forgive but never forget

@fleurypru

53 posts

𝐩𝐫𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐲 — 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵, 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴.

BETRAYAL. IT COMES FROM THOSE YOU TRUST THE MOST.

JODIE COMER as VILLANELLE KILLING EVE | S02E03, The Hungry Caterpillar

#polaroid capture.#love her so bad

✧ ˚ · . 𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗 for ( 3/4 ) characters; @coyotestarters

location ⎯⎯ the ugly mug.

time ⎯⎯ early morning.

Lucia had been on her feet for sixteen hours, and it showed. She had entered the cafe with a glazed expression and the kind of limp that only nurses and bartenders earned honestly. Her ponytail was half way out of its tie, the sleeves of her scrubs pushed up haphazardly, and there was a smudge of something—coffee or pen ink—on her jaw. She hardly remembered giving her name at the counter. The barista handed over a to-go cup marked Lucy. She stared at it blankly for a moment, then gave a tired huff of amusement. ❝ Close enough, ❞ she muttered lowly to herself, sinking into the nearest seat just moments later like the chair had personally invited her. Cradling the cup in both hands, she let her head fall back against the wall. ❝ If anyone asks me for anything else today, I swear I'll cry, ❞ she said aloud, not looking around to see if anyone nearby was listening. ❝ Unless it's a donut. Then maybe I'll reconsider. ❞

pru nursed the black coffee she'd stubbornly ordered out of a streak of impatience after seeing the morning line at the shop. she hated it, but she refused to waste the whole two dollars she'd spent to skip the line for her caffeine fix. a brow popped up towards the ceiling when another joined her, the woman's words as exhausting as her voice carried them. "what about bagel?" she lazily looked over towards the other with a small grin, exhaustion written over her own features. "i mean, i don't have one. yet. but i will," she added, her gaze drifting towards the line that had already dropped in size. "and i'll share. if you want."

#lightningink #if this is full please feel free to ignore!!#interaction — lucia ramirez..

Oliver chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he watched her try to defend her concoction. It was endearing, really, and Oliver was happy to entertain it if it brought a genuine smile to her face. Especially as how the lightness in her laugh gave way to something heavier. He nodded in a silence, accepting of her quiet plea, "Okay," he said just as quietly, respecting the boundary she set without making her feel the need to defend it like she had her sweet and spicy wine. "I won't." The look in his eyes made it evident he was telling the truth, a window to his soul as he spoke in honesty, also displaying the worry he'd felt for her. But if nothing else, he'd continue to provide her the amusement of being the taste tester, though deeper down he wished he could do more. His fingers tapped the glass in a slow rhythm he made up on the spot, still not yet allowing the liquid to pass the threshold of his lips before some clarification. "And... I really don’t think your drinks are bad. Even the... ones I didn't like." He laughs, bringing the playful tone back with the cue of her smile. He softens in a way that tells her she doesn't have to thank him. "They’re ambitious.” He grinned back, inching the glass closer until he took the very first sip.

oliver had given her more patience than she knew she deserved, but she didn't question it and she didn't push back like she'd always managed to do with something good. "thanks," she countered with a small grin and in a soft look in her hazel hues that spoke volumes to the appreciation she felt for him. even if his teasing and playful taunts always stirred something within her, it was kinder than anything she had ever known with her own family.

"no, some of them are terrible," she assured through a hum of laughter. she'd tried them, she knew firsthand how bad they were. "but thank you." as he took a drink from his glass, she did the same, thankful that she'd passed on the sweet heat mix that others had raved of. after a beat, she spoke again. "i'm thinking about leaving the casino."

it was an easier topic than the one that lingered on her mind. the one that would have only encouraged oliver to toss his drink at the vertically gifted man that was bound to be somewhere near. "i'm tired of the suits and the relentless flirting and the bad tips when i don't buy into it."

#wiltedflwer #interaction — oliver emery.

xmarlboronights

When Prudence leaned in naturally, instinctively following suit Britt wondered if she'd noticed the way she swallowed. Like she was restraining something. Perhaps she was—herself. As attracted as the blonde found herself to be to her counterpart she also never wanted to be an opportunist, someone that took advantage of another down on their luck. Luckily Britt was able to busy herself making another drink for Pru and had her chin slightly tucked to focus like she never really had to anymore. She breathed out a quiet sigh and then rubbed her lips together. Moments later delivering a fresh drink.

❝ ⸻ If there's any place to be honest I've learned it's not at a confessional, or in the psych doc's chair. ❞ With a bit a smirk she tapped the bartop with her index finger. ❝ It's the bar. The only place with the cheapest truth lubrication and we don't ask you to do penance or work on yourself. We just hear you out and maybe tell you about someone we heard that's got it a little worse. ❞

Hearing a shade of pride in someone else's voice moved her a bit so the blonde set to making her hands busy and distracting herself. With life having turned upside down when she'd been nine years old, there was no one really there to tell her good job or that they were proud of her. The relationship with her mother had become so strained as the weight of the past opened up the ground between them. Britt couldn't remember the last time her mother cheered her on, if anything there were guilt trips for the way she actually made some headway in her life and accomplished some things.

❝ I'm not sure, ❞ she answered honestly with a lazy shrug, ❝ there's more school. There's clinical rotations. But I'm satisfied here. I know it's no one's dream job, I've just always liked the work. ❞ In a way she'd even taken a big step up becoming manager of The Siren. One of the most popular bar and restaurants in town. Britt had even been there longer than Max. ❝ I've been told I'm that chick that needs a push out of the nest, ❞ to which she smirked at, ❝ I don't know. ❞

Things seemed to change rapidly at the mention of someone asking about Prudence, and with her brow raised she took a step back in surprise. ❝ Umm—he was very tall. Smelled nice, was well put together, had a light beard. ❞ Britt shrugged. ❝ Is everything okay? ❞ There was a pause only because she had to think back to the little conversation the serious man spared. ❝ Just asked if you came in here often and if you usually had company. I wouldn't tell him anything, ❞ Britt assured. ❝ So, he left a Franklin without ordering or drinking anything and left. ❞

pru admired the way the blonde moved behind the bar, her movements all done with ease and the kind of fluidity that most people never achieved. she nipped softly at her bottom lip, the rest of the bar fading away around them. it was funny how much noise could disappear if there was something worth her attention on other end.

a low chuckle ghosted off her lips as she nodded. it wasn't something she would've understood before being on the other side of the bar, but after one too many confessionals from casino goers who'd blown through their budget and then some, she'd gotten it. "i'd love to compare stories sometime," she half-teased with raised brows. a part of her needed to talk about what had happened with x, another part of her just wanted to know that others had it worse. "you're not wrong. it's oddly the most entertaining part about the job." if only it cancelled out the creeps who thought her duties and responsibilities carried up to their hotel rooms for the evening.

the blonde's fingers tapped at the side of her glass as she listened, no trace of her father's voice to be found within her head. he'd always told her that she fumbled too much or needed to sit still. his voice had haunted her for nearly thirty-four years, but in the bar, with britt, she'd found a semblance of quiet, of peace. "if you need to be pushed," she trailed off, smile widening as if it were an offer to do so and if she did, well, pru would do the pushing. "just because you're satisfied here doesn't mean you can't chase what you really want. sure, you like it and it's comfortable... but if we're talking about your dream..." she drew out, head lulling to the side as she took in the view of the bartender.

the smile that had been put there by britt had quickly faded. she'd tried her best to hide it, to contain the frustration on her features, but apparently she'd failed in the end. tall, smelled nice, put together. a laugh escaped her mouth and pru lifted a hand to cover her lips, fearful of what would come next. after a beat, she dropped it and shook her head slowly, tears pricking at her hazel orbs. "ex-husband," she mouthed as she nodded slowly, as if accepting that a round of defeat. she'd been foolish enough to think that things could be on her terms, that she'd have any control over their exchanges. "he's such an asshole."

pru downed the drink that had been made for her in one large gulp. she welcomed the burn of the liquor as it pooled in her stomach and weaved it's blur into her veins to ease the anger. "thanks. for not telling him anything."

#xmarlboronights #interaction — britt buchanan.

xmarlboronights

❝ ⸻ Already? ❞ There was a slight lift to an eyebrow, a side of his mouth shifted upward—a clear display of amusement at her frustration. People were so interesting with their emotions so ready and vulnerable on the surface. ❝ Haven't been properly satisfied since I've left? ❞ While X may have been teasing and taunting his beautiful ex-wife, her answer could have devastating results for someone's parents. ❝ Or maybe you've been keeping your affinity for hate sex a secret all this time. Shame on you, ❞ the scold was accompanied with a wink.

The reason he wanted her closer, in the same room and preferrably next to him, wasn't so he could read her expressions. X had learned the blonde well enough he knew her moods just by the slightest differences in her voice. It was to look at her. To admire her stunning beauty that had made his work all the more—pleasurable. ❝ You think I stopped keeping tabs on you just because we're no longer married? ❞ Her question was answered with one of his own. By now she'd learned, at least in part, what kind of man she'd been married to. ❝ How's the casino? ❞ Yet another display of his reach, all while he casually looked at his phone.

When she finally entered the room X clocked her movements like any stealth apex predator would. Prudence may have looked tired, as though she'd tied one or two on too many times, she was still the only person that pulled any kind of reaction out of him. With his ex-wife framed in his view the spark in his dangerous eyes returned, and his jaw relaxed to the point where, if she looked hard enough, the faintest smile could be discerned on his lips. He'd always thought of her as exquisite. A prize upon the empire. Her resistance had been expected, she was stubborn, and people were far too stuck in the emotional side of themselves to function cleanly. When she sat, his phone was slipped back into his pocket, and Xavier leaned his long body across the coffee table and gripped a leg of the chair she'd petulantly sat herself in—then dragged her closer. He may have let the coffeetable remain between them for now, Prudence was finally right in front of him again. ❝ You smell like cheap liquor and stale cigarettes. I should have you shower— ❞

Between her question and his phone notifying of another message he never finished where that statement was leading. Though he'd pictured having to haul her onto his shoulder and carry her to the bathroom himself. ❝ I missed you. ❞ Zero inflections in his tone, eyes unexpressive aside from the spark she put into them, there was no warmth to the statement. Before he'd faked it, been the loving and doting suitor. Things were different now. This would be a test if she could handle and stomach the real Xavier Zakaria. The words were genuine.

The woman had created space next to him, filled a void that he'd never known to pour into, and now was permanently affected by it. He still was who he was, and he may be a beast whose fate will be sealed by beauty, but after he'd felt something for the only time in his life there was never any permanent walking away. There was always a plan. ❝ How's the family? ❞

her venom soaked tongue lifted with the intention of taking the bait, but she bit down harshly on her bottom lip instead, holding the tight grip until the need simmered to something she could control. he didn't get to come into her place and rattle her like it was a game. he'd already won whatever it was they'd been playing and coming back for another round was just... greedy. "i've been plenty satisfied." she said it with so much conviction that she almost believed it. when in truth, she hadn't even as much as thought about another's hands on her, let alone did it.

she choked down the bubble of surprise that gathered in her throat. of course he knew about the casino, knew about her being in southside in an apartment that clearly needed better locks. "why?" she didn't hesitate, didn't let her temper flare in the way she knew he wanted. instead, she forced a bitter laugh to echo off her lips, a weightless show of humor. "i like it. the suits tip good." some of them did, most of them didn't. either way, she made enough to get by on and that was enough.

ignoring his eyes on her was the biggest challenge she'd faced yet. she could feel him, the way he trailed over every inch of her frame like he was looking for a sign of change or some tell that he could use to his advantage. a quiet hum of surprise rolled off her lips as he tugged the chair closer, the sound of the wood on wood barely registering over the sound of her thrumming heart beneath her ribs.

his cologne hit her hard, unforgiving and uncaring of the emotions it thundered through her. "you don't get to bark an order at me," she scoffed, her voice hoarse from the long day behind the bar. the blonde caught his gaze and held it, as if the exchange was further support of the words she'd just uttered.

those three words were something every person wanted to hear. and yet, rolling off his tongue, they seemed more like a chore off a checklist. there was something mild in his gaze that said otherwise though, something that made her heart thud a little harder and not out of anger this time. "don't say things you don't mean. you don't have to do that anymore." it was spoken softer and she held his gaze as the same words danced on her tongue. she wouldn't say them.

pru leaned back in the chair, his question striking a chord of anger all over again. it hadn't taken long and quite frankly, she should've thanked him. "i think they're pissed," she exhaled, voice thick with sarcasm and a certain level of detachment that said more than her words had. "my father doesn't speak to me and if my brothers do, they remind me of how stupid i was."

#xmarlboronights #interaction — xavier zakaria.

xmarlboronights

A sharp, intent, serpent-like glower followed the man in retreat as his ex-wife mentioned something about worry. That same darkness shifted down to meet the hazel of the woman he'd given his name to. In a blink the danger cleared, yet if she'd caught the flash then she'd spied the monster that had always been so carefully restrained. ❝ ⸻ Don't be foolish, ❞ Xavier said dismissively.

The moment her eyes dropped and X was gifted with the sight of the crown of her head, curiosity sparked. His finger curled and pushed up under Pru's chin, an action made to force his ex-wife to look at him. ❝ Humor me—what is your type? ❞ Ocean eyes were empty, void of any emotion or life as he peered into her.

There was only one reason Prudence would never be able to replace him. X wouldn't allow it. Unless he somehow magically got bored of her and moved on to what sparked his interest next. That was highly unlikely, though. She'd done something no one else had ever really accomplished, she'd sparked some feeling in him. Now she'd never get rid of him. ❝ How badly do you need to get drunk right now? ❞

she wanted to push, wanted to be everything that she knew bothered him and that was a cause of annoyance at herself. why did she care? why did she even bother with the effort when he'd left her like she meant nothing? "right. so you don't care that i'm seeing someone?" it was bullshit, but she watched the corners of his mouth anyway, as if trying to prove herself right.

his question triggered a roll of her eyes. she didn't even know her type, didn't trust herself to figure it out either. he'd been her type and look where that had gotten her in life. "i'm still figuring that out. the last time i thought i knew, i got it wrong." she didn't back down from his gaze, didn't blink as she spoke the brutal truth that she already knew wouldn't land the way she wanted. after all, why would it?

pru's tongue swiped at the corner of her mouth, the faint taste of wine still settled there from her earlier drinks. she hated how he used the word need rather than want, as if he knew how difficult this was for her. then again, it was probably arrogance that led the assumption rather than concern. "i could use a drink. are you offering or just trying to gauge where i am right now?"

#xmarlboronights #interaction — xavier zakaria.

"We're gonna have to disagree," Dante said easily, nothing sharp or defensive in his tone. "If nothing else, games like poker and chess will teach you who's a liar. Everyone has a tell... some are just harder to figure out than others." The words were by a man that had been fooled, had been on the receiving end of betrayal, of someone that hadn't realized he'd been played until it was too late. Those experiences always burned, but the ones closest to home incinerated.

"Why's that?" Curiosity flinched at his brow, Dante was picking up on something... he just wasn't sure what yet. "You weren't too bad at poker. Just have to learn about your expressions and body language. People that play these games are masters at reading the slightest insight. Most either shield their eyes," Dante hardly gestured to the two at the table that had sunglasses on, the non-reflective type, "or avert your gaze from full eye contact. Only sociopaths can look you dead in the eyes and you not get a read on them." Which, they were often incredible at these games.

With a smile and slightly slow blinking eyes, Dante asked, with a bit of humor, "so, you never played Battleship as a kid?"

At the blonde's entry into another game, he chipped in and lifted his fingers to call a waitress. "Scotch, please," then he gestured to the blonde, "would you like anything? On me." He gave her time to make an order and smiled and nodded at the parting waitress. "I do play chess. Not often as I like cards better. I'm not a huge gambler overall. Why... wanna play sometime?"

"i just assume that everyone is." she gave a soft smile, one that left even her wondering if she were joking or not. it was easier to think that everyone on the other side of her was only looking out for themselves. after all, she'd let someone in and the one person who wasn't supposed to lie had spun so much dishonesty that she wasn't certain what was and what wasn't real.

after a beat, pru shrugged. "because i don't have a lot that i can afford to lose." she had good days at the table and much like tonight, she had bad days too and those were enough to scare her away from bigger bids. "i just play because i want to after shift. sometimes it helps me keep this quiet." as she spoke, she tapped at her temple, the confession too real to be sharing with a man she didn't know in a place that wasn't meant for sharing heavy truths.

she wondered, for a beat, if that's what x was. how had he looked her in the eyes and told her that he loved her? how had he made her feel so many things, only to leave her like she'd meant nothing? she pushed the thought to the back of her mind and captured the ocean blues to her side. "my brothers didn't let me play that one with them. they hated losing," she countered with the flick of her brows.

the offer, weightless and without expectation of something in return, left her muttering off an order. vodka. on the rocks. "thanks." and she meant it. a hum of laughter rolled off her tongue at his question. teasing or not, she shrugged. "do you have the patience to teach me?"

#sierrasonnets #interaction — dante dahlin.

“sunflowers,” iris echoed, the corners of her mouth curving like the word settled right against her. “big, bold, hard to wrangle — yeah, that makes sense.” she didn’t mean it as a dig. if anything, there was something fond in the way she said it, like maybe she understood the appeal of something that didn’t make it easy. her gaze flicked toward pru again, softer now, like she was piecing together a puzzle no one had asked her to solve. “the kind of flower that doesn’t try to be delicate. just shows up loud and golden and unapologetic.” she swirled what was left of her wine in the glass, not out of nervousness, just something to do with her hands. “you don’t choose sunflowers unless you’re stubborn. or hopeful. sometimes both.” she didn’t pretend to know pru’s story. couldn’t know what it felt like to build something and lose it before it had time to bloom. but there was something about the way pru spoke — like she was still holding pieces of it, even if it hurt to — that tugged at something familiar in iris’s chest. she shifted her weight, thumb smoothing along the stem of her glass. “we had a lot of them at foothills. sunflowers. not really practical for arrangements, but my dad used to keep a bunch by the window, said they reminded him to open the damn curtains.” the corner of her mouth twitched, half a smile. “he hated mornings. couldn’t stand the light. but every week, there they were.” a pause. not heavy, but full. “he passed recently.” she said it plainly, but the words still landed with weight. not freshly raw, but still a little sharp at the edges. “left the shop to mags. i didn’t really expect to come back anytime soon. but here i am.” her eyes flicked to the festival around them, like the noise might somehow fill the space left by the truth. she didn’t offer more — not right away. just let her wine settle between them and leaned back against the edge of the planter beside her, steady in the quiet that followed. “you would’ve been good there,” iris added, glancing at pru again, this time with something a little warmer. not sympathy. not even reassurance. just a simple, certain truth. “i’d have liked working with someone who knew how to fight with flowers.” she let the hum of the music and voices swell around them before adding, lightly — but not without meaning — “if you ever change your mind... i know a place.” and she didn’t push it after that. just lifted her glass again, sunlight catching on the rim, and let the moment sit between them like something still deciding what it wanted to be.

an unfiltered smile spread on her mouth. it was the most beautiful way she'd ever heard someone talk about a flower that people only cared about on occasion. it was a reminder of herself, a look into who she was as a person. she wasn't an easy person to love, wasn't an easy friend to have some days. she was stubborn and liked to push the boundaries of people to see if they'd stick around. some did, some didn't. she was a handful in a mess of blonde waves and dimpled cheeks. and in that moment, she felt like someone saw her.

"that's why i love them." other florists could shy away from a real challenge like that, but pru? she liked working around the conventional look of bouquets, liked to offer options that couldn't be plucked from options at the grocery store. "i could never keep them stocked." just when she put out bundles of new arrangements, someone was always there buying them up or asking when she'd have more ready.

a sad smile spread on her mouth as if the memories were some of her own. part of it was her silent desire to rewrite history, part of it was that she'd longed for a father who cracked jokes meant for her. "i'm so sorry to hear that." and she meant it, felt it too. far more than she would if the news of her own father's passing hit her. "i think it's nice that you came back. are you staying?" she wanted to reach out, to give a gentle squeeze of encouragement to the stranger, but she kept her hands anchored at her sides.

the compliment landed hard and pru nodded as a means of saying thanks. if her heart and pride would have allowed it, she would've loved it too. "that's the one thing i'm good at." the comment, meant to be joking, sounded sadder coming off her tongue than it did in her head. she supposed it had everything to do with the way she heard her brothers cold comments and her father's agreement to them. she wasn't good for a lot, but flowers... she was good with flowers.

"i'll let you know if i do." and she meant it. she just didn't know if changing her mind was an option.

#ruinedxreverie #interaction — iris winslow.#tw loss #tw grief

there's a groan, an exasperated "right?", and a small chuckle that follows. brianna had gotten better with remembering deadlines as the years went by, though subscription services had helped immensely. blockbuster would have been a menace on her bank account. "sergio's is great! they've been around forever, they're very nice- like, on it with service and they remember the regulars," she starts, thinking back to when she first ate there, too. she almost cried over the tacos al pastor. "and i swear, they have actual abuelitas in the kitchen making fresh tortillas all day."

"are you a regular?" she was teasing, mostly, but curious all the same. she hated that she wanted to know what it was like to be a regular in a town she'd barely settled into yet. what she hated more was that she wondered if x was a regular. "so, we're going, right?" she looked to the other, a smile on her mouth, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. thankfully, the coiled tension in her chest did little to snuff out the hunger that churned deep in her stomach. "best thing on the menu?"

#petricheart #interaction — brianna delaney.

the music behind them dipped into something slower, strings climbing into a soft crescendo that stirred the air just enough to feel cinematic. maybe it was the wine, or the way pru said i owned my own shop — like it still hurt, but she was proud anyway — that made iris linger a little longer before responding. “then it must’ve been a damn good one,” she said, not like a compliment, but a truth. something solid to hand over. she leaned her weight slightly into her right leg, angling herself more fully toward pru now, expression easy but attentive. “the way you talk about it… sounds like you put your whole heart into it.” her gaze drifted again, this time not toward the flowers, but the people walking past them — kids with painted faces, a couple arguing softly under a tree, someone cradling a cheese plate like it was treasure. life happening in layers. “losing something like that?” she shrugged one shoulder, the motion casual, but there was something flickering behind her eyes. “that leaves a bruise. even if nobody else can see it.” iris took a sip of her wine, letting the silence stretch again, unhurried. her voice was a little quieter when it came next, but still steady. “what kind of flowers did you love working with the most?” a gentle opening. not a pivot — just a way to keep talking, if pru wanted to.

the space itself had been a gift — an apology without words ever being spoken. it was her father's way of saying that he'd heard her, that he understood. it was his way of making up for all that he'd missed in the easiest way possible. she'd taken an empty space and she'd made the most of it, had put her heart and soul and his funds into a space was that all hers. "i did. i put everything into it," she admitted with a shaky breath and soft smile. so much so that losing it had nearly broken her. it was a reminder that once more, nothing had ever truly been hers. the idea, the work, but it was all tied to her father and the loss? that was tied to her.

"i wanted to work at a shop when i moved here, but..." she trailed off, a nervous bubble of laughter clawing from her chest. she'd made it as far as the front of the shop before she turned around and landed in the first place that she could grab a drink. "sunflowers were my favorite." they were more of a challenge to work with, but she'd never been one to back down from such a thing. "they were total pains to put into arrangements, but they're pretty."

#ruinedxreverie #interaction — iris winslow.

She could remember a time where fifty dollars wasn't anything to laugh at. Where she'd kill to have that in her bank account to pay her rent or put gas in her car. But things had changed. Fifty dollars was nothing she would bat an eye out now that she had more money in her bank account than she could have ever imagined, or needed, frankly. "Only fifty dollars? You can turn that into three hundred if you've got the right luck and cards on your side."

Of course it wouldn't keep up with the big shot people because they often required a large sum to start off a bet but she could make a lot more than that at a table of this size. "Stick around and maybe my luck will rub off on you." While Safiye wasn't known to be generous, she could still understand what it was like to have a few hundred dollars to her name and if she did help out the blonde, then she could ask a favor of her own in the future.

"I would rather play at that table." She pointed a manicured finger towards a table surrounded by older, wealthier women. Likely avoided by men because they figured they weren't real competition but she could pick out some professionals when she saw them. "They probably have their husbands wealth and no where else to spend it. Maybe we should join them. They seem fun."

"only fifty dollars," she echoed, the other woman's encouragement causing her smile to stretch a little wider at the corner of her mouth. luck had been in her favor in all the times she'd opted to hit the tables after a long shift. she'd turned less into more with nothing but fun in mind, but she'd lost every dime too. "i won kind of big a few nights ago. i started with twenty-five dollars. this guy... he kept bidding blindly because he wanted my number. he wasn't very lucky on either end." pru, however, had walked away with nearly five hundred dollars and a bit of her pride resorted.

"if it's good luck, sure." she'd had enough bad luck, at least that was how she'd viewed it while the men in her family had a different take on the situation. to them, it had nothing to do with luck and everything to do with being too naive.

when the raven haired beauty spoke and pointed towards another table, prudence followed, a quiet exhale forced between her lips as her eyes landed on a table she would've loved too. a table that would've felt like home to a woman who didn't know the true value of a dollar. now, she couldn't imagine having a seat at the table. "i'm not in a rush to get anywhere. i don't think i have their buy-in kind of money, but i'd love to watch if you're serious," she offered, too intrigued by the idea to walk away.

#interaction — safiye buruk.#safiyeburuk

⸻ It was a lovely day, and she felt the urge to enjoy a good wine — so why would she miss the festival in town? She might not only meet new people but also other artists — who knows, maybe even plan an exhibition at the North Star House. It seemed that half the town had the same idea as her.

She ordered a cheese platter and a glass of wine, but every table was full. That’s when she noticed another blonde woman seated alone. ❛ Do you mind if I join you? ❜ she asked with a polite smile. ❛ The rest of the seats are taken. ❜

@prudencefleury

a text sat on her screen with xavier's name at the top. it no longer displayed the heart emoji and the nickname she'd had for him, but it still held more weight than she cared to admit. her thumb hovered over carefully over the send button, but she clicked the lock button the side the moment another voice's cut through her silent contemplation.

"yeah, sure," she hummed, only having caught the woman's final words, but she was able to piece together the question anyway. "are these festivals always so busy? it's my first time."

#anoukmeijer #interaction — anouk meijer.

Oliver hesitated with the wine glass in his hand, staring at it like it might hiss at him if his mouth got too close to the rim. “Chocolate and jalapeño,” he muttered under his breath, a laugh escaping somewhere in between as she gave him a trade off. “Why does this feel like the kind of thing that gets you put on a government watchlist?” When Pru spoke up again, he softened into something quieter. The jokes cut short. The lightness in his expression faded some and his fingers curled tighter around the base of the glass, met with questions he tried to fight off. He didn’t press, not when Pru didn't want to speak of it... but he couldn't keep himself from feeling, the concern behind his eyes spoke louder than anything he could’ve said. “I won’t push." The words came after a moment, eyes scanning her face like he was trying to study her like one of his stories, but the deep rooted worry stuck out more than he could hide. “Just know if I ever see that guy, this wine is going some place it shouldn't. I’ll weaponize it. Jalapeño juice in the eye sort of plan." He reached across the table for another glass, poured some of his helping into it and gently clinked his against hers. “To you, for managing to successfully keep dragging me into bartending purgatory. And for being brave, and... well, here."

she couldn't stifle the laughter that rolled off her tongue and into the air between them. it was rare that she could in his company, even when she felt so coiled tight that some days she wondered how she'd make it through without breaking. "think so? it could be good, right? people love spicy and sweet." or maybe it was salty and sweet? either way, she looked at the man with a hopeful sparkle in her ocean blues. if he tried it, she wouldn't have to.

as easily as things had lightened, the mention of her ex-husband had triggered a storm cloud above the both of them, one that she couldn't hide from behind humor and quiet laughter. pru lifted her shoulders slightly, her chin tipping upwards as if her mother was coaching her to keep her head up in the face of defeat, only for the anger in her father's voice to echo in her head, a reminder that she'd caused it all. "or we could maybe not do that," she pleaded quietly, a mix of appreciation and fear working through her veins. not for herself, but for the kind man who sat across from her, gentle and accepting of everything that was prudence fleury.

"not all of my drinks are bad," she challenged, nimble fingers curling around the stem of her glass to steady the tremble in her hands. "thanks, ollie... for all that you've done so far... and for still trusting me with new drinks after the last one," she trailed off, her smile stretching wider again.

#interaction — oliver emery.#wiltedflwer

"If the confidence was too good then maybe... it wasn't false?" The only reason Dante countered was he considered this a conversation rather than a challenge. It wouldn't have come off like a question and would rather have been more of a statement of opinion.

Or it could've just been him and his experiences. Dante had grown up in the world of snakes. At his father's tutelage and example he'd learned the tells and how to spot the devils in fellow businessmen. Though, personally, he had trouble spotting a liar close to home.

"Do you know anyone that plays chess?" His question came as he collected his winnings, it was going out on a limb that the beautiful blonde herself didn't play. To him, poker and chess were the same type just different fonts. "They're cerebral games. It's about out witting, out playing, out strategizing..."

The chips were stacked back up as they barely chatted, his crystal blue eyes studying her a bit. "Those that play for money often make too many mistakes," he shrugged a little, "I play to outsmart everyone at the table. Interested in another game?"

"maybe. or maybe they're just that good at pretending." she'd had her fair share of practice in doing so. pretending that her father's disinterest in her entire life hadn't stung, pretending that her older brothers didn't cause more harm than good, pretending that she didn't still love the man who'd nearly ruined her. life was all about pretending and only those who were at it made it very far.

his question caused her brows to pinch, barely, but the intrigue mixed with confusion was still there. "i don't think so." her family wasn't the chessboard type, but they knew all about games and how to play them. at least, they'd thought so before xavier came in and ripped everything away from right beneath their noses. she knew losing it all stung, but it was their pride that hurt the most. "good thing there's not a chessboard between us."

she didn't play with strategy, didn't care about wit or getting very far with her chips. it was a game, one she played for fun, win or lose. and this time, she'd lost. "which is why i don't play for much." she'd already done that, put herself on the line and lost it all for more than just herself. "feels like a test," she exhaled, partly in defeat, the other part wavering on interest.

after a beat, the blonde pushed a couple of chips towards the dealer and tipped her chin upwards, approval for another round. "so, do you actually play chess?"

#sierrasonnets #interaction — dante dahlin.

xmarlboronights

𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬𝑫 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹 : 𝒑𝒓𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒚

»» ⸻ saturday evening at the art & wine festival

»» ⸻ with @prudencefleury !

Despite his height or becoming something of a known figure in the small town with owning the resort and buying up land and commercial properties, Xavier moved through the crowds in an eerily similar way to a lio stalking it's prey through the brush. He moved about unseen while sharp and intense eyes remained fixed on the woman that would remain forever his no matter what any paperwork could say.

There was a tether between them that even X felt. The text he'd received from his ex-wife was further proof of their undeniable connection, even with how angry she had to be with him, maybe even devastated at the level of betrayal he'd not just inflicted upon her, Prudence wanted to see him. That was something he would make happen, it just wouldn't come with a warning of where or when. He wanted to see a bit how she operated as a woman that didn't carry his last name anymore.

It was when she'd been in the midst of talking with some male when Xavier had made his approach.The glare over the top of her head was deathly and the young man didn't put up a fight, making an excuse to leave with plenty of discomfort on display. ❝ ⸻ You really don't think you'll be able to replace me, do you? ❞ There was a teasing tone filtered in, though if Pru turned to face him she'd see a set jaw.

she was trying to make an effort into fitting in. it was easier some days than others and truth be told, she felt more at home in coyote valley than she had in the place she'd spent her whole life. her hands trembled as she pocketed her phone, unwilling to wait and see if the man would respond to the text she'd impulsively sent his way.

the conversation she'd been in the middle of held little weight. he was a face she'd seen at the casino a time or two, his attempts to charm in between rounds being as fruitless as his attempts now. her hazel hues rolled when he rattled off an excuse and turned away like his life depended on. it was frustrating how commanding xaiver could be without saying a single word.

"with him? doubtful," she countered dryly, brows popping upwards as she turned to face the man on her terms. "why? you worried?" she caught his gaze with defeat already in mind. even if she wanted to read him, to know what he wasn't saying, she couldn't. she wondered if anyone could. "he's not my type." she finally added, her eyes dropping to the pavement.

#xmarlboronights #interaction — xavier zakaria.

she had a glass of local rosé in one hand, the other tucked loosely in the pocket of her denim jacket, half-watching the band on the main stage when the voice beside her pulled her gaze. it wasn't the kind of voice that demanded attention — but it carried something else. something real. “they are,” iris agreed, eyes drifting to the blooms in a mix of sun-drenched yellows, blushing corals, deep reds. wild and curated all at once, like they hadn’t decided whether they wanted to be feral or fancy. kind of like iris herself, if she was being honest. she turned to pru then, taking in the offered hand, the introduction, the kind of name that felt like it belonged in a poetry book or a southern gothic novel. “iris,” she returned, her grip warm and firm but not forceful. “and you don’t seem like a weirdo. just someone who knows what it feels like to miss something good.” there was a small pause, the kind she didn’t mind sitting in. then, “you used to work with flowers?”

sometimes she felt silly for missing her flower shop more than she missed being home or speaking to her family. it was the one thing in her life that had truly felt like hers. at least, it had until the brutal reminder of the eviction notice came through and the space she'd thought to be her own was no longer so. when the other spoke, pru shifted slightly, wishing now that she had a glass in hand too.

"nice to meet you," she exhaled, finding comfort in the exchange. "you have a really pretty name." the blonde had always loved working with iris' and all their beautiful colors. when the brunette spoke again, pru nodded slowly and sucked in a deep breath to steady herself. "i did. i owned my own shop."

running a business hadn't been easy, but she'd stuck to it and in a couple of months time, she'd started turning a profit. just not one that was good enough to help her cover everything when her family's wealth was left drained. "it feels like forever ago now, but i don't know that i'll ever really stop missing it."

#ruinedxreverie #interaction — iris winslow.

forgive but never forget @fleurypru - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag