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ilylovelyz · 1 year ago

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once more to see you.

pair : levi x fem!reader

warning(s) : post pregnancy, angst with a happy ending, kinda a part 2. to see you again (can i get a kiss), but a lil revamped, postpartum depression, mentions of death, levi is using a cane instead of a walking chair 🌚, this is kinda long, probably my worst fic

it's been months since you've last seen levi. it's been months since the last time you kissed him on the lips, telling him you love him, and just overall basking in the silly little seconds you once had with him.

within those few measly months you happened to give birth earlier than expected to your first born. you tend to tear up whenever you remember those few months. you don't even know how long it's been since then, you just know it was a little over two months.

those few measly months were absolute torture. levi wasn't there to guide you throughout the end of your pregnancy, and he wasn't there for the painful, scary, and life threatening birth of your first child.

you remember the previous months, the months he was with you. the two of you would just talk and talk about the baby, what to expect from the delivery. he even swore that he'd be with you every step of the process, holding your hand. months of planning wasted, just like that.

you had to do it alone. and even after the harsh delivery of your son, you still had to wait for levi. the terrain of majority of the world was so fucked up, it almost made navigation impossible, especially for a woman who nearly died during her labor, and for a fragile newborn.

you of course don't blame levi. you never could. it wasn't his fault that he was one of the only few people skilled enough to exterminate the titans and save the world. if it ever came to it, you'd expect him to save the world over you.

but of course, there were times when you absolutely yearned for him. when the baby just would not stop fucking crying, did you wonder if life would be better if levi just chose you. if he just chose you over his duty, maybe, just maybe you wouldn't have to go through all this shit alone.

there were days when you couldn't even take care of your son, too depressed to even move from your bed. you had to have assistance to even just bathe yourself. you just wanted once more to see him. once more to show him the lovely creation you two had made, but you couldn't. but slowly, things got better. just like the rest of the world, you were repairing yourself and getting better.

it was when your baby was almost three months old were you finally told that safe navigation could be possible. and god, were you absolutely overjoyed. you couldn't help but (gently) swing your baby up in the air, marveling at it's giggles and laughs.

oh, once more you were going to see him.

the day of you finally reuniting with your levi, you were absolutely frightened. it had been some time since you last saw him. you panicked, dizzy mind coming to a bunch of horrible conclusions and assumptions that you damn knew weren't true, but could help but think. what if he fell out of love with you? what if he doesn't consider you beautiful anymore? then it hit you, what if he wasn't even alive?

jeez, that one stung. tears brimming at your eyes, you frantically shook the thoughts away. no, that's the worst, worst case scenario. he promised you that he'll see you again. after you calmed down, you somehow found the will to laugh at yourself. he's the strongest man to ever live, what are you even thinkin'? levi would never die on you.

when you finally arrived to where levi and the other survivors were supposed to be, you were frantically looking around for him. it was quite crowded even then. you ignored the shouts of the people who accompanied you, desperately surfing the crowd, trying to keep up with you.

you couldn't keep still. you had to keep looking. you wondered if he was looking for you too. ah, your heart stung at that. you paused in your tracks for a second, stopping at a balcony like-road, allowing your legs to take a break from all the walking you did. you watched from afar as the streets bustled, unknown faces leaving as fast as they appeared. how were you ever going to find him in this sea of people?

finally, your accompanies caught up to you, lightly scolding you for running off. you couldn't care less, you had worse scoldings before. you sighed in frustration, focus coming down to your baby that was so interested in this new, bustling world. 'so cute,' you thought, bringing up your free hand to cradle his much smaller, chunkier one.

you looked back up again at the crowd below, shoulders slumping in defeat. the sun was setting, the crowd was becoming less dense and many were returning to wherever they came from. sensing your disappointment, your accomplice spoke up. "we can always come back tomorrow," they pitifully smiled, their hand coming up to pat your back.

you felt your eyes sting with salty tears once more. you don't wanna wait another day. you felt that uncomfortable rise of heat in your chest as your breaths became uneven. "i jus' wanna see him once more.." you mumbled, looking down at your innocent baby, trying desperately to blink away the tears.

you let out a final heavy sigh, legs numb as you waddled to turn around and face back to the direction you came from.

oh. you blinked once, twice, three times. that face looked familar, you stupidly thought, too blindsided to see the short figure standing on the other side of the rode, walking aimlessly without a thought.

"there's just no way.." you sharply inhaled. finally, the tears just to fall on their own. finally, once more, you get to see your precious levi, albeit standing across the street from you.

your eyes sparkled with joy, only for them to once again to be overfilled with salty, stinging tears. wait, he's walking away from you.

within a second, you were almost clutching your baby, making sure they didn't fall out of your grasp as you began to speed walk into his direction. "wait.." you whispered. he didn't seem to hear you. "wait." you said, a little louder, but it still wasn't enough.

what turned into a paced walk turned into a wobbly run. "wait!" you cried out, almost tripping in your heels before eventually they just flew off your sore, bruised feet. ignoring the yells of your accomplices, you continued your struggle against the crowd, bumping into many on your way.

"please wait!" you cried once more, almost cringing when you felt the rasp of your yells. he was right there, but he's not hearing you. "levi! wait please!" you rasped out, stumbling to the side when you bumped into another particular face.

you heard the confused call of your name next to you, it was jean. you felt lightheaded as you finally regained your breath. only for it to be taken away again when he finally turned around. he heard you.

like an idiot, you stumped into jean's hold on you, face as red as a tomato. jeez, you were certainly out of shape. you didn't mind though, because in a second, levi was pacing himself to you. his beautiful grey eyes of his wide with disbelief as he looked at you.. and then the baby.

using the last of your strength, you pulled yourself together to somewhat leap into levi's arms, finally falling into his arms. you almost brought him down with you, if not for the cane, the two of you would be done for.

finally, you sobbed into his arms once more, tears running like a waterfall as you chanted his name over and over again. "i mished you sho' much.." you babbled incoherently, too busy choking on your own saliva. levi burried his nose into your neck, inhaling the sweet natural scent of you he missed so much. "i missed you so much too, my love." he whispered, peppering soft kisses on your jawline. his free hand was gripping at your waist, afraid to let go in case you left again.

levi's heart felt so heavy with all this pain and sadness. now that you were finally here, with him, he finally was able to let it all go. he felt so helpless without you. he felt like a burden, to be unable to walk without stumbling slowly. he lost sleep over the thought of you being alone for the last few months of your pregnancy. his heart burned painfully, he didn't want you going into labor alone.

he felt so useless. he promised you that you would have his support and he basically broke it. he was often stuck in his bed, too in pain and too tired to move. the tortuous thoughts of you replaying in his head. the minute he was better and able to walk a little better, he was up and searching around for you. the chance was little, but he would search everywhere just to see you once more.

you were sobbing into his arms until you gasped, pulling away and bringing down your baby to levi's view. "l-look levi, he looks like y-you," you snorted. you marveled at the very distinguished similarities between your husband and baby. all that hard work just for the baby to look like him.

stunned, he observed the baby for a few seconds. this was your baby? his baby? the baby he waited so long for? he was too amazed, but he didn't stay standing there for long like a fool before he brought up his free hand to the baby's cheek.

ah, it was so soft. he looked up at you nervously before he suddenly let go of his cane, ignoring the sudden loss of support in his permanently injured leg. his shaky hands came to wrap around the baby's body, careful not to unwrap it's fuzzy warm blanket.

levi couldn't help but let out a shaky breath as he held his son, his first-born. his baby. he couldn't wrap his head around it. the two of you made this? of course it's your child, it's precious in every-way possible that he can't seem to imagine he was this baby's father.

he didn't think a bastard like him could create something so treasured and beautiful. he didn't want to, but he couldn't resist the quivering of his lip as the baby in his arms looked up at him innocently with (e/c) eyes, gleaming with happiness and purity. levi felt like he was in paradise, finally holding his child and being with his fiancée.

leaning his head down, he placed a soft kiss on his son's forehead, before laying his forehead against his. the baby began to writhe in his arms as levi's tears accidentally dropped onto the newborn's face. "ah, sorry," he absentmindedly spoke.

you giggled at his apology to the baby. "levi, let's go home," you inched forward, bending your knees a little so you could place a yearning kiss on your little fiancée. finally, you've seen him once more.

#aot x reader #attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman fluff #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman angst #levi x reader

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todaysdocument · 8 months ago

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Furniture Repair at Fair Street School

Record Group 69: Records of the Work Projects AdministrationSeries: National Youth Administration (NYA) Photographs showing Projects in New England and New York

Original caption: This photograph depicts a young man repairing a chaise lounge for a National Youth Administration training program at the Fair Street School in Connecticut.

This black and white photograph shows a young man recaning a chaise lounge. His face is not visible as he bends over the lounge. A nearby chair holds the cane that he’s working with. Tables and many chairs line the edges of the room.

#archivesgov #April 10 #1939 #national youth administration #new deal #great depression #furniture

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arkhamsrevenge · 1 year ago

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Snapshot of Harry Osborn PS5 x reader

You made your way over to Harry and took off your cardigan, placing it over the glass nearest to him. He was silent but allowed you to help him stand up by placing both your hands on his arms. You set him on his bed and placed his cane next to him.

“Don’t move.” You say finding a dustpan. While you swept up the glass, Jence came in with his breakfast. He gave it to Harry then grabbed a garbage can to put the glass in.

“Ms. I’ll take care of the rest.” He says walking away to dispose of the glass. You turned to Harry who was still on the bed, his breakfast at his side, staring into space. You kneel down in front of him.

“Mr. Osborn?” You ask quietly. Harry’s eyes slowly make their way to yours. “It’s ok. I can call the window repair man right away to fix this.” You were surprised when Harry treated you like a human around the son. With Norman’s reputation you assumed Harry was just some spoiled brat who would make ridicololus demands all day. But you were surprised when he would hold the door for you when you first started, when he pushed chairs out of your way or when he would make you breakfast if you were up late taking care of the house. It’s breaking your heart to see him like this.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. You shook your head and handed him his breakfast.

“It’s not a big deal. Eat, please. I’ll take care of everything else.” You said, standing up and walking out.

#harry osborn x reader #ps5 spiderman #harry osborn #ps5 harry osborn

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i-suc-at-art · 7 months ago

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Day 6: immortal

Ik this isn’t exactly danny phantom but it’s my dp oc so id like to think it counts.. This also is something i’ve had in the google doc vault for like ages lol it takes place during beyond batman, i was eventually going to have danny join the story but this is only the first part so don’t come for me that danny isn’t in this.. I still think it’s good writing so take pitty on my and read it pretty please 🥺🥺

“We have a ghost problem in Gotham” Terry says

“I don’t think so.. I’ve seen everything, Zombies, vampires, only one ghost though..”

“A real ghost?” Terry asks while sitting on the desk, Bruce was repairing the Suit sitting down in a chair.

“She was a half ghost but yes. She was once the ward of Vlad masters, she came to Gotham when she was 17, the two of them weren’t on good terms.”

“Woah, rich kid huh?”

“Didn’t act like it, but she was dangerous, vindictive too. She didn’t love that i wasn’t willing to go the extra mile in stopping bad guys” Bruce continues working on the suit not looking up

“Freaky.. Wait, wouldn’t she be like 40 by now?”

Bruce looks up at Terry and sighs. He stands walking over to the bat computer “Computer bring up file on Clover Morte.”

“Clover Morte, previous identities unknown, alias: Reaper, Age:17, metahuman powers: increased strength, intangibility, invisibility, increased sight, flight, overshadowing, ghostly fire, immortality, other powers unknown.”

“Do you know where she is? or how to find her?”

“I have a few ideas, you worry about the bad guys, i’ll worry about finding the ghost who haunts Gotham.”

“Right.” Terry puts on his suit and heads out in the batmobile.

Bruce steps into the middle of the small graveyard in Park Row, his cane hitting an inground plaque he side steps to not stand on the grave.

“My eyes must be deceiving me! Is that the one and only Bruce Wayne? The living ghost?” A voice asks from the shadows

“I could say the same about you Reaper.” Bruce turns to where he heard the voice

“Ain’t nobody called me that, not in a long time..” Clover says landing silently in front of Bruce

“You still look good for 37..” He smirks down at the young ghost, her body still looking 17

“You look good too, for a dead guy.” A burst of fire lights from her hand as she passes Bruce patting him on the shoulder with her non burning hand “So, whatcha need? There’s no way you’d see me just to visit.”

“You ever talked to your Dad before he passed?” Bruce follows her and Clover slows her pace so they can walk side by side

“Vlad? Oh no he’s alive and well, he’s also a halfa, naturally created halfas age slower than humans, but they age.” She pauses and opens up a decently sized mausoleum to have a dry place for the two to talk.

“Ah.. That’s good to know that Mr. Masters is alive, still, that bastard’s probably going to live longer than Mcginnis.”

“You’re the one who's going to outlive us all Bruce..” She steps further in motioning for him to follow “So that’s your new ward? Or maybe the new Batman that I've been hearing whispers about?” Clover pulls up a chair for Bruce to sit, clearly she had made this some sort of home. A cot bed in the corner, a couple empty takeout containers sit in a trash bag, looking around Bruce is seriously considering offering Clover a room

“Perceptive as ever. You know you should really talk to Vlad before it’s too late.”

“I mean we’ve talked, he knows I'm alive.. well half alive, but still. He understands that my place is here. Though I haven’t seen him in about 3 or 4 years now, I'm really thinking about it..” She pauses and looks at Bruce, his eyes darting around inspecting the room

“I don’t need a room Bruce. This is my haunt, take me away from it and I won’t hesitate to bring your spirit here myself.” She glares at him and he can’t tell if she’s being serious or not.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He sighs, eyes focusing back on the ghost girl. She lights a couple of small torches on the walls with the fire from her hand. A bright green ring glows around her waist; it splits and starts to change her body, her hair falling from its fiery ponytail, to equally fiery red hair that reaches her shoulders, her bangs black and eyes a bright green. She now looks to be 17 or 18 but her face looks just as aged as someone in their late twenties. Her eyes suckin in, mouth positioned in a frown, she looks troubled. Bruce can tell she isn’t hiding it either.

“Ok, spit it out.. you didn’t just come here to pass along fatherly advice, and exchange pleasantries.”

“Mcginnis says we have a ghost problem. But i’m not so sure. It seems to..” Bruce pauses searching for the right words “high school to be a real ghost.”

“What do you want me to do? Play high school?” She crosses her arms and leans against one of the walls

“That might be a good idea.. Mcginnis does need someone out there who I trust helping him learn the ropes.”

Clover sighs “My guy.. I was joking, I'm not going back to school. Last time it was kinda a hellhole.”

“I’m sure it gets lonely here..” Bruce says

“One; that was out of pocket, two; Jason visits quite often ok?” she pauses “I know what you're doing.. I quite enjoy my simple life I've carved for myself so why don’t you stop trying to carve your dick into it.” She glares her green eyes turning a bright blue for a moment

“It would be good to get to know your peers.” He continues to push her buttons

“Oh yeah, like I'll be able to connect with a bunch of teens who were just sperm when I started my haunt.” She rolls her eyes

“It would be nice to have an inside man. Dont adult actors play teens all the time?” He questions.

She sighs, “If you stop nagging I’ll give you one week. When we get this figured out and I'm back in this graveyard. If you make me stay any longer I swear I will make good on my threat.”

Bruce just nods then sticks out his hand for a handshake, clover grasps it tightly “Death.. I can’t believe that worked..” She balls up her fist and hits it to her forehead.

#danny phantom #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #clover masters #danny phantom oc #oc #dp fanfic #dpxdc #oc & canon #dannymay2024 #day 6: immortal

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slutforalastor · 9 months ago

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Say It With A Smile, Part 4

(I have been hesitant to preface the actual text of these posts in order to let them speak for themselves, but I have to be clear, this is the point where this fic really enters territory not suitable for minors. There's only so much I can do to prevent that from happening, and it's not as though we're jumping straight into the kama sutra, but I refuse to let it go unsaid that this is not intended for minors. From here onward, it's also fair to say this will have nsft and nsfw stuff going on. With that warning, here's what you've come here for)

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You don't know much about him, but given the prolonged silence between you two, you're getting the impression that Alastor loves to savor all things. After thanking Niffty for fetching tea for the two of you, he'd taken his time letting it cool, then taken measured sips from his "Oh Deer" mug while surveying the skyline of the Pride Ring from his bird's-eye view. You're holding a mug of tea no fuller than when you'd been handed it, the warmth on your hands helping to ground you after your near-death experience. Maybe "near-second-death experience" was more accurate. And you're frightened, but that's not the only emotion; there's a very present, yet repressed, writhing feeling squirming out from under the stifling weight of self-preservation. The sort of feeling that had an entirely separate section of Hell to help put it into practice.

You wouldn't dream of initiating the conversation. You can only wait for him to collect his thoughts, or become bored of teasing you, or whatever is making him drag out the stifling silence.

"So, little fawn. My sincerest apologies for losing my temper. I can't expect you to just forget what you saw back there. Normally, when I feel that someone could be a problem, I just kill them, but killing you hardly seems appropriate. For both of our sakes, I'd hope that you'll put that exchange out of your mind. I try very, very hard to only kill when someone's really done something to deserve it, and luckily, I don't know you well enough to judge your morality. And you may be in Hell, but that doesn't make you a bad person, does it?"

You hope not.

"Wonderful! You have my word that I will exercise the utmost restraint around you from now on. You have nothing to fear if you simply stay on my good side." He pauses, the area around his eyes darkening, like they've lost some of their luminescence. His voice, however, drips with knowing sultriness. "But you want to be on my good side, don't you?"

You do, yes. Although not only to avoid being killed.

"That goes nicely into the next point of discussion." He turns in his chair so that he's looking directly at you, his eyes finding yours no matter where they may drift. Using his cane as a visual aid, he continues. "These ears aren't the only thing that are perfectly tuned. I also have an excellent nose, much more sensitive than your average sinner's. And dear, you reek of pheromones. Just the sort that I'd normally change the station on, but these times are hardly normal. My body, powerful as it is, needs to repair itself, and it's putting a strain on the rest of me. The kind of strain that makes it... difficult, to control oneself. There's nothing worse than not being in control, wouldn't you agree?"

It might depend, honestly. Controlling one's destiny, or living space, or boundaries, those are good. But sometimes, it can be nice for someone else to take the lead.

He chuckles, but his jovial cadence loses a bit of its luster. "An area where we differ, then. I prefer to never give anyone the upper hand against me. This will not be the exception." He stands from his chair, one hand on the middle of his cane and both arms behind his back as he paces the floor, his back to you, his voice back to its usual springiness. "You're in a very unique position, little fawn. I can tell without even hearing you say it that you're interested in me, and I just so happen to be in need of a plaything, and a way to make sure that you keep my secret. Why don't you and I make a deal?"

You're not sure how interested you are in a Faustian bargain.

"Come now, this isn't a handshake, or a paper to sign. It's a promise; I'll give you the attention you're clearly craving, and in return, you never breathe a word to Charlie or Vaggie, or anyone else, about what you saw. Oh, and there'll be no touching me. But we're both adults here, so you're free to stop me at any time, and I'll be frequent with my asking permission. Seem fair?"

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your heart accelerating all over again. He's not wrong; there's an animal magnetism that keeps you from thinking straight around him. As dangerous as he is, there's an intoxicating idea of him bringing you right to the edge, and then pulling you back. The relinquishing of power, giving yourself over to something that could easily kill you, but caresses you instead. But this feels so sudden.

"Well, I'm not going to lay claim to you tonight, my dear. Where's the fun in dessert before dinner? This is an arrangement we're making that you'll honor when the mood is right. I'll have a special phone placed in your room, and should I have need of your company, I'll send for you. As long as you honor the agreement that we've made, you will have a wonderful time, and that's a guarantee."

And this is something he'll enjoy, as well?

"You must understand, the act in most of its forms does nothing at all for me. Even in the Living World I had no use for it. But this isn't about that; it's about the control. Any fool can grab whatever piece of control they can dig their claws into, but when someone gives it you willingly?" He turns, his smile curled sadistically. "Now that's entertainment."

You feel a shiver run through your body, a nervous excitement gathering in you that you're sure he can sense somehow. He crosses the distance between himself and you, with methodical steps that you know he's enjoying. Inches away from you, he takes your chin in his clawed fingers, the points settling on your skin so gently you can only feel their very edge, an eyelash away from cutting your flesh, perfectly restrained. He forces your face up, making you keep your eyes on him. In his eyes, you see the gaze of someone who's just found a new favorite toy. "We're going to have such fun together, you and I."

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Also on AO3! | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

#alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel #borderline nsft #the radio demon #radio demon x you #radio demon x reader

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momentsbeforemass · 1 year ago

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Restoration

(by request)

There’s a joy in restoring things.

I learned that from my grandmother. She had a habit of grabbing up old, neglected furniture. Whether it was an old family piece that a cousin wanted to get rid of because it looked ratty. Or something she saw at a yard sale.

She would take it home. Take it apart. And do a complete (and I mean complete) restoration.

Refinish it? At a minimum. Repair a broken part? Of course. Make a replacement for a missing piece? She always knew someone who could. Or she did it herself.

One time she picked up a chair with a torn cane seat and back. Then taught herself how to cane. So she could weave it a new seat and back.

Whatever it took, she did it. But when she was done, something that had been destined for the landfill was as good as new.

She didn’t just love doing the restoration work. For her, the real payoff was having furniture with a story. And she was just as happy to tell you the story of some family heirloom as she was something she found on the curb on trash day (she called them her “finds”).

The best part of the story for her? That – whatever it was – it was still here. And it was as good as new.

I was thinking about her, when I read this part of today’s Gospel, “For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through Him.”

Looking back on her restorations, she may not have known it. But she was showing me something about God.

About how God saves us. And about how God looks at us when He saves us.

God doesn’t save us by turning us into someone we’re not. When God saves us, it’s more like one of my grandmother’s restorations. God restores us back to who we always were. Who He made us to be.

But the best part? How God looks at us when He saves us.

God doesn’t save us with one hand. So He can use the other to hold His nose while He does it. God never begrudges us for needing to be saved.

It’s more like the joy of my grandmother. God absolutely delights in you and me. And in telling our stories, the stories of His “finds.”

(this is one of her chairs)

Today’s Readings

#Restoration #Who God made you to be #God #Jesus #Catholic #Christian #Church #Antiques #Junk #God's Love #Grandmother #Moments Before Mass

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dreamsclock · 2 years ago

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clinic duty is taking care of all the pets hurt (which is. a lot. given how the server is)

i know this song technically even a prompt but goddamn i couldn’t resist writing something ;—; no matter what au he’s in, apparently c!dream is always an animal lover!

warnings: trauma, physical injury from torture (mentioned), chronic pain (mentioned), wounded animals (they’re okay!!), infections (mentioned), dead animal (mentioned)!!

“There’s another group of injured horses,” Bad says, apologetically, “Sam wants you to help ‘em out.”

Blinking grit and sleep from his eyes, Dream turns. “Good morning,” he says, dryly, only half awake, “nice to see you too.”

Bad winces. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to be cold. It’s— It’s been a long night.”

“The nights are… always long.” With a grimace and some effort, the clamber to his feet is less awkward and painful than usual. Maybe today will be a good day. “They’re the exact same length every night. In fact, they’re pretty short, I dunno. I feel like I only just fell asleep.”

He does. Every muscle in his body protests against his hobbling movement; his leg creaks under him, and Dream pats the metal absently, reaching with his free hand for his cane. His leg is due for repair — overdue — but the idea of going to Sam for help makes his flesh crawl.

“Where are the horses?” He asks tiredly. There’s an ache in his head already. “Don’t I have any actual patients?”

“Nope.” Bad pops the last sound. The dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced than usual — since escaping from the Egg’s clutches (well, Dream knows escaping is a polite term for what happened) he’s needed more sleep, and it doesn’t seem like he’s getting it. Stifling a yawn, his old friend sinks down into the chair Dream had just stood from, sighing gratefully at the moment of respite. “Server’s been pretty quiet recently. Not much of anything going on. Other than… Ooh, yeah, Ant got some egg vine in a nasty looking wound, but Sapnap took care of it. But other than that, things are peaceful!”

At the front of the prison, the nether portal particles ticking the stubble on his chin he’s get to care enough about to shave, Dream pauses. Something sick and sour rises in the back of his throat.

“…I wish it wasn’t,” he says, before the portal whisks him away with a purple glow and soft hum. He doesn’t bother saying goodbye to Bad. With his luck, he’ll see the other again soon.

The server is peaceful. Only injured animals, which, for Dream, is somehow worse. It’s hard to keep up any kind of act when his only audience is a group of innocent, oblivious animals — when he sees the horses, all of them young, inquisitive, his shoulders slump.

“As annoying as the actual people on this server are, they’re at least easier to diagnose,” he mutters aloud, well aware of the petulance dripping from his voice, “I’m not an animal doctor. I’m not even any kind of doctor, technically.”

One of the horses, Callie, whinnies softly. Her mane is tangled with a dark substance. When he looks closer, it’s dried blood, surrounding a painful looking scrape on her back.

…For just a moment, Dream’s gruff demeanour vanishes entirely. Face softening, he runs one hand over her side, eyes closed.

Callie reminds him of Spirit. He misses them.

When Dream opens his eyes again, it’s down to business. Maybe he can persuade Sam to take on more of his clinic animal hours — as much as he hates his Warden, it’s getting easy to guilt him into things. They’re both going through character development, though he’s not sure either of them are for the better.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he tells Callie, before glancing round at the other horses with a resigned sigh, “and it’s gonna be a long few hours.”

send me apple a day au asks to answer!!

#> au: apple a day #dreblr #> sparrow’s writing !!

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jardinwicker · 13 days ago

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Revitalizing Your Furniture: Expert Woven Seat, Machine Cane, and Reweaving Repairs

Give your furniture a makeover with our Revitalizing Your Furniture services, including expert woven seat, machine cane, and reweaving repairs. Whether you have a vintage chair that needs a new seat or a rattan piece that needs refreshing, our skilled craftsmen at Jardin Wicker are here to help. Restore your furniture to its former glory with our professional touch.

#cane furniture #chair repair service #cane repair

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95jezzica · 1 year ago

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Unlikely Friends

I've been in the mood of "unlikely friends"-mood for Sweden and Romano lately, so I'm gonna spread it. ÒwÓ

Romano originally being a bit intimidated by Sweden, because damn, the guy is even taller than Germany!

During a meeting in Rome, Sweden accidentally gets lost on the way to the meeting. Romano ends up with the duty to find him.

It takes a very annoyed Romano almost 3 hours to find Sweden, but once he does all of his previous annoyance melts away as he finds Sweden helping an old nonna repair her favorite chair and fixing the faulty electricity cables.

Romano is also silently impressed upon hearing Sweden hold a conversation in, clumsy but understandable, Italian.

(Afterwards Romano then has to save Sweden as the old grandmother tries to introduce a sheepish Sweden to her granddaughter). xD

Somehow Sweden still manages to be given a big bag full of food with him by the time they manage to leave. ("A growing man needs his food!"). xD

Sweden shares some with Romano, who decides then that Sweden isn't so bad. x)

One of Ladonia's official languages are latin, to Romano's surprise.

Romano taught Ladonia, seeing as there weren't many people who could give Proper latin lessons left. (And Sweden asked him very nicely, but hush, Romano can't have other people know that's why he taught Ladonia all latin he knew.) xD

Sweden is an amazing baker, and Romano has a big sweet tooth. They pair really well in that sense, and Romano loves tasting new recipes Sweden tries out.

Sweden usually sit pretty far back during meetings. Romano didn't realize why until a day when he (Romano) was late and got a seat behind Sweden, who had a trangia kitchen out and was cooking some food. x'D

Though Romano is embarrassed to admit it, Romano took a long time to realize Sweden is blind. In his defense Sweden's white cane is old enough to not even be white since he made it himself and refuses to switch it out, but yeah. Romano usually didn't sit close enough to Sweden to notice the earphone in Sweden's ear either - (directly connected to the microphone at the podium to ensure Sweden would be able to hear everything) - or that Sweden always got special notes (in braille) at the end of the meetings.

However once Romano realized, he did his best to be helpful while not being overbearing. Some of the adjustments included actually making sure his home was cleaned whenever Sweden came over to visit, so Sweden wouldn't trip over things on the floor.

Additionally, whenever the meetings were somewhere in Italy, Romano made sure to set Sweden up with the best disability friendly hotels in the nearby area.

Sweden took Romano to see the Auroras once. Romano is admittedly not great with the cold, but he had to admit the view was well worth it once the auroras start to dance in the sky.

(This is getting long again, so I'll stop here for now, but I have FEELINGS about these two. I think they'd make a good duo).

#Hetalia #hws Sweden #hws Romano #hws #hws Ladonia #hws South Italy #hws Italy #hws Family #hws Friends #hws Headcanons #hws Headcanon #Headcanon #Headcanons

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kelyon · 10 months ago

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Courtship 4: The Day After

After her date with Mr. Gold, Lacey goes back to her normal life

Read on AO3

It was still dark when Lacey heard a loud pounding somewhere outside. Ignoring the racket, she rolled over in bed and sunk deeper into the covers. It was so warm and she didn’t have to wake up yet. The store didn’t open until nine.

The second series of knocks was harder to sleep through. They were coming from the side door, the entrance to the part of the building where they lived. These were determined knocks, knocks that knew they would be heard, knocks that had all day and wouldn’t stop until they were answered.

Lacey stayed in bed, slowly stretching out from the curled-up position she’d slept in. Dad’s heavy footsteps lumbered from his bedroom, through the other rooms, and down the stairs to the door.

Good, Lacey thought as she closed her eyes again. Whatever it is, he can take care of it.

Then her father started yelling.

Groaning, Lacey dragged herself out of bed and pulled on whatever warm clothes were at the top of the pile on a chair by her dresser. She plodded through the apartment, down the stairs, and out around to the back of the shop. Her father was by the door where they took in deliveries. He was shouting at two men in workman’s overalls.

“No way in hell I’m opening the door for you. You have no right to be here! This is private property!”

“Indeed it is, Mr. French.”

Lacey turned and saw Mr. Gold walk out of the darkness and into the ring cast by the security light over the back door. Even on his cane, he sauntered through the snow in the path cleared for him by the workmen and the dolly they’d wheeled over to the back door. He had a large key ring in his free hand, with the key ready to go. With utter calm and professionalism, he unlocked the door Dad had tried to keep the workmen from entering. Muttering thanks, the workmen went inside, pushing and pulling the dolly that held a very tall cardboard box.

Only when they were inside did Mr. Gold deign to look at Moe French.

“It’s my property.”

Dad rumbled some words Lacey hoped Mr. Gold wouldn’t be able to decipher. Then he started shouting again. “You can’t just have people barge in here without any notice! What the hell do you think you’re doing, Gold?”

Mr. Gold made a show of putting his keys back in his coat pocket. “According to your rental agreement, all requests for repairs must be made as soon as a problem is observed. I could penalize you for not informing me of your faulty hot water heater.”

Hidden in the shadows away from the action, Lacey bit the inside of her mouth. She had told Mr. Gold about the hot water. How was she supposed to know he’d actually do anything about it?

“How the hell do you know anything about that hot water tank? It’s none of your business--”

“It is entirely my business, Mr. French,” Mr. Gold snapped. “It became my business the day you sold me this building.”

“Biggest mistake of my life,” her father muttered.

Something inside Lacey winced at that. They’d sold their home to Mr. Gold so they’d have enough money to pay for Mom’s second round of treatments. Treatments that had ultimately failed to save her. Was Dad saying it would have been better if they hadn’t even tried?

He was still yelling at Mr. Gold, who was ignoring him to keep an eye on the workers inside.

“We’ll have your God-damned rent! It’s only been three days! You don’t need to give us the shakedown. We’ll pay it!”

“Oh, I have every confidence in that, Mr. French. After all, you know the consequences if you fail.”

“That’s why you’re fixing up the place, isn’t it? To kick us out! I’ve lived here for thirty years, Gold!”

“Fascinating.” Mr. Gold moved away from the door. “Well, it seems my men have things well in hand here.” He looked at Lacey’s father. “I’ll know if you cause them any trouble, Mr. French. Have a good morning.”

Dad clenched his fists and glared bloody murder at Mr. Gold. Then he stomped off into the building, already haranguing the workmen.

Mr. Gold was halfway to his car. Lacey ran after him.

“Hey!”

He stopped and turned around. They faced off in the shadow of the building, between the orange street lights and the white light over the back door.

“Good morning, Miss French.” His politeness was more genuine than it had been when he was talking to her father. “Sleep well?”

She stepped forward. “Are you really gonna evict us?”

“That’s up to your father, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lacey rubbed her arms over her chest. “This is just a crappy time of year to be homeless.”

“Not the best time of year not to have hot water, either.” There was a slight degree of good humor in his voice. “I take care of what belongs to me, Miss French. You’ll do well to remember that.”

He kept going to his car, and Lacey followed him, not sure of what else she could be doing right now. He stopped on the sidewalk before getting in. His back was turned to her, but Lacey got the distinct impression that Mr. Gold was hesitating. He was making a decision.

He turned around to look at her.

The light was better out here, but it wasn’t like seeing his face gave her much of a window into his soul. He kept his gloved hands over his cane. His thumb and index finger rubbed together. It was a long minute before he spoke.

“I enjoyed last night,” he said at last.

Lacey pressed her lips together. “So did I.”

“You should come to my house on Friday.”

Now she allowed herself a grin. “Should I?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’d like to have you for dinner, Miss French.”

Lacey snickered. “The way you said that, it makes it sound like you want to eat me.”

He tilted his head, clearly pretending to have no idea what she was talking about.

“I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock.”

“I can walk to your place. It’s not that far.”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Gold said firmly. He looked her up and down, at her pajamas and the motley outerwear she’d grabbed on her way out of bed. “Not as long as you don’t have a coat.”

Lacey opened her mouth, then shut it. Telling him that she did have a coat, just nothing she wanted him to see her in, probably wasn’t the sexiest move. He was offering to take care of her. Why not let him?

“Okay,” Lacey said. “Eight o’clock on Friday. I’ll see you then.”

He nodded. “Grand.”

****

The rest of the morning passed without incident. Since she was already awake, Lacey decided to make herself an actual breakfast for once. She sniffed the milk before pouring it into her oatmeal. It was a little funky, but not that bad. The motto around here had always been that if you didn’t gag at the first smell or taste, it was probably fine.

She could live with it.

When it came time to open the store, Lacey decided today was the day she’d make a display window for Valentine’s Day. They had to let people know that the holiday was coming and they should order--and pay for--their flowers today.

The display window had been Mom’s pride and joy. She put so much care and craft into making something unique for every holiday or season. Lacey had helped her with last Valentine’s Day, when even the act of reaching up and stapling a paper Cupid to the wall could exhaust her.

Despite years of example, Lacey didn’t have her mother’s knack for telling a story with plastic figures and tissue paper. Right now she didn’t have the heart to try. All she could manage was to drape an already-faded red tablecloth over a pile of empty boxes and cover it with an arrangement of all the red and pink merchandise they had. It was rinky-dink and pathetic, but that was an accurate advertisement for Game of Thorns. The store had never generated business because it was good, only because there was nowhere else in Storybrooke to buy flowers.

Dad spent the morning in the back of the shop, glowering at the workmen and grinding his teeth. From what Lacey could tell, he wasn’t actually causing them trouble, as Mr. Gold had warned him about. He was just doing all he could to make sure they knew they weren’t welcome. They left around mid-morning. When Dad came to the front of the store, grumbling and banging into things, Lacey took the opportunity to make herself scarce. He could stew over his misfortunes while sitting in front of the cash register and waiting for phone orders. It was Wednesday, and Lacey had the afternoon off.

****

She refused to feel guilty about enjoying her first hot shower in months. Mr. Gold was right, the building was his property. He had an obligation to make sure it was livable, just like they had an obligation to pay their rent. That was the deal. Dad could have told him as soon as the water heater started fritzing out. They could have had hot water months ago instead of making do with constant DIY repairs.

Stepping out of the shower, Lacey saw her reflection through the condensation on the bathroom mirror. The hickey Mr. Gold had given her stood out on the pale skin of her neck, right at the nape. A shiver went through her when she looked at it.

The purple mark didn’t hurt if she touched it. It was already lighter than it had been last night. Yet somehow it felt indelible, as permanent as a scar from a branding iron. This mark changed her. Mr. Gold had made this while he was fucking her asshole, after they had shared exactly one dinner date, after she had served him and knelt at his feet and agreed to obey every order he gave her.

Everything that had happened last night felt unreal. A romance novel fantasy, so bizarre and so perfect it might have been a dream. But it wasn’t a dream. It had happened. The proof was on her very flesh.

Lacey’s teeth started to chatter. Even if the water was hot, the air was still cold. She turned her hair dryer on at the hottest setting. It would make her hair brittle, but she didn’t care. She relished wave after wave of electric heat as it flowed over her.

For her weekly lunch with Mara and Janine, she put on clean jeans and a ribbed white turtleneck from the back of one of her drawers. The sweater wasn’t her style and never had been, but she needed it if she was going to cover up the hickey. It had been twelve hours since her date with Mr. Gold had ended. She wasn’t ready to let anyone know about it yet, not even her best friends.

****

Granny’s Diner was just around the corner, so Lacey opted to go without her ski jacket. Even without worrying about Mr. Gold judging her, that jacket had become absolutely loathsome. She’d never wear it again if she could help it.

Janine was already in their usual booth by the window. She was writing in a small notebook and occasionally punching numbers into a pocket calculator. Her pinched face and furrowed brow made her look older than she was--which was only eight days older than Lacey. With her blonde hair and worry lines, she looked just like Mom. All three of Uncle Peter’s kids had the Woolverton look, wispy hair and sky blue eyes.

When she saw Lacey, Janine swept the notebook and calculator into her purse. She got out of the booth and gave Lacey a hug.

“Hey, stranger!”

Their entire lives, the two cousins had never gone longer than a week without seeing each other. They didn’t used to be physical, but hugs had become mandatory as life had kept kicking them deeper and deeper into the dirt.

“Have you ordered yet?” Lacey asked as she sat down on the other side of the booth.

Wordlessly, Janine put her hand flat over the rim of her coffee cup.

“Is that it?”

“End of the month. This is one of those weeks where I had to decide who was getting lunch money, me or Chloe. As usual, the little sister won.”

“Yikes.”

Lacey had five dollars in her pocket, the last of her Christmas delivery tips. She’d been planning a hearty lunch of water and french fries and maybe there’d be enough left over for her to get some nail polish. Small luxuries, but at least she had them. At least her money never had to stretch far enough to cover a kid.

“Well, I’m glad you could hang out, at least.”

“Oh yeah, my schedule was wide open. That’s the problem.”

“Mine too,” Lacey sighed. “I hate January.”

The bell rang over the diner’s entrance. Their friend Mara bounced in. Her round cheeks were flushed--whether from the cold or from excitement remained to be seen. She pulled off her hand-knitted hat as she made her way to the booth. Her straight brown hair crackled with static electricity. After another round of hugs, Mara sat down next to Lacey. Ruby Lucas, the waitress on duty, came up to the table.

“This is everybody, right? What are we getting today?”

Mara leaned forward like she had to speak first or she’d explode. “A basket of your finest chicken strips, for the table!”

“Ooh, big spender,” Janine joked when Ruby left.

“I had an order today.” Mara drummed her hands on the table top. “A big one. I’ve got all the bills paid and I have ten whole dollars for discretionary spending.”

Despite her obvious glee, Mara rolled her eyes to downplay her success. She knew what a small victory it was in the grand scheme of things.

“Hey, that’s better than some people,” Janine said. Even small victories were victories, and they deserved to be celebrated.

Lacey smiled for her friend, but couldn’t keep herself from the mental calculations. How much richer you felt with ten dollars to spend instead of only five, and how much more money five dollars was than one dollar. Such small differences between amounts, but they meant so much where it counted.

And Mr. Gold was tossing around fifty dollar bills like they were nothing.

“What was the order?” Lacey asked Mara. She had to keep herself from wallowing in the unfairness of it all.

“Well I can’t tell you who it was, but it was a lot of lingerie and it was all black and sleek.”

“Oh my God, was it Mayor Mills?” Janine’s eyes went wide.

Mara raised her hands in a show of innocence. “I didn’t say that!”

“Oh my God, this is huge! This is the Mayor!”

“Was it all professional stuff?” Lacey asked. “Or was there anything, like, spicy?”

“Oh, I don’t want to think about that.” Janine scrunched her face up. “Not with the Mayor. I mean, obviously she’s gorgeous, but we have to give the woman some privacy.”

“She is gorgeous,” Lacey agreed. “I don’t know why more people don’t throw themselves at her. I hope she is seeing someone--or lots of people. Mayor Mills deserves to be happy.”

“You don’t need to be in a relationship to have nice underwear,” Mara said passionately. “If the people of Storybrooke understood that, I’d be in business for the rest of my life.”

“While you’re spreading that gospel, tell people they can have nice haircuts too,” Janine said.

“Or send themselves flowers.”

Back in high school, Lacey had tied her future success to going to college so she could get a good job and make something of herself. Mara and Janine had taken the direct route and started their own businesses. Sugar’n’Spice was attempting to be a boutique for lingerie and intimates. Hair Today! ran out of Janine’s basement. That idea had made much more fiscal sense when Uncle Peter and Andrew were both bringing in an income and Janine’s salon could function mostly as a semi-profitable hobby, at least until she got her start. Now Janine was responsible for the welfare of her entire surviving family.

“New month will start soon,” Mara offered Janine some hope. “The little old ladies will get their widow’s pensions and they’ll come in for their perms.”

“Yeah, I know,” Janine sighed. “And my mom will get her widow’s pension and we can buy some freaking groceries.”

“And then,” Mara kept trying to lighten the mood. “It’ll be Valentine’s Day! Lacey and I will start rolling in cash.”

Lacey snorted. “Not this year.”

Curiosity brought Janine out of her slump. “What’s going on?”

“Rent,” Lacey shrugged.

One word said it all. Her friend and cousin both nodded in sympathy.

“Best decision my mom ever made was to use Dad’s life insurance money to buy our house from Gold.” Janine held her coffee cup close to her chest. “I still owe him for my business loan, but at least he can’t kick Mom and Chloe out on the street.”

“He would, too,” Mara agreed.

Lacey looked down at her hands.

Ruby came back to the table with the basket of chicken strips and the fries Lacey would pay for. All three of them dug in.

“How are they doing?” Mara asked Janine. “I mean, besides everything.”

“Oh there’s a lot of ‘everything’.” Janine rubbed her forehead with the hand that wasn’t holding a chicken strip. “Right now it’s mostly Chloe.”

“Is she okay?” Lacey asked the stupidest question in the world. How okay could any kid be after losing her father and her brother on the same day, a little more than a month ago?

“We got a letter from the school. Apparently she keeps playing car accidents and funerals--like, every time she has free time to play. Dr. Hopper says that’s a normal way for a kid to process trauma, but it is freaking out the other kids. He wants her and Mom to come in for grief counseling.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Mara said. “If she’s gonna get the help she needs?”

Janine shook her head. “Mom won’t go. She keeps saying talking about it won’t help because talking about it won’t bring them back, so why bother?”

“Jesus,” Lacey whispered.

“She has a million other excuses. She doesn’t want to pull Chloe out of school for appointments, and she doesn’t want to walk in the snow, and we don’t have a car anymore, and even if we did, she’s never driving again.”

“I could drive her,” Lacey offered.

She understood why Aunt Terri didn’t want to drive after her husband and son had ended up in a crumpled heap on the side of the highway leaving Storybrooke. Lacey even understood why her aunt didn’t want most other people to drive her around in most cars. Lacey did not understand why the Game of Thorns delivery van should be the exception to the rule. Maybe she thought size meant safety. Or maybe she understood that the damn thing would never go over twenty miles an hour, so she’d have plenty of time to walk away from any oncoming vehicular doom.

Janine slowly nibbled on a French fry. “That might work, actually. If I let Chloe know you were coming, she’d get excited about it. And Mom wouldn’t want to disappoint her favorite niece.” She shrugged. “If anyone can get her to do something, it’d be you, Lace. You can do anything.”

Lacey made herself grin. How many times had she heard that lie before? But she had to pretend it was true. She had to pretend there was anything that could be done to help her family. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Me too,” Mara said. “And my mom. We’ll do anything for you guys.”

“I know,” Janine said in a small voice. “And we appreciate it. It just…” She shook her head. “There are some problems nobody can solve.”

“My mom says time helps,” Mara looked back and forth between Janine and Lacey. “She says it’s the only thing that does.”

Mara’s mother, Irma, had lost her husband to a redhead with a boob job just after Mara was born, so she was the resident expert on getting over things. For a long time, that had been the worst thing that had happened to any of them.

Lacey stared at the table. “What are we supposed to do while we’re waiting for the pain to stop?”

“Survive,” Janine said. “It’s the only option. I guess it’s better than the alternative.”

While the three of them contemplated the bleakness of that statement, a girl in a housecleaner’s uniform came up to the booth. It was Ashley Boyd. She had gone to school with them a million years ago. Now she worked at the bed and breakfast side of Granny’s.

“Um, Lacey?” She was almost inaudible over the noise of the diner. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Oh, uh, okay. Sure.”

Mara got out of the booth to let Lacey out. Ashley took her to a quiet corner by the restrooms. Now that they were away from the hustle and bustle of the diner, Lacey saw that Ashley’s eyes were red-rimmed. She clutched a wadded-up Kleenex between her hands. Lacey put her hand on the other girl’s arm.

“Ashley, what’s going on?”

“Um, have you talked to Sean lately?”

A pit formed in the center of Lacey’s stomach. Sean Herman was one of Hunter’s friends, another rich kid who looked at responsibilities like they were distant planets. When Lacey had first started with that crew she’d assumed that Ashley hung onto Sean for the same reason Lacey attached herself to Hunter--because rich kids were fun to be around. They had their own cars and there was always money for pizza and beer and they could party all night without having to worry about waking up in time for work the next morning. Only slowly had Lacey learned the horrifying truth: Ashley was in love with that idiot. She didn’t fawn over him because he was this town’s version of a prince. He was a prince to her because of how much she loved him.

And now she was crying at work and asking about him. Nothing good could come from that.

“I’m sorry, Ash. I don’t think I’ve seen Sean since the summer, at least.”

“He’s not answering my calls.”

Ashley’s mouth screwed up and her blue eyes seemed to quadruple in size. She was going to start crying again.

Somehow, this had become Lacey’s problem.

“Hey, no. It’s okay.” Lacey gave her a few awkward pats on the back.

She was not actually friends with Ashley. They’d barely been acquaintances in school and after graduation had only talked to each other because their boyfriends were friends. But she had to try to make things better for her. She had to be a human about it.

“I’m--” Ashley sniffed. “I’m late.”

That took Lacey a second. Then the pit in her stomach widened. “Like, late late?”

Ashley pressed her lips together and nodded.

“Oh shit,” Lacey whispered. “What are you gonna do?”

“I wanna talk to him first!” Ashley opened up the already-damp Kleenex. “I tried to go to his house, but his dad…”

Mr. Herman had never liked Ashley. Whenever Lacey had been around him, he’d always made some remark about Old Town girls taking advantage of promising young men. Trapping them, he would say. He was not going to like Ashley being pregnant.

“Listen,” Lacey said. “I’ve got Hunter’s phone number.” Unfortunately, it was still taking up space in her brain. “Maybe he can get Sean to talk to you, if you call him.”

Still teary, Ashley nodded.

Lacey went back to the booth to get Janine’s pen and notebook. She scribbled the digits and handed the paper to Ashley.

“You’re gonna be okay,” she lied.

Sniffling, Ashley took the paper and went back to work.

Mara waited until the other girl was out of the room before she asked, “What was that about?”

“Word to the wise,” Lacey slid back into the booth. “Don’t bang anyone who’s too stupid to wrap it up.”

Mara snorted. “That’s not a problem for me.”

“Poor kid,” Janine said. “I mean the baby, if she has it. That’s just what we need in this town, more kids growing up in poverty.”

“Maybe she’ll do the smart thing and get an abortion,” Lacey said. “That way she’ll only have her own life to ruin and not anybody else’s.”

“That’s harsh,” Mara said. “I mean, you never know what could happen. Ashley and Sean could get back together, raise their kid in a loving home. They could have a happy ending.”

“In Storybrooke?” Lacey looked at her friend, incredulous. “Are you kidding?”

****

She stopped by Dark Star Pharmacy after lunch. There was a shade of burgundy nail polish that was a pretty good match for Mr. Gold’s leather couch. Memories burned like secret flames in Lacey’s mind, of what Mr. Gold had done to her on that couch. What would he do to her on their second date? What other tastes did Mr. Gold want to indulge in? What did he crave?

What was he going to take from her this time? And what would he end up giving her in return?

Crossing the street, Lacey let the thoughts warm her. What would dinner be like at Mr. Gold’s home? What would they talk about? How long could they keep talking before animal passions took over them both? Lacey imagined herself stripping him down, pushing off his suit coat, pulling him down by his tie and unbuckling his belt while he did the same to her. His hands would be everywhere as he tore at her clothes, as he took off her--as he pulled up her--

Lacey stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the sidewalk.

Shit.

What the hell was she going to wear?

#courtship #rumbelle #golden lace #rumbelle fic #golden lace fic

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