literature

Learn To Dance

Deviation Actions

lilacgiraffe

Published: May 11, 2013

2.1K Views

Literature Text

FrancexReaderxSpain

Requested by: theawesomeone888

As you adjusted your mask, you walked up the grassy hillside to the mansion when the ball was to be had. With you skirts in your hand, you looked back down to where three handsome men were escorting three equally beautiful women.

Sighing, you adjusted you heavy, (f/c) ball gown which looked drab compared to the other three that were approaching you, with women who were careful to keep their dresses dry wearing them. Just for laughs, your European History teacher decided it was a good idea to hold a masked ball at the end of the school year because you were finishing high school that year.

"I hate this!" you growled, throwing the skirts back to the ground where they would be soiled. Huffing, you stomp up to the door, your old sneakers that you wore under getting drenched along with the hem of your dress, turning it a shade darker. Throwing the door open, you startle the 'servant' (an underclassman) that was about to open it for you.

"M-ma'am," the blonde stutters, he glasses slipping of the edge of his nose, "I was to get that for you. Please, at least let me escort you to the main hall.

"No, thanks," you scoff, shrugging the false sleeve of your dress onto your shoulder.

"Ma'am?" the stuttering boy asked again.

"I said, no!" you shout, already frustrated by the growing heat of the thick dress and the fact the the sleeves were meant to slip off of your shoulders which was the exact opposite of what you wanted. You look around, growing embarrassed by the scene you had caused. The six that had walked in before you, of course, were amused. As the three girls giggled behind their elegant masks and another man just rudely, two of the men smirked at you.

"Gilbert," a French accent said smoothly, "Will you take Alice to the ball?"

"Si, and take Caterina as well, please?" a Spanish voice added.

"Fine by me!" a thick, German voice replied, identifying the three as the Bad <s>Touch</s>Friends Trio. "I just get more ladies~"

"Get your hands off me you filthy bastardo!" Caterina's loud voice called, followed by a swift smacking noise as Alice's hand made contact to the back of Caterina's head.

"That is no way to treat a gentleman, Caterina" the Brit scolded as the four walked off, teaching the rowdy Italian of how a woman should treat her date.

"Ah, now that their gone," Francis smiled from under his blue mask, "Matthew, Toni and I will take this young lady to the ball room."

As the two surround you, linking their arms in yours, Toni tries to spark up conversation with you. "And who is that under that pretty (f/c) mask?" he teases, trying to lift the mask with his free hand. You smack the nimble hands away, effectively taking your arm from the Frenchman.

"Madam, you must be either very ugly or very shy." Francis laughed.

You hated the way his 't's slurred away. "I assure you," you said between gritted teeth, mimicking his accent in a way that made the Spaniard giggle, "That I am neither and also both."

Francis huffed as you began to storm away, filled with anger and pride. Quickly, Toni regain his control. "Chica, don't be like that!" he called, catching your arm. "Please, let us at least take you to the main hall?"

"No, leave me alone. I'm going to leave anyway." you tsk, spinning on your heels, your sneakers making a loud, squeaking noise. The fashionable men cringe, catching sight of your worn shoes under your wet gown.

"Just let me know your name?" Francis asks, trotting to keep up with your quick stride.

"No!" you shout, picking up your pace. Beginning to trip over your (f/c) skirt, you become frustrated, tearing the silk skirts in your hands. Chuckling lightly at the gasp coming from the two men on your tail, you tear it further, a large, jagged slit running to halfway up your thigh. You feel your hair fall from it's graceful up-do and the ribbons holding your mask slip, letting the mask clatter to the ground. Shoving the doors open, you sprint past them, toward your car, where you had put a spare change of clothes. You unlock the door and grab the bag in record time, running towards a wooded area on the grounds.

You hear shouts behind you, asking you to come back. Laughing quietly, you stop behind a large rock, slipping your sneakers off and tugging your jeans under your dress. You huff in frustration as you struggle to the corset that held the dress to your body tightly. As you fight the silky ribbons, you hear voices get closer.