squeeze his fingers with each pulsing wave of your orgasm.

You’ve never ever felt something this intense before -  the orgasm approaches in waves, with an intensity that you didn’t know was possible. Unaware if you’re hurting Luigi or not, your grip on his curls is tightening as you fall back against the marble counter panting frantically.

When the waves of pleasure subdues, and you’re slowly coming back to reality, you’re unable to do anything else then murmur into the ceiling above you. “That… was… absolutely… crazy… How the fuck are you so good at that?”

Luigi chuckles, still placed between your legs, clearly pleased with himself. As he should be. He slowly plants small, soft kisses on the insides of your sensitive thighs. You sigh heavily.

He wipes his chin with the back of his hand as he stands up and let his hands run hungrily, possessively, over your naked body - fully exposed in front of him. “You did so good baby, you were absolutely perfect. My pretty girl.”

Your skin prickle at his words and his touch, and he leans into you again, kissing you slowly.

Then, without warning, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms. A surprised gasp leaves your lips, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he holds you close, his grip firm and steady beneath you while he carries you out of the kitchen, towards the stairs.

Your eyes meet his, and the teasing smile he gives you send a fresh wave of warmth spiraling through you.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he murmured, his voice dark and low. “I’m not done with you yet my beautiful girl.”

Chapter Text

Luigi carried you up the stairs effortlessly, his strong arms securing you against him as he pressed slow, reverent kisses along the curve of your neck. Each touch of his lips sent shivers cascading down your spine, leaving you breathless.

His strides were purposeful, steady, as he made his way to his room. With a firm motion, he nudged the door open, stepping inside before kicking it shut behind him.

The fading sunlight spilled through the wide glass doors pushed open leading to his balcony, casting long, soft golden rays across the room. The sheer curtains billowed in the soft breeze, filling the room with the intoxicating scent of warm summer evening.

The bed was already stripped of its cover, the crisp white sheets beneath inviting and untouched. With deliberate tenderness, Luigi lowered you onto the mattress, your body sinking into the plush pillows as he hovered above you. You could see how the warm golden light flooding the room reflected on the skin of his arms and his dark curls, and you paused for a second just to reflect on the sheer beauty of it all. Of him. Of the two of you together like this.

The contrast between the cool softness of the bed and his hard, muscular body on top of you, sent a tremor of excitement through you. His weight pressed you down, firm yet intoxicating, his breath coming in short, eager moans as he molded against you. Instinct took over and you tightened your legs around his waist, arching to meet him, desperate for friction, for relief.

The anticipation burned through you, setting every nerve alight. You needed him naked. Now.

A needy gasp left your lips as you ground your hips against him, your hands slipping beneath his shirt. Your fingers trailed over his abdomen, feeling the taut ridges of his muscles flex beneath your touch. His skin was impossibly warm, silken over the unyielding strength beneath, a contrast that made your breath stutter.

A desperate sound escaped you, something between a whimper and a sob, as you tugged at his shirt, your lips parting beneath his. You were desperate to get closer to him. To finally feel all of him.

“I know, baby,” he murmured into your mouth, voice husky with restrain. “I know.”

Slowly, Luigi loosened his grip on you, his hands trailing away with lingering warmth as he straightened up, settling on his knees between your legs. His dark eyes glowed with something teasing, his lips curling into a brief, knowing grin before his fingers caught the hem of his shirt. With one fluid motion, he pulled it over his head, reveling the sculpted muscles of his bare torso.

For a moment, you forgot to breathe.

You had seen him like this before, but it never failed to leave you undone. Every time felt like the first - like a revelation, like a new wave of heat crashing through you. He was just so unbelievable hot.

His body was all hard lines and smooth skin, a perfect blend of strength and beauty that made your pulse stutter. He was devastating - you felt like you could almost orgasm just by seeing him like this.

No man had ever made you feel like this - you were almost scared of the effect he had on you.

A shaky breath left your lips. “Okay, that’s nice,” you murmured, feigning indifference despite the fire burning inside you. You tilted your head, teasing, “But I’ve seen that before. Now show me something new.”

Luigi’s grin widened. “Patience, sweetheart.”

Then he was on you again, pressing down, his bare chest molding to yours, skin to skin. The heat of him was intoxicating, searing, his muscles flexing against the soft curves of your body. Your breasts were crushed against the firm plane of his chest, your breath catching at the electric contact. And then - his hips.

He rolled them into you, slow, deliberate, letting you feel every inch of his hardness against your core. A sharp gasp tore from your lips, your body arching instinctively, seeking more, needing more.

Your control slipped away, lost to the overwhelming sensation of him. Every inhale was shallow, every exhale shaky, your breath coming in frantic, uneven bursts.

Luigi lifted his head, his gaze locking onto yours. Those hazel eyes - deep, burning. As the golden light flickering in their depths, you felt as you could drown in them.

“Breathe for me,” he whispered, his voice smooth, commanding.

You obeyed, dragging in a slow breath, trying to steady yourself beneath him. His smirk was pure satisfaction as he nodded in approval.

“That’s my girl.”

When you had finally gathered your composure, Luigi rose once more, this time standing at the foot of the bed. Your breath hitched in anticipation, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin. You knew what was coming. Propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better look, your eyes locked on his every movement.

Finally, finally, you were going to see every inch of him.

His fingers toyed lazily with the waistband of his shorts, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. The deliberate slowness, the teasing glint in his eyes - it was enough to drive you insane.

“Oh, come on,” you giggled, tilting your head. “ Now you’re just being a tease”.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, deep and teasing. And then - he hooked his thumbs under the waistband and slid his shorts down, revealing toned thighs and the sharp V-cut. But his Calvin Klein briefs remained, still hiding what you so desperately craved.

You groaned in exaggerated frustration, throwing your head back. “You really do love a good edging, huh?”

His grin widened, amused, but there was something else in his expression too, something dark, something wanting. And then, finally, he hooked his fingers under the elastic of his briefs and pushed them down.

Your breath hitched.

A quiet, involuntary gasp slipped from your lips as you took him in. He was absolutely huge.

You had suspected - catching glimpses of the outline of his dick soft beneath his swim trunks by the pool, with your imagination running wild. But seeing him like this, hard - it was almost intimidating. You had never been with anyone this size before.

The words left your mouth before you could stop them, breathless and dazed. “Your dick is gorgeous.”

The second it was out, you winced, half-convinced it sounded ridiculous. But then you saw his smirk. Slow, satisfied. A flicker of heat passed through his gaze, and you knew. You had said exactly the right thing.

His voice dropped to a low whisper, as he leaned back over you.

“I’m gonna take it easy, I promise.”

Luigi braced himself on one arm beside you, his weight warm and grounding, while his other hand explored the curves of your body with deliberate, aching slowness.

His fingers traced the dip of your waist, the swell of your hips, before traveling upward to cup your breast. A deep, throaty growl rumbled from his chest his mouth still moving against yours, hungry and unrelenting.

And then - you felt it.

The very tip of him, gliding between your legs, slow, teasing, sending a fresh pulse of heat surging through you. The need was unbearable, tightening in your core, making you throb with desperate anticipation. Every nerve in your body was screaming for him.

Then, he pulled back just slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were heavy-lidded, dark with desire, his voice low and raspy when he finally spoke.

“Do you want us to use a condom?”

Your breath hitched. There was no hesitation.

You shook your head. “No. I’m on the pill.”

For a brief second, something flickered across his face - satisfaction, hunger, maybe even something deeper. Then, slowly, that smirk you loved so much curved at his lips.

“Okay, good,” he murmured, his voice thick. His fingers tightened ever so slightly on your breast, sending another wave of heat through you.

“I don’t want to get you pregnant just yet.”

Your body locked up.

That kind of comment in bed with any of your exes? Instant mood killer. With Luigi? Unbelievably hot.

A shiver ran through you, your heart hammering at the sheer audacity of it. You made a mental note of properly freaking out about that comment later, alone in the privacy of your own thoughts.

But right now? All you could do was crash your lips into his, pulling him impossibly closer, needing to feel him everywhere.

Luigi shifted slightly, adjusting his position, lining himself up with your entrance. Your breath hitched, chest rising and falling in short, uneven bursts. The anticipation was dizzying, unbearable.

“I’m gonna go slow, okay?” he murmured, his voice husky with restraint. “Just tell me if you want me to stop.”

You nodded, unable to form words, barely even capable of thought. Every inch of your body was attuned to him, to this moment, to what was about to happen.

He exhaled a slow, measured breath, steadying himself. And then - then he finally pushed himself into you.

A guttural, wrecked groan tore from his throat the moment he entered you, and the sound alone had you unraveling. It was raw, feral, the most intoxicating thing you’d ever heard, sending a sharp bolt of heat straight to your core.

Your eyes fluttered shut, rolling back as he pressed deeper, stretching you in a way you had never experienced before. Every inch of him was overwhelming, burning, blissful.

“Fuck” His voice was strained, almost desperate. “You feel…” A shaky inhale. “You feel fucking amazing.”

All you could do was gasp in response, clinging to him, trying to adjust, trying to take him all.

“You’re taking my dick so well,” he rasped, his voice thick with admiration and desire. “You look so fucking gorgeous like this.”

He shifted his hips slightly, adjusting his angle and the movement had you choking on a breath.

“Just a few more inches, okay? Is all of this alright?”

A few more inches?

Your head spun. He already felt impossibly deep, filling you to the point of delirium. But you couldn’t do anything except nod, your body craving every inch of him.

His lips crashed into yours, swallowing your gasps, pressing a deep kiss against your parted mouth.

Then he lifted his head, locking eyes with you as he pressed forward, pushing the rest of himself inside, finally burying himself fully within you.

The sensation was overwhelming. Your body clenched around him, struggling to adjust to his sheer size, pleasure and pressure blurring into something dizzying, consuming. Sensing that you needed a moment, he stilled, holding himself inside you, his breathing ragged as he fought for control.

A strangled sound escaped you, a mix between a whimper and a moan, pleasure bordering on too much.

His brows furrowed, concern flashing across his face. “Am I hurting you?” His voice was softer now, tinged with hesitation. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head fiercely, hands tightening around his shoulders.

“No,” you gasped, barely able to speak. “No. Don’t stop.”

The sheer depth of your connection struck you all at once - physically, mentally, spiritually. It was an overwhelming force that left you breathless. It was as if every part of you had fused with him, the boundaries between your bodies blurred into something beyond the physical.

He filled you completely, stretching you in a way that sent a shuddering wave of sensation through your entire being. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before - raw, electric, utterly consuming.

Heat unfurled within you, spreading like wildfire, searing through your veins with dizzying intensity.

You barely had time to register it, let alone warn Luigi, before you suddenly felt an orgasm crash over you - a tidal wave of pleasure so sudden and overpowering that it stole the breath from your lungs.

Your body tightened, trembled, then shattered apart in the most intense release you’d ever known. A scream tore from your lips as your head fell back against the pillow, your entire body trembling beneath the force of it.

What the fuck just happened?

Your body was still trembling, the aftershocks rolling through you in waves, leaving you breathless, dazed. Had you really just come - just from the sheer feeling of him inside you?

Luigi lifted his head, his lips curling into a slow, satisfied grin, equal parts disbelief and smug pride. His hazel eyes burned into yours, dark with amusement and something dangerously addictive.

“Sweetheart…” His voice was thick, teasing. “Did you just come?”

You could barely think, let alone form a coherent sentence. Your chest heaved as you fought to catch your breath, your voice escaping in a breathless murmur.

“Fuck… that has never happened before.”

His smirk deepened, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. He brushed his lips against your cheek, then your jaw, his breath warm against your flushed skin.

“I’m obsessed with you, you know that?”

A soft giggle slipped from your lips, your face heating under the intensity of his gaze. You locked eyes with him, heart pounding, completely undone by the way he was looking at you.

A grin spread across his face.

“Now,” he murmured, voice dripping with cockiness. “Let’s get you screaming like that again.”

Chapter Text

With a single fluid motion, Luigi pulled you up from your laying on your back, pressing your trembling body against his as you settled into his lap. He was still rock hard deep inside you, his arousal unyielding, and the sudden shift made you gasp.

Your thighs quivered as you straddled him, knees sinking into the bed on either side of his hips to steady yourself. The aftershocks of the intense orgasm still rippled through your limbs, as your body molded against his.

A deep, guttural moan rumbled from his chest as your weight pressed him even further inside you. His grip tightened on your waist, holding you in place.

“You feel so fucking perfect on top of me” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “So fucking tight.”

His strong hands secured you against him, fingers digging into your ass, as if afraid you might slip away. In response, you grabbed his face, fingers tangling in his thick, dark curls.

You tilted his head back slightly, just enough so you could take a good look at him - his face, flushed with pleasure, his lips swollen and glistening from kissing you. They were parted just enough to expose the hint of his ragged breathing, and they pouted in that precious, irresistible way that made your stomach tighten with longing.

“Luigi…” you whimpered, your voice barely more than a breath. “This is the most intense thing I’ve ever felt in my life. I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

A slow, cocky smile spread across his lips, laced with satisfaction.

“You don’t have to do a thing, baby girl,” he murmured. “Just let me take care of you, alright?”

Fuck. That confidence. That steady, unshakable certainty - one of the first things that had caught your attention the moment you met him and had taken hold of you from the start. It wasn’t arrogance. It wasn’t some rehearsed act, a performance put on to impress.

It was real and it was such a turn on.  

He could have told you anything at this point and you would’ve obeyed. No hesitation. No second thoughts.

You’ve had good sex before in your life – hell, you could even admit you’d had great sex at times. But you were just starting to realize what made this so different.

This was the first time you had ever had sex with a man.

The others? They had been boys, dudes, fucking bros – who thought dominance was about posturing, about playing a role.

Luigi didn’t just take control because he thought it would turn you on. He took control because he actually knew what the fuck he was doing.

Sex with him. Sex with him was something else.

His hands guided you, adjusting your position ever so slightly on top of him, still inside of you. He was in the perfect position to let one of his hands cup your breast, his thumb brushing teasing circles around your hardened nipple.

Suddenly he dipped his head forward. His warm mouth closed around your nipple, his tongue swirling, tasting, teasing. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, sharp and overwhelming, pooling between your legs where your walls clenched around him involuntarily, drawing a deep, throaty groan from his lips as he sucked gently, worshipping every inch of you.

The way he moved himself inside of you, the slow, deliberate roll of his hips as he drove himself deeper from beneath you, stole the breath from your lungs.

Every thrust sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body, igniting nerve endings you hadn’t even known existed. He reached places deep inside you that had never been touched this way before, setting off a chain reaction of sensation that coiled tight in your core, building with every deliberate movement from him.

Instinctively, you moved with him, your hips rising and falling to match his rhythm, the connection between your bodies growing more intense with each perfectly synchronized motion. The sensation was nothing short of intoxicating - pure, unfiltered and it made your skin flush and your pulse race.

The pressure inside you was mounting, an unbearable, exquisite tension gathering in places you had never felt so deeply before, not with anyone else. Every stroke from him sent you spiraling further, edging you closer to something overwhelming, something inevitable.

His mouth left your breast, his lips tracing a slow path along your collarbone, further up your neck, until he let his warm lips meet yours again. He kissed you with the same rhythm of his hips - deep, deliberate, consuming.

Your tongues met and moved in rhythm as your bodies melted together. The connection between you was seamless, electric. You could no longer tell where you ended and where he began.

His hands trailed down the curve of your back, slow and deliberate, fingertips tracing the dips and lines of your body before reaching your ass. He gripped it firmly, kneading with rhythmic, possessive strokes.

“Your ass is fucking perfect,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “Turn around and let me see it.”

A shiver ran through you at the sudden shift in his tone, at the raw command in his words.

Before you could fully process it, he pulled out of you and effortlessly turned you around in his lap, his strength both shocking and intoxicating. Now, your back was flush against his chest, legs spread on either side of him.

You obeyed his unspoken direction, bending forward, your stomach pressing against the sheets, your ass lifted and on full display for him.

A low, satisfied sound rumbled from his throat. You could feel his approval, the heat of his gaze roaming over every inch of you, drinking you in like this was exactly how he had imagined you - how he had always wanted you.

Shifting slightly, he adjusted his position between your legs, his hands finding your waist and pulling you back against him, guiding you effortlessly into his lap once more. Your legs wrapped behind him instinctively, and as your body adjusted to the new position, a sharp inhale left your lips. The sensation was intense, every nerve in your body attuned to him.

One of his hands slid up your spine, a slow, teasing ascent, while the other stayed firm on your hip, keeping you perfectly still. Then, he reached for your neck, wrapping his fingers around it in a playful yet possessive grip. The pressure was light but commanding, just enough to make your breath catch, to make a soft moan spill from your lips.

“Just let me know if anything I do makes you uncomfortable, alright?” he whispered against your skin, his voice rough, laced with restraint.

Then, without warning, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and gave it a slow, deliberate tug.

A deep groan left his lips. “You’re so fucking hot,” he rasped.

The pull sent a rush of pleasure straight to your core, and you moaned, arching slightly into the sensation. He took his time, his free hand exploring your curves, fingers caressing the roundness of your ass, kneading it before his mouth followed, placing open-mouthed, heated kisses against your flushed skin.

He straightened again, releasing your hair, his hands now spreading over your hips, holding you down with an unyielding grip. The way he touched you, the way he handled you - possessive, hungry, yet in complete control - made your entire body burn with anticipation.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve touched myself imagining you just like this,” he murmured, his voice low, dark.

A slow, teasing smile curved your lips. “Really?” you moaned, tilting your head slightly. “And what were you imagining doing to me when you had me like this?”

His answer was immediate.

“This.”

Without another word, he slipped two fingers inside you from behind, the sudden, perfect intrusion making you cry out.

His fingers moved with intoxicating precision, every stroke slow yet deliberate, coaxing pleasure from you in waves. The deep angle from behind sent sharp jolts of electricity through your body, unraveling you with every skilled movement.

“To feel my fingers inside you… to feel how fucking wet you are…” Luigi’s voice was ragged, thick with need. “Fuck. I don’t know how long I’ll last when I finally have my dick inside you.”

A desperate moan tore from your lips, your body arching instinctively beneath him, aching for more, needing him.

“Please” your voice was breathless, pleading. “I need your big dick inside of me again.”

That was all he needed to hear. A groan ripped from his chest, deep and raw, as if your words had just unraveled the last threads of his restraint. His fingers slipped out of you, slick and glistening, and he let out a low, dark chuckle.

“Fuck… you’re making me lose my goddamn mind, you know that right?” he murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and hunger.

His hands gripped your hips, firm and steady, as he adjusted your position in his lap. And then, without warning, he thrust into you with his full length, filling you in one deep, unrelenting motion.

You cried out, a sharp, breathless sound tearing from your throat. The way he stretched you, the depth of him in this position - it was overwhelming, almost too much. It felt impossibly deep, as if he was reaching into the very core of you. Every inch of him was thick, hard, pressing against places you didn’t even know could feel pleasure like this.

Luigi felt it too. His breath was ragged, his moans broken as he groaned your name over and over. His pace was relentless, each thrust dragging you closer to the edge, every stroke lighting up your nerves like fire.

Your moans became cries, your cries became screams. Your entire body was wrecked beneath him, consumed by the pleasure, by the intensity, by him.

And then, suddenly, he slowed. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear, his voice a hushed command.

“I want you to turn around,” he murmured, his tone dark, edged with something possessive. “I want to see your pretty face when I come.”

You nodded, though your head was spinning, your body trembling from the sheer pleasure surging through you.

In one effortless motion, he flipped you onto your back, his strength sending a fresh wave of arousal through you. He hovered over you for just a moment, just long enough to take in the sight of you, flushed, panting, utterly wrecked beneath him, before pushing into you again.

You gasped, your back arching at the overwhelming sensation. He filled you completely, stretching you in a way that made your mind go blank, made your body surrender entirely to his. The pleasure was dizzying, consuming, too much and not enough all at once.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the sheer intensity of it all, but suddenly, his hand was on your face, his fingers gripping your jaw with firm possession.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, his voice low, demanding. “The whole time.”

You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze - those burning, hazel eyes darkened with lust, watching you, devouring you.

“If you look away, I’ll stop.”

Your breath hitched, your body tensing beneath him. And then he moved again - deep, slow, deliberate.

And with your eyes locked on his, the pleasure only intensified.

Every stroke, every deep thrust – the way he moved inside of you. The rest of the world melted away, leaving nothing but the heat between your bodies and the intensity of his dark gaze locked onto yours. Your breaths against each other, ragged and desperate, his exhalations warm against your lips, sent shivers down your spine.

"Luigi, baby…" you gasped, your voice trembling. "I can't hold it much longer."

A low, guttural sound escaped him, half plea, half command.

"Let me see you come again. Please - one more time for me."

It was all you needed to hear. His words unraveled you, sent you spiraling. Pleasure ignited deep within, spreading in waves as your third orgasm had your body clenched around him, pulsing, quivering. A cry tore from your lips, raw and unrestrained, your head falling back as you surrendered to the sensation completely.

Still caught in the aftershocks, you felt Luigi's rhythm falter, his control slipping. His breath turned ragged, urgent.

"Where do you want me to…" he panted, voice tight with restraint.

"Inside," you begged, fingers digging into his back. "Please. Please."

With your permission and a low, broken moan, he drove himself impossibly deep, his body shuddering as he came, warmth spilling into you. He trembled above you, his weight pressing against you as he released.

Neither of you moved. You held onto each other, bodies shaking, chests rising and falling in sync as the waves of pleasure ebbed slowly, leaving behind nothing but a deep, intoxicating satisfaction.

He exhaled heavily and let his full weight settle over you, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. The heat of his breath against your skin sent a pleasant shiver through you, your heart swelling at the feel of him like this - bare, vulnerable, completely yours.

He was still inside you, still warm, and you wished you could keep him there forever.

But eventually, he stirred. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss against your collarbone before pulling out, making you whimper at the loss.

He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow, his fingers tracing gentle patterns over your flushed cheek. Then, placing a soft warm kiss on your lips, he murmured, "Let’s get you cleaned up."

Reluctantly, he slipped out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom, returning moments later with a warm, wet towel. As he kneeled beside you, dabbing at the mess between your thighs, a sudden wave of shyness washed over you. You blushed under his touch, as if he hadn't just been thrusting inside you, as if you hadn't just screamed his name.

Noticing the sudden shift in you, he chuckled softly and pressed featherlight reassuring kisses across your face. Your forehead, your nose, your cheeks - before lowering the towel once more, wiping you with the utmost care. His movements were slow, reverent, filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

He set the towel aside on the small table next to the bed before shifting his weight, rolling back on top of you with effortless ease. His body pressed warmly against yours as he nestled himself between your legs, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle but possessive embrace.

You gazed up at him, your lips curving into a soft smile. He mirrored it, though something flickered in his dark eyes - could you sense a bit of shyness in him as well? The thought sent a warmth spreading through your chest.

"Well..." he began, a grin tugging at his lips. “That was one way to come out of a two-year celibacy”.

You blinked up at him, eyes widening in surprise.

"Two years?" you echoed, propping yourself up on one elbow. You hadn’t even realized that this performance by Luigi was actually him out of practice.

Luigi chuckled, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your lips.

"Yeah, two years... if not more," he admitted, his voice warm with amusement.

You stared at him, processing.

"No action in jail, obviously - which, honestly, I should probably be thankful for," he added with a smirk.

A laugh escaped you, light and breathless, as you shook your head.

"And before that?" you prompted, tracing absentminded circles against his bare shoulder.

He exhaled, his fingers brushing lazily along your waist. "Before that... I wasn’t exactly in the right headspace. It must’ve been at least six months since I’d been with anyone before getting arrested."

Something in his tone made your chest tighten. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, lips grazing the edge of his jaw.

"Well," you murmured, voice playful but laced with genuine curiosity, "I don’t even know if I want to know how you’re still so fucking good at that - even after a two-year hiatus."

Luigi leaned back slightly, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief before he flashed you one of his signature, impossibly bright smiles.

"I guess," he said, voice dripping with self-satisfaction, "it’s just a God-given talent."

"Oh, shut up," you murmured with a breathy laugh, your voice tinged with affection.

Luigi’s gaze drifted toward the open balcony doors, a boyish smile playing on his lips.

Outside, the sun was beginning its slow descent, casting the sky in breathtaking strokes of pink and orange. The fading light poured into the room in golden waves, wrapping everything in a warm, intimate glow.

“Look at that sky,” he murmured, his voice soft with admiration. Then, turning his eyes back to yours, he added, “Want to sit outside for a while? Watch the sunset with me?”

You nodded, and he shifted, lifting himself off you with a lingering touch. He gathered the bed sheet around your body before grabbing another from the edge of the bed to wrap around himself. Taking your hand, he guided you up, steadying you as you stepped onto the cool floor before leading you out onto the balcony.

The air was still warm, tinged with the scent of salt and carrying the distant hum of the evening settling in. You stretched out on one of the sun loungers near the doors, the view before you breathtaking - the water below shimmering beneath the last rays of sunlight, the rolling green hills darkening at the edges as dusk approached.

Luigi moved to the small table nearby, striking a match to light the scattered tea lights, their soft glow flickering to life in the deepening twilight. Then he returned to you, slipping beneath the sheet, his body pressing close as he nestled beside you.

He adjusted your sheets so that they draped over you both, cocooning underneath together. Your bare skin met his, and the heat of his body was seeping into yours as you tangled your legs between his, pressing against him in a way that filled you with tenderness.

In the quiet serenity of the evening, with the sky painted in fire and gold, you simply breathed - wrapped in him and the moment. This was nothing short of perfection.

Suddenly Luigi cleared his throat.

“Liv… I need to tell you something.”

His voice was steady, but as he shifted onto his side to face you, you caught something flickering in his expression – did he look nervous?

You tilted your head, watching him closely. “Okay… what is it?” you encouraged, though the anticipation in your chest tightened.

“Okay… I’m just gonna say it” he murmured. He was nervous.

He exhaled sharply, like he was bracing himself. “This might be too soon, or whatever - but I don’t care.” His eyes locked onto yours, dark and serious now, no trace of his usual teasing.

“I love you”.

Your breath caught. The world around you stilled.

“And I have loved you for quite some time,” he admitted, his voice softer now, but no less certain.

The rush of emotion inside you was overwhelming - too much to hold in, too much to express with words. So, before you could even think, you surged forward, capturing his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his in a kiss so deep, so urgent, it left you both breathless.

“I love you too, Luigi,” you murmured against his lips, your voice thick with emotion. “I love you so, so much”.

You felt him smile against your mouth, and then suddenly, you were both laughing - soft, giddy laughter spilling into each other’s kisses. Laughter of relief, of joy, of something that had been waiting to be spoken aloud for far too long.

“So…” you teased, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “Does this mean you’re my boyfriend now or what?”

His grin widened, but his answer was immediate, unwavering.

“In my mind, we’re already married,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy.

You had no choice but to kiss him again.

When he pulled back, his gaze searched yours, something raw and unguarded flickering in the depths of his dark eyes.

"You've been healing pieces of me since the second you entered my life”, he murmured.

Your heart fluttered, an ache deep in your chest. Despite the strength in his frame, the power in his presence - he suddenly seemed so small, so vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

"I want everything with you, Liv," he continued, his voice steady, unwavering. "I want a life. A home. I want happiness. I want babies."

Your breath caught, your pulse stuttering at the sheer weight of his words.

But his expression didn’t falter - his gaze held yours with complete certainty, no hesitation, no fear.

"I want you as my best friend," he said, his fingers tightening around yours. "I want all of you. Forever."

Emotion swelled inside you, overflowing with tenderness for this perfect man. Someone who put words into actions and was deeply dedicated and connected to everyone and everything around him.

"There is not a thing in this world I wouldn’t give to you," you whispered.

The tension in his shoulders eased, his face softening with something close to relief.

A deep, instinctual need filled you – a need in your soul to shield him from anything that could ever cause him pain.

He had carried the weight of the world on his back for far too long, always the protector, always the one making sure everyone else was safe – you knew he needed desperately to be taken care of, even if he would never ask for it.

There was not a thing in this world he didn’t deserve.

You lifted a hand and gently caressed his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed at the touch, and for a moment, he looked like a little boy - unguarded, peaceful, trusting.

"Just let me take care of you, okay?" you murmured, your thumb tracing slow circles along his cheekbone. "Will you let me do that?"

His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t open his eyes. Instead, he just nodded slowly, like he was finally allowing himself to accept something he hadn’t realized he needed.

Then, suddenly, the quiet was broken by voices and laughter drifting up from the patio below. The familiar sound of Ben’s deep rumbling mixed with your mother’s light, wine-fueled laughter. Your family had returned from dinner, and apparently, they’ve had a good time.

You sighed dramatically, grinning. "Well, so much for peace and quiet."

Luigi smirked, his teasing gaze flicking back to yours. "To be fair, I think we made good use of our alone time."

Heat pooled low in your belly at the memory of the past few hours, your skin tingling as flashbacks played in your mind.

He arched a brow. "Do you want to go downstairs for a bit?"

You didn’t even hesitate.

"Hell no," you said, grinning as you curled yourself closer to him. "Let’s stay up here and hide."

Suddenly your phone buzzed on the table beside you. You reached over, lazily grabbing it, and glanced at the screen. A text from Celine.

Cel: You were REALLY in a hurry, huh?

You sat up slightly, frowning at the message just as another one came through - this time, a picture.

Shit.

It was a photo of your yellow dress, abandoned in a heap on the kitchen floor.

You turned the phone toward Luigi, eyes wide.

“Fuck… totally forgot about that,” he muttered, his gaze flickering between the screen and yours, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.

You quickly typed back.

You: Omg sry

Cel: Don’t worry, Ben found it and put it away it before mom and dad saw it.

Your stomach dropped. Ben found it. Fantastic.

Another message popped up.

Cel: Let me know if there’s anything down here that need to be sanitized lol

Heat flooded your cheeks as you let out an embarrassed giggle. Luigi, who had been reading over your shoulder, choked on a laugh.

You smirked and typed back.

You: Maybe a wipe down of the countertop could be a good idea

Cel: Wow… lmfao

Cel: GOOD FOR YOU THOUGH!!

Groaning, you let your head fall back against the pillow, laughing. “We are never going to hear the end of this.” You turned your head to look at Luigi. “You know that, right?”

He smirked, completely unfazed, and leaned in to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips - the kind that sent a shiver down your spine, still warm with the memory of what had happened in the kitchen earlier.

“Whatever,” he murmured against your lips. “We’ll deal with that tomorrow.” He pulled back, sinking into the pillows like he had not a single care in the world.

You were about to put your phone away when a thought struck you. Sitting up on one elbow, you turned to Luigi, studying his face in the dim candlelight.

“Isn’t it kind of crazy that we don’t have a single picture of us two together?”

He shrugged, unconcerned.

“Well,” you continued, adjusting the sheet around you, “I need proof that this night happened.” You shot him a teasing look. “You know, in case you decide to ghost me after all this love bombing.”

Luigi let out a low chuckle. “Okay, baby, whatever you say.”

He sat up beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, flashing a wide, bright smile as you lifted your phone to snap a photo.

“Smile, baby,” you said, grinning at the screen.

Just as you were about to take the picture, Luigi moved, swift and effortless, grabbing your face and turning it toward him. Before you could react, his mouth was on yours, his tongue slipping between your lips in a deep, playful kiss.

You gasped, then laughed into his mouth, snapping a few blurry, chaotic photos as you melted into him.

Pulling back with a giggle, you turned the phone around to check the pictures. They were messy, imperfect - his hand in your hair and your laughter caught mid-moment.

You looked ridiculously cute together.

Grinning, you flashed Luigi a teasing look. “Perfect for my Instagram hard launch.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he flopped back against the pillows, one arm resting behind his head, the other reaching out to idly trace circles against your thigh.

Without a doubt, this was the happiest and most at peace you had ever seen him. And in that moment, your heart swelled with pure, uncontainable joy.

Chapter Text

When your eyes fluttered open the next morning, the soft glow of morning filtered through the slightly parted curtains, casting golden ribbons across the room. The balcony door had been left open the night before, and a soft breeze graced the skin on your bare arms.

Even before full consciousness settled over you, a flutter of anticipation stirred in your stomach – and when you turned your head to your side, a warmth spread throughout your body.

Luigi lay beside you, his features soft in the gentle morning light, his breathing slow and even. Your heart gave a helpless stutter at the sight of him - so peaceful, so utterly unguarded in sleep. Carefully, you shifted onto your back, tilting your head toward him, taking in every detail of his face, studying it.

One arm lay tucked beneath the pillow, the other draped lazily over your waist, his fingers curled slightly against your skin. The sheet had slipped just below his hips, leaving his upper body exposed - the broad shoulders, the solid strength of his arms, the smooth plane of his stomach - a soft line of dark hair trailed from his navel downward, disappearing beneath the covers. The sight of it had warmth gather low in your belly and your pulse quickening.

He let out a quiet, contented sigh in his sleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that mesmerized you. His lips were slightly parted, full and adorably pouty. You had to physically stop yourself from planting a kiss right on them, not wanting to wake him just yet.

His pretty Bambi lashes, impossibly long, rested against his cheekbones, his dark brows relaxed. His curls, tousled from sleep, framed his face in soft disarray and he was just the most adorable person you had ever seen. Peaceful, serene - and just absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.

A tightness bloomed in your chest, an ache so tender it nearly overwhelmed you. This was it – it felt like the beginning of something undefinable, something bigger than the both of you.

With a soft exhale, you shifted onto your side, pressing your back against him, craving the comfort of his presence.

But before you could settle, his grip on your waist tightened, strong and possessive. A low, unintelligible murmur slipped from his lips before he instinctively pulled you closer, molding your body against his.

His warm, bare chest flush against your back, his strong arm locked around you as if even in sleep, he refused to let go.

“Luigi?” you whispered, tilting your head back slightly.

He didn’t respond. Instead, a quiet snore ghosted against your ear, and you couldn’t help but smile. There was something heartbreakingly endearing about the way he sought you out, even in his unconscious state. The thought made your heart clench.

But it wasn’t just your heart responding to him.

The heat of his body, the weight of his arm draped over you, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your spine - it sent a slow pulse of desire through you. You felt heat pooling between your legs -  your body craving him.

You shifted slightly, pushing further back into him, adjusting your ass just enough to feel his firm morning erection pressed against it.

A quiet groan rumbled from deep in his chest, his breath warm against the nape of your neck as he buried his face in your hair. His grip flexed, fingers splaying over your stomach before trailing upward, grabbing your breast in his large hand.

A sigh slipped from your lips, a smile curling at the edges.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, a deep rasp that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

“Good morning, baby,” you whispered back, a slow smile spreading across your lips. If you could wake up like this every day for the rest of your life, you’d be perfectly content.

His body was warm and solid against yours, a low grunt escaping him as he began to move, pressing his hips into you with an unspoken need. One hand slid over your breast, kneading gently before traveling up to stroke your hair, fingers threading through the strands before sweeping them aside to expose the curve of your neck.

He placed slow, heated kisses along your skin, the sensation sending waves of goosebumps rippling down your arms.

Your body responded instantly, you felt immediately wet, ready for him. He let his hand drift down your waist, fingers tracing the curve of your hip, his erection pressing insistently against your back, and you could feel the full warm length of him against your skin.

Fuck. You needed him so bad.

With a fluid motion, he twisted his arm around your waist, effortlessly turning you to face him. His hands found your hips, pulling you flush against him, your bodies aligning perfectly. A whimper escaped your lips as you wrapped one leg around his waist, desperate to feel him closer, to close the unbearable space between you.

His hard dick pressed insistently between your legs, and you let out a breathy moan, the ache inside you growing unbearable.

“Baby... I want you so bad right now,” you whimpered, voice edged with desperation.

Luigi groaned, his dark eyes dropping to where your bodies ground together, heat radiating between you. “Me too, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice rough with restraint. “But baby, you know we can’t be loud.”

A frustrated moan slipped from your lips. “Well… To be honest, I don’t know if I can be quiet with your big dick inside of me,” you admitted, teasing yet utterly sincere.

His deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Tell me more about my dick,” he growled against your throat.

A slow smile curled on your lips. Oh. He liked this.

“Your fucking enormous dick?” you purred, feeling your pulse quicken at his reaction. “I knew you had that BDE going since the first time I saw you, but I had no idea it was to this extent.”

Luigi groaned, his kisses against your neck turning hungrier, more insistent.

“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to take it,” you continued, voice dropping to a sultry whisper.

His grip on you tightened, his breathing uneven. “You handled it so well, baby,” he murmured, clearly pleased with where the conversation was heading.

“You were so gentle with me, making me take it inch by inch,” you teased, heat pooling low in your belly at the memory. “Feeling you stretch me like that? God, it turned me on like crazy how big you felt inside of me. Just thinking about your dick right now is making me soaked.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, pressing yourself even closer, the evidence of your arousal smearing against his thigh.

A sharp inhale left his lips. “I know baby, I know…” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint. “I can feel it.” A deep sigh rattled through him.

“But I can’t be fucking you with your parents right outside the door.” He nipped at your earlobe, his voice a husky whisper. “You’re a screamer, pretty girl.”

“Fuck me in the shower,” you murmured, your gaze locking onto his, dark with desperate desire.

Luigi let out a low chuckle. “And how exactly does that change anything?” he teased, his lips grazing your neck as he continued grinding against your thigh, his hard dick relentless against your skin.

“Well…” you whispered, your voice dripping with need. “It’s technically another room away. So, my parents aren’t exactly outside the door.” Your fingers trailed down his strong chest and further down his abs, slow and deliberate, making him shudder as your touch neared where he wanted it most.

“And they know I always listen to music while in the shower,” you continued, lips curving into an innocent smile. “We’ll just turn up the volume to drown out the sounds of me screaming your name.”

A low, guttural groan escaped him, and in the next second, his lips crashed onto yours, his tongue delving deep, possessive and hungry.

“This is a bad idea,” he murmured against your lips, breathless.

You pulled back slightly, turning your head toward the speakers.

“Hey Google, play Frank Ocean. Volume fifteen.”

Luigi’s eyes darkened with amusement, a teasing glint playing in them as he smirked.

Without hesitation, he gripped your ass, lifting your already naked body effortlessly from the bed just as the opening notes of Super Rich Kids filled the room.

You let out a breathless giggle, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you toward the bathroom, both of you already lost in the heat of the moment.

Then suddenly, he stopped.

Holding you flush against him in the air, his arm still firm underneath you, he didn’t move - just stood there, his breath warm against your skin. His free hand trailed up the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he pulled you into another hungry kiss, his tongue exploring, tasting, claiming.

Then, without warning, you felt the unmistakable pressure of his dick pushing inside you.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as pleasure surged through your body, your head falling back from the sheer intensity of it. One hand shot up to cover your mouth, desperate to stifle a scream, while your other arm wrapped around his neck in a near headlock, clinging to him as waves of heat crashed over you.

“Guess we didn’t make it to the shower,” Luigi groaned into your ear, his voice thick with amusement and desire.

With effortless strength, he took a few steps forward, before pressing your back up against the bathroom door. A fleeting thought crossed your mind - God, he’s really strong - before he started moving inside of you, and every coherent thought vanished, and your mind went blank.

The first stroke almost took you out. The angle, the depth, the sheer force of him inside you sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Luigi, baby, you can’t…” The words barely left your lips before another thrust stole your breath. “Baby, I’m about to scream,” you panted into his ear, voice trembling with a mix of pleasure and panic. “Get into the bathroom now - you have to turn on the water.”

He let out a deep, satisfied chuckle, clearly reveling in how undone you were beneath him. Then, without hesitation, he pulled you from the door into his arms and carried you into the bathroom, still buried deep inside you.

He maneuvered you into the shower, the glass doors already ajar. With one hand still gripping you firmly, he reached out with the other, turning the water on full blast. Warm droplets cascaded over your tangled bodies, heightening every sensation, making your skin hypersensitive to his touch.

With both hands now back on you, he pressed your back up against the cold tiles, the contrast between heat and chill sending another shiver through you. His grip on you tightened as he spread you wider, his strokes slow, deep, and deliberate, every thrust pushing you further into intoxicating pleasure.

The mix of his strength, the way he stretched you so completely, and the hot water pouring over your entwined bodies was overwhelming, dizzying, exquisite.

“Luigi, Luigi… Oh my god,” you moaned his name over and over, lost in the ecstasy of him.

He carried you across the shower, placing you on top of the built-in ledge where bottles of shampoo and body wash rested - now suddenly repurposed as a makeshift seat to steady you beneath the force of his deep, relentless thrusts.

The shift in angle sent a shockwave of pleasure through you, making your spine arch and your fingers clutch at his damp skin as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Water dripped from his soaked curls, droplets clinging to his lashes before falling onto your face. Even in the haze of desire, you couldn’t help but marvel at him - he was as gorgeous as ever.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry but I won’t last much longer,” he groaned into your mouth, his voice thick with pleasure and desperation. “You feel so fucking good on my dick.”

You couldn’t form words - only moans, breathless and needy, as your nails dug into his back. The tension coiling deep inside you tightened with each of his strokes, sending you spiraling toward the edge.

His rhythm grew erratic, his control slipping, and you knew he was close. The raw, unrestrained way he took you sent a fresh wave of arousal flooding through your body, and you could feel your orgasm approaching.

“Luigi… baby, I’m coming,” you cried out, no longer caring if the water and music drowned your voice out.

He didn’t answer with words, but his deep groan, the way his movements stuttered, told you he was right there with you.

Your bodies trembled together, lost in a shared release, the ecstasy crashing over you like the water pouring from the showerhead. Luigi held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he spilled inside you, your walls clenching rhythmically around him in response.

“Fuck…” he exhaled, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath ragged. “It feels fucking unreal when you come on my dick like that.” A satisfied smile curled his lips as he looked down at you, still buried deep inside. “I wish every morning started like this.”

You met his gaze, a slow, sultry smile spreading across your face. “That can be arranged,” you murmured before pulling him into another kiss. Still feeling his warmth inside you, the intimacy of the moment wrapped around your heart like a tender embrace.

As Luigi finally pulled out, he stepped back into the stream of water, running a hand through his soaked curls, pushing them back. His breath was still uneven, his chest rising and falling as steam curled around him.

“Can I borrow some of your shampoo or is it some expensive shit you don’t want to waste on me?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eye as he winked.

You let out a soft laugh, stepping closer and brushing your lips against his in a lingering kiss. “Baby, nothing is ever wasted on you.”

Turning, you surveyed the row of bottles lined up on the ledge, fingers trailing over them. “Actually… I have this Redken one for curly hair. Have you ever tried it?”

He chuckled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You’re giving me too much credit, sweetie. When would I have ever used something like that? I just grab whatever’s available - I usually just use the same thing all over my body.”

You gasped dramatically, spinning back to face him. “Please tell me you don’t use shower gel in your hair. Actually, don’t tell me - I don’t even want to know.” You shook your head with playful disapproval before squeezing some of the Redken All Soft Mega Curl Shampoo into your palms. “You’re in for an upgrade.”

Reaching up, you began massaging the rich lather into his curls, your fingers working through his thick hair with slow, deliberate movements. Luigi let out a deep sigh, his eyes fluttering shut as a soft, blissful smile spread across his face.

“You look so cute when you’re getting your hair washed,” you cooed, watching as he practically melted beneath your touch. His smile widened, amusement flickering behind his relaxed expression.

“You really do have magic hands,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly to give you better access. “This is better than going to the salon.” He peeked one eye open, his lips curling into a smirk. “Think this’ll make me prettier?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you raked your fingers gently through his curls. “Impossible,” you whispered, meeting his gaze with a smile before leaning in to kiss him again.

Chapter Text

Luigi stepped out of the shower first, steam curling around him as he reached for a towel, wrapping it loosely around his hips. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, and he looked absolutely delicious as his muscles played underneath his damp, tan skin.

From the hook by the shower door, he then plucked a larger, plush towel, shaking it open before turning to you with a soft smile.

"Come in here, baby," he murmured, his voice low and inviting.

You returned his smile, stepping forward into the warmth of his embrace. The towel felt soft against your skin as he drew you in, his arms tightening around you. For a long moment, he simply held you, the heat of his body seeping into yours, holding you close in the quiet intimacy of the moment. A sense of immediate tranquility settled over you.

He pulled back just enough to gaze at you, his hazel eyes tender as they roamed over your face. With gentle hands, he lifted the towel and began drying your face, his motions slow, reverent, as though you were something delicate and precious he was to take care of.

"How is it," he mused in a hushed tone, "that you just keep getting prettier and prettier?"

A soft giggle escaped you, warmth blooming in your chest at his words.

Without warning, he bent slightly, his strong arms wrapping around you before lifting you effortlessly.

A surprised gasp left your lips as he turned, placing you carefully atop the bathroom counter beside the basin. His touch remained tender as he lowered the towel from your shoulders, letting it drape around you while he resumed drying you with quiet devotion.

There was something in the way he handled you, an almost childlike care - that made your entire body relax.  Here, with him, you were safe. Completely, utterly secure – and you felt fully at ease to just sit here and let him do whatever he wanted to you.

Once you were dry, he reached behind you, retrieving your hairbrush. One large, steadying hand cupped your cheek as he worked through your damp locks, his careful strokes smoothing your hair down your back.

His expression was one of pure concentration - lips slightly pouting, dark brows faintly furrowed, and his gaze fixed intently on the movement of the brush. The sight of his sweet, quiet dedication made your heart clench with something deep and achingly tender.

With a contented sigh, you watched as he set the brush aside and reached once more behind you.

His fingers found your jar of OUAI body cream, twisting the lid open before dipping into the smooth balm. Meeting your gaze, he smiled, warmth shining in his hazel eyes as he carefully dotted the cream across your skin. A shiver rippled through you at the contrast of the cool lotion against your warmth.

Still smiling, he began massaging it in, his touch slow and unhurried, as though savoring every inch of you. Every movement was an unspoken vow, a promise of love spoken not in words, but in the softness of his hands, the devotion in his touch.

He started with your arms, his palms gliding smoothly along your skin, ensuring the cream was evenly distributed. His fingers traced down to your hands, tenderly smoothing over each finger, leaving no inch untouched.

Then, carefully, he moved on to your shoulders, letting his warm hands slip down along your back in firm, practiced strokes. You sighed at the sensation, melting beneath his touch, the heat of his palms igniting a delicious shiver down your spine.

When he was done with your back, he paused, pulling away slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an unreadable intensity. A smirk ghosted across his lips as he reached for your neck, his fingers working the cream into the sensitive skin, moving down to your collarbones with agonizing slowness.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his hands dipped lower. His eyes never left yours, their heat unwavering as he let his palms travel over the swell of your breasts. He exhaled a shaky breath, his composure slipping just slightly as he massaged the cream in, each touch sending a ripple of pleasure through you. Your nipples hardened underneath his hands and you let out a soft sigh.

"I never knew moisturizing could be this enjoyable," you whispered, a teasing lilt to your voice.

His lips quirked into a smile, but he didn’t respond, too focused on his task, on you. He took his time, lingering, yet never losing control. Slowly, his hands trailed down, caressing the curve of your waist, the softness of your stomach, his touch reverent, almost worshipful.

Straightening slightly, he reached for the ends of the towel draped around you. With measured patience, he loosened it, peeling it back just enough to grant him better access, his breath hitching as your bare body was unveiled before him. You suddenly felt shy, and you could feel a flush to your cheeks.

He drew in a slow, steadying breath, his jaw flexing as he struggled to keep his composure. His restraint was palpable, his desire evident - yet he held himself back.

Shifting his attention lower, he gently parted your thighs, his hands gliding over the smooth skin as he worked the cream into your legs.

His touch was firm, steady, but the sensation sent wildfire through your veins, a heat coiling low in your belly. Electricity crackled beneath your skin, arousal growing and you could feel the unmistakenly sensation of yourself getting wet again.

This was fucking insane, you literally just finished having sex with him and your body already felt starved of his touch.

It was like you couldn’t get enough of him, every time you had sex with him it just turned you on more, needing him again and again - an insatiable cycle of desire that never seemed to end.

This man. This man was doing things to you that no one had ever done before.

As Luigis fingers lingered at your inner thighs, you knew he felt it too. You could hear it in his uneven breathing, and you could see it - the tension in his jaw, and the way he was visibly growing harder underneath his towel. You were fully exposed to him, legs spread open, and you could feel yourself getting impossible wet below his hungry gaze.

Then, his voice broke through the heady silence, rough and low. "Do you have any idea how fucking turned on I get when I see how wet you are?"

His words sent a tremor through you, your breath catching as his eyes drifted down your legs spread in front of him, before meeting yours once more. His stare burned with unspoken need.

For a moment, he hesitated, as if savoring the anticipation, then, with deliberate slowness, he lowered himself. One knee pressed against the cool tile, his broad shoulders settling between your thighs. His fingers ghosted along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, tracing featherlight patterns that made you squirm.

His breath, warm and teasing, fanned over you, sending a violent shiver through you.

"Luigi, wait…" you gasped, though even you weren’t sure if you truly meant it.

His grip on your thighs tightened, steadying you.

"I just want to see you come one more time before we go downstairs," he murmured, his voice thick with need.

Your body responded before your mind could, a whimper slipping from your lips as his fingers pressed just a little firmer into your skin.

"Baby, please," he coaxed, the rasp in his voice making your core clench. "I can tell you need it too."

You couldn’t argue with that. You did need it.

Your breath hitched as your eyes met his, and with a silent nod, you surrendered.

A slow, wicked smile spread across his lips, his gaze flickering with something dangerously intoxicating before he dipped forward.

The first brush of his warm lips against your clit sent a sharp jolt of pleasure straight through you. His mouth, impossibly soft yet insistent, molded perfectly to you, coaxing, teasing, and then - intensifying.

Still sensitive from the shower sex, the intense sensation made you feel like you could come again within seconds.

Your fingers gripped the edge of the countertop, knuckles whitening as he held you steady, refusing to let you escape the pleasure.

His tongue worked with devastating precision, alternating between slow, deliberate strokes that had your thighs trembling, and rhythmic, urgent suction that had you tipping dangerously close to the edge.

You wouldn’t last long. Not like this.

And he knew it.

Effortlessly, he lifted your legs onto his shoulders, adjusting his position to deepen his movements. The new angle sent a bolt of pleasure straight through you, and a sharp cry tore from your throat.

“Oh my fucking god, Luigi,” you gasped, your head tipping back, your back arching as ecstasy crashed into you.

He let out a low chuckle against your heat, the vibration only adding to the exquisite torture. And then he pushed you further, slipping two fingers into your wetness with devastating precision.

You came undone. Completely.

You grabbed his hair with both of your hands, fingers roaming into the thick curls as you tugged him impossibly closer. He groaned in response, his grip tightening as he matched the rhythm of his fingers with the relentless pressure of his tongue, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from your trembling body.

Your thighs quivered, threatening to close around him, but he held you open, kept you exactly where he wanted you.

As the orgasm tore through you, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, you melted back against the mirror behind you, the cool glass a stark contrast to the fever burning beneath your skin.

A sound escaped you, a broken mix of moans and sobs, as the last waves of your orgasm rippled through your body.

“Luigi… Luigi...” you panted. “This feels so fucking good.”

He never stopped, not until he was sure he had wrung every last bit of pleasure from you.

And when he finally pulled back, his lips glistening, his eyes dark with satisfaction, he smirked.

“Fucking unbelievable,” you panted, still trying to steady your breath.

Luigi wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, then met your gaze with a lazy, satisfied grin.

“You taste so good when you scream my name.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, and with a nervous giggle, you pressed a hand over your face, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

With a low chuckle, Luigi leaned in, peppering quick, playful kisses across your flushed skin, his smile wide and unrestrained.

“Don’t be shy, my pretty princess,” he murmured between kisses, his voice dripping with amusement. Then, with one final peck to the tip of your nose, he added, “Now come on - we’re already late for breakfast.”

…

When you came downstairs and stepped into the sunlit kitchen, the sound of your family's laughter drifted in from the patio. Even if they had already been up for a few hours, they were still lingering at the breakfast table.

Through the glass doors, you spotted Ben sprawled across two chairs, Celine perched behind him, lazily rubbing his shoulders. Across from them, your mom animatedly gestured with her hands, clearly in the middle of an impassioned explanation of something – as always eager to get important points across.

Your dad, busy with work as always, was seated at the table - sunglasses perched on his nose. He was deeply engrossed in his phone, no doubt exchanging emails or group chat texts with his team back in New York.

You placed a reassuring kiss on Luigi’s cheek before stepping out onto the patio, pushing through the open glass doors.

The moment you appeared, all conversation halted. Every set of eyes turned toward you and Luigi, curiosity and amusement written across their faces. Your mom’s smile was the brightest you'd ever seen, while Celine’s held a teasing glint. Ben, predictably, was already smirking, no doubt plotting how to best tease you both. It was almost as you could hear his mind running wild.

“Oh, there you are!” your dad said, finally looking up from his phone, pausing his intense typing. “We missed you! But the music from your room was pretty loud earlier, so we figured you were awake.”

Your stomach flipped. Heat surged to your cheeks, and you dared not look at Luigi, afraid your expression would betray you.

“Quite the morning party,” your dad continued, utterly oblivious. “Great way to get energized for the day.”

Ben choked on his coffee, coughing violently as he tried - and failed - to mask his laughter.

Your dad turned to Ben with a puzzled expression, innocently unaware the true meaning behind his sudden amusement.

It hit you that your dad was probably the only one completely unaware of what had transpired between you and Luigi in the last couple of days, since he had been so consumed with work – your mom probably hadn’t had the time to keep him in the loop.

Luigi, ever composed, shot Ben a knowing look with his lips quirking into a smirk. He stepped forward, pulling out a chair and settling himself at the table with an effortless ease together with the rest of your family.

Ben, now fully recovered and sensing an opportunity too good to pass up, leaned in with his signature mischief dancing in his eyes.

“So, Luigi, tell me…” he began, his voice slow and teasing, “what’s your favorite song to… get energized to in the morning?”

The amusement in his tone was unmistakable.

You felt your face go flush red. Fucking Ben.

Luigi’s lips twitched as if fighting to suppress a grin, but he managed to keep his composure.

With a teasing smile and an easy shrug, he replied, “I like something with a high BPM – it helps me keep my pace up.”

Celine, who had been taking a sip of water, nearly choked, letting out an uncharacteristic giggle as she set down her glass a little too quickly. Ben, eyebrows raised in appreciation, nodded as if impressed.

You, still lingering in the doorway, decided it was time to cut this conversation short before it spiraled any further.

“I’m making coffee,” you announced abruptly. “Anyone want a refill?”

A round of no’s followed, except for your mom, who raised a hand. “No coffee for me, sweetheart, but could you grab me a glass of orange juice?”

“Of course,” you replied, smiling, before turning toward Luigi. “How about you, baby?”

Silence.

It lasted no more than a second, but in that moment, you felt the weight of every set of eyes at the table shifting between the two of you. Your dad even paused mid-text, his brows furrowing slightly.

Luigi, caught off guard, blinked before his expression softened into something gentle, intimate.

“A coffee would be amazing,” he murmured.

Your mom and Celine exchanged a knowing glance, warm smiles playing at the corners of their lips.

Ben, meanwhile, looked like he was barely holding back another remark, but for once, he let it slide.

Your dad, now thoroughly confused, studied Luigi for a moment longer, his gaze flickering between the two of you. It was as if the pieces of a puzzle were slowly aligning in his mind, yet he said nothing.

Instead, with a slight shake of his head, he simply returned to his phone, his fingers resuming their steady rhythm over the screen.

Back in the kitchen, you pulled out a tray, carefully placing a tall glass of juice for your mom alongside two steaming mugs of coffee - one for yourself, the other for Luigi. As an afterthought, you added a small selection of fruit and a couple of croissants, arranging it neatly before lifting the tray and making your way back outside.

Stepping onto the patio, you set the tray down in the center of the table, your gaze drifting toward the empty chairs. For a moment, you hesitated, considering your options. Then, instead of taking a seat on your own, you moved past them and walked straight over to Luigi.

Without a word, you slid into his lap.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face before a slow, delighted smile took its place. He welcomed you without hesitation, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you securely against him.

Your mom took a sip of her juice, her eyes warm with amusement, while Ben let out a short, appreciative whistle.

The sound snapped your dad’s attention away from his phone once again. This time with an even more confused look on his face - his brows furrowed deeper as he took in the sight of you nestled comfortably in Luigi’s embrace.

“Okay,” he said finally, breaking the silence at the table. He gestured between the two of you. “Clearly, something is going on here - something that everyone else seems to be up to date on except for me.”

A soft chuckle escaped you, while Luigi let out a quiet laugh, the both of you unable to suppress your amusement at your dad’s sheer bewilderment.

“I do have some questions,” he continued, pausing as if weighing his words. “But more urgently - Luigi, I need help with my computer.”

Laughter rippled around the table.

“Dad, seriously?” Celine groaned, rolling her eyes. “Read the room.”

“I am, honey,” your dad said defensively, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “But it really is urgent! My laptop keeps freezing, and I can’t get any work done. That’s why I’m stuck on this goddamn phone.” He held it up, pointing at it in frustration.

Luigi chuckled, shaking his head. “Just bring it to me, and I’ll fix it.”

Your dad shot Celine a pointed look. “See? Even on vacation, our man needs a little technical stimulation.”

A new round of laughter erupted, but as you glanced down at Luigi, the warmth in his eyes wasn’t just amusement - it was something deeper, something steady. You curled your fingers lightly over his, feeling the quiet reassurance in his touch.

As your dad disappeared inside to fetch his laptop, you slipped off Luigi’s lap and made your way into the kitchen, pouring a glass of juice for yourself as well.

By the time you returned to the patio, your dad had already placed the laptop in front of Luigi, his voice edged with frustration as he rattled off the list of issues. Luigi listened intently, nodding as he powered it on and moved the cursor across the screen with practiced ease.

Without hesitation, you slipped beneath one of Luigi’s arms and settled back into his lap. He barely reacted, merely adjusting his hold around you so he could continue working, his fingers dancing effortlessly over the keys.

“Liv, honey, don’t distract him,” your dad said, exasperation creeping into his tone as he watched you getting comfortable. “I really need him to figure this out - I have a Zoom meeting in less than an hour.”

Luigi’s lips quirked into a smile, his gaze never leaving the screen. “Don’t worry, Marc. I know how to multitask.”

Ben snickered, leaning back in his chair as he absentmindedly traced circles on Celine’s thigh. “Just let him cook, Marc.”

Your dad huffed but relented, scooting his chair back to give Luigi space before returning to his phone, fingers flying across the screen as he typed.

Settled in Luigi’s lap, you watched in quiet fascination as he worked, navigating through the laptop with impressive speed - opening and closing tabs, executing commands you didn’t even recognize.

His brows furrowed in concentration, his jaw tightening slightly as he absorbed the data in front of him.

Why was this so hot?

A slow, simmering heat unfurled within you, pooling low in your stomach. You exhaled, shaking your head at yourself. That’s it, you needed to get a grip. This was getting ridiculous -  you were entirely, hopelessly gone for this man.

After a few moments, Luigi exhaled through his nose, eyes narrowing. “Okay, Marc - I think the issue is with the device drivers. They might be outdated or corrupted, which could be causing the system instability and screen freezes.”

He paused, his fingers hovering over the trackpad. “Either that, or there’s some kind of software conflict.”

Your dad blinked at him, clearly out of his depth. “Okay… so what does that mean?”

Luigi glanced up. “Did you install any updates recently?”

Your dad hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… yeah, I might have clicked on something the other day. You know, those pop-ups? I just do what they tell me.”

You sighed. “Dad, please…”

Luigi chuckled, shaking his head. “No worries. I’ll roll back the driver to the previous version - that should stabilize everything in time for your meeting.” His fingers flew across the keyboard. “Later, I’ll do a deep dive and get everything properly sorted, okay?”

Your dad let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “You just saved my life.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a chuckle. “Dramatic much?”

Luigi smirked as he wrapped up his work, the laptop humming quietly. But even as he fixed your dad’s technical crisis, his arm remained securely around you, his touch grounding you in the quiet certainty of his presence.

Across the table, your mom rose gracefully, smoothing the delicate wrinkles from her floral pink and orange dress. The vibrant colors contrasted beautifully against her sun-kissed skin, her dark hair cascading effortlessly over her shoulders. She picked up her phone, her gaze sweeping over the table with quiet amusement.

“So,” she began, instantly commanding everyone’s attention, “we have an exciting - though still undecided - day ahead of us.” Her eyes flickered between each of you, lingering just long enough to build suspense. “As you know we gave a poll going, with the following options on the table: antique shopping, a beach day, or a boat excursion.”

A mischievous glint sparked in her eyes as she turned her attention to Luigi. “And as it happens, we’re at a tie.” She smiled warmly. “You, my dear, might just be the deciding vote.”

Luigi arched a brow, clearly entertained by the weight of his newfound responsibility.

Your mother’s smile deepened as she reached for her phone again, looking at Luigi with warmth in her eyes.

“Check your phone honey – we just added you to the family group chat.”

Chapter Text

To Ben’s absolute outrage, antique shopping had won the family group chat poll, the verdict delivered by your mom in the kitchen after breakfast.

The deciding vote? Luigi. His choice had tipped the scales in favor of you and Celine’s plan to spend the day meandering through downtown’s antique boutiques – putting an end to any hope of the boat excursion championed by Ben and your mom.

Ben lashed out on Luigi and your dad, arms thrown wide in exasperation. “How the hell did you two let this happen?”

“We were so fucking close to an incredible boat trip, and now we’re wasting the whole day in a bunch of dusty old shops?”

Luigi, unfazed, leaned against the counter, a smirk playing at his lips. “Celine mentioned you needed a few things for the apartment.”

Ben exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I can’t even be mad at you, Mangione. Celine got to you, and I get it, she can be super manipulative. Took me years to build up immunity.”

Then, with fresh irritation, he turned on your dad.

“But you, Marc - how could you be dumb enough to waste your vote on a beach day when you were the only one voting for it? You single-handedly sabotaged the whole day!” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Honestly, this really makes me question your ability to think strategically.”

Your dad, entirely unbothered, simply smiled watching Ben crash out - slowly, amused. It made you think that his seemingly careless family group chat vote might not have been an accident at all.

“Calm down, babe,” Celine cut in smoothly. “Like I told Luigi, we should really pick up a few fun things for the apartment.”

Ben groaned and dropped into one of the kitchen chairs, his expression the very picture of misery.

“I swear to God - dealing with FedEx to ship that damn sculpture home last summer took five years off my life. This time, you’re handling the shipping of all your shit back home, not me.”

“Of course, babe,” Celine replied sweetly, fully aware she had no intention of lifting a finger to get any of her stuff back to New York.

With that, everyone scattered to their rooms to change for a day downtown.

With the promise of warm weather ahead, you chose something light and effortless – a pair of green Loewe pleated silk-blend sateen shorts paired it with a clean white tank top and your favorite flats, the Jimmy Choo Ayla brown leather sandals.

Unraveling your hair from its messy bun, you let the soft waves tumble down your back. You added a hint of cream blush to your cheeks, and a sweep of lip oil to your lips for just the right touch of sheen. Satisfied, you took one last glance in the mirror before making your way downstairs again, ready for the day ahead.

Stepping out onto the sun-drenched patio again, you spotted Luigi lounging at the edge of a sunbed, legs spread lazily apart, elbows braced on his knees, eyes fixed on his phone. The warm light cast soft shadows over him - the casual slouch of his posture and knowing that he was waiting for you and no one else, immediately had you smiling.

You halted mid-step when you came closer and got a good look of him.

He wore a crisp white t-shirt paired a pair of loose-fitting, faded blue jeans, the fabric settling over his frame just perfectly. But it wasn’t the clean look of the shirt and the jeans that made you stop in your tracks.

It was the backward hat - pushing his dark curls away from his face, revealing the sharp angles of his jaw, the slope of his cheekbones.

You’d never seen him in a baseball cap before. And now, you weren’t sure how you’d gone this long without it. He looked unbelievably hot.

A slow smile tugged at your lips as you sauntered toward him. “New look?” you teased, arching a brow.

Luigi squinted up at you, the sun catching in his eyes as he furrowed his brows, adjusting to the light. Then, his lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, the hat?” He reached up, fingers brushing over it as if just remembering it was there. “Ben gave it to me - said I should wear it.”

You let out a small chuckle. “So, you’re taking fashion advice from Ben now?” Your voice lilted with amusement as you closed the distance, climbing onto the sunbed to straddle his lap.

At first, he blinked in confusion, but the second realization struck, his phone was forgotten. He tossed it aside, hands finding your waist in a firm, claiming grip, pulling you flush against him. “I thought you agreed that I’d be your stylist from now on,” you murmured, eyes locked onto his.

You slid your arms around his neck, fingers toying with the curls of hair that peeked from beneath the cap. He looked confused. “I can take it off if you’d like…?”

Before he could respond, you cut him off with a kiss - slow, deliberate, your lips pressing against his in a way that left no room for argument. He met you eagerly, one hand sliding down the curve of your spine, the other anchoring you even closer.

“Don’t you dare take it off,” you whispered against his mouth.

A short, breathy laugh rumbled from his chest. “ Oh, okay… I take that as you liked it.”

“Mhm…” you hummed, rolling your hips against him, feeling the sharp inhale he took in response.

Luigi leaned in closer, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a playful bite. A slow, burning heat coiled in your stomach, the world around you dissolving into a blur at the edges.

Your tongues met, moving against each other in a slow, torturous rhythm that only heightened the intensity between you. His hand trailed up your back, fingers tracing the curve of your spine before settling around your neck, squeezing it with a grip firm yet tender.

You exhaled against his lips, your breaths mingling, the kiss deepening - slow, unrelenting, consuming. It was the kind of kiss that unraveled you, made you forget everything but the feeling of him against you.

Just as you felt yourself almost losing control, a deliberate clearing of a throat shattered the moment.

You jolted back to reality, both you and Luigi turning your heads at the same time, breathless, lips still parted. In the doorway leading to the patio, Celine stood with her arms crossed while Ben lingered beside her, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I don’t even need to ask if I interrupted anything, because it’s very obvious I did – but the car is here”. Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the house.

Ben, however, remained, a smirk playing on his lips as he surveyed the scene. “Alright, kids. Time to wrap up the foreplay.”

You reluctantly slid off Luigi’s lap, a sigh of frustration escaping your lips as the lingering heat between you cooled too soon.

Luigi rose to his feet, towering over you, his presence still intoxicatingly close. With a lingering kiss pressed to your forehead, he let his hand drift lower, giving your ass a playful squeeze before whispering, "We’ll finish this later." His voice was a promise wrapped in a tease, his smirk intoxicating.

He then quickly grabbed your hand and tugged you gently toward the house, falling into step behind Celine and Ben, the moment between you simmering just beneath the surface.

As Ben strode toward the waiting car, he paused and turned back, offering Luigi an appreciative nod.

"Looking good, Mangione. I knew Liv would be into that backward hat," he remarked with a knowing wink.

You couldn't help but laugh, a flush creeping up your cheeks.

"If there’s one thing I understand, it’s what the ladies like," Ben added, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

Celine let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes. "Babe, please."

Ben smirked as he pulled open the car door for her, casting her a pointed look.

"Babe, if I were you, I’d sit this one out. You're the one marrying me, so let’s not pretend you don’t know exactly what I’m talking about."

Celine hesitated for half a second before conceding with a small nod before stepping into the car. "Well, you know what? Fair point."

…

When you arrived downtown, the car rolled to a stop in front of your first destination - one of your favorite antique stores, Antiquariato Europeo, treasure trove of vintage lamps, delicate pottery, and fine china.

As you stepped onto the sidewalk, you glanced over at Ben who already looked exasperated, his boredom evident before he had even crossed the threshold to the store. You and Celine, well-practiced in the art of ignoring his dramatics, exchanged a glance and pressed forward not giving him any unnecessary attention.

Luigi strolled alongside your mom, their conversation hushed and continuous, just as it had been throughout the whole car ride. You had resisted the urge to interrupt but now you couldn’t help feeling a twinge of curiosity about whatever had them so engrossed for so long.

Your dad had already popped in his AirPods and was suddenly deep in what appeared to be a conference call, already drifting toward the back of the shop as he murmured into his phone.

The moment you stepped inside, your eyes immediately landed on a display of large, vibrantly colored plates a bit further into the store. You grabbed Celine’s hand and pulled her toward them. There was something deeply satisfying about finding unique pieces, small, beautiful reminders of Italy - to bring home to elevate your dinner table settings.

As you admired the colorful plates up close, Celine nudged you playfully.

“Please, please tell me we can sneak off soon for some alone time just you and me - I need to hear everything about last night, I’m not even joking.” She shot you a teasing grin. “Or this morning, for that matter.”

“You weren’t as discreet as you thought with that loud music” Her smile grew wider. “Pretty sure we all got the memo that you were enjoying Luigi to the fullest while we were having our morning coffee by the pool.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you instinctively dropped your gaze to the floor, the mere thought of you and Luigi this morning was enough to make your stomach flutter.

“Alright, alright,” you relented with a smirk. “I’ll give you some details, I promise.”

Celine’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. “Just tell me right now, quickly - was it as good as we all think it was?”

You arched a brow, biting back a grin. “Best sex of my entire fucking life.”

Celine let out a scandalized gasp, clapping her hands together in delight before you hurried to shush her, glancing around to make sure she hadn’t just drawn the attention of the entire store.

“You’re right, sorry,” she exhaled, making an exaggerated effort to compose herself.

“We cannot talk about this anywhere near mom - she’d probably drop dead if she heard something like this about her precious baby.” She paused, then shot you a smirk. “And by precious baby, I’m not talking about you, Liv - I’m talking about our boy Lu over there.”

At her words, your eyes flicked across the store, landing on Luigi and your mom, still deep in discussion over a stack of intricately painted plates. Whatever they were talking about, they seemed lost in their own world, and it made your heart swell.

After wandering the store for nearly twenty minutes, you and Celine finally settled on a few vibrant serving plates each. The cashier wrapped them carefully, placing them in separate bags before you paid and stepped back onto the bustling street.

Your mom and Luigi trailed close behind, while Ben lagged at a ridiculously slow pace, dragging his feet in protest. Behind him was your dad, conference call still ongoing.

“So, what’s next?” Celine asked, her voice bubbling with excitement. “I’d love to check out that shop by the harbor - the one with those incredible chandeliers we saw last summer. Remember, Liv?”

“Oh, I remember,” you said, already steering toward the store, anticipation sparking between you. “Something like that would look absolutely perfect in your hallway.”

Behind you, Ben came to an abrupt halt.

“You know what? I can’t pretend to be okay with this anymore,” he declared, his voice cutting through the air.

You turned, eyebrows raised, as Luigi chuckled under his breath. Celine shot him an exasperated look.

“Look at that.” Ben gestured toward the waterfront, where cozy restaurants and lively bars stretched along the dock. Laughter and music drifted from the outdoor seating areas, the scent of salt and fresh seafood mingling in the air. “I can’t be walking around in any more of these antique stores when I could be sitting by the water with a drink in my hand, enjoying this beautiful day to the fullest”.

Celine folded her arms. “Well, you’re not exactly contributing in any shape or form to activity anyways, so you might as well leave.”

Ben’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Can I bring Luigi with me? Please?”

Luigi glanced at you, amusement flickering in his eyes. He arched a questioning brow, as if asking for permission. He was holding up a brave face, but you could tell antique shopping so far wasn’t very enjoyable for him either.

You smirked. “Fine, you can borrow Luigi. But only if you promise to give him back to me.”

Luigi shot you a warm smile before turning to Ben, who looked victorious.

“How about me?” your dad suddenly chimed in, pulling out an AirPod as if just realizing what was happening.

“You’re not going anywhere,” your mom cut in before you could answer. “Now, come on. The chandeliers are waiting.”

Ben exhaled dramatically as you and Celine set off down the street, he and Luigi already turning in the opposite direction.

“Finally. Freedom.” Ben stretched his arms toward the sky. “Let’s go have some real fun.”

Luigi and Ben settled at one of the small waterfront bars, where wooden tables and chairs had been pulled out onto the sunlit terrace, facing the shimmering waves. Boats drifted lazily across the water, their reflections dancing over the rippling surface.

A waiter approached, and they ordered a couple of cold beers along with a selection of appetizers. As the server walked away, Ben exhaled a deep, satisfied sigh, leaning back in his chair and tilting his face toward the warmth of the sun.

"Now this," he said, stretching out, "is how you spend a day."

Luigi smiled. "Agreed."

Ben turned his head slightly, facing Luigi. "Always enjoy having some alone time with you as well," he admitted, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Might be less of that now that Liv has officially claimed you."

Luigi chuckled, his heart giving an involuntary flutter at the mention of your name. Ben laughed too, but there was warmth in his teasing.

The waiter returned moments later, setting down a tray on the small table between them. A frosted sheen clung to their beers, and beside them lay a spread of tomato bruschetta, grilled artichokes, and golden-fried olives.

Ben straightened in his seat, surveying the food appreciatively. "Oh, this looks good. Thanks," he said, flashing the waiter a bright smile before reaching for an olive.

As he popped it into his mouth, he leaned forward slightly, his tone shifting. "You know, I’ve always been good at reading people," he began. "It’s one of my strengths - making quick, accurate judgments. I rarely get blindsided. I just... see people for who they are."

Luigi took a sip of his beer, nodding. "Yeah, I can see how that is a useful skill to have."

Ben was quiet for a moment, gazing out at the sunlit water. When he spoke again, his voice was softer.

"Some people are just good people. You can just feel it. I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s just that little spark they have, you feel safe and happy around them.”

Luigi glanced over, catching the thoughtful look on Ben’s face just as he turned toward him.

“You have that, you know that right?”

Luigi blinked, caught off guard. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

Ben’s usual smirk had faded, replaced by something quieter, more serious. "You know, I can be serious too. And now I’m dead serious. You’re one of the kindest most genuine souls I have ever met."

The sincerity in his voice settled over Luigi, unexpected yet comforting. For a moment, he was overwhelmed, unsure how to respond.

"You know, I think you’re hot too," Ben said with a laugh, trying to lighten the sudden weight of the conversation. "But I just wanted to make sure you knew - you’re more than a pretty face and a ripped body to me."

Luigi chuckled, glancing down at his beer, the corners of his mouth tugging upward.

"A boy who is jacked and kind? Unbeatable." Ben shot him a wink.

Then his expression softened. "But in all seriousness, I just want you to know - I’m really happy you’re part of the family. Officially now"

Luigi felt a warmth spread through him, settling deep in his chest. "Thank you," he said, his voice quieter than before.

Ben nodded. "We’re lucky to have you. And honestly? This family is the best thing that’s ever happened to me too." His gaze drifted back to the water, his features briefly unreadable, as if lost in thought.

He set his beer down and grabbed a piece of bruschetta, taking a generous bite. A low sound of appreciation rumbled in his chest.

"Mm. This is amazing."

Luigi took one for himself, chewing thoughtfully before nodding. "Agreed."

For a moment, they ate in comfortable silence, until Ben spoke again, more casually this time. "I don’t think you know this, but my relationship with my own family is… Well, let’s just say it’s not great."

Luigi glanced over, caught off guard. "Really? Celine speaks so highly of your mom and dad."

Ben let out a short laugh, nodding. "Yeah, well, that’s all on Celine and the amazing person that she is. She’s done an incredible job with them." His face softened at the mention of his fiancé, a flicker of admiration in his eyes.

Luigi hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "So… what’s the issue between you and your parents?"

Ben shrugged, his voice deliberately light. "Oh, you know. The usual problems that come with growing up privileged - but with parents who were never really there."

Luigi studied him as he spoke.

"My dad was always busy with things he considered more important than family," Ben continued, absently picking at the crust of his bruschetta. "And my mom… I don’t think she ever really wanted kids."

Luigi’s brows furrowed slightly, but he stayed quiet, waiting.

"I mean, she loves me and my brother - it’s not like she wishes us dead or anything," Ben added with a short chuckle. But his expression turned distant, something unreadable flickering across his face. "I just think she would’ve been happier if she never had us."

Luigi swallowed, unsure of what to say. "I’m sorry," he murmured.

Ben exhaled, then shook his head. "It’s okay. It’s something I’ve had to come to terms with - accepting that I don’t have the relationship with my parents that I wish I did. Accepting that I had to take care of myself emotionally in ways I never should’ve had to at such a young age." He paused, then let out a breath. "I still struggle with it sometimes though."

Luigi watched him for a moment, the playful, sharp-witted Ben suddenly replaced by someone quieter, someone carrying more than he let on.

Luigi swallowed hard as Ben turned to him again, his expression unusually serious.

"When I first met Celine and her family," Ben began, rolling his beer between his palms, "it actually… triggered me. The way they were with each other - their closeness, their warmth. How effortlessly loving they were. It was so different from what I was used to. So functional."

He let out a quiet breath before taking another sip of his beer. "I think, in a way, I was jealous."

Luigi studied him. "Did Celine know you felt that way?" he asked, lifting his own glass to his lips.

"Not at first. But when I finally opened up about my experiences growing up, she helped me process everything. Helped me move forward."

Luigi hesitated before asking, "Were you scared to tell her? That it might change the way she saw you?"

Ben met his gaze and held it for a moment. "Yeah. Definitely," he admitted. "Where we grew up, keeping up the illusion of perfection is second nature. It’s what you do. Vulnerability isn’t just discouraged, it’s practically forbidden. Admitting that my family wasn’t perfect, that I wasn’t perfect… that was a huge leap of trust for me."

Luigi nodded slowly. "I can relate to that."

Ben exhaled, his fingers tapping lightly against his glass. "That was a big testament to how safe I felt with her. I knew Celine would never judge me - not for my family’s flaws, not for mine. That kind of acceptance… it was something I’d never had before."

Luigi tilted his head. "Was she the first person you ever felt that safe with?"

"Oh, for sure. No one else had even come close to making me open up like that." A small smile ghosted over Ben’s lips. "And Karen and Marc played a big part in that, too."

Luigi’s brow lifted. "Really?"

"Yeah. That’s what I mean when I say this family is one of the best things that ever happened to me," Ben said, his voice quieter now.

"They showed me that a different kind of family dynamic wasn’t just something out of a storybook - it actually existed. That love could be given freely, without expectations. That being seen, being cared for… didn’t have to be conditional. It didn’t have to be earned through achievement, or money, or status. It could just be."

Luigi sat with that for a moment, watching as Ben gazed out at the sunlit water, a contemplative look settling over his features.

A different kind of family. A different way to exist.

Maybe, just maybe, Ben wasn’t the only one still learning what that meant.

Chapter Text

Luigi’s phone vibrated against the wooden table, the sound sharp and sudden. He snatched it up instinctively, his eyes scanning the screen. A tense exhale escaped his lips before he set it back down without opening the message.

Running a hand through his curls, he let his gaze drift out over the shimmering water, its surface catching the bright light of the warm sun.

Ben, lounging across from him, arched an eyebrow.

“What was that?” His curiosity was evident. “You’re usually the ‘phone stays in the pocket’ kind of dude, but I’ve seen you checking it an unusual amount today. Who’s blowing up your phone?”

Luigi leaned his head back with a frustrated groan. “Just some people from back home.”

Ben studied him. “Uh-huh… And you don’t seem thrilled about it?”

Luigi shifted in his seat, reaching for his beer and taking a long, deliberate sip as if bracing himself. “It’s my ex. Vanessa.”

Ben perked up, ever the gossip, suddenly more engaged. “An ex, huh? Do tell.”

Luigi sighed, rolling the cold bottle between his palms. “We dated our senior year of college and a little beyond that. She was my first real relationship - like, an actual grown-up one. It didn’t work out for a million different reasons, but she was still a big part of a transformative time in my life, you know?”

Ben nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”

Luigi inhaled sharply. “When I got arrested, and during the trial, she never reached out. Not once. No words of support. Nothing. In fact, she did the opposite - acted like she never even knew me. She was clearly ashamed to be associated with me.”

Ben’s expression darkened as he glanced toward the water.

“And now, after the acquittal… She has been reaching out. A lot.” Luigi rubbed a hand over his face, his exhaustion evident. “Nonstop texts. She wants to meet. To apologize.”

Ben turned back to him, his expression sharp. “That was her just now?”

Luigi shook his head. “No, that was someone else. A mutual friend, trying to convince me to see her. She’s been getting people to plead her case since I keep saying no.”

Ben let out a low whistle. “That’s intense?”

“Yeah,” Luigi muttered. “Yesterday, she even texted saying she’s planning to fly out here next week. Just to pressure me into meeting with her.’”

Ben sat up straighter. “Alright, let’s be real here. That’s crossing a line. Just have Marc make some calls, get her a restraining order. It’s not like you haven’t had to do that before.”

Luigi smirked faintly. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s an option here.”

Ben narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

Luigi exhaled, rubbing the condensation off his bottle. “Because, despite everything, part of me understands. I think this whole thing fucked with her too. Maybe she’s just trying to make sense of it, and she thinks she needs me to do that.”

Ben scoffed. “That pisses me off. Everyone thinks they can use you to process their feelings? Screw that. Seriously, I’m sick of everyone trying to take advantage of you - you’re way too nice.”

Luigi swallowed hard. He knew Ben was right.

“Vanessa talking about coming here actually freaked me out a bit, so I told Karen about it earlier today when we were by ourselves in the store, she’s helping me sort out what to do. She doesn’t like this. At all.”

Ben nodded slowly.

“It’s good you told Karen, she doesn’t play about you.” Ben nodded slowly. “She needs to stay on top of this - some people from your past seems fucking unhinged.”

Ben’s voice softened. “You need to start cutting out the people who just hurt you. The sooner, the better. I can count, like, two real friends who’ve had your back through all this - Ethan and Jake, right? The rest?” He waved a dismissive hand. ”You had a lot of shitty friends - I’m sorry. That’s a hard pill to swallow but I’ve been there too.”

Luigi stared at his beer. “I hear you, Ben. I do. But I can’t shake the feeling that I put them through a lot too. It wasn’t easy for them to see me go through this, not knowing the full story. Maybe I should just meet with her - give her that closure so she can move on.”

Ben’s reaction was immediate. “No. Absolutely not.” He leaned in, his expression urgent. “Listen to me, man. You don’t owe anyone shit. If anything, they owe you. Can you please try to remember that?”

Luigi nodded slowly, but his expression remained conflicted. “I still think I need to tell Liv about this.”

Ben tilted his head. “Liv already knows about Vanessa, right?”

“Yeah,” Luigi nodded. “Since she handled the social media aspect of my case, she probably knows more about my past than I do. She’s seen all the pictures, all the drama.”

Ben smirked. “Yeah, she was locked in. We all know now why she put in those extra hours.” He winked.

Luigi chuckled, a slight blush creeping onto his face.

”Vanessa was actually going around in social media for a bit when the first pictures of us came out, there was a bit of controversy around it. So yeah, Liv definitely knows who she is.”

“But she doesn’t know that Vanessa’s contacting you,” Ben inferred. “And you don’t want it to make her uncomfortable.”

“Exactly,” Luigi admitted, twisting his bottle in his hands.

Ben’s voice was steady. “Just tell her. The sooner, the better. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Luigi gave him an appreciative smile, but before he could respond, loud voices cut through the calm afternoon air.

“There you are!”

A little down the boardwalk, you and Celine approached, both of you carrying an absurd number of shopping bags.

Ben exhaled dramatically. “What the hell - looks like they left nothing in the stores.”

Luigi laughed, grateful for the shift in conversation.

Your face lit up at the sight of him - just a few hours apart had you missing him more than you’d expected. The moment you reached their table, you set your bags down and threw yourself into Luigi’s arms. He caught you easily, pulling you onto his lap and pressing quick, affectionate kisses all over your face.

Celine lingered for a moment before turning to Ben with a playful glare. “Where’s my fucking kiss?”

Ben chuckled and yanked her closer. “So sorry, babe.” He grabbed her face and planted a loud, exaggerated kiss on her, complete with dramatic smacking noises.

Luigi’s gaze flickered from your face to the mountain of shopping bags at your feet. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Before you could answer, Ben let out an exaggerated sigh. “Let’s fucking hope so, for all our sakes. That’s enough shopping to last a lifetime.”

Celine rolled her eyes and, with a dramatic turn, pointedly ignored him, addressing Luigi instead. “Thank you for asking, Luigi. That’s very polite of you. And yes, we absolutely did - so far this day has been a great success.”

Luigi chuckled as you tightened your hold around him, fingers absentmindedly running through his hair as if you needed to feel every part of him again. “What about you?” you murmured. “Did you have a good time?”

Ben answered before Luigi could. “We’ve been having a great time, actually. We even found a new restaurant not too far from here. Figured we’d check it out. You two up for dinner?”

You and Celine exchanged a glance, already knowing the answer.

“We’re exhausted,” you admitted. “We just came to let you know we’re heading home. We need to lie down for a bit. We’ll grab something to eat at the house later - mom and dad already went home about thirty minutes ago.”

Ben’s expression fell. “Seriously?”

“But you two should still go!” you said quickly, not wanting to ruin their plans. “Right, Celine?”

Celine nodded, stretching her arms above her head as if to emphasize her fatigue. “Yeah, don’t let us stop you. Go, eat, have fun. Meanwhile, we’ll go home and attempt to organize this chaos.” She nudged one of the shopping bags with her foot.

Luigi hesitated, his gaze searching yours. “Are you sure?”

You smiled and leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against his lips. “Yes. Go have fun with Ben. We’ll hang out tonight when you get back.”

Ben clapped his hands together, eager once more. “Perfect, sounds like a plan. I’m ready for some pizza.”

…

Back at the house, you and Celine wasted no time changing into something more comfortable. The shopping bags were emptied, their contents sorted into neat - or not-so-neat - piles, before the two of you settled onto the patio, cocooned in soft blankets.

The evening air was warm but carried just enough of a breeze to be pleasant, the sky shifting into deeper hues of twilight.

Your dad appeared with a bottle of wine and a plate of appetizers, setting them down with a knowing smile before disappearing back inside to join your mom in the study.

You took a slow sip of wine, exhaling as the tension in your shoulders melted. After a full day of walking and weaving through crowds, this - lounging out here with Celine, the distant hum of cicadas in the background - was exactly what you needed.

Celine stretched out on the lounger beside you with a contented sigh. “Oh my god, this feels incredible,” she murmured. “My feet are dying from walking on those cobblestones all day. I swear I can still feel them under me.”

Your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen and smiled - a text from Luigi. Attached was a photo of Ben holding what had to be the biggest pizza you’d ever seen. You turned your phone toward Celine so she could see.

She giggled. “They are so cute together.”

“I know,” you agreed, warmth spreading through your chest. “I feel like Luigi is really relaxed with Ben. He trusts him a lot.”

Celine nodded, taking a sip of wine. “It’s great that they can have their own thing, too. You might not get this yet, since you’re still in the ‘want to be all over him all the time’ phase, but trust me, sometimes it’s nice to have a little breathing room. I, for one, appreciate Luigi babysitting Ben for a while.”

You laughed. “Oh, please. You’re just as clingy with Ben, don’t even try to act cool.”

Celine chuckled, twirling the stem of her wineglass between her fingers. “Yeah, yeah. I like Ben’s body, I can’t deny that. But a break from his smart mouth from time to time? Absolutely necessary.”

She turned to you, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“Speaking of bodies and mouths - tell me about Luigi’s.”

You choked on your wine. “Oh my god, Celine. Straight to the point, huh?”

“Hell yeah,” she grinned. “This is the first moment today we’ve been alone without mom and dad hovering. I have been starving for details. If you don’t spill immediately, I might actually combust.”

You groaned, hiding behind your wineglass. “Now I’m shy… What do you even want to know?”

Celine smirked. “Oh, I don’t know… everything? How many times? What positions? How big is it?”

A laugh burst from your throat, your head falling back against the pillow beneath you. “You are absolutely insane.”

Celine didn’t flinch. “Hey, you asked. I answered.” Her face was dead serious, her expression unrelenting.

You groaned again, pressing a hand to your face as warmth crept up your neck. “I can’t believe you.”

You hesitated for a moment, then shifted, propping yourself up on one elbow as you turned to face Celine. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, her entire body practically vibrating with excitement. She could tell you were bracing yourself to drop something good.

“Okay…” you began, drawing out the word just to tease her. “Five times so far - once in the kitchen, twice in bed, once in the shower, and once on the bathroom counter.”

Celine let out a delighted squeal, clapping her hands together and kicking her feet against the lounger. “Oh my god, yes! That is so fucking hot!”

You grinned, debating just how much more details you were willing to share. She was your sister, after all. And to be fair, you knew way too much about her and Ben’s sex life - some of it voluntarily, some of it… not.

You decided she deserved some tea.

“And as for his size…” You let the words hang, drawing out the suspense. Celine was practically holding her breath.

You smirked. “Biggest thing I’ve ever seen in real life.”

Celine gasped theatrically and collapsed back against her pillow. “I knew it! I fucking knew it,” she cackled, tossing a hand over her heart like she needed to steady herself. After a beat, she sat up again, her expression triumphant. “You can just tell by the way he carries himself.”

You giggled, feeling warmth rush to your cheeks as your stomach fluttered at the mere thought of him.

“But honestly,” you continued, swirling the wine in your glass, “it’s not the size of him that makes it so mind-blowing - though I won’t lie, his dick is definitely a sexy presence.”

Celine snorted, still riding the high of all this new, scandalous information.

“It’s the way he is with me,” you went on, your voice softening. “He’s so completely focused, so present. It’s like, the second we touch, nothing else exists for him. I’ve never felt so safe - so secure - with someone so fast. From the very first time, he took control in a way that let me let go, like I could just surrender to the moment and trust him completely.”

Celine exhaled dreamily, shaking her head. “So fucking hot. I love a man thriving in his masculine energy.”

You let out a breathy laugh, feeling your skin flush at the admission. “I know it sounds corny, but with him, I feel… feminine in a way I never have before. And that contrast, his raw masculinity in bed against my softness - it’s so fucking intoxicating.”

You took another slow sip of wine, warmth lingering not just in your chest but deep within your body as your mind betrayed you with flashes of sex with Luigi.

“But also,” you added suddenly, your own words catching you off guard, “it’s not just about the dominance. There’s this perfect balance of strength and tenderness. He knows exactly when to pull back, when to be sweet, open, gentle. It’s never performative, never forced. Just real. Natural.”

Celine sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart.

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned to Celine again with a slow, knowing smirk. “You know how ‘Mangione’ means ‘big eater’ in Italian?”

The moment the words left your lips, you saw the realization dawn on her face. Her eyes widened with excitement, her whole body practically vibrating as she sensed where this was going - and she was loving it.

“Well…” You let the suspense build, drawing out the pause for dramatic effect. Then, with a wicked glint in your eye, you continued. “Let’s just say… He is a big eater. A really big eater.”

You winked, and Celine let out an inhuman squeal before flinging herself back onto the lounger again.

You burst into laughter, beyond amused by her reaction, delighted that sharing these juicy details brought her such unfiltered joy.

She took a moment to collect herself, then sat up again, smoothing her hair as if that would somehow restore her composure. When she turned back to you, her expression was theatrically serious, her voice filled with exaggerated reverence.

“Good God,” she intoned, pausing for emphasis. “I am so. Fucking. Happy for you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, because honestly?

You felt the exact same way.

Chapter Text

The weight of the day settled over you and Celine as exhaustion overtook both of you, and a few glasses of red wine on the patio sealed the deal completely - you both decided that the only logical choice was to call it an early night.

Meanwhile, updates from Luigi and Ben’s night out trickled in, each message painting a picture of their increasingly carefree outing as they made their way through the downtown bars. They seemed in no hurry to return, leaving you with an entire evening to yourself.

Making the best of your alone time, you decided to indulge in a long, unhurried shower.

Steam curled around you as the hot water washed away the remnants of the day, relaxing your body. You took your time, massaging shampoo into your scalp, smoothing a nourishing hair mask through your hair.

Afterward, you gave your skin some extra attention, knowing that Luigi would soon be home, and you wanted to feel as soft as ever for him to touch. You layered the moisture by starting off with a rich body cream before sealing it in with your Sol de Janeiro body oil.

The last time you’d worn it, Luigi had told you that you smelled like a dessert, his voice laced with desire. The thought of him catching that familiar scent again when he came home tonight sent a pleasant warmth spreading through you.

With a few drops of Gisou honey infused oil worked into the ends of your hair, you wrapped yourself in your favorite Djerf Avenue robe, feeling wholly renewed. And when you remembered that your sheets had just been changed, a giddy sense of anticipation bubbled up inside you. This feeling was unbeatable.

Finally sliding into bed, you nestled your naked body into the crisp white linens, sighing at their cool freshness before reaching for your phone on the table next to you.

Just as you opened the TikTok app for some casual scrolling, a text from Luigi popped up. Your pulse picked up speed just seeing his name on the screen.

Luigi Nicholas: You up?

Your lips curled into a smile, a quiet laugh escaping as you typed back.

You: Yeah. You drunk?

The familiar three dots appeared instantly, your heart skipping in response.

Luigi Nicholas: A little bit lol
Luigi Nicholas: All I think about is you
Luigi Nicholas: I miss you so much, baby

A slow, deliberate thud echoed in your chest.

You: I miss you too. Can’t wait for you to come home. Laying in bed waiting for you.

His reply came so fast, it was almost comical.

Luigi Nicholas: omg don’t do this to me. I’m getting hard at the bar.

You giggled, heat blooming in your cheeks as you typed back.

You: I can help you with that if you come home.

A pause.

Luigi Nicholas: Fuck. You’re killing me.
Luigi Nicholas: Ben wants to hit one more stop before we go back. It’s like he never gets tired??

You smiled to yourself. When Ben had the chance to cut loose, he was unstoppable.

You: Just stay out of trouble, ok?

Luigi Nicholas: See you soon, baby. Gonna be thinking about you and your perfect ass until then.

…

Hours passed. At some point, sleep had claimed you, pulling you under in its warm embrace.

But a distant sound of commotion downstairs suddenly stirred you awake - a chair scraping against the floor, something tumbling over, followed by deep, unrestrained laughter. Luigi and Ben were finally home.

Too tired to care what chaos they were causing, you let your eyes flutter shut once more, drifting back into hazy slumber.

A few moments later you could hear the door to your room creak open. Soft, measured steps padded across the carpet. You remained still, your back to the door, heart picking up its pace. You knew it was Luigi, could sense his presence in the way he moved, in the barely-there noises he made while trying - and failing - to be quiet.

“Oh, fuck…” he hissed under his breath as he walked straight into the small table behind the bed. You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

Then came the rustling of fabric - his belt unbuckling, jeans sliding down, shirt tugged over his head. The faint thump of his clothes hitting the chair.

And then, the shift of the covers. Cool air whispered over your skin as he lifted the blanket and slipped beneath it. And finally - the warmth. His body curled against yours, radiating heat, his scent wrapping around you like a drug – a mix of his cologne and the warm scent of his skin.

You melted into him instantly. His hand ghosted up your hip, fingers tracing your waist. The moment he realized you were completely naked, his breath hitched.

“Oh, shit,” he murmured, his voice slow and dark.

A small smile played on your lips as you reached back, taking his hand in yours, letting him know you were awake. He exhaled, long and slow, before molding himself closer, his warm chest pressing firm against your back.

“Baby, I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

A shiver ran down your spine, your entire body reacting to the rough velvet of his voice, to his words.

“I’ve missed you too,” you breathed. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

“I’m so happy to be home” he answered back. A quiet hum of satisfaction rumbled in his chest as he pulled you impossibly close, his arms caging you in a way that felt both protective and possessive. You could feel him - his solid, unmistakable, hard length - pressed against you.

“I can tell just how happy you are,” you teased, a smile playing at your lips.

He chuckled slowly as his lips found the curve of your shoulder, trailing slow, deliberate kisses along your skin.

“Are you too tired?” he asked, his tone careful, yet laced with unmistakable want.

“No,” you whispered. And that was all he needed.

His mouth returned to your neck, pressing firmer now, more urgent, while his hand roamed upward, fingers skimming your stomach before cupping your breast. His grip tightened, kneading, his breath growing heavier as he pressed himself against you from behind.

“I couldn’t focus on anything at the bar,” he admitted, his voice rough with restraint. “All I could think about was this. You. Over and over in my head.”

A soft laugh escaped you as you arched your back, pressing yourself against him, reveling in the warmth of his touch. His hands traced your body with aching slowness, exploring, discovering, sending waves of anticipation coursing through you.

 “I’m so fucking obsessed with you” he moaned in your ear.

You pressed your ass against him in response, arching your back. When his fingers dipped lower, teasing, testing, a sigh escaped your lips, your body responding to his every movement. He groaned at your reaction, his lips ghosting over your ear.

His fingers made their way in between your legs, and you let out another sigh of pleasure as his index and middle fingers swept over your clit, having shivers shoot throughout your body.

He moaned into your ear at your reaction, moving his fingers in soft circles, travelling down inwards, feeling your arousal.

“You’re already so wet baby,” he murmured, voice thick with desire. “Have you been thinking about me too?”

“I have,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper, breathless beneath his touch and the movements of his fingers.

His lips brushed against your shoulder, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “Oh yeah? Tell me about it.”

Your body arched instinctively into him. “Your hands… just like this,” you panted. “Your lips on my skin.”

He let out a slow, satisfied sigh.

“Anything else?” His voice carried a teasing lilt, deep and rough with amusement.

You swallowed, heat pooling low in your stomach. “I’ve been thinking about your big dick,” you confessed. “And how much I need to feel it inside me again.”

A quiet moan escaped his lips, the air between you charged and electric.

“Really?” he murmured, his tone dark and edged with restraint.

Then you felt it - the slow, deliberate shift of his body against yours, how his dick was sliding against you slowly from behind, nearing your soaked entrance. A sharp gasp left your lips, need tightening like a coil inside you.

“How bad do you need it?” His voice was low, dangerous, hungry.

“Please, baby,” you breathed, tilting your hips back into him, your voice laced with desperation. “I need your dick so fucking bad.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest before his hands gripped your hips, steadying you, positioning you just right. And then he finally pushed forward, sinking into you inch by inch.

A cry left your lips at the stretch, the fullness, the way he filled you completely.

“Fuck,” you panted, gripping onto the sheets as he adjusted, one strong arm slipping beneath your waist, the other lifting your leg just enough to shift the angle, to bring you impossibly closer.

Luigi groaned, burying his face in the curve of your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your heated skin. His breath was ragged, his pace slow and deliberate at first, each movement sending shockwaves through you.

He angled you slightly forward, bracing himself as he found his rhythm - deep, powerful, consuming. Each thrust sent a dizzying pleasure through you, winding you tighter, pulling you under, until nothing else existed but him.

You buried your face into the pillow, muffling the loud cry that threatened to escape. You had no idea if Ben was still awake downstairs, or how loud you could be at this hour in a silent house.

Luigi leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, teasing whisper. “We’re gonna have to teach you how to come a little quieter, baby.”

Before you could respond, his fingers found your clit again, moving in perfect rhythm with the slow, deliberate thrusts from behind. The combination of his words and his movements was overwhelming - electric, dizzying, impossible to withstand.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat. “Luigi, fuck, I -”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing his body flush against yours.

As the wave of your orgasm surged forward, consuming you whole, his warm hand slid over your mouth covering it, pressing hard and muffling your desperate cry.

Your body tensed, then shattered, trembling beneath him as ecstasy crashed over you in violent, breathtaking waves.

Luigis movements grew more urgent, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. You could feel that he was close - the way his muscles tensed, the way his rhythm stuttered, the deep groan that rumbled through his chest as he finally let go.

His warmth finally spilled into you, his body shuddering against yours.

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in the aftershocks. Then Luigi exhaled a laugh, his grip loosening around your mouth as he let his weight settle over you, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he murmured against your skin. “I can’t believe I get to come home to this”.

You giggled breathlessly, your body still humming in satisfaction as you lay tangled together, the quiet rhythm of your breathing the only sound in the room.

Chapter Text

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed. Luigi was nowhere to be found. Frowning, you reached for your phone on the nightstand and squinted at the screen – it was only 7:00 AM. Considering how late he and Ben had stumbled in the night before, you were surprised he was up so early - even knowing how much he loved his morning runs.

You stretched beneath the covers, the remnants of sleep still clinging to you. But quickly became fully awake confused about where Luigi might be, so there was no point in lingering.

With a quiet sigh, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, reaching for your robe that was draped over the chair from the night before. Wrapping it snugly around yourself, you went into the bathroom to grab a claw clip for your hair before making your way downstairs.

The house was peaceful at this hour, bathed in the soft early morning rays of sun. But as you walked down the last few steps, you heard a low murmur of voices drifting in from the living room. You followed the sound, stepping into the seating area - and immediately halted.

Luigi sat on the couch beside your mom, the two of them engaged in what looked like a serious conversation. Their hushed tones and the tension in their postures sent an uneasy prickle down your spine.

“You two are up early,” you remarked, raising an eyebrow.

Both of them turned to you in unison, their expressions startled - as if they hadn’t expected you to be awake yet.

“Oh, you’re up, honey,” your mom said, her voice measured. There was a tightness to her features that made your stomach clench. Beside her, Luigi offered a small, tired smile, though his eyes looked absolutely drained.

A sense of unease curled in your chest.

“What’s going on?” you asked, gaze flicking between them, searching for answers in their unreadable expressions. “Did something happen? Is everything okay?”

Your mom exhaled slowly, hesitating before she spoke.

“We have a bit of a… situation.” She patted the empty space between her and Luigi. “You should probably hear this, too. Come sit with us.”

Your pulse quickened as you crossed the room, sinking onto the couch between them. Instinctively, you reached for Luigi’s hand, squeezing it gently. His fingers curled around yours, but there was tension in his grip.

Your mom turned to him. “Luigi, do you want to tell her?”

He let out a deep sigh, tilting his head back briefly before meeting your gaze. He opened his mouth, hesitating - pressing his tongue up against his upper lip.

“It’s Vanessa,” he said finally, his voice weighted with something you couldn’t quite place.

Your brows knit together. “Vanessa… Vanessa Vanessa?”

“Yeah.” His expression remained unreadable. “She’s coming here in a couple of days. She wants to see me.”

You stared at him, waiting for the explanation that would make sense of this.

The only thing you knew about Vanessa was that she was his ex - the one who had been publicly dragged across social media after photos of her and Luigi were posted online, and there had been a whole controversy surrounding it, surrounding her. From what you’d gathered, she had been very clear about wanting nothing to do with him since then, in any shape or form.

“You’re still in contact with her?” The words left your lips before you could filter them.

Luigi exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“She’s been reaching out for a while now,” he admitted. “Ever since… everything happened with my arrest and the trial, she’s been saying it’s really taken a toll on her. She’s been very upset. She wants closure.”

Your mother huffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t like this,” she muttered before catching herself. She sighed. “Sorry, honey. I’ll let you explain.”

Luigi looked conflicted, his jaw tightening before he continued.

“I know I don’t owe her anything,” he said, his voice low. “But I can’t pretend like she didn’t take a lot of heat on social media because of me. And if meeting her will help her finally move on and heal from that, then… I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

You studied his face, searching for any trace of hesitation, any lingering attachment to the past. But all you saw was exhaustion - and something else, something unreadable.

You took a deep breath, letting the weight of the moment settle over you. No matter how unsettling this all felt, one thing was certain - you needed to support Luigi. The ghosts of his past, the unfinished chapters, and the people he thought he’d left behind would inevitably resurface in the wake of his acquittal. This was only the beginning.

He would need an anchor - someone unwavering, someone he could lean on. You would be that person. You had to be.

Turning to Luigi, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I actually understand where you’re coming from,” you said softly. “I didn’t like how she never showed you any support when everything was happening, but I can also see that what she endured on social media wasn’t easy. She never asked for any of this.”

Luigi looked up at you then, his tired eyes flickering with something close to relief.

Before he could respond, your mother cut in, her voice firm. “I see what you’re saying,” she allowed, “but it’s the way she’s going about it. The constant texting and calling, ignoring your boundaries - having your mutual friends harass you on her behalf. That isn’t okay.”

Luigi sighed, running a hand through his tousled curls. “I know,” he murmured. “It’s been… super intense.”

“It’s more than intense,” your mom countered, shaking her head. “It’s too much. And honestly? I don’t trust her intentions. I don’t think she respects you, or any of the things you’ve been through.”

Your stomach tightened as you turned back to Luigi. “So, she’s planning on coming here? To Italy?”

He exhaled, nodding. “Yeah… She’s arriving in a couple of days. She wants to set up a time for me to come to her hotel and talk.”

At that, your mom stood abruptly, her expression darkening. “ And that’s where I draw the line.” Her tone brooked no argument. “If she wants to see you, she can come here. Liv, Celine and Ben can be somewhere else, but Marc and I will stay here when you talk to her. I’m not letting you meet with her alone.”

Her words hung in the air, thick with finality.

Luigi hesitated for a moment before finally nodding, his gaze fixed on the table as if deep in thought.

“Okay,” he murmured. “That might be a good idea. I’ll let her know.”

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before rising from the couch. As you made your way to the kitchen, you left him and your mother to work out the details, their voices low and serious behind you.

Filling a cup with freshly brewed coffee, you wrapped your hands around the warm ceramic, hoping it would steady the unease creeping through you. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this was off.

You wanted to support Luigi - this was clearly something he felt he needed to do - but you agreed with your mom. Vanessa’s insistence, her sudden reappearance after all this time… it didn’t sit right with you.

A quiet sigh escaped your lips as you stared into your coffee. Whether you liked it or not, this was happening. You just hoped it wouldn’t turn into something you’d all regret.

…

The days leading up to Vanessa’s visit were thick with restless anticipation, an unspoken tension lingering in the air. You and Luigi did your best to distract yourselves, filling the time with sun-drenched afternoons at the beach, boat trips, and the little things that you knew brought him joy. But no matter how you tried to keep yourselves busy, the inevitable still loomed on the horizon.

And then, the day finally arrived.

To give Luigi space, you, Celine, and Ben decided to head downtown for lunch while your parents remained at home for the visit. Vanessa was expected at noon, and just before you left, you stepped outside to find Luigi waiting by the car, hands fidgeting at his sides, his jaw tight with nerves.

You walked up to him, closed the distance between you. You pressed yourself against him, your warmth molding to his. Your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, threading through his hair, scratching lightly in the way you knew soothed him.

Slowly, your hands trailed down his back, slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt, fingertips brushing against his bare skin in soft, reassuring strokes. He let out a slow exhale at your touch, his tense shoulders relaxing just enough for his eyes to finally meet yours.

“It’ll be okay, baby,” you whispered, your voice gentle but certain. “I think this is a good thing. Give her the closure she needs, and she’ll move on. Then you can put this behind you, too.”

He nodded, but the hesitation in his eyes told you he wasn’t fully convinced.

Your palm found his cheek, thumb tracing over the light stubble. “I love you so much baby. We’ll be back soon, okay?”

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a lingering kiss, as if trying to anchor himself to the moment. When he finally pulled away, he didn’t go far, his breath still warm against your lips.

“I love you too,” he murmured. “I love you so much.”

…

Half an hour later, a sharp knock echoed through the stillness of the house.

Seated at the kitchen table, your mom paused, setting down her coffee with deliberate care. She cast a glance toward the patio, where Luigi sat in silence, his posture rigid.

“Luigi - she’s here. I’ll bring her out to you.” He didn’t respond, but she knew he had heard.

Straightening, she smoothed her hands over her dress and turned to Marc, who sat on the couch, a crossword in hand. He met her gaze with an unreadable expression, his grip tightening slightly around the pen. She gave him a small nod, then exhaled, steadying herself before crossing to the door.

With one final breath, she pulled it open.

And there she was—Vanessa.

She stood poised in the doorway, her presence as effortless as if she had rehearsed it. She wore a short white ruffled dress, the fabric delicate against her tanned skin, paired with a pair of high-heeled strappy leather sandals that made her appear taller than in the photos your mom had seen of her.

Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders in a glossy, immaculate blowout. Hanging on her wrist was a tan Kelly bag, left carelessly unfastened.

Your mother lifted her chin slightly, offering a polite, if restrained, smile. “You must be Vanessa.”

Vanessa’s lips curved into a dazzling smile of her own - one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“And you must be Karen.” She extended a perfectly manicured hand, shaking your moms with an air of poised confidence.

“Thank you so much for letting me come here. It’s incredibly generous of you to extend this invitation so I could finally see Luigi. And, I must say, you have a stunning home.”

Your mother’s smile didn’t waver, but there was no warmth behind it. “Of course. And thank you.” She stepped aside. “Luigi is waiting for you. I’ll walk you out.”

Vanessa followed her through the sunlit open floor, their steps light against the polished wood. As they stepped onto the patio, Luigi sat at the outdoor dining table, his back still turned, shoulders stiff with anticipation.

At the sound of their approach, he stood abruptly, turning to face them.

The moment Vanessa’s eyes landed on him, her face lit up, a radiant smile spreading across her lips. Without hesitation, she stepped past your mom and strode toward him, her pace quickening.

Luigi barely had time to react before she was there, throwing herself into his arms.

His body tensed, caught off guard, but after a beat of hesitation, he returned the hug - though stiffly, uncertainly.

Vanessa lingered in the embrace, saying nothing. When she finally pulled back, her hands still rested lightly on his arms, her gaze locking onto his.

“I can’t believe how long it’s been,” she breathed.

Your mom cleared her throat pointedly from behind.

“I’ll get you something to drink,” she announced, her tone crisp. “Lemonade okay with you, Vanessa?”

Vanessa turned to her, flashing another one of those brilliant smiles.

“That would be absolutely amazing. Thank you so much.”

Your mom gave a short nod before turning back toward the house. The second her back was to Vanessa, she rolled her eyes, exhaling sharply as she made her way to the kitchen.

Vanessa tilted her head, her gaze sweeping over Luigi’s face as if studying every detail, every change time had etched onto him.

“You look good,” she said, her voice smooth, almost amused. A slow smile spread across her lips. “Really good.”

Luigi cleared his throat, his voice catching slightly. “Thanks.” He gestured toward the table. “Uh… want to sit?”

She gave a small nod, dragging her chair just a little closer as they settled in, their knees nearly brushing.

Setting her bag on the table, Vanessa cleared her throat, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“I mean, you were always good-looking,” she teased lightly, tilting her head. “But you’ve really grown up now, haven’t you?” A small giggle escaped her lips. “Looks good on you.”

Luigi turned his gaze toward the pool, breaking the eye contact.

“So… thanks for coming out here,” he murmured, his fingers tapping restlessly against his knee.

Vanessa leaned back, crossing her legs. “Yeah, well… seemed like your self-appointed caretaker didn’t trust you to come visit me on your own. Wonder why?” She shot him a playful wink.

Luigi blinked, caught off guard. His brows furrowed.

“…Are you talking about Karen?”

“At your big age of twenty-seven, you’d think you’d be trusted to decide who you can and can’t meet,” she mused, feigning innocence. “But I guess I was wrong.”

Before Luigi could respond, the patio doors slid open, and Karen stepped out carrying a tray of lemonade. She set it down on the table, her sharp eyes flickering between the two of them, taking in the subtle shift in Luigi’s expression.

“Is everything alright out here?” she asked, her voice laced with quiet concern. Her gaze lingered on Luigi. “Honey?”

Luigi kept his eyes forward and gave a short nod. “Yeah. It’s okay.”

Karen frowned, unconvinced. Bending slightly, she placed a gentle hand on his back, searching his face.

“Are you sure?”

This time, Luigi met her eyes and gave a small nod. “I promise. Thank you.”

Karen straightened, but not before shooting Vanessa a pointed look.

“Marc and I will be right inside,” she said firmly. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

She gave Luigi’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, hesitating for just a moment before finally heading back inside.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Vanessa let out a quiet scoff. “Wow. She really does baby you, huh? Got yourself a new mom?”

Luigi shifted in his chair, discomfort evident in the tension of his shoulders.

“Vanessa,” he said, his patience thinning, “can we just get this over with? Just tell me what you need from me.” His gaze hardened as he met her eyes.

Vanessa picked up her glass of lemonade, taking a slow, measured sip before setting it down again. She turned to him, her expression unreadable.

“I don’t need anything from you, Luigi,” she said softly. “I would never come here to ask you for something.” She paused, watching him closely. “I just needed to see you.”

Luigi remained still, waiting.

She let out a quiet laugh, looking down for a moment as if lost in thought.

“When those pictures of us started circulating again, it brought back a lot of memories,” she admitted. “It made me realize just how beautiful our relationship really was.”

Luigi stiffened, his jaw tightening. He hadn’t expected this.

Vanessa exhaled, shaking her head slightly, almost as if she were reminiscing. “You were my first real love, you know? I feel like we became adults together in a way.” Her eyes lingered on his, filled with something he couldn’t quite read.

Luigi cleared his throat. “Why are you really here?” His voice was firm now, his back straightening. “You acted like you didn’t even know me during the worst time of my life. And now you just… show up out of nowhere to tell me how great we were?”

Vanessa’s expression shifted, a new urgency flashing in her eyes.

“You have to understand,” she said, her voice quieter but no less intense. “It wasn’t easy for me.” She swallowed hard. “It wasn’t easy for any of us - me, the rest of your friends. And the way people talked about me online? Luigi, it was insane.”

Luigi’s face softened slightly. He looked down at his hands, exhaling.

“Yeah, I know,” he admitted. “And I feel awful that you got dragged into it. That must have been… really hard for you.”

Vanessa nodded, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. She hesitated, then spoke again.

“But you know… as awful as it was, it also made me reevaluate what really matters.” Her voice dropped slightly. “Something good did come out of this.”

Luigi glanced up at her, his expression wary.

Vanessa leaned in slightly, her tone more intimate now. “Being so scared for you… seeing you in that horrible situation…” She shook her head, her voice thick with emotion. “It made me realize how much you still mean to me.”

Luigi inhaled sharply, his breath catching in his throat.

Vanessa leaned back slightly, a soft giggle escaping her lips as she reminisced. She inhaled deeply, as if drawing in the memories.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” she admitted, her voice carrying a wistful edge. “About when we met, all the fun we had. Everything we got to experience together.”

Luigi swallowed hard, his fingers tightening slightly against the armrest of his chair.

Vanessa leaned in again, her voice lowering conspiratorially as her eyes flickered toward the house, ensuring Karen and Marc were out of earshot.

“Like… the chemistry we had?” She exhaled slowly, locking eyes with him. “I probably shouldn’t admit this - it’s kind of embarrassing, really - but I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything that intense with anyone else since.”

A playful smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “We used to be all over each other.”

Luigi shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, his gaze darting away. But Vanessa didn’t seem to notice - or maybe she just didn’t care.

“You remember that New Year’s party at Ethan’s?” she continued, her voice dropping to a hushed, almost conspiratorial whisper. “When we got caught in the bathroom?” She laughed, tilting her head. “God, I’ve never seen you that panicked in my life.”

Luigi clenched his jaw, but she pressed on.

“Or that time we went to Antigua with my friends?” A slow, knowing smile crossed her lips. “When you and I barely left our room for three days?” She laughed lightly, shaking her head.

“My girlfriends were so pissed at me.” Her gaze flickered downward for a brief moment before she looked back up at him through her lashes.

Luigi turned away, staring at some distant point beyond the patio. But Vanessa leaned in just a fraction closer, trying to catch his eyes again.

“We had a lot of good times together,” she murmured, her tone softer now, almost coaxing. “At least you can admit that, right?”

A tense pause settled between them before Luigi finally spoke.

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet, hesitant. “That was a long time ago.”

Vanessa nodded, but her eyes never left his.

“It was,” she agreed. A small smile played on her lips, though there was something unreadable in her expression. “But I still remember everything.”

She held his gaze, silence stretching between them like a thread pulled taut.

"Does your fiancé know you’re here?" Luigi asked abruptly, his voice cutting through the heavy air between them.

Vanessa flinched, her gaze drifting toward the shimmering pool. For the first time since she’d arrived, she seemed momentarily unsteady.

"We broke off the engagement," she said after a pause, her tone clipped. "He didn’t really… get along with my dad."

Luigi let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Go figure."

"Stop it," Vanessa giggled, swatting at his arm playfully. "I know my dad is… a lot. But for what it’s worth, he always liked you. He really did."

"Yeah. Right." Luigi’s laugh was laced with sarcasm.

"I’m serious," Vanessa insisted, her expression softening. "Mom and Dad would have loved to see us get married."

Luigi just shook his head, unable to suppress another laugh. The idea was almost comical. Her father’s blatant disapproval of him had been a running joke among his friends - though, to be fair, no one had ever seemed good enough for his daughter.

Vanessa held his gaze for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she leaned in and placed her hand on his leg, her thumb tracing small, deliberate circles against the fabric of his jeans.

A shudder ran through Luigi, every muscle in his body tensing. He resisted the urge to pull away, not wanting to make a scene - but the contact sent a ripple of unease through him.

Her eyes searched his, brimming with something almost expectant.

"I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now," she murmured, her voice dropping to a gentle, almost intimate whisper. "So much to process. And now, here I am, just… appearing out of nowhere." She let out a soft, breathy laugh, as if to lighten the weight of her words.

Luigi felt his stomach tighten. Where was she going with this?

Vanessa gave him a small, careful smile.

"That’s why I wouldn’t expect you to give me an answer right away," she continued, tilting her head slightly. "Take your time."

His heart thudded in his chest.

Then, she looked at him, her expression shifting - something hesitant, but hopeful flickering in her eyes.

"But I guess what I really want to know is… is the door between us really closed? Like, truly closed?"

Luigi blinked.

Vanessa smiled again, wider this time, a spark of something almost triumphant behind it.

"Because, if you'd let me…" She inhaled softly. "I’d really love to give us a second chance."

Chapter Text

Luigi jerked away from Vanessa’s touch as if burned, pushing to his feet with sudden urgency. His hands twitched at his sides, restless, as he turned sharply and took a few steps toward the pool, exhaling through his nose.

Behind him, Vanessa’s lips curled into a knowing smile. She rose slowly, following him with measured steps.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” she murmured, her voice dipping into something soft, coaxing. “But you and me - I’m not ready to let it go.”

Luigi turned back to face her, his jaw clenched tight, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

“Vanessa” he exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “You and I haven’t been a thing for years. And we both know there are endless reasons why we didn’t work out.”

A flicker of surprise crossed her face, like she hadn’t expected him to shut her down so easily.

“We were young,” she pressed, stepping closer. “Neither of us really knew what we were doing. But these past few years? They made me realize how good we actually were together - how much I took for granted. I see that now.”

“Just stop.” Luigi’s voice was firm, final. “There’s nothing between us to revisit.”

A brief silence stretched between them. Then, before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

“Besides, I’m seeing someone else.”

Vanessa froze.

For the first time, she looked genuinely caught off guard. But it lasted only a second before she quickly recovered, clearing her throat and forcing a breathy laugh, slipping effortlessly back into her usual self-assured demeanor.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “You’re not seeing anyone.”

Luigi didn’t respond.

She tilted her head, studying him. “When would you have even started dating someone?” A slow, taunting smirk tugged at her lips. “Unless you’re fucking someone on your legal team.” She let out a laugh, full of amused disbelief.

Luigi’s jaw twitched. He hated how easily she got under his skin.

Then, as realization dawned on her, her expression shifted - her smirk faltered, morphing into something sharper, more incredulous.

“It is someone on your legal team,” she breathed, eyes widening. “Holy shit, Luigi. What the fuck are you thinking?” She let out a dry, disbelieving scoff.

Luigi met her gaze, his own unreadable.

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” he said simply. Then, without another word, he turned and strode toward the patio doors.

Vanessa spun after him, closing the distance between them in a few quick steps.

“Trauma bonding much?” she called, her voice laced with mocking amusement. “Yeah - that’s not gonna last.”

Luigi reached the patio doors in a few brisk strides and yanked them open. The sharp sound of the glass sliding startled your parents on the couch - both your mom and dad flinched, their heads snapping up in unison.

Concern flickered across their faces as Luigi strode inside, his movements tense, deliberate.

“Hey, what’s going on?” your mom asked, rising to her feet. Your dad followed suit, his expression guarded.

Luigi stopped near the hallway, positioning himself to the side. His voice was calm, but firm.

“Vanessa was just leaving,” he said. “We’re done talking.”

Behind him, Vanessa stepped inside but remained still, her gaze fixed downward, avoiding the eyes of your parents.

Your mom took in the scene, her lips pressing into a thin line before nodding.

“Alright,” she said, her tone even. Then, glancing at your dad, she added, “Marc, take Luigi back out to the patio.”

She motioned for Luigi to follow your dad as she turned toward Vanessa, leading her to the front door.

Outside, Vanessa’s car was still parked, her driver already stepping out as he spotted her approaching.

She turned to your mom, her expression unreadable.

“Thank you for letting me see him,” she said smoothly, offering her hand. “Very generous of you.” A slow, calculated smile tugged at her lips. “I suppose I’ll be seeing him again when he gets back to New York.”

Your mother held her gaze, unwavering.

“I doubt that,” she said coolly. A pause. “His social circle will be very limited for the foreseeable future. I’m sure you’re smart enough to understand why.”

For a brief moment, Vanessa hesitated. Then, as if a switch had flipped, something in her demeanor changed. The practiced charm melted away, replaced by something sharper, more condescending.

She let out a quiet scoff, her lips curling into a smirk.

“He already has a mother, you know that, right?” she said, tilting her head. “He needed you  in court, sure - but maybe it’s time for you to let go. This whole setup, having him live with you?” She gave a soft, incredulous laugh. “Kind of unprofessional, don’t you think?”

Vanessa turned toward the waiting car, already reaching for the door handle.

Your mom exhaled slowly, steadying herself. Every instinct told her to let it go - to walk back inside and close the door on Vanessa for good.

But something stopped her.

Against her better judgment, she stepped forward.

“You know what?” she called out.

Vanessa turned, arching a brow.

Karen’s expression was impassive, her voice calm.

“I won’t even touch on the audacity you have to speak to me like that, as a guest in my home.” She took another step forward, her gaze unflinching.

“But his mother or not, I will love and protect him until the day I die. And I will never - never - let anyone take advantage of his kind heart ever again.”

She let the words settle between them, then turned sharply on her heel and walked back into the house, shutting the door behind her without another glance.

When she stepped back inside, she barely paused before heading straight for the patio, where Luigi sat with your dad. Her jaw was tight, her movements brisk.

She didn’t meet either of their eyes as she shook out her arms, trying to dispel the lingering frustration simmering beneath her skin.

Your dad was the first to speak, his voice gentle. “Are you okay, honey?”

Luigi shot her a concerned look, but she exhaled sharply, waving a hand as if to dismiss the moment.

“I lost my composure for a minute,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Finally, she turned to face them both, letting out a slow breath.

“But that woman…” she shook her head. “Sorry, Luigi, but she got under my skin. I shouldn’t have let her.”

Luigi let out a tired chuckle, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s okay,” he said with a small shrug. “I know how she is. Vanessa’s used to getting her way. And when she doesn’t?” He smirked bitterly. “She crash out and get mean.”

His expression sobered then, his gaze steady.

“That’s why I’ll never meet with her ever again.”

…

When you got home from lunch, you barely slowed down as you tossed your bag and your shoes into the hallway, too eager to see Luigi to bother putting it away properly.

Your pulse quickened as you stepped into the kitchen, where your mom sat at the island, a glass of wine in front of her. Your dad stood beside her, sipping from his own glass, looking unusually pensive.

“Where’s Luigi? How did it go?” Your gaze darted around the room, searching for him, but he was nowhere in sight.

Your mom let out a sigh, offering a small, tight-lipped smile. “It took a bit of a left turn… let’s just leave it at that.”

“Oh, shit. Really?” Ben’s voice came from behind you as he stepped into the kitchen and dropped onto the stool next to your mom.

Your dad nodded. “Luigi will probably want to tell you himself, but yeah… it wasn’t great.”

Your stomach twisted, regret pooling in your chest. You’d encouraged this meeting, thinking it might bring closure, but had it only hurt him instead?

“Where is he?” you asked, still glancing toward the living room, out by the pool - anywhere he might be.

“The poor thing was completely drained,” your mom said softly. “He went upstairs to his room for some rest a couple of hours ago. You can probably go up and check on him now.”

You nodded, already turning toward the stairs when something caught your eye. You paused, glancing back at your mom.

“You look amazing, by the way. Are you going somewhere?”

She looked absolutely radiant in a sparkling gold, one-shoulder top, paired with white, draped wide-leg pants. Your dad, standing next to her in a crisp white button-down, looked just as polished. You smirked at him. “You look cute too, dad.”

He grinned and raised his glass in a playful toast. “Just tell me what you want, darling, no need to butter me up.”

You laughed, and your mom chuckled as well. “I think I forgot to mention - Jeff and Susan are in town for a couple of days, so we’re heading out to dinner with them tonight. We haven’t seen them in ages.”

“But,” your dad added, stepping over to the fridge and pulling the door open, “we made sure you have everything you need to make homemade pizza. So you won’t go hungry.”

You managed a small smile, appreciating the thought - but your mind was already upstairs, with Luigi.

You hurried upstairs, your heart pounding with anticipation as you made your way to his room. Pushing the door open gently, you found him sprawled across the bed, lying on top of the covers, fully clothed. It looked as though he had just collapsed there, sleep claiming him instantly.

Your breath caught at the sight of him - so still, so unguarded. His features were relaxed in slumber, lips slightly parted, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

A deep ache bloomed in your heart, a fierce rush of love and protectiveness surging through you. You wanted to shield him from everything, to take away all the weight he carried, to keep him safe from anything or anyone that might hurt him.

Moving quietly, you slipped onto the bed beside him, nestling against his side with careful ease. Your hand found its way to his chest, tracing slow, soothing circles over the fabric of his shirt, down to his stomach and back up again.

A soft murmur escaped him as his eyelids fluttered, his body stirring from sleep. His gaze, still hazy with exhaustion, found yours. The moment recognition set in, a look of relief washed over his face, followed by a slow, tired smile.

Without a word, he reached for you, his hand brushing against your cheek before he pulled you in, pressing himself against you like he couldn’t bear an inch of space between you. His lips met yours, warm and seeking, his touch filled with an urgency that made your heart swell.

It was as if he was afraid to let go - as if holding you grounded him, reminded him he wasn’t alone. And in that moment, as your fingers tangled in his hair and your lips molded to his, you felt with absolute certainty how you loved this man beyond reason, beyond any words.

Chapter Text

The sun melted into the horizon, washing the outdoor dining area in a warm, amber glow, as you and Luigi finally stepped outside.

Luigi still wore the same faded jeans and t-shirt he had slept in, his hair slightly rumpled, while you had slipped into one of your La Ligne favorites - a casual yet elegant dress with a black stretch-knit bodice and a white linen-blend skirt gathered at the dropped waist.

The scent of woodsmoke and crisping dough filled the air. Ben was already at work, moving with practiced ease around the large, wood-fired pizza oven your dad had installed two summers ago. It had barely seen any use since then, but Ben had been determined to bring it back to life.

"Hey, there you are - just in time," he called out, grinning as you and Luigi joined him. "I’ve got two pizzas ready to go so far - one veggie, one with pepperoni. Celine is just inside getting the wine."

Luigi peered at the food, a smile tugging at his lips. "This looks incredible, Ben. Who knew you were such an honorary Italian?" He clapped Ben on the back, his eyes warm with approval.

"You must be starving," you murmured, reaching for Luigi’s arm and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Did you even eat lunch today?"

He chuckled, shaking his head before slipping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. "Nope. Vanessa’s visit didn’t exactly boost my appetite."

Ben shot him a cautious glance. "Yeah, man - want to talk about it?"

Before Luigi could answer, Celine stepped outside, two bottles of wine tucked under her arms. She set them down on the table with a smirk. "We heard from mom and dad that she wasn’t just here to chat."

You glanced at Luigi, watching for any sign of discomfort, but he only shrugged, looking effortlessly unbothered as he leaned back in his chair.

"Yeah, closure wasn’t really what she was looking for after all," he admitted. "Seemed more like she was hoping to rekindle something. Guess getting dragged online for being my ex wasn’t as much of a deterrent as she let on."

You sat down in the chair next to him and ran your fingers gently over the back of his neck, massaging lightly. He sighed at the touch, tilting into it.

Ben raised an eyebrow. "Wait - you’re telling me she showed up here, hoping to get back together? After not giving a fuck about you when had the death penalty hanging over your head?"

"Pretty much," Luigi said, his voice dry. "She also decided to yell at Karen for being 'unprofessional' for letting me stay here." He smiled.

You giggled at the thought of your mom being scolded for treating Luigi like a baby.

"Oh, really?" Ben snorted. "And how’d that go?"

Luigi smirked. "Let’s just say Vanessa and Karen won’t be grabbing drinks together in New York anytime soon."

Ben and Celine settled into their seats, and Celine wasted no time pouring wine into everyone’s glasses before lifting hers with a smirk.

"To a night free of exes lingering in the shadows," she declared.

Laughter rang out as you all clinked glasses, the warmth of the evening settling in. The wine was rich and smooth, and as your stomach rumbled, you wasted no time grabbing a slice of pizza, sinking your teeth into the warm, perfectly crisped crust.

"This is amazing, Ben," you mumbled through a mouthful, barely pausing to breathe.

Luigi gave an approving nod, chewing in agreement. Celine shot Ben a look of pride. "That’s my husband-to-be," she said, nudging him playfully.

Ben swallowed a bite, then leaned back, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Alright, let’s settle a debate on this very relevant topic - what’s everyone’s stance on exes? Are they just part of the past, something you’re cool with hearing about, or would you rather pretend they never existed?"

You shrugged. "I think the important thing is remembering that an ex is usually an ex for a reason. There’s no point stressing over the fact that the person you’re with had a life before you. What’s the alternative? Only dating virgins?"

Ben grinned. "Well, Celine certainly was no virgin when we met, that’s for sure," he quipped, winking at her.

Luigi choked on his wine, letting out a startled laugh, while Celine simply shrugged. "He’s not wrong. I’ve had so many boyfriends, it’s actually crazy."

"She really has," you added with a chuckle, glancing at Luigi, who watched the exchange with amusement. "I’ve lost count of their names, that’s for sure."

"Same, honestly," Celine admitted. "But I like to think that sampling different flavors helped me make a very informed decision in choosing Ben as my future husband. At least he’s my first fiancé, right babe?"

"Damn right," Ben said, flashing a smug grin. "And I’m honored to have won the final rose in such a competitive season." He reached for Celine’s wrist, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

Celine turned to Luigi, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "What about you? Are you the jealous type?"

Luigi shook his head, completely unfazed. "No, I’m really not. It’s not like I expect Liv to have never dated before me. As long as it’s my name she’s screaming in bed, I’m good."

Celine let out a shriek of laughter, nearly doubling over, while Ben slapped the table, grinning. "Hell yeah, that’s the spirit!"

You groaned, burying your burning face in your hands. "Oh my god, Luigi."

"Yeah," Celine gasped between giggles. "And let’s be real - everyone staying in this house knows that’s not an issue."

You peeked at her through your fingers. "Celine - seriously?"

She threw her hands up innocently. "What? It’s not my fault you’re so fucking loud!"

Ben smirked, shaking his head. "Honestly, Luigi - we’re all familiar with your game at this point. Today we found out your dick is so good you even have bitches catching a flight, travelling 8 hours to try to get back on it."

That was it. You lost it, dissolving into laughter with Celine, both of you folded over the table in hysterics.

Luigi groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, but the amusement in his eyes betrayed him. "Too soon, Ben. Too fucking soon."

Ben only laughed harder as Celine, still breathless from her outburst, reached across the table to refill everyone’s wine. Her cheeks were flushed with amusement, her hand only slightly unsteady as she topped off each glass.

“Please, drink faster - I fucking refuse to be the only drunk person at this dinner,” she declared, a teasing lilt in her voice.

“I’m trying, but you’re too fast,” you giggled, lifting your glass to make her job easier. The rich scent of the wine curled into the air, the candlelight’s set out on the table catching in the deep red of the long stem glass.

"You all know how much I adore Karen and Marc," Ben began, swirling his wine in his glass. "But I have to say, I really enjoy these nights with just us. We always get to see a freakier side of you, Mangione - and you know how much I appreciate that." He shot a playful wink across the table.

Luigi chuckled, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned back in his chair. The flickering candlelight cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the amusement in his eyes as he lifted his glass and took another slow sip of wine.

"Agreed," Celine chimed in, her smile warm. "I just love the four of us hanging out like this. And the best part? We’ll get to keep this going when we're back in New York." She turned to Luigi. "Will you be staying with Liv, or what’s the plan when we get back?"

For a split second, you flinched. It hit you - you and Luigi hadn’t even discussed the logistics of moving back to New York together. Him being based in New York for the time being had been a given, considering everything still unfolding around him: the lingering legal entanglements, the need to stay close to your parents in the aftermath of the acquittal.

But the two of you, as a couple? That was an entirely different conversation - one that, until now, hadn’t even been brought up.

As if sensing your thoughts, Luigi’s hand found your thigh beneath the table, his touch firm, reassuring.

"Staying with Liv when we get back?" He smiled, his voice effortlessly smooth. "That would be everything I’ve ever wanted."

Your stomach fluttered at his words, a restless excitement stirring deep inside you. Just the thought of the two of you living together sent your emotions tumbling - exhilaration, anticipation, a warmth curling through your veins.

Being with him here, in Italy, was one thing, but imagining him woven into your everyday life back in New York made your heart swell.

You couldn’t wait to wake up beside him each morning, the soft rhythm of his breathing pulling you from sleep. Seeing him in your kitchen, brewing coffee or chopping vegetables for dinner. Cooking together after long workdays, laughing together, talking nonstop. His clothes hanging beside yours, the scent of him lingering in your apartment. Turning it into something warmer, something better.

You wanted all of it. You wanted him in your space, shaping it, brightening it - just as he did with every place he stepped into.

Celine’s face lit up. "Sorry if I put you on the spot," she said quickly. "But honestly, it’s just a reflection of how thrilled we are about you two. Also, me being completely filterless - but you should know that by now."

Ben chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Imagine the fun we’ll have now when Liv actually has a reasonable boyfriend." He turned to Celine, then back to you with a teasing glint in his eye. "I mean, your ex, Eric? That guy was such a fucking tool. Swear to God."

You let out a small laugh, shrugging. "Like I said earlier - an ex is an ex for a reason. And no, he wasn’t very bright, was he."

Ben grinned, raising his glass in a playful toast. “We just love the two of you together - no pressure, but if you could stay together forever, that would be great, okay?”

Luigi reached for your hand without hesitation, his fingers warm as they laced through yours. He pulled it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your skin, his hazel eyes never leaving yours.

“That won’t be a problem,” he murmured, his voice low and warm

Your stomach fluttered. By now, you had learned that Luigi had never been shy about his emotions, never hesitant to express love openly. But still, every time he did, it unraveled you. There was something so steady, safe and confident in the way he loved you - effortless, unguarded, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Celine and Ben watching, their faces alight with quiet delight. The warmth of their presence, their unwavering support, wrapped around you like a second layer of love.

It was one thing to be adored by Luigi, to feel the depth of his affection in everything he said and did - but knowing that your family saw it too, that they believed in it, in you, in him, in you together - it sent a swell of emotion rising in your chest.

You had to swallow hard to ground yourself in the moment.

Luigi took another slow sip of wine before setting his glass back down, his fingers never loosening from yours. His thumb brushed absently over your knuckles as he looked at you, something quiet and thoughtful flickering in his hazel eyes.

“When I travelled in Japan, I learned about this old saying,” he began, his voice low, intimate. “It describes a feeling that goes beyond the concept of love at first sight - something deeper, something inevitable.” He lifted your hand once more, pressing a gentle kiss to your skin before murmuring, ‘Anata no kaori wa hajimete de wa nakatta.’

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Excuse my Japanese - I probably butchered that one real bad.”

You smiled, your curiosity piqued. You had never heard him tell this story before.

“The first time I met Liv - the very first day your mom brought her in to see me,” he continued, his gaze searching yours, “this saying came to me instantly. It translates to something like, your scent was never unfamiliar. And that’s exactly how it felt.”

He exhaled, his voice laced with something raw. “Even in that god-awful jail setting, I had this overwhelming feeling that I already knew her. That meeting her was somehow inevitable. Like I had carried the scent of her with me long before we ever met.”

“Oh my god, Luigi,” Celine whispered, her hand flying to her mouth as she gasped. Across the table, Ben’s face softened into a warm smile.

Luigi’s fingers tightened around yours as he held your gaze. “It just felt like we recognized each other immediately,” he said, his voice dipping just slightly, as if the weight of his own words was settling over him. He paused, swallowing, his next words barely above a breath.

“Maybe we had known each other in another life, one where we hadn’t yet finished loving each other.”

Something inside you shattered and reformed all at once. The air between you felt electric, charged with the gravity of his words. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, cupping his face between your hands, pulling him in.

Your lips met his with a desperate, crashing intensity, and he responded instantly, his hand at the back of your head, holding you steady against him.

"Oh my god, that’s it." Celine shot up from her seat, tilting her head back as if trying to will away the tears brimming in her eyes. "I don’t know if it’s PMS or something, but good god, this has me emotional. I need a tissue."

She disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a box of tissues clutched in one hand, dabbing at her eyes with the other.

You finally broke away from Luigi, breathless, turning to your sister with an amused smirk. She looked utterly wrecked.

"You’ve been weirdly emotional lately, Cel," you teased. "Not like you at all. Maybe you're pregnant."

Celine froze mid-wipe, her expression instantly alarmed. "Fucking stop, Liv." She shot you a sharp look, shaking her head. "No one is getting pregnant before our wedding - absolutely no one. It’s stressful enough planning the damn thing without adding babies into the mix." She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes again.

Then, narrowing her gaze, she pointed a finger at you. "And you’re not getting pregnant either. Your bridesmaid dress is already fitted."

Her head snapped toward Luigi. "Luigi, you hear me? Can I trust you on this one?"

Luigi leaned back, smiling – under the table, his hand squeezed your thigh. "Yes, ma’am."

Ben chuckled to himself, shaking his head in amusement. "You do realize you're going to have to have kids someday, right? Imagine having the Luigi Mangione as you dad.”

Luigi let out a laugh, his cheeks tinged with warmth.

"I'm serious, man. Your dad lore is gonna go fucking insane.”

You pressed a quick kiss to Luigi’s cheek before breaking into laughter, the warmth of the moment settling between you.

Celine rose to her feet, reaching for another bottle of wine with a smirk.

"Well then," she announced, lifting the bottle. "Who wants to celebrate the fact that, at least for now, none of us are pregnant? More wine?"

Chapter Text

The next morning, you woke with an unmistakable ache twisting in your lower abdomen. Your period. Fuck.

With a sigh, you mustered the strength to leave the cocoon of warmth beneath the covers, reluctantly slipping away from Luigi’s chest. His steady breaths rose and fell beside you, dark lashes resting against his cheeks, blissfully unaware of your discomfort.

As you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, a dull throb pulsed at your temples - a lingering consequence of last night’s wine. Maybe those last few glasses had been a bit unnecessary, but Celine had been particularly persuasive, even for her.

The room was still dark, the only hint of morning seeping through the curtains was a muted, silvery light. Beyond the window, heavy clouds drifted in over the water, swelling with the promise of rain.

You remembered your dad mentioning something about a storm rolling in today. The thought was a welcome one - after all, not a single drop had fallen since you arrived, and the air had grown thick with heat.

Dragging yourself to the bathroom, you settled onto the toilet and reached for a paper towel, dabbing between your legs. There it was. Like clockwork, a very unwelcome visitor, the relentless cycle that never failed to irritate you. You exhaled sharply, pulling open the bottom drawer of the cabinet to retrieve a tampon. When you were done, you stood up and took a quick look in the mirror, slightly adjusting the straps on your camisole of your black matching satin pajama set.

When you walked back into the bedroom, Luigi was awake, his deep hazel eyes watching you with a sleepy, knowing warmth. A lazy smile curled at his lips.

“You’re up early,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. He stretched an arm toward you. “Come back here – I feel lonely.”

Without hesitation, you climbed back into bed, nestling into his embrace.

“I just got my period,” you sighed, resting your forehead against his chest. “That’s why I woke up. And I have some cramps. I think you have Advil in the nightstand - hold on.”

Shifting over him, you reached toward the drawer on his side. As you rummaged inside, Luigi’s hands found your hips, his fingers sliding down to give your ass a playful squeeze. You laughed, swatting at him half-heartedly.

“Got it,” you announced, retrieving two tablets. You grabbed the water bottle from the nightstand, popped the pills into your mouth, and took a slow sip.

“My poor baby,” Luigi cooed, his fingers tracing soft circles along your arm. “Does it hurt a lot?”

You shook your head, swallowing the last of the water. “Not really. Before I went on the pill, the cramps were unbearable, but now they’re pretty mild.” You flashed a teasing smile. “But if you want to take care of me anyway, I won’t stop you.”

Luigi chuckled, his grin turning wicked as he rolled you onto your back, pinning you against the bed.

“You know I always want to take care of you,” he whispered, his weight pressing into you.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses that sent shivers rippling through your body. He lingered at your collarbone, then drifted outward to your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to the sensation.

His hands found your waist, strong and steady, his fingertips pressing into your skin as if anchoring himself to you. For a moment, he simply looked at you, studying your face with something tender in his gaze.

“I love your pretty face,” he murmured. “Have I told you that before?”

A smile tugged at your lips. “You have,” you whispered back.

His mouth met yours in a slow, lingering kiss, the kind that radiated warmth through your entire body. A soft sigh escaped you as he pulled you closer.

He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, his lips brushing against your skin as he let out a low, contented growl.

“I love you so much,” he murmured, his voice husky. Then, with a playful smirk against your ear, he added, “I can’t wait until I’m the reason your period is late.”

You let out a startled laugh, tilting your head back to look at him. “Do you have a breeding kink or something?”

Still nestled against your neck, he hummed, his lips ghosting over your skin as he let out a soft, dramatic moan just to make you laugh. Then, suddenly, he pulled back, propping himself up on his arms as he gazed down at you, eyes glinting with amusement.

“I don’t know,” he mused. “Now that you mention it… maybe I do?”

You giggled, watching the way his dark brows furrowed slightly, as if this thought had never once crossed his mind before.

“I don’t remember ever feeling this way before,” he admitted. “But with you… something about imagining you having my kids just does something to me.”

He lowered himself onto you again, pressing playful kisses along your neck, his lips brushing over your skin in a way that made you squirm beneath him.

The sensation tickled, and you wriggled in protest, laughter spilling from your lips.

He smirked against your throat. “I have to confess… the thought of knocking you up does make me horny,” he murmured, his voice thick with teasing desire. “You make me realize new things about myself all the time, baby girl.”

He pressed himself against you, his weight warm and grounding, his breath hot against your skin. His hand trailed up your arm, fingers grazing your shoulder before slipping beneath the delicate strap of your camisole. Slowly, deliberately, he eased it down, his touch sending a ripple of anticipation through you. He rolled his hips into you slowly and you let out a moan.

“Can you feel how hard I get thinking about you having my babies?” he murmured against your ear, voice thick with desire.

His words sent a rush of heat spiraling through you. You couldn’t lie, there was something about him talking about getting you pregnant that really got you aroused too. The intimacy of his words, the promise in them, was igniting something deep in your core. There was something intoxicating about the thought of belonging to him in every way, of being claimed so completely.

You suddenly felt this overwhelming, feral need of having him come inside of you, and you silently cursed being on your period.

He slipped the other strap from your shoulder, leaning back just enough to take you in. His gaze darkened, a slow, lazy smile curling at the edges of his lips before he tugged your top lower, revealing your breast fully to him.

He exhaled sharply, his hunger palpable.

Then he dipped his head, his lips brushing over your skin before he took you in his mouth, teasing your nipple with the faintest scrape of teeth. A moan slipped from you as you arched into him, his other hand gliding up your waist, fingers curving possessively around your other breast.

Every touch, his hands on your skin, his lips and teeth on your nipple, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You pressed against him, chasing the delicious friction, the need within you growing insatiable.

“Luigi, baby” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair, skimming along the planes of his back. “Baby… this feels so good.”

Then he shifted, pressing a thigh in between yours, pushing up just enough to make you whimper. The pressure, the heat of him against your clit, combined with the slow, intoxicating rhythm of his mouth on your boob, left you breathless.

Extra sensitive being on your period, your body responded to him with a desperation that was impossible to control. The warmth building inside you was relentless, a slow burn turning into an inferno.

And he knew it.

His lips curved against your skin as he held you closer, as if he had all the time in the world to unravel you.

He rolled his hips into you again, slow and deliberate, his thigh pressing even closer, the friction sending a shudder through your body. Your breath hitched, turning uneven as the sensation took hold, winding tighter with every movement.

One of his hands slid beneath you, fingers curving around your ass as he lifted you slightly, adjusting the angle of his thigh against your clit - deeper, closer, more. The pressure, the heat, the steady rhythm of his body against yours had you teetering on the edge almost instantly.

“Fuck baby,” you gasped, your voice breaking on a moan. “You’re going to make me come just like this.”

His lips brushed against your ear, his grin unmistakable. “That’s the plan,” he murmured, keeping his pace unwavering, relentless.

Your head fell back against the pillow, surrendering to the pleasure as it overtook you, swift and overwhelming. Your orgasm crashed through you like a wave, thighs shaking as your legs wrapped tighter around him.

And just as the pleasure crested, he sealed his mouth over your nipple sucking it, intensifying everything until your body trembled beneath him.

Only when he felt you relax, your limbs going languid, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, did he finally ease away. You lay there, eyes still closed, a lazy smile curving your lips, your body humming with the aftershocks.

He pressed a trail of soft kisses along your collarbone, his voice low, teasing.

“Did that feel good, baby?”

You let out a slow, contented sigh. “It did.”

He chuckled, his fingers tracing lazy circles over your thigh, his touch warm and soothing.

“You’re so cute,” he murmured, amusement laced in his voice.

You opened your eyes to find him propped up on his elbow beside you, watching you with that familiar, adoring gaze. Then he flashed one of his signature smiles - wide, bright, effortlessly disarming.

“What?” he asked, his grin softening as he studied you.

You smiled, your heart swelling.

“I’m just so fucking lucky. I can’t believe it.”

His expression shifted, something tender flickering in his eyes before he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was slow at first, deliberate, as if he wanted to savor the moment. You cupped his cheek, your thumb tracing along the rough edge of his stubble, and when his tongue met yours, he pressed closer, deepening the kiss.

He pulled away just enough to meet your gaze again, his eyes lingering on yours. Then, with an easy grin, he said, “Time for breakfast, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden shift, the way his mind effortlessly pivoted from making out with you to food. Very on brand for him.

“Of course,” you teased, shaking your head. “I should’ve known you were already thinking about your next meal.”

He just smirked, unapologetic.

“Go on,” you added, nudging him playfully. “I just need to run to the bathroom real quick. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

With a final glance, he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before rolling off the bed, already on his way to satisfy his second greatest craving.

You smiled to yourself before slipping out of bed, still feeling the warmth of him lingering on your skin.

…

When you came downstairs, Luigi was perched on one of the stools at the kitchen island beside your dad. He had thrown on a gray hoodie and a pair of black shorts. You loved the way he looked when he dressed sharp, crisp button-downs and neatly styled hair - but there was something about him like this, cozy and tousled, curls a little messy, lazily hunched over a bowl of cereal, that made your heart ache in the sweetest way.

He looked so fucking cute.

You walked over, and without a word, he reached out, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in close, still eating with his other hand. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” your dad greeted with a warm smile. “I hear you had quite the night last night. Ben really put that pizza oven to work, didn’t he? Even our esteemed Italian house guest gave his approval.” He nudged Luigi playfully in the side.

“Yeah,” you murmured, running your fingers through Luigi’s curls. “He really outdid himself.”

A low rumble echoed outside, making the windows tremble. Your dad turned toward the glass, nodding toward the horizon.

“Oh, it’s coming,” he mused, pointing out over the water. “Looks like it’ll be raining all day. Big thunderstorm rolling in. I think we better stay inside today.”

The pale light that had managed to push through the clouds was quickly swallowed as the sky darkened, heavy storm clouds surging in, swallowing the day.

Luigi glanced outside, watching the shifting sky for a moment before turning back to you, his lips curling into a lazy, knowing smile.

“A perfect day,” he murmured, “for staying in bed.”

Chapter Text

With Celine and Ben still fast asleep, you and Luigi retreated to your bedroom after having breakfast with your dad, eager to slip beneath the covers again and lose yourselves in a movie. Just as you stepped inside the room, the sky split open outside, and a sudden downpour crashed against the balcony, drumming hard against the glass.

You wandered over to the balcony doors, pulling them close but leaving a small gap, just enough to let in the crisp scent of rain. You inhaled deeply, the earthy freshness filling your lungs, before turning to your desk and reaching for the lighter.

Lighting candles in the middle of the day wasn’t something you typically did here, but this stormy, moody weather called for it.

One by one, you lit the candles on your desk and the shelf above it, their soft golden glow swaying against the dim walls, filling the space with warmth. The storm rumbled outside, a steady backdrop of rain against the glass.

When you turned around, Luigi had already made himself comfortable, sprawled across the bed, lazily scrolling through movie options on the TV. One leg bent at the knee, the other stretched out, an arm tucked beneath his head. His hoodie had ridden up slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of his flat stomach and tanned skin between the hem of his sweater and the waistband of his shorts.

God, why was that little glimpse of skin so devastatingly attractive?

You swallowed, heat curling low in your stomach. You were absolutely feral for this man.

You forced yourself to behave, steadying your breath as you settled beside him on the bed, determined to focus on the TV rather than his perfection of a body.

“Maybe we should just watch something animated,” he mused, switching apps to Disney. As he scrolled through the recommendations, your eyes landed on Big Hero 6, one of your old favorite movies from years past.

“Have you seen that one?”

He hesitated. “This? Big Hero 6? I don’t think so.”

“It’s adorable. I think you’ll like it - it’s about robots.” You shot him a playful wink, earning a warm chuckle in response.

“Alright, let’s give it a try. Let’s just hope it doesn’t stir up too many traumatic memories of my failed robotics projects.”

You laughed, then hesitated as a thought surfaced. “It’s been a while since I last watched it,” you admitted, just before Luigi could press play. “But you actually remind me of one of the characters - Tadashi Hamada, the older brother. Well, you’re not a big brother, but… he’s kind. Caring. Safe. Just like you.”

Luigi set the remote down beside him, his expression shifting as a distant thought took hold.

“Sometimes I actually wish I had been a big brother,” he murmured. “Maybe had one or two younger siblings. I think it would’ve been good for me.”

“Really? I always thought being the youngest was like winning the lottery - getting away with everything, having everyone take care of you. As a middle child, that was always my dream.”

Luigi chuckled.

“Yeah, there was definitely some of that, growing up with two older sisters. But I think part of why I have this urge for kids of my own is because… I feel this need to take care of someone, to be grounded in what truly matters. I feel like just having myself to care for easily get my mind to spiral into being too self-absorbed, overanalyzing life.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You must have really been the baby of the family, though, being so much younger than your sisters?”

“I was,” he admitted, a quiet weight in his voice. “And I don’t know if that was always a good thing.”

You hesitated, sensing the shift in the air. His family had always been a sensitive subject, and the last thing you wanted was to push him before he was ready. You wanted to give him space enough to open up at his own pace.

Still, after a moment of silence, you asked softly, “What do you mean?”

He exhaled, his gaze flickering toward the TV before settling somewhere distant.

“My sisters were like two extra moms, always looking out for me, always putting me first. And my dad - he really wanted a son. So, when they finally had me, all the attention shifted my way. But with that came expectations.”

His voice was even, but there was something beneath it, something unresolved.

“I didn’t mind it,” he continued, almost as if convincing himself. “At least, not when my goals aligned with my parents.”

”Throughout school, I met and exceeded their expectations - every achievement was acknowledged, every success rewarded. But when I began questioning things, searching for a purpose beyond the path laid out for me, my parents weren’t ready for that conversation. I think it scared them.”

“How so?”

“They pulled away,” he said, voice quieter now. “Not outright, but in ways I couldn’t ignore. They made sure I knew they weren’t happy with the choices I was making for myself. Graduating, choosing work that gave me freedom and time rather than chasing the ambitious career they - and, honestly, everyone around me - had expected.”

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve always been someone who looks for answers, for reasons. I needed purpose. I needed to understand why I was here, what I was supposed to be doing. Making sense of life. Making sense of something that, I realize now, maybe doesn’t need to make sense”.

You watched him carefully, the weight of his words settling between you. “What happened when you tried talking to them about it?”

He let out a soft, almost humorless laugh. “They have their way of handling things. And discussions like that? They never led anywhere. It only fed my frustration - made me feel strange, out of place. Like I was wrong for even asking, bringing it up. Bothering everyone.”

“Relationships with parents are strange, aren’t they?” He continued, his voice soft, almost contemplative. “It’s this constant push and pull - I want to get away from you, but I feel safe with you. I want to run, but I still want your hugs. I wish you understood me. I wish I understood you.”

A shiver ran down your arms. He had never spoken about his parents like this before. It felt like a door unlocking, granting you access to a part of him you had never truly seen.

“I didn’t understand them,” he continued, his gaze distant. “And they sure as hell didn’t understand me. Whenever I made choices that didn’t fit the version of me, they had in their heads, they panicked. And they punished me for it. Not in obvious ways, but they always knew exactly what to do to make me back down.”

“That’s the thing about family unfortunately,” you murmured. “They know exactly where it hurts the most.”

He let out a slow breath, nodding. “Eventually, I decided to put distance between us. Not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t know what else to do. And they… they just let me. I don’t think they knew what to do either.” A bitter smile flickered across his lips. “We’re probably more alike than I like to admit.”

His fingers traced the hem of his sleeve absentmindedly. “I have my father’s nose… and his tendency to stop calling back.” He let out a short, hollow laugh, but the sadness that followed lingered longer than his smile.

“I should probably apologize to him as well one day,” he murmured. “It’s true my dad stopped hugging me… but what I never say is the other part - I stopped hugging him too.”

Your heart clenched. A wave of overwhelming sadness washed over you, raw and unstoppable. You wanted, more than anything, to take away every ounce of pain he had ever felt.

“I pulled away from them,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “One step at a time. Took a job in another city. Moved to another state. Kept putting more and more distance between us. Until, eventually I decided to just… disappear.”

Your pulse quickened. He had never spoken about this in detail before with you. You could feel the weight of his words, the spaces between them heavy with everything left unsaid.

You wanted to ask, to understand, to bridge the gaps in his story - but you held back. Instead, you waited, heart pounding, willing him to continue.

“I understand now that I disappeared because I wasn’t well,” he admitted, his voice low, almost fragile. “It was an act of desperation, of not knowing any other way out of a situation I couldn’t bear.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. He was letting you in, exposing the rawest, most heartbreaking parts of his past, and the weight of it settled over you, almost suffocating in its intensity.

“During this time, my life felt like nothing but a string of regrets, of wrong choices and irreversible mistakes. Every step I took seemed to lead me further from where I wanted to be. And I was terrified that this - this version of me - was all I would ever become.” He exhaled shakily.

“My life was always planned out… but never by me. I had no idea where I was going. I just knew where I didn’t want to be.”

He paused, his eyes dark with something distant, something painful. “I didn’t want to spend my whole life running, as it ultimately just caused me more suffering. But how to stop that seemed impossible to figure out – I just felt it in my soul that punishing myself wouldn’t fix anything. I knew that, but still… I just couldn’t break free from that viscous cycle of pushing myself away from everyone, everything.”

With a quiet sigh, he let his head fall back against the pillow, draping his hands over his face as if shielding himself from the weight of his own words. Without thinking, you traced slow, comforting strokes along his stomach, grounding him in the present, in you.

Then, suddenly, you felt it - the slight tremor beneath your palm, the way his muscles tensed, twitched.

And then, a silent sob.

Your stomach dropped.

“I -” He sniffled, shaking his head as if confused by his own reaction. “I don’t… I don’t know why I’m crying.” Another sob broke free, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths.

“Because it hurts,” you murmured, your touch gentle, steady. You didn’t rush him, didn’t try to fill the silence. You just stayed, tracing soft, reassuring circles over his skin, letting him take his time, letting him feel.

His sobs deepened, shaking his frame as they came in harder.

You shifted on the bed, sitting up a little straighter, propping yourself against the headboard with pillows. "Come here," you whispered.

He hesitated only a moment before curling into you, pressing himself against the warmth of your body, his head finding its place against your chest. He exhaled a trembling sigh, his arm wrapping around you as though anchoring himself.

Your fingers moved over his strong back in slow, steady strokes, soothing, grounding. With your other hand, you traced the rough line of his stubble, letting your fingers softly whisper over his skin. Then, gently, you pressed a kiss on top of his head.

His sobs came softer now, but still, they came. You held him through them, murmuring into his curls, "I love you, baby. Okay? I love you so much."

For a long time, he just lay there, nestled against you, surrendering to the quiet of your presence. He let himself be held, let himself be cared for in his most vulnerable form – seeking your comfort. And as you cradled him, a realization settled deep in your chest - this fierce, unwavering need to protect him, to shield him from a world that had left him raw and aching.

When his breathing finally evened out, he spoke again, his voice small, hesitant.

"There’s so much I want to tell you", he said. "About those months. About what really happened. About how I felt." He paused, his fingers twitching against your side. "But I’m scared. I’m scared it’ll change the way you see me."

You tightened your arms around him, holding him closer.

"I love all of you," you murmured. "Even the parts I don’t understand yet. And no one deserves that more than you. You deserve to be loved without hiding the pieces of yourself you think are unlovable."

A slow, shuddering sigh escaped him.

"I’ve kept so much locked away," he admitted. "But with you… it’s different." His voice softened. "For the first time, I want to talk about it."

"You can put your strength down. I’m here with you”, you whispered. "You don’t have to say anything before you’re ready. But when you are, let’s find a way to talk about it together, okay? To care for your wounds without reopening them. To name the pain without inviting it back in."

You exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Would you endure it, if I endured it with you? Just tell me, and we’ll find a way, I promise you.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just breathed. Just stayed.

"You don’t have to hold it all by yourself," you whispered. " I can’t make the load less heavy, but I can help you carry it."

He swallowed hard.

"I don’t want to put that on you," he said slowly, hesitant.

"It’s not a burden," you murmured. "Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Shifting slightly, you slid down until your face aligned with his, your warmth wrapping around him as you drew him closer. His eyes, still glistening with unshed tears, met yours - hazel depths flickering with something unreadable, something raw, something pleading.

“You are beautiful because you let yourself feel,” you whispered. “And that’s a brave thing, you know?”

Gently, you let your fingertips brush against his chin, coaxing him to stay with you, to let you keep holding him.

“In this space right here that we have created together, you and me - you can say anything, and I will not abandon you.” Your voice was steady, unwavering, a promise woven into each syllable.

His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling in uneven waves. His gaze faltered for the briefest moment before returning to yours, searching, testing.

"Unwrap the worst things you’ve done," you murmured, your touch still featherlight against his skin. "And watch me hold them up to the light and not even flinch.”

Chapter Text

As the closing credits of Big Hero 6 scrolled across the TV screen, you turned to Luigi, laying beside you on the bed, fingers intertwined with yours. Tilting your head up to look at him, you grinned.

"Wasn't it adorable? It was just as good as I remembered."

Luigi propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze thoughtful. "Yeah, it was really sweet. But honestly, I couldn't stop thinking about the power source."

You blinked. "The power source?"

"Yeah," he said, shifting slightly towards you. "Baymax runs continuously, without ever recharging, no visible power port, no maintenance cycle, nothing. A robot that size, performing high-level diagnostics, real-time emotional analytics, autonomous navigation, and physical caregiving?” he shook his head.

“That would require an insane amount of energy. Like, next-generation solid-state batteries at a minimum. And even then, he’d need to be plugged in every few hours. Unless he’s running on a miniaturized fusion reactor, which - spoiler alert - we haven’t invented yet.”

You smiled, but he was too deep in thought to notice.

"And don't even get me started on the microbots," he scoffed, running a hand through his hair.

"Like, yes, swarm robotics is one thing - Harvard’s been doing some cool stuff with Kilobots and MIT’s got their programmable matter projects - but that’s all controlled via centralized programming or local rule-based algorithms. In no universe are we controlling hundreds of thousands of microscopic bots with a neural headband.” Luigi was getting worked up, clearly annoyed at the betrayal of science in a kids’ movie.

“Brain-computer interfaces are barely at the point where they can move a cursor reliably. It's just - completely unrealistic."

Laughing, you gave him a playful shove, making him fall back onto the pillows. "God, sometimes I forget what a fucking nerd you are."

Outside, the rain hadn’t let up. It still beat steadily against the windows in an endless downpour, a soft, insistent percussion. Low rumbles rolled across the sky, growing louder - thunder was definitely on its way.

Downstairs, you heard voices clashing  - your family arguing again, though the exact topic was impossible to make out. You stretched out across the bed, the bedding cool beneath your fingertips.

“Wanna head down for a bit?” you murmured, looking over at Luigi next to you. “And I can’t believe I’m saying this before you did, but I’m actually kind of hungry.”

Luigi leaned over and caught your face in his hands, planting a quick kiss on your lips.

“I’ve got you,” he said.

He rolled out of bed, circling around to your side and offering his hand. You took it, letting him pull you to your feet. As you stood, he wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in the curve of your neck. He inhaled deeply, his breath warm against your skin, his fingers curling gently into your back.

You stroked the space between his shoulders. “How are you feeling, baby?” you whispered.

“I’m feeling better,” he said softly. “Thanks to you.”

You pressed closer, the weight of him grounding you, warm and familiar. After a quiet moment, he pulled back, just enough to find your hand again.

“Come on,” he said with a gentle smile. “Let’s get you fed.”

Downstairs, the family chaos had resumed. Your dad was stretched across the living room sofa, remote in hand, eyes glued to the TV. Ben sat beside him, visibly agitated, his hands gesturing midair in frustration.

“I can’t keep having this conversation with you, Marc,” Ben said, exasperated. “I have nothing against Jennifer Garner as an actress? I don’t know why you keep pushing that narrative. I just wish she made better movies. I can’t sit through another 13 Going on 30 or Yes Day just because you think she’s hot.”

Your dad looked unbothered, his expression one of serene defiance. “So, you’re saying you didn’t enjoy Family Switch? Or that Ghosts of Girlfriends Past was a bad movie?”

Ben stared at him, stunned. His gaze flicked to you and Luigi as if searching for backup, then back to your dad, his arms flinging wide in disbelief.

“Yeah, Marc - that’s exactly what I’m saying!”

You let out a light laugh. “Trying to agree on a movie again?”

Celine emerged from the kitchen, looking like she'd been through a minor war - her expression was one of long-suffering patience.

“They’ve been at it for thirty minutes,” she sighed. “I told them they’ve got five more, then I’m making the executive decision and we’re watching something with Channing Tatum. No further negotiations.”

Luigi chuckled as he strolled past Celine, heading toward the kitchen.

“Liv’s hungry,” he said over his shoulder, already opening cupboards. “I’m throwing together some Aglio e Olio. Anyone else want in?”

Celine perked up instantly, clapping her hands together like a child offered candy. “Oh my god, that would be amazing. Mom’s just finishing a call, but I know she’ll want some too. And those two morons…” She nodded toward Ben and your dad, still deep in heated debate on the couch.

“Hey, dipshits,” she called out, raising her voice slightly. Both heads swiveled in her direction. “Want some of Luigi’s legendary pasta? Maybe take a break from your Jennifer Garner TED Talk for a bit dad?”

Ben exchanged a glance with your dad, and after a brief pause, both of them raised their hands in surrender.

“Truce,” your dad said solemnly.

“But only until lunch is over,” Ben added, narrowing his eyes.

As Luigi got to work in the kitchen, gliding between pans like it was second nature, you and Celine moved around him, setting the table. The scent of garlic and olive oil soon filled the air, rich and comforting and you felt your stomach growl in anticipation.

Your mom made her way into the kitchen, phone still in hand, just as the rich scent drifted through the air. She paused in the doorway, inhaling deeply.

“Mmm,” she sighed with a smile. “It smells incredible in here. Luigi, are you making lunch for all of us?”

“I am,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. “Hope you’re in the mood for spaghetti.”

“I sure am,” she replied warmly, crossing the room to stand beside him. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, her expression soft with appreciation. “Thank you, sweetheart. You take such good care of us.”

He returned her smile with quiet affection, and, as always, your heart lifted at the sight of them. There was something effortlessly soothing about the way they interacted - like two people who had always known how to match each other’s energy, their kindness flowing in mirrored waves.

She slid onto one of the stools at the kitchen island, settling in close to where Luigi stood, his hands deftly moving between pans and cutting boards as he put the final touches on lunch.

“I actually have a question for you, honey,” she said casually, still tapping around on her phone screen. “I just got off the phone with Giulia Ricci - you know how we’re going to their oldest daughter’s wedding this weekend?”

Luigi nodded, not looking up but clearly listening as he stirred the pasta. ”Sure. Isabella, right?”

“Well,” your mom began, glancing up at you with a mixture of guilt and mischief as you moved to place a basket of warm bread on the table. “Don’t be mad at me, okay? But I might have let it slip to Giulia that you two are… well, more than just friends.”

Her voice lilted at the end, almost hopeful. Luigi turned briefly, offering a small, understanding smile before returning his focus to the stove.

You let out a slow exhale, tilting your head as you looked at her. “Don’t you think that was maybe a bit soon to be broadcasting to the Ricci’s?”

“I know, I know,” she said quickly, placing her phone down and holding out a hand as if in surrender. “But I just got excited. Can you blame me?”

You reached out, letting her pull you into a warm embrace. There was no real frustration behind your words.

“Anyway,” she continued, her voice brightening, “Giulia was besides herself with excitement at the news. She practically begged me to ask if you, Luigi, would want to come to the wedding on Saturday too. It’s very small, just close friends and family - no pressure at all, and no one will make a fuss over you being there.”

She leaned forward a little, her eyes flicking between the two of you, brimming with hopeful anticipation. “She said it would mean so much. What do you think?”

You remained quiet, your gaze shifting toward Luigi. You didn’t want to speak for him - if this wasn’t a step he felt ready to take, wasn’t comfortable with, you would understand. But still - your heart pounded against your ribs.

The thought unfurled in your mind like a scene from a movie, you couldn’t imagine a more romantic way to spend a Saturday. An Italian wedding in the middle of summer, laughter echoing beneath strings of lights, soft music floating through the air. You in a beautiful dress and Luigi beside you in a tailored suit, his hand steady in yours - as your first official outing as a couple.

He hadn’t said a word yet, his back still turned as he carefully plated the pasta onto a wide ceramic dish, steam rising in gentle curls. The silence felt like a held breath. Your stomach tightened with anticipation.

Please say yes.

Please.

Then he turned. A quiet smile played on his lips as he set the platter down in front of you and your mother, the scent of garlic and olive oil wafting up between you before he spoke. “Of course I’ll come to the wedding with you”.

…

During lunch, your mom and dad laid out the plan for the next day. Your dad was heading into Pisa for the day, and Luigi were coming with him. The trip had already been on the schedule - your dad had forgotten his dress shoes back home, and he needed replacements before the wedding. Now, with Luigi officially joining you for the big day, it made sense to find him a suit while they were there.

Just as everyone finished eating, a loud crack of thunder slammed through the house, so loud and sharp it rattled the windows in their frames, followed by a pulse of lightning flashing through the room.

“Oh my god, that’s intense,” Celine gasped, half-laughing, half-startled, gripping the edge of the table.

The storm had hit with full force. Luigi twisted in his chair to face the gulf outside, watching as dark clouds curled across the sky like smoke in fast-forward. Another flash illuminated the water, silver and churning, followed by another deep, echoing boom. He looked entranced.

“This is absolutely beautiful,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the chaos outside.

Your dad moved to the sliding doors, pulling them shut tighter as rain started to blow in across the floor. He turned back toward the table, where no one had moved - everyone still full and slightly dazed from the food.

“Well,” he said, clapping his hands once and rubbing them together, “shall we shift to the couch and put on a movie while we digest? I believe we had come to an agreement on what to watch right before we ate… isn’t that right, Ben?”

Ben scoffed, already bracing for another round of the argument. “We definitely did not.”

Celine sighed. “Fuck, they’re back at it. Luigi, Liv - go chill on the couch. We’ll clean up.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your limbs felt like lead, pleasantly heavy with food and warmth. You crossed to the living room and collapsed into the couch, grabbing the nearest blanket and throwing it over yourself.

Luigi followed close behind, curling up beside you, and you lifted the blanket wordlessly to let him in. He slid beneath it, his body warm against yours, and with the storm dancing just beyond the glass, the two of you melted into the cushions, cocooned in quiet comfort.

You shifted slightly, leaning to the side just enough to let him spoon you from behind. His arms came around you instinctively, fitting the shape of you like they always did. The rest of the space was alive with movement - your mom and Celine clinking dishes in the kitchen, Ben and your dad still mid-argument - but here, in between the blankets and the closeness, everything else faded away.

You tilted your head back toward him and spoke quietly, just loud enough for him to hear.
“Thank you.”

He looked puzzled. “For the lunch? You already said that” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “But you’re welcome.”

You shook your head gently. “No… for earlier. For talking to me.”

His expression shifted, the teasing falling away, and he looked at you with quiet focus.

“It just had me feeling this… strange ache,” you said, keeping your voice low. “Like I wish I had known you when we were kids, when we were younger.” You paused for a brief moment.

“What if we’d grown up just a few houses apart? I keep thinking about all the times I could’ve been there for you, when things were hard. What if I could have held your hand when you were scared?”

Luigi let out a soft, surprised laugh, then wrapped his arms tighter around you, pressing you closer against his chest.

“I know it’s probably a super weird thing to say,” you continued, your smile soft. “I know you now and maybe that’s all that matters but God I’ve wished I knew you when we were kids. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you were little.”

He leaned in and kissed you, slow and tender, not rushing the moment. His lips stayed pressed to yours, like he wanted to say everything without speaking. When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours, and for a moment, neither of you said a word.

The emotion rose in your throat so fast it almost caught you off guard. That fierce, quiet love - the kind that wanted to go backward in time, to protect him even before you knew him. Your chest tightened, and you felt the sting of tears gathering behind your eyes.

“I just wish I could hold the younger version of you,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. “I wish I could comfort little Luigi.”

He reached up and gently brushed his fingers along your jaw, slow and steady, grounding you. A soft smile touched his lips.

“I think, in some way,” he murmured, “you already are.”

Chapter Text

The argument between Ben and your dad had, as expected, resolved absolutely nothing. And true to her threat, Celine had taken control of the TV remote, enforcing her decision with the merciless authority of a dictator. And now you were all here - crammed together on the couch, watching the opening credits of Magic Mike’s Last Dance roll across the screen.

It was… a lot.

You stole a glance at your mom, who seemed utterly unfazed, contentedly munching popcorn, clearly oblivious to what kind of film she’d just signed up for. Your dad lay beside her, every bit as enthusiastic, his eyes glued to the screen.

Ben caught your gaze from the other end of the couch, his expression one of sheer disbelief. He rolled his eyes dramatically. Celine, ever committed, nudged him sharply in the ribs.

“Focus, Ben,” she whispered. “It’s no fun if you’re not paying attention.”

Luigi, bless him, was doing his best to be polite - sitting upright, hands folded, eyes trained on the screen with a soft, open expression that somehow made the whole thing even more comical.

It was just no way you could do this. It was already getting awkward, and you knew it was only going to get worse.

You leaned toward Luigi and muttered under your breath, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

He blinked, startled. “Oh? Okay?”

“We’re leaving,” you announced to your family, standing up abruptly.

Celine didn’t even look away from the screen. “Fine. Go. You don’t have to disturb those of us who are trying to enjoy a high-quality movie.”

Ben caught your eye again and silently mouthed, Help me, as you took Luigi’s hand and headed to the stairs.

You couldn’t help but laugh, flashing him a small wave of sympathy as you escaped up your room, leaving him to his fate.

Once inside your room, you shut the door behind you with a quiet thud, the muffled sounds of the movie downstairs fading instantly.

“Are you sure that wasn’t rude?” Luigi asked, a flicker of concern in his expression.

You shrugged with a small smile. “Then maybe it was.”

You stepped closer to him, backing him gently toward the desk until he came to rest against it, his hands naturally bracing behind him. You pressed your body into his, the tension between you igniting with familiar ease.

“Besides, I’ve been missing touching you,” you murmured, your voice soft but certain.

He looked down at you with a crooked smile, amused and intrigued. “You have?”

“I have,” you whispered again, your fingers slipping underneath the hem of his hoodie. His skin was warm and smooth beneath your touch, the defined lines of his abs shifting slightly under your slow caress. You slid your hands higher, over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, the soft catch of his breath.

His eyes darkened slightly, a low sound escaping his throat as he leaned his head back just a little, inviting more.

You smiled at the reaction, your own body already responding, desire coiling low in your belly.

“With the rest of the family distracted downstairs by a stripper movie for the next two hours,” you said, your voice a little breathier now, “we’ve actually got a rare window of uninterrupted time for me to take care of you…”

He leaned forward then, brushing his lips against yours in a silent answer, the room around you fading as the moment deepened.

His breath caught as your fingers slid lower, tracing the defined edges of his V-line with deliberate care. A quiet, ragged exhale escaped him as you reached the waistband of his shorts, fingertips slipping just beneath the fabric, drawing a slow line along his skin.

With a sudden, eager movement, he grabbed your ass and pulled you flush against him, and you felt how hard he was already, pressing his warm length into your stomach, heat radiating through the thin barrier of his shorts.

“You know…” you murmured, your voice a low tease, “there’s only so long I can be this close to your dick and not touch it.”

He gave you a crooked smile, one brow lifting. “Is that so?”

His hands slid beneath your shirt, fingers gliding along your spine in a warm, exploratory path before he found the hem and lifted it slowly over your head, leaving you in just your cut off denim shorts and your underwear. He tossed your shirt aside, eyes lingering on the contrast of your soft skin and the black lace of your bra, the edges delicate and sheer.

A grin tugged at his lips as his palms cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples through the thin fabric. “Well, this was sexy…” he murmured appreciatively, “this stays on.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on yours - hungry, heated. His tongue pressed past your lips, claiming you with a moan that sent a spark straight down your spine.

Still kissing him, you shifted the rhythm, guiding him gently away from the desk. You turned him, backing him toward the bed. He went willingly, and when you reached for his hoodie, he raised his arms, letting you pull it off him.

The sweater slid away, revealing the smooth, sculpted lines of his torso. He drew in a steadying breath, standing before you now in only his shorts, every inch of him stunning.

You placed a hand lightly on his chest and gave a playful push. He let himself fall back onto the bed, arms braced behind him, eyes locked on you.

You didn’t look away.

Instead, you sank slowly to your knees between his parted legs, placing yourself deliberately in front of him. The shift in his expression was immediate - his breath caught, eyes darkened, lips parting just slightly. He leaned back on his hands, his gaze fixed to yours with an intensity that made your pulse thrum.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” you asked, your voice a soft tease as your hands slipped upwards underneath the fabric of his shorts, nails grazing the firm muscles of his thighs. He tensed beneath your touch, the reaction subtle but unmistakable.

A low, rough sound escaped him - a mix between a breath and a laugh - as he tilted his head back slightly, eyes hooded. “Tell me,” he murmured, voice dark and lazy. “What’s been occupying that beautiful mind of yours, my gorgeous girl?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, your expression deliberately innocent - wide-eyed, sweet, the perfect contrast to the way your fingers began their slow retreat, drifting up toward his stomach again. You could feel the heat of him, his breath growing shallow beneath your touch.

Your fingertips lingered at the edge of his waistband, playing with it idly, as if you weren’t already driving him to the edge with your pace, your voice, your gaze.

“I’ve been thinking,” you whispered, your voice low and laced with heat, ”about what it would feel like to have you come in my mouth.”

Luigi’s breath caught sharply, the sudden hitch in his chest betraying how your bluntness caught him off guard - unexpected and electric. You caught the flicker in his gaze, the flash of disbelief chased instantly by something darker, deeper. Hunger. Need. Mission accomplished.

“Liv…” he exhaled, letting out a short, dark laugh. “Fuck.”

You didn’t say another word - just let a slow, knowing smile curve across your lips as you dropped your gaze. Your fingers moved with purpose, hooking into both the waistband of his shorts and the soft cotton of his boxer’s underneath.

He lifted his hips without hesitation, a shiver running through him as you pulled the fabric down in one smooth, practiced motion. The clothes hit the floor in a heap, and there he was - completely naked before you, seated on the edge of the bed, breath shallow, abs tensing with anticipation. And an erection that made your breath hitch.

For a second, you just looked at him, took him in. The sight of him unraveled something deep inside you. He was so fucking gorgeous. You swallowed hard, steadying yourself, grounding the storm in your chest with a few quiet breaths.

Then your gaze drifted down, focus shifting to what was right in front of you - his big, beautiful, perfect dick. Having it right in front of your face like this, made you realize exactly how huge he was, and it caught you off guard - a flicker of nerves mingling with the anticipation thrumming through your veins. You had never had anything close to this size in your mouth before.

You steadied yourself with your hands on his hips, lowering your lips to his skin. Featherlight kisses traced along the inside of his thighs, and the sound of his soft, shaky moan told you everything you needed to know. He was already on edge, already waiting for more, his hard dick twitching in anticipation as you moved in closer.

A smile curved your lips as you brushed your cheek against him, then wrapped your fingers gently around him, gripping the base of his dick. His girth made it impossible for your hand to fully close around him, and your thumb traced the prominent vein that rested on the underside of it and Luigi let out a deep growl as your breath brushed his tip.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed, his voice raw. “Just having you touch me like this feels so fucking good”.

You cut him off with a soft laugh, teasing, “Just wait until you’re in my mouth.”

You started off slow, teasing – your tongue trailing a single, deliberate line up the underside of his length, from his very base up to the tip.  As you let your tongue slide along, you took in his impressive size.

The taste of him made your head spin. He tasted so fucking good, better than you had imagined - warm and salty.

You glanced up just in time to see his expression shift,  his eyes flutter close, a low groan escaping him – his hips twitching underneath you. He was coming undone, and you’d barely started.

You let out a sigh. The sight of him like this, flustered underneath your touch – it was just so fucking hot.

You shifted your position slightly, holding him steady with one hand as you slowly and deliberately let your tongue swirl around his tip, in small teasing circles. Then you parted your lips slightly and slowly pulled the wide head of his dick inside of your warm, wet mouth – finally wrapping yourself around him.

The sound that tore from Luigi’s throat was unlike anything you'd ever heard from him before - raw and unrestrained, a guttural groan that vibrated with a kind of primal satisfaction. It sent a wave of heat down your spine, your body instinctively responding to the way his pleasure sounded when it was pulled from somewhere deep within him.

You smiled around him, lips tightening in response, taking him in further, slower, letting the moment stretch and burn.

You kept swirling your tongue around the head and along the underside of him, teasing, tasting. You traced every vein and ridge of his gorgeous dick, changing up the rhythm from deliberately slow, to faster more purposeful movements - all with practiced control.

You couldn’t think of anything more arousing than having him just like this, the intimacy of him in your mouth, the rhythm you found together – it made your pulse pound in every part of you, and you felt the intensifying throbbing between your legs.

Luigi slid his hand to the back of your head as he was gasping, hands finding your hair, fingers curling as he tried to anchor himself - his hips tensing as he tried to keep his movements under control.

Every sound he made, every subtle shift of his body, made you want to pull more of that pleasure from him, to keep unraveling him bit by bit with the warmth of your mouth and the deliberate rhythm of your movements.

You flattened out your tongue to run it along the length of him again, and he twitched in your mouth as you took him deeper.

“You look so fucking amazing like this” he groaned, looking down at you, one hand in your hair and one behind him on the bed, steadying himself. “So beautiful with my dick in your mouth”.

You moaned in response and took him deeper, your mouth moving along his shaft, pushing a little further each time, relaxing your throat, feeling his big dick pulsing.

“Holy fucking shit” he moaned as his hips started moving, and you let him take control of the pace. He thrusted into your mouth, and the feeling of him controlling you like this was intoxicating.

Your own need grew nothing less of unbearable, and you could feel your clit throbbing. Your free hand found its way down, sliding beneath the waistband of your soaked lace panties. As you finally let your fingers circle your clit, moving slowly along your wet folds, you let a moan escape you that vibrated against Luigis length.

He noticed.

“Are you… touching yourself?” His voice trailed off into a guttural sound. “Good god, Liv…”

You didn’t answer – you just met his hungry hazel eyes, your mouth still working him and your free hand now braced on his thigh, moaning as you let your fingers continue to move between your legs. He stared at you like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, chest heaving, jaw clenched. He let his head fall back again with a low laugh.

“Fucking hell…There’s no way I’m lasting any longer like this” he moaned, and you could feel his hips moving in a more uncontrolled pace, twitching underneath you.

You let your free hand find his balls, gently tugging them as you let him slide deeper down your throat, and he groaned with pleasure. You could taste the saltiness of his pre-cum and you knew he was close.

“Baby, I’m really close” he breathed. “Do you want to let go? Are you sure…” he couldn’t finish the sentence as you took him even deeper, and he let out another groan. “Liv, you have to let go – I can’t hold it any longer.”

You looked up at him through your lashes, meeting his dazed gaze, your pace never faltering, as you slid your arms around his hips as to let him know you wanted him to release into your mouth - you wanted to taste every part of him.

Then he finally let go.

The way he came undone in your mouth overwhelmed you - raw, entirely at your mercy. You held him through it, as he threw his head back, moaning loudly trying to hold back the sounds of pleasure - pulsating and emptying into you, every movement slow and purposeful. You swallowed the warm, thick liquid, letting your tongue gently coax him through the aftershocks – not wanting it to end.

You were still rubbing your throbbing clit with your fingers, and your orgasm arrived right after his, unstoppable and overwhelming. Your legs went weak as you moaned against him and clinging to him instinctively - fingers digging into his hips, needing his body to anchor you.

His hips trembled, legs quaking as the final waves of pleasure coursed through him. Then, with a breathless, disbelieving laugh, he collapsed back onto the bed, his chest heaving.

He ran one hand through his tousled curls, his other arm flung wide across the sheets as if his body had been claimed entirely by the moment.

You lingered, your lips still gently wrapped around him, coaxing soft, lazy circles with your tongue along his now heavy, softening length. Only when his breathing began to steady did you finally release him, slowly - reluctant to let go of the intimacy you’d just shared.

When his eyes found yours again, something in them had shifted - still dark with desire, but also full of something deeper. Reverence. Wonder.

“Oh my fucking god” he breathed, his voice thick with disbelief, a crooked grin tugging at his flushed face as he was looking at you. “What the fuck was that? You are unbelievable”.

He reached for your wrists, pulling you up and onto him with a strength that made you giggle, your bodies meeting in a heated, messy kiss. His lips crashed into yours with urgency, and he groaned into your mouth like he couldn’t get close enough.

“So that’s what I taste like” he smirked against your lips.

You laughed and could feel your cheeks burning as he pulled away slightly, his eyes fluttering shut with pleasure as he sank deeper into the pillows with a sigh so satisfied it made your chest swell with pride.

You nestled into him, resting your head against his chest, the rise and fall of his breath steadying you both. His fingers found your hair, stroking gently down your back, and you closed your eyes to the sound of his heartbeat still racing beneath your ear.

You lay together in the quiet aftermath, your bodies still and warm, your breathing slowly syncing in the hush of the room. The moment felt suspended in time, an intimate pause that neither of you wanted to break.

Then Luigi reached for your face, his fingers tender against your skin as he pulled you into another kiss - soft and slow at first. But it quickly deepened, urgency creeping back into his touch, his breath growing heavier.

You smiled against his lips, a soft laugh escaping you. “You’ve got energy left?” you teased, pulling back just enough to look at him. Your eyes drifted downward, and sure enough - he was already hard again.

“That… was… so… fucking… hot,” he murmured between kisses, his voice low and rough. “I want to fuck you. Now.”

Heat bloomed deep inside you, your pulse quickening in response to the raw hunger in his voice.

You let out a breathless laugh. “I’m on my period, remember?”

“I don’t care,” he said without hesitation, eyes dark with certainty.

You barely had time to respond before he gripped your ass and pulled you against him, the heat of his hard dick pressing through the thin barrier of your soaked underwear. You gasped at the contact, your body already responding, aching for him again.

“Come on,” he whispered, his voice gravelly with need. “Let’s get in the shower.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, Luigi was up before you, getting ready to head to Pisa with your dad for the day, doing some shopping in time for Isabella Ricci’s wedding. You wandered downstairs and stepped into the kitchen, just in time to say goodbye before their car came to pick them up, still half-asleep, your hair a mess and your robe wrapped tightly around you.

Luigi was perched on one of the stools, book in hand, waiting for your dad to get ready. His attention was buried in the pages until the sound of your footsteps pulled him from his reading. His face lit up the moment he saw you walking over to him, surprised to see you at the early hour.

“Hey, sweetheart - I didn’t want to wake you,” he said, arms slipping around your waist as he pulled you in, nestling you between his knees. “You looked so cute sleeping.” He kissed you softly, and you melted into his embrace, that familiar comfort washing over you.

“I’m just glad I caught you before you left,” you murmured, kissing him again. “What are you reading?”

He smiled, then turned the book in his hands so you could see the cover, his finger tucked carefully between the pages to hold his place.

“A City on Mars,” he said. “I finally got around to it. It’s quite funny actually - but also kind of brutal. Makes the whole colonization of Mars fantasy seem... wildly impractical.”

You laughed softly. “Leave it to you to read about the legal and ethical breakdown of space colonization before breakfast.”

Over his shoulder, you caught sight of your dad wandering through the living room in a mild frenzy, muttering under his breath as he bumped squarely into the edge of the couch.

“What’s his deal?” you asked with a sleepy smile.

“He’s just trying to find his phone. And his sunglasses. Again.” Luigi chuckled. “You know how he is.”

You did. And the fact that Luigi did too - that he knew him well enough to laugh about it with you - made your heart flutter.

“There they fucking are,” your dad muttered, his voice muffled as he emerged from behind the living room chair, triumphantly holding up his phone and glasses. “Who the hell put them back here,” he grumbled under his breath.

You rolled your eyes. Luigi let out a stifled laugh. You leaned in to press a quick kiss to his soft lips and then watched them both head out toward the waiting car.

Marc slid into the backseat first. Luigi followed, settling in beside him as he exchanged polite, easy conversation with the driver. But soon, his gaze drifted out the window, watching as the rolling green hills flew past, sunlight flickering through the leaves. Marc, meanwhile, was hunched over his phone, tapping at the screen, mumbling under his breath.

“Hey, Luigi, we’ve got a few things we need to talk about,” Marc said, not looking up.

Luigi turned his head slightly. “Yeah?”

Marc finally glanced away from his screen and set the phone in his lap, shifting to face him more directly.

“We’re getting close to filing everything for the civil suits. Damages, mostly. But then we’ve also got several defamation cases coming up - linked to the documentaries. Some of them are moving faster than expected. You’ll need to be present for a few of the arraignments. They’re coming up soon.”

Luigi blinked slowly, tension creeping into his shoulders. “What does that mean?”

Marc took a breath. “It means we need to head back to New York for a couple of days next week. Not all of us, just you and me. Liv should probably stay here. We’ll need to stay focused.”

Luigi felt his pulse throb in his ears. He nodded, eyes drifting back to the window.

“I know it’s not ideal,” Marc added gently. “And I know how heavy this all gets for you. But it’s just a few days. Then we’ll be back.”

“Sure,” Luigi said, jaw tightening. “I know it’s important.”

There was a pause that filled the car with an invisible weight.

“We also need to start thinking about media,” Marc said, his voice lower now. He picked up his phone again and scrolled through his inbox. “I know we agreed that we wouldn’t do interviews for now. But I feel we should probably consider doing at least one - something big. Just once. We need to give you a chance to speak. I still think it’s important.”

It was a conversation they'd circled around many, many times since the acquittal. Luigi had always been conflicted. He wasn’t drawn to the spotlight and had no need whatsoever to gain even more attention. But at the same time, he was smart enough to understand the value of it. The necessity.

After endless noise during his time in jail that he had no control over – sensational documentaries released before an indictment had even been filed, opinion pieces penned by strangers, speculative interviews with distant acquaintances, and former friends turning into talking heads – people speaking about him, over him, for him.

And through it all, he had remained silent, powerless to reclaim his own story. Now might finally be the time to set the record straight. To be heard, clearly and directly, for what he himself had to say.

“You know I’m leaning toward Scott Pelley or Anderson Cooper,” Marc went on. “But Karen’s pushing for Rachel Maddow. She thinks there’s power in the way she frames things, and she had a couple of productive conversations with her already.”

Luigi nodded, absentmindedly, still watching the trees flicker past, their shadows stretched long across the road.

“I know Jon Stewart’s been reaching out too,” Marc said, his voice casual. “Liv mentioned she thought it might be worth considering, depending on the angle we want to take. He tackles the bigger societal stuff while still being satirical, smart… and he connects with younger audiences too.”

He paused, glanced over at Luigi.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to overwhelm you. I just… there are a lot of people who want to hear you talk. And I know you want to tell your story.”

Luigi exhaled slowly, his gaze still tethered to the passing trees, the blur of green and gold outside the window.

“Yeah. I do,” he said quietly. “It just needs to feel right.”

Marc nodded. “Agreed. Let’s not rush anything. We’ll prioritize the legal stuff for now.”

He tapped away on his phone for a moment, the silence filling up with the soft rhythm of the tires against the road. Then he seemed to remember something, his fingers stilling. He looked up again.

“There’ve also been a few private meetings suggested lately. People we might want to take the opportunity to sit down with when we’re back in New York next week.”

Luigi turned slightly toward him, one brow arched in quiet, inquisitive interest.

“Alexandria’s been especially persistent. She called both me and Karen again last week. She and Bernie want to meet. Nothing formal - just a conversation. They’re interested in where you see things heading… long-term. Could be worth hearing them out. They’ve been doing some really impactful work lately.”

Marc let the suggestion hang in the air, unforced but unmistakable. Luigi didn’t respond right away. He simply nodded, slowly, his thoughts already miles ahead.

…

About an hour later, they arrived in Pisa. It was a beautiful day, the rain from the day before now little more than a distant memory. Sunlight poured over the city, casting long, golden beams across cobbled streets filled with motion, people flowing in every direction, drifting through the streets like pieces of a lively, moving puzzle.

The driver let them off near the entrance to Borgo Stretto, a narrow, elegant street lined with high-end boutiques whose windows gleamed with soft, deliberate luxury.

Marc walked with purpose. He knew exactly where they were headed - Il Cavallo Uomo, the only store he trusted for menswear in the city.

“I spoke to them earlier,” he said, pushing open the door. “They should already have a few things pulled for you. We just need to make sure everything fits properly.”

Luigi gave a small nod and followed him inside. The shop was decorated in the timeless style of Italian sartorial tradition - dark woods, gleaming mirrors, and soft lighting. A subtle scent of cedar and fresh linen lingered in the air.

A well-dressed associate greeted them with a knowing smile and gestured them inside. As promised, a curated selection of tuxedos was already waiting, hanging on a nearby rack. Marc sank into a deep leather armchair near the fitting area while Luigi disappeared behind a curtain with the first look in hand.

The dress code on Saturday was formal - black tie, which meant a traditional tuxedo in black or deep navy, a bow tie, and patent leather shoes. Luigi was leaning towards the most understated option: classic black on black. His intention for this wedding was to draw as little attention to himself as possible - blending in was the fashion goal of the evening.

He quickly stepped out of his jeans and pulled the shirt over his head before he slipped into the tuxedo - the fabric settling naturally across his frame and he felt a sense of relief. He was lucky enough that his body, with his broad shoulders and narrow waist, was easy to fit – he rarely had to spend much time in a fitting room. The jacket sat neatly, the shirt tucked perfectly - but as he fastened the trousers, he noticed a slight looseness at the waist.

He studied himself in the mirror for a moment. Clean lines, minimalist elegance. He didn’t look like someone trying too hard.

Luigi had never been into fashion. To him, clothing was purely practical - something to shield the body from heat or cold, nothing more, nothing less. He had his favored pieces, worn soft with time, and he saw no reason to expand his wardrobe for the sake of style. It really didn’t make any sense to him.

There was, however, more to it than indifference. Since childhood, he’d struggled with sensory issues, though it took years to fully understand them. Certain fabrics felt like sandpaper against his skin -  seams and tags could become unbearable distractions.

If something fit too tightly or scratched in the wrong place, it consumed his attention entirely, making it impossible to focus on anything else. So, when he found clothing that didn’t overwhelm his senses, he wore it on repeat, sometimes until it nearly fell apart.

But since meeting Liv, things had shifted a bit. She’d quietly taken over the task of managing his wardrobe. It had started already during his time in jail, when he had court appearances to attend -  her selecting pieces for him that were both stylish and comfortable.

He trusted her with it completely, and in that trust, he found unexpected relief. He understood - at least on an intellectual level - the unspoken language of clothing, how appearance could shape perception, signal confidence and competence. He knew there was power in that.

Still, the thought of wandering through stores, making decisions based on trends or aesthetics made him shudder - he simply didn’t have it in him to care.

Sweeping the curtain aside, he stepped out to show Marc the tux.

Marc glanced up and immediately let out a low whistle.

“Jesus, Luigi,” he said with a grin. “You always clean up well, but this – good god you look handsome.”

Luigi smiled as the store associate approached, giving him a once-over with a practiced eye.

“Questi pantaloni mi sembrano un po’ larghi in vita?” Luigi asked, brushing his hand across the waistband.

The associate nodded, fingers gently tugging at the fabric.

“Un attimo, aspetti qui,” he murmured before disappearing into the back room.

Luigi turned to Marc, who now had a confused look on his face, with a soft chuckle. “He’s just grabbing some pins. The waist needs adjusting.”

Marc nodded, still studying the tux with an approving look, his phone forgotten in his lap for once. “Sorry for staring – but seeing you look so dashing just suddenly made me reconsider my own entire outfit for this damn wedding”.

Once the associate returned, he knelt gracefully to pin the waist of Luigi’s trousers with quick, practiced fingers. Luigi remained still, arms slightly raised, his gaze following the tailor’s movements with that familiar, observant curiosity of his - quiet, measured, as if cataloging every motion not out of scrutiny, but out of genuine interest.

Once the final pin was secured, the associate gave a short nod, and Luigi was free to retreat into the dressing room to shed the formalwear and slip back into his jeans and shirt.

The tailor had assured them the alterations would take no more than twenty minutes, so Luigi settled into the chair beside Marc to hang out while they waited. A few moments later, an attendant appeared with two cappuccinos balanced neatly on a tray. The cups were set down before them with a soft clink of porcelain against wood.

Luigi raised the cup to his lips, the porcelain warm against his fingers, when he caught the flicker of a smirk forming on Marc’s face.

“So, Mangione… you and my daughter…” Marc said, his voice laced with something between curiosity and amusement.

Luigi gave a short, startled cough. He glanced up at Marc, whose expression remained sly.

“You know, I might come off as being a bit all over the place most of the time, I totally understand that” Marc continued, swirling his cappuccino absentmindedly, “but I’m a better observer than people might think. Comes with the territory of being a lawyer, I guess – it’s kind of my job to read a room, pick up on what’s not being said. Find out what’s below the surface. Find out what’s really going on behind the facades that people tend to hold up.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen you do that a few times,” Luigi replied with a smile, meeting his gaze.

Marc leaned in slightly, his voice lowering with a conspiratorial warmth. “That’s why I want you to remember this - no matter what anyone else in the family might tell you, what Celine or Karen believed happened… It was me who was the first to realize you two were going to end up together.”

A broad, genuine smile spread across his face.

“Really?” Luigi lifted a brow, his tone light with mock surprise.

“Really,” Marc confirmed with a slow nod, his grin smug and satisfied. “I just wanted to make note of that… for the record”. He winked.

Luigi chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve come to realize our feelings toward each other was more obvious than any of us understood at the time.”

Marc nodded knowingly. “I know my daughter. I know when she’s happy. The way she acted every time she came back from a meeting with you - I didn’t need much more than that to start putting the pieces together.”

Luigi laughed, the sound bubbling out of him before he could stop it. His heart beat a little faster just thinking of you.

Marc leaned forward slightly, his voice softer now. “She’d walk into the office some mornings like a hurricane - storming around, driving everyone crazy. Total nightmare. And then she'd spend an hour with you and come back… different. Lighter. Like something in her had shifted.”

Luigi’s expression softened. “She was that person for me too,” he said, his voice low. “From the moment you first introduced her to me. It was like she was…” He paused, searching for the right words. “It was like she was my lifeline.”

He leaned back in the chair, his eyes lifting to the ceiling, a wistful breath escaping him. “God, that already feels like a lifetime ago.”

Marc let out a low hum of agreement. “It’s wild, isn’t it? Even for me. And I can’t imagine how it feels for you.”

A beat of silence passed, then Marc looked over at him again, more serious now. “Thank you for the sunshine you bring into the world. For us. For our daughter.”

Luigi blinked, taken slightly aback by the sincerity in Marc’s voice.

Marc continued, steady and warm, “I just needed to say that. You have this rare quality - you radiate love. It changes the people around you, and that’s a gift. Not everyone has it.”

Marc’s smile softened. ”That’s something my wife have always made sure is the way we lead in our family, it’s her whole philosophy of life – it’s all about the love you give out to the world. That love will come back to you, and that’s what it’s all about really.”

“And that,” Luigi said, tapping a finger gently against the table, “is exactly why you and Karen have always felt so safe to me, even in my darkest, most unbearable moments. You made me feel that with love, everything was possible.”

Luigi looked away for a moment, thoughtful. “When it comes to love,” he said finally, “I don’t think there’s such a thing as loving too much. Or showing it too much. And if there is - then honestly, I think it’s commendable, not something to be ashamed of.”

Marc nodded slowly. “Agreed. This is very true.”

There was a pause again, quieter this time, filled with something unspoken. Luigi found himself marveling, not for the first time, at just how fortunate he’d been. Not only to have found Liv - but to have found all of them. To have been welcomed, not just tolerated, into a family that led with love. Even at his absolute worst, they gave, and gave, and kept giving.

“Maybe it’s a little pathetic how much I love Liv,” he said with a faint, sheepish smile. “But I plan on making sure she knows it - every day, for the rest of her life.”

Marc stilled. For a moment, his face gave nothing away, the weight of the moment anchoring them both.

Then he spoke, voice steady, full of quiet pride. “Luigi Nicholas Mangione. I’m proud to call you my son-in-law. I truly couldn’t ask for a better man for my daughter.”

Luigi returned the smile, eyes a touch shinier than before - just as they were interrupted.

The associate was back, holding the freshly adjusted trousers. Both Marc and Luigi rose from their chairs, Luigi adjusting his jeans slightly before straightening - taking the last sip of his now-cool cappuccino.

Marc gave him a sidelong glance, grinning again. “Let’s just get you two married already,” he said casually. “Besides her being, you know, an overall good person and really, really in love with you… you’d also be getting a lifetime of legal advice for free.”

Luigi laughed. “Hopefully I won’t have quite that much need for it.”

“Sure, sure,” Marc said with a smirk. “But Mangione Agnifilo does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” He gave one last wink as he turned to pay.

Chapter Text

Back at the house, you and your mom had just returned from the store, your arms full of clinking jars and fruit. Your mom had come across a viral smoothie recipe - something called the Tropical Glowgetter - and was now utterly convinced it held the secret to hydrated, radiant skin.

You weren’t quite as swept up in the hype as she was, but you saw no harm in giving it a try. Besides, there was something comforting about humoring her little health initiatives, playing along with her current nutritional hyper fixations. Because let’s be real – she looked fucking amazing for her age.

Now the two of you moved around the kitchen in a quiet rhythm, unpacking bags of bananas, pineapple, cans of coconut milk, sticky agave, and a small, very mystical-looking pouch of blue spirulina. As the ingredients were now lined on the counter and the blender stood ready, the smoothie experiment began.

Suddenly your phone buzzed on the counter, a sharp vibration breaking the quiet rhythm of the kitchen. You wiped your hands on a dish towel before picking it up. The moment your eyes landed on the screen, a smile tugged at your lips -  it was a selfie from Luigi, taken in a mirror at the store. He was wearing his new tux, looking even hotter than you had expected.

You still couldn’t believe that the gorgeous man in the photo was your actual boyfriend.

Luigi Nicholas: This ok for Saturday?

Luigi Nicholas: Can’t make any decisions without my personal stylist anymore

You: You look so fucking hot babe. Good thing I know how to fight.

Luigi Nicholas: lmfao

Luigi Nicholas: Missing you already my pretty girl

You: Me tooooo

You: Hurry home

Your mom glanced up from the cutting board, her eyes catching the look on your face.

"Judging by that smile, I’m guessing you're texting Luigi?" she said, amusement lacing her tone. "Are they surviving out there on their own? I still feel a little guilty for sending him shopping with Marc as his only backup. I don’t really know what I was thinking, he’s got the worst fashion sense of the family?"

You laughed softly, still gazing at the photo. “He just sent me a picture of the tux – I don’t know who’s responsible, but he looks really good. Really good.”

Your mother returned to cutting pineapple, but her expression softened, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “You and I haven’t really had time to talk, not since everything started between you and Luigi,” she said. “But it’s pretty clear you're enjoying each other’s company. That much shows.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, a blush creeping in as you set the phone down and moved to sit on one of the stools at the counter. She was right - things had changed so quickly, that you hadn’t had the chance to talk at all with her in private since Luigi became more than just the family house guest for summer.

“Yeah, we are,” you said, a smile blooming across your face – a bit too big, but it couldn’t be helped. “It honestly feels like a dream. He’s just… he’s just such a perfect human being.”

Your mom paused, her knife hovering above the cutting board. She placed a hand gently over her chest, the gesture instinctive, full of unspoken emotion. When she looked at you, there was nothing but tenderness in her eyes.

“I feel like I love him in a different way than I’ve ever loved anyone before,” you said slowly, almost tasting the words as you spoke them. “It’s not just more - it’s different. There’s this… deep tenderness I feel for him. Like my heart turns to absolute mush the second I see him.”

Your mom’s voice caught before she even spoke. “Oh my God, Liv,” she said, already sounding choked up.

You grinned, unable to help yourself. “And he’s so fucking hot, too,” you added with a giggle. “I still can’t believe I actually get to kiss him. Do you remember when we went to visit him in jail? I was so distracted just staring at his lips - I barely heard a word anyone was saying. He really has the most beautiful mouth – I’m like obsessed with it.”

Your mom let out a laugh, shaking her head as she crossed the kitchen to grab a few oranges. “Yeah, we kind of picked up on that,” she said. “That’s part of why I put you on social media monitoring duty - figured you didn’t need to be at every single meeting.”

“Stop it,” you said, laughing along. “Honestly, I don’t know if that was the smartest strategy. Watching shirtless pictures of him eight hours a day might’ve been what sealed the deal.”

Your mom smiled but suddenly grew thoughtful, her tone shifting as she turned back toward you. “But you are able to see past the physical stuff, right?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the seriousness in her voice. “Wait, what?” You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Mom - are you seriously asking what my intentions are with Luigi? You know it’s supposed to be the other way around, right? Aren’t you supposed to give him the third degree?”

“I’m sorry” she said, not looking sorry at all. “But you know how much I care about him.”

Before you could chime in, she continued - voice gentle, but firm. “And yes, I realize you’re my daughter. That’s precisely why I’m saying this. You know how deeply I feel about him. And right now, all he needs is to feel safe. To feel loved.”

You laughed, shaking your head. You couldn’t blame her - not when you felt exactly the same way.

“Mom, I swear,” you said, hand over your heart in exaggerated sincerity, “your precious baby Luigi is in the most capable hands. I’m not even being dramatic when I say I would protect his body with mine as long I could keep him safe and happy. You don’t have to worry.”

She narrowed her eyes with playful suspicion, then gave you a wink and a smile. “Okay, I guess I’ll have to trust you.”

…

Later that evening, Luigi had called to let you know that he and your dad were grabbing dinner together before heading home. With them not returning for a little while longer, you wandered into the kitchen for a quick night snack, then made your way to the bathroom, craving the comfort of a long, warm shower.

You wandered through your Spotify library, flicking past old party playlists and suggested new releases, until your thumb paused on Taylor Swift’s Lover. There was something nostalgic about that album - sweet with a hint of melancholy. You hit shuffle, dimmed the lights, and struck a match to light your favorite candle - Byredo’s Bibliothèque, the familiar scent of birch wood and patchouli already curling through the room.

You stepped into the steam just as the opening notes of Cornelia Street began to play, the sound filling the space. The hot water hit your skin, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. This - this was a good shower. Not just the practical kind, but the kind that feels like a reset.

We were in the backseat
Drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar
"I rent a place on Cornelia Street"
I say casually in the car
We were a fresh page on the desk
Filling in the blanks as we go
As if the street lights pointed in an arrowhead
Leading us home

You hummed softly along with the lyrics, voice blending with the steam that curled around your bare skin. The warmth of the water comforted you as you reached for the shampoo, lathering it through your hair with deliberate care, once, then again. The familiar rhythm of your fingers was meditative, almost indulgent. You followed up with conditioner, rich and silky, its scent blooming in the damp air.

You shaved your legs with slow, practiced strokes, savoring the growing smoothness beneath the blade. These little rituals had taken on a different pleasure since you and Luigi had begun sleeping together.

Now, the act of getting ready - of preparing your body to be touched by him - thrilled you. You could feel the anticipation grow just beneath your skin.

Totally unhurried, you worked your body scrub into your skin, each slow, circular motion melting the tension in your muscles. When the final steps were done, you tilted your face toward the water, eyes fluttering closed. The cascade over your skin was almost hypnotic - like standing beneath a warm waterfall. You might’ve fallen asleep standing right there if not for a sudden sound.

The creak of the bathroom door.

Your body tensed, flinching at the noise. Eyes snapping open, you turned toward the doorway, blinking through the blur of water, trying to make out the shape behind the intrusion.

It was Luigi.

He grinned as he stepped into view, eyes locked on yours with the kind of urgency that sent a flutter through your chest. In one fluid motion, he tugged his shirt over his head and let his pants fall to the floor, his movements unhurried but sure - like he’d been waiting all day for this moment.

Your heart leapt at the sight of him. Even after just a day apart, the distance had felt like a small eternity. The second he slid the shower door open and stepped into the steam with you, excitement surged through you, impossible to hold back.

You threw your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his as your lips met his in a hungry, crashing kiss. He pulled you close, his arms firm and possessive around your waist, guiding you gently backward beneath the warm stream of water until it poured over you both.

He pulled back only for a moment, just enough to push his curls back from his face with one hand, eyes gleaming beneath damp lashes.

“I missed you so much today, baby,” he murmured, voice low and thick with affection.

Just then, as if cued by the moment, the opening notes of Daylight began to drift in from the speaker.

My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in
Everyone looked worse in the light
There are so many lines that I've crossed unforgiven
I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

You closed your eyes and kissed him again, slow and tender this time, your lips lingering on his. Your heart thundered in your chest, full and aching with the sheer force of your love for this man.

“This song makes me think of you,” you whispered against his lips, your breath brushing his skin.

He smiled, warm and amused. “I know this one. Taylor Swift, right?”

Maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down
Maybe I've stormed out of every single room in this town
Threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it's morning now
It's brighter now

He let out a short laugh, tilting his head at the lyrics. “So this is about me, huh?”

“Just listen,” you said, eyes gleaming as the chorus crept in. You held his face between your hands and sang along, your voice soft.

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you
I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you
I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night
And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

He was smiling by the time you finished, the corners of his mouth curled.

“I really never want to look at anything else now that I’ve seen your face,” you said, smiling back at him.

His gaze swept over your features like he was memorizing them, soft and reverent. Droplets of water slid down his dark brows, and you brushed one away with your thumb, the intimacy of the gesture making your chest tighten.

Then he pulled you closer until there was no space left between your bodies, just warmth and water and the press of his hips against yours.

“I love you,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Goosebumps raced across your skin, your body electric with his words. You could hardly believe how lucky you were - this moment, holding this beautiful man’s body against yours.

You reached behind him, grabbing the bottle of Method’s Foaming Body Wash perched on the shower ledge. The scent - vanilla and coconut - was warm and sweet, and you knew it was one of his favorites. You gave the pump two slow presses, filling your palm with the velvety foam before rubbing your hands together, spreading the lather.

Then, with deliberate tenderness, you placed your palms against his broad chest.

Your hands moved in slow, circular motions, the foam gliding over his skin. You felt the slight rise of his nipples beneath your touch, hardening under the warmth of your hands, and he let out a quiet, contented sigh, his body leaning subtly into your care.

You trailed the lather down his arms, massaging gently, fingers smoothing along the muscles, before returning to the expanse of his chest and easing your way lower - past the dip beneath his ribs, across the defined lines of his stomach.

You could feel his abs flex instinctively beneath your touch, tensing and relaxing in rhythm with his breath  - this feeling was something you never got tired of.

The water cascaded over him, the foam running along his skin, and you were momentarily mesmerized by his strength under your fingertips.

When you looked up, his hazel eyes were locked onto you.

His breath had quickened, shallow and thick with need, and yet he didn’t move. He simply stood there, watching you, letting you take your time, as if the act of being touched by you like this unraveled him just as much as it did you.

Then he finally tilted his head and leaned in for another kiss - this one deeper, slower, charged with something beneath the surface. You met him with equal hunger, your tongue moving in sync with his, heat tightening low in your belly. His hands found your waist, firm and sure, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but steam and skin.

Then, without breaking the kiss, he turned you gently, guiding your back against the slick, tiled wall. His mouth stayed on yours, his tongue exploring you in a way that left you dizzy. He rolled his hips against yours, and you gasped, a moan slipping from your lips at the sharp, pressure of him grinding into you.

His left hand slid beneath your knee, lifting your leg up and around his hip in one smooth motion.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint.

You nodded, lips brushing his as you pulled him back into another kiss, more urgent this time. Your fingers curled around the nape of his neck, anchoring yourself to him as he adjusted his stance, guiding himself into position.

Then, with a breathless pause - he pushed into you.

This angle always took you out. The stretch stole your breath, it hit something deep, something that made your whole body light up like a live wire. You had to clutch at his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin as he thrust forward, slow but unrelenting.

The world narrowed to the feel of him inside you, the sound of the water cascading around you both, the press of his strong chest against your naked breasts.

“Your dick feels so fucking good” you moaned in his ear and he pulled back a bit, meeting your eyes, smiling.

“I’m happy I can make you feel good, princess,” he murmured, his voice low, laced with warmth and just a hint of a tease.

Then he began to move inside you - your mind going deliciously blank under the spell of his rhythm. He moved with a deliberate, controlled ease, every stroke slow and purposeful. There was no urgency in him, only intention, only presence.

The unhurried pace of him made the moment feel even more intimate. He wasn’t in a rush to chase pleasure – you could feel it in every movement, in every breath he took against your neck, in the way his hands held you like something precious.

You had all the time in the world - to enjoy each other’s bodies, giving each other pleasure. A deep connection woven into every slow thrust, every soft gasp, every whispered word that hung between you.

You trusted him fully. With your body, with your heart. With your soul.

Chapter Text

“Fuck. Fuck.” You cursed under your breath, rifling through the bathroom drawer with increasing urgency. You could’ve sworn you’d put your new gold Chloé chain pendant necklace somewhere in the bathroom but now, with barely ten minutes left before you had to leave for Isabella Ricci’s wedding, of course it was nowhere to be found.

You paused, breath short. Maybe you’d put it somewhere on your desk?

Hiking your dress slightly to avoid stepping on the hem, you hurried into the bedroom, eyes scanning the surface. And then - thank God - there it was, casually draped over the neck of your table lamp. You had no recollection of putting it there, but there was no time to dwell on your past decisions.

You looped the delicate chain around your neck, fumbling with the clasp. It slipped once, then again, the small hook refusing to catch. With a huff of impatience, you stepped into the hallway and called downstairs.

“Luigi? Babe? Can you come upstairs to help me with something real quick?”

Downstairs, the others had already been ready for ages - your parents, Luigi, Ben, all seated with drinks in hand. Celine, as usual, was still locked in her room.

No one even thought about checking on her. At this point, it was basically a family rule: don’t ask Celine anything when she’s running late getting ready for an event. Everyone knew she would for sure go full meltdown if interrupted and you’d all been exposed to her stress rage enough times before to know better.

Muffled voices filtered up the stairs, followed by footsteps.

“I’m coming,” Luigi called up.

When he reached the landing and saw you standing there, he stopped dead in his tracks. For a moment, he simply stared.

“Liv…” His voice was low, breathless. “You look fucking amazing.”

It hit you then – this was the first time he saw your dress. You blushed at the intensity of his reaction, the way his gaze lingered. You’d worried, just a little, that the look might be a bit too sexy for a wedding. But the way he was looking at you now? Completely worth it.

“You like it?” you asked, your voice soft, teasing. You ran your hands slowly over the gold-beige silk, the fabric catching the light.

The Saint Laurent gown had hung in your closet for months, waiting for just the right occasion. And an Italian wedding, attended arm-in-arm with your heartbreakingly gorgeous Italian boyfriend, felt like the moment it had been made for.

The gown whispered of understated glamour, cut from panels of smooth satin that draped against your figure with effortless elegance. The thin straps, plunging neckline, and open back gave it an undeniably sultry touch.

You had chosen to wear your long, dark hair in loose, effortless waves, letting it cascade over your shoulders - polished, but not overdone. Just the right amount of undone glamour for a summer wedding.

There was no way you could wear a bra with this dress, and you had silently thanked your genes as you were getting dressed. Your boobs, modest but full and perfectly shaped, stayed exactly where they were meant to underneath the revealing cut.

Luigi took another slow step forward, his gaze locked on yours, then sweeping over your body with palpable heat. His eyes lingered, smoldering, and when they landed on the curve of your breasts, his breath caught.

“What the hell were you thinking, wearing this?” he murmured, voice roughened by need. “How to fuck am I supposed to control myself tonight?”

You tilted your head, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“You’re mean,” he chuckled under his breath, hands slipping around your waist with practiced ease. He drew you backward into the bedroom, pushing the door shut behind him in one smooth motion.

His fingers found the curve of your hips, then slid lower, gripping your ass through the whisper-thin silk of your gown. He leaned in, breathing heavily against your mouth.

“Easy, baby,” you laughed, trying to keep your voice steady. “I just spent an hour - an hour - on this makeup. I put my whole heart and soul into it.”

“Do we have time to just…” His voice trailed off as he buried his face against your neck, his breath shaky. “God, I need to be inside of you right now.”

You laughed again, pulling back slightly, eyes sparkling. “You’re insane.”

He gave you a slow grin. “So that’s a yes?”

“That’s a no,” you said, pressing your palm to his chest. “We’re already late, and I’m not ruining this hair nor this makeup.”

Luigi exhaled, dramatic and pained, then cradled your face in both hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His beautiful lips parted, and just the sight of them sent a sharp ache spiraling low in your belly.

You couldn’t help yourself.

“I talked to my mom the other day,” you said, voice softening, “about kissing you.”

His eyebrows lifted in astonishment. “You did what now?”

You burst into laughter, and he joined in, the sound low and delighted.

“I told her how I’m obsessed with your lips,” you said, eyes flicking down to his mouth. “There’s just… something about them. I don’t know. They drive me insane.”

You leaned in slowly, brushing your tongue across his bottom lip. He let out a dark, shuddering breath.

Then you took his lip gently between your teeth, teasing it, tugging softly before drawing it into your mouth.

A groan escaped him, deep and involuntary, his grip on your waist tightening like he was barely keeping himself anchored. “Now you’re just being a tease.” he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “You know that, right?”

You smiled against his lips and kissed him again - slowly at first, then with growing hunger. Your hands slid under his jacket, fingers tracing the solid curve of his back through the fabric of his shirt. He moaned into your mouth, then tangled a hand in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head back so he could trail kisses down your neck.

“Okay,” you laughed breathlessly, pulling away and pressing a hand to his chest. “I admit this is partly my fault… but we have to stop. I can’t show up to a wedding looking like I’ve just been fucked.”

He laughed too, reluctantly letting go of you. “You’re killing me. Seriously.”

“You’re not the only one who’s going to need some self-control tonight,” you murmured, eyes sweeping over him. “You look so fucking sexy in that tux, it’s crazy.”

He looked every inch of the wedding fantasy you’ve had in mind - his tux perfectly tailored, curls neatly styled, and his bow tie slightly askew after your make out session.

You reached up to adjust it, smoothing the fabric and smiling up at him. He looked down at you with that soft, almost reverent expression that made your heart twist.

“We’re kind of a cute couple, aren’t we?” he said with a crooked grin.

”A cute couple that is very late to a wedding” you giggled. ”Let’s go downstairs.”

…

After a very long and utterly chaotic drive through the Tuscan countryside, your car was finally moving through the ancient archway of cypress trees leading up to the wedding venue.

The way over there had been filled with stolen glances and barely restrained touches between you and Luigi in the backseat, Celine’s brooding silence after screaming that she was “stressed and pushed to the very point of a heart attack” - a reaction to Ben’s casual remark that her lateness might make the entire group miss the ceremony -  and your father’s absolute, unwavering command of the car’s music without any consideration for the rest of the family’s reluctance to listen through the full discography of Jurassic 5.

The gravel crunched beneath the tires as the car rolled slowly up the narrow stone road that snaked toward Castello di Gabbiano, the wedding venue that looked as though it had been pulled from the pages of a fairytale. It was a historic vineyard estate passed down through generations and owned by family friends of the Ricci’s – located in timeless elegance atop a sun-drenched hill.

The castle itself, majestic and romantic in its age-worn stone, presided over the surrounding vineyards and olive groves. The ceremony was set for five o’clock, just beyond the main façade, where the castle's shadow gave way to sweeping, golden views below.

The late afternoon sunbathed the surroundings in a warm, honeyed glow, gilding the landscape in light. As you stepped out of the car, your breath caught. For a brief moment, all the tension from the drive vanished. This was nothing less than magical.

You turned, reaching for Luigi’s hand as he stepped out of the car. His fingers curled around yours instinctively, his eyes sweeping across the grounds with the same quiet awe that stirred in your chest.

“Wow,” he murmured. “Just… wow. This place is absolutely stunning.”

It seemed you were among the last guests to arrive - clusters of elegantly dressed people already mingled near the ceremony space, champagne glasses in hand, their voices floating through the warm, golden air in a gentle chorus of laughter and conversation.

Still holding Luigi’s hand, you led him toward the crowd. Just ahead, rows of white chairs were arranged in perfect symmetry, facing an arbor adorned with cascading white blooms and delicate greenery - the flower arrangements framing the spot where the couple would soon exchange vows.

A passing waiter offered you each a glass of champagne, the bubbles catching the sunlight.

You exchanged a quiet smile with Luigi, and paused near the edge of the crowd, waiting for the rest of your family to catch up before wading into the sea of guests - scanning the faces for someone familiar.

The air shimmered with quiet romance, and with Luigi’s warm hand clasped in yours, a subtle current of energy passed between you. It was intoxicating - being here with him, not just with him, but belonging to him – as his girlfriend. The thought stirred something in you, a fluttering giddiness that made you feel like a teenager, both innocent and breathless.

You paused, unable to keep from looking up at him with a smile that spread across your face. He smiled back, his gaze soft and full of something that made your heart ache a little.

“I have butterflies,” you whispered, barely audible over the ambient hum of the gathering. “Being here with you… it means everything. Thank you for coming with us.”

Luigi’s eyes didn’t waver. “You look so beautiful in this place,” he murmured. “In that dress. In this moment. I can’t believe I’m the one who gets to hold your hand.”

The urge to kiss him swept through you, but you held yourself back. This was your first public appearance as a couple, and even though it was a small private event, tucked away in the Tuscan hills, you knew better than to assume anonymity. Luigi’s face was recognizable, and discretion seemed like the best choice. Any added attention to him right now would be unnecessary.

He sighed, and you knew he was thinking the same thing. “Tonight’s going to be... a bit of a challenge,” he chuckled under his breath, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. You blushed, your pulse quickening.

Before the tension could build further, a familiar voice called out, slicing through the moment.

“There you are!”

Giulia Ricci emerged from the crowd with the grace of someone born to host, her champagne glass catching the afternoon light as she approached. She kissed you warmly on each cheek before turning to Luigi, her eyes lighting up with genuine affection and excitement.

“Grazie di cuore per essere venuto. Siamo profondamente grati di averti come ospite oggi,” she said, cradling his face in her hands with tender reverence.

Luigi, ever composed, didn’t flinch at the intimacy of her gesture. You figured he was used to warm mannerisms, being from a large Italian family himself.

“Sono io che dovrei ringraziare te. Sei incredibilmente generosa ad avermi invitato a un matrimonio così bello. Mi sento davvero onorato di essere qui.” His reply came with a calm ease.

And just like that, you were undone.

Luigi speaking Italian was a weakness you hadn’t yet found the strength to master. It undid you every single time.

You just stared at him - his deep, steady voice, him speaking Italian, the way the tuxedo hugged the breadth of his shoulders.

You had to look away, closing your eyes briefly in an attempt to regain composure. Your arms gave a small, involuntary shake at your sides, as though your body was trying to shake off the heat coiling in your chest. But there was no silencing the storm he stirred within you.

Giulia turned to you, her eyes bright with affection.

“You two are absolutely beautiful together,” she said, her voice warm. “And Liv, you look radiant in this light.” She held out her hand with a mischievous smile. “Give me your phone. I have to take a picture of you two right here.”

You laughed, fishing your phone out from your clutch and placing it in her hand. She gestured to a spot just a few steps over, where the rolling hills dipped into a horizon soaked in golden sunlight. The scenery behind you looked like something out of a dream.

Luigi stepped close, his hand finding your waist with instinctual ease, pulling you in beside him. You angled yourself slightly toward him, resting your hand over his stomach, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath his tuxedo.

Giulia beamed as she lifted the phone. “This light… Liv, it’s otherworldly on your dress. You look gorgeous.”

She snapped a few shots, changing angles, capturing the effortless chemistry between you. After a satisfied nod, she returned the phone to your hand, just as a member of the event staff tapped her shoulder. They exchanged a few hushed words before she turned back to you and Luigi.

“Go on, hurry and take your seats,” she said with a wink. “The ceremony’s starting in just a few minutes.”

As she disappeared into the crowd, you glanced down at your phone and began scrolling through the photos. She hadn’t been exaggerating. The two of you looked stunning - effortlessly timeless against the backdrop of the Tuscan countryside.

But one photo in particular made your breath catch. In it, Luigi was gazing down at you, his expression soft and reverent. You were looking up at him, your face glowing. Seeing your smiles in the picture, framed in profile and lit by the molten gold of the setting sun, made your stomach flutter.

“You look beautiful,” Luigi whispered behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he peeked at the screen. His voice was hushed, reverent. “Send that one to me, please.”

Then he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, straightened, and laced his fingers through yours.

“Come on,” he said softly, tugging you with him. “Let’s go see the bride and groom promise each other forever.”

Chapter Text

You and Luigi sat quietly on the bride’s side of the aisle, the soft murmur of anticipation fading as the first delicate notes floated from the string quartet ahead. Your legs were crossed, the fabric of your gown brushing against his trousers, his hand resting warmly and assuredly on your thigh.

Only a few moments into the music, Luigi gave your leg a small, excited squeeze. You turned to look at him, catching the gleam in his eyes, the barely contained smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I love this song,” he whispered, his voice full of delighted recognition.

You raised an eyebrow, curious - at first, the piece sounded like any other elegant instrumental, a string arrangement you couldn’t quite place. But as the melody swelled and unfolded, something clicked.

Your breath caught as you recognized it  – Can You Feel the Love Tonight, the iconic ballad from The Lion King soundtrack, now transformed into a slow, sweeping string version, still carrying the weight of its emotion. You knew how much he loved that movie.

You smiled, squeezing his hand in return, sharing the quiet joy of the moment just as a ripple passed through the guests. Heads turned. Gasps fluttered through the crowd.

Isabella had appeared at the top of the aisle.

She looked absolutely breathtaking - a vision in a strapless gown, tailored in clean, elegant lines, clung to her frame with effortless sophistication. The fabric was flowing into a long, sweeping train, and the lace veil cascaded down her back, trailing over the aisle as she moved.

She held on tight to her father beside her, both of them visibly moved. Her father blinked back tears, his steps reverent as they walked down the aisle. The soft light poured around her, catching the shimmer of her veil.

You felt your chest tighten, emotion rising. Weddings always did this to you – it didn’t matter if it was a close friend getting married or someone you didn’t know very well, the sheer weight of the love and the ritual in itself always left you breathless. You glanced toward the groom, Lorenzo, who looked entirely undone at the sight of the woman about to become his wife.

Instinctively, you leaned into Luigi, seeking the steady comfort of his body beside yours. He responded without hesitation, brushing his thumb along your thigh - soft, grounding. It was a quiet gesture, but in it was everything.

You tried to anchor yourself in the present, focusing on the music, the hush of the crowd, the way the late afternoon light fell - but your mind had already begun to drift. It was impossible not to. Your heart thudded heavily in your chest, each beat echoing with a quiet longing.

Because as Isabella moved gracefully toward her future, you couldn’t help but picture yourself in her place - walking toward Luigi waiting for you. Promising each other everything. Getting married to him.

The thought was gentle, but with undeniable weight. It actually didn’t feel like a fantasy anymore, much more now as something real waiting patiently on the horizon. And it made your stomach tumble.

You reached over and brushed your fingers lightly against Luigi’s, grounding yourself in his presence. He turned his hand to lace his fingers with yours, giving them the softest squeeze - like he knew exactly where your thoughts had gone.

…

After a breathtaking ceremony, full of heart and emotion, you found yourself still awash in your feelings, the weight of the love lingering like a soft pressure in your chest. The vows, the quiet tears, the whispered promises - it had all left you a little breathless honestly.

As you moved with the tide of guests toward the reception, Luigi slipped his arm around your waist. Together, you walked the stone path that led to the outdoor terrace where the wedding dinner would soon begin, pausing to offer your congratulations to the newlyweds.

“That was… beautiful,” you murmured, your voice tender as you turned your face up to his.

“It really was,” Luigi said, his tone low and warm. He drew you a little closer, his embrace protective, almost instinctive.

You hesitated, then spoke more quietly, your words soft like a confession. “It made me feel… a lot of things.”

“I know,” he replied, his pace slowing as he reached for your hand. His fingers intertwined with yours, firm and sure. “Me too.”

Your heart began to race, something unspoken stirring in the quiet between you - until your parents approached, breaking the moment.

“Oh my God,” your mother breathed as she approached, her voice still thick with emotion. “Wasn’t that just stunning? Even your father cried.”

“I did,” your dad admitted with a sheepish laugh, looping his arm around her waist. “Got all caught up in my feelings.”

From just behind you, Celine and Ben appeared, grinning.

“Yeah, Marc, I heard you,” Ben teased, clapping your dad on the back. “You were sobbing loud enough to drown out the music. Didn't know you were such a softie - it was cute though.”

“Did you guys find where you're seated?” he added, already motioning toward the seating chart.

You shook your head, and he led the way. You and Luigi found your place at a round table that sat eight, along with Celine, Ben, and two other couples. The tables were arranged just outside the castle beneath a canopy of string lights, casting a golden glow over the evening as the sky deepened into twilight.

The setting looked like a still from a dream, equal parts romance and magic. The round tables set under the open sky, draped in white tablecloths, were decorated with white and green flower arrangements and flickering tea lights.

As you made your way toward the table, Luigi and Ben drifted ahead, lost in animated conversation, while you and Celine lingered a few steps behind. The evening air had settled into a velvety warmth, and the buzz of celebration floated around you.

Celine leaned in close, her shoulder brushing yours. A sly smile tugged at her lips.

“Let me guess,” she said in a low voice, “you spent the whole ceremony picturing you and Luigi up there?”

You parted your lips to object, but she was quicker.

“Don’t even try,” she laughed softly. “You don’t have to say a word, it’s that obvious. It’s like you have hearts in your eyes when you look at him.”

Heat crept into your cheeks, but Celine only grinned wider. She gave your hand a squeeze, then pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“It’s so sweet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before.”

You reached your table just then, and Luigi paused to take stock of the seating arrangement.

“I’ll grab us something to drink - champagne all around?” he asked.

Everyone murmured their assent, and before he could turn, you caught his hand.

“I’ll come with you.”

The two of you strolled hand in hand between the tables, fingers laced. When you arrived at the bar, Luigi slipped his arm around your waist, drawing you in front of him. He leaned casually against the wooden bar, keeping you nestled within the curve of his body, his chin brushing your temple as he offered the bartender a warm smile.

“Buonasera, potrei avere quattro calici di champagne, per favore?” he asked.

The bartender gave a nod and reached for a chilled bottle.

While you waited, Luigi wrapped both arms around you from behind, his hold snug and protective. He pressed a slow kiss to your cheek, and you melted into him. Hidden slightly by the curve of the bar, his hand slid upward with quiet boldness, fingertips grazing the silk of your dress - one thumb flicking, featherlight, over your nipple.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you gave a soft, startled laugh.

“That’s… dangerous,” you murmured, voice low and breathy.

He chuckled against your ear. “Not my fault you’re so irresistible.”

You turned your head just enough to catch his mischievous grin, a warning in your eyes and a smile on your lips. “Please behave,” you whispered.

And just like that, the bartender extended two glasses toward you both, breaking the moment. Luigi straightened, his composure slipping back into place with practiced ease.

“Grazie mille, gentilissimo,” he said smoothly, taking the flutes with a casual nod, as if he hadn’t just been touching your breasts moments earlier.

When you returned to your table, you were met with a cheerful chorus of laughter. Ben, already in his element, seemed to have made fast friends with the others seated around you and waved you over with exaggerated enthusiasm - as if you’d been gone for ages instead of mere minutes.

You and Luigi made a gentle circuit around the table, introducing yourselves to the other guests. It quickly became clear that the Ricci’s had been intentional in their placement - everyone at your table was roughly your age and, thankfully, comfortable speaking English. Not always a given in Italy, and it boded well for the flow of conversation over the evening.

As you prepared to sit, Luigi’s hand found your waist, warm and sure, the quiet possessiveness of the gesture making your breath catch. He pulled out your chair, then settled beside you, close enough that your legs brushed beneath the table.

The air between you vibrated with something unspoken, a current you both felt. You leaned in, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and let your face linger near his, your breath mingling with his for a brief moment.

He lifted his glass and took a slow sip, eyes never leaving yours. Then he leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

“All I want is to touch you right now,” he murmured, voice low and electric, “ Seeing your tits move underneath your dress… I just want them in my mouth.”

You let out a soft, startled laugh, half flustered, half thrilled. Your eyes widened in playful mock-shock as you turned to him.

He raised an eyebrow, the picture of innocence. “What? You’re telling me you wouldn’t want my tongue on your nipples right now?”

“You have to stop,” you hissed quietly, stifling a giggle, “You know how wet I get thinking about you and I’m only wearing a lace thong under this.”

His breath caught, sharp and quiet. “Fuck” he muttered, his smirk curling at the edge of his glass as he took another sip.

A slow, sweet ache began to unfurl deep within you. You smiled before you leaned back and took a sip of your own champagne, the bubbles dancing on your tongue.

…

Dinner unfolded in waves of laughter, clinking glasses, spontaneous singing and dancing, and joyful toasts from friends and family of the newlyweds. Isabella and Lorenzo’s friends were full of energy and affection, turning what could have been a stuffy formal affair into a vibrant celebration and a fun party.

The wine flowed freely, everyone relaxing and having fun as the plates of different traditional dishes were served. You glanced at Luigi, who was laughing heartily at something Ben had said, and your heart felt impossibly full.

Not only had he agreed to accompany you to the wedding, but he was clearly enjoying himself, utterly at ease among your loved ones. To share this moment with him - to create memories of joy together - felt like a quiet, beautiful turning point of your relationship deepening.

Euphoria buzzed through your veins, a mix of champagne and love and the sheer happiness of being exactly where you wanted to be – together with him.

But something else pulled you momentarily out of the haze – the insistent pressure of your bladder. You really, really, needed to pee.

During a pause between speeches, you leaned toward Luigi, gave his shoulder a gentle tap as he was deep in animated conversation, gesturing fluidly in rapid Italian with the guest beside him. “I’m just going to the bathroom real quick,” you whispered. He nodded with a distracted smile, turning back to his conversation.

You navigated your way through the tables and slipped into the castle. The restrooms were a few steps down a curved stone staircase, and even that small corner of the venue had been transformed into something elegant. A central table stood adorned with a large bouquet of the most beautiful flowers and soft-glowing candles. Four doors lined the space, each leading to a private, gender-neutral bathroom.

You chose the one furthest to the left and stepped inside. The room was stunning - more like a powder room in a luxury villa than a standard restroom. You couldn’t remember being impressed by a restroom before, but this was genuinely pretty.

A large black and pink marble basin sat beneath a wide ornate gold mirror, and the flicker of candlelight reflected off the polished surfaces, casting everything in a soft amber glow.

You reached back to close the door behind you - only to feel resistance.

Turning around to try to close the door, your breath caught.

Luigi.

He had his foot wedged between the door and the frame. He gave you a slow, wicked smile, then slipped inside and locked the door behind him.

Your heart started pounding.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered as you smiled, breath hitching. The question was ridiculous - you knew exactly what he was doing there.

He didn’t respond. Instead, his hands found your waist and pulled you into him, lips crashing into yours with a hunger that stole the air from your lungs. He groaned against your mouth, his hands already sliding up the silk of your dress, finding the curve of your thighs and gripping your ass with a possessive urgency.

“Fuck, I need you,” he breathed.

Your back pressed into the cool marble edge of the sink as he pushed his hips into you, and your fingers found the lapels of his tux. The scent of his cologne, the warmth, the weight of his body - it was dizzying.

You knew it was crazy, sneaking away in the middle of the wedding like this. Probably irresponsible too. But the way he was looking at you, touching you - it made you feel like nothing else mattered.

And maybe, just for this moment, nothing else did.

There was a raw hunger in the way he kissed you - no pretense, no hesitation. His fingers moved with urgency, hiking up the silk of your dress, working through layers until they gathered at your waist.

He broke the kiss to moan softly against your mouth, the sound thick with want. “You’re so fucking beautiful. I swear my brain short-circuited sitting next to you out there.”

His fingers found the delicate straps of your dress and eased them down your shoulders. The silk slid away, pooling at your waist as your breasts slipped free. Luigi exhaled deeply, as though the sight alone undid him. With both hands, he cupped your boobs, then leaned in, closing his mouth around your left nipple. A low moan escaped him, vibrating against your skin.

The sensation was electric - too much, but still not enough - and your head fell back as your arms braced behind you, palms splayed on the cool marble. Even as his mouth left you, his thumbs continued to tease, circling slowly, and when you looked up again, his eyes were on you, dark with longing.

“Fuck,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve been wanting to do exactly this since before we even left the house. Your tits are so fucking perfect.”

His hand slipped between your thighs, grazing the lace of your thong. He groaned low in his throat when he felt how soaked they were.

“I’ve been like this since we got here,” you murmured, breath hitching. “I’ve been ready for your big dick for hours.”

He chuckled under his breath - low, satisfied. Then, with a slow, practiced motion, he drew your thong to the side and slid two fingers inside you.

”Fuck, fuck, fuck” you gasped, arching into his hand, eyes fluttering shut as he curled them just right. The sound - wet, sinful - filled the space around you. Intimate, almost obscene.

When he pulled back, you could feel it - slickness smearing over your thighs, the ache of needing more.

“I think you’re wet enough,” he said with a crooked grin, voice rough.

He stepped back just enough to unfasten his pants, pushing them low on his hips. He pulled out his dick, hard and ready, and for a moment he paused - eyes locked on yours, wild with anticipation.

Then, with one firm hand, he moved your panties aside again, and in one fluid motion, he pushed his full length inside of you - deep, full, perfect.

This time, there was no hesitation, no slow lead-up - you both knew exactly what you needed. Urgently. Completely.

His thrusts were hard and purposeful, each one pushing you back against the cool marble, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. His hands gripped beneath you, holding you up – you matched every movement with your hips, your breath catching each time he sank deeper.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as he drove so deep inside you, you could feel the pressure against your cervix.

“Are you okay?” There was a flicker of concern in his eyes. “Want me to slow down?”

“Absolutely not,” you managed, breathless.

He grinned at your answer, adjusted his grip beneath you, and shifted his angle just slightly. The next thrust hit something so devastatingly perfect, a cry escaped you before you could stop it.

“You need to be less loud, princess,” he murmured, voice thick with heat as he slowed his pace to a steady, teasing rhythm. “I know it feels good, but we can’t let anyone hear us, okay?”

You nodded, breathless beneath him. He was right. This was reckless enough as it was.

You wrapped your arms around his neck for balance, grounding yourself in his body, in the sensation of him. He began moving again, and you bit your lip hard, doing everything you could to stay quiet, to hold back the sounds clawing their way up your throat.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he breathed into your ear. “I really needed to fuck you”.

The wet, rhythmic sound of him sliding in and out of you filled the space between your bodies - intimate, desperate. Every thrust hit deep, right where you needed him, again and again. Your climax was building fast, pulled tight from all the build-up and teasing – from before even leaving for the wedding.

“I’m really close, baby,” you whispered, your breath catching against his ear.

But before he could respond, voices echoed from just outside the door - three people, laughing and chatting in Italian.

Luigi froze instantly, his body tense against yours.

You clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you fought to quiet your breathing. He was still buried inside you, thick and throbbing, and even though he wasn’t moving, your body was already tipping over the edge with the way he was stretching you. You were too sensitive, too tightly wound to stop it now.

“Baby,” you gasped against his mouth, trembling, “I’m coming.”

He let out a hushed laugh, part surprise, part awe. “But I’m not even moving.”

You squeezed your legs tighter around his hips, holding him in place as the orgasm tore through you - sharp and unstoppable. Your face buried in the crook of his neck, your body trembled in his arms, wave after wave of release rolling over you like warm liquid, leaving your limbs boneless, your breath shattered.

Outside, the voices drifted away as the guests moved into separate bathrooms. Clear.

He smiled slowly as he picked up his pace again. You giggled breathlessly at the absurdity of it all.

“I’m really close,” he panted, his hips thrusting faster, uncontrolled. “But, I - God, I don’t want to make a mess.”

You met his eyes, voice low. “I’ll take care of it.”

He blinked, confused for only a second - until you eased him back so he could pull out of you, then slowly sinking to your knees. You leaned against the cool marble, your back arching as you looked up at him with heat in your gaze. His eyes darkened, lips parting as you took him into your mouth.

“Oh my God,” he breathed, grinning as his head fell back, hands tangled in your hair - grabbing you to steady himself.

It didn’t take long for him to climax. His body shuddered and his thick dick twitched as he spilled into your mouth, hips jerking against your hold - the groan that escaped him low and broken. You swallowed, grabbed hold of his thighs, letting him rest in your mouth - riding out the waves of pleasure. Then you rose slowly, languid and satisfied, locking eyes with him.

You pressed yourself against him as you wiped the side of your mouth, before smoothing your dress back into place with a playful smile. “That was practical, right?”

He stared at you, still catching his breath. “How the fuck are you even real?”

He cupped you face and kissed you - fierce and tender all at once. When he finally pulled back, his hazel eyes lingered on yours. With slow precision, he reached for the fallen straps of your dress, lifting them back into place, his fingers grazing your skin with a reverence that made your breath catch.

You helped him with his trousers, buttoning and smoothing the fabric with careful hands. As you ran your palms up the front of his shirt, you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch - still slightly uneven, still tethered to what had just passed between you.

His hands found their way to the curve of your lower back, then down to rest on your hips. He gave your ass a teasing squeeze, drawing you closer until your bodies met again. You pressed against him, your lips finding his once more in a kiss that was slower now, rich with affection.

The intimacy of it - the warmth of his mouth, the way his hands knew you - sent a fresh pulse of arousal humming through you. His effect on you was out of this world.

When he finally pulled away, that familiar crooked smirk played at his lips. “So,” he murmured, voice low and velvet-soft, “ready to head back to the wedding?”

He leaned in a little closer, as if reading the thoughts flickering just behind your eyes. “Or…” His hands tightened subtly at your waist. “Up for another round?”

Chapter Text

Luigi returned to the table a few moments ahead of you, a careful, strategic move to downplay your mutual absence. The other guests barely noticed. Sliding effortlessly back into conversation, he placed a hand on one guest’s shoulder, laughing at something said just as you slipped discreetly into your seat, lifting your wine glass in what you hoped looked like an easy, unbothered gesture.

But of course, nothing ever escaped Celine.

Across the table, as you tried your best to appear entirely unruffled, she caught your eye, a silent laugh tugging at the corners of her mouth. Shaking her head in exaggerated disbelief, she mouthed, What the fuck?, then lifted an eyebrow and made a small, unmistakable gesture toward your hair.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. You reached up at once, fingers finding the messy tangles at the back of your head. You let your fingers quickly smooth over it, praying it wasn’t too obvious. Clearing your throat, you angled yourself toward the conversation happening beside you, nodding as if you’d been following every word.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Celine’s subtle movement - her hand slipping beneath the table, her gaze flicking down. A moment later, your clutch gave a soft buzz against your side.

You opened it, pulling out your phone. A new message from Celine lit up the screen.

Cel: Did you two just fuck in the bathroom??

You didn’t dare look up. If you made eye contact with her now, you’d lose it completely. You tried not to laugh as you typed.

You: No. Why?

Cel: Why???

Cel: lmfao

You set the phone down and bit your lip, struggling to suppress the grin tugging at your mouth. From the corner of your eye, you could see her still watching you, clearly itching to tease.

She leaned in close to Ben, whispering something in his ear. He burst into muffled laughter, covering his mouth with his hand. Oh, he was loving this. You and Luigi would not hear the end of this, that was for sure.

Thankfully, the next speech began just then, saving you from further interrogation - for now.

…

After a few more speeches, countless dishes, and no small amount of wine, everyone began drifting inside for the cake cutting. Outside, the staff swiftly cleared the dinner tables, transforming the terrace into an open-air dance floor for the afterparty.

Laughter echoed through the room as Isabella and Lorenzo cut into their towering five-tier cake, the layers draped in cascades of roses. They fed each other the first bite, giggling like teenagers, icing smudging at the corners of their smiles.

You leaned into Luigi’s side with a teasing grin. "Up for some dancing?" you murmured.

You knew full well that dancing wasn’t exactly Luigi’s strength. He loved a party, sure - but he was hardly the type to throw himself into the center of the dance floor.

You, on the other hand, could go clubbing and lose yourself for hours in music without even a drop of alcohol – a really good DJ was enough to leave you breathless and euphoric.

Luigi slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer with a smile. "For you," he chuckled, "I’ll definitely dance. I’ll even try to keep up."

"I love the way you dance," you said, beaming up at him. "Everything you do is cute."

He laughed, tilting his head a little. "I actually took dance lessons once," he confessed, grinning sheepishly. "Right before my sister’s wedding. Well, she practically forced me into it. She probably didn’t want me to embarrass her on her big day."

"Really?" you said, eyebrows arching. "What did you learn?"

"Don’t get too excited," he warned with a laugh. "Just basic ballroom stuff. Enough to get around the floor without making a total fool of myself - or my sister."

Before you could tease him further, the toastmaster of the evening - Lorenzo’s childhood best friend, Stefano - clinked his glass sharply, drawing everyone’s attention. He raised his voice over the chatter, encouraging everyone to eat as much cake as possible, before announcing it was time to gather outside for the bride and groom’s first dance.

You and Luigi made your way back out into the night together with the rest of the wedding guests. The terrace had been transformed - the tables now pushed back to the edges in a soft circle, each one glowing with delicate lamps that cast pools of warm light onto the stone floor.

Against the dark silhouette of the Tuscan hills, the DJ booth pulsed with bursts of color, sending flickering lights spiraling into the star-studded sky. The scene looked nothing short of magical.

Hand in hand with Luigi, you found a spot along the edge of the dance floor beside the rest of your family, just as the small band that had played during dinner took their place beside the DJ.

The lead singer raised a glass, calling for a toast to the newlyweds, and the crowd answered with a cheer, glasses clinking in the cool night air. You and Luigi stood close to the rest of your family, lining the dance floor to watch the newlyweds.

You watched as Lorenzo pulled Isabella into a loving embrace, and together they swayed closer, moving to a tender, stripped-down version of the Ben E. King classic Stand by Me, the song rendered beautifully by the lead singer’s dark, raspy voice.

You caught a glimpse of your mom out of the corner of your eye, and she looked seconds away from tears. "I love this song," she whispered, leaning toward you and Luigi, squeezing your dad’s arm tightly.

When the night has come

And the land is dark

And the moon is the only light we'll see

No, I won't be afraid

Oh, I won't be afraid

Just as long as you stand, stand by me

You leaned closer into Luigi’s side. He had an arm wrapped securely around your waist, his eyes fixed on Isabella and Lorenzo. There was something unreadable in his expression - a quiet intensity that softened his features in the low, golden light.

His side profile looked heartbreakingly beautiful like this, and you couldn’t help but stare at his gorgeous features. His perfect nose, pink pretty lips, the long naturally curled lashes, his tan perfect skin. The warmth of the music, the night, and him stirred something deep and tender in you.

Slowly, you noticed more couples beginning to drift onto the dance floor. First Giulia and Matteo Ricci, then Lorenzo’s parents, and soon others followed, filling the space with love, their movements easy and unhurried.

Luigi’s hand tightened slightly at your waist, and he leaned down, his voice low by your ear.
"Would it be okay if you did this first dance with your dad instead of me?"

You turned to him, a little surprised - but before you could even ask why, you understood. His gaze was locked on your mom next to you.

Without hesitation, he moved over to her, resting a gentle hand on your dad’s arm.

"Marc," he said softly, "would it be alright if I had this first dance with your wife?"

Your dad just smiled, stepping back with a small, knowing nod. Your mom looked up at Luigi, her face lighting up with pure, radiant love. She was practically beaming.

Luigi smiled back at her, and took her hand with a reverence that made your chest tighten.

He led her carefully onto the dance floor, then gathered her into his arms with a tenderness that left you fighting the sting of tears behind your eyes.

If the sky that we look upon

Should tumble and fall

Or the mountains should crumble to the sea

I won't cry, I won't cry

No, I won't shed a tear,

Just as long as you stand, stand by me

The moment felt surreal. The sight of them dancing - your mom glowing, Luigi so gentle and present with her - did something to your soul. The gratitude that surged inside you was overwhelming - not just for having them, but for them having each other. It was almost too much to bear.

Before emotion could fully break over you, your father slipped his hand into yours, squeezing gently. "Come on, honey," he said with a smile. "Let’s dance."

You followed him out onto the dance floor, passing Celine and Ben, who had joined in as well, laughter and love swirling around you.

…

In true European fashion, the night that followed dissolved into an endless wave of EDM music. The DJ unleashed a storm of various electronic beats - electropop, progressive house, and tropical remixes pulsing from the speakers, a euphoric mix of Avicii, David Guetta, Swedish House Mafia, and Calvin Harris blasting into the humid summer night air.

The wedding had by now shed all formalities, transformed completely into a nightclub under the stars. Tuxedo jackets had long been abandoned, sleeves rolled up and shirts unbuttoned. Updos had loosened into wild curls, and the dance floor had expanded to the tables, chairs, and even the stone walls surrounding the terrace.

Returning from the bar, fresh drinks in hand, you and Luigi spotted Ben and your dad perched triumphantly atop the stone wall behind the DJ booth. They were dancing - or something close to it - arms flailing, screaming the lyrics to a remix of Charli XCX’s Track 10 that ripped across the open night sky.

I blame it on your love every time I fuck it up
I blame it on your love, I do
I blame it on your love, I can't help it, I can't stop
I blame it on your love, I do

You doubled over with laughter, hardly able to tell who was having more fun - Ben or your dad.

Luigi shook his head, grinning, and together you wove your way back to the dance floor where your mom and Celine were already lost in the music. Your mom caught sight of you and Luigi and pulled you both into a fierce, joyous hug.

"Nothing makes me happier than seeing you two together," she said, pressing kisses to each of your cheeks. Her eyes shone as she smiled up at you. "Being here, all of us, as a family... it’s nothing short of a blessing."

You looked over at Luigi, who simply smiled, his hand resting warmly at the small of your back.

Your mom turned just in time to catch sight of your dad again - now half-stumbling along the wall with Ben hanging off his shoulders. She sighed, the tenderness of the moment cracking into affectionate exasperation.

"And something else that's a blessing," she muttered, "is that your father hasn’t fallen to his death yet."

Without another word, she strode toward the wall, weaving through the crowd. The music was too loud to hear her, but from where you stood, you could see her arms flying as she scolded him, trying to coax him down before the evening ended with an emergency room visit.

You laughed again, feeling the night lift you higher - love, music, family - all folding together in warm magic.

As the DJ let the last beats of Charli XCX fade into the shimmering opening chords of Higher Love by Kygo, Luigi slipped his arms around you, careful to hold his drink high and away so he wouldn't spill it down your dress.

You moved together, slow and easy, swaying to the music in the warm, electric night. For a long moment, neither of you said a word - you just looked at each other, smiling.

Think about it, there must be a higher love
Down in the heart or hidden in the stars above
Without it, life is wasted time
Look inside your heart, and I'll look inside mine

You felt the pull of him like gravity, and it took everything you had not to close the last inches between you and kiss him right there in the middle of the dance floor.

God knows, no one around you would have cared - at this hour, with this much champagne and music in their veins, the world had melted into a blur of laughter and lights.

But since you had made it this far without any overly public display of affection, you should manage a little longer.

Still, the temptation was nearly unbearable.

The night was slowly bleeding into early morning hours, and you could feel it - a sweet exhaustion unfurling at the edges of your body. Around you, the party was at full force, burning bright – and  knowing Italians, it would probably rage until the first light of dawn.

But all the intense emotions of the day - the laughter, the love, the weight and wonder of it all - had left you feeling deliciously worn out. Not to mention the way your feet hurt. The thought of slipping away with Luigi, of having him all to yourself again, felt unbelievably appealing.

As if reading your mind, Luigi leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Let’s get out of here,” he murmured.

You nodded without hesitation. Hearing him say it out loud made you realize it was all you wanted right now - to be alone with him, away from the music and the crowd, with no restrictions at all.

His fingers found yours, and he laced them together as he pulled you gently through the pulsing crowd. You fished out your phone, quickly sending a text to the driver to let him know you were ready.

A glance back showed your family still deep in animated conversation at the bar, glasses in hand, surrounded by new friends. Your dad finally down from the stone wall and back on solid ground.

They didn’t notice you slipping away - and you figured it was probably better that way. You’d send a message to the family group chat once you were already in the car, when it was too late for anyone to call you back.

You ached for time alone with Luigi. Nothing - not even the perfect Italian wedding party - could compare to that feeling.

You slipped around to the back of the castle, the gravel crunching under your heels as you approached the parking space. The car wasn’t far now - just a few more minutes and it would be here to pick you up.

Away from the warmth and pulse of the dance floor, the night air hit you sharply. It was past two in the morning now, and the chill settled quickly against your skin. Without a word, Luigi noticed your shivering. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, the fabric still warm, carrying the scent of his cologne - clean, woodsy, and undeniably him.

You hooked your arm through his, pressing closer as you both wandered a little farther down the quiet side of the castle, toward the spot where the car would meet you. When you stopped, you leaned back against the cool stone wall. Luigi leaned in, bracing himself with one hand on either side of you, his body brushing lightly against yours.

“I’m a little drunk,” he said, his hazel eyes finding yours and locking there.

“A little?” you teased, your voice light, your heart thudding.

He laughed under his breath, low and sheepish. “Okay... very drunk. But I don’t care. I have something to ask you.”

The air between you seemed to tighten. His breath was warm against your cheek - one hand slid down to your waist, steadying himself, steadying you. Your fingers found their way to his face almost without thinking, tracing the line of the stubble of his jaw before tangling softly in the curls at the back of his neck.

"You’re everything to me," he murmured, his voice rough-edged and reverent.

He didn’t look away. His eyes locked onto yours with a weight that stole the air from your lungs, the words sinking into you, thick and irrevocable. But beneath the devotion in his eyes, there was something else - a flicker of hesitation that made your heart ache. He drew in a slow, uneven breath.

"Are you going to stay with me?" he asked, the words now barely more than a whisper, dark and uncertain.

You blinked, taken off guard. Before you could find the words, he dropped his gaze, exhaling a shaky breath.

“I guess what I’m really asking is... are you sure you won’t run away from me? From everything that comes with me?”

There was a shift in his voice - something rawer, more sober than before. It trembled at the edges, and you realized, with a sudden ache, how hard he was trying to keep himself together.

You felt your chest tighten. You opened your mouth, desperate to say something, anything - but before you could, he shook his head gently, as if trying to spare you.

“Never mind,” he said, forcing a small, rough laugh. “You don’t have to say anything. It was a stupid question.”

He cleared his throat, his hand tightening just slightly at your waist.

“I’ll take the risk,” he said. His eyes lifted back to yours, steady now, almost fierce in their vulnerability. “What would life be, if we didn’t have the courage to risk something?”

His eyes locked onto yours, as if he were trying to memorize you. Without thinking, you ran your thumb along his cheek, a soft, wordless reassurance.

“If you’re asking whether I’ll still love you - even with your flaws,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of it, “then yes. My answer will always and forever be yes.”

He exhaled sharply, as though he’d been holding that breath for longer than he even realized.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The night wrapped around you in thick velvet silence, the distant pulse of music barely reaching this hidden corner of the world.

“I just keep thinking...” he said at last, voice rough. “Today. Seeing all of this. It had me wondering...” He swallowed, glancing down for a second before pulling your hand tighter to his chest. “Could something like this... ever be you and me?”

Your heart hammered so hard it felt like your whole body was pulsing with it.

You had to remind yourself: he’s drunk. He might not even remember this tomorrow.

But just knowing that his mind had wandered to the exact same place yours had - knowing that he had seen Isabella and Lorenzo getting married and pictured you and him making the same commitment to each other - made your stomach flip violently and your legs feeling unsteady beneath you.

“The truth is,” he whispered, the words so quiet you had to lean in to catch them, “I usually pretend to be this super logical person. Someone who needs to find real answers to everything, to make sense of the world and people around me. Rational, controlled.” He gave a soft, humorless laugh.

“But deep down somewhere I’m also a dreamer. Always terrified of wanting something I might never get. Something that might not be meant for me.”

He drew in a ragged breath, his thumb stroking yours where your hands were entwined.

“I’ve always felt like... I’m made to understand things, but not made to be understood.” His voice cracked slightly at the edges. “If that makes any sense at all.”

You nodded, unable to find your voice.

“I’ve been starved for tenderness,” he said, so quietly it barely stirred the space between you. “That’s what’s been wrong with me. For so long. I wanted to know and understand love, I ached for it - but at the same time, I just wanted to be alone. I needed touch, but every time someone got too close, I flinched. Pushed everyone away. The idea of being cared for... it scared me so badly it made me sick.”

Slowly, he lifted your hand again and pressed it to his lips. He kissed your knuckles, then lowered your hand against his chest, right over the frantic beat of his heart, and closed his eyes.

“And then you came along and held my hand,” he whispered. “And from one moment to another, everything that had felt so utterly confusing all my life made perfect sense.”

A soft, almost broken laugh slipped from him, and when he opened his eyes again, they gleamed with something achingly pure.

“I could blame this all on being drunk tomorrow,” he said, with a shaky grin. “But the truth is... being with you, finding you. It has been like walking into the sun after an endless winter.”

He leaned in until his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

“Every morning, I wake up so in love with you, I don’t even know what to do with my body,” he whispered. “Your name is the first thing on my mind. And I think... this - this is what it means to be alive. The illogical answer to a question I spent my whole life trying to find a logical one for.”

He pulled back just enough to cradle your head in his hands, his fingers slipping gently through your hair, like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

“And I think we both already know it,” he said, voice low and steady. “But I’ll say it anyway. I’m yours. In this life. In every life.”

Then he kissed you - slow at first, almost reverent, like he was savoring the first touch of something sacred. You met his mouth with a sudden, aching urgency, deepening the kiss, your hands finding the warmth of his neck, the curve of his jaw.

There was no one watching, finally - just the two of you there, and you could fully surrender to the moment, giving yourselves to each other without hesitation.

You breathed into him, feeling a wild, undeniable urgency flooding your body. The depth of your love for him was almost painful, a beautiful ache that wrapped itself around your ribs.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips. “And I’m yours just as much as you are mine.”

“I love you like…” he breathed back, voice hoarse with feeling. “I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before.”

You grabbed hold of his curls, pulling him closer, needing him closer. His hands roamed up your back, and you felt his jacket slipping from your shoulders with the shifting, desperate movement between you.

He pressed his hips against yours, a low groan escaping him as his hands gripped your ass, pulling you flush against him.

One hand slid up your side, finding the curve of your breast and giving it a slow, deliberate squeeze as he moaned softly into your neck.

You gasped when his mouth found your skin, kissing along the tender line of your throat, his fingers threading into your hair, tugging just enough to make your knees weaken.

The simmering heat between you was about to ignite - when suddenly, a pair of headlights flared against the stone wall behind you, breaking the spell.

You both blinked against the sudden glare, laughing breathlessly as you pulled apart, faces flushed, hearts racing.

“Our car is here,” you whispered, still clinging to him.

“Finally,” he murmured, voice dark. His forehead dropped to yours one last time as he smiled. “I can’t wait to get you home.”

Chapter Text

Luigi held the car door open for you with a quiet smile, and you gathered the silk of your dress carefully as you slid into the cool, dimly lit backseat of the black van. The leather seats felt smooth against your skin as you adjusted your gown, and a moment later Luigi climbed in after you, shutting the door with a soft thud.

"Buonasera, signore, grazie per essere venuto a prenderci. Ha passato una buona serata finora?" Luigi said, exchanging a few warm words with the driver in his low, melodic Italian. 

Then he leaned back into the seat, resting his head against the leather, letting out a long breath.

Without a word, he reached across the space between you and found your hand, cradling it gently in his own. His thumb stroked slow, soothing circles along your knuckles, his gaze resting on you with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. His hand drifted lower, trailing across your thigh in long, deliberate sweeps, the silk of your dress whispering against his fingertips.

You exhaled loudly, unable to suppress the sound. Desire bloomed thick in the air between you, and it seemed the driver noticed. He glanced at you briefly in the rearview mirror.

"Do you two want some privacy?" he asked in careful, broken English.

Under normal circumstances, you’d be mortified.

Having a man unravel you so completely that even your driver had to politely ask if you needed privacy? It should have been humiliating - a moment you’d cringe at. But right now, with Luigi’s hands on you and your body aching for his touch, embarrassment was the last thing on your mind.

Now, the offer felt like a gift. A wave of relief washed over you, scattering the last of your restraint.

"If you don't mind - thank you," Luigi replied smoothly, flashing the driver a quick, grateful smile before turning his attention back to you.

The chauffeur nodded, understanding immediately. He pressed a button, and the partition glided up with a low hum, enclosing you in a cocoon of semi-darkness. Soft music floated back from the front seat, more distant now. It wasn't perfect privacy, but it was enough. Enough for the sounds you could no longer contain.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and Luigi caught the flush with a teasing smirk before closing the space between you.

He leaned his warm body over you, hand cupping your face, firm and sure. And then he kissed you - deep, ravenous, the kind of kiss that left no room for hesitation. His warm, soft tongue tangled with yours, claiming you in a way that made your head spin, and you moaned into his mouth.

He slid his jacket from your shoulders, letting it fall onto the seat behind you. His hand skimmed down the side of your body, then up again, finding the column of your throat. With a soft, almost reverent squeeze, he held you there, grounding you to the moment as his mouth moved hungrily against yours.

You tilted your head back with a soft moan, surrendering to the heat pooling low in your belly. Leaning back into the seat, you let Luigi take control, his hands roaming up the curve of your body, finding the delicate straps of your dress. Still kissing you, he slid one strap down your shoulder, agonizingly slow, his fingers brushing against your bare skin.

Then he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with hunger.

"This fucking dress," he growled, his voice rough and low. "If you ever want me to do something I don't want to do... just wear this dress. I’ll say yes to anything."

You laughed softly, a teasing sound curling between you.

"Noted," you murmured, giving him a soft smile. "I might already have a few ideas where that could come in handy."

His grin was a flash of white in the low light.

"I’ll be waiting eagerly, then" he said.

Without taking his eyes off you, he pulled the strap all the way down, baring your breasts to him. His breath caught, and then he lowered his head, his mouth finding your exposed skin with a reverence that made your toes curl. He let his tongue work your body, kissing and biting softly at the sensitive swell of your boobs, sending sparks of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

You moaned, threading your fingers through his soft curls, arching into his mouth. The way he touched you - like you were something sacred, something that drove him crazy - made your head spin, made your whole body ache for more.

He drew one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking with slow, rhythmic pulls until your skin erupted in shivers of pleasure.

This felt so fucking good. Almost too good for the backseat of a moving car. The way Luigi was working you up so effortlessly had you spiraling, a deep, gnawing fear rising that soon there’d be no way to reel it back in.

"Baby..." you gasped, barely coherent. "We can’t go any further than this. You have to wait until we’re back at the house."

He groaned against your skin, the sound vibrating through you.

"I’ll try my best," he muttered, though the desperation in his voice made it clear how hard that would be.

His hand found your thigh, gripping it with a need that mirrored your own, while his mouth continued its slow, torturous worship of your naked breasts. You were impossibly wet, your body already craving him with a ferocity that startled you and you could feel it throbbing between your legs.

Every subtle jolt of the moving car beneath you sent delicious, maddening spikes of pleasure through your core, making it nearly impossible to stay still.

You couldn't remember that another man had ever made you feel like this - like you might orgasm from nothing but his mouth on your breasts. No one had ever drawn out this kind of raw, aching need with so little. The arousal building inside you from just his touch and the flick of his tongue on your nipples actually surprised you.

As if everything else about him wasn’t already unbelievably sexy, Luigi’s effortless command of intimacy, the way he seemed to know exactly what to do without you saying a word, was almost too much to handle. It was an unbearable, irresistible turn on that made you feral.

"What do you want me to do to you when we get home?" he moaned against your skin, his voice thick with desire.

Your breath caught, your face flushing hot under his touch. Suddenly, a shyness bloomed inside of you.

"Tell me what you need, baby" he urged, his mouth brushing your nipple, his teeth grazing it just enough to make you gasp.

Your fingers ran through his curls, trembling slightly as you held him close. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to summon the courage to speak.

"I need you to fuck me," you panted, the words falling from your lips in a desperate whisper.

He looked up at you then, a slow, devastating smile spreading across his face - satisfied, reverent, like you’d just given him the exactly the answer he was hoping for.

"And how do you want me to do that?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you.

You could barely form the words, your body already responding to the mere thought. Your need for him right now was ridiculous.

"I want you..." you breathed, "to fuck me from behind."

A dangerous glint sparked in his eyes.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his hand sliding higher along your thigh. "You want to be on all fours in front of me, baby?"

"Mhm..." you whimpered, too overwhelmed to say anything else, your body answering for you.

He chuckled, the sound dark and full of hunger.

"Sounds good," he murmured against your skin, his smirk wide, his eyes burning into yours. "Can’t fucking wait."

By the time the car finally rolled to a stop outside your house, you were completely undone.

Your legs felt weak beneath you as Luigi climbed out first, circling back to your side. He helped you out with steady hands, murmuring a soft "stay here," before leaning back into the car to pass the driver a generous tip, along with a murmured thank you in Italian.

You stood there, dazed under the pale glow of the porch lights, barely able to breathe as you waited for him, your whole body throbbing for him.

When he turned back to you, he had that irresistible smirk on his face that never failed to make your heart stumble in your chest. The car rolled away, its tires whispering over the gravel, and in the next instant he was striding toward you, biting his lip with eyes locked on you - closing the distance between you with a few purposeful steps.

His mouth crashed into yours with a hunger that stole the last of your breath. His arms wrapped around you, catching you as you melted against him, your body weak and trembling.

You moaned into his mouth as he walked you backward, never breaking the kiss, hands roaming greedily over your body, urgent and claiming.

Desire roared in your veins, a wildfire that burned away reason, leaving only need. You weren't even sure how you made it inside - the next thing you knew, you were in the hallway, Luigi kicking the door shut behind you with a heavy thud.

He pinned you hard against the cool wall, one hand wrapped possessively around your neck, the other gripping your ass hard enough to make you gasp. You cried out, the sound breaking free into the space between you, and he swallowed it with another brutal kiss.

"Please," you panted, desperate. "I need you. Now."

The words tore from your throat, raw and pleading. You couldn't bear another second without him - your body, your soul, everything inside you was thrumming, aching for him.

"Patience, pretty girl," he murmured against your lips, the words vibrating against your mouth in a wicked grin.

Before you could catch your breath, he scooped you up again, pulling you away from the wall with ease. His kisses rained down on you - hard, greedy - as he walked you backward through the house, the two of you stumbling together in a clumsy, breathless rhythm until you reached the living room.

Luigi stopped just short of the couch, dragging in a heavy, shuddering breath.

He pulled his mouth away from yours, his eyes burning into you. Without a word, he spun you gently in his arms, pressing your back flush against his chest. His hand curled around your throat again - not hard, just enough to remind you he was in control. He pulled your head back to claim another hungry kiss.

"I want you to bend over," he rasped into your lips, voice low and wrecked.

You barely managed a nod before he dropped down behind you, gathering the hem of your silk dress in his hands and hiking it around your waist as he straightened back up, exposing you to the cool air and his heated gaze.

Heart hammering, you obeyed – sinking your hands and knees into the soft cushions of the living room couch in front of him.

"Good god," Luigi growled behind you, voice roughened to a near snarl. "You look so fucking perfect like this. I’m so fucking hard right now."

You heard the hurried rustle of fabric, the metallic whisper of a zipper, and then he was there - the hot, hard, heavy weight of his dick pressed against the curve of your ass, sending a jolt of arousal tearing through your spine.

He ran his hands reverently over your hips, across the curve of your ass, groaning under his breath like he couldn't quite believe you were real.

His fingers dipped beneath the hem of your lace thong, teasing, before he slid the delicate fabric down slowly, deliberately, leaving it bunched low around your thighs.

The anticipation was a living thing now, clawing under your skin, making you whimper softly as you shifted against him, needing more, needing everything.

"How do you want me, baby?" Luigi murmured, voice dark and wrecked. "Do you want me to go hard or slow?"

You couldn’t take this another second.

"Hard," you panted, almost desperate. "Please - I need you to fuck me now."

”Are you sure?” he chuckled low, the sound pure sin.

You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You could feel it too - the heavy, throbbing heat of his dick poised right at your entrance. You tried to press back, aching to feel him fully, but his grip on your hips tightened. His strong hands anchoring them, holding you exactly where he wanted you.

"Luigi," you gasped, near tears with need. "Just fuck me. Please."

A moment passed, and then - finally, finally, he thrust inside you.

The force of it knocked the breath from your lungs. You collapsed forward onto your elbows, your back arching instinctively to take him deeper. The sheer stretch of him, the fullness, was devastating - one brutal, perfect stroke burying him impossibly deep inside you in a single thrust.

You cried out as his fingers dug into your hips, grounding you as he pulled out almost completely, then drove back into you with a guttural groan.

You were grateful, in some small corner of your mind, that the two of you were alone in the house - because the noises ripping from your throat right now were obscene. There was no controlling them, no stifling the moans and cries as Luigi fucked you with unrelenting force, each thrust leaving you shaking and breathless.

Because of his size, he always filled you to the edge of breaking, but like this - on all fours, wide open for him, taking him so deep you thought you might shatter – the sensation was absolutely crazy.

You wanted to tell him how good it felt, how close you were, but the overwhelming intensity robbed you of words - all you could do was pant helplessly. Somehow, he seemed to understand anyway.

“I know, baby,” he moaned, his pace steady and merciless. “I can feel how close you are the way you’re squeezing me.”

Without slowing, he gripped your waist and pulled you upright against his chest, thrusting into you at a new, devastating angle. You cried out, the sound sharp and raw, the pleasure spiking through you like lightning.

One strong arm held you firmly against his chest while his other hand slid down between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit with unerring precision. He rubbed soft, torturous circles over it, and your vision blurred at the sensation. Your head fell back helplessly against his shoulder, your body trembling.

"I know you're close, sweetheart," he murmured against your ear, his voice low and molten, sending shivers down your spine. "Just let go for me. Let me take care of this for you."

You were completely under his spell, unable to do anything but surrender. Your eyes fluttered shut, your body no longer your own, and you let him guide you over the edge into the most devastating, exquisite orgasm.

As soon as he had made sure you were exactly where he wanted you, Luigi gave in to his own release - a low, guttural sound tearing from his throat as his legs trembled and his grip on your body tightened. He buried his face against your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as the last waves of pleasure shuddered through him.

Both of you collapsed onto the couch in a tangled heap, his weight draped over you, the heat of his body and the rasp of his uneven breathing filling the quiet space between you. For a moment, neither of you moved, lost in the afterglow.

Then, a laugh, breathless and unguarded, bubbled up between you, and you both gave in to it, the sound ringing through the room.

“Fuck, that was good,” Luigi said with a grin, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck. He pulled out of you slowly, careful, before rolling onto his side and tugging his pants back up, leaving them half-fastened as he turned to face you.

You shifted toward him, your body still thrumming, and he propped himself up on one elbow, reaching out to gently brush your hair back from your face.

“How is it possible that you make me come like this every single time?” you whispered, smiling up at him, your chest still rising and falling quickly. “Please tell me you’ll keep doing this to me forever.”

Something in his expression shifted - the teasing glint in his eyes softening into something deeper, something that rooted itself right into your soul, full of love and affection. He paused and stroked your hair, a slow, tender caress that spoke louder than any words could.

“You know me,” he said with a slow grin. “Outfit repeater. Meal repeater. Movie repeater. I know what I like.” His thumb brushed your cheek with aching sweetness. “Why would I ever want to stop doing this?”

…

"Liv? Luigi?" Your mother’s voice was sharp and urgent from the other side of your bedroom door, slicing through the quiet of the early morning.

Your eyes snapped open at the sharp knock on the door. Disoriented, you instinctively leaned over Luigi's warm, bare chest, earning a low grunt from him as he stirred beneath you, as you fumbled for your phone on the nightstand. His body shifted slightly, muscles tensing on reflex.

You couldn’t find your phone, but you grabbed Luigi’s instead and flipped it around – 7:45 AM. That was not the time you wanted to be woken up the morning after an alcohol fueled wedding.

You turned your head, just as Luigi stirred beside you, his curls tousled, and face scrunched in confusion. "What’s going on?" he rasped, voice rough with sleep, as he rubbed his hand across his face.

Why the hell was your mom outside your bedroom this early?

Another knock. This one louder, sharper.

"I’m coming in!" your mother barked - barely giving you a second’s warning before the door swung open with a loud creak.

She marched into the room with the determined stride of someone on a mission, her eyes scanning the disheveled bed where you and Luigi lay tangled in the sheets. You scrambled upright, realizing in horror that while you were at least somewhat decent in a tank top and panties, Luigi was sprawled out in only his boxers, half-covered by the blanket.

Startled, Luigi sat up abruptly, yanking the covers up to his chest with wide eyes, his cheeks flushing.

"Mom, seriously?" you cried, trying to pull the blanket further over both of you. "Boundaries, please! You can’t just barge in here!"

"I knocked," she said dismissively, as if that excused everything. She waved a hand in the air like you were the one being unreasonable. Her pacing at the foot of the bed was restless, her face tight with urgency - something was clearly wrong.

Luigi shot you a baffled look, his eyebrows knitted together, still clearly trying to catch up with the situation - looking even more confused than you were.

Your mother finally stopped her restless movement and faced you squarely, her eyes serious.

"We have an emergency," she said, her tone clipped and no-nonsense. "I need you both downstairs. Now."

"What kind of emergency requires you to come storming into my room while Luigi and I are in bed half-naked?" you asked, voice rising slightly, your heart pounding hard against your ribs.

She hesitated for a brief second, then leveled a grim, unflinching look at you - and then at Luigi.

"There are pictures," she said flatly. "Of you two. Everywhere. Intimate pictures. From yesterday."

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room.

You stared at her, uncomprehending for a split second as her words sank in. And then your stomach plummeted to the floor.

Without waiting for a reaction, your mother spun on her heel and marched out of the room, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft thud.

For a long moment, neither you nor Luigi moved. You were frozen in place, staring at the empty doorway where she had disappeared, her words still ringing in your ears.

You finally turned toward him, your heart hammering.

Luigi was sitting stiffly against the headboard, his expression blank, unreadable. His jaw clenched once, a hard, subtle movement.

Panic started to claw its way up your throat.

Shit.

Chapter Text

You snatched your robe from the chair by your desk, wrapping it tightly around you as you hurried after your mom. Behind you, Luigi tugged on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, following you downstairs with quick, barefoot steps.

The scene that greeted you in the kitchen made your stomach twist even tighter.

Your dad was perched stiffly on one of the stools at the marble kitchen island, his face grim, brows drawn together in a deep, troubled frown. He was looking down, scrolling through his phone with rigid fingers, the light from the screen casting a pale glow on his tense features.

Next to him, your mom sat slumped over, her elbows braced on the counter, her head buried in her hands. A heavy sigh slipped from her, filling the room with an oppressive weight.

Your chest tightened. How bad could these pictures be?

Then suddenly – you heard laughter. Snorts, actually.

Bright, careless sounds coming from across the living room, slicing through the current tension of the kitchen. You turned toward it, utterly confused.

There, sprawled across the couch like they didn’t have a care in the world, were Celine and Ben. They were curled up together, sharing a screen, giggling uncontrollably over something on Ben’s phone. Celine was practically wiping tears from her eyes.

The jarring contrast between the two sides of the room - the heavy dread at the kitchen island and the carefree amusement by the couch - threw you off completely.

You shot a baffled look back at Luigi, who shrugged helplessly, clearly just as confused as you were.

"Can someone please tell us what the hell is going on here?" you demanded, stepping further into the room, the frustration lacing your voice.

"Mom, Dad - you look like someone fucking died," you gestured toward them, exasperated, then turned a sharp look on your sister. "And meanwhile, those two look like they’re having the time of their lives?"

Your mom finally sat up, dragging her hands down her face before shooting a withering glare toward the couch. "I don’t know what you two are laughing at, honestly," she said, her voice edged with irritation.

Celine leaned back against Ben, grinning, utterly unfazed.

“Come on, mom, chill! It’s not that bad. It’s kind of funny actually," she said, waving her hand in the air like that settled it.

Ben didn’t even bother trying to hide his grin – he was practically vibrating with excitement, clearly thriving in the moment.

You could feel the frustration bubbling in your chest, ready to spill over.

"Seriously, can someone please show us the pictures? You’re all pissing me off right now," you snapped, stalking over to where your dad sat. "Everyone’s glued to their phones, but no one's showing me or Luigi what the fuck is going on."

Your dad let out a heavy breath, turned his phone toward you, and muttered, "This is what’s going on."

You snatched the phone from his hand - and immediately regretted it. Fucking Daily Mail.

"Someone managed to take photos of you two last night, kissing" your mom explained, her voice tight. "The Daily Mail got hold of them and ran an article. Now the pictures are everywhere." She paused, grimacing. "There's a short video too."

You could feel your stomach plummet as you scrolled through the article. Luigi stepped up behind you, close enough for you to feel the warmth of him at your back as he tried to get a look over your shoulder.

"The video’s very short and grainy," your mom added quickly, like that would somehow help. "Thank God."

You barely registered her words. Your heart was thudding too loudly in your ears as you read the headline:

”Acquitted murderer Luigi Mangione, seen making out with Olivia, 27, at private wedding in Italy.”

You scowled. Really? They had to start with that?

You kept reading out loud, your voice dripping with disbelief.

”New York native Olivia, 27, daughter of high-profile attorneys Karen and Marc, also served as Mangione’s paralegal during his trial earlier this year. At the event last night in Tuscany, Italy, the pair appeared cozy, sharing kisses and lingering touches while hiding away at a parking lot.”

You flicked a glance over your shoulder at Luigi. His eyes were locked on the screen, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable.

You swallowed and turned back to the phone, scrolling further.

”This marks the first public sighting of Mangione since his acquittal earlier this summer. Despite keeping a low profile, Mangione has attracted a large following - both for the high-profile nature of his case and his striking looks. Although from the images captured, it seems he may no longer be on the market.”

The article was accompanied with a gallery of grainy images, all taken with what seemed to be a phone camera as you and Luigi stood waiting for the car to take you home the night before.

The photos were painfully candid - you leaned against the stone wall, Luigi kissing you with one hand tangled in your hair, pressing up against you, other hand firmly on your ass. And to complete the public humiliation? There was a very clear shot of him grabbing your boob. This would definitely be haunting you forever. Just perfect.

With a grimace, you pressed play on the short video tucked at the bottom of the gallery, already knowing it was going to be bad. The screen flickered to life, showing you and Luigi making out against the wall in the same intimate moment.

It showed him tugging your hair back with a playful grin, and you laughing as his lips moved to your neck. His other hand grazing one of your breasts. You could already feel the heat in your cheeks as you watched, but then the video stopped abruptly - right when the car pulled up and its bright headlights interrupted the scene.

You handed the phone over to Luigi, feeling your cheeks flame with heat, and sank down onto one of the kitchen stools. You dropped your head into your hands.

This was mortifying.

"The Ricci’s are devastated," your mom said, pacing now, wringing her hands. "They’re trying to figure out how this even happened - they think the leak came from someone on the staff, not one of the guests. They’ve already called three times. They’re talking to the wedding coordinator, trying to track it down."

From the couch, Ben let out a short, incredulous laugh. "'Acquitted murderer'? What the hell does that even mean?" he scoffed.

"We’re trying to get them to at least change the headline, the PR team back home is on it" your mom said, visibly upset. She threw up her hands and started pacing again. "But it's already out there. It’s all over social media."

You could feel Luigi’s hand brush lightly against your back, a silent reassurance. You closed your eyes for a second, trying to gather yourself. This was a fucking mess.

"At least Liv looks super hot," Celine called out from the couch, still lazily scrolling through Ben’s phone. "We’re on TikTok now -  people are loving you."

"Celine!" your mom snapped, shooting her a sharp look.

"What?" Celine shrugged, putting her phone down and sitting up straighter. "It’s true. Just imagine what the TikTok comments would look like if there were pictures coming out of Luigi making out with someone mid."

"Enough. Now," your mom warned, her tone low and dangerous.

Celine just laughed, completely unbothered by the brewing crash out across the kitchen. Honestly, she did have a point - you couldn’t deny feeling a small flicker of relief that you at least looked good in the photos. It could’ve been so much worse.

Your mom rolled her eyes at Celine and Ben still giggling on the couch. "Clearly, we have very different definitions of humor in this family," she muttered under her breath.

"Lighten the fuck up," Celine shot back, throwing her arms dramatically over the back of the couch. "Seriously. I don’t even get what the big deal is. The photos are super hot, people think Liv’s a baddie, and let’s be real - this was never gonna stay a secret forever anyways."

She gestured vaguely toward you and Luigi, who caught your eye for a second. Was that a smile tugging at his lips?

"I mean, come on," Celine went on, undeterred. "They’re in their twenties, they’re coming back to New York at the end of the summer... what, were they supposed to stay locked inside forever?"

Your dad shook his head slowly, his voice low and tired. "It’s just the timing of it," he said. "I thought we’d fly under the radar a bit going back to New York for the civil cases this week. Now Luigi’s splashed across every gossip page the day before we head back? Great. This will be absolute chaos."

Celine didn’t even glance up from her phone. "I’m just saying - thank God the pictures turned out hot." She leaned into Ben’s shoulder, thumbing through her TikTok feed, not seeming to care one bit about your dads’ concerns.

”You should get this framed, seriously?” Celine tilted her phone toward you, showing you and Luigi another shot of you leant back against the wall, his hand in your hair. “Look at it – it’s fucking iconic”.

"Good God, Celine!" your mother exploded, rising abruptly from her seat. "Can you take anything seriously for five minutes?"

Celine blinked, genuinely perplexed. "I am being serious. Imagine this blown up - like, 28 by 40 inches. It would look amazing above your fireplace Liv. It’s sexy as hell."

You bit your lip, stifling the laugh that bubbled in your throat. The last thing you wanted was to push your mom over the edge. Still, part of you saw the humor in it.

Obviously, you realized this situation was not ideal, and you respected your dads’ concerns - his and Luigi’s trip back to New York tomorrow was already carrying its own weight, and with pictures of you and Luigi making out splashed across social media, the spotlight would only grow harsher.

The timing was horrible. What was meant to be a private moment had turned into another headline, and you hated that it might add pressure to an already difficult return.

You looked at Luigi - calm, collected, always trying his best to stay composed. Your heart tugged painfully with guilt. He didn’t need another complication. Not now. Not right before going back to the city where everything had once unraveled.

But at the same time - it could have been a lot worse. Knowing what you and Luigi had been up to in the bathroom at the wedding, you were just happy the pictures were fully clothed.

“TikTok is going crazy, my god” Celine smiled at her phone, scooting over on the couch to make room. She waved a hand toward you and Luigi. “Come here. You need to see this.”

You glanced at Luigi while Same Damn Time by Future blasted from Celine’s phone. He was now wearing a half-smile - both puzzled and amused at the same time. He gave a slight shrug, shaking his head, then followed you over to the couch.

You settled beside Celine, her thigh pressed against yours, while Luigi took the seat on your other side, his expression cautious, curious. He leaned in slightly, eyes flickering between the screen and your face.

Celine scrolled rapidly through her TikTok. Nearly every other video was an edit featuring last night’s photos or video clip -  all set to increasingly absurd music choices.

“The comments are so funny too” Celine said between giggles. “Some people are having full-blown meltdowns about Luigi being off the market of course, that’s expected - but honestly? Liv, no one’s seem to be coming for you. It’s weirdly... supportive?”

“People are actually being kind of sweet,” Ben added with a grin, leaning over to peek at her phone. “Also, pretty much everyone seems to agree that you’re gorgeous.”

You laughed under your breath, partly from nerves. You reached over and took Celine’s phone, holding it so you and Luigi could both get a closer look. He leaned in, shoulder brushing yours, eyes scanning the screen and the comments. He gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze.

@lulubalishirt The hand placementtttt 🫠

@mimi Passing out

@memyselfandi hottest soft launch in history

@kaitleeen Is she wearing his jacket?? she’s sooo pretty 😩

@adidashoodie idc who she is if Luigi’s smiling like that?? she’s the one ❤️

@luigisrobot I called this a fucking year ago and everyone called me crazy!!

@buzzy Can everyone just leave them tf alone?? Show some respect!!

@finley Anyone who knows where her dress is from? So cute

@teliyah I have no problem being her sister wife tbh

@nat He set the bar sooo high!! I need a man to touch me like that 👅

@kiara THE WAY I SCREAMED karen is mother in LAW fr

@delulu4lulu Wait is that girl who I think it is??? 💀

@mangooo Get your hands off MY MANNNN

@sexxytwerker GET ITTT LULU 🫦 love it when pretty people date other pretty people

@mrsmangione I’m crashing tf oooout

@liz Is that Karens daughter?? Omg loooove thissssss for him 🥰

@jj Please I beg of all of you don’t get weird!! He deserves this so much. SHE IS CUTE 😍

@alyssa Why is that car pulling up? We were just getting to the good part

@katiekay the driver pmo

@luluismine Is he grabbing her boob? I’m actually deceased.

@ellie This is hoooot 🔥 beauty and brains x 2

@bebeboo  this is a sex tape I would watch

A flush crept up your cheeks - part embarrassment, part something softer, warmer, more difficult to name. You stole a glance at Luigi. He was reading too, the corners of his mouth twitching in a silent effort to suppress laughter.

And in that moment, something settled inside you.

No, it wasn’t perfect. Far from it. But truthfully - it wasn’t a disaster either.

Celine snatched the phone back from your hand, fingers dancing across the screen as she flipped between apps.

“You’re trending on X too,” she murmured, brows furrowed. “They’re digging through all your old tweets. You need to lock down all your socials and go private. Like, now.”

“I don’t think I’ve used X in years,” you said with a shrug, glancing back at Luigi. “It’s not like I’m Mr. PhD over here.”

“It was funny, admit it,” Luigi said, smirking.

“It was,” Ben agreed with a grin. “Top-tier humor.”

A laugh slipped from your lips just as your mom emerged, moving toward you and perching on the edge of the couch. She looked more composed now - or at least no longer on the brink of a hysteric meltdown. She sighed, deeply.

“Celine, you’re probably right,” she said at last. “It would’ve leaked eventually, probably end of summer when you were back in New York. I just wish we’d had more time to prepare. To frame the narrative. To take control of the story a bit better.”

Her phone buzzed in her lap. One glance at the screen and her expression shifted.

“It’s the PR team again,” she said, rising to her feet. “I need to take this.” She disappeared into the study, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

Celine turned to you and Luigi, her hand finding your thigh in a reassuring squeeze.

“How are you feeling?” she asked gently, before her voice dropped into something more amused. “I totally understand that this is not ideal, but honestly - given the fact that the two of you had actual sex on the premises right before this... you should be grateful these pictures weren’t worse.”

Luigi let out a strangled laugh, rubbing both hands over his face.

“Celine, fuck” you hissed, whipping your head around to check who might’ve heard. “Keep your voice down, please?”

Your mom was still on the phone in the study, and your dad was rummaging in the refrigerator, oblivious.

“Agreed,” Ben added, chuckling. “You two dodged a bullet big time.”

The door to the study creaked open again, and your mom stepped back into the room, phone still pressed to her ear. Her expression was tight but no longer frantic.

“Okay,” she said, ending the call with a tap and letting the phone drop to her side. “The PR team says things are looking good so far. The general response is... surprisingly positive. And we finally got The Daily Mail to change that awful headline.”

She paused, her tone shifting toward a kind of weary amusement.

“It’s now ‘Italian Heartthrob Luigi Mangione Off the Market.’ Not ideal, but hey, it’s a hell of an improvement from the last one.”

She leaned over and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“People seem to like you two together,” she said with a small, tired smile.

“I told you,” Celine looked triumphant, her eyes gleaming. “Liv is officially LuigiTok approved.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t quite hide your grin.

“Well, let’s just keep a low profile for a few days,” your mom added, her voice shifting back into strategy mode. She met your gaze squarely. “And be prepared to have old photos or stories resurfacing, okay? There will always be someone trying to stir the pot, especially now that there’s a story to spin.”

You and Luigi slipped back upstairs to your room to get dressed for breakfast, the door closing softly behind you as you could finally exhale. After the whirlwind of the morning, you needed a moment to collect yourselves.

As soon as the door clicked,  the two of you caught each other's eyes - and immediately burst into laughter.

“Oh my fucking God,” you gasped between fits of laughter, your back pressed against the door, head tilted toward the ceiling. Luigi sat on the edge of the bed, grinning wide, laughter rumbling from his chest.

The tension melted off you both like steam, anxiety replaced by something lighter.

You walked over and settled into his lap, your arms draping around his shoulders as his wrapped around your waist. He looked up at you, warmth in every line of his face.

“That was... quite the morning,” you said with a small smile.

“It was,” he agreed, chuckling softly.

“How do you feel?” you asked, running your fingers gently along the stubble on his jaw.

There was a hesitation in your voice – this wasn’t about you, it was concern for him. You were obviously tangled in this mess together now, but it was his name in the headlines. His face everywhere. And your only wish was to protect him from more harm.

“I’m okay,” he said, his voice steady. “Honestly, we always knew this would come out eventually. It is what it is.” He paused, brushing a hand along your side. “The only reason I got stressed was you. I never want you to go through the kind of scrutiny my exes had to deal with just for choosing to be with me.”

You felt your chest tighten. This was so him - to be more worried about your well-being than his own. You leaned in and kissed him softly, then pulled back, studying him.

“But what about you, seriously?” you asked quietly. “How do you feel about more photos of you floating around? About people dissecting your every move all over again?” Your voice faltered slightly. “There was so much of that when you were in jail. And now this. I just hate that you have to go through another round of it.”

He leaned back a bit, still holding you close, his smile crooked.

“You know what?” he said, eyes glinting. “Having your whole life picked apart by the public, from childhood through incarceration, with no way to defend yourself – it teaches you something. Something brutal but freeing.”

He cupped your cheek, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with quiet intensity.

“I had to learn - really learn - that absolute zero of my worth as a person comes from other people’s acceptance or approval. Not one ounce of it.” His thumb brushed your skin, a soft contrast to the firmness in his voice. “It took a while to wrap my brain around the concept. But once it clicked? Game changer.”

And with that, he pulled you into a kiss - slow, sure, grounding. His hands moved up your back, holding you tight.

You suddenly pulled back from the kiss, laughter erupting from your chest again.

“I swear to God,” you said between gasps, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “When my mom said intimate pictures? I have never been closer to a heart attack in my life.”

Luigi laughed with you, collapsing into your neck with a groan of amusement.

“I had this full-blown panic,” you giggled, clutching his arms. “Like, what if there were cameras in the bathroom or something?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, one eyebrow raised, his mouth curled into a teasing grin.

“Well,” he said dryly, “that would've been a hard launch, if there ever was one.”

Chapter Text

While Luigi headed back downstairs to make breakfast - he’d sworn last night, still drunk, that he’d make you pancakes in the morning - you took the opportunity to change out of the robe and tank top you’d slept in.

You pulled on a cream-colored Zimmerman set - soft knitted shorts and a matching short-sleeved polo with delicate cutout detailing. Casual and comfortable, but polished. You tied the drawstring at your waist, gave your reflection a quick once-over, and turned to your phone lying on the desk.

The screen lit up the moment you picked it up and your eyes went wide.

The number of notifications was staggering. More than thirty missed calls, texts piling up in group chats, Instagram DMs overflowing. Your friends back home had seen the pictures of you and Luigi, and you could practically hear the chorus of gasps and squeals from halfway across the world.

Abi: LIV PICK UP YOUR FUCKING PHONE NOW

Emma: Mrs Mangione, we need a debrief immediately

Hannah: The jumpscare when you showed up on my tiktok fyp first thing in the morning was real lol

Emma: Right?? I did a double take, like that’s not who I think it is loool

Jade: Living it up in Italy for sure 🔥

Hannah: Pizza, wine, PDA 🤣

Stella: We’ve been waiting for this for a while

Jade: So happy for you angel, you and Luigi look so fucking perfect together

Stella: You really dooooo so so pretty ❤️

Abi: Can’t wait for you to come back home!! Need drinks and double dates like NOW

Warmth was blooming in your chest as you scrolled. You couldn’t help but laugh at the mix of excitement, confusion - and the inevitable teasing.

It’s not like they hadn’t had their suspicions before. Luigis name had slipped into conversations often, sometimes for no real reason at all, and your friends had definitely picked up on it. They’d dropped hints here and there, teasing you lightly about him staying on your mind, but always with care. They respected the professional boundary you’d always maintained, admired how seriously you took your work. So even if they might have wondered, they never pushed.

But now? Now the guessing game was over. And judging by the chaos lighting up your phone, they were living for it.

You set the phone back down on the desk with a smirk. A part of you enjoyed knowing they were spinning with curiosity, piecing things together from TikTok edits and blurry photos.  They would get the tea eventually, but for now - they could wait a little longer for the full story.

Besides, this was Luigi’s last day here before he and your dad flew back to New York for the civil case arraignments - and you weren’t going to waste a single minute of it being on your phone.

As you made your way downstairs, the smell of something sweet and buttery wafted through the air. Celine and Ben had moved from the couch to the kitchen island, perched on stools, chatting casually keeping Luigi company while he moved through the kitchen with effortless rhythm.

He was in his element - pouring pancake batter into the skillet, flipping with finesse, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up to his elbows.

Outside, your parents were already in the pool having their morning swim, their voices faint through the open doors.

Celine glanced up as she spotted you.

“They found your Spotify,” she said, barely containing her grin.

You blinked, confused for a moment - then it clicked. LuigiTok had done what they always did - dug deep. Apparently, this time deep enough to find your last untouched sliver of online presence which was the Spotify account you hadn’t thought to set to private.

You groaned, half-laughing, as you slumped onto the stool across from Celine and Ben. “Oh, God. Of course they did. But seriously, what could they possibly have found on my Spotify that could be of any interest?”

Celine smirked and scrolled through her phone. “Well,” she said, drawing out the word with dramatic flair, “you do have a playlist named LNM” she paused. “with a pizza emoji.”

Luigi, halfway through pouring another pancake, paused and turned to look at you. His face lit up with laughter.

“Yeah, they figured that one out real quick,” Celine said, eyes wide with amusement.

You shook your head, laughing and looking over at Luigi. “That’s the playlist you gave me when we had just met, remember?”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Wait - how the hell did you send her a Spotify playlist from jail?”

Luigi wiped his hands on a dish towel, then placed two bowls on the marble counter, one brimming with strawberries, the other with blueberries. He looked up, smiling quietly.

“I didn’t,” he said. “I wrote it down on paper - old school. Liv made the playlist when she got home.”

Your heart swelled at the memory.

You could picture it as clearly as if it were yesterday - the way you’d tried so hard to appear unbothered that day at the MDC, sitting across from Luigi in that sterile little visiting room. It had been at the end of one of your regular meetings, when he’d slid the folded paper across the table, his expression unreadable.

Later, finally out of sight from your mom and Jacob, your hands had trembled as you unfolded the note. A list of songs, handwritten in his careful, adorable scrawl. Just for you.

Celine pressed a hand dramatically to her chest. “That is so cute and romantic. You never told me that, Liv.”

You smiled, glancing down at the marble counter. “Well… this wasn’t exactly something I felt like sharing at the time.”

Ben let out a soft whistle. “Okay, that’s kind of adorable, I’ll admit that.”

“Kind of?” Celine snorted. “That’s rom-com level cuteness.”

You looked up again and found Luigi’s gaze waiting for you, steady and warm. Your stomach flipped.

”So, let me get this straight…” Ben broke the silence with a grin, pointing between you and Luigi. “This was back when you were not into each other? Got it.”

You laughed. “I think I was still technically with Eric, actually.”

Ben groaned, tilting his head back and dragging a hand over his face. “Jesus. I almost feel bad for the guy. Imagine your biggest opp is literally incarcerated - and he still manage to steal your girl?”

Luigi chuckled low under his breath but didn’t look up. He was focused again on flipping pancakes, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitch.

“Unreal,” Ben added, shaking his head. “That’s not even healthy competition. That’s just… game over.”

Celine took a sip of her coffee, unbothered. “Well, you know what they say,” she said, as if quoting scripture, “Never let your boyfriend stand in the way of meeting your future husband.”

You burst out laughing, choking on your own breath. “Celine, please”.

She just raised her mug in a toast. “To impeccable romantic timing and staying toxic.”

Luigi finally looked up, grinning. “Remind me never to get on her bad side.”

Celine turned back to her phone.

“Anyway,” Celine continued, as her thumb scrolled, “That playlist is now getting a full-blown lyrical analysis. I’m talking deep dives, annotated meanings, entire personality theories based on the songs on it.”

You groaned, laughing under your breath. ”Of course.”

“Oh - and there are TikTok edits to at least half of them already,” she added, flipping her phone around for you to see. “Since there are only, like, two decent clips of you, they’re edited by everyone. It’s the hair tug boob grab combo from the wedding and that one short video clip of you walking behind mom from some court appearance. Over and over again.”

“Perfect,” you said with a giggle, resting your elbow on the counter and hiding your face behind your hand.

Ben leaned in, peering at the screen. “Okay, I need to be serious for a minute” he said, glancing up at you with a smirk. “You getting felt up against that wall? Paired with My All by Mariah Carey? Hits hard.”

You couldn’t help to laugh out loud. Luigi just shook his head, flipping a pancake with a wide smile on his face.

…

The rest of the day moved along at a slow, comforting pace. Your parents spent nearly all of it tucked away in the study, working through the final bits of legal paperwork before the trip back to New York. The soft murmur of their voices and the occasional creak of a chair or rustle of paper were the only clues that they were still there, quietly preparing for the upcoming arraignments.

Ben and Celine, on the other hand, kept active. Today marked exactly ten months until their wedding, and Celine had officially declared it the start of “Project Wedding Boot Camp” – a concept she was trying to frame as a joke to not come across as too obnoxious, but you all knew she was dead serious.

She had declared over breakfast, with a planner, three highlighters, and a bottle of green juice in hand, that she and Ben needed to be in peak physical condition on their wedding day. According to her, this was not just for themselves, but for the perfect wedding photos she envisioned showing their grandchildren someday.

The schedule for today involved a morning hike in the mountains and a poolside Pilates session in the afternoon, much to Ben’s groaning dismay – but he knew better than to challenge Celine on anything wedding related, even if it robbed him of a chill day by the pool.

You and Luigi, though, spent the day in your own little lazy bubble, in a world of your own. You both knew this was your last full day together before he flew back to New York with your dad, and that knowledge settled quietly between you, casting a soft, bittersweet glow over everything.

Every look, every touch, every laugh carried more weight than usual, and though you tried to keep things light, you could feel the ache growing in your chest as the hours passed.

There was a slow, crawling anxiety starting to take root inside you - quiet at first, but as the hours slipped by and his departure loomed closer, the emotions became harder to ignore. This would be the first time you’d been apart since admitting your love for each other, and you weren’t sure how to prepare for it.

It was like your heart had grown used to having him nearby, like your entire body had begun to lean toward him instinctively, without thinking. You’d never considered yourself a clingy person before, but lately? It felt like he couldn’t leave the room without you counting the seconds until he came back. He had almost started to feel like a drug to you, not a want but a need. Comforting, addictive.

Now, you were curled up on the living room couch, wrapped in your favorite throw blanket, waiting for him to return from upstairs where he’d gone to grab a book. You stared at the staircase like a loyal puppy, ears pricked for the sound of his footsteps.

Every creak made your heart jump just a little, hoping it was him. And then, finally, he appeared - turning the corner with that familiar, easy smile that somehow made the whole room feel warmer. You were so ridiculously in love with him.

“There’s my gorgeous girl,” he smiled as he came down the stairs, holding the book in one hand. “Did you miss me, baby?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you lifted the edge of the blanket as a silent invitation, your eyes soft. He smiled even wider, as he came downstairs and knelt beside you on the couch, placing the book down on a nearby pillow before lowering himself gently onto you. His weight settled across your body in the most grounding, comforting way - warm and solid and present.

He tucked his arms under your back and around your waist, pulling you into a full-body hug that felt like being wrapped in sunlight. His breath was warm against the side of your neck, and his chest rose and fell in sync with yours, slow and steady. The moment felt so perfect, so safe, it almost broke you.

A sudden wave of emotion rose inside you, unexpected and overwhelming. You could feel the tears prickling behind your eyes, but you squeezed them shut, trying to keep them in. You didn’t want to ruin this moment with crying. Still, your throat tightened, your heart squeezed, and all you could do was press yourself closer to him.

You were so completely, hopelessly in love with him it made your chest ache.

And right then, you weren’t sure how you were going to let him go.

As if he could feel the shift in you - like the sadness had somehow seeped into the air between you - he propped himself up gently on his elbows. His hazel eyes scanned your face, soft and full of quiet concern.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, his voice low and tender, as he reached up to brush a few strands of hair away from your face. His fingers lingered, tracing lightly along your cheekbone with that same familiar gentleness that always made you feel safe.

You swallowed hard and looked away, not trusting yourself to meet his eyes. “I don’t know,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. You hated the wobble in it, the way your throat felt tight. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to make it heavier than it already was. This was just you being clingy and ridiculous.

But he didn’t look convinced. His gaze stayed on you, steady and loving. “You do know,” he said quietly, offering a small, knowing smile. “Talk to me, baby.”

He shifted beside you, rolling onto his side while still keeping close. His back rested against the pillow, and he pulled you with him, your bodies still pressed together. One of his hands slid beneath the hem of your shirt, his fingers warm as they found your skin. He began to trace slow, soothing circles across your stomach - soft, absent-minded touches that didn’t fix the anxiety raging inside of you, but it helped. Just a little.

You took a shaky breath. “It’s stupid,” you whispered, still not looking at him.

“Then let me hear the stupid thing,” he said, nudging his nose gently against your temple. “I love your stupid things.”

That made you let out a soft laugh, though it was more of a broken breath. Your eyes welled up again, and this time you let them.

“I just… I don’t want you to go,” you admitted finally. “I know it’s only a few days, and that you have to go – and that I’m just being ridiculous. But it feels like I’m going to fall apart the second you leave.”

You closed your eyes, and he kissed the center of your forehead - soft and slow, like he was trying to press comfort straight into your skin.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” you whispered.

“I’m going to miss you too,” he murmured. “So much it already hurts. But it’s just a few days, okay? I will be back in no time.”

You nodded, but didn’t answer. Instead, you curled yourself tighter into him, letting his warmth and the steady rhythm of his breathing lull you into a fragile sort of calm. But you still couldn’t settle fully.

After a long pause, your voice came out in a quiet, raw whisper. “I know I’m being super weird about this, but… I have this irrational fear that they’re going to take you away from me.”

He tensed ever so slightly beside you, but said nothing, letting you speak.

“There’s just an instinct deep inside of me that tells me this is wrong, letting you go back to New York. It feels like I’m sitting by and watching you do something dangerous, even though I know that’s not rational at all.” You paused for a brief moment.

“I know it’s just my brain reacting to everything you’ve been through – everything I’ve seen you go through. Me trying to protect you.” You took a deep breath. “But I just can’t shake this scary feeling. Like someone’s going to take you while you’re there. Lock you up again. Take you from me.”

You swallowed hard, embarrassed for being so emotional, irrational. Maybe you should’ve kept this to yourself – these thoughts you had was not his problem, nothing he should even have to worry about.

“I think it also has to do with how perfect these last weeks have been,” you said quietly, your eyes searching his. “Sometimes being with you feels like… like a dream I’m afraid to wake up from. Like this can’t possibly be real. I mean, how could I be this lucky?”

You let out a soft, shaky sigh. “And I guess it triggers my catastrophizing tendencies. Like if it’s this good, something bad must surely happen soon. My brain just won’t let me believe I get to have this – you - without some kind of catch.”

He didn’t respond right away.

He looked caught off guard, his face shifting subtly – like something had stirred in him too. His hand stilled against your stomach, and his dark brows pulled together ever so slightly. You could see his throat move as he swallowed, eyes searching yours.

“I didn’t mean to freak you out,” you added quickly, your voice shaky now. “I just needed to say it. I know I sound batshit crazy.”

“No,” he said softly, cutting you off. “It’s not crazy.”

His voice was quiet but firm, and his hand began to move again, this time more purposefully, stroking slow, soothing lines across your side.

“It’s not crazy,” he repeated. “What happened to me… It hasn’t just affected me. You and your family were such a big part of it all, that of course you feel protective. Of course your brain is trying to make sense of the danger, even now that I’m safe. It doesn’t have to be logical. It’s trauma.”

He leaned in and kissed your temple.

“I hate that you feel this way. I hate that you’re scared.”

You blinked, the tears threatening again, and this time you didn’t bother to stop them. They slid down your cheeks quietly as he pulled you closer, arms wrapping more tightly around you.

“I’ll be careful,” he whispered. “I’ll be safe. I’ll call you every morning and every night. I’ll text you and tell you everything I’m doing, where I am.”

You nodded again, tears soaking into his shirt, but your breathing slowed a little. Then you let out a small laugh.

“Why am I like this?” you mumbled, pressing your forehead against his collarbone. “Why am I the one crying and being all dramatic when you’re the one going away to defend yourself? Now you have to comfort me on top of everything else. I’m sorry, baby. I’m not exactly much of a support system lately, am I?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, and the way he smiled at you made your chest tighten all over again.

“Just the presence of you is all the support system I need,” he said gently, brushing a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

You gave him a watery chuckle and shook your head. “Not much else to get from me at the moment, unfortunately.”

He didn’t argue. He didn’t need to. He just kept looking at you like you were enough.

“But you,” you added, nudging your nose against his jaw, “it’s like you have this superpower of always making me feel so safe. Mentally safe, emotionally safe, physically safe.  All of it. I love you so much for that.”

He leaned in and kissed you, slow and sure, before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze again, his eyes warm and steady.

You exhaled, finally feeling a bit lighter. “Okay. Whatever. Let’s talk about something else,” you said, trying to break the emotional wave that had swept through you. “Tell me what you’re reading.”

He smiled, recognizing the shift in your tone but not questioning it. Instead, he reached over to the pillow beside him, grabbing the book and holding it up so you could see the cover.

“I just started Butcher, Joyce Carol Oates’s latest,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to lean more into fiction lately. This one’s kind of a hybrid - it’s based on real historical documents from a women’s asylum in the nineteenth century but told through a fictional lens. It’s eerie and beautiful. Oates is a phenomenal storyteller.”

You raised your eyebrows. “I haven’t read that one. I think the only ones I remember from her are My Sister, My Love and Foxfire. But yeah… I do love her writing. It’s intense, but in a good way.”

He nodded thoughtfully, then tilted his head slightly. “Want me to read to you for a bit?”

You smiled, eyes softening again. “Yes, please.”

He shifted slightly, adjusting his position so that your head could slid into his lap, your cheek cushioned against his thigh. His hand found your hair almost immediately, fingers stroking gently through the strands as he settled in. He opened the book with one hand, the other never leaving you.

Then came his voice - low, dark, and deliberate. He read with an easy confidence, unhurried and steady, letting the words stretch and settle in the air. It was the kind of voice you could float in, deep and grounding all at once.

You closed your eyes, lulled by the rhythm of his reading and the soothing circles his fingertips traced across your scalp. Every now and then, he’d pause for breath or turn a page.

“You should do audiobooks for a living,” you murmured sleepily. “Seriously. Your voice is the most calming thing in the world.”

He laughed under his breath and kept reading.

The story wove around you like a lullaby - strange, haunting, but comforting too, in the way his voice made everything feel just a little safer, a little softer. A little more okay.

And as your breathing slowed and your body grew heavier, you felt yourself slipping into that quiet, weightless place between waking and sleep. That gentle in-between where the world is softer, and nothing - absolutely nothing - hurt.

Chapter Text

You weren’t sure how long you had slept like that – comfortably cradled and safe in the lap of the most perfect man you’d ever met, the man you were so painfully, brutally in love with.

You woke slowly, pulled back to consciousness by the soft hum of voices and the gentle vibrations of Luigi’s chest as he spoke.

“She looks so peaceful,” you could hear your mom coo nearby. “How long has she been sleeping like that?”

“A little more than an hour,” Luigi replied, his voice careful and low, as if he didn’t want to risk waking you.

But you were already awake, your eyes fluttering open as your body stirred. You stretched with a sleepy sigh and wrapped your arms around Luigi’s waist, grounding yourself in his warmth.

Feeling your movement, Luigi closed his book with a soft thump, set it aside, and ran his fingers gently over your hair.

“Sorry for waking you, sweetheart” he murmured. “You can sleep a little longer, if you want.”

You smiled up at him, your voice still thick with sleep. “It’s okay. If I nap any longer, I won’t sleep tonight. I just got so comfortable... and your voice is way too soothing.”

He chuckled under his breath. “I noticed. I think you were out before I finished the first chapter.”

Your mom stepped closer and settled at the end of the couch by your feet, placing a warm hand on Luigi’s leg.

“Your dad wants to head down to Da Eraldo for dinner. Celine and Ben are joining us. But I figured you might want to stay back, start getting ready for tomorrow - pack a bit, spend some quiet time.” She glanced toward Luigi, clearly extending the offer without pressure.

You felt a wave of relief. The last thing you needed tonight was a noisy, crowded restaurant. Not today. You just wanted to stay close to him. As close as possible, for as long as possible.

“Yeah, I think we’ll sit this one out,” Luigi agreed and scrunched his nose. “I’m a light packer, but I still need to get my things in order tonight. It’s a really early flight tomorrow.”

Your mom gave his leg a gentle squeeze. “How are you feeling about tomorrow, all of it? About going back to New York?”

Luigi shrugged lightly. “Honestly? I’d much rather stay here obviously. But I know it has to be done. I feel okay about it knowing it’s only for a few days. And going with Marc makes it easier - I know we’ll have a good time regardless.”

Just then, your dad appeared in the living room, grinning. “We sure will. Since we’re staying at the apartment downtown, I’ve already got a few restaurant reservations secured – we can’t just work and not have any fun. We need some guy time too.”

Your mom smiled at the two of them, her gaze softening. “We’ll miss you so much while you’re away. I’m getting too used to having you around. The house will feel so quiet without your constant yapping from morning to night.”

You and Luigi both laughed.

“Enjoy the silence while you can,” Luigi teased.

“No, but really,” she said, her expression turning more tender. “Your presence here is truly... comforting. I didn’t even realize how much until now. It means a lot to me. It’ll feel strange not having you here.”

“Mom,” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “You’re being more dramatic about this than me - and he’s my boyfriend. He’s only gone for a few days.”

“I know, I know,” she said with a sheepish chuckle. “It’s just... you feel like the new baby of the family. We’ll miss our little sweetie.”

You reached out and grabbed her arm. “Mom, please, you need to stop. You’re getting super weird. Luigi might never come back if you keep acting this psycho.”

But then you caught it - a shimmer in her eyes, the way her mouth pressed into a tight line. You knew that look. She was just like you, and you could see her anxiety mirrored in your own. You didn’t have the heart to tease her anymore.

“Karen, no - don’t feel bad,” Luigi said gently as he caught the shift in her, sitting up to reach for her.

“Mom,” you smiled softly, your voice now low with understanding. “Come here. I want to give you a hug.”

She hesitated for a second, then wiped her eyes and leaned in, letting both you and Luigi pull her into a warm embrace. The three of you held each other there, cocooned in a tangle of comfort and affection.

Just then, Celine and Ben came in from the pool, breathless and sweaty from their intense Pilates session. Ben looked like he was on the brink of collapse - but perked up the second he saw the three of you tangled on the couch.

“Okay… what the hell is going on here?” he said, eyebrows raised in exaggerated disbelief, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Is this what a professional attorney-client relationship looks like to you, Karen? Because from where I’m standing, this is starting to look ethically… questionable at best.”

He folded his arms across his chest, smirk sharpening. “I mean, come on now - I know Vanessa would find this highly inappropriate.”

Your mom sat up straight in mock indignation as Ben approached the couch.

“You know I’m just joking Karen. I love your unprofessional side”. He paused, eyeing you with theatrical contemplation. “Actually, you know - what the hell? Make some room. I’m coming in.”

And without waiting for permission, he flung himself down onto the couch, landing squarely atop of your mom, who squealed in mock protest as she fell backward onto you and Luigi again. The heap of bodies shifted and squirmed, in a chaos of laughter.

”Our Shayla!” Ben cried out dramatically, as he tried to wrap his arms around all of you.

You all burst out laughing again, your mom’s voice rising above the rest. “You’re absolutely soaked in sweat, Ben!” she groaned, trying to push him off with limited success. “Now go take a shower and stop playing around!”

…

After Celine and Ben had showered and dressed for dinner, your family gathered in the hallway, waving goodbye to you and Luigi still curled up on the couch.

You stayed there for a while longer - Luigi quietly reading his book, and you finally replying to some of the more urgent texts from your friends. You’d planned to wait until tomorrow to respond, but you didn’t have the heart to leave them hanging any longer.

You lay tucked against him, your head resting on his bicep, phone in hand, screen lighting up and buzzing every few seconds as new messages poured in.

“Whoa,” Luigi glanced over at the sound, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of notifications you’ve got there.”

“You’re a hot topic,” you smirked, still typing. Your head bounced a little against his arm as he chuckled.

After a while, you locked your phone and sighed, setting it face down on your chest. “Okay, I’m done. There are way too many questions to answer by text. I’ll have to just call them tomorrow and explain everything. They’re losing their minds over this.”

Reaching for your phone again, you decided to put on some music. With a few swipes, you opened Spotify, your fingers instinctively navigating to the LNM playlist - the one that had somehow become the topic of the day.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you tapped play and connected your phone to the speakers, the opening notes and haunting melody of Wicked Games by Chris Isaak spreading softly through the room.

What a wicked game to play to make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do to let me dream of you
What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do to make me dream of you

You started giggling, glancing over at Luigi. He gave you a confused look.

“This is from the playlist you made me,” you smiled.

He tilted his head, focusing on the music. As recognition hit, a wide grin spread across his face.

“Oh. Right.” he laughed.

You leaned into him, voice teasing. “In retrospect, some of those songs were... bold choices. Like sir, this is a list of songs you are slipping on a note to a member of your legal team who also had a boyfriend at the time.”

Your hand drifted to his stomach, fingers grazing over the fabric of his shirt, tracing the firm lines beneath. You smiled up at him.

“Not to mention you were in the middle of a trial. One might assume you’d have had more pressing matters to focus on.”

He grinned, boyish and unguarded. “What can I say, I was locked in. And I’ve always had a high agency proactive personality.”

You giggled again and let yourself sink deeper into the music, as your hand slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, fingertips now brushing against his warm skin. It was smooth and firm beneath your touch, and you traced slow circles, feeling the quiet rise and fall of his breath.

The next verse came in, and neither of you said anything for a while.

The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do
I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

You let out another short laugh, as you sat up and stretched your legs. “Let’s get something to eat, shall we? Then we really need to go upstairs and get your packing done. It’s getting late.”

But as you stood, Luigi grabbed your wrist and pulled you gently back toward him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m getting food, I just told you”, you said, amused. “You need to eat, and then we need to pack. You leave before the sun’s even up.”

“That won’t take long,” he murmured, his eyes still on you.

You rolled your eyes, knowing where this was going. “Luigi, two t-shirts and a toothbrush won’t cut it this time. You are for sure going to be photographed at court. I want you to look at least semi-respectable.”

“It’s not a fashion show,” he said with a lazy smile.

“Absolutely shocking statement coming from the man who’s been dragged online for the last two years for rewearing the same three outfits since 2015”. You let out a small giggle. “Babe, you can’t show up in New York wearing a fit from high school.”

“You think you’re so funny and cool, huh?” he murmured, his voice lower now, grabbing your ass playfully. Then he just looked at you, his expression softening. “Well, you kind of are, aren’t you? I love you.”

He pulled you closer with a quiet urgency, drawing you down until your lips met his - softly at first, a tentative brush that deepened almost instantly. His mouth moved against yours with growing hunger.

“Don’t leave me just yet,” he murmured, his voice rough and low against your lips. His arms slid around your waist, holding you tighter as he gently guided you down into his lap.

You settled there with ease, legs straddling his hips, your breath catching as the warmth of his body pressed into yours. Your heart was racing, and you could already feel how hard he was beneath you.

“I actually am hungry,” he said, voice dropping into a tease, the corners of his mouth lifting in a slow smile. “Been starving all day.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Starving, huh?”

“Mhm,” he murmured, his smile deepening. “Wanna guess what I’m in the mood for?”

Your fingers found the back of his neck, tangling in his curls, while his hands returned to your hips with deliberate intent. His grip was firmer now.

“Baby...” you whispered with a breathless laugh, the sound catching in your throat as his mouth found the curve of your jaw. “You’re impossible. Now you’re just being a distraction.”

“Come on,” he whispered, lips grazing your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

Then he kissed you again - deeper this time. His strong arms tightened around you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go, as though the very thought of space between you was unbearable.

His fingers wandered lower down your ass, slipping beneath the hem of your shorts. The heat between your thighs pulsed insistently, spreading like wildfire with every inch he closed in. You moved against him instinctively, hips rolling forward in a needy rhythm, chasing the delicious friction that made your breath hitch, and a soft whimper escaped your lips.

His fingers found the delicate lace of your panties, brushing against the fabric. With a quiet hunger, he eased his way beneath, his fingers gliding lower along your skin. From behind, he finally reached your soaked folds, and he exhaled - a low, reverent sigh that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Always so wet and ready for me, princess,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his fingers slowly circling your entrance.

You arched your back without thinking, pressing yourself harder against his hand, desperate for more of him - more of that exquisite pressure that was quickly unraveling you. As you leaned over him, trying to get impossibly closer, he slowly pushed two fingers inside of you as a guttural sound rumbled in his chest - a growl, low and primal, spilling hot against your ear.

The sound he made was all it took to completely unravel you. Every nerve in your body lit up, your breath hitching as you leaned further over him, surrendering to the slow rhythm of his fingers moving in and out of you. He moved with intention, each push and each pause deliberate.

“I love your big hands,” you gasped, barely able to form the words.

“Yeah?” he murmured, the edge of a smirk in his voice. “Do my fingers inside of you like this feel good, baby? Do you want them deeper?”

You could only nod against the curve of his neck, too caught up in the overwhelming sensation to speak. He responded by pushing in deeper - drawing a cry from your lips as he hit just the right spot.

“You feel so tight on just my fingers, baby,” he groaned, his breath hot against your skin. “I have no idea how you are able to take my dick when I fuck you.”

The sound of his voice, low and wrecked with desire, sent a jolt straight through you. You clenched around his fingers at his words, body tightening instinctively.

And then, without warning, he let his fingers slip out of you, the sudden loss making you gasp. His hands moved to the waistband of your shorts, tugging at them.

“These cute little shorts,” he said, voice dark, “they’re in the way. Take them off.”

You didn’t hesitate. Silently, you rose to your feet, fingers trembling as you slid both your shorts and panties down your legs, letting them fall in a careless heap on the floor. His gaze dragged slowly up your body, hungry and admiring all at once.

When his eyes finally met yours, he caught his bottom lip between his teeth in that familiar, irresistible way - the smallest bite, subtle and deliberate. That tiny gesture, so effortless, that never failed to send a flush through you and make your stomach flutter.

“Now come back here,” he said, voice low and commanding. “Immediately.”

You climbed back into his lap, straddling him again. This time, nothing stood between your skin and his touch. His hands gripped your ass with renewed urgency, fingers digging in as he pulled you flush against him - no more patience. Just need, hot and overwhelming, crashing over you both.

“My perfect, gorgeous girl,” he murmured with a smile, voice thick.

Before you could respond, he shifted beneath you, sliding down the length of the couch until he was nearly lying flat, his head resting against the cushions. The sudden movement made you pause, your brows lifting in curiosity as you looked down at him.

He held your gaze, his eyes dark, the kind of look that made your skin prickle with anticipation. His lips parted slightly as he exhaled a slow breath, the tension between you thickening with every heartbeat. Then, in a voice rough and low, edged with authority, he spoke. “I want you to sit on my face.”

Heat coiled low in your belly, an ache that pulsed through you with every heartbeat. You could feel yourself throbbing - needy and wet, your body already trembling with anticipation.

A flicker of shyness came over you, but it was fleeting. With the way he looked at you, you couldn’t think of anywhere you’d rather be than on top of his gorgeous face.

His hands were firm on your hips, then slid down to your ass as he guided you upward, helping you shift your weight until your thighs straddled his head, your knees pressing into the cushions on either side. You hovered over him, breath shallow, heart pounding.

“Just like that,” he murmured, voice thick with hunger.

And then he pulled you down.

His mouth met you in a rush of sensation - warm, soft lips parting over your clit as he kissed you with the same reverence he kissed your mouth, only now there was nothing gentle in the way he devoured you. His tongue moved with purpose - teasing, tasting.

Your hands flew to the back of the couch, gripping tightly as your legs threatened to give out entirely. Every muscle in your thighs went liquid, trembling with the force of pleasure crashing through you. You gasped, head tipping back, unable to hold back the sounds pouring from your lips.

Beneath you, he moaned against you like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted. And in that moment, it felt like it might be the truth.

The angle, the pressure of his tongue as it moved against you, the relentless rhythm he kept like he already knew every need of your body - it was almost too much. And yet, you never wanted him to stop. The raw sensuality of having him beneath you, his strong hands anchoring you in place, his warm mouth against you - it stole the breath from your lungs.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. All you could do was feel.

Still bracing yourself with one hand against the couch, you let the other slide down to his head, fingers tangling in his curls as he worked you with unwavering focus. His tongue moved lower, slow and deliberate, teasing at your entrance with maddening precision.

The way his nose pressed firmly against your clit at this angle sent a shiver rippling through your body, your breath catching as sensation surged through you in waves.

“Luigi, oh my god” you cried out. “You’re fucking killing me.”

There was something almost overwhelming about surrendering like this - about letting go so completely.

Every stroke of his tongue, every low moan he gave against your skin, sent shockwaves through your body. You gave in to it, to him, without hesitation - because he wanted you undone, and you wanted nothing more than to have him unravel you.

The tension coiled inside you, a slow-burning buildup unlike anything you’d ever experienced – raw and consuming. Just as you felt your climax approaching, he suddenly slid two fingers inside you again from beneath, the movement seamless.

He curled his fingers upward with perfect precision, finding that spot that made your whole body go limb. His tongue returned to your clit, relentless and skilled, pushing you closer to your orgasm with every breathless second.

You cried out his name again and again, as your hips began to move in rhythm with his movements - chasing the rising wave of pleasure coursing through you.

When the orgasm finally tore through you, it blanked your mind completely - sight blurring, breath vanishing in your throat. You threw your head back with a cry that bordered on a sob, the pleasure so sharp and overwhelming it felt like it might break you.

Your legs shook uncontrollably, trembling so violently you feared you might crush him underneath you. Desperate for some relief from the relentless stimulation, you reached down, fingers wrapping around his wrist to still him.

“Luigi… fuck,” you gasped, voice ragged. “Baby, you have to stop - I…”

But the words froze in your throat as a sharp sound, right behind you, cut through the haze like a knife. Your mind went blank - not from pleasure this time, but from sheer, breath-stopping panic.

The front door. It was the sound of the front door opening.

Chapter Text

You cursed the goddamn open floor plan as you looked around in panic, still straddling Luigis face - and locked eyes with Celine just as she stepped through the front door.

For a moment, she froze. Her eyes went wide. Then she let out a scream.

Behind her, you heard your mom’s startled voice. “Celine, why in god’s name are you screaming like that? What’s going on?”

Your parents and Ben were still outside, luckily just out of sight of you and Luigi on the couch.

“My sunglasses!” Celine yelled out, turning around swiftly, blocking the entrance from the rest of your family. “Dad, Ben - quick! Stop the driver, I think I forgot them in the backseat of the car!”

You heard the scramble of footsteps on gravel as they rushed toward the driveway, shouting for the car that was already rolling away.

Before your brain could catch up, your body was already moving - ripping yourself from Luigi’s grip like you’d been hit with a jolt of electricity. Your legs barely worked, still shaking from aftershocks, but adrenaline shoved you forward. You flung yourself to the other end of the couch, skin burning with the shock of cold air and panic.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why the fuck were they back already?

Scrambling, you grabbed the throw blanket and yanked it around yourself, clutching it tight as your eyes darted frantically around the room. Where the hell were your shorts?

Luigi sat up, fast and wide-eyed for a second before the switch flipped. Then - calm as ever - he wiped his chin with the back of his hand, licked his lips, and somehow pulled himself together like he hadn’t just had his face buried between your thighs.

Celine leaned back in, gave you both a quick once-over, and shook her head in mock disapproval before turning back to the door.

“False alarm!” she shouted. “Turns out I wasn’t even wearing sunglasses. Sorry, guys - come back in.”

You clutched the blanket tighter, trying not to hyperventilate, still half-naked and thoroughly wrecked. Where were your fucking shorts?

Panic had just begun to really set in when Luigi, calm and quiet, reached down - scooping up your panties and your shorts from where they’d been discarded, and slid them under the blanket into your lap.

His fingers brushed your thigh briefly before he leaned back, throwing an arm over the couch like he was just casually hanging out – just as your family made their way inside, mumbling in the hallway, back to a heated discussion after Celines brief interruption.

“I wouldn’t say I was obsessed, that’s a stretch,” Ben’s voice rang out as he entered the living room first, talking over his shoulder. “I just thought it was a fascinating story. I didn’t even know what to believe - one day I was team Blake Lively, next day team Justin Baldoni. It kept evolving.”

“You weren’t obsessed? What are you talking about?” Celine scoffed, right behind him. “You subscribed to six different Substack’s on the topic. Six.”

“Forgive a man for having a fucking hobby,” Ben muttered, setting down two paper bags on the kitchen counter. “Besides, I mostly lurked. I only posted comments, like, twice.”

He turned toward the couch and spotted you and Luigi sitting stiffly on opposite ends.

“Hey, guys,” he said with a smirk. “Hope we’re not interrupting anything?”

You swallowed hard, trying to shimmy the last of your shorts on under the blanket without drawing too much attention. Your hands moved with panicked precision.

Luigi, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered. He was lounging back into the couch, his eyes following the activities in the kitchen as his lips curled in a faint, satisfied smirk.

Your dad walked in behind them, carrying another pair of bags. He paused mid-step, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You two seem... distant,” he said, looking between you and Luigi with mild suspicion. “Didn’t think we’d walk in and find you that far apart,” he added, gesturing at the space between you. “Almost expected to walk in on something rather the opposite.”

Celine slapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing, staring hard at the paper bag in front of her on the marble counter. She didn’t dare meet your eyes, and for that, you were profoundly grateful. One look from her at this moment would have been the end of you.

“We brought food,” your dad continued, oblivious - or pretending to be. “Place was packed, so we went with takeout instead. We got some for you guys too”.

“Mhm”, you smiled weakly, nodding, still clutching the blanket like your life depended on it. Beside you, Luigi gave your dad a bright, easy smile. No shame. Just that infuriating calm.

“Amazing, thank you” he said, voice smooth. “Smells incredible, Marc.”

“They didn’t have a table until ten,” your mom chimed in, already halfway into the fridge, retrieving a chilled bottle of white wine.

She gave a pointed look over her shoulder. “And that was just way too late, considering your early flight tomorrow. Marc needs his beauty sleep.”

You smiled stiffly as you took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. You had to relax – this was not the time to start spiraling. Closing your eyes, you tried to tap into Luigi’s almost ridiculous sense of calm.

The aftershocks of your intense orgasm just moments earlier still tingled through your body, adding to the awkwardness of the whole situation. But when you opened your eyes, you felt at least a  little more put together. And beyond grateful for the fact that it had been Celine who walked in first.

Ben, already halfway through unpacking containers, looked up dramatically.

“Do you even understand how thoughtful your dad is, Liv?” he said, grabbing a stack of plates. “The only thing he talked about the entire way back was you. ‘I just don’t want her to be hungry, my poor Liv’.”

Your dad beamed. “Always got my baby girl top of mind.”

Ben turned serious, placing a hand to his chest. “Liv. Celine. Do either of you truly appreciate the greatness that is your father? Do you comprehend how much your father does for you on a daily basis? The sheer amount of himself he sacrifices, quietly, tirelessly, without asking for a shred of credit?”

Without waiting for a response, he walked over to your dad, placed a reverent hand on his shoulder, and gave him a slow once-over. “And may I just say - your outfit tonight? Flawless. Crisp. Elegant. Underrated slay.”

Celine froze mid-step, blinking at him, looking utterly confused.

“What’s with all the unnecessary dickriding?” she asked flatly. “Do you owe him money or something?”

Ben gasped dramatically as he pulled out the food containers. “Wow. Just wow. I try to show some appreciation, and I get accusations. It’s always ‘Luigi this, Luigi that.’ But what about our sweetie pie Marc, who’s also leaving tomorrow? Just trying to give Marc the love and appreciation he deserves.”

Luigi let out a low chuckle from where he sat, visibly amused. Your mom smiled as she crossed the kitchen to your dad’s side, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Ben,” your dad said with a warm smile. “That really warms my heart.”

“You know we will miss you too, my sweetheart” your mom smiled. “Not just Luigi”.

You and Luigi made your way into the kitchen, following the others as everyone started filling their plates with food -  before heading out to the long outdoor dining table on the patio, where string lights twinkled beside the glow of the pool.

You and Celine stayed behind, lingering in the warm kitchen light as soft music played from the speaker, Luigi’s playlist still cycling through on shuffle.

The two of you moved quietly around each other, filling your plates. A moment of awkward silence stretched between you, undeniably charged with the memory of what Celine had just, unfortunately for both her and you, walked in on.

Then, just as you reached for a plate of roasted vegetables, Celine let out a stifled puff of laughter, the kind that had clearly been building for a while.

You shot her a sharp look, raising an eyebrow in warning.

She met it with a grin, unrepentant, still chuckling under her breath. You exhaled hard, set your plate down on the counter, and turned to face her fully.

“Just say it,” you said, resigned. “Get it out of your system.”

“I have absolutely nothing to say,” she replied, far too innocently, as she spooned a few olives onto her plate. “Other than… it definitely looked like you two were enjoying each other. Like - really enjoying each other.” She gave you a side glance, her smirk widening.

“It was hot, I’m happy for you. Truly. Even if that visual is now permanently seared into my brain and not something I ever needed to witness firsthand.”

You groaned, scrunching your face like the very thought physically pained you.

“But hey,” she added, laughing now, “let’s take a moment to be deeply thankful that dad wasn’t the first one to walk into the house.”

You laughed despite yourself, a flush of heat rising to your cheeks as you imagined how badly that could’ve gone.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, tipping your head back in despair. “I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever recover from how mortifying this is.”

“Stop it,” Celine said, still grinning as she reached for a paper napkin. “If anything, I just got a little inspiration for some new things to try with Ben.”

You scowled, scoffing. “Please. Like you’re seriously going to make me believe you’ve never sat on Ben’s face. I know you better than that.”

Celine snorted, eyes wide as she burst into laughter. “You’re disgusting.”

“You started it.”

She raised a brow as she turned toward the patio. “I would argue you and Luigi started it actually - with a very enthusiastic performance, might I add.”

…

After dinner, you and Luigi headed upstairs to his room to pack for his early morning flight. It didn’t take long - everything he needed could easily fit into a single backpack, which he was oddly proud of.

He launched into a passionate monologue on the beauty of traveling light - how it unshackled you from unnecessary burdens, made airport navigation smoother, and simplified decision-making on the road. He detailed the process of crafting the perfect packing list, the philosophy behind versatile clothing choices, and his firm belief that 90% of what most people brought with them was entirely dispensable.

You nodded along, half-listening, half amused. After a few minutes you decided to push back just a little, gently and strategically of course, casually suggesting a few extra options of clothing.

To your quiet satisfaction, he actually swayed a little, and with a reluctant shrug, he added an extra shirt and pair of pants that hadn’t been in the original lineup.

Now folded and ready in his backpack in time for the flight tomorrow were a few of his best outfits - a couple of crisp button-down shirts, his nicest pair of jeans, and two well-fitted dress pants. He’d look hot in court and the thought of it made you strangely pleased. You liked knowing he’d show up looking sharp, even if it was just for formalities.

Now, the house was quiet. You were lying in bed with Luigi behind you, his arms around your waist, his breath warm against the back of your neck. You could tell he wasn’t asleep yet - his breathing was too shallow, too uneven.

His body was still humming with energy, and to be fair, you weren’t exactly relaxed either. Something about the night felt unsettled, like your nerves were just beneath the surface, twitching.

After a long stretch of silence, Luigi’s voice brushed your ear in a soft whisper.

“You still awake, baby?”

“Yeah… having a hard time sleeping,” you murmured, turning your head slightly toward him, your fingers curling tighter around his hand.

“Me too,” he said, then fell quiet again.

A minute passed, maybe more.

“Wanna go for a walk?” he then asked suddenly.

You blinked. “A walk? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know,” he said, his voice low but somehow cheerful. “But it’s warm out. And I think I could use some fresh air.”

At first, it sounded ridiculous – why would you go for a walk at this hour? But as you thought about it, the idea began to feel more appealing. A quiet, late-night walk with Luigi… it didn’t actually sound so bad. It sounded kind of perfect.

You turned to face him fully, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s go for a walk.”

His entire face lit up, eyes gleaming, mouth stretching into a wide, boyish grin.

You both slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb the quiet of the house. Luigi pulled on a pair of shorts and a black sweatshirt, while you - already in your favorite strawberry-printed Olivia von Halle pajama set - wandered over to his wardrobe and grabbed one of his hoodies, the soft gray one you always reached for.

It hung loose and oversized on your frame, the sleeves falling past your wrists as you tugged it over your head. The scent of him clung to the fabric - something clean and earthy, with a hint of that cologne he never remembered the name of, the one that smelled like cedar and salt and the faintest trace of citrus. The scent wrapped around you - familiar and safe and entirely him.

Padding downstairs as quietly as possible, you each slipped into sneakers, the silence between you easy, comfortable. When you eased open the front door, a rush of warm, heavy night air met you like a slow exhale.

It was thick with moisture, the kind of south European high summer warmth that clung to your skin. Somewhere in the trees, cicadas droned steadily, their sound familiar and nostalgic.

Without needing to speak, the two of you naturally drifted toward the back of the house, your steps falling into quiet sync. The pull was toward the hill you’d wandered many times before – the gentle slope that led to that perfect spot at the very top, where the world seemed to open up.

You had stood there together more than once since you got here, watching sunsets bleed across the sky deep oranges and soft purples.

But at this hour, the sun was long gone. The sky above had slipped into a deep, velvety blue, scattered with stars - sharp, brilliant pinpricks of light.

But it was dark. Very dark. The kind of darkness hat swallowed depth and distance, making it hard to tell where your feet landed. As you moved along the path, the ground below became difficult to read, and a subtle shiver climbed your spine. You slowed your steps, eyes straining ahead.

“It’s so fucking dark,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked up at the star-smeared sky. The trees around the path were pitch black, casting long shadows that felt just a little too alive.

“You don’t like it?” Luigi asked gently, glancing your way.

You hesitated for a beat. “I’m afraid of the dark,” you admitted. “It’s… actually one of my biggest fears.”

“Really?” He slowed his steps and reached for your hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “I didn’t know that.”

You glanced over, and even in the dim light, you could see the way he was smiling – soft, not teasing at all.

“I can’t believe I get to learn new things about you all the time,” he said quietly. “I don’t know. It makes me kind of giddy.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as the two of you kept walking up the hill. His touch was steady, grounding.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured, his voice close to your temple. “I’ll protect you. I’ll always protect you.”

You smiled, leaning into him, your stride falling into easy rhythm beside his. You absolutely knew he would.

“I weirdly like hearing about what scares you,” he said after a pause, his tone playful but sincere. “Because you always seem so… fearless.”

He chuckled under his breath, light and genuine.

“Fearless?” you repeated with a smirk, arching an eyebrow as you glanced up at him.

He gave you a wide-eyed look, as though genuinely surprised. “Don’t you think so?” he said, brows raised. “I mean, it’s one of the first things I noticed about you. Just think about how you were with me when we first met - how open you were, right from the start.”

You looked up at him, curious. “What do you mean? You think I should’ve been scared of you?”

“This,” he said, chuckling as he shook his head. “This is exactly what I mean. There were a million reasons for you to hesitate. To hold back. I was literally on trial for a death-eligible crime, and there you were, offering me the kind of support most people wouldn’t even give a close friend. No questions. No second-guessing.”

You tilted your head at him, playful. “Have you considered I might just be a bit dumb?”

He laughed, his smile spreading fully now. “Yeah, well. I knew Karen before I knew you. And considering how fearless your mom is, maybe I shouldn’t have been too surprised her daughter turned out the same way.”

Just then, the path gave way to open sky.

You’d reached the top of the hill, and it was like the world unfolded in front of you. The lake stretched out dark blue and shimmering under the moonlight. Gentle waves moved across the surface, catching silver light and breaking it into a thousand soft ripples.

A warm breeze brushed against the bare skin of your legs, lifting the edge of the hoodie where it hung loose on you.

You came to a stop, the view pulling the breath straight from your lungs.

Without a word, Luigi drew you into him, wrapping his arms around you in a hug that was equal parts steady and soft. You leaned into him, your cheek against his chest, both of you still as you looked out over the sleeping landscape.

He bent his head and spoke just above your ear, his breath a gentle warmth against your hair.

“I love this scent you’re wearing,” he murmured.

“My hair?” you asked, smiling a little. “It’s probably the OUAI hair mist. I usually spray it on after I shower.”

He hummed in recognition. “You always smell like this when you come to bed. When you slide under the covers and curl up next to me. It’s the best part of my day.”

The sincerity in his voice made something flutter deep in your chest.

“It also reminds me of Hawaii,” he added, his tone distant for a moment. “That soft coconut smell.”

“Would you ever want to live in Hawaii again?” you asked quietly, curious.

He took a moment to answer.

“Nah… I had some amazing experiences living there. But I also struggled. It’s not all good memories.”

You nodded gently, feeling the subtle shift in his tone - the kind that hinted at chapters left unopened, stories only half-told. You didn’t press. His honesty, even in fragments, was enough.

Suddenly, the dark of the night around you made you brave.

“I know we haven’t really talked about this before,” you began, your voice tentative but steady, “but… if you could picture us ten years from now - where do you think we’d be living?”

The question hung in the cool air between you, fragile and full of weight. He looked over at you, thoughtful.

“Well, since I’m a citizen here, I could go anywhere in the EU. Having a place here isn’t off the table for me.”

You felt your heart give a subtle thud, like it had skipped and then landed again.

“Me neither,” you said softly.

Just saying it out loud - talking about a future together, dreaming out loud - made your stomach flip. It was scary. And kind of wonderful.

“I think Europe makes a lot of sense for raising kids,” he said. “In many ways, it’s more family centered. You get proper time off when you have children. Life moves at a slightly more human pace.”

Your knees nearly gave out beneath you.

A family. With Luigi.

The thought crashed over you like a wave - unexpected, powerful, and impossibly tender.

“Sorry,” he said, letting out a short, uncertain laugh. “Was that… too much?”

You shook your head instantly, heart pounding. “No. Not at all.”

A small, nervous giggle escaped your lips - reflexive, breathless.

He reached for your face, cradling it gently in both hands, tilting it up toward his.

“You know what,” he said, voice soft and sincere, “I never even knew love had a sound until I heard you laugh.”

Your breath caught. Blood rushed to your stomach, warmth blooming through your chest. You felt almost dizzy. This moment, this man, under a sky full of stars, in the thick warmth of the Italian night - it was almost too much. You looked at him, heart aching.

How was this even real?

As if reading your thoughts, he smiled quietly.

“This is such an unreal moment to me,” he admitted. “The contrast of it. Where I’ve spent the last year and a half… and now this.” He let out a breathless laugh. “Being here with you? I couldn’t have imagined anything like this, even in my wildest dreams.”

He leaned in and kissed you - slowly, with a tenderness that made your spine melt. It wasn’t rushed. It was careful, like he wanted to memorize you.

When he pulled back, he didn’t let go. His hands still held your face, warm and steady, grounding you in his touch.

“Being with you,” he said, his voice steady but hushed, “It’s finally like I’m being seen and loved without having to perform all the time. Like someone is listening even when I’m not screaming.” He paused, blinking slowly, searching for the words.

“I finally feel understood without having to explain myself. I’m enough without constantly proving it,” he whispered. “I have someone who miss me… without having to disappear.”

Your heart dropped.

Here he was - this beautiful, unguarded soul. This man who had moved through the world with quiet strength and so much bruised tenderness. You would do anything to protect him from another day of pain. Another second of pain.

“That’s all I want,” you murmured, your voice soft, barely more than a breath against the hush between you. “I want to be your place of peace. If you ever feel lost, if the world starts to tilt and you feel like you are losing your mind - I want the first thing out of your mouth to be, ‘I need my girl.’”

He smiled, slow and a little shy. Then his warm hand moved beneath your oversized hoodie, slipping under the fabric. His fingers found your skin, and he began to trace slow, reverent lines along the small of your back - each stroke had quiet sparks blooming beneath your skin, soft and electric.

“It’s just…” He gave a small shrug, trying to ease the weight of the moment. “It’s a new feeling for me, I guess. Just knowing you are here to stay, even though I really have no real evidence for thinking so. Just believing you will anyway.”

He kissed you again, a little longer this time, then rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the stillness.

“What if I’d known,” he murmured, “a year ago - during the worst of it - that one day I’d stop and suddenly think, Oh. This is why.”

He smiled faintly. “This is why it was all worth it. Now I get it.”

“Do you feel that way?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

He paused, just for a moment, like the words needed permission to leave his mouth. When he spoke again, it was barely more than a whisper.

“You’re my best friend.”

You looked up at him, heart tightening. Your eyes stung suddenly, a rush of emotion rising too fast to stop. You had to take a deep breath just to steady your voice.

“And you are mine,” you said, the words shaking slightly as they left you.

A soft smile curved across his face - gentle, full of something deep and unspoken. His eyes shimmered, not with tears, but with something quieter. Something like relief. Like finally being understood.

He drew you in tighter, wrapping his arms around you with a kind of aching protectiveness, as if holding you closer might anchor something in him that he had been missing for so long. His heat became yours, and yours his - blending together as though your hearts had found the rhythm they’d always been searching for. Right there, beneath the dark sky with millions of stars scattered above.

“I think,” he said slowly, “forever would be really nice with you.”

Chapter Text

The next morning you woke up alone in your room.

Your hand reached instinctively for the other side of the bed, but it met only cool, undisturbed sheets. The space where Luigi usually lay - where you’d grown used to the steady comfort of his breathing, the warmth of his body wrapped around yours - was empty. And just the sight of it, the absence of him, felt like a fist closing slowly around your chest.

He had woken you before he left for the airport, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to your lips in the dark, whispering soft goodbyes against your skin. You’d held him tight, not wanting to let go, counting every last second before he finally slipped away into the quiet morning to catch his flight. You must have drifted off again after that, but the sleep had been shallow, restless.

Now, the sun poured in through the cracks in your curtains, casting golden streaks across the floor. It was a beautiful day - too beautiful, almost. The brightness felt cruel in contrast to the heaviness settling in your chest.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed and padded to the glass doors that led out onto the balcony. Pulling the curtains aside, you unlatched the doors and stepped out into the crisp morning air. The scent of the sea drifted in, fresh and familiar, and you inhaled deeply, letting it fill your lungs.

You stood there for a moment, unmoving, your gaze sweeping across the quiet view. Then, with a sigh, you turned back, leaving the doors open behind you as you climbed under the covers again – not ready to meet the day just yet.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand. It was just after 8 a.m.

They’d been in the air for about two hours by now - your dad and Luigi. Which meant there were six long hours left to fill, six hours to distract yourself, before you could hope to hear his voice again.

Without really meaning to, your fingers moved almost of their own accord, instinctively tracing across your phone screen. A few swipes, a few taps - and suddenly, Spotify was open. And somehow, that playlist caught your eye again.  LNM.

You hesitated for the briefest moment, but against your better judgment, your thumb pressed play.

The first notes drifted into the room, and it was Oasis Stop Crying Your Heart Out - instantly, you regretted your decision.

What the hell was wrong with you? Was this some kind of self-inflicted emotional torture? Still, you didn’t turn it off.

The familiar melody filled the quiet space around you, and with it came a wave of something sharp and aching. Nostalgia, yes - but also something heavier than that. A kind of sadness that settled into your chest like fog and refused to lift. You didn’t need more melancholy. You had enough of that already – this was just dumb. Really dumb.

May your smile
Shine on
Don't be scared
Your destiny may keep you warm

'Cause all of the stars are fading away
Just try not to worry, you'll see them someday
Take what you need, and be on your way
And stop crying your heart out

Get up
Come on
Why're you scared?
You'll never change what's been and gone

The song immediately transported you back in time - back in time to when you would sit in your apartment alone, after a long day working on Luigis case with the rest of the team.

Back then, you would just sit there, exhausted, and cue up this playlist just to feel close to him - just to remind yourself that he was still real, trying to get a small glimpse into his mind.

This song in particular had always wrecked you. Broken you into a million pieces. And it still did.

There was something unbearable about it. The lyrics, his choice to include it on the note to you, the way the words seemed to echo everything you couldn’t say out loud.

But you didn’t turn it off – not then, not now. You just lay there in your bed, breathing in the sadness. Letting it hurt.

The tears started slowly, almost without you noticing - just a gentle warmth sliding down your cheeks. You didn’t bother wiping them away. Instead, you lay still, breathing deeply, letting the sadness settle in quietly.

After a while, you realized you couldn’t stay like that. Enough was enough. You couldn’t fall apart every time he was out of reach. Luigi had only been gone for a few hours, and already it felt like too much. If you didn’t pull yourself together, these three days without him were going to feel like forever.

You got up, washed your face in the bathroom, and headed for your dresser. You pulled on your most comfortable pair of loose-fitting, faded blue jeans and then you slipped into a soft, cotton rib Skims tank top - the muted blue one that made your tan pop. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

When you finally made it downstairs, the house was quiet. The kitchen and living room stood still and empty, bathed in soft morning light. You walked through the room slowly, until the glass doors revealed Celine outside by the pool, sitting in the sun at the patio table.

She looked completely absorbed by her phone, thumb scrolling idly across the screen, a half-eaten prosciutto-stuffed ciabatta sitting on a plate beside her, alongside an oversized mug of coffee. She didn’t notice your presence until you stepped up right behind her.

She jolted, letting out a small gasp. “Jesus, Liv! Don’t sneak up on me like that - I thought you were still asleep.”

With a dramatic sigh, you pulled out the chair beside her and sank into it, folding your arms on the table.

“I was trying to sleep in,” you said. “But my mind wouldn’t shut up. I ended up listening to some songs that reminded me of Luigi. Then I got sad. Then I cried. And... well, it was all downhill from there...”

Celine laughed, rolling her eyes. “He’s been gone for like... forty-five minutes, maybe?”

“I know I’m being dramatic,” you admitted, tucking your legs beneath you on the chair. “But I can’t help it. I’m serious - it physically hurts being away from him.”

Celine set her phone down and straightened in her seat. Her voice softened.

“I get it. I really do. And it’s not just any trip he’s away for, either. Honestly, I’ve got some anxiety about it too.” Celine paused for a moment.

“That brave face he always puts on - joking, making sure everyone else is okay. But sometimes you can just see it… that he’s carrying so much, even when he’s smiling. It breaks my heart, knowing he doesn’t let himself fall apart in front of anyone.”

Your throat tightened, the tears threatening again hearing her talk about him like this.

“You know,” she went on, her voice softening as her expression turned more reflective, “you’re my sister, so of course I’ll always put you first. But honestly… that’s why I’m so happy he has you. It means a lot to know he finally has someone he can lean on - someone he can trust enough to be vulnerable with.” She paused, choosing her words.

“I know you understand him better than I ever could. But I just feel that it might have been a very long time since he’s had that in someone. If he’s ever had it at all.”

You looked down, blinking quickly as you tried to steady yourself, the sudden tightness in your throat making it hard to breathe. You swallowed, pushing the emotion back down.

Just then, your mom appeared in the doorway, wrapped in one of her off duty signature flowy printed kaftans, her hair pinned up in a claw clip. She looked effortlessly beautiful, as always.

“Hi, sweethearts,” she said with a warm smile, her voice soft. “Mind if I join you?”

You offered her a smile and reached to pull out the chair beside you as a quiet invitation. She settled down placing her steaming coffee mug on the table, her eyes scanning your faces, perceptive as ever.

“Are you talking about Luigi?” she asked softly, her voice dipping slightly as she picked up on the emotions hanging between you.

“We are,” Celine replied, a sigh escaping her. “And honestly, I’m really worried Liv won’t make it through these three days without him. She’s a fucking wreck and it’s not even lunchtime day one yet.”

Your mom leaned over the chair and pulled you into a hug, arms wrapping around you with that quiet, familiar steadiness that you loved so much.

“Sweetie,” she murmured, “I understand - truly, I do. We all miss him. But they land in just two hours. I’m sure he’ll call as soon as he can, and the moment you hear his voice, you’ll feel so much better.”

You managed a small, grateful smile.

Celine glanced over at you, her smile warm and knowing. “When you walked out here, I was just telling Liv how happy I am that Luigi has her in his life. She is dramatic, yes – but she is also so fucking perfect for him.”

She turned to you fully, her eyes shining with sincerity. “You two are perfect for each other,” she said, her voice full of conviction. “There’s this energy between you - it’s truly palpable. And I’m not just talking about the sexual tension you could slice through with a knife.” She shot your mom an apologetic glance and shrugged. “Sorry, mom.”

Your mom let out a groan but smiled all the same, shaking her head fondly.

“I mean the deep stuff,” Celine continued, her tone softening. “Soul-level connection. The way you move in sync, like you just get each other. There’s trust. Safety. It’s honestly incredible to witness up close. You are just so sweet with each other.”

Your mother nodded slowly, her gaze distant. “I couldn’t agree more,” she said, her voice almost reverent. “It’s a miracle, really. I feel like the universe conspired to bring the two of you together at just the right time. Liv, you came into his life exactly when he needed you the most. There’s no other way I can explain it.”

She fell quiet for a moment. A silence settled across the table  as emotions flickered across her face. Her eyes glimmered with something soft.

When she spoke again, her tone had changed, grown more careful. Thoughtful.

“Of course,” she began, “I can’t speak for him. He’s his own person with his own reasons for everything. But I’ve spent a fair amount of time with him - long conversations about his life, his past, the things he carries. And I think I’ve come to understand some of the things he struggles with.”

You watched her closely, holding your breath slightly.

“People like him,” she said, choosing her words with care, “people with very high intelligence - they often struggle with things that many others never have to face. There’s this paradox - the more capable the mind, the more acutely aware it becomes of the futility in certain societal pursuits. Career, relationships, life milestones… it can all start to seem meaningless when you see through the surface of it.” Your mom paused for a moment.

“It’s almost like… the higher the IQ, the more difficult it can be to establish what, if anything, there actually is to accomplish in life.”

Celine nodded, her expression serious. Your mother took a breath and continued.

“There’s a tendency among very bright individuals - and our sweet Luigi absolutely falls into that category,” she said with a small, fond smile, “to question the value of conventional goals. Not because they’re rebellious or disillusioned by default, but because to them, these goals often appear hollow. Arbitrary.”

She ran her fingers absently over the rim of her coffee mug, eyes lost in thought.

“People like him care deeply - sometimes unbearably so - but their motivation often stems not from ambition or convention, but from a desire to protect others from pain. Especially when that pain might come from disappointing someone they love. Parents, partners… it creates a kind of pressure that’s invisible to the rest of the world.”

A small chuckle escaped her, though it was tinged with sadness.

“He’s probably always sensed the illusion in what some call the ‘normie trappings of life.' The idea that if you just tick the boxes, happiness will follow. That illusion doesn’t work on people like him. And that kind of clarity, or cynicism depending on how you see it, it can start to look a lot like nihilism - a general feeling of things being rather meaningless.”

She looked up at you then, her gaze piercing. “And when you’re walking around with that kind of perspective, and you don’t have anyone who really gets it - who can meet you in those thoughts, in those feelings - it gets lonely. It’s a different kind of loneliness. Existential.”

Her hand reached for yours, warm and grounding, and she gave it a gentle squeeze.

“But now,” she said, her voice softening. “Now he has you.”

She looked between you and Celine, her eyes suddenly bright.

“Liv, I don’t think you truly understand the depth of it yet. But I’ve known him for a while now, and what you two have found in each other - it’s not just rare. For him, it’s entirely new.”

"Mom, you're going to make me cry again," you said, tilting your head back as if gravity might catch the tears welling at the corners of your eyes. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep them at bay, feeling the swell of emotion press insistently against your chest.

“I feel the same way about him, honestly,” you added after a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Your hands fluttered in the air as you tried to shake off the intensity of the moment.

“I’ve never had a connection like this with anyone before - not with any of my exes. This... this is something completely different. It’s like being wrapped in safety. He can be really fucking weird sometimes, let’s be honest – but the thing is, that allows me to be just as weird right back. There’s no judgment. No need to hide who we are. Just... space to exist.”

Celine leaned in slightly, a smile creeping across her face. “So... have you talked about it?” she asked. “You know - the future?” Her tone was playful, but there was a glimmer of curiosity behind her eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, pretending that you had no ideas what she was talking about. “Talked about what?”

She grinned. “Shut up. Don’t act like it hasn’t crossed your mind. All those things I know are spinning in your head every time you look at him. I just know you’ve been daydreaming about having his curly-haired Italian babies.”

You let out a short, breathy laugh as your cheeks flushed warm. Your mom gave Celine a mock-stern look, lips twitching in amusement. “Celine,” she said, voice laced with restraint, “don’t put Liv on the spot like that.”

Celine shrugged innocently, grinning. “You want to know too, mom. I’m just the one shameless enough to ask out loud.”

You couldn’t help but smile, though your heart was pounding. Heat rose up your neck as the memory of last night drifted through your mind - Luigi’s voice low and tender as he spoke about a future together. About raising children, building a family.

“I remember when I first started dating Ben,” Celine said suddenly, her tone shifting. “I was gushing to one of my friends about how perfect he was. I told her we were going to spend the rest of our lives together, and she just looked at me and asked one simple question - one I’ve never forgotten.”

She paused, and when her eyes met yours, they held something warm.

“She asked, could you picture him brushing your daughter’s hair?”

Your breath hitched, just a little, as the question settled over you. And then - suddenly, vividly - the image appeared in your mind, so clear it almost felt real.

Luigi, crouched down on the floor, his hands gentle and careful, easing a brush through a tangle of dark curls. One hand steadying the small head in front of him, the other moving with quiet patience. His dark brows furrowed in soft concentration, completely focused, completely present.

Your stomach fluttered, and when you spoke, your voice was quiet.

“I could,” you said. A small smile curved your lips. “I really, really could.”

As if summoned by the moment's quiet gravity, the sound of flip-flops slapping against the stone patio announced Ben’s arrival. He appeared from inside the house, dragging his feet behind him. He stretched dramatically, flopping into a sun lounger right next to you.

“Ahh,” he sighed, folding his hands behind his head. “The feeling of being the alpha of the house again.”

Celine scoffed instantly, not even looking at him. “Please. You’re not even the alpha when it’s just the two of us.”

You let out a laugh, grateful for the shift in tone. It felt good to exhale for a bit.

Ben, naturally, was undeterred. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, lounging lazily, “I probably love Luigi more than you do, Liv.” He glanced at you with mock-seriousness. “But sometimes, I do miss the good old days when I was the hottest man in the family.”

Celine rolled her eyes so hard it looked like it hurt. You giggled again, shaking your head.

“You’ll always be the hottest man named Ben in the family,” you said, deadpan.

Ben pointed at you like you’d handed him a trophy. “Thank you Liv, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

…

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activities as you tried your best to keep busy and to keep your mind occupied - anything to stop it from wandering too far down the path of missing Luigi like a crazy person.

After breakfast, you and your mom decided to go downtown for the farmers market, weaving between stalls bursting with color - crates of sun-warmed tomatoes, ripe peaches and deep green herbs bundled in twine. You were happy to spend some quality time alone with your mom, and also grateful for the distraction. A few hours away from the house was a good way to make the time pass faster.

But as soon as you got home, you could instantly feel Luigi’s absence start tugging at you again - quietly but persistently.

Ben, who always had a way of noticing shifts in the mood around him, picked up on it right away. Without saying much, he gave you a soft hug and asked if you wanted to play a few rounds of Yatzy. He even made you one of his signature Aperol Spritzes, with just the right mix of soda water and prosecco, and a slice of blood orange on the rim.

You both settled outside in the shade beneath a big umbrella. The breeze was light, the sound of cicadas hummed in the background, and the drink was cold and perfect. It didn’t fix everything - but it helped. Just enough to take the edge off. Just enough to make it through the afternoon.

Then your phone finally buzzed. It was inside, lying on the kitchen counter.

You didn’t walk - you launched. Bolting upright from the patio chair, you nearly tripped as you made your way through the open doors and into the cool air of the kitchen. Just seeing Luigis name light up on the screen made your chest tighten and your heart race.

You answered the FaceTime call with trembling fingers, holding your breath as the screen flickered to life.

And then - there he was.

His face. His beautiful, beautiful face.

Just the sight of him sent a jolt through you. And when his eyes found yours, when recognition dawned and his whole face lit up in that way only he could - sudden and bright - it was like the air had been knocked from your lungs. His smile filled the screen, and for a moment, it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Hi, baby,” he said, his voice warm and low.

Your knees nearly gave way. You sank onto a kitchen stool like your bones had turned to water.

“Hi, baby,” you whimpered back, your lips forming a pout before you could stop them. “I miss you so, so much. How was the flight?”

He grinned wider, if that was even possible.

“I miss you too. It’s actually insane - I can’t believe it’s only been a few hours. I already have full-blown Liv withdrawal.”

You giggled, the sound catching on a lump in your throat. You swallowed hard.

“The flight was fine,” he continued, his image wobbling slightly as he moved around. “Long, but not bad. Thank God I brought some books. Your dad passed out after like thirty minutes and didn’t wake up until we were practically landing.”

You heard your dad chuckle in the background and saw Luigi glance off-screen, smiling. For a moment, all you could see was a close-up of his mouth - soft, curved, familiar.

He seemed to be fiddling with something.

“How are you feeling, baby?” he asked, voice muffled. “Your day been okay?”

The screen blurred again as he adjusted his grip. All you could see now was a vague shot of his chest, the fabric of his shirt shifting as he moved.

“Luigi, baby - your camera work is an actual disaster,” you laughed, eyes narrowing fondly. “What are you even doing?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckled. “I’m grabbing some clothes from my bag - I really need to shower. But I’m sitting down now, I swear.”

The image finally steadied as he dropped into a chair. There he was again - his face, clear and beautiful. Angelic. You couldn’t stop smiling.

“There you are,” you said, voice soft.

He smiled back, then suddenly squinted.

“What’s that in the background?” he asked. “Those flowers are absolutely gorgeous.”

You turned slightly, angling your phone to show the floral arrangement on the table behind you. It was an explosion of color and texture - pink peonies, sky-blue delphiniums, lisianthus like soft crepe paper, bright green viburnum, and sprays of eucalyptus that released a fresh, earthy scent whenever the breeze moved through the room.

“Oh, I was just about to show you,” you said, delighted. “Dickey sent them.”

“Dickey?” Luigi’s brow furrowed in surprise.

You laughed. “Yeah - he heard about you and me, and he was so excited. He added the sweetest little card, too. I’ve got it in my room. I’ll show you later. He really is a softie, under all that attitude.”

Luigi let out a full-bodied laugh. “That’s hilarious - I love him.”

“He really is the sweetest,” you said, giggling as your fingers gently brushed one of the soft peony petals.

Luigi hesitated for a moment before speaking again, his tone a bit more cautious. “He’s not the only one who’s reached out since... well, since you and I went involuntarily public.”

“Oh?” you asked, curiosity piqued. “Who else?”

“My sisters,” he said, almost sheepishly. “They’ve been in touch since they saw the news. They’re... pretty excited about it. They want to meet you.”

Your heart gave a sudden, unexpected jolt. You’d met his parents once before - briefly, and in a professional context - but never his sisters. The thought of meeting them stirred a swirl of nerves and anticipation.

“I’d love that,” you said, offering a warm smile.

“Great,” he replied, matching your smile, though you caught a flicker of tension in his eyes. There was something uncertain lingering just beneath the surface.

“I’ll make sure we set something up when we’re both back from Italy.”

“Sounds great,” you said, and you meant it - though your pulse was still racing.

“Baby, I hate to do this, I really do,” Luigi said suddenly, his voice warm but edged with urgency. “But I need to go - we’re on a bit of a tight schedule here. Marc and I have our first meeting in forty-five minutes, and we still need to go over some things. I just had to call you… I couldn’t stand another minute without seeing your face or hearing your voice.”

You nodded, your expression softening. “I get it, baby. Don’t worry about me. Just promise me something, okay?” You paused, searching his eyes on the screen.

“If anything gets heavy while you’re in New York - mentally, emotionally… Please, please, don’t pretend everything’s okay? You don’t have to carry it alone. Just call or text me whenever, okay?”

“I will,” he said gently. “You’re on my mind all the time. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, though your heart ached. “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you,” he echoed, and then the screen faded to black as the call ended.

Luigi exhaled, letting the silence settle around him. He placed his phone on the edge of the dark wood desk in the corner of the bedroom that would be his for the coming three nights - one of the two rooms in the Beekman Place apartment the firm kept for high-pressure weeks like this one, when commuting back to Karen and Marc's Larchmont home was impractical.

The place had a quiet luxury to it - polished floors, framed art on the walls, and soft light filtering through tall windows framed by crème colored linen curtains. It didn’t feel like a sterile corporate rental. It felt like a real home. Comforting and warm.

He walked up to the linen cabinet, grabbed a neatly folded towel, and stepped out into the main room. Marc was perched on the edge of the sofa, eyes locked on his phone, fingers tapping out something seemingly urgent.

He glanced up when he heard footsteps. “You good?”

Luigi nodded. “Yeah. Just heading for a quick shower. But I gotta say - this apartment? It’s really nice. Way homier than I expected. When you said ‘the firm’s apartment,’ I was picturing something totally different. Something slightly more depressing.”

Marc smiled, not looking up from his screen. “Did you know Liv decorated this place?”

Luigi blinked, surprised. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Marc said, his voice softening with pride. “All of it. She picked the furniture, the color palette, the rugs, the throws. Every detail. I swear, sometimes I forget just how multi-talented that girl is.”

Luigi felt something shift in his chest - a strange, warm weight that settled somewhere behind his ribs. Pride, he realized. Not the kind born of an achievement of your own, but the kind that came from loving someone really exceptional and knowing they had, in turn, chosen you.

He couldn’t claim credit for any of your talents, your taste, your brilliance… but still, you were his. That fact alone made him feel like he was walking just a little taller.

He turned, towel in hand, and wandered toward the bathroom, the sound of traffic humming faintly through the thick windows.

There was something about being back in New York that pulled him backward. Memory came at him like a collage of noise and color and feeling. New York still represented something unhealed - heavy, traumatic, painful. But it had also been the start of something that changed everything.

It was when he met you.

And sometimes - strangely, almost irrationally - he found himself wishing he could go back. Not to relive the pain, not to endure everything all over again, but just to meet you for the first time once more. To feel that overwhelming, impossible sweetness of falling for you.

That first look.
That first laugh.
That first time he knew.

It had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

Chapter Text

(This chapter is Luigi’s POV, and we are back at the MDC in February of 2025)

The morning began just as every other morning, since that day in December when you had arrived at the Metropolitan Detention Center in Brooklyn - now four months ago. The routine was unchanging and mechanical, and you had started to follow it almost on autopilot.

But today was slightly different.

This morning you were already awake, lying still on the thin mattress, long before the correctional officers made their rounds. You heard the quiet murmur of the prison waking up, before the call out that breakfast would be served in thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes until breakfast, and then, at 9:30 a.m., you were scheduled for a visit from Karen and Jacob.

You had seen them just two days ago, but the memory was uncomfortable. It had been at the New York City courthouse, during your first official court appearance since December, and it had been worse than anticipated - and it wasn’t like you had expected a pleasant experience to begin with.

The thing is that for you, court appearances were draining for multiple reasons. There was of course the logistical weight of it all - the preparation of statements and legal arguments, the long discussions with Karen and the team, every detail needing to be prepared in anticipation of the prosecution’s next move.

But beyond this, due to the attention your case had received, there was also the psychological toll - the burden of being in the spotlight, knowing very well that every movement, every glance, every outfit choice - would be dissected online and by media.

You couldn’t access the internet yourself, of course - but that didn’t mean you were immune to the consequences of what was written about you. You were very aware of the amount of work Karen and the rest of your team constantly put into control the narrative of the public’s reactions, and trying to prevent the tide to turn against you. It was a balance act that was almost impossible to navigate.

At the last court appearance in December, there had been a small mercy built in as you had time set aside before the hearing for you to meet with your team - to gather yourself, to mentally prepare.

That moment had served as a buffer - a place to steady your nerves before facing the courthouse chaos of flashing cameras and chanting supporters – but also ultimately the prosecutors and the judge.

But this time, nothing had gone according to plan.

From the moment you arrived everything had felt rushed. Officers hurried you through the intake process, informing you abruptly that the pre-hearing meeting with your team had been cut short without explanation.

You were given a bag with the civilian clothing that you were allowed to change into - but then suddenly you were ordered to also add a bulletproof vest. You were told it was for "safety reasons," but no one explained it any further. Alone - without Karen, Jacob or Marc by your side - you didn’t feel it was safe enough to question it.

Before entering the courtroom, you were allowed to meet with Karen just for a brief moment. She was visibly upset, her words clipped, her eyes flashing with frustration as she spoke to you under the watchful gaze of the surrounding officers.

That brief encounter did nothing but add more stress to the situation. Before you knew it, it was time to enter the courtroom with its whirlwind of noise, eyes and tension. Everyone was looking at you while you were fighting to maintain your composure, feeling confused and scared.

Jacob sat beside you, a calming presence amidst the chaos. His easy demeanor, the quiet way he tried to offer reassurance, did help – at least a little. You leaned toward him for some piece of familiarity to ground you as the proceedings unfolded.

But Karen’s anger took its toll on you. You understood it, but it still stressed you out. Her energy had always been something you mirrored instinctively. When she felt confident, it gave you strength. When she was agitated, your own anxiety spiked in response.

Once the hearing was over, you were rushed once again. There was barely even time for a debrief - just a few quick words exchanged with the team before you were whisked away, changed back into your prison uniform, and transported in silence back to the MDC.

The two days since had been heavy. You couldn’t stop the way you mind kept replaying everything that had gone down, over and over. Why had everything been so different this time? Why the rush?

So when you were informed that Karen and Jacob had secured approval for a follow-up visit, you felt relief. Finally, you would have the chance to speak with them properly. To understand. To hopefully find reassurance in their presence.

Karen had recently mentioned over phone that her and Marc’s daughter would be joining the legal team working on your case. As a young paralegal, just beginning her career at their firm, she would be assisting the team starting this month.

She had, in fact, already been present at the courthouse two days ago. The plan was for you to be introduced to her then, but the way that day had turned out had made it impossible.

The overwhelming experience had left no room for formalities or new faces, so you hadn’t even seen her yet or said hello. Karen and Jacob had decided that the proper introduction would take place during today’s visit at the MDC instead, where things, hopefully, would be calmer and more controlled.

After breakfast, you had a few moments alone again before Karen and Jacob were expected to arrive, and you were now back in your cell counting down the seconds to their arrival.

The visits and calls from your team had become nothing less of a lifeline to you in here. You clung to them, not just for the legal and strategic discussions, but for the emotional support they provided.

Talking to your legal team broke up the monotony, yes, but they did something more than that - they reminded you that the world beyond these walls hadn’t forgotten you. That people still cared about you.

It was actually weird, and quite unexpected, how much fun you could have with your team. That laughter could exist even inside a grey federal detention center.

Somehow, even under the weight of all the serious conversations and the gravity of what you were facing, there was somehow always space for a joke or a shared moment of absurdity that helped keep you grounded in some kind of normality.

Of course, your meetings were always efficient in the way that they were packed with information, legal updates and strategy discussions - but Karen, Jacob and Marc never failed to leave a little room for casual conversation.

That balance had become essential and helped build more than a professional relationship between you. With each visit, your connection to them built on trust and empathy only deepened.

From your very first meeting, back in early December when Karen and Marc had traveled all the way to Pennsylvania to see you before your transfer to New York, there had immediately been a quiet understanding. A connection between you that felt strangely natural, familiar.

You remembered that day vividly. You were at a state of mind were you almost felt like a wounded animal, cowering in a corner, wary of every gesture, every word.

But then suddenly Karen and Marc had arrived, bringing warmth. Not the performative kind, but something real, something quietly steady. They didn’t push, didn’t demand anything from you. They just showed up, listened to you with compassion, and assured you that they would help carry what you could no longer bear alone.

In that moment, something opened inside you. Just a small crack to begin with - but enough for light to slip through.

That feeling had never quite left you. It returned every time you saw them, every time they walked into the sterile visiting room and offered you not just legal counsel, but a reminder that you were still human. Treating you almost like… family.

Today – meeting them again - made you excited. Not just for any updates they would share, but also for the sheer warmth of their presence. You were also curious to see the kind of energy the new paralegal would bring to the team, that you would finally get the chance to meet today.

Soon you were escorted through the familiar corridors toward the meeting area, flanked by the quiet presence of the officers.

You wore the beige two-piece set that gradually had come to grow on you the last few months. It was simple and institutional – but paired with the soft white long-sleeve shirt beneath, the sleeves casually pushed up to your forearms, it was actually quite comfortable. And most importantly – it wasn’t an orange jumpsuit.

You stepped into the visitation room and took your seat, letting your eyes wander over the worn furniture - the scratched tabletops, the plastic chairs that rocked unevenly on the concrete floor. The open door facing the hallway outside let in shafts of pale daylight.

You sat there for a moment, absorbing the quiet. Waiting.

Then, from beyond the hallway, you heard muffled, familiar voices. They were here.

A flicker of warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading quickly. Excitement, relief.

It had only been two days, but it felt longer, as though some part of you had been holding its breath since the moment you were rushed out of that courtroom. Just knowing that Karen and Jacob were close sent a wave of calm through you.

You straightened slightly in your seat, unable to keep the faintest trace of a smile from forming.

You saw Karen first, stride confident as always, and with the biggest smile across her face as soon as she saw you. She nearly broke into a run for the last few steps, and you rose instinctively to meet her. When she reached you, she folded you into a tight hug.

The moment her arms wrapped around you, a wave of calm washed over your entire body. Tension melted from your shoulders. Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back with sheer will. You inhaled deeply, grounding yourself.

She held you until she felt you begin to shift, and only then did she pull away, gently placing her hands on your shoulders. Her gaze searched your face, studying it carefully, as if looking for clues on your current state of mind.

You gave her a smile. “I’m okay, Karen. I promise.”

She let out a soft laugh and released you. “ You know me too well.”

A moment later, Jacob entered the room. He gave you a firm handshake and a warm, half-hug, then moved past you, setting his bag on the table. Without a word, he began unpacking - his laptop, a scatter of papers, already focused, already in motion.

And then, behind him – you saw her.

She was preoccupied, rifling through her bag with both hands buried deep inside the leather tote slung over her shoulder. Her dark, wavy hair shifted around her face as she moved, cascading softly over her shoulders. She wore a black coat, unbuttoned to reveal a crisp white shirt tucked neatly into a pair of fitted jeans. Black heels clicked softly against the floor.

She hadn’t looked up yet.

But then she did.

And your world stopped.

Her eyes met yours, immediately and unflinchingly. They were warm, curious - open in a way that felt like the first breath after holding it too long. She froze mid-step, surprise flickering across her face before a small, radiant smile took hold.

That smile. That smile.

It spun your thoughts into chaos. It was filled with something indescribably familiar, as though your heart had known her long before your eyes ever did. Recognition thundered through you - not of her name or her face, but of something deeper, something that didn’t need language.

Your heart recognized her immediately – there was no other way to describe it.

Your pulse surged. Blood roared in your ears.

She had her mom’s dark features - the gleaming chestnut hair, the deep, expressive eyes framed by long lashes. But where her mother’s features were elegant and sharp, hers were softened by her father’s gentler lines. Round cheeks tinged with color, a small nose turned pink by the cold, and a full, pink mouth that looked as if it had been made for soft words and sudden laughter.

She was the prettiest thing you had ever seen in your life.

“Good call on the socks,” she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the haze like a thread pulling you back to the present. “People are loving it.”

You jolted, blinking as if waking from a dream. She had already crossed the room and was now sitting beside her mother at the table across from you, a quiet smile on her lips.

“Yeah, Liv just started monitoring your social media visibility for us,” Karen added, barely looking up as she sorted through a thick stack of documents pulled from her bag. “She’ll keep you updated if there’s anything relevant you need to know. Otherwise, we’ll handle it.”

Karen glanced up then, locking eyes with you. Her expression was calm, but there was something firmer beneath the surface.

“Every time you make an appearance, it triggers a storm of renewed interest in the case - in you.” Karen’s tone was even, but the weight behind her words was unmistakable. “This time was no exception. It’s been... a lot.”

“A lot in a good way, though,” Liv interjected, and your gaze drifted toward her despite yourself. “So far, so good, I’d say.”

She turned to Karen. “I know we wanted the hearing recorded to make sure our message wasn’t distorted or taken out of context, but I think the fact that it turned into a photo shoot for you instead, Luigi -” she paused, smiling at you, and something in your chest twisted the moment she said your name - “well, I think that worked in our favor.”

You raised your eyebrows, unsure whether to be flattered or mortified. She smiled wider.

“That Getty guy? His rent was due, I’ll tell you. Good God, the pictures he took…” She let out a low whistle, and your pulse thudded in your ears at the thought of what she might be implying. “And your sockless feet? The internet wasn’t ready for that. Didn’t know so many people were into... that sort of thing.”

You flinched, caught completely off guard. What? A startled laugh escaped your throat before you could stop it.

Karen shot her daughter a subtle glance. A quiet warning. Just enough.

Liv backed off, at least outwardly, but not before you caught the trace of amusement curving her lips. She dropped her gaze back to the table, leaving her mom to resume the conversation, but the air between you still buzzed faintly, like static.

And you were still sitting there, trying to remember how to breathe.

Your mind was nowhere near the meeting anymore. It was entirely somewhere else, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions crashing into one another, loud and senseless. You struggled to focus, but everything around you felt distant and muffled - except for her. She was the only thing still in sharp focus.

What the hell was happening?

It wasn’t rational. It couldn’t be. You knew that. Surely this was just your brain grasping for something to anchor itself to, something warm, something human.

But still – it wasn’t like she was the first woman you’d seen since you came in. There had been others. Faces. Voices. Smiles. None of them had registered. None had made your chest ache just by saying your name.

You weren’t naive. You were aware of the attention you gathered since the arrest, since becoming a public figure in a sense.

But you knew it wasn’t really you most people were drawn to - it was the story. The symbol. The constructed image the world had built around you. You’d lived twenty-six years without women swooning at your feet like this - you knew better than to flatter yourself now. The allure wasn’t all personal, a large part of the attraction was purely projection.

But still - you noticed. You noticed the shift.

It wasn’t just the flood of letters from strangers or the women showing up at your hearings. It was even closer than that. The lingering glances. The way certain interactions shifted subtly. How female officers who’d once been assigned to you were suddenly transferred, quietly replaced by men - as if someone somewhere had decided it was too risky to leave you within their orbit.

You saw it. You weren’t blind.

And yet, until now, the idea of wanting - of longing - hadn’t even occurred to you.

Then, out of nowhere, she walked in and turned your world inside out with a single look.

Karen’s voice cut through the noise in your head, snapping you back into the room.

“We don’t have much time, so we need to use it wisely. But before we start - Liv, maybe you want to introduce yourself?”

You glanced between Karen and Liv, suddenly aware of your hands, your posture, the rhythm of your own breathing. You didn’t dare meet either of their eyes.

But Liv just smiled, calm and effortless. A spitting image of her mom’s confident demeanor that always made you feel so at ease.

“Sure,” she said. “I’m Liv – but you already know that. Born and raised in New York. Columbia grad. Only five months younger than you, actually.” She paused, her tone light. “I only started working with my parents about a month ago. Funny thing is, I never wanted to join the family firm – like, at all. But here we are I guess.” She let out a soft, self-conscious laugh.

“As you know, your case is a big one for the firm, for us. When my parents asked if I wanted to help, I didn’t hesitate. I’ve been following your story from a distance since December. And… I just wanted to be part of it. To help you.”

Your breath caught, quiet and involuntary.

“Thank you,” you murmured, the words barely audible.

“Thank you,” she replied, quickly. “For trusting us.”

Your heart was thudding now, hard and fast.

“I don’t know if there’s anything else you want to know?” she asked, glancing between you and her mother.

Tell me everything about you, you thought. Tell me what makes you laugh, tell me what makes your heart happy. Tell me what music you play when you can’t sleep. Tell me your deepest fears, tell me your dreams. You can go on for hours, I won’t mind.

“I think that’s plenty for now,” Karen said, stepping in smoothly. “You’ll get to know each other soon enough. I’ve scheduled weekly calls between the two of you - briefings, mostly. And of course, if there’s anything urgent or in-depth, me, Marc, or Jacob will join.”

The thought of regular one-on-one calls with her made your stomach flip.

“Once a week, huh?” Liv grinned. “Hope you won’t get bored of me.”

You couldn’t answer. Not properly. Your brain fumbled for something – anything - witty or smooth or at least human.

But nothing came.

You just looked at her, at the soft gleam in her eyes and the gentle curve of her smile, and in that moment, it was like the whole world tilted toward her. You saw the sun and the sea and the whole world beaming back at you.

And something inside you sparked.

You felt it – it was clear and electric. You could feel your life changing.

There was a before, and there was an after.

And right then, you paused, letting the feeling wash over you. You never wanted to forget any of it. You wanted to remember it all.

The way your skin buzzed, the way your heart raced.

You didn’t want to forget a single second of it.

Chapter Text

(This chapter is Luigi’s POV, and we are back at the MDC in February of 2025)

Your first one-on-one call with Liv was scheduled just three days later, and you spent every moment leading up to it trying to make sense of what had happened -  trying to rationalize away the almost out-of-body experience of seeing her for the first time.

First of all, that day you’d been in a low place, even by jail standards. Vulnerable. Adrift. Feeling isolated.

The unexpectedness of it all had caught you off guard. Liv had walked into that room, and she was stunning  - that much was undeniable. Maybe that was all it was, a gut reaction to her striking beauty, amplified by your fragile state of mind – that spiraled into having you thinking that this was some kind of otherworldly connection.

Or maybe it ran even deeper. Maybe it was her connection to Karen and Marc – the two people who had become the steady pillars in the complete shitshow that was your life at the moment -  that made her presence feel so overwhelming. She was someone new and closer to your age, that yet somehow radiated the same warmth, the same familiar kindness.

Maybe, without realizing it, you had projected everything you already loved about their family onto her, and Liv had become a symbol of that safety and affection.

You were, and had always been, someone who was searching for logic, for order - some pattern or system to make sense any given question, any situation that was hard to understand. That was how your mind worked.

So the ridiculous idea that Liv could just walk into a sterile meeting room at the MDC - and instantly feel like the missing piece of your heart that your whole being had been longing for as long as you could remember… It just didn’t add up. It wasn’t rational. It was unrealistic to the point of being straight up laughable.

Because the truth - the truth you would never say out loud, never admit to anyone - was that your life had always been underscored by a quiet, aching deep desire for love. How desperate this desire was, was something that you would never tell a soul.

The truth – that you longed for someone to take your hands in theirs and smile at you and want you. That you longed for shared glances across a crowded room. For playful teasing and inside jokes and lazy mornings under the covers. For trust, for silence that didn’t need to be filled, for a sleepy voice whispering, I was just thinking of you. That you craved goodnight kisses and I never told another person that before. Mutual trust. Appreciation. Falling asleep together on the couch.

You wanted to be loved, and you didn’t know how long the poetry or your books would substitute for actually being loved.

While all the beautiful letters and art that poured into the MDC from supporters all over the world filled you with gratitude, and the love and admiration from strangers lifted your spirit and carried you through the long days - it wasn’t that kind of love. It nourished you, yes, but not the part of you that had been aching for as long as you could remember. That part remained untouched. Waiting. Hoping.

You had always wondered if love like that was even possible for you. If it was something the universe might someday offer, if it was in the cards - or if, deep down, it had never been meant for you at all.

Maybe it was just something that happened to other people. People who hadn’t spent a lifetime learning how to survive without it.

…

“Luigi?”

Just her saying your name - spoken softly, warmly, through the static of the phone - was enough to unravel all the rationalizations you’d spent the past three days so carefully constructing. In an instant, they fell apart like a house of cards in the slightest gust of wind.

The way your entire body reacted to just her voice told you everything you needed to know. This was not in any way rational. It never had been. And there was no point in pretending it could ever be.

“Hi, Liv - yeah, I’m here.”

Your voice came out shakier than you intended. You cleared your throat and tightened your grip on the phone, pressing it harder to your ear as your heart pounded in your chest.

“There you are,” she said, and you could hear the smile in her voice. “These phone lines are so fucking useless - I wasn’t sure if you could hear me or not.”

“I hear you,” you murmured, taking a slow breath, trying to steady yourself.

“Good.” A pause. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… good,” you said, unsure if it was true. “I guess. How’s the outside world?”

“It’s okay. Chaotic, as usual.” She let out a soft, almost nervous laugh. ”The news cycle is just one dumpster fire after another. Honestly, it might be more peaceful being locked up in the MDC with limited access to media than being out here, watching the clown world we’re living in unravel day by day.”

The bluntness of it caught you off guard, and you let out a low chuckle.

Then - silence. A shift.

“I’m so sorry, Luigi,” she said suddenly, her voice softer, riddled with guilt. ”I shouldn’t have said that. That was totally inappropriate. I - ”

“No, no,” you cut in, quick to stop her before she spiraled further. “Please. Don’t treat me like I’m fragile. Honestly, the inappropriate jokes made by your dad are half the reason I’m still sane in here.”

She exhaled into a laugh - this time, with a trace of relief.

“Okay. Are you sure? I just… I just want us to get this right. To find a way to talk to each other that you feel comfortable with. Not just about the case, but everything. The two of us, you and me.”

You and me. Your heart pounded hard in your chest.

“I’m sure,” you said softly. “Please… just be normal with me.”

A quiet settled between you - not awkward, just still.

“I will,” she said after a beat. “I promise.”

And she kept that promise.

Your calls, once just a procedural necessity, quickly became the most grounded, reliable and normal part of your life. A connection to something that felt real.

You fell into a comfortable rhythm, a ritual of sorts. Before diving into the case - updates on filings, motions,  strategies, or a run through of documents you needed to review - Liv would always begin with something unrelated. Something random. Something silly.

It could be a piece of celebrity gossip, like Katy Perry’s ten-second trip to space and the absurd conspiracy theories it spawned. A rumor about Ariana Grande and Offset sleeping together that seemed to originate from a TikTok someone posted. Or a strange but fascinating science update - like the creation of three wolf pups using extinct gray wolf DNA, a milestone in genetic engineering that sounded more like science fiction than news.

Half the time, you didn’t even know who or what she was even talking about. But it didn’t matter. Your heart swelled just hearing her voice filled with energy as she shared her random updates, determined to distract you from reality. Just for a moment.

And when she made you laugh, there was a shift. Her voice would soften, lower just slightly, brushing the edge of something more intimate. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe you imagined it. But you held onto it all the same.

You always thought about her and your calls before you fell asleep. The sound of her voice. The things you said. The way she laughed. The quiet pauses that stretched without needing to be filled. And then you’d dream. You dreamed of her. Because it was suddenly all about her.

Your days, your nights - somehow, it had all become about her.

For her the calls were routine, another conversation in a long day filled with responsibilities. But for you – they were healing you.

…

The next time you saw her in person was a few weeks later.

Karen and Marc had scheduled a visit, and they were bringing Liv along to share some updates - mostly about the public response to your letters and the growing support online. It was supposed to be an undramatic check-in. Practical. Informational.

But your nerves didn’t care about any of that.

You sat waiting, your fingers fidgeting restlessly beneath the table in an effort to calm yourself down.

You’d spoken to her so many times by now that she wasn’t a stranger anymore - far from it. Over the phone, you had managed to form something undefined, not yet named, but real. Undeniable.

The thought of seeing her again sent your pulse thundering in your ears.

If just the sound of her voice over the phone could leave you breathless, you had no idea what seeing her in person would do to you now, especially when your feelings hadn’t faded in the slightest. If anything, they’d only deepened.

You weren’t prepared for her to walk in first.

The door opened, and there she was. No warning. No chance to breathe. You shot to your feet, heart lurching into your throat. She was even more beautiful than you remembered - which honestly felt impossible.

Her dark, wavy hair was pulled up into a loose, effortless bun. She wore a grey oversized mohair sweater layered over a white button-down shirt, the first two buttons casually undone. Faded jeans. Gold hoops that caught the light when she moved. Soft pink lips, glossy, like she’d just applied something before walking in to see you.

Your knees wobbled. You instantly regretted standing so quickly.

She smiled as she walked toward you - and that’s when it hit you.

She was going to hug you. Of course she would.

It was how Karen and Marc always greeted you. Last time, Liv had only just met you, so there had been a polite distance. But now… now you’d spoken for hours. Shared stories. Laughed. Found a strange kind of intimacy in your phone calls. Now you were… close.

Now, you were people who hugged when seeing each other.

Panic rushed in. Your mind went blank. Your body forgot how to move. It was as if the wiring had short-circuited - the simple, automatic instructions like raise arms and step forward, suddenly out of reach.

You forced your arms up in a vague, robotic gesture, just as she stepped in close and wrapped hers around you.

She hugged you.

She pressed her body against yours.

For one surreal moment, your entire existence narrowed down to the exact points where your bodies touched. The rest of the world fell away -  the walls, the noise, even the fact that you were inside a federal detention center. None of it existed. Only her. Her warmth. The softness of her fuzzy sweater. The scent of her - something warm and familiar with a hint of vanilla, her cheek brushing yours as she leaned in.

Your thoughts vanished. There was no logic here. No sense to make of it.

There was only this: she was holding you.

You allowed yourself to take a deep breath - a breath of her. Maybe it was too obvious. Maybe she noticed. But you couldn’t stop yourself. You didn’t know when you’d ever be this close to her again. You had to take her in, memorize her.

You half-expected her to pull away. But she didn’t.

She held you longer.

Too long, maybe. Longer than anyone else might. Long enough that your heart started to pound against your ribs. You needed her to let go before you forgot how to stand. But she didn’t move.

This wasn’t a polite hug. This wasn’t a formality. And for once, you chose not to overthink it. You just… let yourself feel it.

“Good to see you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her lips close enough to your ear that it made something tighten in your chest.

Maybe you weren’t imagining it. The softness in her voice, the way she hadn’t let go right away – what if this moment meant something to her too?

Then the door opened behind her, and the sound of familiar voices broke through.

Karen and Marc.

Liv stepped back, her touch falling away, and just like that, the moment was gone.

At least physically.

But the imprint of it - her arms around you, her scent, her voice in your ear - was already etched into your soul. No matter what happened, this moment would stay with you. Forever.

Liv sat down across from you, pulling a neat stack of printed documents from her bag and placing them on the table. As she organized the pages, Karen and Marc made their way over, wrapping you in warm, familiar hugs, their voices immediately checking in.

”How are you feeling? Are you holding up okay?”

You nodded, gave them what you could. A half-smile.

Then you all settled into the meeting.

The overall legal strategy was still holding steady. So far, nothing from the prosecution had taken you by surprise - frustrating, sure, but expected. The more pressing issue was your still-limited access to a laptop, which continued to slow down your ability to review key files and documents.

It was a sore point, but you trusted Karen. If anyone could make it happen, it was her.

But today’s focus turned out to be not just logistics.

New documents had surfaced - records and notes from the day of your arrest. It was time to revisit that moment in detail. Karen needed your help walking through it, minute by minute, especially your first encounter with law enforcement at the Altoona McDonald's.

You could already feel your chest tighten at the mention of it.

Still, you went there. You had to. You let yourself slip back into that day, dragging memory up from the depths. You pieced it together, one painful fragment at a time.

An hour passed. Maybe more. The words came slowly, halting at times. Your voice dropped without you realizing it, and every answer felt like scraping something raw inside you.

You hated that day. Hated how powerless you’d been. Hated even more that you couldn’t go back and do any of it differently.

Sensing your exhaustion, Karen stood. “We’re going to grab some coffee,” she said gently. “You want anything?”

You shook your head. “I’m good.”

Marc offered a nod of understanding, and they both stepped out, giving you space.

But Liv stayed.

For a moment, the room was quiet again. You leaned back in your chair, tipping your head up toward the ceiling. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. Your hands rested in your lap, your body heavy with the weight of memory.

Liv looked at you for a long moment. There was something in her eyes - unflinching, open.

“Did you know I’m psychic?” she said suddenly.

You blinked. Then let out a startled laugh, tipping your head back before dropping your gaze to meet hers.

“Shut up,” you said, grinning. “You are not.”

“I’m serious.” She grinned right back, a mischievous spark in her eyes. “When I was younger, I used to get these visions. Real ones. I could see things before they happened.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Visions?”

“You don’t have to believe me.” She leaned back in her chair, arms crossing over her chest, eyes steady on you. “You’ll see. Eventually.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Really? How’s that?”

Her smile didn’t fade, but something shifted. The humor softened. Her voice dropped, almost a whisper.

“Because I’ve seen your future.”

Your pulse kicked up an involuntary, and you suddenly felt like you had a hard time breathing.

Something about the way she said it. The calm in her voice. The certainty.

She leaned forward across the table, her face closer now. Closer than it should be. You couldn’t look away.

“Spoiler alert,” she whispered. “It absolutely does work out for you. And better than you ever imagined.”

Your breath caught. You were sure she could see the way your chest rose, the way your hands twitched on the table. Every cell in your body was tuned to her voice.

“There are people waiting to meet you,” she said, her tone soft, steady. “People waiting to love you. There are places waiting for you to step into them, like they’ve been holding their breath.”

A rush of emotion surged through you so fast it made you dizzy. All you could do was stare at her.

“I can see it,” she continued. “Over the next fifty years, you’ll spend incredible moments with people you love. You’ll laugh so hard you cry. You’ll dance and sing and kiss and sit silently beside someone who understands you without words. You’ll cuddle in bed on a cold morning and feel safe and happy. You’ll watch endless of sunsets that will knock the air out of your lungs.”

She smiled - softly, warmly, like she was letting you in on a secret.

“There’s so much waiting for you.”

You felt your skin prickle. Your chest ached with something you couldn’t name.

Then she leaned back in her chair again, the moment settling, though the energy between you buzzed like static. The wide smile across her face was almost triumphant.

“I just want to give you a little reminder now and then, you know,” she said with a casual shrug, like she hadn’t just rewired something deep inside you.

“Life doesn’t end just because you lose yourself for a little while. This -” she gestured gently around the room “this is just a chapter. It’s not the whole story. You’re going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

Still, you couldn’t find words. Only her eyes. Only her voice. You were full to the brim with something you didn’t have the vocabulary for.

“Now you know, okay?” she said, and winked.

Something snapped loose inside you - some thread of tension you’d been holding for far too long - and you let out a sudden, breathless laugh. You dropped your head into your hands, arms resting on the table, shoulders shaking.

“Am I being annoying?” she asked through her own laughter, teasing.

You shook your head, unable to stop smiling.

Annoying? you thought. Are you not aware that my heart is practically trying to tear through my ribs just to get to you?

The laughter was fading from her lips, but the warmth was still flickering in her eyes.

“Just keep going” she smiled. “We got this.”

Chapter Text

You’d always known she had a boyfriend.

Karen had mentioned it casually, long before you ever even met Liv for the first time. It wasn’t something you dwelled on. It wouldn’t have made that much of a difference anyway - locked up in a detention center for God knew how long, it wasn’t as though you had any real expectations, no fantasies that your feelings for Liv might somehow be returned, that they might evolve into anything real or even nameable.

That just wasn’t realistic. Your feelings for her would have to stay your own.

And yet somehow, despite this, the bond between you continued to shift - changing in a quiet, steady way. Quietly, subtly - it grew. It deepened.

Had you met her under ordinary circumstances, her boyfriend might’ve become a bit of a complication by now - an awkward presence at the edges of every interaction, an issue that might have needed to be addressed. By you. By her. Maybe even by him.

But within the strange, suspended world of this place – of your current situation - the rules seemed different. Or perhaps they simply didn’t exist at all.

It was as if the two of you - and whatever this was that kept growing between you - existed in a kind of sealed-off pocket, a private vacuum untouched by the noise and expectations of the outside world. A place only the two of you had access to.

At least, that’s how it felt to you. Whatever her boyfriend might have thought of this quiet, constant deepening – the way you looked at each other, the shared laughter, the softness that passed between you more and more frequently - wasn’t really your concern. It didn’t belong to you.

Recently, Liv had started reading the same books as you. There was something intimate, almost sacred, in the way you shared your reading.

Whenever you mentioned you’d started a new book, she would find a copy too, matching you page for page. You both filled the margins with scrawled thoughts, underlined phrases that struck a nerve, circled sentences that you wanted to discuss with each other later.

Then, whenever you had the chance to meet, you would trade your books – sharing your notes and scribbles with each other.

This was a silent form of companionship, a way of being together even when you couldn’t be. Even when walls and guards and locked doors kept you physically apart, you were still inhabiting the same pages, the same words. You lived in each other’s margins, in each other’s notes. You were in each other’s space without really being there. You could go to a place only the two of you knew about.

There were moments when you found even more courage. When you felt brave enough to test the boundaries. Like the time you gave her a list of songs - tracks that, for one reason or another, reminded you of her.

You didn’t tell her that exactly, of course.

It was just a folded square of paper, passed across the table like it was nothing. You left it to her to fill in the meaning. But you knew what you were doing. Knew you might have been toeing the line of what was acceptable, which was why you waited until Karen and Jacob weren’t paying attention – their heads turned, distracted by something out of sight.

At the end of a meeting, you slid it across to her, quiet and quick. She didn’t ask what it was. Didn’t even glance at it. She simply tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans, then stood and gathered her things like nothing had happened. Not a word between you. But still, your heart hammered in your chest.

A few days later, her voice came through the phone - steady, casual. But you heard something else beneath it. You always did.

“I’ve been listening to the playlist you gave me,” she said, suddenly.

For a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“Yeah?” was all you managed, your voice thinner than you'd meant it to be.

“There are a few songs I’ve had on repeat, actually.”

You closed your eyes, the ache in your chest immediate. Your heart felt too big for your body.

“That Keane song,” she said, softer now. “It’s… God, it’s beautiful. It really captures a feeling of longing. That feeling of a private world that exists only between you and someone else, that kind of deep intimacy. I feel nostalgic listening to it for some reason.”

For a second, you were convinced she knew exactly what you were trying to say. Even the things you could never say out loud.

How she could leave you behind, just be your friend and forever nothing more than that. How you could end up seeing her only once a year, maybe even less. But how you would always be waiting for her in that secret place of yours, that you had somehow created together.

A place untouched by time or distance or even reality. A place the world could never reach.

And if you have a minute, why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So, why don't we go somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know

…

You allowed yourself to think of her. What else was there to do?

Out in the real world, being preoccupied by thoughts of someone you would never have, might have pulled your focus from things more urgent, more practical. But in here, in this strange and suspended life, if clinging to the idea of her helped you hold yourself together, then why not let it?

Why feel shame for the one thing that made the days pass with even a shred of meaning? If all you managed to do on any given day was keep yourself from falling apart, that alone was something to be proud of.

Still, you had to admit to yourself that there were days when the longing felt like a weight pressing against your chest. Unnecessary, even cruel.

There were moments when you felt foolish for letting yourself want anything at all. Not only were you locked in a place where the idea of romantic love felt impossible, almost laughable, but on top of that she was with someone else.

She loved someone else.

You reminded yourself of that more often than you cared to admit.

Maybe you should’ve learned to want less. Maybe you should have learned how to silence the ache that lit up inside you every time she smiled. Maybe the smart thing would’ve been to ignore the part of you that still yearned to be seen, touched, held. By her.

But you let your mind wander anyway.

You let yourself think about how you wanted her to touch you. Just once.

Her hands - soft, gentle - somehow seemed like they could quiet the noise inside you. How her arms wrapped around you might make all the burning pain in your body go quiet. How her hands holding your face would make everything feel better.

You were lonely here. And sometimes sad, too.

And every time she came to visit, you found yourself wishing for just a little more time. Just a few more minutes. A moment longer where it almost felt like you weren’t completely alone. Just a little bit longer.

…

“Heeey, Luigi.”

Her voice came through the receiver, bright and familiar, instantly softening something in your chest. That same warm, fluttery feeling settled over you like it always did when you had a call with her.

It was Friday, just after lunch - though calling it lunch felt generous. The food at the MDC was never much more than a reluctant necessity, and today you’d barely managed a few bites, stomach too tied up in the anticipation of your scheduled call.

“Are you in the mood to talk?” she asked.

Don’t you know how I love talking to you always? you thought. But the words stayed unspoken.

“I am,” you said instead, gripping the phone a little tighter, as though it could somehow bring her closer. “Got any uplifting and exciting news for me? Altoona Police Department finally shut down and burned to the ground?”

She laughed, that easy giggle of hers spilling into your ear like sunlight.

“Not yet,” she said. “Working on it though. Trust.”

You let out a chuckle. Your joint hatred towards the Altoona PD had become a running joke between you - equal parts humor and quiet rebellion.

“Any fun plans this weekend?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light. “You know exactly how I’ll be spending mine, so let me live vicariously through you for a second. Weren’t you heading upstate with your boyfriend?”

You feigned a pause, as if you were digging around in your memory for the name. “Eric, right?”

You knew damn well his name was Eric.

There was a brief silence on the other end. Then the faint sound of her clearing her throat.

“Yeah, no. That got cancelled actually. We, uh… we broke up.”

You silently thanked whatever gods might be listening that this conversation was happening over the phone and not face to face - because your expression would’ve betrayed you in an instant.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your pulse quickening, the surge of something too complicated to name. You struggled to steady your voice, wrestling your reaction into something neutral, something manageable.

“Sorry to hear that,” you said, the words catching slightly as they left your mouth - far more difficult to say than you’d expected. Anything more felt dangerous, too revealing. The turmoil churning in your chest needed to stay exactly where it was: hidden.

She gave a soft laugh, light and dismissive, as if she hadn’t just dropped something that shifted the air between you.

“Don’t be,” she said, her voice smooth, almost detached. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with this anyway.”

“You’re not bothering me,” you replied quickly. “You know I like hearing about… normal things.”

You chose your words carefully, stepped around them like they were glass.

There was another brief pause - just long enough to feel charged - before she answered.

“I know,” she said.

“So… want to tell me what happened?” you asked, your voice light, casual - at least you hoped it sounded that way. You didn’t want to push too hard, but you needed to know.

There was a pause on the other end, then a sigh.

“I don’t really know what happened, to be honest…” she said slowly. “I just realized it wasn’t a relationship I wanted to be in anymore. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. You tried to steady yourself, but the words came out anyway.

“You seemed… happy?” you let out, your face scrunching in discomfort the second the sentence escaped.

“I wasn’t,” she replied softly, but there was no hesitation in her voice - only quiet certainty. “Not really. Not anymore.”

She paused, as though weighing her words, then added, “The relationship was missing things I didn’t even know I needed. But now I do. I’ve started to understand what I’m actually looking for… and that wasn’t it. Far from it.”

Silence stretched between you for a moment. You knew this was a door cracked open - one you couldn’t afford to let close again.

“And what is it that you’re looking for then?” you asked, trying to keep your voice from sounding too eager. You held your breath.

Another pause. Then she laughed softly, the sound low and warm.

“Are you sure you want to hear me ramble about that?”

What if she knew? What if she somehow understood that this - exactly this - was the one thing you were dying to hear her talk about? That every part of you leaned in at the slightest crack in her voice, hoping, aching, needing.

“I don’t mind listening,” you said, trying to sound offhanded, casual. But your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might break free from your chest. You wondered if she could hear it through the phone.

“Okay…” she replied with a small, uncertain laugh. There was a pause, like she was choosing her words carefully, feeling out the shape of them before she gave them breath.

“What I want…” she began, her voice quieter now, thoughtful, “is something real. No games. I want that kind of relationship where you talk - like, really talk. A great communication kind of relationship.” A breath. “And I want it to be fun too. Playful. I love lots of flirting, you know? Lots of being goofy together.”

Then her voice dropped, not dramatically, but just enough. A subtle shift that sent a thrill down your spine.

“Lots of cuddling. Lots of sex.”

Your breath caught. Just for a moment. You almost said something, but didn’t. She didn’t seem fazed by what she’d said - like she’d just told you her favorite ice cream flavor.

But you could feel something changing in the air between you, even over the phone.

“I want the kind of love that makes you want to run a hundred miles for someone,” she went on, voice quieter, steadier now. “The kind that makes you want to give up your worst habits, be the best version of yourself. Not just for them - but because they make you want to be.”

There was something raw in the way she said it. Honest. Maybe even a little unguarded.

You sat there, phone pressed to your ear, trying not to let your entire soul show through the silence.

…

The next time you saw her, something had shifted. It was subtle, but you felt it in your chest, in the air between you. Like a door had quietly opened somewhere inside you, and suddenly you had begun to allow yourself to dream.  To live in delusion.

She occupied your thoughts constantly now. And given the chance, anytime, you would be willing to be whatever she wanted you to be – her friend, lover, something unnamed and in-between. It didn’t matter. You just knew that you wanted to be in her life, exist in her orbit, for as long as she’d allow it.

And now, every time you met with her felt like standing on the edge of something. Each meeting brimmed with possibility and quiet risk, heavy with all the things you couldn’t really say. There was suddenly so much on the line. So many moments you could either seize or let slip away.

And as always, she was beautiful. Unreasonably so.

It was always the same every time you met her - you needed the first few minutes just to adjust to her presence. It was like staring into too much light. You couldn’t describe it in any other way except that she was bright. Not in some obvious, flashy way.

It was much more subtle than that - something in the way she was, the way she moved, the quiet magnetism about her.

Today, she wore all black. A fitted, long-sleeved t-shirt, tucked neatly into high-waisted black jeans. A black fuzzy knit sweater was draped loosely over her shoulders.

And then there were the glasses - those black-framed reading glasses she only brought out when the paperwork got really serious. From time to time, she’d absentmindedly push them up onto her head, the gesture sweeping her dark, wavy hair back from her face in a way that made your breath catch every single time.

You loved her in those glasses.

Liv was joined by both of her parents, and with time limited, the meeting moved briskly. You dove straight into the latest motions, reviewed recent dialogue with the prosecution, and combed through the slow but steady developments in your case.

There was a considerable amount of work to prepare for the upcoming federal court date, and everyone on the team worked tirelessly to get everything in place until then.

Still, amid the seriousness, Liv used a few minutes for one of her regular social media updates.

She pulled out a thick stack of printed screenshots, setting them on the table in front of you.

“I thought you might want to see how the discourse around you is evolving,” she said, smoothing out the top page with a glint in her eyes. “Some of it is more serious… some of it I just printed to make you laugh, let’s be honest.”

Marc leaned back in his chair and let out a low chuckle as Liv held up one of the printouts - a tweet, boldly suggesting you should be nominated as the next pope.

“I’ve been involved in my fair share of high-profile cases,” he said, shaking his head, “but I’ve honestly never seen anything quite like this.”

“They sure are creative,” Karen murmured distractedly, eyes scanning a document in front of her as she kept underlining sentences with her marker.

Liv began spreading more screenshots across the table: tweets, memes, Reddit threads, a viral TikTok edit with hundreds of thousands likes.

“As you can see, interest in the case - and in you as a person - is still very much alive. Even now when there is not much happening with the actual case” she explained. “Your supporters are especially active on TikTok, Reddit, and X. There’s constant discussion, a steady stream of content, and yes - some inevitable drama.”

She paused, barely containing her amusement. “Most of it is harmless. Just people arguing about the best way to support you. Whether it’s appropriate to discuss your abs or not.”

Heat bloomed across your cheeks. You looked at Liv - just a flicker of eye contact - and saw a small, smug smile tugging at the corner of her mouth before she quickly dropped her gaze back to her notes.

You picked up one of the printouts and examined it more closely. It was a meme ranking your "greatest eras," complete with a color-coded table - from your high school robotics team days to your post-college backpacking through Asia. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or groan.

Liv reached for another small bundle of papers and hesitated, the smile still lingering on her lips.

“You’ve also got some presence on platforms that are less... traditional. Primarily image- and video based. But also - surprisingly - a fair bit of written content.”

Marc raised an eyebrow. “She means fanfics.”

You stared at him. “Fanfics?”

Marc grinned. “I didn’t even know what the hell that was until Liv explained it to me. But apparently, you’re quite the romantic muse online.”

You blinked. “What kind of fics are we talking about?”

Liv gave you a look - equal parts mortified and reluctant to admit she knew the answer.

“There’s nothing defamatory,” she said quickly. “We’ve been scanning everything regularly with our monitoring tools. It’s just... mostly romantic. Some are, um, a bit more explicit. But still relatively respectful.”

Marc nodded, clearly entertained. “Right, Liv? You’ve read through a few.”

Liv cleared her throat, flipping through her stack of papers nervously.

“I only skimmed them,” she said, her voice low and unconvincing. “Just enough to make sure they weren’t... problematic.”

You caught her eye, and for the briefest second, she looked up at you. A flicker of a smile crossed her face - tight-lipped, uncertain. It hit you somewhere deep and strange, twisting in your gut.

The world outside the MDC - the version of reality that existed around you as a person, your case - still felt surreal most days.

Depending on your mood, it could strike you as entertaining, absurd, flattering - or, more often than not, as slightly overwhelming.

Most of the time you tried to find ways to enjoy it, making the most of this surreal situation. You wrote letters back to people when you had the energy, found pleasure in surprising them with sincerity, or with an unexpected  joke.

There was still some small thrill in remaining unpredictable, even within the confines of your draining circumstances – trying to have fun with it to the extent it was even possible.

But this was something else entirely.

The knowledge that Liv had read stories - explicit fictions with you at the center - sparked something new in you. Not shame, exactly. Not even embarrassment. Something more complicated.

You didn’t even know what to call it.

It wasn’t just the idea that people out there were writing those things about you - creating versions of you that were fictional – erotic even. You’d come to accept a long time ago that you would never be able to control those type of things.

No, it was the image of her reading it. Her eyes scanning words where you were someone’s obsession, someone’s desire.

And for a moment, you wondered what she thought as she read them. What part of her kept reading. If she saw the distance between who you were on the page and who you were here, in front of her.

And maybe what unnerved you most was how much you wanted her to think about it. About you, that way.

There was a storm gathering inside you, a feeling not easily named. A kind of vulnerability, with the strange, almost unbearable weight of being seen in ways you hadn’t chosen.

Having her see you like that.

“And then there’s the matter of the letters,” Marc said, cutting through your thoughts and pulling you abruptly back into the room.

You blinked, reorienting yourself as he continued, his voice returning to that practiced, professional tonality.

“We’re working closely with the MDC to sort it out, but... it’s an unprecedented situation for them, too. They’ve never had a single individual receive this kind of volume of mail. Not even close.”

As he spoke, he began gathering his things - papers stacked neatly, pens clicked shut, his laptop sliding into the padded sleeve of his worn bag. The table slowly cleared between you.

“But yeah,” he went on, with a half-shrug, “there’s still a pretty serious backlog. Letters, art, drawings – all kinds of things. A lot of photos of your supporters of course. Some of it’s been sitting there since December, if you can believe that.”

He zipped up his bag, the sound sharp.

“A whole trove of Christmas cards to look forward to” he added, smiling faintly, “just in time for summer.”

There was a trace of amusement in his voice, but you could hear something beneath it, too - the quiet astonishment that hadn't faded, even after months of handling the surreal logistics of your life.

Karen and Marc stepped outside to finalize the arrangements for your transfer to the next court appointment, leaving Liv behind with you. The silence that settled in their absence stretched between you.

“Anyone cute?” she asked suddenly, glancing up from the stack of papers in front of her.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

“I mean, did anyone send you a photo you liked?” Her voice was casual, but her gaze - sharp and unwavering - held something else entirely. You couldn’t read it. Not exactly. Was it curiosity? Amusement? A flicker of something else - jealousy?

Whatever it was, she didn’t look away. And there was something in the way she held your gaze - calm, steady, a touch challenging - that made your pulse quicken. It wasn’t like her. Or maybe it was, just in a way you hadn’t seen before.

Something about it made you feel… different. Bolder.

A slow smirk curled at the edge of your mouth. “What’s it to you?”

The question hung in the air like static, the silence between you suddenly thick with something unnamed. Whatever was passing between you couldn’t be acknowledged - not here, not now. But it was there, unmistakable.

She arched an eyebrow, lips quirking with the hint of a smile. “My professional opinion? You should be careful.”

There was just enough mischief in her tone to give you permission to keep pushing.

“Yeah?” you said, leaning in ever so slightly. “Careful of what, exactly?”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. “You’re a smart guy,” she said softly. “I think you know.”

“I think I’m safe,” you said, a hint of tease in your voice. “I’ve got officers on me around the clock, remember? You know, if anyone tries anything…” You gave her a wink.

She giggled, soft and sudden.

“But you know what I mean…” she said, her voice drifting as she searched for the words. “There are a lot of women out there who… you know.”

She glanced down at the papers in front of her, then looked back up, a small smile tugging at her lips.

You couldn’t help yourself - you smirked, leaning into the moment. “A lot of women who…?” you teased, fully aware of what you were doing.

She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. “What do you want me to say, Mangione? That there are a lot of women who want to sleep with you?”

Your stomach flipped, a laugh escaping before you could stop it - sharp, surprised, a little breathless.

Her words had come out in a rush, laced with feigned exhaustion - but something about the color rising in her cheeks made you pause. Was she blushing?

This wasn’t like her. Not at all. And that, more than anything, threw you off.

In any other setting, you would know exactly what to do. Flirty banter came easy to you - it was a rhythm you knew well. It had never been a problem. But in here, with her, the rules were different. The lines were extremely blurry at this point. This wasn’t a game you knew how to play.

“You have a pretty face and you know it,” she said, a small smirk on her face. “But those of us who has the privilege to know you beyond that, to know you privately… we see more than that.”

Her gaze softened, holding yours now not with mischief, but with something else. Something quieter.

“We know that you also have a pretty heart. And a pretty soul.”

She let the words settle before continuing, her voice low and steady.

“And I want you to be careful with who you trust with that pretty soul.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t awkward. It was charged.

“Your soul,” she said, “is both soft and haunted. And there are people who will walk into your life and treat that softness like it’s theirs to take. That’s just the way the world is.”

Her eyes didn’t leave yours. For a moment, it felt like the walls around you disappeared.

“I’m big on souls, you know… I always fall in love a little with anyone who shows me their soul,” she said with a low chuckle. Her voice soft, almost reverent. “I appreciate that rawness in people so much. But…” Her eyes flicked up to meet yours again. “Not everyone deserves that kind of access. I want you to remember that.”

Did she know what she was doing to you?

You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of how fast your heart was beating. “I get what you’re saying,” you murmured, your voice a little rough at the edges. “But I think… you have to love. You have to feel. That’s the reason we are here on earth, isn’t it? To risk the heart.”

You paused, trying to gather the right words.

“For me, that’s the most beautiful thing about humanity. We lean into love, even in the most hideous circumstances. Even when we know we could lose everything. We keep choosing hope. We keep leaning in.”

She was watching you as you spoke with a quiet intensity, her expression unreadable - but something in her gaze had shifted.

A silence settled between you. Something hovered in it, unsaid.

Then, finally, she broke it with a dry laugh, shaking her head. “You know I’m only saying all this because I care about you - not because I’m trying to be a cock block.”

Her comment cracked the air between you, and you let out a laugh.

“I’m your biggest fan,” she said, her voice low and certain. “Your top supporter. I’m with you. Every step of the way. I want to see you win, you hear me? I want you to have everything you ever dreamt of.”

You wanted to tell her. Right then, right there.

That the dream was her.

That in every vision you had of your future, every version of peace or victory you could imagine – she was there. That she occupied your thoughts, your sleep.

Last night, you’d dreamed of her again. And in the dream? Her. Her. Her. And only her.

Not in some wild, cinematic way - but in the small, devastating intimacy of the ordinary.

You were doing laundry together. You were folding clothes. In your dreams you were making her pasta and nothing bad had happened to you.

And in the dream, everyone had everything they’d been longing for.

She had returned to her papers in front of her, flipping through the printed pages with quiet focus, her lips moving slightly as she read under her breath. Karen and Marc were still outside, their conversation drifting faintly from the corridor as they spoke to the staff.

You used the quiet moment to watch her – study her. She didn’t notice. Her attention was deep in the documents before her, glasses perched on her nose, a single strand of hair slipping forward over her cheek. She shook her head gently, trying to get it out of her face - her concentration still unbroken.

There was something about the moment - something quiet and charged - that made everything blur at the edges.

The room and the reason you were here in the first place, they all faded into a soft haze.

Sitting this close to her, in this loaded silence, reminded you too much about the dreams you were having about her. It disoriented you. Made you forget exactly where you were. Was this real or was this one of your dreams?

All you could feel was the gravity between you, that familiar closeness.

You knew better. You knew not to move.

But something inside you, restless and aching, pushed forward.

You leaned in over the table, just slightly, the motion small but enough to draw her attention. She looked up, startled by the sudden shift, her eyes widening as she found your face unexpectedly close to hers.

There was a flicker of something in her eyes - uncertainty, perhaps, or maybe anticipation.

For a breathless second, neither of you said a word. You felt yourself slipping in the warm, steady depth of her dark eyes.

“May I?” you asked, your voice low, barely above a whisper.

Her lips parted just slightly as she exhaled, a slow, quiet breath.

Then your hand moved before your thoughts could catch up.

Soft, uncertain fingers - trembling as you reached for the strand of hair that had been falling into her face. Gently, reverently, you tucked it behind her ear.

She flinched - just a little - at the touch, and for a moment her expression was impossible to read.

There was no sound in the room but your breathing.

“There you go,” you murmured, voice barely steady, retreating to your seat as though waking from a trance.

The moment shattered as the door opened again.

Marc and Karen stepped back into the room, their conversation still mid-flow, unaware of what they were interrupting. Liv straightened in her seat, her posture sharpening, her gaze darting to the documents before her.

She didn’t look at you. She couldn’t. The tension she had let linger for a heartbeat too long now vanished beneath a carefully composed mask.

But you knew she felt it too.

Because for a moment, she had leaned into it just as much as you did.

This was too delicate to be just a friendship, right? You thought to yourself.

She was perfection personified. You were tired of pretending otherwise. Your only fear now was that you may love her more than you will ever be allowed to.

You didn’t want to beg.

But God, please. Please. Love me. Love me.

In another life, you could see the sky out of your bedroom window again. You would watch the stars as you fall asleep. And she would hold you when you cried. She would hold your face in her hands and tell you it’s going to be okay. She would be kind to you with the sort of gentleness you never learned to offer yourself.

Just once, you wanted someone to save you. Just once, you wanted to be worthy of it. To be capable of taking it.

You will get there.

But not today.

Right now, you’re here. And you wait and ache.

Chapter Text

The six-hour time difference between you and Luigi in New York was an invisible weight on the time away from him - a source of frustration that only deepened the ache of missing him.

In the morning, when you woke with a desperate craving just to hear his voice, it would be 2 a.m. in New York. He was deep in sleep, unreachable. And by the time evening fell around you, when you lay in bed yearning for him, he was running around with your dad, busy with meetings.

You had to find your moments in the overlap - brief windows where you had shared time. In your afternoon when he was just starting his day over coffee, and again around your midnight, when his meetings had finally ended and you were half-asleep, whispering to him in the dark as sleep crept closer with every word.

It was early afternoon in Italy now, the sun high and heavy in the July sky. You had just returned from lunch at the Ricci’s with your mom, and as you stepped back into the cool of the house, you kicked off your sandals and let your bare feet move quietly over the smooth, chilled hardwood floors.

Your mom followed just a few paces behind, on the phone as always, her voice blending into the background. Through the open glass doors leading to the patio, you could hear Celine and Ben’s laughter echoing from somewhere near the pool, bright and carefree.

You made your way to the kitchen, pulled open the refrigerator, and retrieved a bottle of cold water. The heat had settled into everything now - the kind of pressing warmth that turned the air heavy and slow.

Even in your favorite Reformation white linen dress, light and airy, you could feel beads of sweat forming at your hairline. You twisted the cap off the bottle and drank deeply, letting the water cool you down from the inside out.

Then a sound, low and insistent, broke through the quiet. A phone buzzing on the marble surface of the kitchen island.

You turned instinctively toward the noise and saw Celine’s phone vibrating against the counter. Without thinking, you crossed the room to grab it for her.

But as you neared the screen and saw the name lighting up, your steps slowed.

Luigi.

Your brows pulled together instinctively, a flicker of confusion. Why was Luigi calling Celine?

You hesitated for a beat, then pressed the screen to answer, switching it to speaker.

“Hey baby,” you said, your voice a mixture of surprise and something more uncertain. Silence greeted you for a moment.

“Liv? Is that you?” Luigi’s voice came through, slightly startled, as though caught off guard.

“Yes, it’s me. Why are you calling Celine’s phone?”

Another pause. You stared at the glowing screen, waiting.

“Luigi?”

“Yeah, sorry - no, I tried calling you first. Couldn't get through,” he replied, his tone clipped.

You frowned. “No, you didn’t. I’ve had my phone with me all day. That’s all I do lately you know - wait for your calls.” You let out a half-laugh.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe it’s the connection or something. I’m just glad I reached you. I really needed to hear your voice.”

Your face softened. A small smile tugged at your lips. “I’m happy to hear yours too. What are you doing baby?”

“I’m out walking. Needed to just clear my head a bit before our first meeting. It’s going to be a long day.”

You exhaled softly, wishing you could reach across the distance and offer him something more than words. “I feel so bad for you, baby. I wish I could be there to take care of you. Will you get any time to breathe today? Even a little break?”

There was a pause, then a hint of warmth returned to his voice. “Yeah, I think so. Your dad actually made a reservation for us at Enso Omakase tonight. It’s that place with the Edomae style sushi you know? He remembered I liked it. Said he specifically thought of me when he booked it. Honestly… he’s the best.”

You smiled. “Yeah, sure, he is sweet… But let’s be real - he’s dragging you out for his own reasons too. He’s been dying to socialize in New York after being stuck in Italy for so long. I’d bet anything he’s already lined up half of his social circle to ‘accidentally’ run into you after dinner.”

Luigi let out a low chuckle, the sound you loved so much. “Yeah… he did mention something about bar hopping afterwards. We’ll see how long I can keep up with him. I’m not sure I’ve got the stamina for one of your dad’s big nights out.”

You laughed softly, imagining the two of them weaving through some Manhattan rooftop crowd, your dad in his element, Luigi trailing behind him.

“Okay, baby, I’m back at the apartment now,” Luigi said, his voice softening as the background noise of the city faded behind a closing door. “I need to get ready for our first meeting. I’ll text you during the day and maybe I can call you once we’re done, before dinner. Should be around five here, so right before midnight for you, okay?”

You nodded instinctively, even though he couldn’t see it. “Okay,” you murmured. The word came out smaller than you meant it to.

He caught it.

“Can you make it without me until then?” he asked, teasing gently, but there was sweetness underneath it - something real and concerned.

You hesitated. “Honestly? I’m not sure.” You tried to laugh it off, but you didn’t know if it was a joke or not.

Luigi let out a quiet chuckle, and the sound wrapped around your heart. “You know… just do what I do when I miss you too much.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“I put in my AirPods,” he said. “I blast some Frank Ocean on full volume… and then I think about that time I fucked you in the shower until you screamed, while your family was downstairs eating breakfast.”

“Baby!” You gasped, laughing. “What the hell? You’re on speaker.” Your eyes darted around the room in a flash of panic. Thankfully, your mom was still on the phone somewhere in the hallway, and Celine and Ben were still outside by the pool.

You fumbled to turn off the speaker, heart racing, and pressed the phone tight against your ear, cheeks flushed and burning.

He was laughing now. “Sorry, baby… just thought you needed some advice.”

You covered your face with one hand, groaning into it. “Thanks,” you said, half exasperated, half amused, your voice tinged with reluctant affection. “I guess.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, with a sly edge, you added, “Not sure how imagining you pleasuring me to the point of screaming is supposed to make me miss you less, though.”

Luigi’s low laugh came through the line again. “It isn’t. That was kind of the point. I don’t want you to.”

…

After you’d said your reluctant goodbyes to Luigi - dragging out the final few seconds on the call - you grabbed your sunglasses and walked across the room.

The house was quiet now, with just a distant hum of summer. You stepped outside into the sunlight, the heat instantly wrapping around you like a second skin and made your way toward the pool.

Celine and Ben were no longer swimming - the ripples on the water had stilled, reflecting the sky in shimmering patterns. Ben sat at the edge of a sunbed, hunched over his phone, his thumb flicking idly across the screen.

Celine was stretched out beside him, her body draped across the lounger, a wide-brimmed straw hat tilted over her face to shield her from the sun. Her eyes were closed, looking utterly relaxed.

You dropped into the empty lounger beside them with a quiet sigh, letting the cushion take the weight of your limbs. You folded your legs in underneath the skirt of your dress, pressed your sunglasses into place and tilted your face toward the sky.

For a moment, no one spoke. Just the soft whisper of wind through the cypress trees, and the occasional ripple of water lapping against the pool’s edge.

Then Ben cleared his throat, abrupt in the quiet.

“Luigi’s trending again,” he muttered, his gaze never lifting from the screen. “On X.”

Your head turned toward him instinctively. “He is? I thought he and dad managed to stay quite low key.”

Ben didn’t answer immediately. His eyes stayed glued to the screen.

“I saw a few pictures yesterday,” you continued, brow furrowing. “Just them at the airport, a couple of blurry ones. But that’s it, I think?”

“Hold on… Let’s see what this is about” Ben murmured, still scrolling, his expression sharpening with interest.

You watched him, a knot forming in your stomach. Something about the sudden focus in his eyes made you nervous.

“Yooo…” he whispered suddenly, his arm stiffening as he pulled the phone slightly away from his face, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and horror. “Liv…”

You sat up abruptly, every muscle taut. “What? What is it, Ben? Tell me.”

Startled by your voice, Celine stirred. She peeled the hat off her face and blinked into the sunlight, pushing herself upright. “What the hell’s going on?”

Ben looked genuinely pained as he pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, his eyes searching yours with a mix of disbelief and sympathy. “I don’t know how to say this, but... your ex just went on a podcast. A full sit-down. And he’s talking about you. And Luigi.”

You blinked, your heart thudding loudly in your ears. “Who?” But you already knew.

Ben raised his eyebrows and tilted his phone toward you. “Who do you think? Eric. It’s Eric. He’s on a podcast telling the world you left him for Luigi - while Luigi was still in jail.”

Celine’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck?” She leaned in, squinting at the screen. “No. No fucking way.”

You felt the blood drain from your face. This wasn’t happening.

“What podcast?” you asked, your voice tight. You reached for Ben’s phone, and he handed it over without a word. There it was - Eric’s smug face plastered across a YouTube thumbnail, his expression grave beneath the headline in bold letters: Luigi Mangione Stole My Girlfriend.

“The Viall Files, for some reason” Ben said, almost wincing. “Hosted by that guy Nick. Bachelor alum or whatever.”

And then it clicked. You remembered.

“Shit. Of course. Seth knows him. You know Seth, Eric’s friend from college?” You looked over at Celine and she nodded.  ”They used to work together at Warner, they produced that dating show. I think Eric mentioned going out with them for drinks once or twice. Thought they hit it off.”

Your thumb hovered over the play button before you could stop yourself, and with a deep breath, you tapped it.

The trailer launched with cinematic flair - slow-motion shots of Nick and Eric seated across from each other, facing a microphone each. The music was dramatic, almost absurd in its self-importance. Then Nick’s voice, calm and theatrical, spilled over the tension.

“So what you’re saying is... when you thought she was just doing her job, defending a murder suspect... in reality, that murder suspect was seducing your girlfriend?”

A beat. A close-up of Eric’s face, solemn and heavy with melodrama. Fucking ridiculous.

“Yes,” he said at last. “But I didn’t understand that at the time. That I was being duped. By both of them.”

“Oh my fucking god,” you groaned, the words dragged out through clenched teeth as you tossed the phone onto the lounger beside you with a thud.

You pressed your palms hard against your face, elbows braced on your knees. “I can’t. I literally can’t watch this.”

Heat flooded your cheeks by a nauseating kind of embarrassment that made your skin crawl.

Ben took the phone back wordlessly, his lips slightly parted in disbelief.

“He does realize this is the kind of thing a person with an ounce of dignity would never say out loud, right?”

“He’s such a fucking embarrassment,” Celine said, aghast. “Like truly pathetic.”

She sat beside you, slowly shaking her head in disbelief.

“Like, I knew he was a loser,” she said, her voice laced with a kind of stunned awe. “But this? This is a whole new tier of pathetic. New loser level unlocked.”

Ben ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, and look… Even if you were seduced by a ridiculously attractive inmate, that’s nobody’s business but yours. Yours and maybe, maybe, Netflix’s… when they inevitably option the story for a six-part mini series.”

Your head was still buried in your hands – it was too soon for jokes, but you still appreciated Ben’s effort. Your thoughts ran in endless, looping circles. There were a hundred ways this could spiral, and none of them were good.

This wasn’t just a PR nightmare.

It was personal.

“This is such a fucking disaster… I don’t even know how to tell mom,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Before you could even finish the sentence, the sound of a door slamming open echoed through the house. Heavy footsteps followed, swift and furious, and then your mom came into view, her face an alarming shade of red.

“What the actual fuck?” she barked. “Why am I getting calls from TMZ asking about our client protocols because your ex-boyfriend did a tell-all podcast interview?”

Ben lifted his hands in self-defense. “We just saw it, literally seconds ago.”

Your mom marched over and shoved her phone into your hands with the force of someone barely holding back a scream. “Just look at this!”. Just the headline alone made your heart drop.

SCANDAL ALERT: LEGAL LOVE TRIANGLE? LUIGI MANGIONE'S PRISON ROMANCE SPARKS MAJOR GOSSIP

You stared at it, your mouth slightly open, the words blurring for a moment as your brain tried to catch up to what your eyes were seeing. Legal love triangle? Prison romance?

You continued reading, your heart pounding louder with each sentence, not knowing whether to laugh, scream, or disappear entirely.

Your mom, however, did not laugh.

Things are heating up in the world of high-profile legal drama. Just last week, news broke that acquitted CEO shooting suspect Luigi Mangione is officially off the market - reportedly dating one of the paralegals who worked on his high-stakes defense. And if that wasn’t juicy enough, the twist? She’s also the daughter of his powerhouse New York attorneys, Karen and Marc .

But buckle up, because the drama doesn’t end there.

In a headline-making appearance on The Viall Files podcast, the paralegal’s ex-boyfriend dropped a bombshell, claiming Mangione started seducing his then girlfriend from behind bars .

As the whispers grow louder, the law firm at the center of it all has remained noticeably silent, with no official word on whether their attorney-client protocols were, shall we say - blurred . One question remains on everyone’s mind: what’s really happening behind the closed doors of one of N ew York’s most elite defense firms ?

Stay tuned. This legal affair might just be getting started.

You looked up from the screen. Your mom was still standing next to you, her jaw locked, her fury simmering just beneath the surface.

Ben leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I mean… does he even realize what he’s done? This is beyond gossip - it’s reputational damage. To all of you. To the firm.”

“He’s an idiot.” Your mom bit out. “Eric’s always been stupid, let’s be honest.”

“Wow, Karen - you’re not holding back, are you?” Ben said with a short laugh.

“Sorry, but it’s true.” Her eyes cut to you - sharp, appraising. “You always used to date below your intelligence, Liv. At least you finally grew out of that.”

Then she let out a deep sigh.

“But Ben is right - now people are dragging our name through the mud. Our firm. Your father and I have spent our entire careers building our reputation and now look -  now we’re in the news for all the wrong reasons because he wanted his 15 minutes of fame.”

You stood abruptly, heart thudding. “I need to call Luigi.”

“No,” your mother snapped, her voice sharp. “He and your dad have much more important things to tend to today than this shit show.”

She turned and began dialing, her fingers flying across the screen. You stared, unblinking, as she brought the phone to her ear.

It felt as though the floor had given way beneath you, like the ground itself had betrayed your footing. This wasn’t just a mess - it was a full-blown catastrophe.

“Who are you even calling?” you whispered, pointing to her phone.

“I’m calling Eric’s mother.”

“Oh, shit,” Ben let out another laugh.

Your mom took a few steps away, composed herself, and cleared her throat. Her voice turned immediately cordial - dangerously so.

“Oh, hi Mary, this is Karen - Liv’s mom.”

Then she disappeared back into the house, heels clicking against the tile as she walked out of sight.

You could only stand there, numb and furious, the weight of this public disaster crashing down on your shoulders like a tidal wave.

A few minutes passed in heavy silence. You, Ben, and Celine sat by the pool, the sun sliding lower in the sky, casting long golden fingers across the water. You sat frozen in your lounger, still mortified, your mind looping through every second of the podcast trailer like a nightmare on repeat.

Eventually, the sound of heels clicked softly against the tiled patio again – your mom was back.

She stepped out into the sunlight, her posture impeccable, her face composed into that cool, unreadable expression she’d perfected over years in the courtroom.

“Mary’s handling it,” she said, her tone brisk and businesslike. “Eric will be releasing a statement.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, the tension in your chest loosening only slightly.

“But the damage is done,” she added without missing a beat. Her voice was flat, tinged with frustration. “I never imagined he could be this stupid.” She pause for a moment. “I want to know what he was paid.”

She was already typing on her phone, her thumbs moving with urgency.

She looked up again, her eyes already elsewhere. “I need to speak with the PR team. We’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do today. I’ll talk to you later.”

…

The rest of the day blurred into a tense haze, none of you being able to think about anything else - every conversation between you looping back to the humiliating podcast episode and how pathetic Eric was.

Phones buzzed incessantly, screens lighting up with texts, calls, and an overwhelming flood of DMs. Your mom had to take most of the heat, handling reporters and clients with the fierce composure of someone used to managing crises - just not quite this personal.

Still, the sheer volume of noise eventually became too much, even for you. At one point, you had to turn off your phone and completely step away. You needed a few hours of quiet to gather your thoughts and let your mind rest from the whole circus.

By dinner time, everyone was emotionally frayed. You ended up downtown for pizza, trying to pretend everything was fine, even as your mom’s phone vibrated beside her plate. No one really spoke much - just chewed, occasionally stared at their screens, and sighed.

When you finally got back to the house, the thought of your bed felt like the only thing holding you together.

“Hey guys,” you said softly, pausing by the stairs in the living room where Celine and Ben were already curled up on the couch, flicking through movie options. “I think I’m going to call it an early night. Today’s been... draining.”

Ben looked up and gave you a sympathetic smile. “Can’t blame you.”

Celine nodded, her voice gentle. “Sleep well, okay?”

At the kitchen island, your mom sat perched on a stool, glasses low on her nose as she typed something on her laptop. She glanced up, her expression softening.

“Of course, honey,” she said, her voice laced with quiet exhaustion. “I’ve got a few more things to wrap up, but I won’t be far behind you. Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

Back in your room, you took a quick shower, changed into a soft cotton pajama, and slid under the covers of your bed. Your hair was still damp, your skin warm from the water. A book waited in your lap, but your eyes kept drifting away from the page.

Exhaustion settled deep in your bones. It wasn't just physical - it was emotional.

You let out a long, steady breath and dropped your head back against the pillow, eyes tracing the faint pattern on the ceiling. For a few suspended seconds, you let yourself be completely still.

Just as the pull of sleep began to blur the edges of your thoughts, your phone buzzed on the nightstand beside you, slicing through the quiet.

You reached for it, heart already thudding.

Luigi.

A breath caught in your throat. You answered instantly.

“Hey, baby,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly from the weight of the day. The second you heard his voice, warm and steady on the other end, you felt that familiar ache swell in your chest - the ache of longing, of comfort, of safety.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, and your eyes prickled with sudden, unexpected tears.

You pulled the blanket tighter around your body, tucking it up under your chin, as if you could somehow wrap yourself in the sound of him. His voice came through the phone like the softness of worn cotton – soothing and safe.

“Another day, another drama,” Luigi said with a low, almost amused chuckle. “I just had to call you before your dad and I head out for dinner. Are you okay?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “It was drama alright. This day has been… exhausting. I can’t believe Eric actually did that. I’m so sorry, baby.”

There was a pause, then another chuckle - low, dry. “He’s a clown,” Luigi said simply. “I’m not too worried about it.”

That single sentence lifted something from your chest. He didn’t sound angry. He didn’t sound shaken. He sounded like Luigi - unbothered, grounded.

Relief swept through you, and your shoulders dropped slightly into the mattress. For the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe.

“Your mom called your dad, and I swear, I could hear her yelling through the phone from the other room. I’ve never heard her like that before”.

You sighed, brushing a hand through your hair. “Yeah. This hit her pretty hard,” you admitted. “She’s always treated Eric like family. Taking care of him. I think she feels really betrayed – that he could even do this.”

Luigi was quiet for a moment. “I get that. I really do. It’s not just me he’s targeting anymore. If anything, he’s hurting your parents.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m honestly so done. It’s just sucks knowing my ex is this unhinged. It’s embarrassing really.”

“Well, I have Vanessa” he said, a playful lilt in his voice. “We both came with some baggage, babe. Maybe we can call it even now - although I wouldn’t be surprised if Vanessa decided to do a podcast sit down next. Wouldn’t put it past her.”

You gave a tired laugh. “Please, don’t put that kind of energy out into the universe.”

He chuckled, then paused for a moment. “I actually listened to the podcast episode. The one with Eric.”

You straightened, incredulous. “No, you didn’t.”

“I did,” he confirmed, the amusement in his voice now unmistakable. “Your dad and I listened to it together. In the car between meetings.”

You groaned into your hand. “Stop. I can’t.”

“He had a few interesting things to say, you know…” You could hear the smirk through the phone.

“Really? Like what?” you asked warily.

He paused for moment. “Apparently, you were obsessed with me.”

Your face went hot, and despite yourself, a laugh escaped. “He said that, huh?”

“He did,” he said, now fully basking in it. “He said that I was all you could talk about. That I was constantly on your mind. Right from the beginning, after the first time you met me. You talked about me nonstop.”

“He’s full of shit.”

“Is he, though?” His voice dropped, smoothing into something lower, darker. “Why would he lie about something like that?”

You found yourself smiling despite the ridiculousness of it all.

“I think you wanted me from the first time you saw me,” he continued, his voice now slow, deliberate. “Just like I did with you.”

There was something about hearing him like this - his voice over the phone somehow deeper, rougher - intimate in a way that felt even closer than being in the same room. It sent a ripple across your skin, a shiver you didn’t even try to suppress.

“Do you miss me?” he murmured.

“I do,” you whispered. “Very much.”

“What do you miss?”

You hesitated, then said quietly, “Having you close to me.”

“Yeah?” His tone was teasing, coaxing. “And what else?”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, low and knowing. “Where exactly are you trying to take this conversation, Mangione?”

“Just curious…” he drawled, “if you miss having sex with me as much as I’ve been missing having sex with you.”

His voice wrapped around you, and your breath caught. The ache in your chest dropped lower, heat unfurling in your stomach. His voice was tangling its way into your ear and sending spikes of arousal down your spine.

“Mhm…” You let the sound linger in your throat. “I do.”

There was a pause - a charged silence that stretched between you, electric and heavy, even across the distance of the phone line.

“You’re like, without competition… the best sex I’ve ever had in my life,” you said slowly, voice low. “The problem is just that the sex is so fucking good I get horny every time I think about it.”

He gave a low, satisfied chuckle, the kind that made your skin prickle.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, baby.”

You couldn’t help the soft giggle that escaped you. You loved hearing him get turned on - that shift in him, the way his voice dropped. It made your pulse flutter.

“I can’t wait to be inside of you again,” his voice was low, rough, barely a whisper against your ear. “That feeling when I push myself inside of you, when I feel how tight you are around me, that first thrust. It’s just… fuck.” He groaned.

His words poured over you like warm honey, thick and slow. His dark, raspy voice close to your ear, the memories of his hands on your body, flashbacks of his dick moving inside of you.

You could hear the restraint in his voice, the tension that curled just beneath it. That familiar heat stirred in your belly, blooming outward in slow, deliberate waves.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself fall into it - the image of him, the weight of him above you, the way his hands always knew exactly where to go, what to do, how to unravel you completely.

Without thinking, your hand drifted beneath the hem of your pajama pants, down between your legs - your fingers moving in instinctive, featherlight circles. His voice was the rhythm. Your breath caught, and you bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, to contain the way your body was already reacting to the imaginary touch of him.

“You know what… fuck,” he said, exhaling a quiet laugh, “your dad’s in the next room. This feels kind of insane. I shouldn’t even be talking like this. I don’t feel comfortable to lie here with a hard dick with him on the other side of the wall.”

“That’s too bad,” you murmured, your voice thick with need. “Because I’m already touching myself to the sound of your voice.”

A groan rumbled through the phone, and it sent another rush of heat through you.

“Liv… Shit.”

Just hearing your name in that voice - deep, husky, laced with want - made you arch slightly into your own touch.

“Are you actually touching yourself right now?” he asked, breathless.

“I am,” you whispered. “I’m so wet. I’m close just thinking about your dick right now. How big it feels inside of me when you fuck me.”

He swore under his breath, a sound equal parts awe and agony. “You don’t understand how hard I am right now.”

You could picture it - his head tipped back against the pillow, his dark curls tousled, soft lips slightly parted. His body drawn tight with restraint, wanting. The slow rise and fall of his chest, each breath more uneven than the last, like he was trying to hold something back but couldn’t.

His abs flexing beneath his skin, impossibly warm and smooth. You could almost feel the weight of his hands, the press of his palms against your hips, the way he always whispers your name.

It made your whole body ache with the longing to close the distance between you – and your fingers kept moving, now with even more purpose.

“This is torture,” he murmured with a rough laugh.

“Just keep talking to me,” you said softly. “I want to hear your voice when I touch myself.”

He was quiet for a moment, and then his voice dropped even lower. “Are you moving your fingers the same way that I touch you? Slow… just how you like it?”

Your breath hitched. “Mhm.”

“Do you remember how I do it? Starting with just one finger, barely touching you at first. Just to see how ready you are. How much you need me. How wet you are, how deep I can go.”

Your whole body tensed up as you let a finger slide inside, right between your soaked folds. Slowly - just the way he did it.

“Yeah, I remember.” You could barely get your words out, and you moved your finger softly inside of yourself as he kept talking.

You swallowed hard, a flush rising in your cheeks. The memory of his touch was so vivid it felt almost real. His voice was all around you now.

“I love to move my finger in and out of you like that, really slow… so that my hand get all wet.”

You let out a short whimper at his words.

“And then… I let another finger inside,” he continued, “I go even deeper. Can you do that for me?”

You just moaned in response, as you pushed in another finger, feeling the delicious stretch.

“You always feel so tight on my fingers when I do it like that. It’s so fucking hot when I can feel you tighten around me when you’re close to coming. Can you feel that?”

Your body tightened at the thought, every nerve tuned to his voice and the way it made you feel - like he was right there, not miles away, not separated by an ocean or a phone line.

“I miss that,” you breathed. “I miss you.”

“And I miss you,” he whispered. “Every part of me wishes I was there with your right now. Naked in your bed – with your legs over my shoulders, my dick deep inside of you, hearing you moan my name.”

For a moment, a silence stretched between you - not empty, but thick with electricity of closeness despite the distance.

Your breathing grew shallow, uneven, as your fingers moved in a steady rhythm, your body answering to the memory of him. You pressed your palm down slightly, intensifying the pressure against your clit, chasing the edge that was slowly building inside of you.

“I can hear it,” he murmured, voice low and rough, thick with want. “You’re close, sweetheart. I know what that sounds like. I know your breathing when you’re right there.”

You let out a soft sound in response - half a hum, half a moan - unable to form real words, too far gone already.

“Can you try doing it just like I do,” he continued, coaxing, his tone the kind of gentle command that made your stomach tighten. “When I know you’re close and I slow everything down, remember? When I go really deep and slow… then almost pull out completely, just to hear you gasp.”

You followed him instinctively, adjusting your rhythm, body trembling with anticipation. He always knew exactly what you needed - even from afar.

“You’re doing so good, baby” he said, voice thick with pride and desire. “I can hear that you’re doing exactly what I told you to. You’re right there, aren’t you? Do you want to come for me?”

You could only nod, even though he couldn’t see. Your whole body was a live wire, strung tight, every muscle taut.

“Let go for me,” he whispered. “ Let me hear you come baby.”

And that was all it took.

The orgasm crashed over you in a sudden, consuming wave, your body shuddering as his name tumbled from your lips in a breathless cry. For a moment, the world disappeared - just the sound of your pulse in your ears, his voice still there while you felt yourself spasm around your own fingers.

“Fuck…” He exhaled in your ear through the phone, the sound low and intimate. “You sound so fucking perfect when you come like that, princess.”

…

A few hours later, as the golden haze of New York’s evening gave way to the deeper hues of night, Luigi and Marc found themselves at their third stop of the night - the rooftop bar at The Manner.

It was one of those quintessential Manhattan scenes - the skyline stretching endlessly around them, warm air buzzing with conversation and music, the kind of setting that made the city feel almost cinematic.

The rooftop was packed - laughter ringing out over the steady pulse of house music, groups clustered on low-slung couches, and the sharp scent of cocktails mingling with expensive perfume.

Marc was fully in his element. Leaning back against the cushions with a drink in hand, he held court among a group of his tennis club friends, whom he had summoned with a few quick texts in the cab between dinner and drinks. Now they were gathered around, voices rising above the music in competitive bursts of wit and laughter.

Even more people trickled in as the hours passed - friends of friends and strangers quickly becoming drinking companions, the way it only happens on humid summer nights when time feels suspended and tomorrow doesn’t quite exist.

Luigi, however, was starting to feel the effects of trying to match Marc round for round. His vision had begun to blur at the edges, and his temples pulsed faintly in time with the beat thumping from the DJ booth. Keeping up with Marc on a night out was not the easiest of tasks.

He leaned in close, placing a steadying hand on Marc’s shoulder.

“I’m just going to grab a sparkling water,” he said, his voice low but firm.

Marc turned to him with a broad smile. “You sure you’re okay going by yourself? I don’t want to have to rescue you from another bachelorette party.”

Luigi laughed, giving a dismissive wave. “I’ll be fine. Thanks though.”

He made his way through the sea of warm bodies toward the bar, aware of eyes following him.

It was something he would have to learn to live with - the subtle hum of recognition that seemed to follow him into any public space since the trial. A glance, then a second glance. People leaning in to whisper to each other, and the way he could almost see the moment it clicked in their minds – when they realized where they had seen him before.

He reached the bar, braced a forearm against the polished counter, and caught the bartender’s eye with a smile. “Can I please get a sparkling water? Lemon if you have it. Thanks, appreciate it.”

As he waited, scanning the rooftop, eyes distant, thoughts drifting - a voice caught him off guard.

“You’re Luigi, right? Mangione?”

He flinched slightly. The voice was close, unexpected. He turned.

A woman had appeared beside him - tall, elegant, and striking in that unmistakably polished, New York kind of way. Her long, dark hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and her sleeveless black mini dress clung to her figure, accentuating her long legs.

She was poised, radiant, her confidence practiced but not unnatural.

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” she said, with a soft, melodic giggle. “I’m here with some friends.” She gestured with a flick of her wrist toward a table across the rooftop where a cluster of equally stylish women sat, all mid-laughter and cocktails.

“I saw you from over there and… I just had to come say something.”

Luigi offered a polite smile, already sensing where this might be going. This wasn’t the first time he had been approached tonight.

“This is a little embarrassing,” she continued, “but I’ve followed your case since last December. And I just wanted to say… I think you’re incredible. What you’ve been through? How you handled everything? It’s… Well, it’s inspiring.”

“Ah,” Luigi chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

She dropped her gaze, fiddling absently with the delicate chain of her purse.

Then she looked up again, eyes glinting.

“I was actually at UPenn the same time as you,” she said then, almost casually. “I was a year below.”

Luigi paused, tilting his head slightly as he studied her more closely, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. He scanned her features - searching for even a flicker of recognition.

“You were?” he asked, the skepticism in his voice softened by genuine interest.

She smiled, the corners of her lips curving with quiet satisfaction - a subtle, knowing expression that said she was used to holding attention once she had it.

“Would you mind if I bought you a drink?” she asked, her voice just a touch lower now. “They make a killer Martini di Amalfi here.”

Chapter Text

Luigi paused for a moment, letting her offer hang in the air, her smile lingering, a glimmer of playful challenge in her eyes as she searched his face for any sign of interest.

He cleared his throat, a subtle shift in posture - hesitant.

“Thank you,” he said, polite but firm, nodding toward the glass just placed in front of him by the bartender. “That’s nice of you, but I’m sticking to water for the rest of the night.”

Her smile faltered, just for a breath. The faintest flicker of surprise crossing her face - but she recovered quickly, tossing her long, shiny hair back with an effortless shrug.

“Oh, okay,” she said, regaining her footing. Her confidence reassembled itself in a heartbeat.

“Well, maybe you’d still like to come over to our table for a bit?” she offered, gesturing towards her group of friends seated by two low couches facing each other just a few feet away – right beneath a string of warm, amber lights. “There’s a few of us from UPenn here tonight actually - we might even have mutual friends.”

She paused and gave him a teasing smile. “You can bring your water.”

Luigi hesitated. His thoughts was a bit blurry, the alcohol dulling the sharper edges of his judgment. He blinked once, slowly – trying to make a quick evaluation of the situation at hand. Of her.

From what he could tell, nothing about her seemed threatening. She just seemed sociable – friendly even? Maybe a bit persistent, but nothing that bothered him too much.

He shifted his weight, glanced over toward the table across the bar where Marc was still very much living his best life -  gesturing wildly halfway through another one of his endless stories with a cocktail in one hand, the other clutching his chest in mock outrage.

He was nowhere near done. Luigi could easily slip back in five minutes from now and Marc wouldn’t have noticed he’d left.

He’d rejoin them in just a moment. No harm in being polite and talk to some new, friendly people – what’s the worst thing that could happen?

She seemed to sense the shift in his indecision - the tiny tilt of his body in her direction. A smile bloomed on her face, quick and hopeful, like she’d just watched a door click open.

“Okay,” he said at last. “Just for a minute - I really need to get back to my table soon.”

Her face lit up, bright and triumphant.

“Of course,” she said quickly. “I won’t keep you long. I’m Molly, by the way.”

She extended a hand toward him, her smile widening. “I got so excited to see you, I completely forgot to introduce myself properly.”

Luigi took her hand without thinking, her fingers cool and deliberate against his.

“Molly,” he echoed, mostly just to say something. Her grip lingered for a second too long before she finally let go.

Luigi offered a small smile in return as she turned, weaving through the crowd toward her table. He followed a step behind, his expression neutral.

The table was lively, a constellation of women in animated conversation, their laughter rising above the hum of music and clinking glasses. As Luigi approached, a small cheer rippled through the group, a mix of surprise and amusement. Eyes turned his way.

Molly laughed, the sound ringing out as effortlessly as everything else about her.

“Oh my God, Luigi!” one of the women gasped, clutching her chest with theatrical flair, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.

“I knew it was him!” another chimed in, flashing him a wide, friendly smile.

Molly turned to him, eyes dancing. “See? I’m not your only fan in this group,” she said, her voice low and warm.

Luigi offered another small, uncertain smile. He wasn’t quite sure whether to feel flattered or faintly embarrassed by the attention - but he kept his composure, trying to appear as unbothered as possible.

“Sit down!” one of the girls called out, laughing as she reached for his wrist and tugged him gently downward. Her grip was playful but insistent, and before he could object, Luigi found himself easing into the cushions of the low, overstuffed couch.

“Alright, alright,” he said with a grin. “But just for a little while.”

The table was a chaos of movement and noise - drinks clinking, and bursts of laughter echoing over the ever-intensifying house music. Arms were suddenly draped casually over his shoulders, hands were tapping his knee - someone already snapping a photo before he could protest. A few of the girls had climbed to their feet, dancing by the table, their silhouettes outlined in the soft glow of the string lights overhead.

It was intense, but it was also... warm. Welcoming. The kind of infectious energy that made it easy to lean in rather than pull away.

Luigi found himself talking with Molly and another girl from UPenn who, by pure coincidence, was also a Computer Science major. They fell into easy conversation, and within minutes they were all laughing over a shared memory - a party during Senior Week that, as it turned out, they had all attended.

Memories of cheap beer and vodka shots, plastic cups and dancing on kitchen counters was shared, and the infamous moment when a straight-A student passed out on the roof, prompting a near panic and an eventual call to campus security.

Luigi laughed, genuinely amused, shaking his head as he leaned back in his seat. “I can’t believe we were all at the same party and now just… meeting like this. Randomly. In New York.”

“Timing is everything,” Molly said, lifting her glass with a knowing smile and a wink. The low lights of the rooftop flickered against the rim of her glass as she tipped it toward him, her eyes holding his just a second too long.

The moment felt effortless - light, unburdened by anything heavier than nostalgia. Luigi decided to enjoy it.

Not out of obligation or politeness, but because something in him needed it.

The company of people his own age, people who remembered the same professors, who had danced to the same terrible songs at frat parties.

As much as he deeply cherished his time in Italy - the long afternoons, the warmth of your family, the way the world had briefly seemed to pause - he knew, deep down, that it had been a kind of sanctuary. Beautiful, yes. Healing, absolutely. But also very much sealed off, protected. A world suspended – not fully real.

But this - this felt like a real life returning in pieces, like fragments of something familiar clicking softly back into place. Laughter shared with strangers. The pulse of the city alive beneath his skin.

And sitting there, drink in hand, laughter still curling in his chest, Luigi felt something shift. Something open.

His heart swelled with a quiet, aching certainty. He was ready. Not just to be back in New York - but to rebuild something he lost a long time ago. A life. A rhythm.

Mornings with coffee and soft, slow starts, cuddling with you in bed. Evenings in dim restaurant light and friends’ voices rising around him. Weeknights threaded with quiet routines. And weekends that might end exactly like this - unexpected, warm, tinged with laughter and the easy chaos of spontaneity.

A life with you in it.

You, at the center of it all. You, the gravity everything else could gently orbit around.

And for the first time, he let himself see it. Not just as a dream, but as something possible. Something real.

The urge to call you hit him so suddenly it nearly knocked the air from his lungs. He wanted to tell you everything. Not just about the strange coincidence of meeting fellow UPenn alums - but about this feeling. About the way hope had snuck back in, like sunlight through half-drawn blinds - somewhere between drinks, laughter with strangers and old memories from Senior Week.

He felt, for the first time in a long time, like maybe – just maybe - he was coming back to himself. Coming back to himself and the real possibility of building a life here.

A rich and full life. Normal, even. Beautiful in all its normalcy.

Suddenly, his thoughts were yanked to a halt by an unexpected touch.

A hand, light but deliberate, settled on his thigh. Fingers drifting, just slightly, to the inside of it. Confident.

He flinched at the touch, instinctively pulling his leg back, his body reacting before his mind caught up. He turned, startled, and met Molly’s gaze.

Her expression had shifted - subtly but unmistakably. Gone was the breezy warmth from earlier, replaced by something quieter, more deliberate. Her eyes held his, charged now with a different kind of intent.

“I know this is insane…” she said, her voice suddenly low. The chaos of the table around them carried on - laughter, music, the clink of ice in glasses - but she was focused on only him, voice now whispering. “But I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t shoot my shot.”

She gave a soft, breathless laugh, her gaze dropping for a moment. Then she looked up at him again, this time through her lashes.

“My place is just a few blocks from here,” she murmured. “We could grab an Uber, head back for a bit. You’d be back before anyone even noticed you were gone.”

Luigi stared at her, caught off guard. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

She leaned in just a fraction closer, her voice now almost a whisper. “I’ll make it memorable. Really memorable. I promise.”

For a moment, everything seemed to still around him – and in his own head. The noise dimmed, the colors of the surroundings faded to a blur, and he sat frozen in the intensity of her offer.

This was unfamiliar territory for him. He’d had casual sex before, sure - but it had never been this effortless. He had been approached by women, but there had always been a certain amount of intention required on his part too -  the flirtation, the reading of signals, the quiet calculation of when to lean in, what to say, how to keep the momentum just right.

But this? Being offered sex so openly, so easily - that was new. Entirely new. There was no game to decipher, no coded language. Just an invitation, smooth and unapologetic, served to him without pretense.

The look in her eyes - intimate, hungry - cut through the haze of alcohol like cold water. Then suddenly, the room sharpened around him again. The warmth, the laughter, the dancing - all of it faded beneath a rising wave of discomfort.

What the hell was he thinking – why was he even sitting here. He suddenly felt foolish. Stupid, even.

He drew in a breath, steadying himself, then turned to her with a smile - gentle, measured – but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It was really kind of you to come up to me at the bar,” he said, his voice gentle - but there was a quiet firmness beneath the surface, the unmistakable finality of a door closing. “But I should be getting back to my father-in-law now.”

Molly blinked. The words landed, unmistakably clear.

She met his gaze a moment longer, her eyes scanning for any sign of a crack - some invitation to linger, to protest. But there was nothing. Just that steady, composed kindness.

At last, she gave a small nod, her practiced grace wavering at the edges. The corners of her mouth lifted into a half-smile.

A pause stretched between them.

“You have a good night, Molly,” Luigi said, his voice lower now, almost a murmur. “Enjoy the rest of it.”

And with that, he rose from his seat without waiting for a reply.

He turned and threaded his way back through the crowd, drawn toward the sound of boisterous laughter echoing from across the rooftop - the unmistakable cheer of Marc and his friends. It was a gravitational pull of belonging. A familiar place was waiting for him there – alive and warm.

As he approached, Marc caught sight of him and broke into a grin.

“There you are! Thought we might’ve lost you for a second.” He patted Luigi on the back. “Come here, we have some new friends at the table. Hasan’s here!”

Luigi's eyes flicked to the tall man rising to his feet just a few steps away.

He recognized him immediately from the streaming clips you’d shown him - Hasan, the social media personality you’d spoken so highly of, the one who had been vocal in his support ever since the arrest. Luigi knew that he had been in contact with both Karen and Marc for a while now, wanting to do an interview.

A wide smile spread across Hasan’s face as he turned toward Luigi. He was taller in person, radiating warmth and an easy charisma that filled the space around him. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and extended his hand.

“Good to see you, man. Finally,” he said, his deep voice thick with feeling. “Shit, I’m honestly choking up a little. It’s so fucking amazing to see you free.”

…

You’d been awake for a while, the early morning quiet curling around you, when your phone vibrated gently on the nightstand.

You slipped your bookmark between the pages of the book you'd been reading and set it aside, reaching for your phone. A smile spread across your face the moment you saw the name glowing on the screen.

Luigi Nicholas.

His name was just still so pretty to you - it made your chest tighten, no matter how many times you saw it.

“Hey, baby,” you said softly, your voice warm with affection as you answered the call.

“Hey, my sweet, beautiful, perfect princess,” he slurred back.

You laughed. He was wasted. Glancing quickly at the time on your screen, you did the math. It was 9 a.m. here. That meant it was just past 3 a.m. in New York.

“Just now getting home?” you asked, teasing. “Sounds like it turned into more than just a dinner.”

“That’s absolutely correct,” he murmured, amusement lacing his words. “Your dad is… insane.”

You chuckled, warmth blooming in your chest. “Are you both home safe at least?”

“Yeah… just walked in. I can already hear him snoring through the wall,” he added with a quiet laugh.

“Well then, you should go to bed too, baby. Even though I really do appreciate that I’m still on your mind. Especially in your current… state.”

“Don’t you know I think about you always?” he replied, his voice growing heavy with sleep.

“You sound like you’re about to pass out,” you said with another soft laugh.

“I might be,” he murmured, his words heavy. There was a pause, barely a breath, before he added, “But… can you just… lay beside me? Like… just stay on the line while I fall asleep? I wanna hear your voice.”

Your heart swelled at his words. That he wanted your voice - your presence - to ease him into sleep made something inside of you ache. It struck something deep inside you - that he wanted you to be the last sound he heard before sleep claimed him felt like the most intimate kind of closeness.

A sense of intense longing surged up so suddenly that you pressed a hand to your chest, trying to contain it.

This is all you had ever wanted to be for him. A place of rest. Of calm. His sense of safety.

“Of course I can, baby,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You listened as he shifted around, the muffled rustle of blankets filling your ear until it quieted again.

“Did you at least have a good time tonight?” you asked gently, not wanting to disturb his drowsy state.

“We had a great time… ended up at the rooftop bar at The Manner.”

You smiled at the mention of one of your favorite New York places to hang out. “Oh, that’s nice. Their cocktails are dangerous though – which I’m sure you’ve realized by now.”

“They were… a little too good,” he admitted with a sleepy chuckle. “Hasan came by too.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. “Really? How did he know you were there? I thought you didn’t have time to meet up. I know he’s been persistent, but you had such a busy schedule already.”

“One of his friends spotted us there so he texted your dad. And, well… you know your dad. The more, the merrier, especially after a few drinks. Everyone’s invited when he gets going.”

You laughed again. This was very on brand for your dad - friendly to a fault, ready to turn every acquaintance into a bestie over a couple of drinks.

“I’m still on the fence about the interview he wants to do,” Luigi continued, voice growing slower with each word. “But we hit it off. He’s a cool guy. We’ve got more in common than I thought. Talked about meeting up again when we’re back in August.”

“I’m glad,” you said. “He’s always been so vocal in supporting you. From the beginning. I like him a lot.”

Luigi chuckled again, quieter this time, like he was just remembering something funny.

“It was nice having him around. Took some of the spotlight off me. He had more women swarming him than I did, I’ll tell you that much.”

Something tightened unexpectedly in your chest - a small, sharp constriction that caught you off guard. It flared up fast and hot, before you had the chance to push it aside. A flicker of something very close to jealousy. Uninvited, irrational - but undeniable.

“So there were a lot of women there, huh?” you said lightly, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“Just a few…” he mumbled, voice drifting again. “But I think I handled it pretty well.”

Your heart began to beat faster.

“Okay? Wanna share any details on how you handled it?” you asked, still trying to sound casual.

Silence.

“Luigi baby?”

Was he sleeping?

Then you could hear it - the steady, rhythmic sound of his breathing, deep and even. A faint, endearing snore filtered through the speaker, unmistakable in its peace.

You smiled to yourself, affection blooming low and warm in your chest. A tinge of amusement curled at the edges - it was almost absurd how much comfort you could take from the simple sound of him sleeping.

You’d have to wait for a few hours until you could call him again and get some more details on his and your dad’s big night out. You were sure they had handled it well, you were just… curious.

It’s not like you didn’t trust him. It’s not that you needed control.

You just wanted to make sure. Make sure that he understood the weight of the gaze now fixed on him. That he knew how to navigate the tidal wave of attention that would follow him everywhere now.

Now that he was out, he had to face it. All of it. Head-on. Whether he was ready for it or not.

…

As you came down the stairs and made your way into the kitchen, a warm, buttery scent wrapped around you. Rounding the corner, you spotted Celine crouched by the oven, sliding out a tray with practiced ease. A soft clatter followed as she set a plate of golden scones on the counter.

“Good morning,” she said brightly, turning toward you with a satisfied gleam in her eye. “You’re just in time. I made scones.”

You raised an eyebrow, already smirking as you crossed the room. “Look at you, domestic queen. What’s the occasion? Trying to butter Ben up for something?”

Celine let out a dramatic scoff, flicking a tea towel over her shoulder. “Please. I don’t need to bribe him with baking to get my way. Put some respect on my name, seriously.”

You laughed softly and took a seat at the marble-topped island, exhaling deeply as you allowed the rich scent of butter and vanilla to fully settle around you. “Well, whatever your motives, it smells incredible. Honestly, exactly what I needed.”

She turned back to the counter, returning moments later with a tray arranged with glass bowls filled with whipped cream, clotted cream, raspberry jam, lemon curd, and a colorful mix of sliced fruit and berries. Without asking, she poured two mugs of coffee and handed one to you before settling into the seat beside yours.

“So,” she said, turning slightly toward you, “how are you holding up? Only one more day to go until your Italian stallion is back. Is the sexual frustration manageable so far?” Her expression was pure mischief, eyes glinting over the rim of her mug.

You grinned, reaching for a still-warm scone and grabbed a knife to cut it open. “Honestly?” you said as you spread on a generous amount of clotted cream. You glanced around quickly to make sure no one else was listening and leaned in just a touch. “We actually had phone sex last night.”

Celine let out an undignified choke mid-sip, nearly spitting her coffee onto the table before bursting into laughter. “Oh my God, are we bringing that back now? Desperate times, I guess...” she said, grinning as she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “Was it any good?”

You gave a small, satisfied nod as you took a bite of the scone, eyes gleaming. “Hotter than I expected, actually,” you said as you chewed. “A lot hotter.”

Celine groaned. “Ben would never. I don’t think he has the attention span for it. I swear, halfway through, he'd probably start thinking about some email he forgot to answer, or whether or not he should make himself a sweet treat afterwards.” She rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Luigi though... he seems more of the thorough type. Very focused.” She gave you a teasing smile. ”So, who did most of the talking? Was it you or Mr. Yappione? My money’s on him for sure.”

You laughed, nearly dropping your scone. “He’s… let’s just say, very articulate when he wants to be.”

Suddenly your phone buzzed loudly on the counter beside you, rattling against the marble. You leaned over to check it, still half-smiling.

“Ooh, is that Luigi calling for round two?” she teased, nudging your arm playfully.

“Stop,” you said with a laugh, giving her a light slap on the shoulder.

But it wasn’t Luigi. The screen lit up with notifications from one of your group chats - the one with your closest girlfriends. Three new messages. You stared at them for a beat, your amusement dimming just slightly as curiosity took over.

Hannah: Who’s this girl? Someone you know?

Jade: Just saw that too… got a weird vibe.

You stared at the messages blinking on your screen, heart giving an involuntary stutter.

Hannah had shared a link underneath her message in the chat. A TikTok link. You tapped it, thumb hesitating for a split second before the video launched.

Daddys Home by Usher started playing as the screen flickered to life with chaotic flashes of a Manhattan night out - strobes, cocktails raised mid-laugh, silhouettes in little black dresses, hips swaying, cameras panning. And there, unmistakably in the middle of it all, was Luigi.

Your stomach dropped.

He was clearly drunk - very drunk. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his curls a little messier than usual, his cheeks flushed.

In one shot, he leaned in close to a girl - tall, dark hair, eyes straight into the camera - and whispered something into her ear. Whatever he said made her throw her head back laughing, her hand resting briefly on his chest.

The caption read: “POV: having drinks with THE Luigi Mangione 🥂✨”

You blinked at the screen, the words blurring a little as you tried to process what you were seeing. For a moment, you just stared. The room around you went quiet, your thoughts scrambling to catch up. You told yourself it was nothing. Harmless. Just a video. Just a night out. He already told you some of it when he called.

You tapped on the username: @MollyMoe.

Her profile popped up in an instant - a curated selection of nights outs at various New York hotspots, Pilates and Starbucks runs, designer bags and expensive jewelry. 25k followers. A classic rich girl reinvented as an influencer – you knew a few of those.

You scrolled back to the video. It was already pushing 180k views and climbing by the second.

You quickly went to the comments, your pulse thrumming in your ears as your eyes darted across the screen.

@Salma Where’s his girlfriend 🚩

@ShaunaKay Omg fuck boy alert

@Julieee He looks out of it lmfao

@mangobby Enjoying his freedom I see 👀

@BrittanyElizabeth Can someone tag his girlfriend?

@balishirtlover Is he back in NY? I need to see him!

@MagZ Omg I was there just an hour earlier

@Klaudia If he’s cheating on his girlfriend istg

@WinnieP Does his girlfriend know??????

@emmie Molly getting that PhD iktr 🥵

@missmee His girlfriend is stronger than me bc whaaaat

@MrsPhD Wasn’t he with Karen’s daughter like yesterday? I’m getting whiplash 

Your jaw clenched. You could hear the blood in your ears.

With a sharp breath through your nose, you switched back to your group chat.

You: No idea who this is

Emma: No? Who was Luigi even out with?

You: My dad

Jade: Lmfao

Stella: Marc is such a legend

Emma: But why would he take him out drinking, he should know better lol

Abi: Did you talk to him

You: He called when he got home, he was shitfaced

Jade: Could tell from that video… sry

Stella: Omg does he know Hasan?? Hook me uuuuup

Before you could even process it, another TikTok link was shared in the chat - this time by Stella.

You hesitated for half a second, thumb hovering over the preview, then tapped.

A new video filled your screen. This one was rougher, shakier - filmed from farther away, probably by another guest at the rooftop bar a few tables away. Kevo Jefé blasted from your phone.

Ain′t nothin' badder than a bad bitch

With a baddie friend, with a baddie friend

I love seein′ two bad bitches

Two bad bitches, two bad bitches be friends

The music was synced to a fast-cut montage of short video clips and photos of Luigi, Hasan Piker and… yes, your dad.

In one, Hasan stood on a low table, arms raised in a double-toast, a drink in each hand. He was practically vibrating with energy, wild-eyed and grinning. The next cut caught Luigi mid-laugh, his head flung back, the edges of his joy blurred by motion. Then - your dad, of all people - tackling Luigi onto a couch in a half-wrestle, both of them shouting and laughing like frat boys at a house party.

And then, Hasan and Luigi back at the bar, both of them swaying slightly. For some reason, Hasan was absentmindedly and affectionally running his fingers through Luigi’s curls while sipping a cocktail, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. If they hadn’t looked so out of it, you might’ve called it cute.

Again, you made it to the comment section.

@baebae They’re both so fucking hot I can’t take it

@liza Is this for real? 💀

@mrspiker I’m feral right now

@themadelyn Wait what??????

@mimi: what is Luigi DOING lmao is he okay???

@luluuu I can’t even decide which one I want more 🥵

You stared at the screen. You didn’t know what to think – right now you were just in sheer disbelief at how quickly your dad and Luigi had turned a quiet dinner into a public spectacle.

It was… impressive, in a way. Almost admirable. If it wasn't so fucking stupid.

There were so many layers to this that rubbed you the wrong way. First of all, if this was Luigi handling female attention ”pretty well”, then clearly the two of you had radically different definitions.

And your dad - of all people - should’ve known better.

Luigi’s name was still bouncing around the news cycle, still fragile in the public eye. Anything he did, especially in a setting this loud and this visible, could and would be twisted. And your dad should’ve known that. Should’ve been the adult in the room.

It actually blew your mind how he could have this bad of a judgement.

Instead of staying low key, they’d gone completely off the rails. Unhinged, even. In front of a whole rooftop bar with camera phones. Everyone had seen it.

It wasn’t a good look. And it unsettled you more than you wanted to admit.

What the fuck were they thinking?

You tried to sift through the tangle of emotions in your chest. Was it jealousy that made your thoughts spiral? Probably, at least in part - even if you didn’t like to admit it. Seeing women throw themselves at Luigi wasn’t pleasant - but you trusted him. You knew what you were to each other.

Still… that didn’t mean you enjoyed being publicly embarrassed. Having people in TikTok comment sections worrying about you having a walking red flag as a boyfriend was not it.

It was the spectacle of it, more than anything. Everyone reposting, commenting. And there was Luigi, so easily folded into the chaos, letting it wash over him like none of it mattered. Like he’d forgotten what it cost to be seen like that. Like people hadn’t been dissecting his face, his history, his body language for years now – always searching for cracks.

It felt reckless. Naïve. Maybe even a little selfish.

And your dad? God. He wasn’t supposed to be part of the noise. He was supposed to know better. He did know better.

You stood abruptly, pacing the length of the living room, your phone still clenched in your hand.

Celine looked up, concern flickering across her face. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

You didn’t answer right away. You weren’t even sure what the right answer was.

How did you explain this knot of embarrassment and frustration and secondhand panic without sounding possessive or dramatic?

And then there was your mom.

Fuck. Your mom. She would crash out when she saw this.

You drew a breath, slow and deliberate, willing yourself to calm down.

You hated feeling like this. You didn’t want to control him.

You loved that he was letting himself feel joy again, it wasn’t about having a good time. It really wasn’t.

But there was a difference between freedom and foolishness. And right now, you couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d wandered across that line and just kept going - drunk on attention, or whatever else they’d been drinking at that rooftop bar.

You shut your eyes.

You didn’t feel that you were overreacting. Just reacting.

Chapter Text

You set your phone down on the counter, dropped back onto the stool, and exhaled a long, heavy sigh.

“Okay, seriously,” Celine said around a mouthful of scone, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

You let out a dry laugh, humorless. “I’m honestly exhausted just thinking about explaining it.”

Celine perked up, instantly intrigued. “What?”

You rubbed a hand across your forehead. “Well, dad and Luigi got shitfaced drunk and made fools out of themselves last night. And of course, people took pictures and videos and now it’s everywhere.”

Celine blinked. “Shut up. I thought they just went to dinner?”

“They did,” you said, voice flat. “But then they went to The Manner after. Ran into some of dad’s friends, met up with Hasan of all people too - just to add some more attention to themselves that they didn’t need.” You let out a sigh.

“Then Luigi apparently got approached by people - supporters or random girls or whatever. And like… that part’s fine.”

You exhaled sharply, the weight of it coiled tight in your chest. “But now there’s this girl posting TikToks, some aspiring influencer. Acting like she was out partying with Luigi…. touching him, looking all cozy. The comment section is going crazy of course. And it just… it doesn’t look good.”

Celine swallowed, brushed the crumbs from her mouth with the back of her hand, and reached for your phone. “Let me see.”

You hesitated a second, then reopened the TikTok from Molly - and handed it over.

Celine watched in silence, the music filling the room again, her brows gradually drawing together.

“Oh, Luigi, honey… what are you doing?” She shook her head.

“Right?” you said quickly. “I’m not overreacting?”

“How can someone so smart be so completely oblivious?” she muttered.

“Hang on, there’s more,” you said, swiping the screen and opening the second clip - the one with Hasan and your dad, behaving like a wild animal. “Look at this.”

Celine took the phone again, stared, then immediately slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. Her shoulders shook.

“Oh my God. Dad… what the fuck. This is not a private tennis club party. Does he not understand that he’s in fucking public?” She glanced at you. “Mom’s gonna go insane. And Ben is going to be so pissed he missed this.”

“I’m legit scared to show her,” you mumbled.

Celine stood immediately, smoothing the front of her dress with a sudden and serious look on her face. “Leave this to me, I got you.”

She gave you a solemn nod before walking down the hall toward the study. “Hey, mom?” she called, knocking once before slipping inside and shutting the door behind her.

The silence didn’t last long.

Raised voices followed almost immediately, overlapping and heated - you couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but it didn’t sound promising. Then suddenly, it went quiet.

A moment later, the door opened again.

Your mom emerged first, her face unreadable, empty coffee cup in hand. Celine trailed behind, eyes wide with contained laughter, biting her bottom lip.

Your mom strode straight to the coffee machine, poured herself a full cup in silence, then leaned back against the counter with a long breath.

“I’m trying to stay calm,” she said, very evenly. ”I really am.”

You looked at her, unsure if you should speak.

“But they had one day left,” she continued, staring blankly into the air. “Luigi and your dad had one more day of keeping it together. But no - they managed to fuck it up. Completely.”

“I don’t know…” Celine began carefully, her tone walking the line between amused and cautious. “I feel like dad might’ve been the instigator here. Remember how he wouldn’t shut up about how this trip was supposed to be fun, and not just work. This might actually be what he had in mind all along?”

“Oh, absolutely,” your mom cut in, voice clipped. “This has your father written all over it. I don’t even need to see the footage again to know that.”

She crossed her arms, the coffee cup still nestled in her hand. “Of course he instigated this. But Luigi’s a grown man. I know I baby him a lot, but seriously – he should’ve known better too.”

Her eyes locked on yours. “You need to talk to him, Liv. I’ll deal with my husband - if you deal with your boyfriend.”

You slumped slightly in your seat, dragging a hand down your face. “We’ll have to wait a few more hours before we can call them…” you mumbled, your voice muffled by your palm. “They’re probably still asleep. Or more likely passed out.”

Your mom took a slow sip of her coffee, then nodded with a crisp finality. “Fine. But when he wakes up - you call Luigi first. Hear what he has to say. Then we’re calling both of them together. I want an explanation.”

Suddenly, there was a loud thud followed by a chaotic series of tumbling footsteps from the stairs.

Ben all but launched himself down into the kitchen, his hair sticking up in every direction from sleep, the belt of his robe trailing behind him as though he’d just thrown it on mid-sprint.

“Oh my fucking god - did you see this?” he shouted, eyes wide. He held up his phone, the TikTok of Luigi, Hasan, and your dad playing on loop.

“Their night out last night was fucking lit. Like actually lit. I can’t believe I wasn’t there! This is the last time I ever opt out of anything that involves Luigi, your dad, and alcohol. I swear to God – I fucking refuse to miss another night like that ever again.”

He was breathless, caught in electric excitement.

Your mom just stared at him over the rim of her coffee cup, unmoving.

Ben paused, eyes darting between you, Celine, and the rigid set of your mother’s jaw. He finally noticed the shift in the room’s energy, the tension humming beneath the surface.

”What?” he said, blinking. “Didn’t you think it looked fun?”

Your mom closed her eyes briefly and then set the mug down on the counter a little harder than necessary.

“Ben,” she started, her tone deceptively calm. Then she stopped herself. She stared at him, then just shook her head, defeated. “I can’t with you right now.”

Ben opened his mouth, but Celine caught his arm.

“Nope. Not today,” she whispered urgently, dragging him toward the patio. “Just come with me. Before she snaps and starts yelling at you too.”

As they disappeared outside, you let out a slow, exhausted breath and looked toward your mom, who was now staring off into the distance.

“I will give them three more hours, then we’re waking them up.”

…

A few hours later, you had made your way up to your room to call Luigi.

You were laying on the bed, phone beside you on the rumpled sheets, your foot bouncing with nervous energy. The call connected. One ring. Two. Three. By the seventh, just when you thought it might go to voicemail, you heard it - the familiar rasp of his voice, thick with sleep.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Luigi murmured, the gravel in his tone curling into your ear like a warm, velvet ribbon.

Your heart clenched instinctively. God, even now - despite the unpleasant reason for your call - the sound of him still made your skin prickle. But this wasn’t the time to melt into his voice, you had more important things to focus on now. Like his online reputation.

“Hey, baby,” you answered softly. “How are you feeling?”

He let out a low groan. “Like I’ve been hit by a truck. But I’ll survive.”

You hesitated, fingers brushing your temple. “Well… what I’m about to tell you probably isn’t going to help with that.”

“What’s going on?” he asked, voice clearer now, wary.

You took a breath. “ Well… let’s just say your night out has made quite the rounds in social media. It’s, um… not great.”

Silence.

You heard him shift, then the soft scrape of his throat being cleared.

“I’m sending you some links now. Just - watch them.”

You sent them. And waited.

The quiet on the line was filled with muffled reactions as he clicked through the TikToks. You waited in silence as you gave him time to fully absorb the content - the rooftop bar full of girls, the chaotic toasts, your dad wrestling him on the couch, and the now viral moment with Hasan absentmindedly running his fingers through his curls like they were old lovers instead two people who had known each other for ten minutes.

“Shit…” he breathed. “Okay… no… fuck.”

Then silence again.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and gutted. “This is… Fuck. This is bad. This is really embarrassing.”

“It kind of is,” you admitted gently. “It’s not exactly a great look, considering everything.”

Another pause. You heard his exhale over the line, shaky.

“I don’t even know what to say,” he murmured. “That was really fucking stupid. I wasn’t thinking. I just - I’m so sorry baby, it looks really fucking bad, I agree.”

You sat up, trying to steady your breath.

“What were you even talking to them about?”

He paused, caught off guard. “The girls?” he asked, as though the memory was only just now catching up to him.

“Yeah.”

A brief silence opened between you, not yet heavy, but thick enough to feel.

“They said they went to UPenn too,” he finally said. “That was it, really. We were just reminiscing - talking about college, old parties, people we used to know. Just... nostalgia, nothing serious. Honestly, it wasn’t even that deep.”

You let the explanation hang in the air for a moment, the words settling around you. But something about them didn’t quite sit right. You didn’t want to seem insecure or accusatory, but the question pressed against your ribs.

“Just UPenn?” you asked, trying to keep your voice measured, casual. “Because in that video, it looked like more than just college chit-chat. You were laughing a lot. Like... a lot.”

You hated the way it sounded - tight, defensive, too close to something you didn’t want to be. You could feel it the moment the words left your mouth, and you winced internally.

He hesitated and you held your breath.

“There was this party,” he said slowly, “during senior week. One of those nights that got kind of out of hand. We were all there, apparently - me, her, her friends. We were just laughing about it, that’s all.”

You nodded, but he wasn’t finished.

“I left right after…” he added, voice more cautious now.

“After what?” you asked.

Another pause. When he answered, his voice had softened, as though he were treading carefully.

“…After one of them asked if I wanted to go back to her apartment. That Molly girl.”

Your heart dropped. You didn’t speak. You didn’t move.

“But I said no of course. Immediately,” he added quickly, almost tripping over the words. “I swear to God, Liv. I shut it down the moment she said it.”

“Luigi, what the hell…”

“What?” he asked, voice suddenly small. “I did say no. I promise.”

You sat upright, pulse hammering. “I fucking hope you said no when some random girl asked you to go home with her? Like that’s bare minimum in this situation, are you fucking kidding me?” you said, louder than you meant to.

“Yes, I know, I know…” he stuttered. “Of course”.

“But that’s not even the point right now.” Your voice cracked just slightly, but you pushed through it, the frustration swelling past your throat. ”Baby, please - you can’t be this fucking naïve. You just can’t. You’re not just some random guy at a bar anymore. You know this.”

The silence that followed stretched and pulsed between you, heavy and electric.

Your mind was a mess of contradictions. Did you go at him too hard? Were you being unfair?

Guilt flooded in immediately, fast and cold. You never wanted to be like this with him. And yet, here you were, raising your voice. Yelling at him for something you weren’t even sure was his fault.

”Are you mad at me?” he asked, the words barely audible and fragile.

There was something in it that made your chest tighten - a smallness, like a little boy standing in front of something he didn’t mean to break.

You closed your eyes and pulled in a long, deliberate breath.

You let the silence stretch between you. You weren’t trying to make him squirm, but you still felt the need to let him to sit with this, just for a moment.

Not just apologize for the sake of moving on – he needed to understand why this mattered.

“I’m not mad baby” you said at last, voice gentler now. “I’m not. I’m just worried.”

You paused. It was only half true. You were definitely annoyed with him. But at the same time, you could picture his hazel puppy eyes when he spoke in that vulnerable small voice, and you didn’t have the heart to scold him the way you would like to.

You never ever wanted him to feel bad.

It was unfair really, how easily he disarmed you. How easy it was for him to soften you, to calm you down. He wasn’t doing it on purpose, but it was almost effortless. The guilt in his voice - like letting you down physically hurt him – made you rethink every bad thought you’d had about him this morning.

“The thing is” you took a deep breath. “I’m honestly not worried about you and me. I’m not. I know what we are to each other”.

You sighed again, softer this time.

“I just… I need you to be smarter, Luigi. You don’t have to be perfect all the time, that’s not what I’m saying. Just smarter. Like… where are your fucking basic survival instincts when it comes to human interaction? You must have known what she wanted when she approached you?”

“I don’t know…” he sighed. “She seemed like a nice girl. It’s not like she came up to me asking to fuck her right of the bat. We talked about normal stuff, I thought she was just being friendly”.

Your heart gave a slow, painful twist.

Of course. This was so him.

Ever open. Ever trusting. The sweet boy with the unguarded heart who moved through the world believing everyone operated with the same honesty he did. He never saw the shadows in people, never expected them. It was like it was impossible for him to imagine someone coming from a place of manipulation or self-interest.

And you loved that about him. God, you fucking loved that about him.

But sometimes, like now, it scared you - because it left him exposed.

You softened, your voice quieter now. “I’m not saying you need to shut yourself off, or avoid people altogether. Start walking around with your guard up all the time. That’s not who you are. I get that.”

You paused, your throat tightening.

“I just… I want you to understand that not everyone out there has a good heart like you do. Some people see kindness and think it’s an invitation. I guess I’m just… protective of you. That’s all.”

“I know you are,” he said gently.

“You can’t be careless, that’s all. Not anymore. You’re not anonymous. People recognize you. They film you. And then they post on TikTok talking about how hot you are and how fun it is to party with you? You know how that looks, right?”

“Like I’m a mess,” he said. “A drunk mess.”

You gave a tired laugh. “Exactly.”

 “I’m sorry I put you in this position. I really am.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you replied.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“I know that too,” you said. And you did. That was the thing - you did trust him.

You heard him sigh again, then shift under the covers.

“I guess I still don’t always think like someone who’s being watched. I forget I don’t just belong to myself anymore.”

The way he said it hit you right in the chest. There was a vulnerability in his voice now, one that caught you off guard.

“You still belong to yourself,” you said gently. “But you also belong to a bigger story now. And that story has other people in it… like me.”

There was another quiet moment between you. Then you took a breath.

“I think we both need to acknowledge that this is new territory. For you, being the focus of this kind of attention is still fresh. At least outside of jail. And for me... it’s not like any of my ex’s turned heads when they walked into a room”. The image alone was absurd enough to make you chuckle.

“I’ve never had to watch women practically throw themselves at my boyfriend, begging him to have sex with them. It’s a new world for sure, and I need to learn how to exist in it without making you the villain.”

He didn’t say anything, but you could feel him listening.

“I’ve never considered myself a jealous person,” you admitted. “But I won’t lie - watching that video of you and those girls? It was a tough watch. It got under my skin. But to be fair... just because I didn’t like it doesn’t mean you did something wrong. This is something I need to adjust to. Learn to handle. This is part of what being with you looks like. These things will happen.”

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, measured.

“You’re right,” Luigi said. “This is all new - for both of us. And our relationship is still so new on top of it all. It might be more situations like this once we’re back in New York. New situations to navigate, deal with. I just hope that we can deal with them together?”

“We will,” you said, and smiled into the receiver.

“Maybe I just need to be more visible” you added with a playful lilt. “You know, let the fan girls know what’s up. At this point we might need to stage another public make out session - just to remind the world you’re taken.”

He laughed, a warm, familiar sound. “Sounds like a solid strategy. We’ll have to set a plan for it when we’re back. And I’ll be sure to grab your boob again so that everyone sees. That seemed to be very effective last time.”

You let out a laugh, and for a moment the heaviness lifted.

“I love you,” Luigi said, his voice lower, steadier. There was something in it that made your chest ache with longing.

“I love you too,” you said. “And I miss you. So, so much”.

You took a slow, steadying breath.

“Unfortunately,” you said, your voice gentle. “You’re not off the hook just yet. Mom wants to talk to you - both you and dad, actually.”

You stood up from the bed, walking towards the door. “I’ll call you back in a few minutes - just give dad a heads-up to be ready. I’m heading downstairs to her now.”

There was a stretch of silence on the line, then a long, theatrical groan.

“Oh, fuck. This is going to be bad, isn’t it?”

You didn’t answer right away.

“Is she really mad?” he asked again, voice smaller this time.

You exhaled, dragging a hand through your hair as you turned toward the door. “Honestly? Yeah. She’s pissed, not gonna lie. And disappointed. And that’s worse.”

Another beat of silence.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Okay. I’ll wake your dad. He was passed out on his bed with one shoe still on last time I checked, but I’ll - yeah. I’ll get him up.”

You could hear him shifting around on the other end of the line - bedsheets rustling, the creak of the mattress, footsteps across the floor.

“Should I... put on a shirt or something?” he asked, hesitant.

You rolled your eyes, the corners of your mouth twitching despite yourself. “Yes, Luigi. At minimum, a shirt. Your abs won’t work on my mom.”

He let out a low, almost sheepish laugh.

“They’d work on me, obviously,” you added, a touch drier now. “Which is exactly why I didn’t make this a FaceTime call. I needed to stay focused.”

“Still folded,” he said with a smile in his voice.

“Still folded,” you confirmed, as your pulse gave a little skip.

There was a pause, a shared breath.

“Alright,” he said softly. “Shirt. Wake your dad. Prepare for judgment day. Got it. Duly noted.”

He paused. “Liv?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“I know, baby,” you said, your voice warm. “Now go get dad. I’m heading down.”

…

Downstairs, the atmosphere in the kitchen was already tense. Your mom sat at the kitchen island, her posture straight, her fingers curled loosely around a cup of coffee.

Across the room, Celine and Ben was shamelessly seated front row on the couch – ready for the drama of your call with Luigi and your dad to unfold. This was their entertainment for the day, and they weren’t going to miss a second of it. Obviously, they wouldn’t even bother to pretend they weren’t listening.

As you came down the stairs, your mom looked up, her expression tight but composed.

“Are they ready for us to call them?” she asked.

You gave a half-shrug, walking over to her.

“As ready as they’ll ever be, I guess” you said. “Luigi’s waking dad now. We can call in five.”

Your mom gave a small nod, then exhaled, her lips pressing together before she added, “This won’t come as a surprise but… yeah, TMZ has picked up on this now too. They already ran an article on it.”

She slid her phone across the counter toward you. You caught it before it could slip off the edge, and your eyes immediately locked onto the headline.

“Luigi Mangione Spotted Partying in NYC -  But Where Was His Girlfriend?”

You sighed as you scrolled, your thumb dragging down the screen while your stomach curled with a familiar knot of dread.

“This was expected,” your mother said, massaging her temples with both hands, “but still. Another reason why their night out was so unbelievably stupid.”

Her voice was clipped, each word filled with exhaustion.

“All I want is one day of peace and quiet without some goddamn gossip article.”

You started reading the article, your eyes drawn immediately to the grainy, slightly overexposed photo embedded beneath the headline. Luigi and Hasan on one of the rooftop couches, arms slung casually over each other’s shoulders, drinks in hand.

It seems Luigi Mangione is making the most of his newfound freedom. Just days after returning from an extended stay in Italy - and not long after photos surfaced of the former defendant getting unusually close with a member of his legal team -  Mangione was spotted back in New York City, enjoying a lively night out on the town.

Eyewitnesses say the controversial figure appeared in high spirits, surrounded by a group of women at a popular downtown lounge. Drinks flowed freely, and the atmosphere around Mangione was nothing short of celebratory.

Also in attendance was political commentator and social media personality Hasan Piker, who joined the group for drinks and dancing.

While Mangione seemed relaxed and clearly enjoying himself, the outing has raised some eyebrows - particularly among fans who have followed his high-profile relationship.

The question now is: How does his new girlfriend feel about Mangione’s quick return to the party scene?

Sources close to the couple have remained tight-lipped, but given Mangione’s recent legal battles and sudden rise in public interest, many are wondering if this night out is just innocent fun - or a sign of something more turbulent behind the scenes.

“I don’t even have the energy to process this right now,” you murmured, exhaling as you handed the phone back to your mother.

She took it silently, eyes skimming the screen one last time before placing it down beside her untouched coffee.

“There’s nothing we can do,” she said, her tone clipped. “There are no factual errors to challenge, nothing legally actionable. And the speculations about the state of your relationship?” She shook her head. “Obviously not something we’d ever dignify with a comment.”

Her fingers drummed once against the countertop before she stilled them.

“It is what it is,” she said finally. “It’s just... utterly unnecessary.”

A beat of silence settled in the room. Then, with a sigh and the tightening of her jaw, she straightened in her chair.

“Let’s call them,” she said. “Let’s hear what they have to say for themselves.”

Your mom picked the phone back up and propped it against the vase of fresh flowers in the center of kitchen island - and tapped through her contacts until she found your dad’s name.

Without another word, she pressed FaceTime.

The ringing filled the kitchen, tinny and too loud in the silence. You could feel Celine and Ben still watching from the couch, practically holding their breath.

Your stomach tightened as you watched the screen light up. A flicker of motion, a shifting shadow.

The first image to appear was your dad - his face comically close to the lens as he fiddled with mounting the phone.

“Hang on - hang on - how do I…?”

After a few seconds of awkward fumbling, he stepped back, seemingly satisfied with the setup. He dropped heavily onto the couch beside Luigi, who offered a tight, nervous smile to the camera.

The scene that unfolded felt unintentionally comical. Both of them sat awkwardly stiff, their expressions caught somewhere between sheepish guilt and stoic resignation - like two schoolboys summoned to the principal’s office.

Your mother didn’t speak immediately. She simply sat there, spine straight, her fingers laced together on the table in front of her - her expression unreadable.

“So,” she began, her voice slow and dripping with measured irritation, “would one of you like to walk us through exactly what happened last night?”

Your dad cleared his throat, shooting a quick, almost panicked glance sideways at Luigi, who stared firmly straight ahead. Taking it as his cue, your dad started to speak.

“Well... we did go out for a bit. After dinner.”

Your mother leaned back in her chair slowly, her eyes narrowing. She let out a small, humorless chuckle.

“Yes, Marc. That much is abundantly clear - to me and, might I add, to the entire goddamn internet.”

From across the room, Ben - comfortably nestled up against Celine - let out a low, appreciative whistle.

You turned and looked at him, raising your hand dragging it across your throat in a sharp, silent warning. He shut up, though you could still see the corners of his mouth twitching as he leaned into Celine, clearly enjoying himself.

Your mother crossed her arms now, her fingers drumming lightly against her elbow as her gaze flickered between Luigi and your dad on the screen.

“Okay, let’s try this instead. Let me ask a very simple question - did it occur to either of you, at any point during the night, to maybe not get completely shit-faced drunk?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from giggling.

“I wasn’t that bad, honestly…” Luigi offered meekly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your mom let out a sigh heavy with exhaustion, pressing her fingers to her temples like she was trying to physically hold her sanity in place. “Luigi, honey… we’ve all seen the pictures. The lights are on, but no one’s home. There is absolutely nothing going on behind your eyes in those videos posted on TikTok. You were completely wasted.”

Your mom leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes still locked on the screen.

“Let’s be clear,” she said, her strict voice cutting through the air. “This isn’t just about drinks or rooftop bars or girls in short dresses dancing. This is about judgment. It’s about self-awareness.”

”It’s about two grown men, currently at the center of one of the most high-profile legal cases of the decade, somehow failing to grasp how stumbling around visibly drunk, yelling ‘YOLO’ at the top of your lungs might come across to, oh, I don’t know - the public? The press? The prosecution of the civil cases we’ve yet to settle?”

Luigi blinked. “I… I don’t think I said ‘YOLO’?”

From the couch, Ben let out a snort of laughter. “Pretty sure no one says that anymore.”

Your mom ignored the commentary. Her eyes hadn’t moved.

“Look,” your dad said, tone careful now, “we weren’t planning on going big. It was meant to be just a quick drink. We had a couple, we ran into a few people, things escalated. It happens.”

“Escalated?” your mom repeated, her eyebrows shooting up. Her voice was sharp. “Marc, you make it sound like this was some uncontrollable force of nature. Like you just tripped and fell into a roof top bar with Hasan. As if you’re not a fully grown man who - if his life depended on it - could make a responsible choice.”

Luigi rubbed the back of his neck. “It wasn’t like… out of control. I wasn’t falling over or anything.”

“No,” your mom sighed, not missing a beat. “You were just barely keeping your eyes open. Hair a mess. Shirt stained. Drinks spilled all down the front of you. Letting three different women film you like you were some sort of animal at a petting zoo.”

She shook her head slowly. “And for what? So they could post it to social media and caption it, what was it - ‘even hotter in real life’? Got it.”

From the couch, Ben couldn’t hold it in any longer. A laugh escaped, too loud in the heavy air.

“I know you didn’t mean to end up on TikTok,” she said, more gently now. “But intention doesn’t erase consequence, Luigi. You’re a public figure now. That means you don’t get to forget that people are always watching.”

She paused for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was softer - but no less firm.

“But you know what? I don’t even blame you. You’re a young man. You should be able to have fun. You’ll make mistakes. That’s expected.”

Then her head turned, slow and deliberate, toward your dad.

“I’m mostly disappointed in you, Marc.” Her voice dropped. “You’re supposed to know better. Not be Luigis drinking buddy.”

Your dad looked at her. He didn’t get defensive. He just… nodded.

“You’re right,” he said. “I should’ve pulled the plug earlier. I should’ve seen where it was heading. I just…” He hesitated. “I wanted to let him blow off some steam.”

Your mom sat still for a beat, then gave a small nod. “Thank you for saying that. However, you and me will be having a separate conversation after this.”

“Oh shit…” Ben murmured under his breath, and Celine clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

Your dad opened his mouth to say something, then wisely closed it again.

Then your mom stood from the table, phone still angled toward the two of them. “All right. We’ve said what needed saying. I won’t drag this out - but consider yourselves both very much on notice.”

“Understood,” your dad said, lifting a hand in mock salute.

Luigi offered a sheepish smile. “I promise I’ll do better.”

He looked so impossibly cute on the screen - rumpled, a little embarrassed, but still wearing that boyish smile that always undid you. In that moment, all you wanted was to reach through the screen, press your lips against his, wrap your arms around him and hold him tight. You couldn’t wait until tomorrow to finally see him again.

“I’ll call you in a bit, baby,” you said softly. You blew him a kiss, quickly - just as your mom reached forward and ended the call with surgical precision.

Ben leaned back dramatically on the couch, lacing his fingers behind his head as he released a long, theatrical sigh.

“Ah, to be scolded by Karen…” he said, smiling like he was recalling a fond memory. “Been there a few times. It’s been a while now, though. Kinda miss it.”

Your mom turned toward him slowly, arching one perfectly sculpted brow, and raised a finger in his direction.

“If you don’t shut up, you’re next.”

Ben chuckled low in his throat, eyes gleaming. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, Karen.”

Chapter Text

The next day, Luigi and your dad weren’t expected to land until four in the afternoon - but by noon you were already restless, pacing the length of the house like a caged animal.

Your thoughts drifted, your eyes often fixed on something in the distance. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t concentrate on anything for more than a few moments - the countdown in your mind had taken over completely.

Every tick of the clock brought you closer to the moment you could finally see him again - touch him, kiss him, breathe him in.

The anticipation was unbearable, almost childlike. It reminded you of the nights before Christmas when you were little - unable to sleep, heart racing, stomach flipping in quiet excitement. Only now, it wasn’t presents you were waiting for - it was him.

“For fuck’s sake, sit down!” Celine’s voice cut through the air from the patio, sharp and exasperated. “You’re driving everyone nuts with your pacing. If you need to burn off energy, at least take a walk or something!”

“I already did,” you replied, pausing near the window. “This morning. It’s too hot now.”

“Well, then you’ll have to find something else to do, because we still have four hours to go, and you’re honestly starting to stress me out.”

“Let her be,” Ben murmured from the lounger beside her, barely lifting his head. “You were the same way when we were apart in the beginning. Calling me, crying on the phone about how you couldn’t stand another day without me…”

“I never did that,” Celine interrupted flatly.

“Sobbing, whispering how you couldn’t bear another minute, another second away from me,” he continued dramatically, ignoring her entirely.

“This literally never happened,” she said, waving a hand at him dismissively.

“Whimpering,” Ben went on with a theatrical sigh. “Saying you needed me beside you because you couldn’t breathe without me.”

“Okay, he’s totally lost it,” Celine said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway - while Ben’s off frolicking in his little fantasy land - how about I make you a drink to take the edge off?”

“You know what… that might actually help,” you said with a small laugh, grateful for the distraction.

“Say no more,” she replied, pushing her sunglasses onto her head and rising from her chair. “One ice-cold margarita, coming right up.”

As she stepped inside, Ben shifted onto his side to face you, lowering his voice just a little.

“Hey, Liv – Karen told me she’s tied up all afternoon, so I told her I’d take you to the airport instead. Hope that’s okay.”

“Are you sure? That’s really nice of you – you know how I hate driving here. Thank you.”

“No worries at all,” he said with a shrug. “I needed to get out of the house anyway.” Then, leaning in slightly, he added with a soft grin, “And honestly? I’m missing Marc and Luigi like crazy too – you’re not the only one counting down the minutes.”

You smiled, a knot of emotion tightening in your chest.

A few moments later, Celine reappeared on the patio, balancing a tray of drinks. She leaned forward with exaggerated flair, letting both you and Ben each take a glass from it.

“There we go,” she said cheerfully. “A virgin margarita for you, Ben - since you’re the designated driver today.” Then she turned to you with a smirk. “And one super extra strong for you. Let’s pray the alcohol does its job and chills you out - for everyone’s sake.”

The margarita was ice-cold and delicious. The tang of lime hit just right, followed by the soft burn of tequila. It went down far too easily. Celine topped you off with a generous refill barely fifteen minutes later, and by then, you could feel the buzz beginning to hum pleasantly at the edge of your thoughts.

The anxiety hadn’t vanished completely, but it had dulled a bit - muted just enough to let you relax, lounging in the sun.

However, the images in your mind – specifically the ones of him finally back in your bed tonight - had only grown more vivid under the influence of alcohol. The warmth in your chest was spreading lower and you felt yourself blush when you imagined the two of you naked together later – his hands and his mouth on your skin, your fingers running through his soft curls.

You sat up a little straighter and announced, deadpan, “Well. Now I’m drunk instead.”

“That was the plan,” Celine replied, utterly satisfied with herself.

“Thank you for your service,” you said, giving her a tipsy little salute. “But now I need to go upstairs and get ready. I want to look cute for my boyfriend.” A giggle slipped out as you stood, slightly wobbly.

“You do that,” Celine said, smiling at you fondly. Then she glanced over at Ben and gave him a knowing look.

...

Back upstairs in your room, you headed straight into the bathroom. You twisted your hair up into a claw clip and splashed your face with cold water - hoping to wash off some of the haze of the margaritas and the hours of anticipation.

The chill was refreshing. You dried your face with a towel and reached for your skincare products, applying each one with a careful hand, letting the familiar ritual calm your nerves while the toner, serum and moisturizer settled into your skin.

While waiting for everything to absorb, you stepped back into your bedroom and opened the double doors of your closet. The warm air outside filtered faintly through the open balcony doors, and you could already feel the heaviness of the afternoon heat.

You needed something light, breathable - but you also wanted to look sexy for Luigi. It had been three days since you last saw him, and you wanted the reunion to feel special.  You wanted to wear something he would love the moment he laid eyes on you.

Your fingers slid along the different fabrics hanging in your closet, pausing when they reached one of your favorite dresses by Johanna Ortiz. A halter neck linen mini with a vibrant multicolor print and delicate self-ties at the back.

The cut was bold but breezy - airy where it needed to be, and revealing just enough skin to make it appeal to the male gaze. It wasn’t something you usually took into consideration when choosing an outfit but today was different.

The dress left elegant slivers of your waist exposed, teasingly subtle. It felt like the perfect balance - playful, summery, and just sexy enough. And you knew Luigi had a weakness for cutouts. He was a man, after all.

You slipped into the dress, adjusting the ties behind your neck and smoothing the fabric down with your hands. The linen fell effortlessly against your skin. One glance in the mirror told you everything you needed to know - this was the perfect choice. The colors lit up your complexion, and it would pair beautifully with your embellished Gianvito Rossi leather sandals waiting by the door.

Back in the bathroom, you decided to give yourself a few extra moments to focus on your makeup. You wanted it to look effortless - sun-kissed, natural, but of course undeniably flawless.

Even if it felt a little silly, it was something about looking perfect for Luigi today that felt important. You wanted to show up as the very best version of yourself. Maybe it was love, or maybe it was just vanity – you couldn’t really tell. But somehow it felt like you were meeting him for the very first time all over again.

…

About an hour later, you made your way down to the car. Ben was already waiting, driver’s side door open, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel as he was scrolling on his phone, while the heavy bass of a Future and Young Thug track vibrated through the car.

As soon as he saw you approaching, he leaned over and turned the volume down with a smirk.

“Looking cute, Liv. Ready to go pick up your boyfriend?”

A smile spread across your face - wider than you intended, automatic, unstoppable.

“Let’s go,” you said, slipping into the passenger seat and pulling the door shut beside you.

As Ben pulled out through the gates and turned onto the main road, he adjusted the rearview mirror and gave you a sideways glance, his grin easy.

“Excited to see him again?”

“So fucking excited,” you said, almost laughing at yourself. Your stomach fluttered with anticipation - the kind of anxious joy that made you feel like a teenager again.

“Can’t believe it’s only been three days and I’m behaving like this. I know I’m pathetically down for this man, but I can’t help myself.”

“It’s cute” Ben chuckled. “And with all the drama since Luigi and Marc left, it feels like they’ve been gone for at least a month.”

“Yeah…” You shook your head, smiling faintly. “It’s been… eventful.”

He skipped a song, French Montana now playing low through the speakers.

After a beat, he glanced at you again, this time more thoughtful. “So… how are you feeling about everything now? You know, all the stuff that’s been posted on social media about Luigi. You okay?”

You exhaled slowly, your eyes fixed on the stretch of highway ahead.

“You know… it is what it is.” You paused. “I think part of it is just me adjusting. Realizing this is the new normal. I had a pretty strong reaction to it at first - angry, confused. Honestly a little jealous, embarrassingly enough. But after talking to him, really talking… I guess I understand. There’ll probably be more situations like that when we’re back.”

Ben nodded, checking his mirrors as he prepared to take the upcoming exit for the airport.

“The attention’s super intense right now.” He took another quick glance over at you as he spoke. “Especially since he hasn’t been that visible since the acquittal. He’s been low-key, staying with us in Italy all summer.”

“Exactly” you said, pausing for a moment. “I guess it’s exciting for people to see him again, especially out in a normal setting like a bar or a restaurant. But once he’s around more, I think the novelty will wear off.”

“For sure,” Ben said with a chuckle. “There’ll always be someone new for people to obsess over. That’s how it works.”

“Right. But still, he’ll always be recognized to some extent. And with that comes… well, a kind of burden. Whether he likes it or not. He has to carry himself differently now.”

“He’s a good kid, though. I’m sure he’ll manage.” Ben smiled.

“He really is,” you agreed, your voice softening. “And I’m not actually worried about his behavior. You know how he is – always well-mannered, thoughtful. He definitely knows how to act.”

“That all-boys private school polish doesn’t fade easy,” Ben said with a grin.

You laughed, but then hesitated.

“It’s just… he really does have the worst judgment when it comes to people. He always has. It’s kind of endearing in a way - he’s got this pure heart, always assuming others mean well just because he would never hurt someone on purpose.”

“Mhm,” Ben murmured, nodding. “I hear you.”

“I don’t want to change that about him,” you added quickly. “I love that about him. I really do. But I also want him to be careful. And for me to find the balance here - trying to help him without seeming controlling? Telling him what to do? That’s not easy.”

“You’re not a controlling person,” Ben said gently. “Not at all. He knows that.”

You looked out the window, the city slowly thickening around you as you got closer to the airport.

“I think that’s my biggest fear about going back to New York,” you admitted. “The uncertainty. Who he’ll start hanging out with. What kind of people will try to latch onto him. He can’t be with me all the time. He shouldn’t be, that would be super weird. He needs his own life, his own friend group. I just… I don’t want him to get used.”

Ben was quiet for a moment.

“Please take this the right way - but I was thinking… I could maybe be, like, a buffer for him?” His tone was careful, thoughtful.

You turned to look at him, surprised.

“I mean, he’s obviously capable. Honestly, we all know he’s way smarter than me,” Ben said with a short laugh.

“But maybe in the beginning, when we’re all back in the city and he’s settling in… I could just be around a bit more. Try to tag along when he’s going out or meeting people - especially if they seem a little off. Just keep an eye out.”

You were quiet for a moment, touched.

“Again - please don’t take this the wrong way,” Ben added, his voice cautious now.

Your heart swelled at the offer – given so sincerely, so gentle. The way Ben cared about Luigi was still something that caught you off guard. But in the best way possible.

“No, I totally get what you’re saying,” you said, smiling as you looked at him. “And honestly? I think that’s a really good idea.”

He smiled too, just slightly, keeping his eyes on the road.

“I mean, we’d probably hang out a lot anyway,” he said. “But if he’s meeting up with new people - or, like, people with a weird vibe - I don’t mind stepping in. I wouldn’t mind being a sort of… a big brother to him.” A faint smile touched his lips. “Me being 6' 5" and 220 pounds has its perks if anyone decides to act up.”

You let out a laugh and felt yourself warm from the inside out.

“Ben… thank you,” you said softly, your voice wrapped in gratitude. There was more to him than his easy charm – that heart of his was a lot bigger than he let on.

“Besides,” he added with a grin, “better to bring me than his girlfriend. Less obvious he’s got a babysitter that way.”

You laughed again, and for the first time that day, your shoulders relaxed.

Ben pulled the car to a smooth stop just outside the sliding glass doors of the arrival’s terminal. The airport was busy - families reunited with wide smiles and loud greetings, the low hum of idling engines and overhead announcements filling the air.

You’d been tracking their flight obsessively all day, watching the little plane icon crawl across the map on your screen, and now – finally - it had landed. Any minute now, Luigi and your dad would walk through those doors.

Your heart thudded hard in your chest, so loud you could hear it in your ears. Ben reached over to nudge you gently.

“They’ve landed, right?”

You nodded quickly, eyes locked on the exit doors like your life depended on it.

Ben continued to make small talk - something about a trip to South America, a suitcase gone missing, and it turning up three weeks later in India - but the words barely registered.

Nothing mattered but those sliding glass doors.

You didn’t want to blink. Not even once. You were afraid to miss the exact moment Luigi appeared.

It had only been three days, and yet somehow, it felt longer - like you’d been holding your breath the entire time. You almost felt like you’d forgotten the exact way his face looked. You needed to see him again to remember.

The softness in his hazel eyes, the way he always tilted his head when he looked at you. His long dark lashes, his curly hair. His beautiful smile. You needed to see that smile again.

You leaned forward in your seat, heart climbing further up your throat with each passing second.

You sat there, motionless, barely breathing. People kept streaming out of the sliding glass doors - business travelers, families, friend groups with tans returning from holidays - but not him. Not yet.

But then suddenly - he was there.

He stepped through the doors with that unmistakable gait, your dad trailing just behind him.

He squinted against the afternoon sun, his brows knitting together. He was dressed in all black, his hoodie pulled up over his curls until, with a practiced swipe of his hand, he pushed it back and raked his fingers through his hair.

He paused at the curb, scanning the parking lot like he wasn’t entirely sure where to look.

You shoved the car door open and practically launched yourself into the heat and light of the asphalt lot, your feet barely touching the ground as you rushed toward him. You left the car door hanging open behind you, Ben’s voice fading behind you, lost beneath the pounding of your heart.

Luigi saw you almost instantly.

That smile – good God, that smile.

It unfolded across his face like the sun cresting over the horizon, and it made your chest ache with how familiar and beautiful it was. He was so, so gorgeous.

His pace quickened. So did yours.

And then you collided.

There was no grace to it. Just limbs and warmth and desperation. He wrapped both his big hands around your face, and you circled your arms tightly around his waist, burying yourself in the heat of his body.

For a breathless moment, he didn’t kiss you. He just looked at you, eyes wide, glassy, full of something deep and wordless - like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

And then your mouths met.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tentative. It was immediate, wild, and full of all the aching days and lonely nights since you’d last touched.

The moment his lips pressed to yours, a jolt shot through you, like electricity crashing through your veins, lighting you up from the inside out. Your whole body shuddered. Goosebumps spread across your skin despite the heat. His warm soft lips on yours felt like being healed.

He tasted like mint and something deeply, unmistakably him. And for that moment, there was no airport or crowd of people walking past. There was just the feel of his mouth, the warmth of his hands, the rush of being in his presence again.

He felt warm and familiar. Solid and safe. You let your hands slip underneath his hoodie, letting your fingers run over his soft, warm skin. You wanted to cling to the warmth of it and never let go.

And God, it was overwhelming.

You’d known you missed him - but you hadn’t fully known how much until now. Until he was holding you again. It was like the full force of it hit you all at once - the feeling was so overwhelming that you couldn’t breathe.

The emotions surged too fast to hold back - too big, too raw. They tore through you like a storm, and before you could stop them, tears were already carving quiet rivers down your cheeks.

A pressure rose in your chest, like your heart was swelling too big to be contained. It was all too much - the way he smelled, the warmth of his hands, the look in his eyes like you were the only thing in the world.

He broke the kiss gently, his brow furrowed in sudden concern. He cradled your face in his palms, holding you just far enough to see you clearly.

“Baby… wait…” His voice dropped to a whisper, soft and urgent. “Are you crying?”

He pulled you closer again, thumbs swiping tenderly at your cheeks. His face was drawn now, searching yours. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You tried to speak, but your throat caught. You blinked hard, willing yourself to form words through the tightness in your chest.

“I’ve just… I’ve just missed you so, so much.” That was all you could manage, voice shaking.

And that was it. That was all you had. It was the only thing that came close to capturing the ache that had lived in you since the moment he left. The longing and the relief of having him here now in front of you, real and whole and warm.

You clutched at the fabric of his hoodie like it might keep you from unraveling completely.

He didn’t say anything right away. He didn’t need to. Instead, he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you as if to shield you from everything. His lips pressed to the top of your head, and you could feel him breathe you in.

“I missed you too,” he murmured. “So much. You have no fucking idea.”

Then he leaned back slightly, still cradling your face with the kind of tenderness that made your heart ache. His thumbs brushed beneath your eyes, and then - without a word - he began planting soft, fluttering kisses across your skin.

One on your forehead.

One on the tip of your nose.

Two on your left cheek. Then two more on the right.

He kept going - tiny, reverent kisses that felt like blessings. Each one sent a thrill through your nerves, a ripple of warmth that moved through you like sunlight on water.

His lips, warm and impossibly gentle, danced across your face like he was memorizing every curve, every freckle, every piece of you he hadn’t touched in too long.

You started to giggle. You couldn’t help it – it was pure joy bubbling up, uncontainable. The sound escaped your chest in waves.

He paused, pulled back just enough to look at you, and he was smiling now - wide and boyish, like your laughter was the only thing he wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

Then he leaned in again, lips meeting yours in a kiss that was slow and full and impossibly tender. It was a kiss that said everything you wanted to hear without a single word. A kiss that made the world tilt and settle at the same time.

You were still giggling, your joy crackling like a live wire beneath your skin. And then he started laughing too, and the sound vibrated between your mouths, into the kiss, until you were both laughing into each other - holding on to each other. No firework could ever compare to this.

He kissed you again, and again - through the laughter, through the grin that wouldn’t leave your face - and you had the sudden, intense, beautiful thought that nothing in the world could ever taste better than this.

His laughter in your mouth.

Chapter Text

The second you stepped back into the house, your mother let out a delighted shriek that bounced off the walls. Luigi had barely crossed the threshold when she launched herself at him, arms wrapping tightly around him in a fierce, familiar hug.

“It feels so good to have you back home,” she breathed, pulling away just enough to take in the sight of him, her hands gripping his arms.

Behind them, your dad walked in and cleared his throat with theatrical exaggeration.

“Think you could at least pretend to be excited to see me too?”

Your mom leaned slightly to the side, peering around Luigi until her eyes found your dad’s. Her smile softened.

“Nightclub Marc can wait his turn. My littlest baby’s been gone too long.”

“Mom, please,” Celine said with a disgusted look on her face, appearing right behind her. “It comes to a fucking point, you know.”

With an affectionate nudge, she pried your mom off Luigi and gave him a firm, sisterly hug of her own.

“We’ve all missed you,” she said, stepping back with a grin. “It’s just that some of us handle it in a way that doesn’t scream psych ward.”

Luigi let out a chuckle as he put down his backpack on the floor.

“Okay!” your mom announced, clapping her hands together with brisk enthusiasm.

“Celine and I actually put together an early dinner - we figured you’d probably be starving after the flight. The barbecue’s ready to go, so tonight’s an improvised seafood and veggie grill. Hopefully that works for everyone?”

“That sounds absolutely amazing,” Luigi said with a warm smile.

She beamed. “I’ll let you go up to your room to get changed, but dinner’s almost ready. So no… lingering,” she added, giving both you and Luigi a knowing, pointed look.

“You heard her, Mangione,” Ben chimed in with a grin as he walked past you in the hallway. “No funny business upstairs. I’m hungry.”

Once upstairs, the moment Luigi shut the bedroom door behind you, everything else fell away. You were in each other’s arms instantly, the kisses messy and desperate, heat rising between you like a storm finally breaking – it was like you had both missed each other to the point where your bodies were starving for each other.

You stumbled together across the room, collapsing onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, his body heavy and solid on top of yours, pressing you deep into the soft white bedding.

Having him here again - here, in your room, in your bed - filled you with a deep wave of gratitude.

You wrapped a leg around his waist, drawing him in, wanting nothing more than to feel every inch of him, to erase the distance of all those long days apart.

“I love this dress,” Luigi murmured, his fingers gliding over your waist, tracing the edges of the cutouts, swirling lazy circles across your bare skin.

You smiled to yourself.

“I knew you’d like it.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, voice low and reverent.

His hands slipped beneath the fabric, exploring the slivers of exposed skin where the dress parted, fingers tracing slow, teasing lines. “Love an outfit with easy access.”

You giggled, the sound light in the charged air. “I’ll give you even more access if you’d like.”

He let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a chuckle, his head dropping for a moment.

“You know that’s all I want… But Karen said no lingering.”

“Didn’t know you were that scared of my mom.” You raised a brow, amused.

You leaned up and kissed his neck, soft and open-mouthed, brushing your lips along the rough stubble of his jawline and the warm skin just beneath his ear. He let out a low, involuntary moan, hands tightening slightly around your hips.

“I think I’m still on notice after everything that went down in New York. I want to…” he murmured, his voice rough with want. “I just… I want to make sure I’m on my best behavior.”

“Sounds boring,” you teased.

He let out a laugh as he rolled you beneath him, grabbing your wrists and pinning them gently above your head against the bed. You laughed, breathless, as he pressed his mouth back to yours - hungry, deep, and full of every second you’d been apart.

He used his knee to nudge your legs farther apart, his hips pressing down, rolling against yours in a slow, deliberate grind. A soft moan escaped you as the friction sent sparks rushing through your entire body.

You could feel him through the taut fabric of his pants, hard and insistent, and a wave of heat bloomed low in your belly.

You broke the kiss, gasping softly, your gaze locking with his.

“If you’re just teasing me,” you whispered, breath uneven, “we need to stop. Three days without your dick and then this… I don’t think I can keep it together much longer.”

Luigi laughed under his breath, then leaned down to press a long, lingering kiss to your lips.

“Okay,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “We both need to behave. Let’s get this dinner over with … and then I’ll fuck you.”

“Oh my god,” you said with a laugh, pressing your hand to your warm cheek.

He sat up beside you, hand absently stroking your thigh. Then, as if a light flicked on in his mind, his expression shifted - brightening with a smile.

“Oh, wait – I almost forgot. I got you something when I was in New York.”

“Really?” You perked up immediately, propping yourself on your elbows, curiosity blooming.

“Nothing big, don’t get too excited,” he said with a chuckle, standing and walking over to his backpack slung against your desk chair.

After a bit of rummaging through his backpack - complete with a few exaggerated huffs and muttered curses - Luigi finally turned around with something in his hand and made his way back to the bed.

He sat beside you, smiling, and held out a small cream-colored box wrapped in a soft pink ribbon.

“Again - don’t get too excited,” he said, amused. “It’s not jewelry.”

You straightened up fully beside him. Your fingers brushed his as he handed you the box, and you couldn’t help but smile, your eyes meeting his with a glint of affection.

Carefully, you untied the ribbon, letting it slip into your lap. You opened the box slowly.

Nestled beneath layers of crinkled pink tissue paper was something solid and gleaming - brass.

Your breath caught as you peeled back the final sheet.

A polished door sign. The engraving was simple, clean, and beautiful.

Agnifilo Mangione.

You stared at it for a moment, the weight of it settling into your chest, warm and unexpected.

A laugh bubbled up - half wonder, half emotion. “You got me a door sign?”

Luigi shrugged, a little sheepish. “I walked past this little shop nearby your office that did custom brass engravings. I saw it and just… It was the same type of sign you picked out for the firm’s apartment, so I thought you might like the style of it.”

You ran your fingers over the etched letters, heart swelling.

“I don’t know. It made me think of you. Of us. Like… It’s just, being in New York just for a few days got me so excited for us, for the future. This could be the sign that we put up on the door when we’re back… Like, living together.”

He smiled, and something flickered in his eyes -  that soft, wordless love.

“I love it,” you whispered, looking up at him. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s official now,” he said slowly. “You’re stuck with me.”

You turned to face him fully, pulse fluttering like wings in your throat.

“I still can’t believe how much has happened since we came here,” he said softly. “When we boarded our plane to Italy… if someone had told me I’d come back to New York with you as my girlfriend… ” He broke off, shaking his head. “It’s wild.”

You watched him with that smile still playing at his lips, warm and patient. Your heart was swelling with emotion, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him.

”What?” He smiled.

”I just… I just love you so much”.

…

Downstairs, the house was already alive with noise. The volume had crept up steadily, your dad and Ben immersed in an intense debate about the upcoming midterm elections. Your mom moved between the kitchen and the patio, glasses clinking as she made the final adjustments to the table setting.

From outside, the steady hiss and pop of the grill drifted in – shockingly enough under the management of Celine.

You and Luigi stepped out onto the patio, hands still entwined. It was almost impossible for you not to touch him. After the days apart, it was like your skin needed to make up for the touch lost. Every soft brush of your fingers was a quiet reminder that he was finally here.

“Celine – am I seeing this correctly?” you said with a grin, eyeing your sister. “Are you operating the grill?”

Celine glanced up, cheeks flushed, hair frizzing slightly from the heat, a pair of tongs clutched in her hand.

“I don’t even know how the fuck I ended up here,” she snapped, exasperated. “Ben ditched me for some mansplaining on the importance of countering right-wing disinformation with dad, and now I’m just trying not to serve everyone raw salmon and burned zucchini.”

She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead and then yelled toward the table.

“Ben! Why the hell did you leave me over here? I don’t know how the fuck to grill!”

“Oh - shit!” Ben jumped to his feet, suddenly looking very guilty. “Hold up. Totally forgot. Get the hell away from there before you ruin dinner and start a grease fire.”

Celine threw him the tongs with a disgruntled look on her face and then turned to you with a dramatic eye roll.

“I swear, if he tries to blame any part of any burned food on me, I’m going to lose it”.

You laughed as Luigi gave your hand a gentle squeeze, then turned to you with that look - that open, adoring gaze that still made your stomach flutter.

He leaned in, brushed a kiss over your lips, and smiled.

“Can I get you something to drink, my gorgeous girl?”

“Mmm, I’d love a glass of Chardonnay,” you murmured, your fingers trailing tenderly over the scruff on his jaw.

“Coming right up,” he said, stealing one more kiss - this one slower, more deliberate - before letting go of your hand and slipping into the kitchen.

You crossed the patio, your sandals brushing softly against the stone, and took in the table your mom had so lovingly prepared.

A soft peach linen ran the length of it, napkins carefully folded at each place setting. Tea lights flickered in clusters, casting golden halos over the tableware, and in between them, delicate vases held freshly cut blush roses - creamy petals tinged with pink, plucked from the climbing Eden rose that was growing along the back of the house.

The whole setting glowed with a kind of understated elegance.

Table settings had always been something you and your mom took pride in. You got that from her - the instinct to soften the world through beauty, to turn everyday moments into something quietly extraordinary and pretty.

You sank into your seat, the plush back cushion soft beneath you as you exhaled and let the evening settle into you. The air was filled with the smoky scent of grilling vegetables and seafood, the warmth of the setting sun casting a golden haze across the garden.

Everything felt just right - the gentle flicker of the tea lights, the soft scent of roses… but most of all, the people you loved were all gathered around you.

Luigi returned from the kitchen, balancing two glasses of wine. He placed one in front of you and then leaned in, lifting your chin with the crook of his finger.

“Give me a kiss,” he said with a playful glint in his eye.

You smiled and tilted your head to meet him, lips brushing his in a kiss that lingered - slow, warm and familiar. When he pulled back, he handed you your wine with a grin before turning toward the grill.

“Hey Ben, need a hand?”

Ben looked over his shoulder, brow raised but relaxed. “Nah, I’ve got this. Almost done. Just sit down and enjoy.”

He began carefully plating the final pieces of grilled shrimp, salmon, zucchini, and asparagus.

“Celine - can you come grab this and bring it over to the table?”

Soon, the entire family was gathered around the table. Wine glasses clinked gently. Plates filled quickly, hands passing bowls and platters across the table.

You realized, with a sudden pang of hunger, that you’d barely eaten all day - your nerves had stolen your appetite. But now, everything smelled impossibly delicious.

“This looks incredible,” you said, taking a sip of your wine and glancing down at your plate.

“It really does,” Luigi added. “What an amazing way to celebrate being back. This night is… kind of perfect.”

You watched him as he smiled to himself, completely relaxed.

It wasn’t just happiness - it was something deeper. He was glowing with a quiet sense of contentment.

You reached over and stroked his back, your fingers trailing upward to the nape of his neck, tangling gently in his curls. He leaned into your touch without hesitation.

“It feels so good to have you back at this table,” your mom said softly, looking at Luigi with warmth. “Everything feels right now. Seeing you two together like this… it just makes me feel peaceful.”

“I feel peaceful too,” Luigi said, setting down his fork and knife. “Honestly, that’s the only word I can think of. I feel like I’m exactly where I should be.”

A warm hush fell over the table.

“For so long, I’ve been… Well, not where I wanted to be” he let out a dry chuckle.  “But now, this feeling in contrast - it’s almost unreal.” He turned to you, his gaze steady and full.

Your mom blinked back what looked suspiciously like tears. “You’re such a light in our lives, Luigi. To know that you feel peace here - with us - that means more than I can say.”

Your dad nodded. “You’ve always been a light. From the first time we met you. That’s what’s so remarkable. Even in your darkest moments, you still found a way to bring joy to the people around you.”

You looked at Luigi again - his expression was soft, but there was a depth behind it.

“You know,” he began, gripping the stem of his wine glass thoughtfully, “that’s something I learned when I was in jail. Something I saw again and again. The people I met there - some who passed through my life briefly, others who stayed longer - they had this… resilience. Even in the worst of circumstances, they found ways to express love. Gratitude. Kindness.”

He paused, his voice low but sure.

“I learnt that you can still radiate light if you’re sad. You can still be kind and soft-hearted, even if you’re carrying darkness. You don’t have to be the happiest person to make someone else’s day better.”

He glanced around the table, then back at you.

“I love knowing that no matter what happens to me, I can still remain sensitive and full of love. No place, no person, can take it from me. I know that now. Any love I give out is for anyone to keep. There is no bottom line or catch.”

A silence fell again - but this time it was reverent, thick with love. You reached for his hand beneath the table, and when your fingers found his, he held on tight.

"Knowing that - really knowing it, deep in my bones - is one of the most grounding feelings I’ve ever had,” Luigi said, his voice quiet but steady. “But more than anything, it’s made me realize how fiercely grateful I am for everything I have now. For this life, for this table, for all of you.”

A silence settled for a beat before Celine spoke, her voice gentle.

“That’s… honestly kind of beautiful.”

She looked at Luigi with softened eyes. “I think we all need to be reminded to really see what we have. Life moves so fast, we forget how fragile it all is - how quickly things can be taken away. Watching you go through everything you’ve endured… it really put things in perspective.”

Luigi smiled at her, then turned his gaze to you, his fingers gently tightening around yours.

“But with all that said,” he added, his tone warming, “feeling peaceful becomes a whole lot easier when you get to wake up every morning beside the kindest, most breathtaking woman you’ve ever met.”

Your mother let out a delighted squeal, clapping her hands with enthusiasm.

Ben gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Still the smoothest guy in the room, Mangione.”

Luigi laughed, the sound low and genuine, his thumb brushing lightly across the back of your hand. “What can I say? I mean every word.”

You felt your cheeks warm, but the feeling was deeper than just flattery. It was the way he said it - without hesitation, without making a show out of it. Like it was the most obvious truth in the world.

“You better mean it,” you teased, bumping your shoulder lightly against his.

“It’s the curse and the blessing of hard times.” Your dad nodded slowly.  “They strip things away - but what’s left, if you’re lucky, is real. Solid. Worth everything.”

Luigi leaned in and kissed your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.

“I don’t take a second of this for granted,” he whispered.

You looked around the table - at your family, at the soft glow of the evening, at the wineglass in your hand, at the beautiful boy beside you who came into your life in the most unexpected way and now felt like home.

“I don’t either,” you said quietly.

Dinner unfolded in a haze of laughter, clinking glasses, and stories. There was an effortless joy in being together again, wrapped in the soft breeze of the summer night.

As the hours slipped by, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of plum and rose. The flickering tea lights along the table cast warm shadows, dancing across linen napkins and half-full wine glasses.

You leaned back into your chair, your legs comfortably draped across Luigi’s lap. His fingers traced slow, deliberate paths along your calves and ankles beneath the table, each touch leaving behind a trail of heat.

The wine, the night air, and the magnetic pull of his presence had begun to stir something low and insistent inside you - a quiet ache, a longing that was becoming harder to ignore. You stretched your arms above your head with a theatrical yawn, the gesture equal parts innocent and suggestive.

“Tired, sweetheart?” your mom asked, her voice warm.

You nodded with a soft smile. “I am, yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Then go,” she said, waving you off affectionately. “You two head upstairs, get some rest. We’ll take care of the cleanup. Bring a bottle of wine, make a night of it.”

Luigi’s hand crept higher beneath the tablecloth, and when your eyes met, the mischievous glint in his gaze made your breath catch.

“That sounds perfect,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “I’m beat.”

The anticipation between you crackled like a live wire.

You slipped into the kitchen to grab a bottle of chilled wine and two glasses, the air suddenly thick with expectation.

As you began walking up the stairs, you felt his presence right behind you. His hand slid beneath the hem of your dress, warm against your skin. You threw him a look over your shoulder, laughter bubbling in your chest as you quickened your pace, your heart already racing for what was to come.

Back in your room, Luigi closed the door behind him with a soft thud. You had already made your way onto the balcony, drawn to the watercolor sky where dusky purples melted into streaks of faded coral.

“Can I tempt you with a glass of wine on the balcony?” you called over your shoulder, casting him an exaggeratedly flirty look.

He smirked, voice low. “That sounds amazing.”

He followed you out, and you placed the bottle, two glasses, and your phone on the small table between the loungers. Without hesitation, Luigi sank into the nearest lounger and stretched out with a boyish grin that made your heart flutter.

“Come here, baby,” he murmured, opening his arms and motioning you to him.

You giggled softly and settled between his legs, your back pressed against the strong wall of his chest. His arms came around you at once, wrapping you in a warmth that made your entire body melt into his. A sigh of deep contentment escaped your lips - this was everything. This was home.

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips reverent, almost still with feeling. Below the balcony, from the patio, the low hum of your family’s voices rose into the night – still laughing, talking, glasses clinking in the fading twilight.

The soft opening chords of American by Lana Del Rey drifted from the speakers below, weaving into the air.

You make me crazy, you make me wild
Just like a baby, spin me 'round like a child

Luigi began to hum along in your ear, the vibrations of his voice warm and smooth. You closed your eyes, letting yourself fall deeper into the moment.

“Being back in New York…” he began, his voice a tender murmur near your ear, “It made me feel a lot of things. It pulled something open in me. It reminded me of when we first met.”

“Missing the MDC already, huh?” You tilted your head back slightly, teasing.

He let out a low chuckle. “Not exactly.”

There was a pause - not awkward, but weighted. His arms swayed you gently to the rhythm of the music below.

“I am and always have been intense,” he said finally, voice slower now, thoughtful. “Everything means something to me - even the smallest moments. Especially the small moments.”

“So when I first saw you - just walking into that awful and depressing meeting room, all those grim white walls closing in - and then there you were…” He exhaled a laugh, soft and as if he was astonished even now. “I swear, I knew my life was changed forever.”

You reached up and placed your hands over his where they rested across your stomach, squeezing gently. He held you tighter.

“My greatest and only wish after that first time meeting you,” he said, voice thickening with emotion, “was just… that you'd be happy whenever you thought of me. That was it. Because every time I thought of you, I was. From that very first moment. And every moment since.”

He let one hand glide slowly up your side until it rested just below your ear, fingers curling gently around your neck as he tilted your face toward him.

His warm lips found yours in a kiss that deepened with aching ease, his tongue smoothly making its way in between your lips, brushing against yours in a rhythm that unraveled you.

A soft warmth bloomed beneath your skin, every part of you softening against him.

With his lips on yours, his other hand explored the curve of your waist, drifting lower over your hips, sometimes pausing to squeeze - possessive, patient, teasing. You sighed quietly into his mouth.

Then you could feel it. His hand made its way up underneath your dress, fingers ghosting along the lace of your underwear.

He didn’t linger long - just enough to make you ache with anticipation - before retreating back to your hip. He grinned against your kiss, clearly enjoying the slow undoing he was causing.

“Baby…” you whispered breathlessly. “I need you… like, right now.”

He grazed your bottom lip with his teeth, humming low.

Then, without another word, his hand moved down again - more confident this time, more deliberate. He effortlessly slid your panties to the side, and let his fingers briefly brush against your wetness. The sudden sensation stole your breath, and your body arched instinctively in response.

You gasped, but he immediately brought his mouth close to your ear.

“Shh…” he whispered, voice warm and teasing. “Your family is right underneath the balcony, remember? You can’t let them hear us.”

You nodded faintly, the tension in your body drawing tighter with every passing second. He let his fingers slip underneath your panties once more – moving slowly, expertly, his breath a constant presence at your ear.

“You really needed this,” he murmured, each word sending a shiver down your spine. “Didn’t you?”

You whimpered quietly, the sound barely audible, and he chuckled - deep and soft, like he was completely in control.

Then he paused.

“Wanna play a game?”

You turned to look at him, and the look in his eyes was electric - playful and dark. A slow smirk spread across his face.

“Let’s see,” he whispered, lips now brushing your ear, “how long you can stay quiet out here with me touching you like this.”

Chapter Text

He grabbed your face with one hand with a possessive tenderness, guiding it back to meet his lips in another kiss. The moment your mouths met, the spark ignited again - sharp, electric, racing down your spine and curling low in your belly.

“My guess is…” he murmured, his voice ragged and breathless between kisses, “that you won’t be able to stay quiet for very long.”

“I can control myself,” you whispered against his mouth, your words barely more than a shiver of sound caught in the heat between you.

He pulled back just enough to let you see the smirk on his face. “Okay…” he said, his voice rich with teasing challenge. “Let’s see.”

You leaned back into him, resting your head against the firm, steady rise of his chest, feeling the slow rhythm of his breath. Your fingers drifted down to his thighs, feather light - teasing along the edge of his shorts.

His hand slipped around your waist, palm warm and commanding as it splayed across your stomach. The other followed in a slow, deliberate path - trailing down your side and curving along your hip. Slow and closer.

Then his hand was back just where you needed it - between your legs. His fingers brushed lightly over the delicate fabric of your panties - a touch so soft and careful it sent a tremor through your core.

He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your neck, the heat of his breath ghosting across your skin as he hummed against you, low and satisfied.

It was slow. Deliberate. A kind of torment that built on the ache already simmering inside you - an ache built up and deepened further for each of the long days you’d spent apart. Every teasing stroke over the thin fabric of your underwear sent another wave rolling through you, coaxing the tension higher, almost too intense of a feeling to contain.

Still, he kept moving just as slow - keeping the pressure maddeningly light, never giving you the firm, satisfying contact your body so desperately craved. Frustration welled up, raw and restless. Without even thinking, you arched your hips, trying to meet his hand, to draw out more – just anything.

A chuckle rumbled against your skin, warm and low. “You’re so cute when you’re needy like this,” he murmured, voice thick with teasing amusement.

You let out a breathy, frustrated laugh. “Shut up.”

In response to your desperate movements, he let his arm wrap around your waist even tighter - as to hold you still. His grip was firm, possessive, holding you in place.

And then - finally - he pressed down, slow and deliberate, right over the fabric. The sudden pressure made your breath catch in your throat, a gasp escaping before you could stop it.

“Wow…” he murmured, voice thick with mock surprise and amusement. “Already slipping? We really need to work on keeping you quiet, sweetheart. This is ridiculous.”

Before you could summon a response, he leaned in close, the side of his face brushing yours, his nose grazing your cheek. The intimacy of the gesture was tender in contrast to the slow, relentless movement of his fingers.

“Fuck” you breathed, barely audible, as his hand moved in deliberate, agonizing circles over your soaked panties. Your thighs instinctively clenched around his hand, trying to manage the rising, unbearable pleasure building with each slow rotation of his touch.

Then, with a deep sigh into your ear, he slipped his fingers smoothly past the fabric, in between your wet folds. The sound of it, slick and undeniable, filled the charged silence between you.

He tilted his head, lips near your ear, and whispered with a teasing edge. “Can you hear that, sweetheart? You’re so fucking wet for me already.”

His fingers dipped lower, then gliding back up in slow, deliberate strokes. Each movement was precise, practiced - unraveling you bit by bit. He circled your slit once and then again. You gasped, instinctively, the sound slipping out before you bit down on your lip, hard, trying to contain it.

“Does that feel good?” he murmured against your ear, a low chuckle threading through his words.

“It does” you moaned as you let your head fall even further back against his chest.

“I can tell” he whispered, voice warm and close.

With careful patience, he parted you with his fingers, dragging them over your entrance, lingering there just long enough to make your breath hitch - then sliding back up again, refusing to give you what you were silently begging for.

His middle and index fingers found your clit, drawing slow, deliberate circles that made your thighs tremble. He hummed against your ear, the sound vibrating straight through you.

Then - without warning - he pushed one long finger inside, the intrusion just enough to stretch you, to fill you, to remind your body exactly what it had been aching for. The moan that tore from your throat was loud - too loud – but there was no stopping it.

He laughed softly, startled but amused, and moved quickly. His free hand came straight up, covering your mouth, pressing you gently back into the solid warmth of his shoulder.

“I thought you said you could control yourself?” he teased, voice low and smooth against your temple.

He held you firmly, his hand still pressed over your mouth, as he slipped in a second finger. It immediately stretched you with a slow, purposeful rhythm.

Whatever composure you had left crumbled. You moaned helplessly into his hand, your body betraying you with every ragged breath and twitch of need. He dragged his fingers in and out of you, agonizingly slow. Again and again, exploring the wet depths of you - each movement deep, deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice rough in your ear. “You’re so tight around my fingers. It feels so good when you squeeze me like that.”

And then he curled them - just right - pressing against that spot deep inside that made your legs weaken instantly. Your head dropped back against his shoulder again, a cry slipping out from beneath his hand before you could stop it.

You were already close, so close it hurt. The pleasure was rising fast and hot, and the thought of coming like this out here - loud and uncontrollable - sent an unexpected thrill racing through you.

Then your phone lit up.

It buzzed once on the table beside you. Then again. And again.

You barely registered the sound at first, hazy with pleasure, but Luigi leaned over and glanced at the screen, his fingers slowing but never fully leaving you.

“It’s Celine,” he murmured against your ear. “She’s texting you.”

Reluctantly, you reached for the phone, sighing in frustration as you read the messages, still breathless.

Celine: Seriously?? U know we can hear you, right??
Celine: It’s pretty obvious at this point you’re getting off on this shit
Celine: At least Luigi knows how to control his volume
Celine: Jesus fucking Christ

Luigi let out a low, amused laugh as he read over your shoulder. You smiled, rolling your eyes, and tossed the phone back onto the table without replying.

Down on the patio below, Celine cranked the music up, the bass thudding through the air.

You both burst out laughing, the moment shifting, easing into something warm and private between you.

“Want to go inside?” he asked between lazy kisses trailing down your neck.

“Mhm,” you breathed, your body still humming from his touch.

He sat up on the lounger, the muscles in his arms shifting as he moved. With practiced ease, he turned you slightly, slipping one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back.

You barely had time to react before he scooted forward with you nestled in his lap - then rose smoothly to his feet, lifting you into his arms as though you weighed nothing at all.

A surprised giggle escaped you, the sudden motion and the intimacy of it catching you off guard.

“Let’s get into the bed,” he said, voice low, breath warm against your cheek. “I need you naked.”

Your heart thudded harder at the way he said it – hungry and completely unapologetic.

He carried you through the open doors, into the dim, cooler air of the bedroom. You wrapped your arms loosely around his shoulders, studying the lines of his face and the quiet intensity of his features.

When he reached the bed, he bent slightly, lowering you gently onto the soft bedding. His lips found yours again as he laid you down, the kiss slow and possessive, full of everything still simmering just beneath the surface.

“This dress needs to go,” he murmured, voice low and filled with quiet hunger as his hands slid beneath the hem.

You lifted your arms instinctively and he slowly pushed the fabric up over your body - his palms skimming your skin as the dress rose higher - until he pulled it over your head in one fluid motion. He tossed it to the side without a second thought, eyes already returning to you.

Since you were not wearing a bra, you were now laying beneath him dressed in nothing but your panties. He hovered over you with a slow, appreciative smile, eyes drinking in every inch of you. Without a word, he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your thighs.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, his eyes moving slowly over every curve of your body. “Even more perfect than I remembered.”

“Stop it,” you laughed softly, the compliment landing with a flutter in your chest.

But he shook his head slightly, the sincerity in his expression silencing your protest.

”I’m serious”.

He leaned over you, his body hovering just close enough to feel the heat of him.

“This perfect neck…” he whispered, placing a kiss just below your ear. “These perfect shoulders…” Another kiss, soft and deliberate, brushed against your skin.

You smiled, your fingers curling lightly into the sheets. He looked so serious, so focused, brows drawn in concentration as he made his way down your body - it almost made you laugh. Almost.

“These perfect tits…” he said, voice rougher now, thick with desire, as he cupped you in his hands. He leaned in to press small, adoring kisses over the swell of each breast, his touch gentle but possessive. “Never seen anything like it.”

You gave a soft, teasing laugh. “I’m sure you’ve seen good boobs before.”

He looked up at you with exaggerated thoughtfulness, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I can’t remember, actually,” he said, eyes dancing with mock innocence. “If I did, it wasn’t anything that left a lasting impression.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggled, pulling him closer by the back of his neck, your laughter melting into a kiss as he grinned against your lips.

He stood up at the edge of the bed, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt. In one smooth motion, he pulled it over his head and let it fall behind him. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips as your eyes took in the sight of him - his broad shoulders, defined chest, firm abs. The familiar lines of his body stirred something deep inside you.

Fuck, you’d missed him.

“You ready for me?” he asked, his voice low, laced with heat and a quiet smirk, as he began to unbutton his pants.

You watched, breath caught somewhere in your chest, as he slid them down, along with his Calvin Klein boxers.

When he finally stood before you completely naked, just the way you needed him - you couldn’t find any words anymore. You just nodded, your pulse beating everywhere at once.

He leaned down slowly, the warmth of his bare skin brushing over yours, and the contact made your body move without thought - arching up to meet him, to feel more.

Then you felt him - the soft head of his dick nudging at your entrance, teasing - and the jolt of anticipation was instant, shooting straight up your spine and leaving your breath caught in your throat.

A low, guttural sound escaped him, almost a moan, as he tucked his face into the curve of your neck, breathing you in.

“Just letting you know,” he said with a short, breathless laugh, “I’m probably not going to last very long.”

You turned your head, catching the half-smile tugging at his mouth.

“I almost came in my pants already… twice,” he added, his voice rough. “Not a lot of restraint left unfortunately.”

You laughed softly, letting your hands roam up his back, fingers pressing into his skin as you pulled him in tighter.

“That makes two of us,” you whispered, your lips brushing his ear.

Then his lips found yours again, messy and hungry - and in just that moment, he finally pushed into you with a single, deep thrust.

It was fast, hard, and so sudden it stole the air from your lungs. You both moaned into the kiss, the sound muffled between your mouths, your breaths tangled.

The sudden, overwhelming stretch of him hit you like a wave - familiar and dizzying, your body arching instinctively to meet him, to take more.

Your hands moved over his skin desperate hunger. The feeling of him inside of you again was everything you needed. There was nothing careful or slow about the way you touched each other, there was only need. Messy, urgent, consuming. Your bodies needed each other.

You clung to him as he moved inside you, his hips setting a rhythm that was powerful, unrelenting, each motion drawing a gasp from deep in your throat. His mouth trailed from your lips to your jaw, down your neck, hot breath grazing your skin.

"Fuck… you take me so well, baby," he groaned, his voice rough, reverent. He pressed into you again, harder this time, as if trying to reach someplace deeper than your body.

A cry slipped from your lips, raw and unfiltered, as your head fell back against the sheets. The rhythm of his body moving against yours was overwhelming - powerful and precise. As always, he knew exactly how to unravel you.

Then, just for a breath, he stilled.

Without speaking, he reached for a pillow, and with one strong arm wrapped beneath you, he lifted your hips and slid it underneath. The motion was fluid, gentle, almost reverent. The shift in angle changed everything. You gasped before he even moved again, your body already tense, already aching in anticipation.

And then - he was there again.

Deeper. Somehow deeper than before. The sensation stole every coherent thought from your mind.

Your eyes fluttered shut, lips parting around a moan that spilled out before you could stop it. The edge of pain met the sharp, electric pull of pleasure, tangled so tightly you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. You felt him press deeper, hitting that limit inside you, right up against your cervix - and the sensation was almost too much. Almost.

Your back arched instinctively, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as the new angle sent shockwaves through you. The intensity of it left you wide open and breathless.

“Shit…” he murmured, his voice strained with need, his lips brushing your temple. “You make the prettiest sounds when I go deep like this.”

The pleasure built too fast, rising like a tide you couldn’t hold back. Your body trembled beneath him, breath catching in short, uneven gasps, every nerve alive with sensation.

You were already so close - too close - and instinct took over as your hips lifted to meet him, chasing that final edge.

“Baby,” you panted, voice ragged and trembling, “please… go faster. I’m - I'm about to come.”

He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. And then, deliberately, he slowed - dragging each stroke out deep and slow, a tormenting rhythm that made you curse the space between every thrust.

“Didn’t quite catch that,” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “Did you say you wanted me to go slower?”

“Fuck you,” you groaned, the words a breathy mix of a moan and a laugh, your frustration tangled with the pleasure he so clearly knew how to wield.

He leaned down again, catching your mouth in a kiss that was all heat and hunger - no more teasing, just pure need. And then, he started to move faster. The way you’d begged for.

And this time, he didn’t hold back.

He began driving into you with a rhythm that stole the air from your lungs – deep and hard. Each thrust landed with purpose, his hands grabbing your hips to hold you in place, angling you just right. The shift made him feel impossibly deep, every movement brushing against that spot that made you unravel a little more with each second.

“Fuck, baby - ” you gasped, the words tearing out of you louder than intended, but you couldn’t hold them back. You couldn’t hold anything back.

And then it hit.

The orgasm crashed through you – sharp and intense. Your back arched off the bed, fingers digging into his shoulders as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through you, raw and unstoppable.

The world dropped away for a moment, and all that remained was him, your body pulsing around him, trembling. You collapsed beneath him, breathless and shaking, every nerve lit up and humming.

Luigi groaned against your neck, his thrusts faltering as he chased your release. A few more deep movements, and then he stilled, breath catching in his throat as he let go - his body pressing down against yours, heavy and warm, the tension draining out of him with each exhale.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Just the quiet sound of your breathing, heartbeats pounding in sync.

You both laughed softly, breaths still uneven, your chests rising and falling against each other in the afterglow. The air between you was warm, laced with the scent of skin and something deeper - something that felt like home.

With one smooth motion, Luigi slid the pillow out from beneath you, shifting your hips as he did, though he remained inside you - still thick, still pulsing. The sensation made your breath catch again, a subtle aftershock rippling through you.

“I told you I wouldn’t take long,” he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looked down at you, still breathless beneath him.

You smiled, dazed and content, your fingers drifting in lazy patterns along the line of his spine. “That felt amazing, baby,” you breathed. “I came so hard.”

His grin softened, the cockiness melting into something warmer. He leaned in, brushing a kiss over your collarbone, then trailing up to your jaw - gentle now, almost reverent.

“Yeah?” he whispered against your skin. “You were incredible. I felt everything.”

You pulled him closer, legs loosely wrapping around his waist, not quite ready to let go of the closeness just yet.

“I hated being away from you,” he murmured, his voice suddenly quieter, stripped of the earlier playfulness. “It was the worst feeling.”

Your heart thudded hard in your chest. His honesty hit you somewhere deep.

“I hated it too,” you whispered. “It shocked me, honestly - how much. I kept thinking about you all the time. Everything felt off without you. The bed felt too big. Empty. I didn’t know I’d grown so dependent of you in such a short time. I couldn’t function without you”.

Your eyes met and held, the world narrowing to nothing but that gaze. His gorgeous hazel eyes, the long lashes fluttered as he blinked - still, you couldn’t help but to drown in the ocean of his stare.

“How lucky are we,” he murmured with a soft smile. “To have something that makes time apart so hard?”

A silence came in between you, raw and intimate - charged with something deeper than lust. Your warm bodies, him still inside of you. You still tensing around him in the aftermath of your orgasm.

He exhaled slowly, his chest pressing against yours as he kept looking at you.

“I’m so desperately yours,” he whispered, voice rough with feeling. “Do you know that? I belong to you. It’s just… the truth.”

You let out a breath, caught between a sob and a sigh, fingers reaching up to trace the line of his jaw.

“Do you understand how much I love you?” he continued, urgent now, not letting you look away. “I don’t think I even knew how much until I couldn’t touch you. Do you understand how much I need you?”

His lips met yours again in a kiss, slow and warm. And then he started moving again.

Subtly at first, you weren’t sure if you imagined it. But then you could feel it – the slow, determined rolling of his hips. He was getting hard again inside of you.

You clung to him, gasping softly, heart full.

“I want everything with you,” he whispered against your mouth. “Everything.”

The sensation of him growing big and hard inside of you again sent a ripple through your entire body, and you gasped softly, unable to help the way your body responded - tightening around him, wanting him.

“More than anything,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “I want to give you everything that you want. Everything you need, always.”

His words melted into a quiet moan as his hips continued to move - slow, deep, deliberate. It wasn’t rushed, not anymore. This time, it felt like something else entirely. A plea not to let go.

“Just say you’re mine,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he buried his face against your neck. “Please say I get to have this forever. That I get to keep you.”

His voice cracked, and the sound of it hit you harder than any touch.

There was something raw in the way he said it, and the desperation in it hit you like a wave - undeniable, bone-deep.

You could feel his heartbeat in every inch of where your bodies met. Your breath caught, your fingers tightening around him instinctively - because you felt it too. The want. The fear.

Your chest tightened from the sheer weight of how much you loved him.

You reached up and cupped his face, fingers trembling as they brushed along his jaw. He leaned into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I’m yours,” you whispered. “And yes – you do get to keep me forever.”

His eyes searched yours for a moment, like he needed to be absolutely sure - that this wasn’t just the afterglow or a fleeting high.

And when you saw it - all of it - in his gaze. Something in him suddenly shattered. Or maybe healed.

He let out a broken breath and kissed you again - soft, slow. He rested his forehead against yours, and you could feel the tension leaving his body.

“I don’t ever want to be without you,” he murmured. “You’re the only place I’ve ever felt safe.”

You didn’t need to say anything else. You simply held him, as he continued to move his hips slowly into yours, like he was sealing something between you. A pact in breath, skin, and soul.

The feeling building inside you this time was different - deeper, slower, something that stretched far beyond mere physical pleasure. He moved with a quiet intensity, each thrust deliberate and unhurried.

The heat between you grew gradually, curling low and warm, rising with every slow pass of his hips. But it wasn’t just the rhythm that unraveled you - it was the way he looked at you, as though he was trying to memorize the very shape of your love - every sigh, every heartbeat.

The agonizingly slow rhythm of your bodies moving together only heightened the raw intimacy between you, igniting a fire you hadn’t seen coming - almost aching with need.

Sex with him was always incredible, but this - this was breathtaking in its intensity, utterly consuming. It turned you on in a way you didn’t expect.

The deliberate slowness made every movement feel primal, each stroke heavy with meaning, and you could feel all of him pressed against your walls, every inch of him impossible close.

The slow build wasn’t just physical - your deep need for him almost became uncontrollable.

At first, the feeling was unfamiliar - nothing like the way the build-up to an orgasm had felt before. Still tender from your first orgasm, he somehow managed to touch those deep, hidden places inside you that sent the climax building from deep within, radiating outward in slow, powerful waves.

You barely understood what was happening, but suddenly your whole body began to tremble, shivering uncontrollably under his touch.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, holding you tight and close without breaking his rhythm. “Just relax.”

Did he know exactly what he was doing to you? Was this all intentional?

The shivers took over your entire body. You felt yourself losing control - your limbs growing heavy and unsteady as the waves built higher and higher.

Then it happened.

The orgasm absolutely crashed through you – deep and all-consuming. It wasn’t just pleasure. It was surrender. It was like a flood, an overwhelming rush that left you gasping, trembling, and utterly undone.

He held you firmly, his chest rising and falling against yours as you trembled, steady and reassuring. Anchoring you.

Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, but your heart felt strangely calm, soothed by the quiet strength of his presence. In that moment, nothing else existed. No worries, no fears. Just the two of you.