Måneskin oneshots REQUEST OPEN

A/N : messages

As some of you may know, Wattpad will no longer have any private messages in a few. And I know some of you prefer to submit your requests in private. So I created one specific email to stay in touch with the ones who don't want to comment their request. Feel free to send a message !

noralia20wattpad@gmail.com

And since you were courageous enough to read this, plus I haven't ebben very active). I can't leave you without a small treat: the beginning if my next little story~

Being a student wasn't too tough, especially when you adored what you were studying. As a French student specializing in pathology, it always raised a few eyebrows when you introduced yourself as someone fixated on uncovering the stories of the deceased. But for you, it was a passion, especially when it involved unraveling the mysteries behind crimes. You had a unique background; born in Florencia, you were half French and half Italian. Shortly after your birth, your mother persuaded your father to relocate to Paris, where her family resided. Despite the emotional strain it placed on your father to leave his homeland, he agreed, and thus, you grew up as a French girl with a sprinkle of Italian influence, thanks to your father's heritage. Summers were spent in Italy, soaking up the culture and basking in the warmth of your Italian roots.Lately, however, you found yourself succumbing to a creeping sense of burnout, a consequence of pushing yourself too hard. Recognizing the signs, your parents intervened and decided it was time for a change of scenery. Reluctantly, you accepted their decision, grumbling all the way, but secretly acknowledging the necessity of a break.So, with a mix of protest and resignation, you boarded a plane in Paris bound for Rome, where your sweet grandmother awaited. Despite your initial resistance, deep down, you knew that this trip held the promise of much-needed rejuvenation and a chance to reconnect with your Italian heritage.

As you scanned the bustling crowd of people eagerly awaiting their loved ones at the gates, your heart quickened with anticipation. Amidst the sea of faces, you finally spotted her, your grandmother, her hand waving above the throng as she pushed through the crowd, calling out your name in that unmistakable Italian tone that echoed with memories of your father. It had been five long years since you last saw her, the summers of your youth now overshadowed by the demands of your studies. You navigated your way through the crowd, dragging your luggage behind you, and soon found yourself enveloped in her warm embrace. Beside her stood one of your dad's cousins, ready to assist with your luggage. With a smile, he took your bags, and your grandmother immediately took your hand, leading you through the bustling airport towards her car.There it was, the familiar sight of her sweet little red car, a relic from your childhood that had somehow defied the odds and continued to run. You chuckled to yourself, thinking that surely by now the old motor would have given out, but it seemed to possess a stubborn resilience, much like your grandmother herself.Together, you all climbed into the car, settling into the well-worn seats as your grandmother embarked on a flurry of questions, each one delivered in rapid-fire Italian. Gratefully, you responded, slipping effortlessly back into the rhythms of the language, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you as you embarked on the journey towards your grandmother's house.

Stepping out of the car, you took a moment to absorb the familiar sights and sounds of your grandmother's neighborhood. The air was filled with the gentle hum of life, the scent of Italian cuisine wafting from nearby kitchens, and the soft chatter of neighbors exchanging pleasantries. It was as if time stood still in this quaint corner of Rome, untouched by the passage of years.Your grandmother tossed you the keys with a knowing smile, urging her nephew to hasten with your luggage. With a grateful nod, you caught the keys and made your way towards the small house that held so many memories. It stood as a testament to your grandmother's resilience and love, where she had raised not only her own children but also helped shape the lives of her grandchildren.Entering the cozy abode, you were greeted by the familiar sights and smells of home. The walls seemed to echo with the laughter of generations past, the worn furniture bearing witness to countless family gatherings and shared meals. This was the place where your father had grown up, where your own roots were firmly planted in the rich soil of family tradition and love.

Ascending the stairs to what used to be the girls' room but was now your vacation sanctuary, you couldn't help but notice how much smaller it seemed now. The bed, though old and well-used, still exuded a comforting coziness that beckoned you to rest. Your eyes wandered to the photos adorning the walls, each one a precious memento of summers spent in the embrace of family and tradition.

A dress lay delicately atop the bed, accompanied by a note from your grandmother. "Spero che sia la tua taglia," it read. You couldn't help but smile at her straightforwardness. The dress, a beautiful floral creation, seemed to beckon to you, offering a reprieve from the mundanity of your current attire. With a quick shower, you slipped into the garment, marveling at how perfectly it fit as if it were tailor-made for you. The fabric flowed around you with effortless grace, just as you liked it.Admiring your reflection in the mirror, you couldn't help but marvel at your grandmother's intuition. How had she known the exact size to choose? Lost in thought, you were startled by her voice calling you downstairs to greet some of her sisters.Descending the stairs, you found yourself enveloped in a whirlwind of Italian hospitality, as cousins and uncles filled every corner of the house. From the kitchen to the living room, the dining room to the garden, the air buzzed with animated conversations and laughter, reminiscent of the familial warmth you had grown accustomed to in France.Embracing each of your relatives in turn, you found yourself slipping effortlessly back into the rhythms of Italian conversation, your language skills returning with each passing moment.

As your grandmother managed to usher out the last of the visiting relatives with her characteristic determination, you both finally found a moment of solitude. Taking a sip of water to quench your thirst, she broached the idea of taking a stroll through the city before the sun set."Vuoi fare un giro per la città prima che tramonti il sole? Ho alcuni posti da mostrarti," she proposed, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. The idea of exploring Rome with her filled you with excitement, and you readily agreed.Quickly slipping on a pair of shoes, you followed her lead as you ventured out into the bustling streets of Rome. It felt like a journey back in time as she guided you to places you had frequented as a child, from the serene park where you had played to the majestic fountain where you had made countless wishes.Your eyes lit up with delight when you spotted a vendor selling gelato, and before you could protest, your grandmother was already making her way towards the tempting display. "Prendiamone un po'," she declared with a mischievous twinkle in her eye."Nonna! Non è necessario..." you began to protest, but she silenced you with a wave of her hand. "Silenzio, voglio anch'io il gelato," she insisted, her infectious energy contagious as she stood there, undeterred by any protestations.You couldn't help but smile at her antics, marveling at her unwavering spirit and zest for life. Despite the passage of time, she remained a beacon of strength and vitality, a reminder of the enduring bonds of family and the joy found in the simple pleasures of life.

An unexpected collision jolted you out of your reverie, and as you turned to voice your protest, you found yourself face to face with a stranger. Taller than you, with long sandy blond hair that cascaded around his tired blue eyes, he cut an enigmatic figure against the backdrop of the bustling street. Dressed in black despite the sweltering heat, he seemed out of place, an anomaly amidst the vibrant colors of Rome.His gaze briefly met yours, sending a shiver down your spine before he uttered a simple "scusi" and continued on his way, leaving you standing there, momentarily stunned. As he disappeared into the nearby alley, a cold chill lingered in the air, and you realized you had been holding your breath without even realizing it.Glancing back at the alley where he had vanished, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of your stomach. Who was he, and why did his presence leave such a lingering sense of disquiet?

Shaking your head to dispel the lingering unease, you turned back to your grandmother, who had paused to wait for you.

...

Love you all !