x Reader (Mature)

15

Waking up naturally and effortlessly, as if you were a princess in a Disney movie without any cares except how smooth and lady-like your every action way, you lifted yourself up on your elbows on your stiff bed that you had grown to loath. The nights were hot and stuffy, and you thought you'd probably find more comfort on the cold wooden floor. 

The large scrape you had on your back from being repeatedly bumped against the penetratingly spiky garden wall probably didn't help your sleeping either. 

Was there ever going to be a night where you woke up fully energised? 

Checking over at the time, you sucked in a sharp breath since it was clear that you were already late for the beginning of the day at the market, and Gianna was almost 100% going to shout at you for it, or at the very least be extremely angry and passive aggressive for the whole day. 

You jumped to your feet, and struggled out of yesterday's underwear, stumbling to the dresser to get out new clothes and throw on your work apron. 

When you turned to face the mirror, pulling your underwear up onto your hips, you stood up straight and stared at the awkwardly standing body staring back at you in your reflection. Your body was something you had often had problems with in your college days; who hadn't? Either starved by the lack of money as a college student, or stuffing down cheap calories until you felt like you were cheap and useless yourself. 

Now all you could see was a glowing bronze body, slimmed with the climate and round in all the places where you had always found it hard to find any curves. But you still felt awkward looking at yourself just then; something had changed in the way you saw yourself. 

Your body didn't make you feel confident anymore. Instead you felt as if it was something disgusting that had be covered, as if you were a sheep among wolves, and needed to cover up your true identity. 

Despite the flashes of your fear from last night appearing in your head, you grasped the side of the dresser for a moment and pushed them away; you were getting incredibly good at pushing unwanted thoughts out of your head, and it was getting increasingly clear to you that it was an unhealthy habit. 

The hand that had grasped your hip. 

The feeling of a hard back trapping you.

The water overflowing in the glass.

Turning away from the mirror with a harsh breath and wide eyes, you shoved a long skirt over your body, and a light but long sleeved top, covering up any skin that was visible, grabbing your work apron into your hand.

Thankfully, you were ready for work within a few minutes, and running down the stairs your thumps on each step were echoed throughout the house. 

Stepping out of the front door you thankfully didn't bump into anyone. Even to see Elena that morning would have been a tipping point to your fragile emotions. You couldn't even think about anything in particular, scared that your train of thought would naturally take you to last night.

You'd never been touched without your consent, but you'd certainly heard stories from friends. It was always late nights, drinks, pills, unknown settings. But you hadn't expected in from Piero. 

 You had to get to work as soon as possible and damage control your employer. You imagined her angrily unloading fruit from her truck, muttering profanities about you under her nose. 

Running, tying your hair up, and navigating between the early-birds of the town, you arrived in front of Gianna's market stall just in time to see her bending over harshly over a crate of apple, as if she was a ruler that had snapped.

"Buongiorno bella." The old lady from the stall to the left of Gianna's smiled at your rushing figure, sweating already from the warmth of the morning and the unexpected exercise. Her already unloaded stall full of freshly baked bread and sweat treats created an amazingly warm smelling aroma on the whole market and you smile and waved back at her, unable to stop yours eyes from rolling over the baked goods.

"Ah, you're here." Gianna groaned spitefully, lifting up the crate of apples, and giving you a salty one-over from the corner of her eye as she hauled the crate onto the table to present to customers. 

"Mi dispiace, non sarò di nuovo in ritardo (I'm sorry, I won't be late again). My alarm didn't wake me." You explained hurriedly, but you found it hard to be sincere with you apology, thinking about how you'd gladly roll back into your rock hard bed and stay there a little longer and regain some more energy. 

Going round the back of the table, you picked up another crate of apples (a different kind), and placed in beside Gianna's crate, standing next to her. 

She was a small lady- many old ladies in the town were, you'd noticed. Even despite your own lack of height, you were quite a bit taller than Gianna, and you looked down at her sideways to gage her response. 

Side-eyeing you as well, you were surprised that she had broken out into a smile instead of frown and merely shook her head. 

"You remind me of myself when I was your age." She muttered in Italian, picking up a crate. 

After your surprise at not having been shouted at like you had certainly expected had weared off, you broke out into a smile and settled comfortably into your work.

The sweet smell of bread circled  you and Gianna soothing the atmosphere nicely. 


_____________________________________________________________________


You had been working for a while. The hairs that were falling out of your ponytail and the small sweat stains on the long sleeved shirt were testament to how exhausted you were, packing heavy paper bags of fruit into baskets and smiling constantly. 

So when you recognised Elena's small frame hobbling over towards the stalls wearing an old-fashioned flowery dress with her hair tucked into a wide brimmed hat, you were glad for a truly familiar face that you didn't feel the need to smile at consistently. 

"Ciao, cara." She hummed, allowing the smell of the pastries to fill her when she reached the front of your stall. 

"Elena, you know I could have brought home some things after work. You didn't need to go out in the heat." Grabbing a paper bag for the oranges that Elena was looking through, you tilted your head to the side caringly and watched over her meticulous methods at finding the perfectly juicy oranges. 

"Don't be silly, I need the sweetest fruit. If you want good orange juice and apple cake then you need only the best of the best." She sang, handing over some exceptionally large oranges over to you, which you slid into the paper bag carefully, and placed them on the weighing scale to check the price.