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toomuchracket · 4 months ago

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fourth of july (politician!matty x reader smut)

another summer75 fic. warnings for shibari (light) and breeding kink (HEAVY). bon appetit <3

“you're sure you don't need anything else, ma'am?”

“thanks, claudia, but we're all good,” you smile at your assistant, her eyes flitting between the windows (and the party on the lawn outside) and you. “it's been a busy morning - i think you should go and relax, do some celebrating of your own, yeah?”

her eyes light up. “really?”

you laugh. “of course. just, piece of advice? don't drink anything anyone tries to serve you from a fishbowl tonight,” you grimace, shaking your head. “too many 5th of julys have been ruined for me that way. and for the president, actually, he was so much worse than i was at parties. stupid boy.”

claudia giggles. “noted, ma'am. i'll be sure to have a glass of water after every drink, too.”

“smart girl. well, i'll leave you to it,” you stretch, moving to close the door to the presidential living quarters. “have a good weekend!”

“and you, ma'am!”

closing the door behind you, you wander through towards your bedroom. aside from the sound of your husband humming to himself in there, the place is quiet, only the two of you around.

just how you like it.

you smile as you enter your bedroom, ogling matty as he pulls his shirt over his head. his hands move to his belt, but he stops his undressing in favour of walking towards you with love in his eyes and a grin on his lips; you pretend to sulk, but open your arms anyway. “damn, i was enjoying the show.”

“of course you were,” matty kisses your forehead, pulling back to arm's length to look at you. “i don't look half as good as you do, though. i love that dress, baby.”

“i thought it was pretty,” you clasp your hands behind matty's neck, and his find home on your hips. “it's really uncomfortable, though.”

it's a blatant lie, and you're sure you aren't being very subtle, but matty has the good grace to play along anyway. “is that right, my love?” he coos, hands moving across your back to undo the halter neck “well, we'd better take it off, then.”

“fabulous idea, mr. president,” you snuggle into him, sighing when the fabric of your dress falls to the ground and your bare chests press together. matty's arms wrap tightly around you, and the feeling of home washes over you. the two of you hug in comfortable silence for a second, your fingers gently twisting into your husband's curls, before you speak softly. “m'really proud of you, you know. it was a good morning. and i know you were reluctant to host anything today, but… i'm glad you did. it was fun.”

matty huffs out a laugh into your hair. “was only reluctant because it cut short our usual long weekend plans. and you know how much i love those.”

his hands travel towards your ass, sliding under the waistband of your thong to squeeze it; you giggle softly in response, pressing a long kiss to your husband's neck and enjoying the moan he lets out. “sometimes i wonder if you'll ever get bored of driving to the cabin whenever we get a few days off.”

“if we ever get rid of the shibari rigging hooks, i might.”

“as if we'd do that. be serious, please, matthew.”

matty laughs, scooping you up and dropping you onto the bed. “i love you, my perfect little rope bunny. and wife, obvs.”

“love you too. i also love that you've got your priorities straight,” you bite your lip as you watch matty undo his trousers, leaning up to kiss him messily as he crawls up to hover over you. it's a good kiss, sloppy and passionate, one that goes straight to your underwear and prevents your brain from thinking about anything other than matty inside you. “fuck, baby. tie me up now, please? we still have,” you glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “two hours before we need to start driving. pleeeeeeease?”

matty simply raises a brow.

you pout, batting your lashes. “come on, baby, please? just a little design? a little preview for the rest of the weekend?” you wrap your legs around his waist, smiling prettily the way you've done to get whatever you want from matty since you were twenty-two. “because you love me?”

at that, your husband sighs, nodding and trying to keep the smile from his face. sap. “legs only, alright? just because i love you.”

“mhmm,” you take his face in your hands and pull him in for a kiss, smiling at the way he melts against you. “thank you, my love.”

“sweet girl,” matty strokes your cheek, before moving off you and reaching to pull a box from under the bed; inside, you see pink rope neatly arranged in loops of figure eights. your heart leaps and core gushes at the sight, but matty makes a face at it. “not very patriotic colour-wise, is it?”

“pretty sure the amount of time i'm gonna spend on my knees worshipping you this weekend will make up for that, mr. president.”

“fuck. underwear off, now,” your husband quickly takes two separate loops of rope from the box, twisting them into position while you shimmy your thong and lie down, practically vibrating with happy anticipation. “and speaking of knees - bend them for me, darling, that's it. tell me if it's too uncomfortable, yeah?”

“i will.”

“good girl.”

with that, he begins to loop the rope around your left thigh and shin, securing them together with an intricate pattern you hope to god will leave a mark on your skin. you can't remember whether it was you or matty who first suggested trying shibari a decade or so ago, but you both took to it with enthusiasm - since then, every extended private moment you've had together has involved some sort of artistic bondage, exploring new designs and positions and making each other feel good. the rope took a bit of getting used to, initially, but now you love the feeling of it against your bare skin; it's a reminder that, for at least the next few hours in your busy lives, it's just you and matty, alone together, getting to love and appreciate and care for each other at the most primal, most intimate level.

once he's done, matty taps your bound knee. he moves back, smiling at his handiwork. “that feel alright, gorgeous?”

“yeah. thank you, angel.”

he blushes, and your heart flutters. “you're welcome, my darling. gonna do the other one now, yeah?”

“go ahead.”

the two of you settle back into comfortable silence, matty continuing his work while you smile at the way his tongue pokes out of his lips in concentration, one of the things that first endeared him to you when you met at law school. suddenly, those lips part as he speaks. “isn't it funny how many people just, like, handed their babies to us at the garden party this morning?”

your brow furrows slightly. interesting topic of conversation. “happens to me quite a lot, to be honest.”

“yeah, i've noticed. s'happened eighteen times to you in the past week alone.”

your brow furrows further. “you've been counting?”

matty's cheeks go pink again. “well… not deliberately, darling, i just,” he sighs, finishing off the shibari and sitting back on his heels to look at you sheepishly. “i can't help but notice when you're interacting with babies at the minute. like, i really can't.”

oh. how interesting. and, if you're honest, not entirely unwelcome. you smile. “you think it's time?”

his eyes widen. “for… for us to-?” he clears his throat. “for us to… have a baby of our own?”

“yeah, sweetheart,” you reach up to caress his face, smiling softly at the way matty leans into your hand. “do you think now’s the time?”

“well… yeah.”

you smirk, removing your hand from your husband's face so you can use it to pull your bent legs open as wide as possible and expose your glistening cunt. “let's make a baby, then.”

matty blinks. suddenly, your instructions seem to sink in, and he follows, not even bothering to take his boxers off fully before sliding through your wetness and pushing inside you; his lips meet yours as he bottoms out, the two of you sighing into each other's mouths.

home at last.

for a moment, there's nothing but the two of you kissing like teenagers, passionate and messy and desperate, matty throbbing inside you in the most delicious way, and then he moves, pulls his hips back and snaps them forward again, over and over and over, drawing soft moans from your lips every time he slides in. a huge part of the reason matty was elected, everyone says, is because he does everything with focus and conviction - the way he fucks is no different.

he pulls back from your lips, resting your foreheads together in the most tender way and sliding his hands over yours against the pillow; when you intertwine your fingers, he smiles. “sweet girl, taking me so fucking well.”

“your sweet girl.”

“that's right. my girl, all mine,” matty beams. something about the ownership reminder spurs him on, makes him thrust faster and harder and deeper into you. you whimper his name, and he kisses your nose. “what is it, darling? need me to fill you up, is that it? put my baby in you and let everyone know you're mine?”

the words go straight to your cunt, brain too hazy with pleasure to properly take them in. “please.”

“cum for me first, sweetheart, and i will,” he coos, stroking your face and dropping a sweet kiss onto your nose. “touch that pretty clit for me, yeah? and then i'll fill up that needy little pussy of yours. promise.”

“okay,” you exhale, hand sliding down your sweat-shiny chest and between your legs, circling your aching clit the way you know matty would. ecstasy shoots through your body the instant you touch the bundle of nerves, causing you to whine and clench around your husband's dick - which in turn makes him whine - but, somehow, it isn't enough. “matty,” you croak out, blinking up at him. ��need you to talk to me. please.”

“oh, my darling,” matty grins, not unkindly. “need me to tell you how good you feel, how much i love how fucking tight your cunt is? even after all this time, after all the pounding i've given you, she's still clenching around me like a fucking vice. could stay inside you forever, you know. wanna do that. i think you want me to, as well, don't you, gorgeous? feels like it, anyway.”

the pleasure's practically blinding you at this point, tightening your muscles and clouding your mind - all you can do is frantically rub your clit, and whimper. “yeah, yeah, want you in me all the time.”

“needy girl,” matty's lips crash onto yours, tongue licking into your mouth before he murmurs against you. “can't fucking wait to fill you up properly, sweetheart. please tell me you're close.”

“i am, oh shit, i am!” you aren't lying, either - your legs are quivering as much as they can within the rope, and the pressure building in your lower stomach feels like it's about to reach breaking point. you're vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face and pooling on your chest, but all you can focus on right now is matty. “gonna cum, please, please let me cum.”

your husband leans forward, cock driving impossibly deep and lips ghosting over your ear. “do it, my darling. cum for me, let me give you a baby. our baby.”

and that's all it takes.

you cling to matty like a liferaft as your orgasm hits, although the more accurate nautical metaphor would be to liken him to an anchor; without him above you, hands digging into the flesh of your legs almost as much as the rope, you're certain you'd float away, buoyant from sheer fucking ecstasy. he cums with a guttural moan of your name as you clench around him, kissing you deeply as his thrusts get more and more shallow, and you don't think you've ever been more full, metaphorically (of love) and literally (of cum, crass as it sounds). once he's done, your husband nuzzles into the crook of your neck, both of you sweaty and breathing heavily.

for a few blissful minutes, you stay like that, weaving a hand into matty's messy curls and scratching his scalp while you exchange murmured “i love you”s. your eyes flick sideways to the alarm clock, and you tap his shoulder in a feeble attempt to get him to move. “sweetheart, we need to get cleaned up before we leave.”

“just give it another minute or two, darling,” matty mumbles into your skin; he pulls himself up just enough to kiss you, looking adoringly into your eyes. “have to make sure the baby sticks, after all.”

you giggle, stroking his flushed face with your thumb. “we'll miss seeing the fireworks from the cabin if we don't get a move on, though.”

“trust me, my love, you'll get your fireworks this weekend no matter when we leave.”

“whatever you say, mr. president.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #politician matty #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty x reader #summer75

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 3 months ago

Note

i love your donnaxreader oneshots 🥲❤️‍🩹 may i request some angst?

the reader has been friends with Donna since childhood, and they're so close that they know each other's deepest secrets. when donna's parents die, the reader tries to stay with her but her family forbids her to do so, and donna ends up all alone.

not knowing her reasons, donna kept to herself all those years despite wanting to reach out to reader. donna's in love with her still, she never did forget her.

fast forward years later, donna went to the duke's to buy expensive pieces of cloth for her dolls, you know, the usual. but that time, reader was there too and donna grabbed the opportunity to talk to her.

when they chatted, donna was caught off-guard having found out reader was getting married to someone else soon.

donna doesn't want that, so, ehem, smut happens. but make it fluffy thoughhh and like donna was so gentle to reader because she doesn't want to hurt her, yet she's very possessive because she doesn't want reader to leave her for the second time.

please, make it happy ending 🥲

Yessss!!!! Thank you for your words and for your request!!! I'm sorry, I think it's maybe too long :S I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :)))))

Come back to me

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem!! Reader

Warnings: smut, Minors DNI, angst, fluff, happy ending

Word count: 9,422 (Again, I'm sorry for it being too long)

Summary: After 18 years, she came back to you...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

“Look at me! I'm the undisputed queen of the place!” you said amused, dangerously climbing a tree.

“(Y/N), Get… Get down from there, you, you'll hurt yourself,” your friend said, holding her doll in an adorable way, looking at you worriedly.

“I'm invincible, Donna, didn't you know that? I'm… Ah!” you said embarrassedly, interrupted by a branch that creaked under your feet, making you fall into the snow and proving your best friend right.

“So… Invincible, huh?” she said, looking down at you with a mocking smile, extending a hand to help you up.

You took it and brushed the snow off your dress, with a bright blush on your cheeks.

“I'm sure the tree was bewitched by the enemy…” you murmured, making your friend laugh amusedly, shaking her head.

You had always heard that village was the least suitable place for a ten-year-old girl like you, but you never found a reason to take that mantra for granted.

Daughter of farmers, from a family devoted to Mother Miranda, the Black Gods and the three Lords, your life had not been very different from that of the rest of the children of your age. But, by chance, one day you went into the forest, due to your constant thirst for adventure, meeting the one who would be your best friend forever, Donna Beneviento.

She was two years older than you, but she was completely alone. Her family was important in the village, the makers of those porcelain dolls that even you had. Even so, her daughter was a complete mystery.

Rumors said she had been born with a deformity, that she had two faces, four arms, absurd legends. Donna was a normal girl, with the only flaw being the lack of her right eye, according to what she told you, due to an accident.

Her family seemed to be cursed, even her little sister, Claudia, passed away a couple of years ago due to a strange illness.

There were no secrets between you, even when you were younger, you forged a bond that you thought was inseparable. You dared to leave aside your friends from the village, those boring and normal children, to cross that dangerous bridge and spend afternoons and afternoons with your friend Donna, with your best friend.

Your parents did not look favorably on that friendship, since they were convinced that poor girl was mentally ill. It could be true, you checked it several times, you knew that the doll that her father made her, Angie, was her only means of communication with others, well, with anyone other than you.

But after checking that every night you came back safe and sound, they decided to stop worrying about you, at least not that much.

“One day you're going to hurt yourself, (Y/N)…” the young Beneviento sighed, shaking her head. “I, I wouldn't like anything to happen to you.”

“Nothing will happen to me,” you said, calmer, rubbing your back due to that resounding fall. “What do you say, Angie?” you asked amused, looking at the doll that Donna was holding, her most faithful companion.

“Sure, (Y/N) is invincible!” Donna replied in a squeaky voice, pretending to speak for the doll, pretending that the two of them were completely different, something that fascinated you.

“See?” you said in an amused whisper, approaching a small cliff, which bordered Donna's family's land. “Come on, Donna, let's play to see who can throw the rocks the farthest.”

“It's, it's dangerous,” the young girl murmured, hiding her fear behind Angie, approaching you with an unsure step. You scolded and made a gesture with your hand to downplay it, throwing the first rock.

“Look, Donna, look how far I threw it,” you said excitedly, comically hitting the shoulder of the older girl, who smiled shyly, bending down to get another rock.

“I think I won,” she said satisfied, thus beginning another of your usual competitions.

“We'll see about that,” you challenged, putting all your strength into that childish rock throwing, thus spending another fun time, another day that was supposed to be boring.

“Hey, (Y/N)…” Beneviento murmured, with a more serious tone “What, what are you going to do when you're older?”

“Oh, well…” you sighed, a bit confused by that question. “My parents say that I'll have to get married and… Well, I guess I'll follow the family tradition and take care of the farm.”

Donna opened her mouth moving her doll and nodded, sighing in a melancholic way.

“What about you?” you asked, relaxing your throwing and sitting on the ground, where your friend joined you. “I guess you won't have to work, right? Your parents have a lot of money.”

“My father is teaching me to make dolls like him,” the brunette explained, playing with a bunch of grass that the snow took pity on. “He says that when I grow up, I will take his place.”

“Oh…”you said, open-mouthed, listening attentively to your friend, who seemed increasingly sad. “How cool, so you can continue living in that big house.”

“I, I don't think it's cool, (Y/N)…” she murmured, with some resentment in her voice, stopping moving the doll, as if she didn't even want to include it in the conversation.

“Your house is amazing, and it has a very cool waterfall, we could play throwing ourselves down it,” you said amused, giving her a little nudge.

“We would die horribly, (Y/N),” she answered with a dark voice. “I, I don't know, if, if I could, I would… I would leave this village.”

“The village? Why?” you asked a bit surprised. You had always known that world. You didn't seem as uncomfortable as your friend living there.

“Everyone in the village thinks that… That I'm a monster… I, I'd like to wake up one day and see… The, the sun shining on the horizon and… Hear the, the sea waves,” she said, as if she wasn't talking to you, but to herself.

“You're not a monster, you're my friend,” you said, saddened by those words. “Hey, you, you're Italian, aren't you?”

She nodded slowly, holding back a sob.

“My, my family is Italian,” she whispered, angrily pulling out several of those herbs.

“That, that's great because, because there's sun there, and it has a lot of sea…” you said trying to cheer her up, trying to keep her from being taken away by her demons again. “I'm sure that when you're older, you'll have so much money that you'll be able to go wherever you want.”

“I don't know but… But I'd be alone again,” she said, looking at the ground again. You answered her with a smile and a bright face, getting up from the snow.

“Okay, would you take me with you?” you asked with a satisfied voice. “That way you wouldn't be alone.”

Donna stood up too, with a distrustful look, hugging the doll.

“Would you... Would you want to come with me?” Donna asked unsure, with a shy smile forming on her face.

“Of course, you're my friend, I would never leave you alone,” you said, nodding. She laughed happily and nodded enthusiastically.

“Really?” she asked, getting a little closer to you. “I would love to take you with me everywhere. Sure, it’s going to be quite funny.”

“Yes, we could play pirates in the sea and... And we could have everything we wanted. It would be great,” you fantasized, moving your arms in an exaggerated way.

“Yes, I... It would be great...” the young girl said, in a small voice.

“Mistress, Mistress Donna!” a male voice interrupted that endearing moment.

Josef, the family gardener ran towards you. He seemed nervous, upset, panting and putting his hands on your friend's shoulders.

“Josef, what's wrong? It's not dinner time yet,” Donna protested, speaking, as always, through her doll.

“Mistress Donna, I... I'm, I'm so sorry... Your, your parents have... They have...” the man said, bending down in front of the little girl, looking at her with deep sadness.

“My parents? What's wrong with them?” the doll asked.

The man looked at you and growled, looking back at his young mistress.

“Gods, Donna... They, they have...” he whispered, giving her the worst news she could have.

Totally unexpectedly, confirming the rumors of that cursed family, Lord and Lady Beneviento had decided to end their lives, throwing themselves down the estate's waterfall.

Poor Donna was left in shock, looking at the ground as the three of you returned to the house, while the gardener tried by all means to cheer up the young girl, without success.

You didn't know what to say, and you didn't want to either.

Your friend sobbed, hugging Angie in that gloomy mansion while Josef did what he could to comfort her.

“Why did they do it?” she sighed through tears, looking at you, who discreetly put a hand on her back, trying not to cry too. “Why, (Y/N)?”

“I, I don't know, Donna,” you whispered in a small voice, lost in your friend's sadness, guilty for having said that waterfall was the coolest thing in the world.

“I know, I'm sure it was my fault... They, they hated me,” the young Beneviento sobbed, leaning on your shoulder, pulling on your clothes desperately. “They hated me because I wasn't as perfect as Claudia.”

“Don't say that, Mistress,” -the gardener intervened, separating her from you so she wouldn't accidentally hurt you. “Your parents loved you very much.”

“Now, now I'm alone,” she murmured after a few moments of heartbreaking crying. That was a good time to do something for her. “They've left me alone...”

“You're not alone, Donna, I'm here with you,” you said with a voice more mature than your age indicated, with the tireless desire to make her feel good, to see a smile on your best friend's face again.

The clock struck the time in a sinister way. You couldn't miss dinner, your parents would be angry.

“You’re going to leave me too,” the girl whispered, hugging her doll and moving away from your comfort.

“No, I will never leave you,” you said in a firm voice. “Now, now I have to go but, but I promise you that tomorrow I will come to see you, and the day after, and the next day too, every day.”

“Really?” Donna asked, with tears in her only eye, with the hope of her soul still burning. “Will you come every day?”

“Yes, yes every day, every day. I told you that I would never leave you alone,” you repeated excited to be able to see some light in her eye.

“Promise me,” she said, now with a voice that emanated a deep darkness. “You have to promise me.”

“I promise you,” you said smiling, hugging your best friend for the last time, leaving her alone in her pain.

“Come on, little one…” Josef said, putting a hand on your back to guide you towards the door, leaving Donna crying inconsolably again. “Mistress Donna is very lucky to have you, (Y/N).”

“She is my best friend, sir,” you murmured, taking one last look at that mess of tears and increasingly unhinged screams.

You didn't know it, but that would be the last time you would see her, the last time you would walk through those woods.

“Mm, it was to be expected,” your father murmured during dinner. “Those two freaks…”

“Poor girl…” your mother sighed, of course, joining your father's monologue about what had happened. “First it was her sister and then…”

“Don't pity her, Rose, I've always told you that family is cursed,” the man interrupted.

You didn't say anything. You just looked at your food, not hungry, not wanting to do anything other than being with your friend in those horrible moments.

“Let's hope the Black Gods take pity on their souls,” your mother said in a solemn tone, joining her hands to emphasize her devotion.

“Nonsense, those Beneviento have never had the favor of the Gods, I’m sure, I knew Giuseppe,” your father said, remembering that brief friendship with the family patriarch, that conversation he had with him the day you got lost in the woods and met Donna.

“You only spoke to him once, Dimitri,” your mother corrected, always being a little more sensible.

“Enough to realize that he was totally out of his mind,” he said, haughtily, drinking from his glass of wine. “And the same will happen to his daughter, you'll see…”

“Where are you going, (Y/N)?” your father asked when you, fed up with that horrible conversation, got up from the table. “You haven't had dinner.”

“I'm not hungry, father,” you whispered, with a tear in your eyes threatening to betray your sadness.

That night, you could only think about Donna, only about her sad look, about her desire to be better than her parents, to leave the village, a feeling she had and you didn't. Maybe if you hadn't distracted her, they could... No, you couldn't think that way. At that moment the most important thing was to take care of her, to keep your promise.

“I'll come at dinner time,” you said the next day, picking up your backpack, ready to see your friend, to spend the day with her, something that normally wasn't a problem for your parents. That day, the smiles turned into silence.

“Hey, hey, young lady, where do you think you're going?” your father asked, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Donna's house, father,” you said sincerely. He put on a cold look and shook his head.

“No, no way, (Y/N),” he said in a stern voice, closing the door with a loud bang. “You will not go to that house again.”

“But, but father...” you protested incredulously at that strange attitude.

“Don't protest, young lady. I forbid it,” he insisted, abruptly removing your backpack from your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

“Dimitri, what harm can a little company do to that poor girl?” your mother protested, unsuccessfully trying to change his mind.

“That little nutcase brat doesn't worry me, I worry about (Y/N), what will happen if she loses her mind and hurts her?” your father said, raising his tone.

“She won't hurt me, father, she's my friend!” you shrieked in a childish way, desperate for that unexpected prohibition. –

“Your friend? Ha, she's a crazy, sick girl and she's not a good company for you,” he said, with a slightly calmer tone.

“Come on, darling, they've been friends for a long time and they've never…” your mother said, discreetly taking your side.

“Her parents didn't seem to pose any threat either, did they Rose? And look where they are now, at the bottom of the river. No, no, those things are inherited and I'm not going to allow that brat to hurt our daughter.”

“But father, I promised her, I promised her that I would be with her!” you protested again.

“There's nothing to say, (Y/N), forget about that Beneviento and start being what is expected of you,” your father whispered, moving away from you.

“Mom…” you whispered, pulling at your mother's dress.

She sighed and shook her head, with a different look.

“I'm sorry, (Y/N), but your father is right. That girl is not right in the head, honey…” your mother said, making you open your eyes in surprise at that change of mind.

“She is not right because she is alone, she needs me,” you pleaded, with tears already running down your cheeks.

“Nonsense,” your father muttered, ending that conversation, the worst of your life. “What she needs is to be locked up with that horrible doll. I'm not going to argue anymore, (Y/N), obey or there will be consequences.”

You couldn't do anything. It didn't matter how many times you cried, how many times you screamed, how many slaps you received for your insistence. You couldn't keep your promise.

Donna was left alone, you stopped being her friend involuntarily, forced to be with your mother and learn things that a good villager should know. You didn't want to play with anyone, the excitement typical of a girl your age faded after a few days, when you realized that, in truth, you would never see your friend again.

But you saw her, years later.

Accustomed to the idea of having lost her, your life continued. You continued to grow. You continued to make your parents proud. Only an old photograph, taken by the old gardener, reminded you that you once had a friend, the best friend, and that you, you had failed her.

Being already a teenager, you discovered something disturbing, something that made you remember again what your sin had been, what had been the promise you could not keep.

Apparently, Mother Miranda had adopted a new daughter, one who would sit next to the rest of the Lords, as powerful as them, as fearsome as them. It didn't seem like something that interested you, until you heard her name: Donna Beneviento.

Your old friend was now in church, dressed entirely in black, with a veil covering her face, always accompanied by Angie, who seemed more alive than before.

She was no longer a child, she was a woman, like you, and you watched her every day, every time there was a mass, every time her dark gaze seemed to penetrate your insides. The years passed like a painful clock that never stopped counting the seconds, the hours that passed since that involuntary betrayal.

You could have apologized. You could have begged her to believe you, to be friends again. You didn't, you couldn't do it.

She was now a Lord, you were still a simple villager. The difference in power was overwhelming. Your attendance at mass was discreet, always trying to escape from her nonexistent gaze, sitting in the back row to avoid being recognized.

You knew she was watching you, you could feel it. But you, you didn't do anything. You didn't feel strong enough to do it, you felt ashamed, hurt for not being there for her when she needed you. The reasons didn't matter, what mattered was that you were her only friend, and you left her alone.

That shame for your past mistakes haunted you every day, every time you saw her black figure, her elegant walk, every time Donna Beneviento was present and you pretended not to be.

18 years after the fall of Beneviento…

“Don't let him fool you, (Y/N),” your tired mother said, sending you on errands as usual. You rolled your eyes and smiled, shaking your head.

“Not even someone like the Duke would be able to fool me,” you joked, picking up the list of items your parents wanted, frowning when you read one of them. “White fabric with ruffles? Mom…”

“It's the best, you'll look beautiful with that,” the woman said, with a tender smile, running her hand over your cheek, which you pushed away when you remembered the only thing you tried to forget day by day and that was getting closer and closer.

“I'd be prettier if you'd just leave me alone,” you hissed furiously, changing your happy face to a dark one, to one that indicated that your stomach was turning at the thought of it.

“It's for your own sake, darling, for the sake of...” she said, knowing that this horrible decision didn't make you the slightest bit happy.

“Yes, yes... For the sake of the family, I know,” you whispered with irony. “Like everything you do, right? It's all for my own sake.”

“(Y/N)...” your mother sighed, with an understanding look.

“Forget it, I have to go,” you said, trying not to argue again, not to make known your opinion about what your family wanted, what they thought, wrongly, was the best for you.

The village had long since ceased to be comfortable for you, a peaceful place to live. With your head now mature, with your feelings constantly battered, you remembered those desires to flee that your old friend had. Now, you understood why she wanted to leave and not look back.

“(Y/N),” a voice distracted you from your complaints, a girl you knew, and that you didn't want to see.

“Mihaela,” you said listlessly, stopping in your tracks. “I'm a bit busy right now.”

“Yes, well I... I wanted, I wanted you to know that my husband isn't home this afternoon and that... I, I'd like you to come,” she said shyly.

You laughed, thinking about it, but finally, you shook your head.

“I can't go this afternoon,” you lied, fleeing from one of the many sexual encounters you had with the young woman.

“Oh, well, but…” the young woman insisted, getting a little closer to you.

“I said no, I can't,” you said abruptly, regretting it instantly. “We, we'll see each other another day,” you finished, fleeing from the insane obsession that girl had for you.

Yes, you may have been an ordinary village girl, but your tastes were not ordinary. Nothing you could feel was tied to a man. The more you grew, the more your interest in women did, an interest that would be definitive.

You had lovers, one-night stands with girls from the village, but, for some reason, none of them made you feel loved, none of them managed to make you fall in love. Because of the situation you were in, that feeling of helplessness was almost unbearable.

“Miss (Y/N), it's a pleasure to see you in my humble shop,” the village merchant, the Duke said, when you approached that sinister carriage.

You smiled at him in a false way and threw the list at him in an unpleasant way.

“Oh... Very well,” the merchant murmured, looking at you over that sheet of paper. “I suppose you're nervous about the great day, aren't you?”

You laughed mockingly.

“Yes, look at my excited face,” you joked, pointing at yourself. “Do you have it or not?”

“Take a look back there,” he murmured, indicating the back of the carriage, where you walked slowly, running your hand over the fabrics he used to sell that were neither white nor ruffled.

“Oh... Lady Beneviento...” the Duke said, causing you to immediately raise your head and your body to stiffen.

“Duke, Duke!” a shrill voice disturbed your ears. It wasn't Donna's voice, it was… It was Angie's voice.

You, with your whole body trembling, looked out. Indeed, the lady in black was in front of the merchant, holding a rickety Angie in her arms.

It had been so long since you had been so close to her that your first move was to hide, to avoid her seeing you, recognizing you. No, anything before having to face your own betrayal, a Lord, who you knew what she was capable of and who, surely, hated you.

“Do you have fabrics?” Angie asked, with a darker voice.

“Of course I have,” the Duke said, amused. “The best ones for you, my lady.”

“We'll see about that,” the doll mocked in a scornful tone.

The lady began to look around too close to you. Her pale hands gently touched the fabrics on the counter, checking their quality. Your eyes followed them, followed those hands that seemed soft, that delicate touch.

Donna was your friend, you betrayed her. She was your friend and because of you now, now she was... A monster.

“Don't you have anything better?” the puppet asked again, following the gestures of its owner, who was looking at the merchant through that disturbing black veil.

“Try back there,” he said, disinterested, counting a pile of coins that the lady handed him, pointing with his head to the worst possible place, the place where you were.

“Shit,” you whispered, running to hide behind the carriage, with such bad luck that you tripped on one of the Duke's absurd trinkets, crashing to the ground.

A sinister laugh sounded behind you.

“Clumsy, clumsy, clumsy, clumsy village girl,” the Angie doll pointed at you, humming mockingly. You groaned in defeat, trying to get up clumsily.

A hand grabbed your arms, pulling you up. The lavender scent intoxicated your senses and in front of you, you could only see a black figure, Donna. She had helped you up and now, now she was in front of you.

“Th, thanks,” you said, looking away, turning around to flee from that horrible situation. You couldn't, a hand grabbed your arm, preventing you from continuing to walk.

“(Y/N)…” a hoarse whisper came from the black veil, forcing your body to turn slowly, forcing you to lower your gaze further. “Is it…? Is it you?”

“I don't... I think, I think you’ve mistaken me with someone else, my lady,” you said nervously, playing with your gaze not to match hers. Her hand didn't let you go, gently pulling you when you tried to run away again.

“Non mi mentire...” she whispered, with a melodic voice, one that had changed a bit, but was still recognizable, taking you back to your childhood.

“I, I don't lie, my lady,” you said without thinking, closing your eyes for having fallen into that little trap. “Oh, fu...”

“Yes, it's you,” the lady in black whispered, with a slightly happier voice, with a tone a bit higher than a simple and almost inaudible whisper. “You understood me.”

“I... I...” you stammered, unable to flee, to escape, to deny again and again something that she already knew, that it was you, her friend, the friend who betrayed her. “I...”

“(Y/N), don’t, don't you remember me?” she asked out of place, with a tremor in her hand that you already knew.

“I remember you, Donna,” you whispered, embarrassed, looking away from the lady, subtly removing her warm hand from your arms.

“It’s, it's been a long time, hasn't it?” she stammered, with the Angie doll looking at you suspiciously. “How long has it been?”

“18 years,” you whispered, trapped in that horrible conversation, one that you never wanted to have again, that you would never be able to have again.

“Yes, I…” she murmured, nervous, also looking everywhere. “You're always, always so far away in the sermons that… I, I wasn't sure if it was really you.”

“I guess it was me,” you said shyly, with your body shaking at the same time as hers. “I, I'm sorry but… I have things to do and…” you murmured, making a second attempt to flee, one frustrated again by a strong grip on your arm.

“No, no, please don't go,” the lady in black said, approaching you again with a pleading, nervous tone. “Wait, please.”

“Donna I…” you said quietly, repressing a sob, a cry you wanted to release for having met her again and being unable to say anything but vague things. “I, I'm glad to see you but… I have, I have, I have to…”

“Please, (Y/N), it's, it's been so many years,” she insisted, her voice getting weaker. “Don't go away again now that I've found you.”

Well, that was a good argument, which made you sigh, rub your eyes and nod reluctantly.

“Okay, okay,” you whispered, breathing hard, but giving up trying to separate yourself from her, who let you go and started playing with her hands.

“I, I'd like to talk to you... I have, I have a lot of things to tell you...” she sighed, her voice becoming less and less clear, saying with her words what her hidden gaze couldn't. “I know you're busy but please... I...”

“Well, well, I guess it wouldn't be a problem if...” you murmured unsurely, running a hand over your neck, searching for some sanity in your attitude, some of the courage you lacked when you left her alone.

“Ahem,” the Duke interrupted, clearing his throat in an exaggerated way, drawing your attention.

“I don't think this is the best place for it,” you said with a subtle smile, narrowing your eyes at the merchant, who laughed mockingly.

“No, certo, I... Do you want...? Do you want to come to my house? We can, we can have tea, a real one,” Donna said, clenching her hands tighter, her knuckles white from the pressure.

“Come, come home, silly, you'll have fun…” the doll said, pulling your dress in a comical way, something that made you shudder. That doll was alive, just as the rumors said.

“I… Um… Okay, okay,” you finally said, giving up.

A tender laugh came from that horrible black veil at the same time that the lady turned around, picking up the doll from the ground and leaving the Duke's shop.

The walk was tense, terribly tense. Going through those doors, that bridge, made all the memories of your childhood assault you at the same time. That place didn't seem the same, it seemed much wilder, neglected, surely due to the lack of that gardener, who was rumored to have been murdered by Lady Beneviento.

The weeds covered the gates, the paths, there was nothing left of that cozy atmosphere, of those perfectly cared plants, there was only a landscape that became more gloomy as you advanced, making you even consider running away, fearing that her anger would be directed at you, and rightly so.

The old mansion was still there, just like the rest of the landscape, eaten away by time, by the years, like a reflection of Donna herself, a neglected and dark being, a sinister place for a sinister woman.

“Come, come in,” the woman said, kindly opening the door for you.

The smell of humidity penetrated your nose immediately, a familiar smell enhanced by all those years of neglect. The mansion wasn’t as you remembered it, the curtains prevented the light from illuminating the place, mold grew freely in the corners. Pieces of cloth, disordered books, the house of a sick woman, Donna's house.

“Sorry, (Y/N), this is a bit… Messy,” she said, noticing your pitiful look at that place, how it had changed in your memories. “I, I don’t get many visitors. No visitors, actually.”

“Am I the first?” you asked in a small voice, something that made your friend laugh again, in that shy way you knew.

“Yes, you are,” she said amused, guiding you towards a small corner, the corner where you used to play tea when you were little girls, now covered by that same sinister darkness. “Get, get comfortable, please. I’m going, I’m going to make the tea.”

“Fine,” you sighed, letting yourself fall on the sofa, raising a cloud of dust that made you cough, something that, apparently, amused that sinister doll.

“(Y/N), huh?” the puppet asked, looking at you from too close, making you even more uncomfortable. “I’ve heard a lot of things about you…”

“Have you?” you asked confused, shifting on the couch to get away from that sinister gaze. “It's funny, don't you remember me?”

“You? No,” Angie said simply. “I only see you in Donna's memories.”

“Well, you used to be part of our adventures,” you said, trying by all means to be nice, not to disturb the calm of that demonic doll. Angie simply shrugged.

“Here, here is the tea,” Donna said, appearing shortly after, leaving a tray on the table and sitting in front of you, as she did before.

Everything seemed so the same and so different at the same time that your nerves didn’t allow your hands to stop shaking, bringing your cup to your mouth with distrust.

“Is it to your liking? Is it too hot?” the lady asked, worried when she saw your cold expression. You faked a smile and shook your head.

“It's, it's okay,” you said with another fake smile, leaving the cup back on the table, enduring another moment of uncertain silence, of nervous breathing.

With your hands now free, you looked for something to touch, something to start a conversation that you hoped would end soon.

A porcelain doll, leaning on the side of the sofa, caught your attention and you slowly picked it up, observing every detail.

“I see that you finally followed in your father's footsteps,” you commented quietly, putting that doll back in its place. “I thought you would leave.”

“I couldn't,” she whispered abruptly, clenching her fists again. “When I was old enough I... I wanted to, I wanted to leave but... Mother Miranda took pity on me and adopted me, naming me Lord. Besides, I... I couldn't leave without... Well, it doesn't matter.”

“I see,” you sighed, increasingly uncomfortable. “Well, Lord sounds much better than doll maker,” you said amused.

“At least now I'm part of something,” Donna said, with a serious tone, as if she was looking away, something that made you notice her black veil again.

“Why are you covering your face?” you asked suddenly, wanting to satisfy the curiosity that contradicted your desire to leave that place. “There's nothing wrong with not having an…”

Donna sighed, lowering her head and bringing her trembling hands to the black cloth, removing it with an elegant movement.

You were a bit shocked by what you saw. Donna Beneviento had become a really beautiful woman, but that scar, that part of her face she was ashamed of had suffered a horrible transformation, turning into a bulging abscess that covered part of her right side.

“The Black Gods don't give gifts in exchange for nothing, (Y/N),” she murmured, embarrassed by her new appearance, nervously wringing the black cloth in her hands.

“Well, it’s, it's not that bad,” you said, calming an impending nervous breakdown by doing the same thing you did when you were little, pushing away her fears with an amused smile. “Look, you can hardly tell.”

The lady pushed your hands away when they approached her hair, trying to hide her scar under it. You stepped back, biting your lip. It didn't really matter what her appearance was, she was still a terribly beautiful woman.

She smiled more calmly, fixing the hair you moved, shaking her head.

“You haven't changed at all, (Y/N),” she murmured, without looking at your face, leaving the black veil on the table, sighing sadly but with the emotion of nostalgia in her gaze.

“Well, I don't climb trees now,” you joked, drinking some more tea, relaxed by being able to look at her face, by being able to see your friend again, at least a shadow of what she was.

“Now you climb women,” she whispered with a different voice. You gulped at that comment, your cheeks flushed.

“I see a Lord knows everything,” you said with a broken, nervous voice.

“Only what I want to know,” she corrected abruptly, blinking erratically.

After that somewhat sinister statement, silence came again to that disturbing place. You, nervous, tried not to make any comment but, as always, your curiosity spoke for you. You wish it hadn't.

“They say you killed Josef,” you commented, looking away from her pale skin, from her beauty that was screaming to be admired.

“I did,” she answered without any problem, with a cold look that pierced your soul.

“Why, Donna?” you asked disappointed by that statement, by the legend that stopped being one with a few cold words. “He was good to you.”

“It's none of your business, (Y/N),” she hissed, almost breaking her cup with the grip of her hands. Shortly after, she closed her eye, as if trying to control her nerves. “I had to do it, that's all.”

“Of course,” you said with a slightly ironic tone, with one that was dying to leave your lips. “Everything that happens to you stopped being my business 18 years ago, Donna.”

“You were the one who abandoned me,” she reproached you, giving light to a resentment that you were sure she felt. It was the moment of truth. “You were the one who stopped being interested in me.”

“Well, then why didn't you kill me too?” you said, getting up from the couch, waving your arms, letting your own guilt consume your insides, speaking in that way to the one who was once your best friend.

“Why would I do that?” the lady asked, standing up as well, in a furious tone, kicking the small table, causing the cups to shake dangerously.

“You said it, I abandoned you. I left you alone when you needed me, I... I failed you, Donna,” you said furiously too, letting the tears run down your cheeks, losing your nerves just like her. “Don't pretend you don't hold a grudge against me, I see it in your gaze.”

“I can't blame you for not wanting to be with a monster like me,” she whispered, also with her eye full of tears.

“Do you think it's about that? Do you think I would abandon you because of what people said about you?” you asked back, leaving the small corner and looking for calm in your thoughts. You didn't find it.

“I don't know what it could be about then,” she commented calmer, but with the same marked accent, one that revealed her internal rage.

“Oh, it, it wasn't my fault,” you said, shaking your head, running a hand through your hair. “My, my parents, they, they forbade me to see you, they told me that I was in danger by your side.”

“They weren't wrong,” Donna said, whispering dangerously, with a haughty posture.

“Of course they were wrong! You, you were my best friend, Donna…” you sighed, biting your tongue to avoid saying anything else against yourself, to avoid saying that you could have looked for her, but you didn't.

“You were my only friend, (Y/N),” the doll maker said, without removing that dark look from her face.

“Oh, Donna,” you sighed sobbing and doing something that you had wanted to do for years, throwing yourself into her arms, hugging her, feeling her with you again.

The lady was surprised, but she didn't take long to return that hug, holding you tightly against her body, letting your tears wet your dresses without saying anything, just crying, letting out those feelings that neither of you knew how to express.

“Donna…” you sighed again, soaking in her essence, letting her hands embrace you as she trembled, hugged you tightly, sobbed the same way you did. “I've missed you so much…”

“Me, me too,” she answered. “I, I haven't stopped thinking about you all this time… I…”

“Good, good!” the doll squealed, clapping comically. “Hug, hug!”

The two of you looked at each other and laughed, separating, letting your hands join slowly, swinging between your bodies. You caressed hers with your thumb, losing yourself in the softness of her skin, in her warmth, the one you hadn't forgotten.

“Forgive me, Donna, please. I shouldn't have left you alone, I should have been with you,” you said pleadingly, with a sincere voice, with sincere feelings.

“That doesn't matter anymore, (Y/N),” she whispered, letting your hands go and running one of them over your cheek, making you cry even more, with a splendid smile. “What, what matters is that you're back, you're back by my side.”

You, perhaps too excited by that encounter, by the return of your childhood memories, did something crazy, approaching Donna and kissing her quickly on the lips, the fruit of joy, of being with the only person who understood you again.

She didn't react. She just smiled more widely, blinking confusedly.

“I'm sorry, I got too excited,” you said nervously, biting your lip and trying to control your breathing.

Donna laughed again, with a wider smile, caressing your cheek again.

“You were always so fiery…” she whispered amused, slowly moving her hand away, moving away from you.

“I guess I haven't changed that much,” you said, nervous by that unexpected kiss, by that softness that you didn't imagine, by that act that came from the depths of your heart. “But I think those days of fieryness are over for me.”

You, sighing, letting your duties come back to haunt you, walked through the mansion, shaking your head.

“Why do you say that?” the lady asked, chasing you nervously, turning you slowly, with an intriguing look.

“Well, I...” you murmured, showing your left hand, where a tacky ring decorated your finger. “I'm engaged.”

“Fi, fi, fidanzata...” she murmured confusedly, stammering, as if a jar of ice water had suddenly fallen on her.

“Yes, I'm afraid so,” you sighed, nodding with a sad look, letting yourself fall on the sofa again.

Donna frowned, unable to control the new trembling of her body, approaching you as if she were stalking you.

“Are you getting married?” she asked abruptly, squeezing her hands on either side of her hips, looking at you with an irrational hatred that you were unable to perceive.

“Yes, with Ivan, the boy from the weaver family. He's a jerk, but deep down he's a good boy,” you explained sighing, looking at that cheap jewel on your finger, wishing it would disappear from there by magic.

“With a boy?” Donna asked with that same distrustful tone, with a slow step and a dark air in her gaze.

“Oh, well yes, it's a marriage of convenience,” you said passively, standing up again when you saw the brunette's nervous attitude. “What's wrong with you?”

“What's wrong with me?” she asked with a look of hatred. “You're getting married?”

“It's not my thing, Donna, it was my parents' idea,” you said with a serious tone, crossing your arms. She laughed nervously, with irony adorning that sardonic smile.

“It's always your parents, isn't it? They are to blame for everything,” she hissed, shaking her head, as if that happiness had suddenly vanished, as if it had never existed.

“Yes, that is a pretty accurate statement,” you said arrogantly, frowning. “What do you care?”

“That, that's not fair,” Donna murmured, shaking her head, controlling the trembling of her hand with the other, preventing madness from taking over her again. “You, you can't.”

“Of course it's unfair, that's life,” you whispered, letting all the air out of your lungs.

“No, no, no, you can't, you can't do this to me…” she said, talking to herself, her hands pulling at her hair. “You can't!”

“What's wrong with you?” you asked, annoyed by her attitude, by not understanding the reason for her anger. “Now you worry about me? You could have done it 10 years ago, don't you think?” you said unintentionally, blaming Donna for your misfortune, blaming her for not going to save you, for not taking you with her to Italy, as she promised, as you promised before everything got out of control.

“Cazzo, (Y/N)!” she shouted furiously, kicking the dining table hard, knocking over several chairs in an outburst of fury that you watched in astonishment. “You can't marry someone you don't love!”

“But…” you hissed, now with rage controlling your words, your cocky pose, your irrational hatred for the lady in black, your hatred for not having been rescued when you could have been, when you broke your promise, and she broke hers. “What do you know, Donna? What do you know about love?”

“I know more than you think!” she shrieked, approaching you in a threatening manner, grabbing you firmly by the collar of your dress, with a furious eye, bloodshot, with hatred. “I know what it's like to spend years dreaming of seeing you knock on my door. I know what it's like to see you in sermons, to see how you run away from me, how you don't even dare to look at my face, I know what it's like to cry because I know that you will never feel for me the same as I have felt for you for so long… I know what it's like to love you, (Y/N).”

You were left speechless at that unexpected declaration. Tears spoke for you again, running down your cheeks. Your breathing stopped, your heart stopped beating, writhing in pain, stirring for you to hear it, for you to hear those same feelings you had repressed for so long.

But that revelation didn't really matter, that sea of feelings you had kept inside for so long, hers, the love she said she felt for you. You already suffered for her once, you thought about her every day, you sat in the back row, but your eyes always went to her. A lost friendship that became a subtle obsession, an abyss full of guilt and things you didn't think you could feel for another person.

Once again, it was too late, no matter who was to blame.

“I'm so glad to see you again, Donna,” you whispered, turning around, trying not to look at the lady in black, who was crying inconsolably, controlling her anger, shaking her head as if she wanted to wake up from a nightmare. “I guess we'll see each other around here.”

She didn't answer, she simply sobbed, closing her eye and nodding, not wanting to see you leave her again.

You walked slowly towards the exit, with your mind torturing each of your steps, with your heart hurt by the reality of your feelings, your attitude. You were never able to love, to feel love for anyone, you didn't know why. But, after that argument, you began to see your problem clearly.

Donna was always in your dreams, when you grew up, she began to be like a ghost that you wanted to chase. When you were a child, you wanted to play with her, to be her best friend. When you grew up, that wasn't enough for you.

The guilt of having abandoned her joined with a feeling of anxiety and obsession that began to consume you little by little. You didn't care that she was a Lord, that a black veil covered her face. She was still Donna, your best friend, a friend who stopped being one, and with whom you fell in love little by little, for the simple fact of not being able to have her by your side.

The door creaked open and the cold cut your face. Furious and tired, you turned around to look at her once more, to be able to remember her as she was, and not as the village said. It was a bad decision, but a good one at the same time.

“Gods, what... What am I doing?” you asked yourself, slamming the door and running back through the entrance.

With a firm step, you reached the lady in black, throwing yourself at her lips, letting yourself be invaded by your feelings, by her kisses, by that improvised act that your body and your heart were dying to see you doing.

“(Y/N)…” Donna interrupted, not letting your kisses continue, the salty taste of your tears continue to mix on your lips. “Please, don’t, don't get married…”

“Ask me again, come on,” you said, gently hitting her chest, demanding to hear that request again, demanding that her feelings allow you to commit a madness.

“Don't get married,” Donna repeated, resting her forehead against yours, cupping your face in her hands.

You grabbed her wrists, letting more tears flow, losing yourself in the lavender.

“Again,” you whispered, holding her tightly. “Again.”

“Don't get married, stay with me…” she said, sobbing, as if the revelation had also clouded her senses. Her words were barely whispers, but they sounded like uncontrolled screams in your heart.

“I don't want to get married,” you sobbed, kissing her again, with your wild, wandering lips, with your hands running over her waist, pulling her, barely letting her breathe.

“Then don't do it,” she said with a slightly more serious voice, with her cold gaze penetrating yours.

You didn't answer, the kisses simply returned, they became hungry and messy. You could feel her hands traveling through your hair, your waist, your legs. It was an uncontrolled dance, without brakes, that went faster and faster.

The gasps replaced the sobs, the tears. Your bodies moved on their own, driven only by a blinding passion, by intense, immortal, eternal feelings. Kisses, caresses, love…

A trio of words that vaguely defined what was happening, how your steps began to crash against the walls, how her neck became your target, your playground, your safe place.

Donna accepted those kisses with a satisfied moan, with an anxious sigh as she searched for some corner, a crack in your dress so she could have the honor of touching your skin, of taking you to those same sensations you provoked.

There were no words, there was nothing, only gasps, only passion, only the sound of her back hitting the wall, her nervous movements when your leg was placed between hers and your skillful fingers began an unfair battle against the buttons of her dress.

Her slender fingers scratched your covered back, her hips danced discreetly against your leg, the gasps became more intense, the kisses wilder. Growling like an animal, you grabbed one of her legs, running your nails along the soft skin of her thighs, cursing that horrible black fabric for hiding such a brilliant beauty.

Donna pulled away, taking your hand and desperately guiding you towards the sofa, leaving her chest uncovered by your mischievous hands, lying down, dragging you on top of her while your own dress gave way to her discreet hands.

“(Y/N)…” the lady in black moaned, letting you push aside the fabric that separated you from her skin, that deprived your lips of the addictive taste of her body.

Neck, collarbone, breasts, everything was delicious for your lips, for your desire. She panted nervously, looking for something to entertain herself with, some part of your body that was just as attractive to her. Kisses, she only wanted some crazy kisses, kisses from you, from that girl who abandoned her, who threatened to do it again.

There was more and more clothing on the floor, and less on your body. Her hands were less careful, focusing on forbidden places, on parts of your legs that seemed unreachable.

For you, there was nothing else, there had been nothing else in over 16 years, Donna, just Donna.

Her skin, her sighs, her gasps, those little moans she let out were like fuel for your body, like gasoline so you could move how you wanted, where you wanted.

Soon there were no clothes, just sweat, just your lips moving down her body, worshiping the beautiful woman she had become, worshiping Donna, always Donna.

Her hand in your hair signaled for you to continue, you weren't going to stop, there would be nothing that could stop you, not even your stupid parents.

Her wetness betrayed her own desire. The taste of her arousal was sweet, intense, just as addictive as her kisses. Her body moved confused by your actions, confused by a naughty finger that slowly played with her clit, making her close her eye in shame.

More fuel for your lust. Dazzled by her caresses, by her soft hands in your hair, by those sounds she made, you immersed yourself in her wetness, caressing her with your tongue, making her shudder at your touch, at your not-so-innocent kisses. Your fingers took over from your mouth, entering inside of her, taking refuge in her excited heat.

You had never felt such intense pleasure just by touching a woman, there was nothing in that dirty village that resembled the perfection of her body, her moans, the perfection of Donna Beneviento.

Her back arched and her moans turned into high-pitched screams. Your hands comforted her, helped her to release keeping her close, as if your body was begging you to never leave again.

But that wasn't the end, just the beginning.

If you had to speak without knowing, you would say that Donna would be clumsy, even too rough in her actions, in making you hers, hers forever. Quite the opposite, she wasn't like that. You didn't know if you were the first, you didn't know if there had been other women before, you didn't want to know, just thinking about it made you want to scream with rage.

None of that mattered, only that sweetness mattered, those kisses, those tender words in Italian that watered your ears, that moved your body while she adored yours. You would never have imagined that delicacy, those fingers trying not to hurt you, not to run, trying to feel your whole body without fear of you leaving.

Her slow kisses were almost ardent, the movement of her hips was hypnotic, her fingers danced softly inside of you, her eye looked into yours with desire, with love, true love that you never believed possible.

Sex, moans, hips coming together, a thousand and one ways to give each other pleasure. For a moment, your life was reduced only to that and, in your madness, in your unbridled passion, you wished it would never end.

Her hands went wild, her arms wrapped around you tightly as your wetness rubbed together.

You could see, for a moment, that darkness in her gaze again, that desire to hold you in the strength of her embrace, of the scratches on your back, marking you, claiming you as hers forever, bringing out that possessiveness, that attitude of not wanting to lose what was already hers.

After an uncertain time, it ended, and the gasps and moans were replaced by nervous breathing, by Donna's strong and unbreakable embrace of your naked body, so you would stay on her chest, so the lavender would also be part of you.

Like a cruel return to the past, the clock rang with a shrill tone, alerting you to the worst moment of your life, when you were nothing but a child: the horrible moment of returning home.

“Donna…”you sighed sadly, releasing yourself from her embrace, struggling with her, who protested with a moan. “I have, I have to go.”

“You're leaving me again,” she sighed, wetting her cheeks again, struggling unsuccessfully to regain your warmth in hers.

“I wouldn't do it if I could,” you murmured, looking for your clothes and dressing slowly. She nodded, covering herself timidly, with a lost look.

“You can, but you don't want to,” Donna sighed, stabbing your heart.

“Are you going to explain to my parents that I'm not going to get married?” you said frustrated, putting on your dress. “That I'm leaving my life, my duties to stay with you, with a Lord?”

She shook her head, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“Marry me then,” she whispered, making you turn your head quickly, surprised by those words.

“What? Have you gone crazy?” you said confused, rubbing your eyes. “Donna…”

“If your parents care that much about you getting married… Do it with me,” she explained, with a desperate tone.

You sighed, running a hand over the back of your neck. You might think it was a joke but you knew Donna, you knew she was completely serious.

“It's not… That easy,” you whispered, letting yourself fall on the couch, exhausted, tired and hopelessly in love.

“Let them dare to oppose, (Y/N), we are not two little girls anymore, no one could do anything to stop us…. From loving each other. Please, (Y/N), sposami…”

“Donna, I… I, I don't know what to say… It’s, it's been so long and… And now…” you stammered, your heartbeat getting stronger, your heart already having the answer.

“It may have been a while, (Y/N), but, but I love you, I have never, never stopped and I will never stop loving you… I, I couldn't bear to lose you again without doing something about it,” she said, taking your hand, looking with disgust at that annoying ring.

“Will you take me to Italy?” you asked in a murmur, with an involuntary smile appearing on your face.

“I can't, I can't get out of…” she said, confused, silenced by a finger on her lips.

“I know, but… Would you do it if you were able to?” you asked again, slowly taking the ring off your finger, throwing it away, through the mansion.

She nodded with tears in her eye, with a sincere, beautiful smile.

“I would take you wherever you wanted, as… As long as you were with me,” she whispered, approaching your lips again, kissing them slowly, passionately, with love. “I would do anything for you.”

“Would you buy me a ring?” you asked amused, forgetting your fears, with the most important decision of your life already made. “One better than that trinket…”

“So…? So you, you want…?” Donna stammered nervously, squeezing your hands tightly.

“Yes, Donna, I can't think of a better company for the rest of my life…”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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allaboutnayeli · 11 months ago

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Hi! I loved your fic lovely jokester! I was wondering if you could do a part 2?

Basically reader deals with flirting and clumsiness when the team goes out for drinks to celebrate something?

Love your work 💕💕

lovely jokester pt2 [a.bonmati x reader]

prompt: aitana likes your jokes way more when she is drunk and being clumsy.

author notes: thank you 💞 i hope this is what you wanted. this is way more stupid than the first one so enjoy.

barcelona has once again won another match and this time around the team decided to go out to celebrate. it was the middle of season, so celebrating is a nice gift for all the hard work the team has been putting in so far this season.

you would think you would give the flirty jokes a break (your teammates wished you did), but no you have to continue being annoying like always. good thing this time around aitana was willing to indulge to your (loving) stupidity.

the team has been out drinking and eating for about a whole hour at this point. you are little tipsy, but not enough to cause concern. meanwhile your girlfriend has been sipping on cocktails since the team got to the restaurant. you have one arm resting on the table and the other around aitana's waist. she's leaning her head against your shoulder as she sips on some fruity cocktail patri gave her a while ago.

the team is spread out across the restaurant with some at the table, some at the bar and others on the dance floor.

with it basically just being you and aitana at the table, you decide it's the perfect time to strike again.

"bebe..." you say mischievously as you turn your head a bit to look at your girlfriend. she smiles up at you. too drunk to really care about the trouble making expression you had on that beautiful face of yours. however, salma and claudia did notice that look you had. they weren't about to listen to another one of your cringey jokes. "don't even think about it" claudia says as she glares at you. salma gives you glare as well.

none of their warnings mattered when aitana was still smiling up at you like you were the only thing in the world. "hm?" she hums up at you. awaiting your response.

"are you from tennessee? cause you're a ten" you say before laughing loudly. salma almost facepalms before getting out of her seat, "i'm too sober to be dealing with this today." she walks off, probably to the bar. claudia follows right behind her. aitana pauses for a moment, processing your joke, before laughing right alongside you. she couldn't help it; your jokes sounded ten times funnier when she has alcohol in her system.

the only one entertained at the table beside you and aitana was ona who has way too much alcohol in her system at this point to care about the cringe level of your joke. she laughs along with you two. keira sits beside the brunette spainard and just roll her eyes at ona's reaction.

aitana eventually stops laughing as she leans up to give you a kiss. at first it was short but soon leads to much longer kiss. a kiss full of tongue and the fruity taste of aitana's drink. when you pull away for much needed air, ona and keira are gone. now you two really are the only ones at the table.

aleast it wasn't your joke this time (or aleast not your joke entirely).

it was later on in the night when you finally got some more alcohol in your system. you had took a few sips of aitana's drink and took a few shots after alexia dared you, so now you and your girlfriend are both way too tipsy. with the spainish player being way more drunk than you.

most of the team was going to back to the hotel now. they start to leave one by one until it was just aitana and you. you two stand outside of the restaurant, watching people walk by. the street wasn't as busy as it was earlier, but still people are lingering around.

after a few moments you wrap your arm around aitana's waist and pull her close. starting to walk towards the hotel as she clings to your side. a drunk aitana is a sleepy, clingy aitana which was very cute in your book. "mm, mi vida.." you can't even contain your laughter as you think of another stupid joke. your girlfriend who was too drunk to process or even care about why you're laughing. she just laughs alongside you.

"are you a chili? because you make my face hot" you smirk down at her. she looks up at you, smiling, "bebe!"

she starts to laugh again. a giggly drunk aitana is not one who pays attention as her shoe collides with the ground in a bad way leading her to fall right on the ground. she laughs even harder as she sits up. you lean down to help her up but end up falling down right next to her. now you're both just laughing over basically nothing.

you two help eachother up after a few minutes. both of y'all legs feel a little weaker than before, but it's okay. you have eachother to lean on to.

#aitana bonmati #aitana bonmati x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #espwnt

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futbol16 · 1 year ago

Text

Tell Them Your Truth • Alexia Putellas & Claudia Pina

Request: Love your writing! Could you maybe write another part to Soccer Moms? I know the Barca team has mentioned that Claudia gets sick a lot, so maybe something with Reader and Alexia having to care for her and she doesn't want to be a burden or them finding out she's not feeling well during practice but she tries to continue anyways. Also, if you want to, could you maybe add Aitana as a sister, I feel like she'd fit in well (but if you don't want to, you don't have to). Also, sorry this is so long!

Word count: 3,9k (starting to realize that I enjoy these just as much as you do:)

Claudia lifts a spare shirt to her mouth as she tries to quietly clear her throat. Her eyes are alert as she peeks over the material, looking around as subtly as possible to see if anyone had noticed her. When no one bats an eye at her actions, she lowers the shirt from her mouth and with the same movement she shoves it back into her backpack.

She leans back in her cubby as she listens to the girls goof around before practice, but for once she doesn’t join them. Far too out of it to even think about such things.

This has been going on for a couple of days now, her state only worsening to the point that she now felt tired even before starting warm ups.

“You coming, Pina?” her head shoots up at the sound of her name and she shoots Patri a questioning look. It’s only when she receives an equally confused look does she glance around the changing room, now noticing that most of the girls have headed out to the pitch.

“Uh yeah yeah” she nods, slowly coming to her senses. Patri eyes her with curiosity but the short girl dismisses her concern with a wave of her hand, opting to just follow behind her friend.

Claudia clears her throat again as her and Patri walk out. The sun seems too bright as it hits her right in the eye and she almost groans aloud, wanting nothing more than to go back home and curl up under her blanket.

Patri turns at the noise but finds Pina looking down at her boots and she shrugs at her friend’s behavior. Maybe she just wasn’t having the best of days.

With that thought Patri throws an arm around Claudia’s shoulders who’s taken aback by the sudden movement and she suddenly feels dizzy, not that she’d tell anyone.

“Partners like usual?” she merely nods at the question, too busy with trying to come back to life.

Even though her legs feel like bricks and she’s craving something hot to soothe her sore throat, the forward forces herself to act like she’s having the best time at practice.

She almost lets a tear slip in relief when the end of training is called. She lets herself sit on the grass and breathe a heavy breath through her congested nose. The brunette lifts her gaze back onto her teammates, but when she notices you looking her way she instantly turns her attention elsewhere.

Just as you start to walk towards her the girl quickly jumps up to her feet and clings onto Aitana’s arm who had been walking by. A muddled expression flashes across your face but you turn back to Alexia as she gives your hand a squeeze.

Aitana however, looks at Claudia in a mix of surprise and bewilderment.

“Are you okay?” she timidly asks, not sure why her friend has been so quick to stick to her side. Claudia rapidly nods her head at the question, guiding Aitana towards the locker room. The midfielder takes notice of the slight redness of her eyes but decides against commenting on it. The two continue their way towards their stuff as they exchange a few words but Aitana quickly gets the impression that her friend is a bit too tired to continue any means of communication.

By the time you and Alexia enter the changing room, having had to stay back for some coach-to-captains talk with Jonatan, most of your teammates have already left.

Only a few have hung back to bid their goodbyes and as you hug Mapi one last time, you notice another person still sitting by their locker. You motion to her when your girlfriend’s eyes connect with yours and Alexia approaches her.

“Pinita?” she calls her name out softly as she crouches in front of the girl and Claudia hums at her in question, resting her head against the wood.

“Is everything okay bebé?” the question makes her sit up straighter as if she just realized something and Claudia rubs her eyes as she slings the strap of her backpack over her shoulder.

“Sí, all good. I just didn’t sleep well last night so I’m a little tired.” she makes up the excuse on the spot and before either of you can open your mouths to interject, she presses a quick kiss to both of yours and Alexia’s cheek and she bolts out the door.

The two of you stare at the now closed door, wondering what had gotten into the young forward. Slowly turning to the brunette by your side you raise your eyebrows.

“That wasn’t weird at all.” your comment earns you a soft chuckle from Alexia.

“She’s just tired.” she wraps an arm around your waist as she pulls you into her body. “Speaking of tired, you wanna go home and cuddle up on the couch with Nala?” her voice is sweet and there’s a twinkle in her eyes as she gazes into yours that makes it impossible for you to not pull her down for a kiss.

“Sí mi amor, siempre.”

Meanwhile you and Alexia gather the last of your things in the changing room, Aitana is just about to get in her car when she hears someone sneeze. She stops halfway through opening the car door and she glances around her with her eyebrows furrowed. She had thought she was the only one here. Her eyes zero in on the ponytail sticking out above a car near her and she sneaks closer.

“Don’t tell me you’re sick again!” her voice startles Pina who lets out a loud shriek in return before she’s cut off by another sneeze. She taps at her pockets in search of something but Aitana hands her a tissue without a word.

“Thanks.” the forward sniffles and then blows her nose out, cutting off Aitana who was about to speak again. Aitana watches on as her friend fills the tissue, a repelled look on her face.

“Yeah, get it all out I suppose” she mutters, stuffing another tissue into Claudia’s pocket as she finally finishes.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Are you sick again?” Her silence speaks volumes and the ‘are you kidding me’ look on Aitana’s face isn’t helping her feel better.

“I swear it’s not my fault-”

“Claudia you were sick like two weeks ago too!” she throws her arms up in frustration, frustration which roots from her worry for the brunette.

“Okay but…” Aitana raises an eyebrow, waiting for whatever excuse the young player had for now.

“Nevermind, I don’t have anything.” Claudia shrugs nonchalantly before sniffing again. With the mother-like pose that Aitana is supporting with her hands on her hips and a disapproving look in her eyes, Pina knows what’s coming next. This time Aitana is cut off by her voice rather than her blowing her nose out.

“Please please don’t tell mi mamás, I don’t want to miss training and I don’t want to annoy them with this again. Pleasee!” her please catch Aitana off guard whose expression softens when Claudia reveals how she feels.

“You think you’d annoy Y/N/N and Ale?” her disbelieving tone makes Claudia huff out a breath through her nose.

“I don’t want to worry them. They smothered me with care last time and constantly came over to bring me soup and tuck me into bed and check my fever and-” she lets out a sigh. “You get it”

“So why not just tell them you don’t want that?” Aitana is utterly confused as to why the forward thought this was such a complicated situation.

“But I do want it!” Claudia all but whines, arms crossing over her chest in a defensive manner. Clearly her sickness had gotten her in a mood.

“Okay, I don’t get it”

“If they know about this then they’ll worry about me-”

“Is that not a good thing?” Pina gives Aitana a look for being cut off.

“No, because it means they will spend their time worrying about me instead of being at training and getting ready for our next game. I don’t want them to pause their lives to take care of me” she finally admits and this time Aitana pulls her into a comforting hug, now understanding why this was such a difficult and overwhelming situation for Claudia.

“Wait actually, you’ll get me sick too” she pulls away from her and Aitana smiles when Claudia snorts at her antics.

“But I understand now and I won’t tell them, even though they’re our captains and you probably should” she gives Pina one last look, waiting for her to change her mind but the brunette doesn’t budge. “Well, if that’s what you really want” she shrugs as she gives in to Claudia who thanks her profusely.

“Butttt, get some sleep today and take some coughing meds”

“Sí claro. Gracias Tana!” Pina shouts after her friend who waves her off as she finally gets in her car.

The next day at training begins similarly for the young forward and she tiredly trudges into the locker room before letting her bag fall onto the bench with a loud thump. This time, many of the girls eye her with curiosity but Pina pays them no mind, the throbbing in her head far too painful to care.

She’s just about finished getting ready and is tying her boots when someone sits next to her and leans down to her level with their hand situated on her back.

“If you don’t want the whole team to know before you could tell Ale and Y/N/N, then stop sniffling and blow your nose out.” Aitana whispers to her and she pushes a tissue into her hand.

Claudia glances up alarmed but when she notices that the two of you aren’t here yet, she calms herself down and excuses herself to the bathroom to blow her nose out. That way no one would hear just how congested she is and no one would tell on her.

When she re-enters the room she finds that the team’s captains have finally arrived, or more so just made their presences known because you’re both already dressed in your training kits and comfortably talking to Mapi and Ingrid.

Claudia watches the two of you from her seat across you and her eyes wander over your form before she spots your hand on Alexia’s thigh. She watches as you rub soothing circles into the skin of your girlfriend’s thigh and how in return, the midfielder scoots closer to you and leans her head on your shoulder.

She lets out a quiet sigh without knowing, wishing that she would also be receiving such comforting embraces, especially now that she feels under the weather.

For a second she genuinely considers walking over and plopping herself in between you and Alexia, but then she remembers that she’s trying to keep a secret from you.

Alexia feels the young girl staring and she squeezes the hand that’s on her thigh to gain your attention.

“Pinita is staring at us” she whispers to you so as to not alert anyone else. “And I’m not sure if I’m seeing right, but are her eyes red to you too?” upon hearing her concerned voice you instantly turn towards the young brunette and your eyes scan over her clearly tired expression. Pina’s eyes connect with yours and she lowers her head to turn back to tying her boots, only to find that they’re already tied.

“Maybe she had another bad night?” it’s a valid suggestion from your part since it is the excuse Claudia had made yesterday. Even though Alexia can hear the uncertainty in your voice and she’s just as unsure, she nods at your words.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Minutes later when the team finally start their way towards the pitch, Claudia is quick to run after Aitana and Patri before Alexia can greet her with a hug.

The bewilderment in her eyes as she joins you again, makes you knit your brows together.

“Is it just me or is she avoiding us?” Alexia voices her thoughts as she turns to you, a sad smile resting on her face.

“Thought I was imagining things.” you confirm with the same expression and you press a small kiss to her cheek hoping to calm her racing thoughts.

With the way Claudia has been behaving, Alexia keeps a close eye on the brunette the whole time during warm ups, so much so that you have to nudge her out of her staring contest with the back of Pina’s head.

The team is almost halfway through practice, doing running drills when you hear a small sneeze behind you. Beyond being confused at the sound you abruptly turn around only to find Patri, Aitana, and Pina all staring at you with wide eyes.

“Who was that?”

“Who was what?” Patri tries to outsmart you, having picked up on Pina’s state.

“The sneeze. Who sneezed?” you narrow your eyes at one of them in particular and Claudia lowers her slightly bloodshot eyes. She stays silent knowing that if she were to open her mouth you would hear her nasally voice.

“Me! Me, it was me.” Aitana’s words are accompanied by nods and she wipes at her nose for good measure, utilizing all of her acting skills in front of you.

You're not very convinced but you ignore your worry for the moment, choosing to instead focus on the drill when it is your turn. You don’t hear the breath of relief behind you, or Pina thanking Aitana for covering for her and you certainly don’t see the knowing look Patri gives her best friend.

Pina steers clear of you after that, and Alexia, and basically everyone in order to keep up her act.

When Jonatan calls for a scrimmage she knows practice is almost over and she relaxes a bit at the thought of not having to pretend for much longer.

She ends up on your team and while normally she would be hanging off your neck in happiness, she only trudges over to your side in silence.

Alexia watches from the other side of the pitch and by now she is beyond concerned for Claudia.

The scrimmage is going well with your team two goals ahead of Alexia’s, you make sure to rub it in her face, only playfully of course. And truly all is good when Pina sends another cross your way and you control the ball as you try to outsmart Cata.

Claudia’s feet come to a stop as she rapidly breathes in only to then hunch over and break out in a coughing fit. Her eyes prick with tears as her sore throat is abused by the loud coughs that rake through her body and she is barely able to get in a breath before she’s coughing again.

Aitana’s eyes are instantly on the forward and she quickly walks over to stand in front of her friend, still trying to cover for her.

The noise however catches everyone’s attention, except yours because you’re too busy scoring a goal and hearing your own heavy breathing to hear Pina way behind you.

Alexia’s mom mode is immediately activated and she runs over to Claudia without a second thought. She places a comforting hand on her back and pats her gently to help clear Pina’s throat. When Pina is finished, she inhales a sharp deep breath and straightens up, coming face to face with her captain.

“Sit down Claudia” Alexia orders firmly, but the worry shines through her voice. Pina follows her instructions though and when a bottle is pushed into her hands she eagerly chugs it down.

By now you have also turned around and when you see half the team standing near something, you furrow your brows. Deciding it’s best to see what was up you abandon celebrating your goal and instead run back to where you can see Alexia towering over the others.

“What happened?” you ask breathlessly, eyes searching your girlfriend’s for answers. She gestures to Claudia on the ground and you drop down to your knees next to the girl.

Your eyes rake over her form, searching for any injuries but when you don’t find any you glance back up at Alexia.

“She’s sick and has a coughing fit. And by the sounds of it she didn’t get sick last night.” Alexia places a gentle hand on Pina’s head and she carefully sweeps the baby hairs out of the girl’s eyes.

Your expression morphs into worry, confusion, and then a slightly hurt look as you turn to Claudia.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” you don’t receive a verbal answer, only a guilty look and you sigh, instead raising the bottle back to her mouth and urging her to drink more. With one last look at the girl you stand back up, giving Alexia’s shoulder a squeeze and then you stand by to explain the situation to Jonatan.

He agrees to call the end of practice a few minutes early and tells the rest of the girls to stretch and cool down, allowing the three of you to head inside to check out Pina.

You remain silent on the walk to the changing room and Pina glances up at you every now and then but she stays firmly tucked into Alexia’s side, allowing herself to soak up the affection she’s been missing out on.

“Go ahead and get changed, I’ll get the stuff from the medics.” you inform Alexia and she nods at you, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before letting you go. She guides the young forward into the changing room and sits her down in her cubby, draping one of your hoodies over the brunette.

“Pinita” Alexia sits next to her with a small sigh, pulling her to lean into her.

“When did all of this happen? You were sick just the other week”

“I know, I know. I left the air conditioning running after I got home from training and…I guess sitting under it while still hot and sweaty- it wasn’t the best idea.” she admits regretfully and her captain chuckles along.

“Well, at least you know now.” just as Claudia thinks she’s off the hook Alexia continues.

“But it wasn’t smart of you to continue training while you were clearly sick. This could’ve ended way worse Pina, you could’ve caused yourself serious stuff” she seemingly can’t find the right words, her mind once again consumed with fret.

The forward nods into her shoulder, wearing a guilty expression. Alexia lifts a hand to her forehead and Claudia jerks back at the coldness of it.

“You even have a fever, Pina!” she shrinks back at the tone of her voice.

“Why didn’t you tell us, or someone?” the midfielder questions further.

“I told Aitana, well technically she found out. But I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Pinita bebé, we’re always going to worry about you, no matter what.” Alexia tells her softly, rubbing the girl's shoulder.

“Sí, but I knew you would abandon everything else to take care of me. You would’ve missed training then and then maybe even a game.” she explains her reasoning and Alexia sighs.

“I would’ve rather missed a game than have you rip your lungs open in a coughing fit.” your voice rings out and it startles Claudia who hasn’t been paying attention to the door.

Your hands are full with what she could only assume were coughing syrups and other tablets and medicine for her. Suddenly she feels even worse for lying - or well keeping this from the two of you.

“It wasn’t that serious-” she stops talking as you dump everything next to her and you move to take her temperature.

“It could’ve been.” you ignore the look you receive from your girlfriend but you do get the hint and with a deep breath in, you allow your softness to take over you.

“Querida, this isn’t something to joke about. You should’ve told Ale and I about how you were feeling, amor. We could’ve stopped it from getting worse.” you stroke her cheek as you look at the number on the machine, shaking your head when you see just how high her temperature is. Claudia melts into your touch and sinks even further into your girlfriend’s hold.

“I didn’t want to be a burden.” she mumbles out as her eyes gloss over. Your movements halt at the hearing of her statement and you glance up at Alexia almost as if waiting for confirmation that you’ve really heard what you heard.

The midfielder tightens her hold on Pina.

“You’re far from being a burden Pinita, so far from it.” she mutters into Claudia’s hair. You crouch down in front of her and take her hands into your own, your thumbs running over her knuckles in a soothing manner.

“Worrying about you, taking care of you isn’t a chore, mi vida. We do it because we love you. Don’t ever think of it differently.” you tell her sincerely, your voice soft and comforting. Claudia nods at the two of you and she lets a tear fall before she physically lets herself fall into your arms, pulling Alexia with her.

The three of you stay in a tight embrace kneeling slightly uncomfortably on the floor of the locker room, but you and Alexia wouldn’t have it any other way if it meant Claudia felt safe.

“Thank you” she whispers as her grip on your shirts loosen. Alexia smiles at her and kisses her head in a motherly manner while you slightly pull back from the two.

“Okay, enough of this now, I can’t go another second knowing you’re sick and not do anything about it.” the laughs you receive instantly lightens the atmosphere and you offer a hand to each of your girls and pull them up to their feet.

“Drink some of this and then we can go home and cuddle up” you push the coughing syrup into Pina’s hand who pulls a face at it but quickly nods at your words, her mind already wandering to what movie the three of you could watch.

“I’ll make soup for you, bebé.” Alexia states and you smile at your girlfriend's enthusiasm to take care of your sick teammate.

Your arms wrap themselves around her as Claudia gathers her things and you press a lingering kiss to the underside of her jaw. Alexia’s eyes shine with adoration as she gazes down at you and just as she’s about to kiss you, you’re interrupted by Pina clearing her throat.

She gives the two of you a sheepish look.

“Can Aitana join us?” she fiddles with the strap of her backpack and your heart melts at her cuteness.

“Sure, go get her.” Alexia smiles at Pina without moving from your embrace and you watch as the forward skips out of the changing room.

Later that evening, the three of you are all mushed together on the couch of the living room, Aitana and Patri squished onto the sofa chair as they share a bowl of popcorn, eyes intently watching the movie playing in front of you all.

As Claudia glances around, she relishes in the comfort and warmth that she feels, her throat feels a lot better thanks to the amount of syrup you had forced her to take, plus Alexia’s soup. Just before her eyes slip closed, she thinks that perhaps next time it wouldn’t be a bad idea to tell the two of you about her being sick, especially if it resulted in such movie nights.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #futbol16 #alexia putellas x reader #claudia pina x reader

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ladykailitha · 5 months ago

Text

Sweet Home Indiana Part 9

Only one more chapter to go and that's the happily ever after.

Lot of talking in this chapter. Steve and Eddie, Eddie and Chrissy, Steve and Chrissy, back to Eddie and Steve. But we get to the most brilliant idea Eddie has had since choosing to marry Steve.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

****

The drive back to the hotel wasn’t a long one, but it still felt like it had passed by in a single instant.

When he pulled into the parking lot he was surprised to see Steve leaning against one of the pillars to the covered valet parking, smoking a cigarette. His feet were crossed at the ankle and his free hand was holding tightly to the arm that held his cigarette. His head was down, but Eddie could his hair wasn’t styled and his clothes were rumpled.

He got out his rental in a hurry and tried not to run up to Steve so it was this weird loping walk/jog thing.

“Baby?” Eddie called, leaning his head down to try and look him in the eyes.

“Eddie?”

His already broken heart shattered into dust when Steve raised his head. His eyes were red and swollen, his face blotchy with tears, and his expression was shuttered.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he cooed, cupping Steve’s cheek. “What are you doing here?” If Eddie was the cause of another shop closing, he was going to start crying, right there in the parking lot, dignity be damned. “What about the bakery?”

“Robin is taking care of it,” he murmured, “she called in Claudia to help out, the shop’s fine.”

Eddie heart sank further. “But you aren’t. Why don’t we go up to my room and we’ll talk about it, okay?” When Steve didn’t say anything, Eddie backtracked. “Or we can go somewhere else if you prefer.”

Steve shook his head. “No, no. You’re hotel room is fine.”

Eddie wrapped his arms around him and led him to his room. He sat Steve down on the one armchair in the room and poured a glass of water. He got out two capsules of ibuprofen and handed both to Steve.

“Drink up, Stevie,” he gently implored. “Don’t want you getting a migraine because you’re dehydrated.”

Steve nodded and did as he was told. Once he was done, he handed the cup back to Eddie who set it on the table.

“I was making snickerdoodles and started crying and couldn’t stop,” Steve murmured. “I know I’ve been awful to you all week and I’m starting to feel like that stupid Einstein quote or whatever about being crazy.”

Eddie chuckled and ran his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Crazy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?”

Steve nodded and then leaned into Eddie’s touch. “I’ve missed you so much, Eds.”

Eddie knelt in front of him and kissed his forehead. Steve let out a shuddering breath as the sobs threatened to choke him.

“What did you do to me that I didn’t deserve, Stevie?” Eddie whispered. “I left you, kept running when I could have come home, demanded a divorce, came to town and shook up your life and was just going to blow out of it again, never to be seen again? After all that, what did you do to me that wasn’t in self-defense?”

Steve let out another shuddering breath. “Kevin is just a pool buddy. We aren’t dating. I haven’t dated since before you. I couldn’t. You’re everything to me and I don’t know what I did to make you hate me.”

Eddie frowned at the name before he realized it was the guy he saw flirting with Steve his first night in town.

“I don’t hate you, baby,” he murmured. “I never hated you. I was so scared that I would be stuck in this hick town my whole life. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to meet new people, but I never stopped loving you.”

“But Chrissy?” Steve asked, tears slipping down his cheeks. Eddie right there with him with his own tears.

“She needs a visa to stay in America,” Eddie said his voice shaking with each word he forced past his lips, “and if we don’t get married by a certain date, they’ll ship her off back to Barbados. She’s my Robin, Stevie. She’s my Robin.”

Steve’s eyes went wide as he gasped. There wasn’t anything in the world that he wouldn’t do for Robin, even a lavender marriage if that’s what it would take to keep her safe.

“Oh.”

Steve threw himself at Eddie and pulled him in for a big hug. “Oh, sunshine,” he breathed. “That’s horrible. Of course you need to marry her, to keep her safe. I’m sorry you’ve been carrying this around like a millstone around your neck.”

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” Eddie wailed. “I am so sorry.”

They slunk to the floor in a crumpled heap as they cried together.

Later they would get on the bed and just hold each other. But for now, they cried in each other’s arms and held on for dear life.

****

Eddie woke up for the first time in years feeling well rested and comfortable. His phone was also blasting “Hot Blooded Woman” as loud as possible.

He rolled over to grab his phone but was met with a warm body and face full of honey colored hair.

Eddie smiled and stretched over Steve to grab his phone.

“‘Ello?” he muttered, trying to keep his voice down.

“Eddie!” Chrissy shrieked. “I’ve been calling for the last ten minutes! Why didn’t you pick up?”

Eddie pulled his phone from his ear and stuck a finger in it to clear it out. “Chrissy, not so loud.”

“Well, I’m sorry if I’m freaking out that you weren’t answering your phone, Edward,” she huffed.

Eddie slid out of the bed and grabbed the room key on his way out of the hotel room. “I was sleeping, Christine. I’ve had a very emotionally wrought day and was exhausted.”

There was silence on the line for a moment or two before he got a very chastised, “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Ed,” she murmured. “I was having my own freak out and completely forgot about yours. That was fucked up, I’m really, really sorry.”

Eddie sighed and leaned against the door. “It is what it is. Why were you calling?”

“Um...” she hedged. “It doesn’t sound so dire in weight of your shit, so...”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Now you’ve got to tell me.”

“So, um...” she hedged a little more, “I called the bakery to see if I could talk to Steve and see if we could work out custody of you or whatever, but he was busy.”

“Snickerdoodles.”

“Yes!” Chrissy hissed. “Wait! How did you know?”

“Steve came to the hotel to see me,” Eddie explained, “and told me he had been making snickerdoodles when it just came over him that he just had to see me.”

“Cute,” she said and Eddie could see her tilt her head to the side in his mind, something she’d picked up from him. “Anyway! I’ll talk more about that in a minute. I need to freak out.”

Eddie shook his head fondly. “Continue.”

“So this really cute sounding girl picked up and wouldn’t let me talk to him because apparently their giant stand mixer eats phones!” Chrissy explained.

“Let me guess, you’re freaking out about the cute sounding girl?” he murmured.

“Is–is she Steve’s girlfriend?” she asked shyly.

Eddie burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that Steve opened the door and looked down at him. “You okay there, Eds?”

He nodded, pursing his lips together. “Would please explain to Chrissy that Robin isn’t your girlfriend, please? Please?”

Steve rolled his eyes but took the phone from Eddie’s grasp.

“Hi, Chrissy?” he greeted.

“You must be Steve!” she chirped happily. “Nice to meet you at long last!”

“Likewise,” he said fondly. “Robin Buckley is my partner in a lot of things, but as a staunch lesbian, she isn’t anything but my platonic soulmate.”

He pulled the phone from his ear as she shrieked. Eddie looked up at him with the biggest grin and made grabby hands for his phone. Steve handed it back.

“Oh my god!” Chrissy cried. “If I wasn’t set to marry you, I propose in a heart beat!”

“I never took you for a U-haul lesbian,” he teased her.

Suddenly everyone stopped stock still.

“Oh shit,” Eddie said scrambling to his feet. “That’s it!”

“I’m calling Robin!” Steve cried, diving back into the hotel room.

“Get on a plane, darlin’,” Eddie told Chrissy. “I think we just solved all our problems.”

“Eddie...” Chrissy breathed. “Do you think this will work? What if she says no?”

“She won’t,” he reassured her. “And even if she doesn’t agree today, she will once she meets you face to face.”

“This is insane, Ed,” she muttered. “I don’t know.”

“Babe,” Eddie breathed. “Jeff is already out here for his parents’ wedding anniversary. Brian lives in Indy, and I bet I could convince Gare to be on a flight faster than you can book your own flight. You’ve already told the immigration lady that you were coming down here to the wedding anyway.”

She sighed and took a deep breath. “Okay, but now I’m freaking out for a different reason.”

Eddie laughed. “Because now you’ve got meet the pretty girl on the phone?”

“And is she?” Chrissy asked. “Is she pretty?”

Eddie went searching through his phone for the pictures he took during his week here and found a good one of Robin and Steve at the bar. He sent it to her.

“Stevie is hottie on the right,” he told her, “and Robin is cutie on the left.”

There was silence on the line for a few moments before Chrissy breathed. “Right, two things. One, I think you’re an even bigger asshole for leaving that behind, by the way.”

Eddie bobbed his head side to side. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“And two holy fuck,” she hissed. “I would go down on my knees begging her to marry me even if my immigration status wasn’t the fucking sword of Damocles hanging over my head, right now.”

“Someone packing her bags yet?” he teased her.

“Look, babe,” Chrissy said seriously. “I was already packing my bags to meet your scaly white ass out there in Bumfuck, Indiana, it’s just going to be a more enjoyable experience is all.”

“See you soon, Chris.”

“I’ll message you my flight details as soon as I get them.”

“Right-o,” he said and hung up.

The door to the hotel room opened up again and Steve leaned against the doorframe.

“Robin thinks it’s a great idea,” he said softly. “One of her schools was already out there in Washington, so this makes the choice easier. Plus, this means she won’t be alone in the city like she thought she would be.”

Eddie got to his feet and put his arms around Steve’s waist. “This only clears up seventy percent of the problem.”

Steve frowned and tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Eddie cupped his jaw tenderly. “I still have a life out in Seattle. I want to be here with you, but there is so much to do before that could happen.”

Steve draped his arms around Eddie’s neck loosely. “I know that, Eds. I wasn’t expecting a miracle cure. So the only thing I need to hear from you is that no matter how far apart we are, that you’ll still love me.”

Eddie pulled him in for a hug and they stood there, half in the hotel room and half in the hall, just taking comfort in each other.

“I promise you this, Stevie,” he whispered in his ear, “that I will move heaven and earth to find my back to you. Something I should have done a long time ago.”

Steve shook his head. “No, I think we both needed to grow up before we could properly be together.”

Eddie let out a contented sigh. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Steve pulled him back inside the hotel room and Eddie closed the door behind him.

****

Part 10

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @ravenfrog @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @mac-attack19

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95

7- @blackpanzy @amazing-spiderkeys @oldpinghai @raisedbylibrarians @kultiras

8- @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steddie-as-they-go @captain--low @micheledawn1975 @thespaceantwhowrites

9- @blondie1006 @stripey82 @w1ll0wtr33 @mcenziehughes

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rom com au

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ridingtorohan · 9 months ago

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𓇻 ft. ezio auditore x civilian gn reader

𓇻 summary. There's just you, Ezio, and a slow, sleepy morning on a rooftop.

𓇻 content. platonic or pre-relationship. pre-Brotherhood.

𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks!

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎read on ao3! - masterlist - join the taglist!

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ───※ ��❆· ※───

Soft strands of sunlight crests over the city walls, dusting over the roof slates in a golden sheen. It’s beautiful and tranquil, the starlight fading overhead into hues of gentle light. Early dawn has you feeling cold, a little uncomfortable under the brisk air. Monteriggioni feels quiet beneath the sway of your feet, the small city silent with sleep. Ezio barely breathes - and when he does, it’s relaxed, the motion slow. He’s, somehow, not quite what you imagined and yet everything all at once. Quiet. For all the charismatic clamor you see him with, he watches over the city with a sense of calm that Claudia has never spoken of.

Aristocratic nose, fine cheekbones and firm jawline, Ezio was without a doubt a cut of the finest cloth. Boisterous. Loud. Everything you’ve heard spoken about him - and even seen him act. This is a tender side you didn’t know existed, hidden beneath swaths of fine armour and silky fabric. Looking at him as you do now, his presence almost muted beside you on the rooftop, he seems more man than myth. Gentler, almost, even with the garment of metal strapped to his wrists.

Despite all the armour he typically wears, the imposing and broad figure he cuts, he’s everything but. You’ve seen him out and about, moving along the rooftops and city walls, scrounging for feathers - you still didn’t quite understand that— and tending to mundane jobs. He’s even swept out an arm to guide children back to their feet after a tumble to the street. Which happens a fair bit, even to a young child from your extended family.

Thing is, while it happens a fair amount - Ezio is there to stop it. Always visiting, moving between houses and tending to the people with a spirit and jubilance that you haven’t even seen the Lord cherish the town with. He loves it like his own, a home far from his birthright.

You don’t know much about Ezio’s past, only gleaned some of it from gossip and from Claudia. Even that isn’t enough. Enough would be to hear it from his own lips, to have the man himself explain. But, the strange thing is, despite all the good tidings he gives to the town, when he’s alone with you like this, he grows somber. A million miles away, lost in a world you can’t comprehend.

Other days it’s good. He tends to you like every other townsperson in Monteriggioni, making sure you have everything you need. You’re not even sure how spending time with Ezio like this even happened - what you did to make him choose you. There are many ladies who express an interest in him, many soldiers who want privy into his skills. But he chooses you, takes you for strolls and stops first thing at your market stall when new produce is brought in.

Today is not one of those days.

“I am sorry,” he says then, voice hard in the growing daylight. Not because he’s harsh - never is— but because that’s just how his words sound. “My mind is … quite occupied today.”

“It’s okay,” you breathe out, because it is. It’s okay. You don’t question where his mind goes.

There’s a long moment of silence before Ezio quietly elaborates, “It is close to my Christening day.”

“Oh-” You pause and consider his tone. “I’m sorry.”

His expression twitches then, mirth dancing in his eyes, dark eyebrows knitting together. A small smile plays across his handsome face, fingers spreading across his thigh. “Thank you.” He laughs, an unused sound that rests deep in his throat. “Ah, I’m sure you’ve already heard of Claudia arranging a party, no?” Your pinched expression gives you away and his laugh deepens, eyes turning away.

“She wanted it to be a secret-” You stop yourself there by instinct. But Ezio doesn’t interrupt, he never has. He’s attentive that way, always listening to what you have to say, even if it’s about the soil or the worms in your garden. “You weren’t supposed to know about it.” “She always tries to make it a surprise,” Ezio responds, eyes tender as he looks at you.

“And yet you know of it anyway.” There’s a twitch of his scarred mouth when you speak.

“Mm.” He gives a slow nod of his head, leaning back, brown hair moving from his shoulder to spill over his back instead. Ezio closes his eyes, the hazy sunlight moving across his face as it climbs into the sky. “Has anyone invited you?”

“The whole town is going.”

“Yes, I imagine.” Ezio laughs slightly then. “I’m inviting you as my guest.” It feels like it should be a profound statement - something awe inspiring or an utterance to make you gasp. It doesn’t. Instead, all you feel is a low seeping warmth that touches the tip of your toes. You look down, swaying you feet over the edge of the roof. Ezio isn’t saying it to be polite - there’s something about the way he speaks and acts with you that makes you feel like he’s genuine.

“Thank you,” you say after a moment. “That’d be great.”

Ezio says nothing to that, though you can feel his eyes turn from you back towards the city at your feet. An emotional eclipse washes over you and you’re left feeling cold. Every moment with Ezio is like this - inviting, like summer days and fireflies. Like he sees who you are and accepts it.

There’s nothing for a long moment, just you and Ezio and the slow march of time. Dew glistens on the lower tiles, the rough texture cold beneath your palms. “Thank you for going,” he says - and the way he says it makes it feel more profound than it originally sounds. Like it matters to him, like your presence is something he basks in.

You look at him, at his battle worn features, weary lines smoothing into something almost peaceful. He needs moments like this, you realize. Needs it like you do - the companionship, the ease from everyday life. The slow, quiet mornings, the yawning pull of life. An insurmountable, insignificant second of life - every second that amounts to something more. Because he exists, you exist, and this moment exists.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” you promise, meaning every word of it. You enjoy these mornings with him just as much as he does.

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oh-stars · 9 months ago

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Eddie's Quest

Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 916 words | CW: implied bad Harrington parents, rec drug use | Rating: T

There isn’t much from Steve’s childhood that Eddie knows about and what he does know, hasn’t always been good. Steve just doesn’t share a lot in general though. He’s content in living in the present, which isn’t something Eddie really knows how to do. So when Steve does share something positive, something that he holds dear from his childhood, Eddie latches on.

Their anniversary is coming up, only a few weeks away, and Steve mentioned he misses the way a babysitter made this specific kind of cake. Black something. Steve couldn’t remember the name of it so now Eddie’s on a mission to try and figure it out.

Eddie finds himself at Claudia Henderson’s doorstep on a Tuesday morning with flowers in his hand. When she opens the door, Eddie doesn’t even let her say hello before he’s giving them to her with a, “I need your help finding this really obscure recipe to make Steve happy and I have a feeling it’s going to be a nightmare because I can’t bake for shit. Will you please help?”

Claudia coos at him. “Oh you’re the sweetest, Eddie! Of course, I’ll help! Come in, come in.”

They end up pouring over all her cookbooks, and then Claudia starts a phone tree with Karen, Sue, and Joyce for their recipes. All five of them converge at the library, their personal cookbooks in hand, to take over one of the study rooms the library offers. “If we don’t have it,” Claudia told him as they settled in, “then the library will.”

Eddie can’t even argue as they get to work.

“Did he say what it tasted like?” Karen asks as she starts flipping through a book. Joyce had the brilliant idea of marking where all the dessert sections started in each book, so each woman was currently flipping away while Eddie tried to remember every detail Steve had mentioned.

“He mentioned cherries,” Eddie groans, scrubbing at his face. “And it’s a cake.”

“Could be topped with cherries,” Sue hums as she sorts through her books.

“Or a cherry filling,” Claudia points out.

“Steve has a sweet tooth,” Joyce adds after a while. “He likes rich flavors, so it’s probably on the sweeter side than a refreshing dessert.”

Eddie shrugs. “I guess?”

“You know,” Karen says as she taps her fingers against her book. “I think I remember a few of Steve’s nannies over the years. They were always at the school for pick up. Do you know which one has the recipe?”

“Does she still live here?” Sue asks. “It would save us some time to just ask.”

“No, no,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “He said his parents didn’t let him keep in touch and she moved away. He doesn’t know where.”

The women share a knowing, quiet look amongst them. Eddie’s not sure he’s fluent in their silent mom language, but he knows a judgy look when he sees one.

Eddie jumps up and paces the room, retracing every line of thinking that particular conversation followed. The problem is, they were high as fuck when Steve brought it up, sharing tidbits between big bites of the ice cream they’d found in their freezer.

“You would have loved her,” Steve had said with a mouthful. He was laying on Eddie, legs hanging off the arm of the couch and propped against Eddie’s side so they could share the pint. “She liked to read a lot, always had books for me.”

“What kind of books?” Eddie asked.

“Think ones.” Steve shrugged, eyes glazed over. “Fairy Tales, but the real gross stuff. So my dad wouldn’t get mad,” he added quickly.

Gross fairy tales, Eddie thinks. He knows what Steve’s talking about, the original dark shit that they used to scare children into behaving from the grim–

“German!” Eddie screeches as he slams his hands on the table. To their credit, none of the mothers jump except for Joyce. “She was German!”

Karen looks up at the ceiling, eyes narrowed in concentration. Claudia taps her fingers against her temple. Sue hums as she checks a few of the spines on the other stacks. Joyce leans back, crossing her arms as she stares off into space.

“That has to help,” Eddie tries, quieter, “right?”

“Maybe,” Karen says as she blinks back at the cookbook. She trades it for another. “And you’re sure it had cherries?”

“Oh!” Joyce jumps up, hands flailing as she grabs for a book off Claudia’s stack. “I know it!”

They all crowd around the book, heads tucked together as Joyce flies through the sections and slaps a finger against a chocolate cake. “Black Forest Cake,” she says, panting a little.

Eddie moves the book to read the description. “This is it!”

Their cheering gets them kicked out, but none of them seem to mind as they tote their cookbook stacks back to their cars. Claudia and Sue are already talking about commandeering Karen’s kitchen to bake it in a few days, since her kitchen is bigger, and they can all help – make a day of it with wine and gossip. He doesn’t care how it gets made, just that he can take it to Steve, to show him he listens and cares and loves him so much. He can’t wait to share this cake with him, to make it for him every year just because. His quest will be complete and he’ll get to live happily ever after with a very happy, well-fed prince. Best quest yet.

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #ohstars posting challenge

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trensu · 2 years ago

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I keep seeing posts about mother's day and Steve Harrington, and it's all in good fun, I don't wanna ruin anyone's fun times. But also, Steve is actually a teenage boy whose parents are never around and has sort of adopted this weird little nerd boy as his little brother. This weird little nerd boy has a mom who loves him very much and supports his interests and worries about his well-being constantly. Somehow, Steve has gotten included in this and he's got this woman fussing over him, if he's eating enough, if he's dressed warmly enough for the weather and please let her know how much he needs for gas because he takes Dustin places all the time.

And then mother's day is coming up and Dustin wants to get her the perfect present but has no idea what to get her because his mom is focused on him all the time and never really mentions anything she wants or needs so he's low-key panicking when he finally gets a hold of Steve and asks him for help. So Steve and him start going to all sorts of shops trying to find something good, something worthy of Claudia Henderson.

Steve helps him buy an extravagant bouquet because moms and flowers right? Dustin finds a bowtie collar for Mews2. They find a cat themed mother's day card. They order a whole fancy carry out meal from Enzo's. He helps Dustin bake a homemade chocolate cake.

Steve puts on the finishing touches to the dining table while Dustin coaxes Mews2 into the bowtie collar. Then it's almost time for Claudia to come home from her shift look idk what she does for a living in canon but I always imagined her as a hospital nurse and hospitals don't close for holidays or weekends so Steve checks Dustin's hair one last time because Dustin wants to look nice for his mom's nice mother's day dinner. Then Steve is grabbing his keys and saying goodbye.

"Dude, where are you going?" Dustin asks, genuinely baffled.

"Uh, home? You're all set up, and your mom's home soon," Steve responds like, duh, where else would he be going right.

"Yeah, so you should clean up! I can't be the only one looking good for Mom."

Steve blinks. "Man, your mom's not gonna want me getting in the way of her day with you."

"what are you talking about? Have you MET Mom?"

And before they could continue arguing, Claudia walks through the door. She sees the dining table laid out all nice, and her furry boy in a bowtie, her little boy with his hair done, and her other bigger boy looking kind of caught out and blushing.

"oh, my boys!" She says. "Did you do all of this for me?"

"Dustin actually--" Steve tries to give Dustin, her actual kid, the credit because he's not about to steal his little bud's thunder but Claudia scoops them both into her arms and peppers them with slightly damp kisses.

"you two didn't have to!" She says. "Oh, let me go get changed from these scrubs. You both sit down, I'll be just a minute. I'm so lucky to have the two sweetest boys in the world." Mews2 takes that moment to meow loudly. "sorry, THREE boys, I didn't forget you, baby."

She shuffles hurriedly to her room, leaving behind a smugly grinning Dustin and a frozen, baffled Steve.

"you heard her," Dustin says, pushing Steve towards an open chair. "We can't disappoint her on mother's day!"

And that's how Steve ended up spending mother's day in a warm home with a loving family, instead of spending the evening alone trying to get a call through to Mrs Harrington with little success.

#steve harrington #dustin henderson #claudia henderson #stranger things #steve is an honorary henderson #trensu tells stories

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lady-phasma · 5 months ago

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The depth of these characters is entirely Anne Rice’s responsibility. However, I don’t know that I have ever watched an adaptation quite as compelling as this series. The show runners have changed huge elements, but kept the soul of the Chronicles. Every time I see Armand on screen I think about this passage from The Vampire Armand. Assad plays him so well, so disarmingly, and with a complexity that is remarkably true to the books.

Massive spoilers below the cut…

But I did not bring about [Claudia's] execution. She died more horribly than anyone has ever imagined, and I have not the strength now to tell the tale. Let me say only that before she was shoved out into a brick-lined air well to await the death sentence of the god Phoebus, I tried to grant her fondest wish, that she should have the body of a woman, a fit shape for the tragic dimension of her soul. Well, in my clumsy alchemy, slicing heads from bodies and stumbling to transplant one to another, I failed. Some night when I am drunk on the blood of many victims, and more accustomed than I am now to confession, I will recount it, my crude and sinister operations, conducted with a sorcerer's willfulness and a boy's blundering, and describe in grim and grotesque detail the writhing jerking catastrophe that rose from beneath my scalpel and my surgical needle and thread. Let me say here, she was herself again, hideously wounded, a botched reassemblage of the angelic child she'd been before my attempts, when she was locked out in the brutal morning to meet her death with a clear mind. The fire of Heaven destroyed the awful unhealed evidence of my Satanic surgery as it turned her to a monument in ash. No evidence remained of her last hours within the torture chamber of my makeshift laboratory. No one need ever have known what I say now. For many a year, she haunted me. I could not strike from my mind the faltering image of her girlish head and tumbling curls fixed awkwardly with gross black stitching to the failing, faltering and falling body of a female vampire whose discarded head I'd thrown into the fire. Ah, what a grand disaster was that, the child-headed monster woman unable to speak, dancing in a frenetic circle, the blood gurgling from her shuddering mouth, her eyes rolling, arms flapping like the broken bones of invisible wings. It was a truth I vowed to conceal forever from Louis de Pointe du Lac and all whoever questioned me. Better let them think that I had condemned her without trying to effect her escape, both from the vampires of the theatre and from the wretched dilemma of her small, enticing, flat-chested and silken-skinned angelic form. She was not fit for deliverance after the failure of my butchery; she was as a prisoner subjected to the cruelty of the rack who can only smile bitterly and dreamily as she is led, torn and miserable, to the final horror of the stake. She was as a hopeless patient, in the reeking antiseptic death cubicle of a modern hospital, freed at last from the hands of youthful and overzealous doctors, to give up the ghost on a white pillow alone. Enough. I won't relive it. I will not. I never loved her. I didn't know how.

The Vampire Armand, pp. 271-272 (hardcover 1998)

#interview with the vampire #book spoilers #iwtv spoilers #amc iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #the vampire armand #assad zaman #iwtv #the vampire claudia #auntiegifs

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allthornsnopetals · 5 months ago

Text

Amethyst orbs and raven Mane E.Bridgerton

Description: Flora Deluca has finally landed in Mayfair London, searching for garments and friends. She is on the hunt for a start in her new chapter, particularly adventure, something to thrive on as she dawns the ride of London, alongside Miss Eloise Bridgerton.

Love on Parchment E.Bridgerton - Master list

Warning: Mention of self harm, not proof-read

"Miss Eloise, why are you here so early?" Madame Delacroix welcomes Eloise into her store, blinking sleep from her eyes. "And without an escort." She pokes her nose outside the door, thinking her maid must be a few paces behind.

Once the door was closed and locked, she turned her attention to the intruder, cracking a brow, confused, questioning her early and unanticipated presence. "Lady da Silva is in town! And she is to be here in," Eloise glances at the clock, reading the time. "An hour, to shop for new dresses— clothes! Day wear, night wear and a gown for the first ball of the season. She's coming here!" She emphasizes, pointing to the ground of the store with both index fingers, excitement radiating from her glowing grin.

Madame Delacroix froze, mouth agape, looking near faint. "H-here! In my store! She is to shop here! At my store!" She claps her hands over her mouth, jumping in victory— this is deffentily something she could rub in the faces of the other modiste's in town—with a laugh of anticipation.

"Yes! Quickly, now time is slipping!"

With that, Madame Delacroix is moving, rushing to ready herself and the store, bubbling with excitement.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The time for Lady da Silva drew rather slowly, Eloise and Madame Delacroix slowly growing impatient, eager to meet their favored author in person. But as time gnawed on, Madame Delacroix attending to other customers, one of them being Cressida Cowper: an i'll-mannered debutante, the pair began to slowly lose hope.

The two discussed the matter of identifying, Lady da Silva. She's basically anonymous, known only by her alias. She's never been seen before, never identified, unmasked or discovered, she were a ghost. But Eloise knew for a fact that her admired author, is a punctual woman, moving always with haste, never to be in one place for long, as stated in her letters, shipped all throughout Europe. She is to come and she will know.

"I think this is the place, Lady Flora, it is the address Miss Eloise shared" Said Claudia, staring up at the door, letting the noble lady in with a slight push of the entrance, the bell ringing, calling to the store owner of a new customer.

Both Eloise and Madame Delacroix threw their attention to the door, eyes eager. The boutique was rather small, a lot smaller compared to those in Italy, but it smelt of fresh daisies and pomegranates. Flora allowed her lady Maid in, linking arms with her.

Claudia Auclair, is a close friend of Flora Deluca, born in Paris France, a year before Flora. She's a hand shorter than her Mistress with light fair skin, dotted with soft freckles, long urban hair, pale pink lips and large sea-green eyes with long urban lashes, who wore a simple blue maid uniform.

But the two looked very different, indeed.

Flora had long shiny raven hair, smooth, flawless alabaster skin. Tall too with sharp large amethyst eyes, lips stained a shade of light cherry red. Her lashes so long they kissed her brows. But the two were slim, barring chests, the size of two large fists, not too large but eye drawing, for sure.

Foreign beauty's, searching for garments.

"I'll be back in a short moment, I must see to your mothers list of ingredients." Said Claudia, patting her arm before breaking free.

"No, please leave her needs for last, I need you here, amie." Flora pouts, Italian accent thick and elegant.

Claudia shook her head. "You know your mother will flip if I did not attend her list. I am to pick up the ingredients, go back home and swing back to pick you up, I promise." Said Claudia spotting a pair of Maids, running errands.

"Don't get lost and stay safe." They waved farewell, leaving Flora alone.

Eloise and Madame Delacroix share a look, gaping at the young lady, unable to tear their eyes away.

"Ow!" Cressida hisses, pulling her arm away from the needle, that had pricked her.

"My apologies, Miss Cressida, I did not mean to." Said Madame Delacroix, winching away as the young lady huffed in annoyance, checking the wound, her mother staring at Flora, intrigued by the new face.

"You'll look fabulous in that. I have never seen anyone pull off such a fabric like that, but I am sure a young fine lady like yourself would look flattering in it." Said Araminta, stalking behind Flora, hands held behind her back, observing her, as one studied a flower.

Turning her gaze, Flora forced her face to wake, wanting to smile. "Oh, well that's a lovely thing to say. But I am not sure pink is my color, it might clash with my eyes if it were the wrong shade." She starts the conversation, her accent giving way to her foreign roots.

"You are definitely not from around here, your speech sounds, rather exotic, Miss?" Araminta extends a hand, drawing a toothy grin.

"Flora Deluca, and you are ma'am?" She curties, shaking her hand.

"Deluca? As in Lord Andrew Deluca? Are you his granddaughter?" She inquires, dipping a curtsy in return, shaking her hand before releasing it as Flora nods.

"I am Lady Cowper and that is my daughter Cressida," She points at a fairly tall blonde, mouthing off the tailor. Flora grimaced, taking note to stay clear of her and her mother, who seems to adore her own voice.

"I am rather shocked to see a Deluca in person, your grandfather rarely left his abode, and when he did, he never socialized. He's not a socialist." She chuckles, as if she said something funny.

"Well, he did lose my Nona before his own passing, Lady Cowper. I do expect a widow to wish to be alone, away from nosy ladies." Said Flora, meaner than she intended, hoping to be rid of the woman.

But Lady Cowper did not get the hint or she simply is too dimwitted to smell displeasure under her nose. She chuckles once again, clearly trying to win favor of the stray Deluca.

"That's what I said to Lady featherington, but she simply thought he were rather rude and incompetent. That woman can be mean at times."

And so can you, I see your kindness leak and stain your own kin. Flora thought, cheeks straining as she grew tired of grinning.

Heels clanked against the floor in rushed and irritated foot steps, drawing closer to her and Lady Cowper. "Mama, we're finished, I do wish to go. Now would be nice." Cressida groans, fixing the fabric of her shoulder.

"Now, don't be rude, darling." Her mother nudges her, elbow plowing her side. "Cressida this is Flora Deluca, she's Lord Andrew's granddaughter." Flora curtsies while Cressida simply bows her head in rush, shoving a large box in her mothers arms.

"Pleasure to meet you."

"Yes, pleasures all mine. Can we go, now! I want to meet up with the girls." She rolls her eyes, ushering her mother, as if she were an impatient child.

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry for your loss, child. I do hope we meet again." Lady Cowper pats her arm, gliding out of the exit, but not without scolding her daughter.

Flora releases a relieved sigh. "I hope, not." She deflates, missing Claudia.

"Ahem, Madame I am ready for you." Said the seamstress, gesturing Flora forward, a smile written on her liquid caramel skin.

She nods, traveling deeper, eyes trained to the floor. Eloise grins, knowing she's the one.

"I don't presume you know an Eloise Bridgerton, by chance?" Once the question was out, Eloise jumps from her seat, rushing over, holding out her letter.

"I am she. It's a pleasure, to finally make your acquaintance, Lady da Silva!" Eloise grins, pulling the taller lady in a tight embrace, squeezing the oxygen from her lungs, side of her face pressed, rather deeply to her chest.

Flora stares down at the other woman, who gasps, eyes blown in shock, and welling. "You're here! You're actually here! I couldn't believe it when I received your letter, I thought it a joke at first, but you're actually here!" Eloise pulls away, brighter then any star, Flora has ever seen.

"Ma'am." Madame Delacroix dips a deep curtsy, shock swelling inside her.

Flora blinks, flabbergasted, fixing her dress. "This is Madame Delacroix, the finest Modiste in all of Mayfair and a huge fan."

The girl who couldn't be any older than she, beams. She had very blue eyes, long lashes, short chestnut brown hair, decorated with bangs, thin pink stained lips, her skin fair and smooth. Pretty.

The woman who gazes at Flora with awe was older. Her eyes big and brown, complimented with long dark lashes, hair black, curly and long, her skin flawless in a shade best described as burnt caramel. Stunning. By her accent, she's French, like Claudia, but something about her speech seems rather forced, perhaps fake.

Flora regains her posture, sniffing, taking the space in. "No, please call me Flora or Lady Deluca but I do wish for my first name. We are friends, are we not?" She bobs a crusty to both parties, grinning as she did, drawing closer to the mirror, gazing at her appearance.

She wore something, rather simple. A white long-sleeved button-up blouse, complimented with a long slim purple dress and black leather gloves. Hair held up in a knot with silver hair-sticks, donned with amethysts. She fixes her purple stole over her shoulders, stealing a glance at her black thigh-high-heeled boots— garments best, suited for house back.

Eloise expected an elder woman, perhaps a widow, bearing a day dress and wrinkles, but she was greatly mistaken. Instead, she discovered a tall beauty, one who wore a purple dress, skidded with mud at its hem with flawless and even polished boots. Whoever she was, Eloise most certainly was not expecting her.

"Wait, Lady da Silvia, is a noble?" Eloise gassed, grinning, admiration vivid in her speech and face. "How do you do it? You are a woman, a noble woman, no less... But you did it!" She stutters, gesturing her to sit with her at a small corner table

"Well I- Madame Delacroix are you going to join us, I did bring biscuits." Flora motions the Modiste to draw a chair at the table.

The woman quickly sat, thrill filling her face and body as Flora whisks the white box open, powdering the aroma of sugar, vanilla, citrus and chocolate. "Oh, I'll make some tea, collect cups, plates and cakes." Madame Delacroix stands, gliding up the stairs.

"Would you like some help?" Said Flora, her voice at a level of conversation but loud enough to be carried for the Modiste to hear and decline her offer.

Silence transcends between Eloise and Flora, Eloise gazing at her, chin in hand, her smile abnormally large. The young lady felt rather uncomfortable, glancing at her then back at her hands, wishing she stared at something other than her. But Eloise couldn't pull her gaze away, intrigued by her pen pow and in awe by her face, best described as beautiful, perhaps like a-

"Tulip! Yes, your face reminds me of a tulip. A purple one of course." Eloise puffs a grin, awkwardly chuckling at her own finding.

"I beg your pardon. You say my face takes the shape of a cup with parallel-vained petals."

Eloise swallows thickly, cheeks and ears heating, losing her flare, feeling as if she had said something inappropriate. She scrambles to apologize but halts, holding her tongue at the sound of Flora laughing, darting her gaze to her lap, lips curving the edges of eyes, wrinkling them as she smiles.

She smiles with her eyes. Eloise notes, finding the trait, rather enduring.

Eloise grins, usually most would have never found something like that humorous or remotely comical. Most would have found her words as insensitive, rude or mean... But not her, she had laughed, amused and entertained.

"That is quite the... flattery, Miss Eloise."

"Well, that's what I see when I look at your face, a pretty tulip."

Madame Delacroix, returns to the table, tray, tea and sweets in hand, all while wearing a stunning smile, and without surprisingly dropping or spilling anything, skills. She poured the ladies cups of mixed berry tea, served the biscuits and the other sweets present. Sipping her tea, Flora hums, relaxing and enjoying the taste.

"Mixed berry tea is one of my favorites, thank you, kindly." Said Flora, sipping her tea, grinning, lowering the tea to the saucer.

"Well how did you do it?" Asked Madame Delacroix, eager for an answer, leaning forward, as if waiting for a story.

"How did I do it, indeed," Flora began, leaning back in the seat, thinking. "Perhaps, a dream is how it began, perhaps belittlement or loud brothers-."

"Which you have nine of." Eloise chimes, drawing her tea, listening intently. "Nine, well that must conjure much noise." Said Madame Delacroix.

"Oh, yes. I bed and study in my own little space at home, it is lovely. It keeps the noise at bay, you both must visit some time. I am blessed with a large enough library for it to be mistaken for a ballroom. I'll be pleased for either of you to stay for tea, lunch or even dare I say... dinner." She winks over her cup, drinking rather slowly.

"That would be lovely but it would have to be after the debutante season, it's the peak of the year for me." Madame Delacroix explains, breaking a piece of a lemon biscuit before indulging.

"Ahhh, yes your boutique. It's lovely, I am rather nervous of what outfits you have for me, Madame Delacroix. I have heard great things about you and your work, may I ask how you came to be such a... Talented Modiste."

Her eyes twinkle, as stars awake in her gaze. "Well, if you must know. I came from a rather poor family and I was quite skilled with needle work and designing, so I put it to good use. Several years later I found myself here, tailoring young ladies of the Ton, making beauties out of them." She grins proudly, something Flora finds rather amazing.

"To see a rose grow from concrete is a true strength within itself, won't you agree."

Madame Delacroix grin, widens, strengthening her features.

"Ah, your outfits, come my lady, I must draw a design with my newest fabrics." She gleams, dragging her to the dais, facing her front first to mirror.

"We are already aware of purple, white and black as your best colors but I am thinking something more daring, more flamboyant." Madame Delacroix schemes, eyes trained on Flora's complexion.

Her gaze sparks, gently removing Flora's stole, Madame Delacroix immediately gets to work. "This will do, indeed. You are to be this season's new diamond, I am sure of it." Her grin shines as she waddles back with deep emerald green fabric, matching it to her complexion.

"Oh, I am not sure I'll make such a shade work, ma'am I don-"

"Don't speak such nonsense, you are beautiful, I need not to do much but clothe you."

With that she is sewing, threading and weaving. In just a few short moments, a dress meant to be so breath taking, Flora was sure to faint, had been made. "Oh, my... Madame Delacroix I must thank your kindness with more than just coins." Flora gushes, taking the gown in her arms.

Madame Delacroix chuckles, comparing the garment in the mirror.

"You thank me by trying it on for me."

With some encouragement and time, Flora is completely clothed, gloves still worn. "Would you wish for me to craft you a pair of gloves?" Madame Delacroix offers. Flora nods, watching her get to work.

Eloise stares in wonder, her eyes trained on Flora, as if she were a book of magic, adventure and thrill. Beautiful.

She couldn't control her face, falling into a rather unflattering goofy grin, hunching over, looking almost drunk. But she were only smitten with her beauty, here complexion mixing well with her dress, Eloise is simply enchanted.

"Your grin reminds me of a drunken sailor." Flora laughs, bearing a new pair of gloves.

Eloise clears her throat, returning her gaze to her book, awkwardly flushing like a tomato, while Flora slides behind the dividers once more, undressing. She hands the gown back to Madame Delacroix, allowing her to box it. Just as she were about to round the corner, Claudia enters, her face a flush and out of breath.

"Miss Flora, my apologies but your mother is in labor, you are to be home at once, a carriage awaits you." She bobs a curtsy, breathing her words, clearly exhausted and worried. "Thank you Claudia." Turning to Eloise and Madame Delacroix. "Thank you both, I wish to meet again and soon I prefer. Again, your work will be thanked with more than just coins, I promise you. It's truly a pleasure to meet you both." She curtsies, gliding out of the exit with haste, forgetting her stole.

But just as Eloise took notice, she was gone, her carriage riding away, leaving her first interaction with Miss Flora Deluca fresh and starving. At least she remembered her gown and gloves.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Scouting the market alone, Flora strolls to a florist stall, browsing the large range of colorful petals and stems, taking notice of the familiar company behind her, clanking her cane in pause of reaching her location.

"Do you tend to shadow me, Lady Danbury." Said Flora, trading a penny for a bouquet of pink Azaleas.

"I tend to welcome you to Mayfair." Lady Danbury slides beside Flora, trading coin for a few flowers of her own, linking arms with her, taking flight through the market.

"It seems you are rather late. Lady Cowper has beaten you to it, and I must say, her and her beast of an offspring are less than charming. Their welcome was rather stale."

Lady Danbury chuckles. "Yes, well they're ill-mannered and nosy. Lady Cowper is hoping to wed Cerssida to your second eldest brother, Benjamin." She pauses, stalling at a booth of quills, side eyeing the pair who seem to be watching them both, like hawks.

Flora sniffs, admiring a quill of black feather and white pen. "I'd rather lose an eye than dare assign an ill-mannered girl as sister-in-law. Yes, I'll take this one, thank you."

Placing the new item in her basket, the pair are off, just in time as Lady Cowper and her daughter glide their way in their direction, ditching them. "I don't think your mother is thinking straight, especially after last evening's unfortunate events. I truly am sorry for your loss, it would have been a blessing to have another girl around." Said Lady Danbury sympathetically, swooping past the Featheringtons and their bickering, squawking like a flock of birds.

Flora swallows harshly, grimacing at the sound of the flock of redheads, fighting over a rather ugly hat. "Well, my mother did have high hopes, wanting a daughter more like herself would have brightened up her days. But that's her last pregnancy, I am sure she can find peace again, after all she's been blessed with ten children in total."

Lady Danbury hums in agreement. "And how is she, your mother." She asks, ducking into a store with less ears.

Reading the situation, Flora lowers her voice to a whisper.

"As you said, she's not thinking straight. She wept in my fathers arms for the entire night, afraid she'll be left alone. It's not looking good and I'm worried about her, about this season. My first, second and third eldest brothers. Alexander, Benjamin and Christopher are planning to be wed..."

"But you do not wish to take part this season?"

Flora shook her head, pretending to browse for China cups. "Your father knows not of your books." She inquires, taking a cup in hand, inspecting it.

"No, he would lose his mind if he knew, and send me back to the Academy. I'll be a prisoner." She sighs, lowering her gaze. "If I marry, my own husband will forbid me from what I love and lock me away, serving only as his child bearer. That will be no life for me, but for him, enjoying the fruits of my labor."

"There must be more to this life, Lady Danbury, more to this stale bread and rotten cheese." Her eyes linger to her gloved hands, wishing for something more.

Lady Danbury was a hard woman, but she had a soft heart, one that stretched and even ached for the young Lady, oh how she wished she were made of steel. "Look at me, child." She says, her tone leveled and serious, drawing Flora's attention with the head of her cane, motioning her chin to face her.

"I will see to a worthy husband for you. One that will not stop you from pursuing your passions, one that will not trap you as his heir bearer, but his wife, his equal. He will not steal your fruit but prune them, help them grow. I promise you. Now stop pouting, it's truly aching." She releases her chin, shaking her head, a grin prompting her withered features.

"Are you saying that you will take me under your wing?" Flora chases after Lady Danbury, beaming with joy, linking arms with her again.

She chuckles. "Yes, child but only at the ball."

Flora tilts her head. "Not at the Palace, before her Majesty?" She questions, lining a grape from her basket, popping it past her lips before feeding one to Lady Danbury.

"Exactly!" She crunches, dragging the young Lady with her, prompting for another purple fruit.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"Barney, play nice." Flora instructs the floppy eared corgi as he follows Lady Danbury and her, flopping around on his little legs, catching up to Newton.

Lady Danbury stuck up her nose, walking the length of the garden. "I did not think of you as a pet sort of person." She grimaced, taking comfort in a chair, ringing for tea and sweets.

Flora shrugged, her poster straight and clean as an army soldier. "As did I but my father noticed I did not have many or any friends, so he gifted me Barney and Fern."

"You have more pets." Lady Danbury jeers, heaving a sigh, one of disapproval.

"A cat, a big lazy white cat. She does nothing but she is a good cuddle buddy, who counts as a personal alarm." She chuckles at the older woman's expression.

A while later a servant with two more hot on his tail, trails towards them, bearing tea, sweets, cutlery and trays. They set things up, rather hastily, leaving faster as they had come. A younger servant, a boy lingered behind, pouring tea and serving sweets.

Flora smelt the warm liquid with a noticeable frown. "English tea has only gotten worse. Is there any way I could call for mixed berry or black tea." Flora turns the cup, addressing the server.

"I will call for black tea, go Harry, stop gawping at Miss Flora and tend to her order." She flaps a dismissive hand, rolling her eyes as the young lad steals himself a glance, his grin donning a displeased huff from Lady Danbury.

"You could have any man, any Lord, viscount, prince and servant-"

A huff and a taught glare shuts the Lady down for only moment, her grin displaying amusement.

"I take that you miss her." Lady Danbury says, sipping her tea, studying her distant niece.

Flora tightens her jaw, playing a confused manner. "Miss whom?"

The Mistress chuckles, sighing a great irritation with a roll of her eyes. "Don't play me a fool, child. You miss Brooke, her hair, her face... Her laugh. You loved her." Flora scoffs, shaking her head, gathering Barney in her lap.

"Who is to state the feeling of love? Who is to say love is a tingling sensation, a tickle of the heart... Or a stab of irony." Flora's tone drops, her tongue donning a nasty pool of acidic waves.

"A cruel joke spoken, a play written by rotten Gods. A cry, mistaken as an oath. Love is but a joke. I miss her, not." She spat, stuffing her mouth with a slice of cake.

"Irony? Hmm... I see your most recent publish, quite clearly now. She broke your heart, I assume." With a slight glare and tight jaw, her assumption stood answered, without a word.

"You invited me for research." Flora turns the subject, stroking her pet.

When the time to leave Lady Danbury's home had dawned, Flora was in a rather sour mood, reading over her list of possible husbands, missing the rushing man. She made a sound of surprise and shock, bumping into someone who appeared to be two hands shorter than herself, with hair described as lovely brown with eyes that match his locks, his skin fair.

"Excuse me!" She hissed, pushing the gentlemen back. "Can you not see where you are going!" She continues, watching his gaze floor up, eyes blown open with his mouth agape.

"C-clearly n-not, my apologies." He bows his head, still gazing at Flora.

"Stop staring, it's rather rude."

He clears his throat, patting his chest. "Apologies, miss..." He trails off, offering an opening for introductions. "Flora and you are?" She offers a rushed bob of her head, keeping Barney close on his lead.

"Anthony." He grins a bit too eagerly. "Charmed, well good day to you, sir. I best be on my way." She says briskly, finding her feet, gliding away, missing her stole.

Anthony falls in step with her, walking beside her, finding it challenging to match her pace. Her legs tend to out-walk many, but not fast enough in this case.

"You know Lady Danbury? It's strange, she would have introduced you to me at some point, Miss Flora. By your accent I say that it must have happened or perhaps I have forgotten our first encounter." He continues, breathing harshly, showing struggle."

Flora shook her head, wanting little-man to go away. "Perhaps, nothing. I have never met you in my life, and in this moment I wish I never had. Please, sir save me your company and part yourself from me."

Anthony chuckled, blinking rapidly, flabbergasted that a woman would want him gone. "Excuse me. Is this how you address a viscount?" He paused with a satisfied grin gracing his lips as Flora abandoned her plan of escape. Cracking her jaw, she turns her heels, scowl visible.

"Is this how you address a lady?" She spat, gliding closer to him, staring his smug look down, from the bridge of her nose.

"Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, my lady. First of his name and surely the most handsome." He tips his hat with a hop in his step.

Flora rolls her eyes, internally kicking herself for stopping.

"Bridgerton. Great, so your Eloise's brother, eldest by your flamboyant introduction. Oh, how I wish you were Benedict or even Colin. By your sister's description, they're the more handsome brothers and you... The more, rather, annoying one." She laughed at his reaction.

He blinked again, his hand to his chest, mouth hung open.

She patted him on the arm, comforting him sarcastically. "It's quite okay, she also said you were a troll." Flora says, continuing her stroll, satisfied.

"How did you encounter my adoring sister?"

"She were a pen pow, an interesting one. I sent her a letter while stationed in Florence Italy for the summer, from there our friendship blossomed. She is a breath of fresh air."

The two walked, sharing stories and small laughs, mainly through the act of bullying and teasing. The sky slowly brew an orange hue with hints of pretty yellow by the time, the pair drew near the Bridgerton house, both still high on ethics and politics.

"And you learnt this all by reading and traveling, Miss Flora?" Anthony allowed his new found friend, inside.

"There is much to learn when on the road and sea, much, indeed."

Storm-like footsteps drew close along with laughter and banter. A girl and a boy much younger than herself blister around their brother, begging for sweets, welcoming him home. The boy turns his head, pausing, racking his gaze, stopping at Flora's face.

"Hi... I am Gregory, and you are Madame?" He bows, offering his arm.

Flattered, Flora takes his arm. "I am Flora Deluca. You are quite the gentleman, far better than your brother." She points at him and the girl, who still begs for sweets.

The young lad opens his mouth to speak but flushes, flapping it open and closed. A large gasp draws her attention up the main stairway. "Flora! I did not know you were going to be here. I would have readied myself." Eloise rushes down the steps, her hair bouncing against her shoulders.

She bleeds into her arms, face in her chest. "It is a pleasure to see you so soon, please stay for dinner. I am hating this place." She crones, dragging her away from her fumbling brother, to the drawing room.

"Wow, you are really pretty! Are you and my brother friends! Is he your new fancy!" The girl with chestnut ringlets, bobs, slipping between Flora and Eloise.

"No, you busybody! Now go away, before I choke you to death." Eloise hisses. "Not in front of our guest, who I am sure will not be your friend if you were to murder your own sister."

"Hyacinth, I swear... If you don't-"

"Oh, who might you be?"

Flora stood, recognizing the woman of the house. "Mother this is Flora Deluca, Andrew's granddaughter and Eloise's friend." Said Anthony, sitting across from the pair.

"Oh, my condolences, to you and your family. It is not easy to lose someone you hold so dearly. Lady Violet Bridgerton, but you may call me Violet." She shakes her hand, welcoming her new guest.

"Well, thank you Violet. I am rather flattered by your children, Anthony here was kind enough to invite me. Oh, and I can't forget Eloise, she is an amazing friend, someone who I suspect will be a great company and source of partnership." She grinned, bobbing a curtsy.

Barney flopped around, enjoying belly rubs from Hyacinth and Gregory. His tiny tail wagged at the attention as the kids played, allowing him to lick their faces.

Violet found herself smiling. "Ah, yes- are you wed?" Anthony cocked his head, waiting while Eloise jumped to her feet. "Well, mama, perhaps we best save those questions for the season, I am sure Flora is well aware of all her possible prospects." Said Eloise, grabbing hold of her arm. "We are to head to my room. Call us when dinner is served."

Eloise shoves Flora into her room with Barney trailing behind. She slams the door shut and turns the lock. "Sorry about them, they can be... Well, nosy." Eloise clasps her hands in front of her, strutting behind Flora who admires her collection of books.

"No need, I get it. Whenever I have a boy over, my brothers suddenly have more than enough time on their hands. Once I had a tutor over for tea, a boy and they scared him off. I never received an English lesson from him, since. Now my accent is hard to understand and quite the opener for teasing. I hate the way I sound."

Tilting her head, Eloise studied her, wondering why she would hate such an luring accent. Eloise was not a fool to her beauty but her accent sealed the deal, drawing her attention by simply uttering a word. "You sound like poetry, come to life. While I sound, of rubbish and needles." She gestures, snatching herself a book.

"No, you don't." Said Flora, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. "You sound like the sea, calming and calling. There is no need for me to run back to it so quickly when I have it right here with me."

Eloise sucks in air, her skin tingling under her touch, suddenly sweating a great deal. "Is that my stole." Flora whisks her hand away, strutting over to her bed, the fabric laced over her pillows.

"Uh... Yes, you had forgotten it at the Modiste. I intended to return it to you tomorrow at the ball but you may have it back, now."

"Thank you, I thought I would never see it again." She floors it over her shoulders, inspecting the parchment scattered over Eloise's bed.

"I noticed dog hair on it and wondered why, but he answers that ponder." Eloise points at Barney, scratching him behind the ears, speaking to him as if he were a baby.

"There was also cat hair, but I see no cat." She investigates, sitting with Flora with Barney in her lap.

"Yes, but Fern is a lazy blob, she will only move when wanting cuddles or a sunbath." Flora replies, scotching closer to Eloise, stroking Barney between his ear.

"Why, so many copies of..." She trails, reading the column. "Lady Whistledown? She seems quite the gossip. Is this the type of material, you enjoy reading?" She inspects the parchment, arching a brow as she reads.

"No- Well, yes but not for what you think. That's a lie too, but she like yourself is anonymous. And rather talented."

"She reports on gossip." Flora says flatly, tossing the paper in the heap of other 'useless' columns.

"That's what makes her, so talented. She can collect the hottest scandals of the Ton and still no one knows who she is." Said Eloise, speaking in praise, gesturing with her hands.

"Not if someone takes a visit to the printer she publishes her column from."

Eloise turns her gaze to the foreign beauty, her eyes large and awake.

"What?" Said Eloise, rubbing her nose.

"The printer. The paper and ink is found on the poorest side of London, far from the Ton. Just beside the docks, it's where most papers are purchased."

"Come again." Said Eloise, dusting Barney from her lap, learning forward, inches from Flora's face, investigating her statement.

Wetting her lips, Flora pulls back, finding comfort in her own personal space. "Most papers and even books are sold at the docks, capturing new customers and buyers. It's a great form of business, get them when they're hot and new, unable to know any better." She explains as Eloise rubs her hands together, thinking with a marvelous grin, conducting a plan behind her sapphire eyes.

"I have a proposal for you, Lady da Silva. How about you write your new book on the unmasking of Lady Whistledon. Lady da Silva vs Lady Whistledown." She announced, arching her hands in the air, visualizing a great header.

Flora thought for a moment, pondering over her proposal. She's put out of romance, completely bleached and drained of it. She had no reason to say no, after all she has not published a solid book in two whole years, a new scenery might do her some good.

"Fine, but I'll only agree if you keep this between us, tell no one. I don't want anyone unmasking my own identity in the process, understood?" She held out her hand.

"Deal, no will ever know." Said Eloise, shaking her hand in agreement, giddy with excitement.

Eloise clasps her hands together, informing Flora of what she knows and what she thought she knew. With that she begins to write down the information, ringing together a plot, a character, an entire story line. She wrote and listened, eating dinner in Eloise's room, long after the sun had set.

"Perhaps, we are to uncover more at Lady Danbury's ball tomorrow. We will discuss, snoop around and squeeze in a few dances." Said Flora, tucking her diary into her purse.

"Dance?" Eloise questions, licking her fingers.

"Yes, I am to attend a ball for a reason. To find a good enough Suitor is a dawning task, indeed." She replies, shaking out a napkin, drawing Eloise's face with her clothed finger tips, wiping away food from her lips and face.

"You are to find a husband, Ellie. Are you not?"

Eloise swallows thickly, allowing Flora to clean her face. Her stomach clenching at the nickname, her eyes trained on Flora's stained lips, desiring a different kind of Suitor. She could feel her breath fan her lips, her breath smelling of lemonade.

"Are you not?" Flora repeats, drawing back, sliding her plate to the floor, letting Barney finish what she could not.

Eloise shook her head, forcing herself to reality. "No! A woman should not have to enter society via marriage and baby bearing." She scowls, missing their closeness.

"I agree but I cannot live my life, a spinster. It would do no good to my family, my dynasty or my reputation." She explains, watching Barney flop his ears, begging Eloise for her plate.

Rolling her eyes, she clatters her plate on top of Flora's slumping back on the pile of columns. "I don't think my heart aligns with society's norms, Flora." She exhales a sigh, folding her hands on her stomach.

"Mmm, in France, a man may wed another man but not by paper or in public. But by vow, and oath, shared between them both. They are to love but never bear a document, for that is not what love needs to blossom..." She begins, laying beside Eloise, staring up at the ceiling.

"It just needs two beings willing to love one another... Without running away or breaking the heart of the other. I believe it can be done even if someone harbors affection for, something slightly different." She finished, feeling Eloise staring at her.

"You believe I fancy women."

Flora glances around, feeling as if she had misread the situation. "Is that not what you implied." She looks at Eloise now, fumbling with her hands.

"Y-yes... I don't know. I think so. It's just, I don't desire a man as I do a woman. It's hard to write on paper, you know. I wasn't sure you'll write back if I simply state 'I think I fancy women'." Eloise jokes, breathing harder.

Flora shook her head. "You know, every book and poem I wrote were through the hearts and eyes of lovers, who could not love the way they wished. Plumps and Berries: is an example. I interviewed an elderly woman, who-"

"Fell in love with her lady Maid, yes I remember. But it were a man, a man who you replaced as the elderly woman. She fell in love with the lady Maid who committed suicide, who had killed herself because she could not fathom what she had done. She was consumed with guilt, regarding her affection after she had bedded the brother of the lady she served." Eloise finished, her eyes widening in discovery.

"It was the first romance novel that I wept over. I truly thought it a fictional masterpiece. It tore my heart from my chest. I did not know it were about two women, both who died without the other in their arms." She drifted off, staring back at the ceiling.

"How could you. I disguised their story, so no one would ever know. Their love was hidden but had a right to be shared, regardless of the tragic ending. What I'm trying to say, Ellie. Love whomever you wish, even if it is to be hidden." Flora forced her gaze back to her with her fingers.

"Make it through this season and see where you go from there. You might just surprise yourself."

With that she was gone, collecting her stole and corgi, thanking every member of the house for their hospitality, folding for the night and leaving for home.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The night of the ball came quickly, bustling the garden house of Lady Danbury, spilling with Suitors and Debutantes. It were a moonlit night with flowers, beautiful decor and music. It was an amazing start to the season, indeed.

Flora donned her deep emerald green gown of jewels, complimented with a pair of long black fabricked gloves. Her hair pinned back in a French twist, adorned with green gems, elegant wear for an elegant soiree. She wore only a slim emerald necklace and pearl sized earrings to match. She did miss her boots, feeling rather strange in a pair of jeweled heels.

"Edwina seems to be enjoying herself, look at her grow so quickly, amie." Said Flora, chatting with Kate.

"Mmm, she will make an amazing wife. She will find herself a love-match, and so will you. I see your dance card is full. The men here are rather smitten with you, Miss Flora." Her dear friend teased, grinning a great deal for someone in a rather sour mood.

She glances down at her, pushing a flask into her hand. Kate gawps at it, ushering them both into a hidden backroom, far from prying eyes.

"Where did you find this?"

"It's tea, and not rubbish English tea." Flora says, unmasking a flask from her under-skirt, intended for herself.

Kate takes a swig and clears her throat, pulling a face of sour taste, like she had sucked a bitter lemon.

"Tea with a slight kick. Sure to ward off any fatigue. And hide the stench of alcohol." Flora chuckles before chugging a great deal for herself, blistering in the taste.

"A kick, indeed." Kate coughs, throwing back another shot, rolling down the wall, huffing as Flora joins her. "Thank you, I needed this. Now go and enjoy the ball, you look far too nice to be hidden back here with me."

They chuckle, dwindling in their long friendship. "Don't be silly Kathani. I missed you and our races. I still recall ten to four, you really do suck." She teases, earning her a jab in the side.

"I am sorry for not visiting Bombay for some time. I was supposed to visit, before my grandfather passed. He is my only supporter and man who seems to enjoy funding my travels and writing. I miss him, greatly." Flora drifts, resting her head on Kate's shoulder.

"No, I'm just glad to see you again, pyar." Kate strokes her clothed hand, kissing Flora's hair, inhaling her scent, her eyes closed.

"Love? Do you love me, Kate?" Said Flora, her tone: sweet and luring.

Kate chuckles, rolling her eyes. "Only as much as I'll allow my heart to. I am not the only one, I am aware of your many options. I will not be an option." She states, squeezing Flora's arm, comforting herself in her hair.

Flora grins, pushing her lips to her flask. "I will never treat you as such, amore. You are my friend, who I will be glad to get drunk with."

Kate snorts as Flora lays in her lap, drinking from her flask. "I'll say, getting drunk with you is a privilege." They raise their flasks, in cheers, bathing in the silence away from the ball.

She studies Kate, sensing a strong cause for her bitter mood. "Something's bothering you, I can smell it. What happened, amire." Says Flora, drawing Kate's attention to her.

She huffs exasperatedly, shaking her head, annoyance vivid in the way she laps her tongue over the inner-walls of her cheek. "Men can really be... Inconsiderate, foul and dimwitted. They fantasize their definition of a perfect woman, expecting that 'perfect' woman to fall into their laps. We are human, we are not perfect and we certainly are not some man-made thing to entertain men, and their unrealistic standards." Kate snarls, drinking back the concoction.

"Ah, so you met the viscount"

"Yes! He is such a pig!" Kate scowls with a trail of her drink dripping down her chin.

"He is aware of what he wants, and seems to believe that his dream woman is obtainable. He is a fool. But entertaining and very easy to bully."

Kate scoffs, rolling her eyes and downing the remains of her drink. One look from her and Flora is trading her flask for Kate's, tucking the empty metal in her under-skirt.

She shimmies a copy of Lady Whisltedown's column from her bodice, unfolding it. "Oh, don't tell me you're a frequent reader of Lady Whisltedown." Says Kate, snatching the parchment from her, reading the inked page.

"No, but I am intrigued by her findings." She replies, trying to take the paper back. "Intrigued? Oh, so you're on the cusp of becoming a frequent reader. Are you starved of gossip?" Kate waves it just above Flora's reach, laughing at her squirm for it.

"Flora! There you are- whose this?" Said Eloise, now standing in front of them, adorned with a strained toothy smile, flicking her gaze between them both, curious and slightly twinged.

"Ellie, darling! You look..." Flora eyes Eloise, drawing her gaze from her feet to her face. "B-b-bewitching." She stammers, grinning slightly with a small twinkle in her eyes.

She wore a blue gown, bejeweled with gems. Her hair pulled back in an elegant up-do, complimented with a diamond and sapphire crown, matching her small flower designed necklace, and white gloves. She wore heels, no doubt by the couple inches she has gained, from the last Flora had seen her.

Eloise ducks her head, fiddling with her fingers, her dance card swinging with every fiddle. She bashfully grins, her cheeks tinting with a bite of the inside of her cheeks. Flora missed it but Kate hadn't. Kate can always tell when someone fancied another. She had a gift of disiphering signs and body language: tinted cheeks, biting or nibbling of lips and cheeks. She knew them the signs, as she knew her own hand.

Eloise was falling, but Flora couldn't see it. Couldn't see how Eloise softened when her attention was on her or how she hardened when she spotted Kate. She knew it all, but Flora did not. Did not know of what hid behind Eloise's tight smile and her gritted teeth that seemed to subsided as Flora sat up, acknowledging Elosie, as if she were a star in a sky filled with only darkness and one ball of burning gas. In due time, she will, but right now, Flora is blind.

There was something growing there, and Kate wasn't about to spoil its growth.

"I'm Kate Sharma, Flora's friend. Come join, if you wish. I was about to check on my sister." Said Kate, standing and handing the parchment back to Flora but keeping the full flask.

"Eloise Bridgerton. I'm not disturbing anything, am I? If, so you can stay and I'll leave." Says Eloise, fumbling.

"No! Nothing's a disturbance. Stay, I'll go." She turns her attention to Flora. "9.00am sharp, no later. Three races, no more and no less." She explains, pointing her finger, determined in her speech and expression.

"Why not four? Make it even and a greater win for me." Flora teased, watching Kate poke her tongue at her before strutting off in search of her sister.

Once gone, Eloise takes Kate's spot, pulling a small diary from her dress pocket with a smaller pencil in hand. "I have written Lady Whisltedown's most recent publishes with dates, hoping to see a pattern." Eloise explains, her nose dipping every time she spoke with interest, the cogs of her mind, turning with ever thought.

Flora listens, taking notes for her own diary, scribbling down every thought and theory pooling from Eloise's lips, wanting to collect every detail without a miss.

"How long have you and Kate been friends for?" Eloise suddenly blurts, gaze trained on her notes.

"Since I learned to read and she to speak. We were tiny and had two mothers who were rather close to each other. My mother is her mothers best friend and her mother is my mothers best friend. She is older than myself... Kate is six to twenty, and I am one to eighteen. So... I guess when I was one to ten and she was one to seventeen." Flora explained, standing and dragging Eloise with her.

"Wait, she was just learning how to speak at one to seventeen! And you were just understanding how to read at one to ten!"

"Yes, English was not the easiest language for her at the time, but she's a natural now. I found speaking it a lot easier but reading it... Well, it had its ups and downs." Says Flora, linking arms with her, noting the tenseness in Eloise's stance, deciding not to look into it too much.

"You think that, whoever Lady Whistledown is. She tends to have some sort of pattern with her K's?" Flora inspects, strolling through the gardens, studying the stars.

Eloise paused for a moment, savoring the peace of the night and its coolness that it provides in such a warm season. She felt as if suffocating in the heat of the season of marriage and eager Suitors, making her vomit and wish she were a spinster, able to live her life as she wished, and perhaps be someone of adventure... Like Flora or Colin with the right to such a free life..

To experience more than stale bread and rotten cheese, to live and find love on her own terms— to be whomever she wished without the fear of losing her family. Without losing the first form of love she has ever experienced. Her silence in thought draws Flora's eyes, pulling them from the beauty of the sky.

Eloise had closed her eye, drawing in thought, inhaling the aroma of the sweet and delicate flowers, enjoying the scents of nature, making her wishshe were in the country, away from the buzz of the city and its nosy occupants. Flora drew Eloise closer, cuddling her by waist and providing Elosie with comfort in her shoulder.

"Love will find you, Ellie. And when it does, you will know." Said Flora, sensing something that only Benedict or her mother would have felt. "You may not want it now, but when you find it or it finds you, you never want it to leave. You'll trap it in a jar with a strong lid and treat it as if it were your own prisoner that you'll care for and never have another steal from you." Flora continued, thumbing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Eloise is staring at her now, her eyes downing her, as if she were a glass of water, and she, a man of unclenchable thirst. She thought, Flora a mind reader or some sort of witch by the ease in knowing of what floated in her mind. She felt as if Flora were Stephn, from her most recent and rather old book, 'The darling of Florance'. A man who could read his love, as it were his own palm or mind. Was he too a hidden woman, yearning for a life to love publicly.

Eloise pondered the thought, wishing she understood herself a little more and able to defog the twist in her stomach when it came to the daughters of the Ton.

"Is that how you feel?" She asks, swatting closer, wanting her body unbearably closer.

Flora smiles slightly with a pung in her chest. If it were any louder, she was sure Elosie could hear. "Unfortunately, yes. I believe that every man and woman has a star waiting for them. Someone that is only meant for them, even if it means waiting for the next life. My star is waiting for me and longing for my company, I just hope they come sooner than later."

They?

Eloise was aware of the masked love in her books. But she never thought that it impacted her, the author. She assumed that she accepted all love, regardless if it were shared between two men or women. Elosie always thought her mind to be open to all who were different.

"Just men?" Eloise inspected.

Flora chuckles, twisting her lips into an amused grin. "No, not just men. Women, too." She replied, starting to guide them both back to the hall.

Elosie felt something in her stomach give way, like a bridge crumbling on the impact of a tsunami. Something that filled the hollow web that she had created on her own, thinking she would never find someone who could possibly be like her. Someone who is completely different from society and its construction of pillars and custems, a true cactus in a field of flowers.

"And how do you deal with it? Stop yourself, that is." Elosie wanted to know. Wanted to know if she could stop whatever song in her chest rang when her eyes drifted to the lips of her tutor or the eyes of the librarian. She wanted it all to stop or at least kill her.

"Make it stop? If you are thinking of it as something that you could simply dampen with a shot of whisky or a trip to the doctor-." Flora scoffs, shaking her head with slight disappointment. "Than I am sorry to inform you, but you simply can not stop it. Your heart will fall, break, and even mend itself, with or without your consent. It will make choices for you, caring not for the host. It will hurt you and bring you joy, but it will always be your greatest test and challenge. You just have to learn that it's just how life works." She breathes, planting a comforting peck to Eloise's hair.

"Just remember what I said. Love will find you, Ellie, and you will never want to lose it." Flora finished, parting and searching for her brothers, who chat with many ladies of the Ton and their unbearable mamas.

"Eloise, there you are! I was looking everywhere for you." Said a plump red-head, donning a rather bright yellow dress.

She links arms with Eloise, crafting a sour-like twist in Flora's stomach, her eyes glaring at where she held her. She wanted to break the young lady's arm, or perhaps her entire body. But why should she?

There is no purpose to. She simply did not like how this girl stole her spot.

Flora sniffs. "Since you now have company, I best find mine. My papa would not enjoy the idea of the end of my night to be accompanied by a friend and not a Suitor. Good evening, Miss Eloise." Flora departs with haste, visibly jovial with hidden anger underneath her skin.

Elosie reaches out for her, missing by an inch as she and Penalope share a connection of confusion. "Who was that, and why so desperate to part?" Asked Penelope, sipping punch.

"That's my new friend that I've been talking about. She seemed rather happy so she must want to finish her night and go home. Or anxious to meet you." Eloise reassured, feeling Pen's worry.

"Flora?"

Eloise hums in clarification. "Oh, my mama has been talking about her and her brothers for a while. She wants Prudence to sweep the eldest off his feet. " Penalope gags, gliding them both to nearby hallway.

"Brothers?" Funny, Flora never mentioned the attendance of her brothers at tonight's festivities.

Penelope nods, pointing at the tallest and eldest. He was rather handsome with an angular face, straight nose and groomed dark hair, very much like his sisters. But his eyes were not like hers. No, they were round and the most stunning sea green. "That's Alexander Deluca, the next Viscount of the Deluca dynasty. He is one of the more eligible Suitors of the season. He's the man Prudence and many other ladies of the Ton have sworn to." She drew her finger to a slightly shorter man.

He was not as handsome as Alexander but he was an eye-catcher. He had long, almost messy dark hair with a more softer face. His eyes were also rather large with the lashes of a woman: long and stunning. The colors were also green, but like emeralds, fine and dark. Pretty.

"That is Benjamin Deluca, the second eldest. He is currently on the list of Cressida. With what I hear, he is quite the poet and hunter." Said Penelope, finally settling on a rather taller man, taller than the last.

He was a lot slimmer but still rather meaty in some areas. His face was sharp, but his eyes were rather dim. They were heavy and small but attention drawing, for they held a dark purple shade, that's almost close to Flora's. But his short hair was blonde and combed back. He is most definitely the odd sibling, perhaps. Eloise isn't aware of the physical appearance of the rest of her brothers.

"And lastly Christopher, who is the third eldest. He isn't a talker and keeps to himself. But it seems he is Flora's favored brother."

The two watch as the siblings converse, clearly jeering about something they don't like. Perhaps, finding a way out of tonight's festivities.

"Pardon me, Lady Danbury but my sister seems rather unwell. She claims discomfort in her head." Said Christopher, allowing his sister to lean her head on his shoulder, visibly showing an act of ill-health.

"Oh, well that is a shame. You best take her home, Mr Deluca." Said Lady Danbury.

"Thank you Lady Danbury." Flora embraces the older woman, making sure to make a show.

"Now, this better not be a fib to relieve yourself of my ball." She whispers in her ear, making her threat clear. "Of course Lady Danbury. I danced and wooed eligible Suitors. I am just not feeling very well."

The older woman hums suspiciously but lets the two go, unable to convince Flora to stay.

Once in the comforts of her carriage, Flora removes her gloves, revealing scars, that litter her forearm. She itches them, exhaling sharply, feeling her skin crawl, and her body shake. She wanted out or she'll simply burst into flames.

She didn't understand her sudden bitterness towards the plump girl, but she felt it and it made her feel uneasy. She felt as if, she would shatter, and subside to the sourness in her gut or worse. She needed a blade, a relief... Something to dampen this feeling in her chest and gut.

"Get out Christopher. I wish to go home alone." She mutters, barely being audible. "But I don't wan-"

"Go!" She growled, her eyes burning with tears.

He swallows thickly, opening the door to the carriage. "So be it. Don't do anything stupid." He glares at her, giving strict instructions to the driver before taking his leave.

The carriage jerks forward, trotting down the pavement. Flora slides her skirts above her knees, revealing a short tipped blade. Taking the cold metal into her palm, she allows the fabrics to fall, covering her legs and band that once held her blade. She lays back, closing her eyes, in content, trying to keep the tears from falling.

But she opens them again, facing the blade to her wrist, over an old scar and pressing it along her skin, slicing the elegant meat, rather slowly. She hisses as the carriage swerves, guiding the blade to an angle. Her lips wobble a sigh of relief once the first cut is done, opening a gate of blood, pooling over her dress.

Leaning back, she smiles and slices the other wrist open, relishing in the relief.

Just one more cut. Flora promises herself, going in again and again, and again. Until three cuts turn into four and warps into five. She sobs, heaving a heavy breath in her chest, staring up at the ceiling.

Just once more, cut.

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