Flight risk. [h.s]

040.

hi... if you're still here, I want to say thank you for sticking with me. this is the longest I've ever gone with out updating and I honestly don't even know what happened. 

i found myself feeling really inadequate and like my writing didn't meet expectations or match other standards.

please bear with me, I'm still trying to get back into the siwng of it but ily and i am determined to finish arls and harry's story.

el <3

TW- talks of drug addiction and death via overdose! 

★

Being a newlywed has been better than I thought it would be.

The past week and a half that has passed since Harry and I got married has been the best of my life. The two of us have done nothing besides explore little secluded Italian towns, eat yummy food, stargaze, swim in the warm lakes and have more sex than I thought was even possible.

But, seriously, I'm so sure that my vagina is having some sort of existential crisis because, for the past ten days, Harry and I have been going at it like horny teenagers in a sex club.

Laying, my head rests against Harry's chest, a prominent and uncomfortable ache between my legs. It hurts with every movement that I make during my sleep but weirdly not in a horrific way. It kind of feels nice, pleasurable in a way.

Just like the strange feeling of poking a bruise. It feels bizarrely good.

I'm half awake, rising earlier than Harry like normal. I hook my thigh up over his and wince at the painful movement that reverberates up my pelvis. Snuggling closer to him, I breathe in the smell of musky sweat from last night and the lingering traces of vanilla from his aftershave.

Sleeping peacefully beside me, his chest rises and falls so slowly that it barely moves. One hand of his is stretched out under the curve of my neck, laying flat across the mattress while the other is sprawled over his bare stomach. His fingers are closer to the inking of his butterfly tattoo.

The gold wedding band sits proudly on his finger, a little bit lifted from the base so I slowly lift my hand up and swirl the ring around his finger.

It suits him.

But then again I am biased.

This blissful little bubble that we have been living in where it's been just the two of us is going to have to pop at some point and while I have this awareness, I'm not ready for it to burst.

Today, we head back to work. But, at least our work is together.

We're attending the Venice film festival, so instead of Harry's Italian villa tucked away in the country we are holed up in some hotel in Venice.