#Buongiorno speciale

[perfettamentechic]

Il Buongiorno del 24 dicembre, giorno della Vigilia di Natale, merita di essere speciale.

Il Buongiorno del 24 dicembre, giorno della Vigilia di Natale, merita di essere speciale. #vigiliadinatale #auguribuonavigilia #perfettamentechic

Buongiorno! È finalmente arrivata la Vigilia di Natale! Che questa giornata sia piena di gioia, amore e momenti speciali da condividere con i tuoi cari. Buone feste! 🎄✨ Autore: Lynda Di Natale Immagine: IA

[elenascrive]

E adesso giuro che per Me Voi siete veramente delle Persone Speciali, poiché chiunque mi dona un po’ del proprio prezioso tempo e soprattutto un po’ del Suo Pregiato Cuore non può che essere considerato tale. 😍❤️

@elenascrive

[mariclerc]

Farm love | cl16

Summary: where your family farm serves as a set to film a Ferrari challenge.

Warning: fluff, shy reader, Charles being such a curious person, farm girl!reader.

The Tuscan sun beat down on the rolling hills, a vibrant canvas of gold and green stretching as far as the eye could see, the air hummed with the low drone of a helicopter circling overhead, a stark contrast to the usual peaceful quietude of your family farm. Today, however, was anything but usual, because your father, ever the pragmatist, had secured a filming opportunity with the Ferrari team, it was a challenge for their YouTube channel and social media, a decision that had initially filled you with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

You loved the farm, loved the rhythm of rural life, loved the animals. It was your sanctuary, your refuge from the noise and chaos of the outside world. The thought of a horde of camera crews and high-profile racing drivers invading your peaceful haven had made you somewhat anxious, so you decided to stay away from the filming and just watch from afar.

You found a quiet spot near the old stone barn, a vantage point that offered a clear view of the activity without requiring any direct interaction. You were perfectly content observing the chaos from afar, you were comfortable being alone.

The filming was in full swing, a chaotic ballet of camera crews, technicians, and the Ferrari drivers themselves. They moved with an almost otherworldly grace and precision on the track, but here, in the rustic setting of your family farm, their usual poise seemed to falter, they looked much less comfortable, less composed, but it was funny to see their reactions.

You're gently brushing a horse's mane, a bucket of apples nearby while Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz are struggling with some farm task—let's say milking a goat. Your father, a jovial man, is giving them instructions in rapid-fire Italian.

“Mamma mia... they look so lost.” you say quietly to yourself.

Charles, wiping sweat from his brow, accidentally bumps into a nearby hay bale, sending it tumbling.

“Charles! Careful!” Carlos says.

Charles laughs nervously. “Sorry, Carlos! This goat... she's... feisty!”

Your father, in rapid Italian, gestures wildly with his hands, Charles and Carlos look utterly bewildered. “Ma che state facendo?! Così non si fa! Prendete la cosa giusta!” (What are you doing?! That's not how you do it! Grab the right thing!)

You hesitantly approach, clutching a bucket of apples, you're still quite shy. “Scusi...” you say softly in Italian. (Excuse me...)

Charles and Carlos turn, surprised. Charles is particularly captivated by your presence.

“Ah, buongiorno!” he says a little awkwardly in Italian. (Good morning!)

“Buongiorno...” (Good morning...) “My father... he’s just...” you gesture vaguely towards your father. “Perhaps I could help?”

Carlos sighed. “Oh, grazie! To be honest, we're completely lost!”

Your Father grins. “Ah, finalmente!” (Finally!) he explains the task in simple Italian. “This is how you milk a goat properly! See? Gently and steady…”

You demonstrate the process calmly and efficiently. Charles and Carlos watch, mouths slightly agape.

“Wow… that was... so elegant.” Charles says in a whisper.

You blushed. “Oh, it’s nothing special. I’ve been doing this since I was little.”

“We’ve been trying for ages! It's like we have two left hands.” Carlos said and you giggled.

You continue to guide them gently, your touch light and assured. Charles is particularly attentive, watching your every move.

“You're so… graceful.” says Charles quietly and you blush even deeper, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, it’s just... I like animals… it’s just...” you say stammering a little.

Carlos nodded at your words. “It's clear you love them. They seem to love you back!”

After a while, they finally manage to milk the goat successfully, mostly thanks to your guidance.

Your father beams. “Bravi!” (Well done!) he claps Charles and Carlos on the back. “You were hopeless until she showed you the way!” he gestures towards you.

Charles smiles at you. “She's a natural. A true miracle worker.”

Later, after filming wraps up, your father offers them some homemade limoncello.

Charles sighs contently. “This has been...an amazing experience! I didn’t expect to learn so much about goat milking today.” he giggled.

You smiled shyly. “It was my pleasure to help with your challenge video!”

“I'm Charles, by the way. And this is Carlos.” he says while smiling softly.

“I'm y/n. It was nice to meet you both!” Charles extends his hand, you shake it gently, feeling a spark of connection.

After a while, the Ferrari team and Carlos have left, and Charles is lingering, showing genuine interest in your family farm, you're cleaning out a rabbit hutch while Charles is leaning against the fence, watching intently. The sun is beginning to set, casting long shadows across the fields.

You smile slightly. “Everything's cleaned up now.” you whispered softly.

“That's amazing how organized you are! And so gentle with the animals! I've never seen anything quite like it.” Charles said.

You shuggered. “It's just… habit I guess.”

Suddenly Charles approaches you. “Tell me more about the farm. Your family has been here for generations, right? Your father mentioned it earlier.” he said softly.

You nodded. “Yes, for over three hundred years. Each generation has done its part to maintain the farm. My grandfather taught my father, and my father taught me... It's a long history.”

Charles point to a small stone structure. “What is that?”

“Oh, that’s our old well. My great-grandfather used to draw water from it... It’s still working but we use a pump now.”

“That sounds amazing! Could I see it closer?” he says, somewhat intrigued.

You nod and you lead him to the well, explaining its history and the stories associated with it. He listens intently, asking insightful questions, remembering details.

“This farm is more than just a place, it’s in my blood, it's who I am. The land speaks to me, so to say... Every stone, every tree, every animal, it’s a living history.” you say thoughtful.

He nods. “I can feel it, there's a tranquility here, a peace... It's a world away from the noise and pressure of Formula 1.” you giggled.

You both walk towards the sheep pen. Charles watches you interact with the sheep, his gaze is soft and admiring.

“You have such a special gift, y/n. A connection with nature... A lot of people just don’t have that.” he says in a soft whisper.

You blush lightly, looking away. “It’s just…” you murmured quite embarrassed. “It's just normal for me, you know?” you say softly.

He cuts you gently. “No, no, it’s special... Truly, it's something so beautiful to witness.”

He stays for a long time, helping you feed the animals, asking questions about the various breeds, the farming techniques, the challenges of maintaining the land, and the history of your family. He shows a genuine interest, far beyond simple politeness.

Charles smiles as he watches the sunset. “The light is so beautiful here, I've never seen a sunset quite like this.”

You both stand in silence for a few moments, admiring the view.

He turns towards you, a wistful look in his eyes. “I could stay here forever.” he says softly, he gently touches your arm, a hesitant touch that speaks volumes, but you don't pull away.

“Me too.” you say softly.

He takes a deep breath, the scent of the countryside filling his lungs. “Thank you for sharing this with me, y/n. It's… more than I could have ever imagined.”

You smile warmly at him. “Anytime you want, Charles.”

He stays until the last sliver of sun disappears below the horizon, he's completely enchanted by your world, your family's history, and you.

“I should go back to the city. But... I'll see you again, right?”

You smile again. “Of course.”

He leaves the farm, but it feels different. It's not just a goodbye; it's a promise of something more.

***

A couple of months later, you're tending your vegetable garden, your four kittens playfully weaving between your legs. The sun is warm, the air fragrant with the scent of ripe tomatoes and basil. It's been like two months since the visit of the Ferrari drivers to the farm, in particular, since Charles' interest in you and your family.

You chuckled, as a kitten bats at a juicy-looking tomato. “Oh be careful, you little bandit! Those are for dinner!” you giggled at their antics.

You're humming a gentle tune, your movements fluid and practiced as you weed between the rows of lettuce. Suddenly, the familiar hum of a powerful engine breaks the quiet. You look up to see a sleek, dark car approaching the farm, your heart quickens as you recognize the car...

A moment later, Charles emerges, looking relaxed and happy. He's dressed casually—jeans, and a simple white shirt—but his smile is as bright as ever. The little kittens, sensing a new presence, start to cautiously approach, their tails held high.

“Charles! What a surprise! What brings you here?” you say slightly surprised.

He grins. “Hi y/n! I thought I'd surprise you, I had a few days off, and… well, I couldn't resist coming to see you, and the farm... And the little kittens, of course!” he giggles.

He kneels down, gently stroking one of the kittens, the kitten purrs contentedly. Charles spends a considerable amount of time helping you in the garden, his presence as comfortable and natural as if he'd been a regular visitor for years.

“This one's a tough customer, huh?” he says while carefully pulling a weed.

“These weeds are tenacious! We've been battling them for weeks!” you say while sighing.

You and Charles work side-by-side, chatting easily about the garden, the animals, and the challenges of farming. He asks about the different plants, showing a genuine curiosity and understanding of the intricacies of gardening. His questions are detailed and insightful, not just polite inquiries.

“I'm still amazed at the amount of precision and planning this requires. It’s like a strategic race—nurturing the land and your plants to be perfectly timed!” he says amazed.

You share a laugh, recognizing the parallel between his world of precision racing and the meticulous care needed for a thriving garden.

As the afternoon wears on, the sun begins to dip lower in the sky. The light softens, turning the garden into a picture-perfect scene. You gather the harvest, Charles assisting with a natural grace and skill. He’s become comfortable with this simple work, a welcome change from the pressure of his racing career.

“Look at this! A true champion of the garden!” he says while holding up a particularly plump tomato. “What a beauty!” he smiled so widely.

You both laugh, sharing a moment of easy camaraderie and understanding. At one point, while you were tending to the little goats, you can see how he walks towards you and brought you flowers, a simple bouquet of wildflowers gathered from a nearby field, a sweet and thoughtful gesture that speaks volumes, your cheeks blush a bit too much.

Later that afternoon, your father returns from the fields. He sees Charles sitting with you on the porch, chatting amiably and sees the little bouquet of wildflowers on your lap. He stops dead in his tracks, his jaw slightly agape. His usual jovial expression is replaced by a mixture of surprise and, you suspect, slight apprehension.

“Charles? Ma che…? (But what…?) What in the world are you doing here?” your father says in a slightly incredulous tone.

Charles stands up, he smiles brightly. “Oh, buongiorno, Signor! I hope I'm not intruding, I'm just spending some time helping y/n in the garden.”

Your father is visibly taken aback, he wasn't expecting to see the famous Formula 1 driver, a global superstar, on your humble family farm, again. He stares at Charles for a long moment, a mixture of disbelief and suspicion clear on his face.

“I… I mean, it's certainly… unexpected.” he gestures vaguely towards the garden. “You're… helping with the vegetables?”

Charles smiles. “Yes, I am! It's fascinating work, i've learned so much from y/n. I know it's a different kind of challenge, but equally rewarding. It requires a different kind of precision and, well, I’m surprisingly good at weeding.” he giggled softly.

Your father looks from you to Charles, his expression slowly softening. He's observing your easy interaction, noting the genuine connection and mutual respect between you two. He's seeing a side of you daughter he hasn't seen before—a confident, independent woman who's clearly capturing the attention of someone far above her social standing.

“Well... It’s... good to see you.” he says a little less stiff. “Perhaps you could join us for dinner? My wife made her special lasagna.”

Charles readily accepts the invitation, his smile widening. Your father, still somewhat flustered but visibly thawing, gestures towards the farmhouse. As the three of you head towards the house, your father glances back at the garden. He sees you and Charles talking, your laughter echoing softly in the evening air. A look of understanding, perhaps even pride, appears on his face, he accepts that this seemingly unlikely connection may be stronger than he initially thought.

The farmhouse is warm and inviting, filled with the delicious aroma of your mother's lasagna. Charles is seated at the table, chatting animatedly with your father, who’s surprisingly relaxed and friendly. Your mother is bustling about, her face beaming with pride and hospitality.

“…and then, the tractor broke down just as we were harvesting the wheat! It took three hours to fix it!” your father gestures with a flourish and Charles laughed soundly.

“That sounds like a real challenge! A very different kind of race against time!”

Your mother places a steaming dish of lasagna in front of Charles, a generous portion. He compliments her cooking in Italian, his words sincere and heartfelt, your mother beams, clearly pleased.

“Thank you, Charles. I’m so glad you could join us for dinner. We rarely have guests, especially guests as… distinguished as you.”

You and Charles exchange a knowing smile, the atmosphere is warm and convivial. The initial surprise and apprehension have given way to a comfortable, relaxed feeling. The conversations flows easily between you, your parents, and Charles. He displays a genuine interest in your family’s history, asking questions about the farm's evolution, the challenges faced over generations, and the traditions that have been passed down.

“I’ve never been on a farm before, I’ve always been in big cities. But this… this is incredible! The sense of history, the connection to the land… it's truly remarkable.” he says while he drinks a little bit of wine.

Your father, proud and slightly boastful, launches into a detailed account of the farm’s history, tracing its lineage back centuries. He speaks passionately, sharing stories of his ancestors, their struggles and triumphs, the changes they've witnessed in the land and in the world.

“…and my grandfather, he always said the land tells its own stories. You just have to listen carefully.” you father said.

Charles nodded. “I can see that, It's like reading a book, but the chapters are written in the seasons, the growth of the plants, the changing landscape.”

The conversation shifts to the current challenges facing the farm – climate change, fluctuating market prices, the difficulty of attracting younger generations to farming. Charles listens attentively, offering thoughtful insights and questions, demonstrating his intelligence and empathy goes beyond the racetrack.

“It’s remarkable how many parallels there are between farming and Formula 1. Both require meticulous planning, adaptability to changing circumstances, and an understanding of the systems involved. And both, ultimately, depend on teamwork.”

Your mother adds to the conversation, sharing stories of her own childhood on the farm and the challenges of balancing family life with the demands of farm work. Charles listens with genuine interest, showing his respect for her resilience and the traditional values she represents.

The meal extends into a long, leisurely affair, the initial tension between Charles, a global superstar, and your family, rooted in their simple, traditional life, gradually dissipates, Charles effortlessly integrates into the family dynamic, engaging in lighthearted banter with your father and sharing stories from his life that reveal a depth and vulnerability rarely seen in public. He speaks of his close-knit family, his childhood in Monaco, and the demanding but rewarding world of Formula 1, offering candid reflections on his career.

You find yourself observing Charles with renewed appreciation, his genuine interest in your family and their lives goes far beyond simple politeness. You see a different side of him here, away from the pressure and scrutiny of the public eye, a side that is warm, humble, and deeply thoughtful. He listens intently when your mother speaks, his eyes reflecting sincere interest.

As the evening draws to a close, a sense of warmth and connection pervades the room. The meal has transcended its function; it's become a sharing of lives, a bridging of worlds. You and your family are captivated by Charles, not just by his fame, but by his humility, intelligence, and genuine kindness.

***

Several months have passed, and Charles' visits to the farm after race weeks have become a regular part of your life, his presence is as familiar and comforting as the scent of hay and blooming wildflowers. Today, however, your family has gone to the local market, leaving you, Charles, and the menagerie of farm animals – including the four playful kittens and a fluffy family of bunnies – entirely alone.

You and Charles are working in the barn, a symphony of gentle sounds filling the air: the soft bleating of sheep, the contented mooing of cows, the chirping of crickets, and the playful mewing of the kittens as they chase a particularly plump bunny.

Charles is expertly tending to a newborn lamb, his touch gentle and assured. You are cleaning the goat pens, your movements fluid and practiced. The atmosphere is calm, intimate, and filled with a comfortable silence that speaks volumes about the connection that has grown between you.

As you finish your work, you notice Charles watching you, a soft smile playing on his lips, he sets down the lamb, carefully tucking it back with its mother. He walks towards you, his gaze warm and tender.

“You're amazing with these animals, you have a gift.” he says softly.

You smile. “You always say that, but yeah, they’re pretty easy to work with. They respond to kindness and patience, just like people.”

He steps closer, his hand gently brushing yours, the touch sparks a warmth that spreads through you, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings that have blossomed between you. The playful energy of earlier months has given way to a deeper, more intimate connection. The playful sounds of the animals seem to fade into the background, replaced by a palpable tension that hums in the air.

“I love being here with you. With all of this scenery… It feels… so right.” he says with a soft voice, his eyes filled with a tenderness you've come to cherish.

He gently takes your face in his hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. His gaze is intense, filled with a longing that mirrors your own. The barn, usually a space of bustling activity, is still and quiet, your connection the only thing that matters.

He leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that is slow, tender, and deeply felt... It's a kiss that is as soft and gentle as the caress of a summer breeze, a kiss that speaks volumes about the trust, intimacy, and affection that has grown between you over the months. The animals seem to sense the intimacy of the moment, their movements softening, their sounds mellowing.

The kiss deepens, a culmination of shared moments, quiet conversations, and a growing bond that has blossomed amidst the simple beauty of farm life. It is a kiss that is as natural and unhurried as the rising and setting of the sun.

After the kiss, you and Charles continue to work together, your movements effortless and harmonious. You share quiet moments of laughter and conversation, interspersed with periods of peaceful silence. The animals seem to sense your happiness, their presence adding to the idyllic atmosphere.

As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows across the barn, you and Charles find yourselves sharing a quiet meal—rustic bread, cheese, and fresh fruit—in the hayloft. The setting sun paints the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink, a picturesque backdrop to the intimate moment.

The meal ends, and a comfortable silence settles between you. The scent of hay, earth, the gentle breeze and the soft sounds of the sleeping animals lull them into a state of quiet contentment. Exhausted but content, you two fall asleep nestled together amidst the soft hay, your bodies close, your breathing synchronized. Your shared connection is palpable, a quiet harmony that transcends words.

The next morning, your parents enter the barn to complete their early morning chores. They stumble upon you and Charles, fast asleep in the hayloft, your bodies intertwined in a gentle embrace. The scene is idyllic, innocent, and undeniably romantic. Your parents share a knowing smile, a mixture of surprise and quiet happiness in their eyes. They carefully tiptoe out, leaving you undisturbed, understanding the unspoken language of love and happiness.

You stir, feeling the warmth of Charles's arm around you. The scent of hay and earth is comforting, a familiar fragrance that speaks of peaceful mornings on the farm. You open your eyes slowly, your gaze falling upon Charles's sleeping face.

He looks peaceful, his features softened by sleep, the usual intensity in his eyes replaced by a gentle calmness. A faint smile plays on his lips. You gently brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead, your touch light and tender. The simple gesture speaks volumes about the intimacy that has quietly blossomed between you.

You study his face, your heart swelling with a quiet affection. The shared laughter, quiet conversations, and unspoken understanding of the past months have led to this intimate moment, a testament to the bond that has grown between you. The world outside the barn fades away, leaving only the two of you and the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Charles stirs, his eyelids fluttering open. He gazes at you, his eyes slowly focusing, recognition dawning in their depths. A gentle smile spreads across his face, a silent acknowledgment of the tenderness of the moment.

“Morning.” he says with his voice husky with sleep.

You smile softly at him. “Morning.”

A comfortable silence settles between you, punctuated only by the soft sounds of the awakening farm—the gentle bleating of sheep, the contented mooing of cows, and the chirping of crickets. These familiar sounds create a tranquil backdrop to your intimate moment.

Charles gently pulls you closer, his arm encircling you. You snuggle against him, the warmth of his body a comforting presence. The hayloft, usually a space of hard work and practicality, has become a sanctuary, a private haven where your connection can flourish without pressure or expectation.

You spend several moments in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other's presence. The simplicity of the moment is profoundly moving, a testament to the deep bond that has grown between you. You feel utterly content, safe, and loved.

Charles breaks the silence, his voice low and intimate. “You know? I didn't want to wake up.”

You laugh softly. “Me neither.”

He gently strokes your hair, his touch lingering on your cheek. The gesture is simple, yet speaks volumes about the affection and tenderness he feels for you. The intimacy of the moment is palpable, a shared understanding that transcends words.

Charles continues, his voice laced with a vulnerability you've rarely seen in him. “This… this is something special. Being here, with you, away from… everything else.”

You nodded. “I know. It’s… different here. It’s just us, the animals, the farm. No pressure, no expectations… just peace.”

He kisses your forehead gently, his touch lingering. His eyes reflect a deep love and affection that is both reassuring and profoundly moving.

As the sun rises higher, casting a warm glow through the barn, you and Charles begin to move, your movements tentative yet intimate, a silent acknowledgment of the closeness you share. You help each other out of the hayloft, your laughter echoing softly in the quiet barn.

As you descend from the hayloft, you take a moment to appreciate the sight of the barn, the sun now fully illuminates the space, showcasing the dust motes dancing in the golden light beams. The familiar scents of hay and earth create a comforting atmosphere that embodies the simplicity and tranquility of farm life. The sounds of the farm, once merely a background hum, are now more distinct—the gentle bleating of lambs, the quiet mooing of cows, and the occasional chirping of birds—all harmonizing in a symphony of nature's gentle rhythm.

You and Charles walk hand-in-hand towards the farmhouse, the morning light illuminating the path. The familiar surroundings create a sense of peace and belonging, the rhythmic sounds of your footsteps on the dirt path and the comfortable silence between you create a tranquil and intimate atmosphere.

As you enter the farmhouse, you are enveloped in a wave of warmth and familiar scents. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baking bread fills the air, creating a welcoming and comforting atmosphere. Your mother is humming softly, busily preparing breakfast in the kitchen. The sight of her warm smile and the inviting atmosphere instantly dispel any lingering awkwardness from the previous night’s events.

“Good morning, you two sleepyheads! I was wondering when you’d finally appear! Breakfast is almost ready.” you mother says kindly.

Your mother’s welcoming smile puts you at ease, her warmth enveloping you in a comforting embrace. There’s no judgment, only a quiet understanding in her eyes. This unspoken acceptance reinforces the sense of belonging and peace that permeates the atmosphere of your family home.

You and Charles join your mother in the kitchen, engaging in lighthearted conversation. The breakfast is simple but delicious—freshly baked bread, homemade jam, strong coffee, and a bowl of fresh fruit. The conversation is easy, flowing naturally from farm gossip to Charles's racing career, to your dreams and plans for the future, the atmosphere is relaxed, intimate, and filled with love.

Charles engages with your mother, effortlessly sharing anecdotes from his life while listening intently to her stories of farm life. His genuine interest and respectful demeanor are endearing, further solidifying his place within your family's circle.

As you eat breakfast, the conversation turns to more intimate topics, exploring your hopes and dreams for the future, your shared desire to build a life together. Charles' candidness and vulnerability showcase a depth of feeling that surpasses his usually reserved public persona.

***

A couple of days after that, you and Charles are together, feeding the farm animals, working together, gently handing hay to a group of sheep. You're laughing softly, a comfortable silence between you punctuated by the sounds of bleating sheep and clucking chickens. As the days and months have passed, you have seen how Charles has become accustomed to farm work, which is a huge difference from racing,

He smiles as he chases the chickens that come towards you. “They seem to like you! They’re usually a bit more… skittish.”

You blushed. “Oh, I think it’s just that I’m gentle. You know, my parents always taught me to be kind to animals.”

He watches you as you interact with the animals, a tender look in his eyes. “I love that about you, so kind, sweet and gentle.” he whispered, he paused a bit, then speaks, his voice slightly hesitant. “I was thinking… about something... Something important.”

You look at him, a little surprised. You’ve been having a wonderful time at the farm with him, but this shift in tone has you slightly apprehensive.

“Oh, what is it?” you say slightly nervous.

He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, my family… they’re very important to me. My mum, Pascale, and my brothers, Lorenzo and Arthur... They mean the world to me.” he says softly.

You nod, understanding dawning on you. “Yes, I know. You've told me about them, they sound wonderful.”

He nodded back. ”They are... And... I want you to meet them.” he whispered.

You pause, your heart fluttering. The thought of meeting his family is both exciting and terrifying, a mixture of anticipation and nerves.

“Oh… wow. That’s…” you pause, searching for the right words, slightly overwhelmed. “That's quite a big step, isn’t it?”

He takes your hand, his touch gentle and reassuring. “It is, I know it is, but I really want you to. I… I really like you, y/n. A lot, more than a lot if I'm honest.”

You blush deeply, looking down at your hands which are now clasped with his. “I like you too, Charles. A lot! But… I’m so shy, I’m worried I’ll make a fool of myself.” you whispered.

He smiles, his expression filled with warmth and affection. “You won’t, my little bird. They’ll love you, I know, I’ve told them all about you, of course... I mean, who wouldn't want to meet the amazing girl who can handle sheep better than I can?” he laughed.

You giggle, feeling your nerves ease slightly under his reassuring words. “That’s sweet of you to say. But still... it's a lot.”

He kisses your hand lightly. “I know, but it’s important to me. They’re a big part of my life, and... I want you to be, too.”

Later that evening, after dinner at the farmhouse, Charles approaches your father in the garden. He looks very nervous, even has shaking hands.

“Buonasera, signor. It’s… it's lovely to see you.” he says softly. (good night sir)

Your father smiles warmly. “Oh Charles, good to see you too. Cosa ti viene offerto, figliolo?” he says. (what can I do for you, son?)

“Thank you, sir. Ehm... Actually… that’s why I’m here, there’s… something I wanted to ask you.” Charles said softly, while fidgets with his hands, his nervousness evident. “It's about y/n and I…” he sighed. “You know that we’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months now. And… things are going very well between us, and I… I really care for her. More than words can say.”

Your father listens attentively, a thoughtful expression on his face. He’s a wise man who sees his daughter’s happiness is important.

Your father nods slowly. “Oh yes! I’ve noticed that, she seems so happy and carefree when you're around her.” he says.

Charles smiled and took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “And well... I was wondering… if you would…” he scratches the back of his neck. “If you would give me permission to… to take her out on a date? A proper one! You know... To officially ask her out... And maybe get your blessing first?” he finally finished saying.

Silence hangs in the air for a moment, as your father contemplates Charles's proposal.

Your father chuckled softly. “That's a very old-fashioned approach, Charles, but charming all the same. I appreciate that.”

He looks down, slightly embarrassed but relieved he’s managed to say what needed saying.

Your father looks at Charles kindly. “You know, y/n is a special girl. She deserves someone good, and from what I've seen, you're a good kid, Charles. You seem genuine, and she seems happy and bubbly with you. So… yes, you have my blessing. Just don't break her heart, okay?” your father finally says.

Charles visibly relaxes, a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. He beams with relief and happiness.

“Oh grazie, signor! Thank you so much. I won't disappoint you. I promise.” he says smiling. (thank you, sir)

Your father smiles, satisfied with Charles’ sincerity and his daughter's happiness. “I appreciate your respect, Charles. Just be kind to my little girl.”

“I promise you sir.”

Charles walks away with a lightness in his step, he has successfully navigated a significant hurdle, a blend of tradition and modern romance. His feelings for you are genuine and deep, and now he can openly share them with your family and move to the next chapter.

The farmhouse door clicked shut behind him, the sound muffled by the thick stone walls. The scent of sun-baked earth and woodsmoke hung heavy in the air, a familiar comfort... But tonight, the usual quiet of the farmhouse felt different; charged with a quiet anticipation that hummed beneath the surface. He’d done it, he'd asked your father, and the answer had been a resounding yes, laced with a paternal warmth that had eased his nerves and filled his heart.

He found you in your bedroom – your shared bedroom, a space that now felt intrinsically yours and his, a shared sanctuary. You were sprawled on the floor amidst a whirlwind of fur and tiny paws. Your four kittens, a fluffy, wriggling mass of playful energy, tumbled around you, batting at your hands, their miniature claws playfully raking your skin.

You were laughing, a light, melodic sound that resonated through the room, a pure, unfiltered joy that lifted his spirits. Your hair was slightly disheveled, escaping the loose braid you'd worn earlier. Your cheeks were flushed with a healthy pink, and your eyes shone with an infectious happiness that mirrored his own. The sight stole his breath away; it was a scene of pure domestic bliss, a picture of contentment he hadn’t even dared to dream of just months before.

He watched you for a long moment, mesmerized. He’d seen you in countless glamorous settings, especially when you want to look a little more put together, but this... this raw, unfiltered joy, this intimate moment, was far more captivating than any red carpet event. The casual way you were dressed – in one of his oversized t-shirts – added to your charm. You looked incredibly beautiful, even more beautiful than he'd ever imagined.

He cleared his throat, the sound breaking the spell. You looked up, your eyes widening slightly in surprise. A moment of pure, shared intimacy hung in the air before a slow, warm smile spread across your face, erasing any trace of surprise.

“Hey darling.” he said, his voice slightly hoarse with the residue of his earlier anxiety.

You looked up and smiled at him. “Hi.” you replied, your voice soft and a little breathless. One of the kittens, bolder than the others, launched itself onto your lap, settling contentedly amidst the chaos.

“They seem to have adopted you.” he said, a smile playing on his lips as he watched the tiny creature knead its paws into your shirt.

“They're incredibly cuddly.” you responded, your laughter echoing through the room, you gently stroked the kitten, its tiny purr rumbling against your hand.

He joined you on the floor, careful not to disturb the furry tornado. One of the kittens, emboldened by his presence, attempted to climb onto his lap. He chuckled, allowing the tiny creature to settle comfortably, its weight incredibly light yet strangely comforting.

The next hour passed in a blur of shared laughter and playful chaos. You told him stories about each kitten – their unique personalities, their mischievous habits. He listened intently, captivated not just by the anecdotes but by the way your eyes shone with affection as you spoke about them, their names and quirks rolling off your tongue like a familiar lullaby. It was a moment of pure connection, of sharing a simple joy that transcended words.

He found himself picking up a kitten, its tiny body surprisingly warm in his hands. He felt a peculiar sense of calm wash over him; a sensation he hadn't felt before. The kitten purred contentedly against his chest, its soft fur brushing against his skin.

“They’re… surprisingly comforting.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yup, they are.” you agreed, your voice soft and tender. “They’re little bundles of pure joy.” You reached out and gently stroked his cheek, the gesture felt intimate, sealing the moment with a warmth that resonated deeply within him.

The kittens continued their playful antics, their energy seemingly boundless. But amidst the chaos, a quiet intimacy had settled between you two, a profound connection that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. The playful fur, the soft purrs, the shared laughter – they formed a soundtrack to the quiet contentment that filled the room.

He looked at you and cleared his throat. “Oh, peachy... I spoke to your father.” he said timidly.

“Oh, really? About what? If I may know...” you said softly.

He blushed. “Well, um... I asked him for his permission, let's say... To, you know, take you on a date.” he said softly with a big smile. “A proper date, in the city...” he whispered.

You were speechless, you didn't expect him to say that. “Charles, wow... That sounds amazing!” you giggled. “And you asked my father for permission, quite a gentleman.” you smiled.

He smiled and chuckled. “Hey, I had to ask for his blessing, he's going to annihilate me if anything happens to his little princess.” he said and you blushed so hard. “So... What do you think?”

“Well... I think it's a great idea!” you said and you give him a little peck on the lips.

“So, it's sealed! We'll have a date!” he gives you a little peck on your lips and you giggled.

The success of his conversation with your father was undoubtedly a victory, but this... this intimate moment of shared joy, the simple pleasure of playing with kittens on the floor, was the perfect epilogue. It was the beginning of your own shared sanctuary, a haven of love and laughter on the edge of the farm and the enjoyment of country life. He knew this was just the beginning of a beautiful life together, a journey filled with unexpected joys and profound connections, a life that already felt perfectly, wonderfully complete.

[s-a-f-e-w-o-r-d--2]

Oggi è sabato un giorno un po' speciale... Per un giorno speciale ci vuole una colazione speciale... Calda... Bollente... Che ti lasci addosso per tutto il giorno il suo sapore...🔥

Buongiorno 😘

~ Virginia ~

[occhietti]

Se riesce a farti sorridere quando ti svegli,

o è una persona speciale o è un caffè.

- istintomaximo, Twitter

Buongiorno...☕🌻

[mancino]

Buongiorno a

chi pensa

che ogni

giorno

sia

un dono speciale,

da accogliere

con

amore,

da vivere

con il cuore

e da respirare

con tutto il

profumo

della..

vita...

Buongiorno !! 🌹❤️

[cyberhopper]

Morning Warmth

Characters: Mario and Peach Genres/themes: Fluff, established relationship Summary: Something short and sweet I wrote in one sitting, featuring Established Relationship MarioXPeach waking up together. Very mild suggestive themes contained herein. Also available on AO3

--------

Winter had come early this year.

The onslaught of late-November cold brought a wave of peculiar cosiness. It wasn't Christmas yet - it wasn't even close enough to start thinking about buying gifts - but Peach couldn't help feeling the pull of festivity as she huddled up beside the fireplace every night, lost in her favourite romance novels.

This morning, she awoke to stark whiteness through her bedroom window. The tallest trees were caked in snow, their branches hanging heavy with it, wet and glistening, and the air was so still that she could see nothing moving. As though the world itself were holding its breath, immobilised in a slice of time.

Awareness of the snow would normally make her feel cold, even tucked up in bed as she were, but the warm bundle against her right side ensured anything but. A fond smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Sleep-slow, she reached out to brush her fingers through his ruffled brown hair. He stirred almost unnoticeably, his breath making his mustache move. She almost giggled, but suppressed it fast enough to avoid waking him.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, he seemed to be waking up on his own. The tiny movement was followed moments later by a more obvious one. His legs shifted beneath the quilt, stretching to their fullest length, which didn't make a whole lot of difference, and his fingers curled restlessly against his palms. He was wearing a set of dark blue pyjamas with tiny Power Stars embroidered on the fabric. Peach had never asked when he bought them.

It was only their third week sleeping together in her bed, in her castle, but it already felt like they'd been doing it for half a lifetime.

Mario's eyes flickered open, but not all the way. She saw a sliver of bright cerulean and black before they eased open just a little more. "...Buongiorno..." he murmured, still half-asleep, voice muddy and much more accented than usual.

He didn't use his native tongue very often, but every time Peach heard it felt like a special treat. Something about the completely foreign words made something inside her warm up and vibrate with giddy enjoyment. She couldn't even explain why.

"Good morning," she murmured back, smiling and playfully touching his nose with one finger. "Did you sleep well?"

He went cross-eyed trying to keep her finger in sight, which made her giggle. Then he blinked and returned his gaze to her face. It was drowsy, and soft, and filled with timid wonder. He was still in awe that he got to wake up beside her every morning. It made Peach feel, quite frankly, a little conceited. What had she done to deserve such unending devotion and reverence? Did she even want Mario to look at her this way?

But such thoughts were hard to contemplate first thing in the morning, and were swiftly discarded in favour of more important things.

"I did," he replied softly. His accent was still thick, but he wasn't unconsciously slipping into Italian. She found herself missing it. "You look beautiful this morning."

Something about his face made affection roll over her in a crashing wave. She was helpless to its tide.

Mario yelped when she suddenly and decisively rolled him over. She pushed him onto his back and settled herself above him, being careful not to press her full weight down. The momentum of the movement carried her mouth effortlessly down to his.

He always loved it when she tried to act more assertive - perhaps finding some relief in giving up control - and he responded without hesitation. His left hand rested over her cheek, and his right curled around her shoulder. His silly pyjamas were velvet-soft, but she could feel sturdy muscles underneath them; his mustache was tickling her nose, and the warmth was turning into heat.

All things considered, it was a pretty chaste kiss, but when she pulled back moments later, his face was flushed as though she'd done something scandalous.

She couldn't help but laugh. "Are you ever going to get used to me kissing you?" she teased.

"Never," he vowed. His left hand stroked her cheek while his right slowly pushed through her bedraggled hair. She instinctively pressed closer when she felt it curl around the back of her neck - short, strong fingers that left impressions wherever they touched. He wasn't really doing anything, but having felt those fingers in far less chaste scenarios...

A prickling heat crept into her face, and she buried herself in his chest to hide it.

"Now you are the one blushing," he said, soft and gleeful in her ear.

She couldn't help but giggle into his pyjamas. "What can I say? You make it happen."

"I didn't even do anything." There was surprise in his voice beneath the amusement.

After a while, Peach resolved to pull her still reddening face out of his chest, stare him down determinedly, and then drag him in for another kiss. She had no idea what time it was, but it seemed to be early still; she felt Mario tentatively caress her side through her nightdress, and wondered if he might be persuaded to stay an extra hour.

[l-incantatrice]

"Tutti i giorni sono un occasione speciale.

Conserva solo ciò che deve essere conservato: ricordi, sorrisi, profumi, nostalgie, momenti... "

-Medeiros-

BUONGIORNO ♣️

[copias-girl]

To Catch a Cardinal: Chapter VI

A/N: This wouldn’t be a ‘life at the ministry’ fic without a black mass chapter so LETS GOOOO 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

All chapters here <3

•𐕣♥︎𖤐♥︎𐕣•

You awoke in the morning, stirring as your eyes fluttered open, blinking the sleep away. You hopped out of bed, pulling back the thick velvet curtains, and started getting ready for black mass.

You opted to wear a habit that was quite similar to your casual habit, except the skirt was shorter and it had some cute lace ruffles here and there. It also had a corset lace-up in the back which cinched your waist sinfully. You slid a garter belt on under your dress, clipping the straps onto some black thigh-high fishnet stockings to hold them up.

You slipped on your high heeled bootlets and headed out the door, groups of siblings already chatting as they made their way to the chapel. Your friend group soon called out to you from behind, catching up with you.

“Papa just looks so handsome in his robes.” Emily sighed dreamily, earning excited sounds of agreement from the other sisters.

“I know right!” Lilith groaned, turning to you. “You’re so lucky that he’s always vying for your attention.”

“Seems like you’re favoured by the Dark Lord for sure.” Mable nodded.

You only smiled, giving them a casual little shrug as if you were unaware of the special treatment you got from your Papa.

“Hey, what about me?” Rob pouted, pretending to be hurt.

“Of course you’re handsome, Robbie!” The sisters all cried, fawning over him and making you roll your eyes.

“Isn’t he?” Ava giggled, nudging you.

“Huh? Yeah, whatever..” You tossed the noncommittal response over your shoulder as you searched for Cardinal Copia amidst the crowd of siblings.

It wasn’t long before you heard a pitiful string of apologies and excuse me’s, and you subsequently spotted the Cardinal attempting to make his way through the numerous siblings as they inconsiderately bumped into him.

He was close enough for you to snag his pellegrina, tugging him closer to you and throwing him off balance in the process.

He tried to regain his footing, bumping right into you and accidentally wrapping his arms around your waist to keep from falling.

He stared at you with wide eyes, the pointy tip of his rat-like nose just barely touching yours.

“Buongiorno, Cardinale.” You giggled softly.

“B-Buongiorno, Sorella…” His voice came out as a whisper. “Ah! M-mi dispiace!” Panic flashed on his features as he realized his arms were still around you, and he pulled away hastily, his cheeks already flushing. Satanas, it was too early for this.

“I don’t mind.” You grinned, smoothing your hands over his pellegrina, straightening his biretta, even daring to run a fingertip along his jawline. He visibly shivered at that, lips parting as he let out a shaky sigh, his dark-socketed eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Poor little Cardinal, you could just tell he was so incredibly touch-starved.

Taking his arm, you began strolling together down the crowded corridor.

“Are you coming??” Mable turned to ask you, as you had fallen a bit behind.

Emily turned too, rolling her eyes when she saw who you had in tow. “Of course she’s not cumming, she’s with that loser.” She laughed.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m cumming.” You reassured them with narrowed eyes, the innuendos going completely over Copia’s head.

“I hope you slept well, Cardinal.” You made light conversation, stealing longer and longer glances at him as you walked. You couldn’t help but lick your lips, he just looked so incredibly delicious. His sharp sideburns and- Lucifer, that nose. You were really getting a good look at his profile now and you found yourself almost moaning out loud from the thought of riding his face, that prominently pointy snout of a nose pushing into your clit perfectly.

The Cardinal may not know it, no one else may know it, but this man was made for sex. You just couldn’t wait to put that theory to the test.

“I- I slept okay.” He nodded half-heartedly, giving you a little shrug. You wondered what that meant. Did he lay awake all night thinking of you? Was his cock painfully hard? Did he refuse to touch himself out of respect for you, or did he give in and cry out your name as he spilled his load all over his hand? “And you?” He asked, turning to you; his lower lip reddened, no doubt from biting it out of nervousness.

“Mm, wonderfully, thank you. I had a very good dream last night.” You hummed. “You were in it.” You added, turning to him with a ghost of a smirk playing on your lips.

Copia stiffened, breath hitching as he gaped at you with wide eyes. “M-me? W-what was it?” He enquired nervously.

“I can’t seem to remember.” You placed a finger on your chin in thought, so innocent and coy. “I just know it was a good one.”

By this time you had entered the chapel, sitting in one of the pews close to the front, with your friend group on one side of you and Copia on the other.

You all stood and sang the opening prayer as Terzo waltzed up the main aisle, majestic robes flowing behind him, holding the thick black Satanic Bible aloft. He was surrounded by a few siblings carrying black clerical candles, as well as Secondo who was holding up a grucifix staff. Usually during masses, one of the Papas would be conducting the ritual while another would assist as his auxiliary.

Once Terzo reached the altar, he placed the unholy bible onto it, bowing to kiss it. He then opened his arms and called out a proud, “Ave Satanas!”

“Ave Satanas!” You and the whole congregation echoed.

“Please be seated, my children.” Terzo gestured, beginning his sermon, speaking on upholding the sacraments of Satan, as well as taking part in the cardinal sins.

His mismatched eyes found yours, causing his sentence to trail off as a sly smirk spread across his face, and he shot you a saucy wink. All of the siblings in the chapel followed his gaze, their stares all landing on you. You rolled your eyes with a smile, playfully sticking your tongue out at your Papa.

“As I was saying, the sin of gluttony and the sin of lust are very… connected, no? You can indulge in many things, including lust.” Terzo went on, clasping his hands in front of him as he continued his sermon. “Killing two stones with one bird, si?” He said, causing everyone to giggle. “Ah, mi dispiace, I have it backwards. You kill the birds with the stone!” He laughed.

Your eyes drifted over to Copia as you stole a glance at him, biting your lip. You shifted in your place on the pew, accidentally-on-purpose pressing your thigh against his. Your skirt had ridden up, exposing your thighs and the straps of your garter belt which were holding up your stockings.

Copia glanced downwards at the contact, letting out a quiet gasp at the sight of your lingerie. His head snapped back up, feeling as though he had seen something he shouldn’t have. Although, in your peripheral vision you could see the poor man inwardly struggling with himself, his eyes timorously creeping back down to your thighs as you shifted once more, allowing your skirt to rise up even more scandalously, your leg rubbing against his in the process.

You took Copia by surprise, then, looking to him and catching him staring. You said nothing, instead just putting on a shy smile while quickly looking away. And that was embarrassing enough for the poor man, but when you quietly cleared your throat and pulled your skirt back down as far as it would go, his nerves were instantly alit with hellfire.

The Cardinal’s mind was consumed with panic. He was a pervert. A weirdo. A lech. Sweet Satan, he was a creep. And moreover, you, the strikingly beautiful and sugary sweet sister had caught him taking advantage of you in such a horrible way by staring at your exposed thighs like that. Surely, you would never be kind to him again. Hell, right now you were probably shaking your head, thinking about how your friends were right. About how the Cardinal really was just a disgusting rat all along.

You bit the inside of your lip to hide your smirk as the poor man’s alarmed thoughts of dread and worry floundered around inside that head of his. You could practically hear his heart hammering against his ribcage, like a little prey creature. Copia really was a cute, pitiful rat.

The Cardinal felt so contrite, so completely and utterly ashamed of himself for being a dirty old man. But then you were placing your dainty little hand high on his leg, and- oh, Copia was hopelessly confused, your mixed signals tangling around him and causing him to feel dizzy.

“Cardinal, it’s time to kneel.” You leaned in and whispered, pulling him from his distressed thoughts.

The man only stared at you with those wide doe eyes, giving you a meagre nod, as if he was too flustered to even comprehend what you were trying to tell him. But how could he concentrate, when your delicate little fingers were curling around his thigh, your hand so high on his leg that you could almost almost brush against the bulge in his pants. Thank goodness his cassock was made of thick wool; he hoped your quick eyes didn’t catch the way his cock twitched in his pants as you gave his thigh a slight squeeze.

Licking his lips nervously, Copia reached in front of him and pulled the kneeler down, the both of you kneeling side by side with hands clasped in prayer.

•𐕣𖤐𐕣•

You went through mass kneeling, standing, sitting, and chanting; eventually being instructed to open the prayer books and flip to page 666.

All but one of the prayer books in the pew were being occupied by your friends; you and the Cardinal both reaching for the last one. You gave him a charming grin and a small shrug, the poor little mouse blushing as you scooted even closer to him so the two of you could share.

“Hey!” Rob whispered, leaning over Lilith and catching your attention.

“Hm?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Wanna share with me?” He asked, holding his prayer book up.

“Hardly seems convenient to share when we’re not right next to each other.” You pointed out, cozying up to the Cardinal even more, once again feeling the heat of excruciating nervousness emanating from him.

“Well, just climb over Lil and you can-” Rob insisted, but you cut him off.

“What are you talking about? Just share with someone else.” You whispered, shaking your head in confusion.

Rob sighed frustratedly then, running his fingers through his perfectly styled dirty blonde hair and leaning back in his seat. “Always with the fuckin’ rat nowadays…” He grumbled.

“You can share with me, Robbie.” Emily offered with an eager smile.

“Yeah, sure…” He conceded with a sniff, casting a final glance to you.

You were pressed tightly against Copia, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. One of your hands even came to settle over top of his to help him hold the book as you flipped to the correct page.

The Cardinal’s Latin chanting came out as a hushed murmur, shyly keeping his painted eyes trained on the words in the book, even though he already knew them off by heart. He just couldn’t bear to look at you, fearing he may suffer some sudden illness if he acknowledged how close you were to him.

After the lengthy prayer, you moved over just a little to give back the Cardinal his space. He greatly felt the lack of you, ashamed of the fact that he wished you would have stayed pressed against him.

And you, well, you already missed Copia’s warmth, and the feeling of his quick, anxiety-ridden breathing.

“Let us pray!” Terzo flourished, and everyone in the chapel stood, joining hands and getting ready to pray the Our Father.

With wide eyes and absolutely no self-confidence, Copia nervously offered his gloved hand to you. You considered it for only a moment, giving him a little smirk before placing your dainty hand in his, also joining with Lilith on your other side.

Just holding your hand was euphoric, and Copia felt like the luckiest man to ever walk the earth. He kept stealing glances at your joined hands, thankful that you didn’t deny him.

“In the name of our unholiest most high, we dare to say:” Terzo outstretched his arms.

“Our Father, who art in hell, unhallowed be thy name. Cursed are thy sons and daughters of our nemesis who are to blame. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Hell. Give us this day, our daily bread, and bless us for our trespasses as we curse those who trespass against us. Lead us vehemently into temptation, and deliver us into evil. Nema.”

There was a moment of silence after everyone finished the prayer, before Papa finally spoke again.

“Sin be with you!” He gestured to the congregation.

“And also with you.” The chorus of voices responded.

“And now, my children, we bestow upon one another, the sign of sin.” Terzo stated with another dramatic flourish, watching as every sibling and clergy member turned to one another.

It was tradition to kiss one another on both cheeks for this part of mass, many siblings even kissing each other on the lips.

Copia’s cheeks were on fire as you turned to him, the hot flush on his face making his little freckles more prominent. Your lashes were thick, lips parted as you reached up, placing a hand on his jawline as you moved in closer closer closer.

The Cardinal tensed up, frozen in his place, not even daring to breathe as you grew dangerously, intoxicatingly near.

You paused just before making contact, savouring the scent of his cologne and the heady sensation of being so close to him, eyes flicking down to his kissable lips. Blood was pounding loud in Copia’s ears, nearly having a heart attack as you slowly leaned in, placing a carefully gentle kiss to his cheek, the corner of your mouth brushing against his. After a moment, you moved and planted another deliberate peck on the other side, being sure to brush the corner of your mouth against his once more. The way his thin moustache felt against your soft skin had you rubbing your thighs together, hungry for more.

“Sin be with you, Cardinal.” You murmured softly, pulling away only enough to gaze deeply into his eyes.

“S-Sin be with you, Sorella…” He responded shakily, ready to crumble under your intense stare. So many thoughts were running through his head. The corners of your lips had brushed together… Could that count as his first kiss?

You hummed in amusement, rubbing your fingertips against his cheeks to wipe away the glistening lipgloss you had left there, causing Copia to blush furiously at the thought of having your sweet lipgloss on him. He wished he could tell you to quit wiping it off so that he could run back to his room, blot it onto a handkerchief, and save it forever. Although, he immediately scolded himself for being a weirdo and having thoughts like that.

Heart beating wildly in his chest, Copia continued to mentally fuss over the technicalities of what had just transpired. He was completely and truly unloved all his life; and the poor man had never been kissed before, so he didn’t exactly know what a first kiss could entail. Was the slight, accidental brushing of lips enough? It may have been nothing to you, but surely not to the Cardinal. The corners of his mouth were still tingling, head still swimming with overwhelming dizziness, as if you had bewitched him with a spell.

Before he could dwell on it any further, it was time for unholy communion. Everyone exited the pews, organized into neat lines as they waited to receive the blessing from their exalted Papa.

Every sister eagerly knelt, excited to have their turn with Terzo placing the host directly into their mouths; but as usual he was distracted, his eyes locked onto you as you made your way down the main aisle towards him.

When it was your turn, you gracefully fell to your knees before your Papa, looking up at him and letting your lips part, slightly sticking your tongue out.

He smirked down at you, taking his sweet time in plucking the host out of the golden ciborium before holding it above you.

“Body of Lucifer.” Terzo murmured, placing it onto your tongue. He pressed it into your wet mouth, fingers curling under your chin while his gloved thumb pushed further into your mouth, mischievous delight dancing in his eyes.

You cast a playful glare up at him, biting his thumb in warning.

“Ah, ah. Don’t be naughty, Sorellina.” He bent down to quietly chastise you, biting the inside of his cheek to stop the smile from spreading across his face.

Terzo then traded the ciborium for the chalice of wine that Secondo had in his hands, and he held it up to your lips for you to drink. You kept a cheekily defiant eye contact with your Papa, but suddenly he was purposefully tipping the chalice and some wine spilled over the edge, dripping down your chin.

Terzo- ever the gentleman- immediately came to your rescue, despite having deliberately created the problem himself. He swiped away the droplet, subsequently licking it off his finger with a triumphant smirk.

The eyes of everyone in the chapel were locked on the two of you; jealous tension hanging thick in the air. Even poor Copia felt a pang of worry in his heart. He knew how Terzo could be so captivating with his endless flirtations, of which you happened to be the subject of, so he only hoped that the man wouldn’t steal you away. Still, though, the Cardinal felt guilty for having such thoughts. It’s not like he owned you. You were just a kind sister who had been merciful enough to take pity on him, but he wasn’t entitled to your affections at all.

“Fratello, quit using our unholy ritual to flirt with poor Sorella.” Secondo scolded his brother through gritted teeth, elbowing the man in the ribs and casting a disapproving glare at him.

Terzo only brushed him off, but shot his brother a competitive look when they both offered their hands to help you back to your feet. You accepted both of their gloved hands with a smile, your eyes falling graciously onto Secondo for a moment.

“Nema.” You clasped your hands in prayer and curtsied to Terzo. “Pervert.” You added, shooting him a devilish smirk as you strutted back to your seat, hearing his mischievous cackle behind you.

•𐕣𖤐𐕣•

Once mass was concluded, you eyed the Cardinal with a look he couldn’t quite discern. It was lust, but the poor thing had such low self esteem that he didn’t even recognize it.

You walked out of the chapel arm in arm, strolling leisurely until the large crowd of siblings passed. Copia was flattered that you didn’t mind being seen with him. He was used to being avoided like the plague; no one ever wanted to be seen associating with the weird rat man.

Your friends hung back with you, talking amongst themselves, when suddenly you felt a pop!

“Oh!” You exclaimed, halting your steps.

“Sorella, a-are you alright?” Copia asked worriedly.

“Oh, one of my garter straps came undone.” You realized. “Would you help me?”

The Cardinal’s eyes widened, the flush on his face spreading to the tips of his ears. “H-help you w-with… Ehm- w-with- eh.. w-with the g-g-garter?” He nervously stuttered.

“Uh huh.” You nodded innocently. “If you could?”

And how could he ever say no to you? When you were gazing at him with those pretty eyes and twirling a lock of your hair around your finger like that?

He nodded quickly, dropping to his knees in front of you. To his absolute horror, you turned around. It was one of the straps in the back that had come loose. Your short little skirt was such a tease, almost, almost giving him an eyeful but not quite.

He grabbed ahold of the strap, biting his lip and tugging it down to meet your fishnet stocking, his brows furrowing in confusion when it wouldn’t reach.

“Oh, you can just reach up there and pull the whole thing down a bit if it doesn’t reach.” You suggested, looking back at the poor little rat as he struggled.

His alarmed eyes met yours and you only gave him an innocently kittenish smile of encouragement, before he cast his stare downwards, gloved hands trembling as he reached up your dress. The poor man could feel sweat beginning to bead on his brow, his heart hammering against his ribcage, chest tightening to the point that he feared he would pass out.

Cautiously, he reached up up up your skirt, desperately trying to be a gentleman and not skim his fingers against the supple flesh of your ass or cause your skirt to lift too much. He finally reached your garter belt, pulling it down slightly so that the strap would reach.

Copia was biting his lip so hard he tasted blood, quivering hands fumbling to attach the clip to your stocking.

Meanwhile, your friends had stopped to wait up for you, all of them gawking at the sight of pathetically awkward Copia with his hands up your habit.

Finally, he got it, releasing a tensely shaky exhale. Satanas, he had never… He had never done anything like this before, he could barely even fathom the thought of you asking him to do this; especially when everyone else seemed to find him so incredibly detestable.

You adjusted everything back into place while he hurried back to his feet, trying to calm down but feeling utterly stupefied by you.

“Oh, thank you so much Cardinal!” You beamed, pulling him into a hug, your arms wrapping around his neck. “You’re the b-!” your eyes widened, swearing that you felt something shamefully hard heavily pressing right into you. “You’re the best.”

Copia looked like an eager puppy dog, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into a nervous smile at your praise. His lips weren’t the only thing that twitched, however.

“You know, I could have done that for you, babe. A lot faster than Rat, anyways.” You didn’t even notice Rob stalking up to you, towering over you and Copia.

“You know, I think Rat, here, is pretty good with his hands.” You countered with a devilish little smirk, ducking away as Rob tried to throw an arm around your shoulders, going around the other side of the pitifully red-faced Cardinal. He was usually called ‘Rat’ as a demeaning insult, but for some reason, that name only flustered him more when it came from you.

Hooking your arm with Copia’s, you pulled him along and caught up with your girlfriends as they excitedly beckoned you over, wanting to make plans for a sleepover.

𖤐 to be continued 𖤐

Taglist: @sucharide @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @rightintheghoulies @copiaswifey @youhaveahomeinmyheart @mister-girl @faeeeeh @rubyserpentine @ramblingoak @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @my-mummy-dust @angelconservation @yourlocalghouleh @gh0sty6 @nikolaiology @thenick100 @mothsdraw @ivyanddaisies @gothdaddyissues @moonlight-fern @copiaslittleratty @nocturnal-birb @creepyalbatross @lightbluuestars @delta-is-here @1kirby1 @dawnghoul @kyberj @esmiephan @not-ya-girl @notmanagingmymischief @averagecrastinator @anubidian @peripheralviision @morbid-personality @rewin-d @madisyn-grace @oops-hyper-fixated-on-slashers @androidwitchbitch @lilithsgirlfriend @xhorror-nerdx @pxl8ed

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Eight

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 2.8k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

I

It had been several days since she’d introduced Tom to the Baron. Perhaps a full week already passed. In truth, she stopped keeping count.

She had waited outside the Baron’s office for him, and pretended it was just to make sure he didn’t lose his way on his way back to the hotel, but selfishly she was curious to know how their meeting had gone. Did the Baron like the books? Did he like Tom? Did Tom like him? The latter was unlikely. Only special personalities ever did, and her new friend was neither bootlicker nor snob.

But Tom was frustratingly silent on their way back to the station, and no gentle prodding from her would nudge a hint of what had happened. His body was stiff and straight as if in a march, and his gaze was focused on the road ahead. He spared her only a few, rather shy glances now and then, as if he had just taken something from her. There would be no further trade, she understood that much…

She hadn’t seen him since.

The old routine of life that she fell back into suddenly no longer satisfied. She frustrated herself by thinking of him now and then, his face appearing to her for an instant, and then she would start wondering where he was, what he was doing, was he thinking of her, would he ever come back… For all she knew, he had left for England already, and then she would become spontaneously angry and afraid, and her handling of the books would roughen, and her steps would sound quite loud, and nothing would taste good to her anymore.

But all it would take to lift her spirits was the chiming of the bell — was that Tom? — before she saw it was just Sister Silvia or another flock of tourists. Oh. Buongiorno.

She was stocking the shelves at the far end of the shop one morning when the bell ran once again, and through the silence, she heard steady footsteps, firm and prim and strong. She descended and went to them, and when she saw a dark head of hair and a tight lean torso in a plain white shirt, her heart trilled. She smiled as she approached him, faster, faster, and called out a bright ‘hello’. But then the young man turned and broke the spell.

“B-buongiorno,” she mumbled, stopping to a halt. “Posso aiutarla?”

“Oui, er… Si. Cercando un libro di… Torchia?” he said in lightly accented Italian. Was he French? “Quello nella vetrina.”

“Certamente. E come si chiama, signore?”

“Clement Merle,” he said with a smooth rolling of the tongue. “Piacere, signorina.”

Whatever faint smile she had faded. She realised with horror that she would have to tell the Baron about this, and suddenly everything felt quite cold. She forced a grin and nodded, and invited Clement further inside.

II

Tom did not particularly enjoy the taste of coffee, even after having to inflict it on himself these past few weeks for the sake of fitting in. It was a muggle drink and made him somewhat restless when he drank too much of it.

But now that he had started partaking of it on an almost daily basis, he recognised in it a certain quality. It, unlike tea, did not remind him of Mrs. Cole, nor any of the other ladies at the orphanage. Combined, they must’ve drank the Empire’s supply of the stuff while he was there, and to this day he couldn’t bring himself to touch certain varieties, like the Ceylon they favoured.

But he was here now, just another dark-haired man sipping from a little cup throughout the hour while he sat outside and pretended to read a newspaper…

The whole day, he hadn’t ventured anywhere outside of the hotel. He ordered breakfast in his room and spent most of the morning reading. Later, he had lunch at the restaurant downstairs and let the hours drain away at the bar. He hadn’t brought any books with him, they were too important — especially the ones that screamed when opened.

People came and went, and between lunch and dinnertime, he was propositioned on at least four occasions. It was hard to tell with foreign women… They were either too overt, too subtle, or both. But it reminded him, in a manner that made a chill slink down his spine and rise up in his stomach, of the Baron: that same narcissism and pride. As for the attention of the women, that reminded him of England, and his extra-contractual work for Burke. Depravity, fel need, and the loneliness of witches.

Perhaps it was their wealth that he resented, or their looks that he despised, women married for their money with the grit to bear a loveless match… Tom humiliated himself for them, swallowed his own pride, and touched, when it came down to it, their most guarded parts. But no matter what deluded charms they exercised, they never entered through his blood, his eyes, his mouth, to reach him, and Tom could not imagine any of the women he had met so far as able to, through their lips or tender touch, incite his soul to plummet to the level of the body, nor bring his body to the dark heights of his soul.

And of course, how could they? Women who had never worked a day in their lives, women who slept on treasures they neither valued nor truly recognised. Selfish creatures suffering vainly in their little cages, whose ignorance and cowardice enticed him to the brink of murder. No, now that he was away from England and free from Burke and Borgin’s demands, he would not subject himself to any more of that.

“Signor Riddle?”

He nearly jumped from his seat as he heard the clerk call for him from the entrance.

“Si?” he asked, turning around. This was the same prick who recommended that horrible restaurant to him. His eyes narrowed.

“Ah, telephone for you. Cabine two.”

“Grazie,” he muttered.

Tom left the newspaper and his cold coffee behind and walked out to the little chamber on the other side of the hotel where the phone booths were.

“Ahem, yes? Tom Riddle speaking.”

“Tom? Oh, hello! I was afraid you wouldn’t be in…”

It was her.

“Yes, took a break from sight-seeing,” he answered, casually leaning against the booth. “It’s good to hear from you again. Everything alright?”

“Of course, of course it is.”

“Really? You sound a little… nervous.” It was hard to keep the smile from his voice.

“No, everything’s fine,” she said quietly. “I just called because… because…”

Tom held the phone to his ear tightly. She sounded like she was going to cry any minute.

“Because I was wondering whether you’d be able to stop by the shop anytime soon.”

“I’d be glad to,” said Tom, summoning a tone of innocent confusion. “But what’s this about?”

“The… the Baron has reconsidered your offer.”

“He’ll trade the books?”

“I don’t know about that,” she said, the connection wavering. “I just know he wants to talk to you. He’d like to make an offer.”

“Very well. When?”

“When can you come?”

“Today.”

“Oh, that’s… That would be perfect,” she said excitedly.

“Good,” Tom smiled. “You close at half past five, yes? I can come then.”

“Thank you so much, Tom. I’ll be waiting for you inside. Bring the books with you, just in case.”

“I will,” he said. “Goodbye for now.”

“Bye…”

III

He arrived there a little early and waited for a while. He hadn’t expected to see a dark little car parked beside the shop, but at least it confirmed what he already suspected. The Baron was inside.

From the outside, the place seemed closed for the day save for a faint little light coming from a corner of the room. He knocked on the door and, as he waited for somebody to answer, he looked in through the window. There was no sign of Clement anywhere, but that volume of Torchia — the bait they set for him — was gone.

It didn’t matter what happened to Clement, of course, because Tom had been at the hotel all day which all the staff there could attest to. It might have been a little callous, sacrificing him like that, but at least it took suspicion away from him. That, and the monogrammed Swiss knife he’d left under the table. Oh well. Clement had been annoying anyway.

Like a light in the darkness, she came into view.

“Tom!” he heard her say from the other side. She rushed to open the door, her smile shaky and wide. “You came…”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” he grinned cockily as he took his coat off. “So, how have you been?”

Silent as he stepped through, she locked up again behind him, then took his coat and hung it up on the rack behind the door. There was a haunted look in her eyes that wished to say so much.

“Fine, just fine. And how are you?”

“Good,” Tom nodded. He looked down at her figure — fetching as always but closed off, tight, her legs stiff and her hands ruddy as if she’d rubbed them raw in icy water.

“Enough with the pleasantries, I haven’t got all night!” came a familiar voice from the next room.

“Si, signore.”

“Venite qui!”

With an apologetic sigh, she showed him through.

“I’ve been well, by the way,” Tom said to her. “I did so much sightseeing this past week that it was nice to rest for a few days.”

“I honestly thought you’d returned to England by now.”

“Oh, I’m in no hurry to do that.”

“And your employer?”

“Is far away. Just the way I like it,” he winked. He knew she felt the same.

She gave him a knowing smile, then stood aside as she invited him into the last room.

The Baron was there, seated in his bulky wheelchair by the table. He was smoking his pipe, or rather chewing on it, as he levelled a thick scowl at Tom. The dark surrounded them. The only point of light was a faint lamp glowing before the Baron.

“Mr. Riddle,” he said. His expression was unchanged as Tom stepped through as if he were talking to a projection in his mind and not a person right before him. “It seems we were destined to meet again.”

“And I thought you willingly invited me,” he smiled.

“I asked you to come here. I haven’t invited you to anything yet.”

Tom shrugged and looked around, pretending to be less familiar with this room than he really was.

“I must say, Baron, being called on such short notice, so suddenly and rushed… It seems, if I can afford to say so, quite unlike you.”

The old man took another puff and clenched his jaw in thought, the loose teeth creaking in his mouth.

“This place will be of interest to you, I can assure you,” he said.

“So, should I give you the books now, or…?”

The Baron and the girl behind him exchanged a look. She closed the door behind them, then moved to the left. Tom turned his head and followed her shadowed silhouette.

She bent and pulled the carpet neatly by the edge, skirt tightening enticingly around her thighs, then knelt. He couldn’t see just what she was doing, but he could hear the click of a metallic lock, and when she stepped over to the side he could see an entrance where that trapdoor was, a gaping doorway in the floor. The jaundiced light fell over a few wooden steps that descended into darkness.

Tom looked at her. She seemed quite… apprehensive, as if afraid, but proud as well to share a secret part of her with him. Tom considered using Legilimency on her to see if he was in any danger — they had probably killed Clement, after all — but he did not yet know what magical defences this place had, and now that he was so close to penetrating their little group it would have been foolish to gamble.

“Join me downstairs,” the Baron said, and as if summoned she hurried to his side to help roll him forward. “I have something to show you.”

She avoided Tom’s gaze as she walked past, and stopped at the trapdoor. The railings on its side hooked neatly underneath the wheelchair and, carefully held by his clerk, he descended. Tom followed close behind.

The steps went on for quite a while, and soon the light from upstairs vanished. He held on to the same railings as he went down step by step, further into darkness and unknown alike. He smelled wood and dirt, and the dry chill that came with old stonework.

After a while, he heard a shuffling and squeaking of wheels, which meant they’d reached the floor. Someone flipped a switch, and light pooled underneath. Tom squinted for a moment, then continued his descent. He could estimate they were some two stories deep.

A shadow began climbing toward him. He slowed his steps and, once she reached him, touched her arm. She stopped and only then looked into his eyes, their bodies were closer now than ever.

“Where does this lead?” he whispered.

“Just follow the Baron,” she said with a weak smile in an air of surrender. “I’ll be with you shortly. I just need to close the door behind us.”

“Nobody else is coming, the shop is locked up,” he scoffed.

“It’s the rule,” she said, shrugging her arm out of his grasp and climbing onward.

IV

The Baron was waiting at the bottom and began rolling away when Tom arrived. He took a moment to look around him, but there was nothing remarkable to see. Merely an empty corridor of smooth cement, and a few electric fixtures on the walls, small lightbulbs the size of candle flames. There wasn’t even anything on the ground, although judging by the fading on the edges Tom could guess a carpet had been there not long ago.

After a few moments of walking in silence, the Baron spoke again.

“I have something for you to evaluate tonight.”

“Something?”

“A few books,” he said. “What exactly is your profession in England?”

“I serve my employer as both sales clerk and purchasing agent.”

“For how long?”

“Seven years, sir.”

“That’s not a lot,” said the old man, “for them to trust you with an international assignment like this.”

“It seems they are satisfied with my work so far.”

The Baron hummed, and Tom could tell he was trying to seem less impressed than he was. Typical of men like that, to downplay the achievements of others. A bully’s attitude. Tom could not — and indeed refused to — say that he knew muggles well, but he knew arrogance, and pride, and stuck up aristocracy.

With a prim clipping of the heels, they were joined again by his assistant. Her hands went immediately to the handles of the wheelchair and she began to help the Baron forward.

“Where’s halfway there,” she said, a little out of breath.

“Hurry up, then, before he leaves.”

Tom cocked a brow, wondering who they were referring to.

“So, how do you feel?” she asked him in a quieter voice.

“I should be asking you that,” said Tom.

“Oh, I’m fine…”

It sounded like the sort of ‘fine’ that women often gave when they had something else to say. Her large eyes, her tight closed lips, the whole nervous energy of her that night disturbed him. He liked her better up a ladder, picking dusty volumes off high shelves, her body held up in the air just by one little foot and a few fingers. Or poured over a hot desk, her breath suspended as she wrote, ink pen poised between her fingers much like a witch’s wand. Not… this. This servitude. It made bile rise up in Tom’s throat. For a moment, he imagined their places switched, then realised it would have made no difference — he was the same with Burke as she was with the Baron. He put aside this notion before it made him angry too.

They were finally approaching something different than grey walls and naked lightbulbs. Tom could see thick red drapery and lamps, and the hint of doorways further on. A single blade of light cut across the floor, shivering with hints of a figure moving on the inside.

“Now, Mr. Riddle,” said the Baron, “we’ll see if you’re worthy of carrying those books with you, and of carrying yet more.”

Tom’s left hand secured the strap of the messenger bag around his shoulder, and his left hovered at his pocket, near his wand. That had sounded an awful lot like a threat.

[elenascrive]

Da un incontro

anche virtuale

può nascere

un’Amicizia Speciale! 🥰

@elenascrive

[mikaelarebel]

A chi ti dice...

"Sei Speciale"

Non devi rispondere

" Grazie"

Devi rispondere...

"Ricordatelo!".

Buongiorno 💋

[s-a-f-e-w-o-r-d--2]

Oggi è una giornata strana... Il cielo è bigio... Scansiamo un po' la noia di questa giornata di metà settimana... Facciamo un gioco speciale... Hai presente che succede ad Alice nel paese delle meraviglia quando mangia il dolcetto con scritto "Eat me"? Vediamo se funziona anche con te... Mmmm dovresti diventare grande grande... Dai prova... Mangiami... 😏😏😏

Buongiorno 😘

~ Virginia ~

[ophelian-darling]

hiiii!! can you write something with giorno with prompts 46 and 63? in which giorno lets darling out after months to meet up with some old friends (of course he has to be there too) and one of them (either girl or boy, it's up to you) is wayyyy too touchy with darling? and he gets jealous and possessive, wanting to go home as soon as possible.

and darling tries to calm him down, telling him that she only loves him and they cuddle & kiss aajahhaaha

you can also do it with gn reader, but i would like female. how you are more comfortable with!! much love <3

"I don't like them, don't ask me to be nice"

"A friend ? you call them a friend when they have their hands and eyes all over your body ?"

TW: Jealousy, Obsession, Possessiveness, Implied emotional manipulation.

enjoy ♡

The room basked in a warm shade of morning sun; casting its joy through the air to your smiling face as you stood in front of the vanity mirror, admiring your dolled reflection with glinting eyes. Giorno blessed your morning with good tidings: you were finally allowed to go out- not exactly what he told you, but it meant having some gentle breeze and sunshine caresses nonetheless.

Your Sweetheart said that he had an important matter to attend to, and it would be nice if you accompanied him (There was no way you'd refuse, memorizing the corners of the Villa exhausted your mind) and you gladly accepted. He mentioned the presence of his most trusted subordinates and close friends, and you couldn't be happier, a sweet excitement blinking in your eyes.

"Aren't you the prettiest?" it fell from his tongue, sugary in words and adoring in tone. Everything he says casted a certain magic on you that made you forget how intolerable he was with his jealousy and strict with his instructions concerning you: from your clothing, choice of words and comportment. Blamed be anything that pulled on the strings of his head whenever it was about you: other people's stares, pricks of the tiniest thorn or could be even a drift of air; to him, you were something that meant to be put on a pedestal, more of a porcelain marionette that its sob was a shatter. 

A shy smile toned your lips while a heat bloomed on your cheeks. These simple words felt like a pink cloud; soft and loving in a way so special another human couldn't know how to offer. Despite all of his thorns, Giorno carried a constant love for you, for all your flaws and each speck of dust you stepped on, for every breath you took and word you uttered. His tiring Jealousy was dark, but a side to the brightness of his affection's moon; none of it was out of pure malice.

He plastered a quick kiss to your cheek "We're not going to take long, just five minutes and we will come back home again. If you're a good girl, I'll consider taking you somewhere nice" 

You nodded. the same dreamy smile contouring your face with warmth. 

"Buongiorno, Don Giovanna!" a brunette greeted, with a soft voice of a spring rain. as you both stepped into the small orchard, her appearance welcomed you next.

Lovely. She was lovely, in every letter of the word and in every meaning of a tongue. 

Her skin, tan as a cloud's shadow, glowed under the morning's sun, refined as fine silk and smooth as fair sand. Her eyes sang for most of her loveliness- sorrel shade of brown, one of a rosewood or an orchid flower. you couldn't help but to stare. she smiled at you, revealing a row of pearls in her mouth.

"Welcome, Signora Giovanna, it's a pleasure to see you at last!" she swan gracefully, showing her full front; up from her amphora-shaped neck, middling to her tender cleavage and down to her hips that wrapped felinely under a pencil skirt.

Your shy smile must have conveyed something else for her. as she extended her hand for you, you took it a little stronger than you intended, causing her to pull you a little bit closer as to ease your nerves with a friendly gesture. Now looking at her through a distance she deserved to be beheld at, you noticed how a dark mole complimented under her left eye, as if it was a speck of black pearl's dust.

"Nice to see you Belladonna" 

"T-thank you" you gave her another grateful smile. 

"You're as pretty as I heard. no wonder that the Don is being such a genie" she chuckled, pulling on your heartstrings even more "He has quite a fair treasure. you're really something yourself, Signora" 

A laugh was all that you had to offer, words on your tongue weren't enough to mirror her flattery, one that kissed heat on your cheeks. She was just so sweet. 

"Tesorina?" It jumped to your attention now that her hand was still on yours. 

You glanced at your side, where Giorno stood up: his face twisted into sullen lineaments, green eyes darkened just a tad under. you conned all of his expressions as much as you remembered the palm of your hand; your heart sank at how a pleasant walk outside was bound to be ruined from the very first minutes, all thanks to a woman you barely knew. 

He pursed his lips in one tight line. as he ushered with his head to his side, you caught the drift and walked up to him.

"We're going home, now" 

"You do seem eager to gloat yourself in other people's attention, as if I don't give you enough already" 

"She was just being nice! none of what you're thinking was actually happening!" 

"Now having the audacity to lie in my face and deny what I've seen?!" 

"Nothing actually happened!" your hands flew around your head, while you did your best to compose your tone to be still. While he maintained his own anger at times you argued, he didn't want to hear your voice get louder at him in return. experiencing quarrels with him many times before, you knew that you were able to pacify things from your side by not fighting back, and saying what he wanted to hear the most.

"Gio…" you drew a meek smile "I don't have eyes on her at all. in fact, I don't see anyone else aside from you" 

His face remained still, clearly unimpressed by your words. you had to try better than this, and taking a step closer to him would start it.

"I'm really sorry if you've seen something you didn't like, but please believe me when I say that she didn't do anything direct to me, nor did I like her in any sense. She was just acting like a friend" 

He quirked an eyebrow "A friend? you call her a friend when she has her hands and eyes all over your body? you can't be this naive"

You felt a flutter in your heart. surely his paranoia was concerning ; yet you couldn't help but to feel a pang of guilt at letting him think that you weren't interested in him anymore. The idea of you preferring someone else over him was still carved in his head, and probably will never be erased unless you manage to prove your true loyalty to him. 

"Did she? I didn't notice at all. but can you please be a little nicer next time in front of others? it was rude to treat someone like that" you rested your palms on his shoulders, now looking straight through his eyes.

"Don't ask me to be nice, everyone knows who you are and who I am. I don't like how she expects you to simply speak to her as if you aren't my wife" 

"Aww!" you just laughed, planting a kiss in hopes of softening his rigid face. He is handsome- a smile on his lips meant a heaven full of stars to you.

Warmly, he enveloped you in a tender embrace, thumbs cosseting the sides of your cheek. You let yourself melt in his form, feeling his lulling pulse and kneading lips on your ribs and face, never feeling so revered than ever. 

The description of the female character included in this piece was inspired from this oc.

[occhietti]

Detto col cuore....

anche un buongiorno diventa speciale.

web

Buongiorno...☕🤍

[mancino]

Non

serve molto

per avere

una

giornata

speciale...

perché:

ogni giorno

in cui

riusciamo a

cominciare..

sorridere..

vivere

serenamente...

è questo il

" tutto

speciale...."

Buongiorno !!🌹❤️