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redfoxwritesstuff · 3 years ago

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The Offering (Part 1- Offered and taken)

AKA: The Merdicking as my friends have known it

AN: Look- This is @dangertoozmanykids101‘s fault, okay? And this is a two part, very late, Christmas gift to one of my favorite readers and a all around pretty fucking awesome friend. Also, shout out to @just-the-hiddles who was a surprising resource for merdicks. Part two will include smut

I don’t hold my writing hostage for comments, reblogs or believe in guilt tripping readers for interaction. I’m a work from home mother and author, currently working on my first proper books and selling my crafts. Feel free to support the insanity by buying me a ko-fi or reaching out to make sure I’ve eaten today (I have food, I just tend to forget to feed myself…)

Pairing: Merman Tom Hiddleston x OFC Rated: Mature, XxX, Adults only

Chapter Summary: Selena was a good girl whom minded her spirituality well. She studied the holy texts, she attended the holy meetings and bent her life to the will of the Gods and their priests. If women could be chosen to work within the God's organization, she would have dedicated her life to them. But for as good as she was, for as much as she minded where her eye and mind traveled, she was unwed. Dedicated though she was to protecting her purity, even from her own hand, she had not wed a man to give herself to. And now she was to be punished as a sinner.

Series Warnings: Merdicks (physically and a bit in personality), MermanTom, Nonconsensual touching of female reproductive bits, purity culture, intended human sacrifice aka planned murder, Kidnapping, human/merman sexual intercourse, nonconsensual sexual touching, nonconsensual nudity, nonconsensual kissing moving into dubious consent. Dubious consent to sex.

Look, she’s having a religious crisis of morals- her consent flip flops, not that the merdick gives a fuck. In reality, this would be rape but this isn’t reality because in reality none of us horny fuckers are fucking mermen.

Funding Kit!

Kofi and Cashtag: $leeanneduyn (please never call me Leeanne- I hate my name)-

All donations and Kofi purchased and sent my way will go toward paying down my student loan debt. If every follower were to donate even just 75 cents, I could make my monthly payment when it resumes. I don’t expect nor hope for every follower to donate. But as the USA government won’t follow through on student loan forgiveness, I’m not above asking for help as this is a debt I was forced to take on by my abusive ex-husband. Personally, I just paid off my AC unit and dropped $300 on my credit cards so know that I’m not begging without doing things myself.

Current balance as of 1/15/22: $45,639.83

The Offering

Selena was one of five unwed women standing in the center of the village. The men and women she had spent the whole of her life with new looked on. The dirt under her bare feet was too warm with the heat of an unrelenting summer.

The priest stood in front of the temple, looking down upon the women he had tried and failed to pair up over the years. The men within the village and from outside had failed to wed these women for years.

The oldest of the women was well into her forties and the youngest was just stepping out of her teens. Selena was nearly between the two, gracing the twenty-seventh summer of her life.

Unwed women were looked at with mistrust within the village. Like other villages, her neighbors feared that she was willingly unwed and housed the demon of sexuality. They feared that the unwed women would and were luring men, often married to their beds.

Now they stood in the center of the village while the priest passed judgment on them. Their list of supposed sins was long and full of crimes Selena know she was innocent of. She’d not laid with any man, married or not. For all of her adult life, she kept herself pure for her future husband.

“The sinners have driven away the rain!” The priest bellowed, holding a bag within his hands. “Now, we must identify the one or ones who have brought shame and drought upon our people. Within this bag are stones. Many stones marked white for the purity of a virgin. Each woman will prove her purity by drawing a white stone. Should be black in her hands, her sin will be exposed!”

Selena sighed and relaxed a fraction. She was innocent. She was pure. She’d not even touched herself, let alone been touched by another. She observed to commandments of modesty and did not defile her eyes by gazing upon the bodies of men, even when they wore shirts.

Each of the women before her pulled a white stone. Even the women Selena knew to let their eyes linger upon the forms of men and had shared kisses with some pulled out white stones.

When the bag was in front of her, she confidently reached in and wrapped her thin fingers around a cold stone. Wind gusted, blowing her dark brown waves around her. Dust wafted around in clouds and beat small pebbles against the wooden buildings around them.

The wind felt wrong, like an omen. The thought was out of her mind as quick as it had entered. She didn’t believe in omens for men or women. Omens belonged to the gods and their priests.

“Show us your stone.” He commanded, as he had for each woman before her.

Palm up, she uncurled her hand confidently with her head held high. She knew she was pure. She new she was innocent.

A hush settled over the clearing. The priest remained in front of her rather than moving on. Something wasn’t right. Looking at her palm, she found why.

Sitting in the delicate cup of her palm was a black stone. “No. I- No. I’m innocent.”

“Kneel and wait.” The priest ordered.

Her knees gave out on command, landing hard on the ground. It didn’t make sense. She was innocent. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

Questions swam fleetingly in her mind as one by one, the other women pulled out white stones. Only she had pulled out a black stone. The priest said words, things that she couldn’t comprehend. An offering to the gods of the sea needed to be made. They needed to be pleased to bring back the rains that the sinful one had chased away.

Rough hands grabbed her. Fingers dug into her arms as she was pulled to her feet. Panic ate at her like a caged rat. Though she struggled, she couldn’t free herself. Her feet dragged along the ground. She kicked and scratched. Screams and pleading words fell from her mouth. Again and again, she declared her innocence only to be ignored.

She was walked through the village as the afternoon grew long. The men and women fed on the fever of the priest’s words. The energy within the group grew. They shoved her father aside. The force of it sent him to the ground, head bouncing off the packed dirt. Thank the gods, if there were any, that there wasn’t blood.

He should be okay, that was good. Perhaps there were gods after all.

She didn’t have time to dwell on the blasphemous thoughts as she was roughly pushed and pulled along. The tide was low, near its lowest point. The glittering blue waves in the distance had been a source of comfort.

Now, as she was dragged down the beach, she found no such comfort. Tripping and falling, she was pulled along as if a sack of potatoes. A kick to her ribs sent her rolling down the cool sand. They pulled her to the shell of a boat, haul breached beyond repair and left to rot on the beach.

“Drag that down,” The priest ordered “Below tide line. Use the ropes.”

“What are you doing?” She shrieked as the haul was pulled closer to the water’s edge.

It was a recently discarded boat, still clearly solid. She cried as she watched, fear clawing at her. The panic rat was free and running in her mind. She was innocent. Pure. This couldn’t be happening to her. The gods would not let this happen to her. They couldn’t. If this happened, there were no gods. There couldn’t be.

“We will sacrifice her to the gods of the sea.” The priest’s booming voice called out over the gathered people as she was yanked to her feet and turned to face them.

“I’m innocent.” The wailing plea was ignored even as she cried it over and over.

“She will be claimed by the tide and the sea will wash away the sins. We will have rain and the blessings of the gods once more.”

People watched as men dragged her to the haul of the boat. The priest prayed over her as her hands were bound on either side of the stern of the boat. Her arms were spread wide and her shoulders ached.

The priest ushered the villagers back with orders to ignore her screams and pleas in the night. The people where told that it would be the forces of evil trying to call them to her. They couldn’t leave her there. The tide would come and drown her in the night. They couldn’t. They wouldn’t.

The few men that remained stood back and leered at her, admiring their work. In her struggle, the ties holding the bodice of her dress cinched had come undone. Shame colored her cheeks men gazed upon the flesh that was exposed by the untied neck of her dress. The tie in the back had remained fastened and her breasts were not exposed.

While her modesty was still protected, her chest and the upper swells of her breasts were always covered. She dressed in a way as to keep modest and not defraud the men around her. Her face was to be the source of attention, not her body as he body was god’s gift to her husband when she were to marry.

Now, men were gazing on her exposed upper chest. They admired how her dress had bunched up around her knees from her struggles. Lewd comments passed between them as they expressed their regret that for all the beds she must have shared, she had never visited theirs.

“I’m innocent.” Weeping. Somehow there were still tears to shed. “I’m pure.”

Kneeling down, Chis ran his hand up her leg. She kicked at him, trying to force him away.

Why were they behaving like this? She’d thought she’d perhaps marry one of these men one day and now they where acting darkly. Surely they couldn’t be taken over with sin, they worked with the priest.

“Please.” She begged, “Let me go. Please?”

“Maybe if you make it worth our time.” Matthew said, stepping up close to her.

“What?” She choked on the word, hope flared in her but died out quickly.

Matthew was rubbing the crotch of his pants. There was a bulge as he grew stiff. She knew what it was, she’d cared for babies before. She wasn’t naive of what men had between their legs though she’d never seen a man’s.

Clattering filled the beach as Chris worked his belt free. “Maybe if you suck us off. Use your dirty sinner’s mouth on us, we’ll let you go.”

“No.” The panic clawed at her anew.

“Maybe let us all paint your tits with our cum.” Matthew added, undoing his belt.

“Boys!” The booming voice the priest carried over the sand. “It’s growing late! Leave her lest she draw you to sin.”

“Damn it.” Chris ground his teeth as he refastened his belt.

“He’s not going to leave without us.” Matthew kicked sand in her face as he accepted that he wouldn’t have her lips around his cock.

Kneeling down, Chris hooked a finger in the bodice of her dress and pulled it further open. It hung gaping now, exposing more of the valley between her full breasts. “She’s got great tits, oh well.”

They left her on the beach. Fear kept her from calling out as the sun began its rapid decent in the sky. There was no way to know if whomever answered her calls would save her or hurt her.

Instead, she closed her eyes and prayed. She prayed that her gods would send someone to save her. She prayed that the priest would realize his mistake. While she prayed, she listened to the steady lapping of the waves as the tide crept closer and closer. Lastly, she prayed that god would stop the very tide.

The sun gave up the sky and she gave up her prayers. There was no god, she decided as the waves lapped at her heel. This was how she was to die.

A splash in the distance caught her attention. Perhaps dolphins had come to entertain her? She couldn’t make out what it was in the darkness but she watched as the large figure breached the surface here and there. Was there one or a school of them? She didn’t know.

“I don’t want to die.” She whimpered as the water soaked her skirts and kissed her knees. Closing her eyes, she repeated the phrase again and again as she listened to the splashing of the creature. “I don’t want to die.”

“Why must you die?” A rich baritone asked, jerking her from her chanted attempts at calming herself.

A man with sun kissed sin asked, sitting ten feet beyond where she sat. He wore no shirt and seemed to not be bothered by the cold of the sea.

“Who are you?”

“If you do not wish to die, why must you die?” The man asked again. His voice was melodic and haunting over the waves.

“For sins I did not commit.” It was safer to look at the waves than this shirtless man. She’d been pure until now, she would not defile herself. “Please, untie me? Let me go?”

“Do you regret not committing these sins?” He asked instead, cocking his head. Her eyes darted to him and away, desperately trying to avoid looking at him while not wanting to disrespect the man that could very well save her.

“I don’t know.” It hurt to admit it.

“Why do you not look at me?” He asked. The question made her do so. She watched as he pulled himself further up the beach, exposing his abdomen in greater detail.

“You’ve got no shirt on.” The reason felt dumb on her lips. She couldn’t help taking in the defined muscles of his chest and torso. The pleasure of a man was unknown to her.

“I’ve no need for such things.” The words made no sense in her mind.

“Please, untie me?” She urged again, repeating herself as waves lapped over her knees.

“What did they wish to accomplish, sending you to die?” The questions were maddening and she began to sob anew.

“An offering to the sea gods, for rain.”

“And what are these supposed sea gods?” He was closer now.

“Gods.” She answered, trying to keep her eyes to his handsome face. Moonlight reflected off the water and danced in his eyes. “Bodies of man with the tail of fish. They control the water. Please, let me go?”

“And these humans thought to drown our gift?”

“What?” The man was near her feet now, stretched out in the water, holding his upper torso above the lapping waves with his elbows.

A cold hand caressed her foot under the cover of the water. Long fingers trailed up her calf as choked on sobs.

“You’re pretty when you’re choking.” He remarked as he traced his fingers over a knee.

As she struggled to calm her sobs, there was a splash not far in front of her. Perhaps he was standing up, going to untie her. Perhaps he was just kicking his feet. Her eyes were open when the splash sounded again.

The surface of the water a few feet beyond where she would have expected his feet to be was broken by a wide flat fin. It was dark as night and glittered in the moonlight.

“You’re a god.” She whimpered. What did this mean?

“I am no god.” he pulled himself up higher on the beach. Through the waves, she could see where tan skin transitioned to give way to scales. “But perhaps I can be your god.”

What did that even mean?

“Please untie me.” She tried again, looking over to where he sat to her side. He was nearly looming over her.

“But are you not an offering? Am I not to take you?” He mused, running the hand not supporting his weight from her knee up onto her thigh.

Never had she been touched this way. “I don’t want to die.”

“I never said I’d kill you. But you’ve been offered to me, should I not get to do with you what I wish?”

“What?” Squirming under his hand, she struggled to understand.

Fingers trailed higher up her thigh until the sopping skirts of her dress became an obstruction. Then they moved up to her neck. Tracing the long line of her neck and down he ignored her whimpering pleas as he explored. Cold fingers trailed over her exposed clavicle and where her bodice rested against her breasts.

“I’ve never had a pet human.” He whispered. “Never even been close to one.”

“Let me go.”

“Perhaps when I’m done with you.” He murmured as he leaned into her. She could feel his lips moving against her neck as he spoke.

“You’ve got no gills here.” As he spoke, he peppered soft kisses behind her ear and down below her jaw. “To only be able to breath the air, how fascinating. So similar and yet so different to our women.”

He cupped her breast with a large wet hand and she cried harder in her fear. “These are the same but yours are softer, warmer.”

His hand left her breast but the thin fabric of her summer dress clung to it, revealing the shape she had so tried to hide. The hand moved to her knee and again traced up.

“Your kind wear so much garments. So much to hid your form. It leaves us with many questions. How far do your legs remain split? How do they join? I have many questions.”

“Thomas!” A voice from deeper in the water called out. Another one of him, surely. “You should not linger at the shore.”

“I’ll do as I please.”

“Your curiosity will get you killed.” The fish man said before turning.

“I’ll die satisfied than.” There was a dark promise in those words as the other man left in a splash.

“What are you going to do to me? What does that mean?” She thrashed against the boat, renewing efforts to try and free her hands. “Let me go.”

“I very much crave learning.” The almost man said. “You will teach me much.”

“Thomas,” Perhaps if she used his name, he would let her go. “Please. You don’t want to hurt me. Let me go?”

“Whomever said I would hurt you?” He mused, pushing her skirts up around her thighs.

“You’ll hurt me spiritually.” She tired, “If you keep touching me like this, you’ll hurt my soul.”

“I care not for things that are not real.” He spoke ignorant to the fact that he was a thing many would have said was not real.

“And yet you wear more garments?” He mused as his fingers found her simple panties under her dress. “The female’s legs go just as far as the males. See, you’re already teaching me so much.”

Holding her thighs together, she tried to ignore his probing hand. Careful caresses spread out over her hips and lower stomach.

“I wish to know more.” Fingers hooked under the bands and he sliced the fabric with a sharp nail as if it were nothing at all.

She was scared now, not of drowning but of the sea demon who tormented her. Shaking with fear, she closed her eyes as he caressed the curls at her mound. No one had touched her there since she was a babe unable to clean herself.

“I wish to see it.”

Strong hands yanked her down the beach. Her arms stretched out against the boat. There was a crack as her head hit the wooden surface but Thomas paid it no mind. The position he dragged her into was rather uncomfortable.

The knock to the head left her dazed for a few seconds. That was all the time he needed to bunch her skirts up higher. She was exposed to the world before she could so much as fight back.

He settled his torso between her legs, holding them apart with strength she was unable to fight against. She prayed the darkness would give her some modesty.

“Absolutely fascinating.” Her hope was killed as she realized with great dread that his vision at night was not lacking.

Hands trailed up her thighs as he pushed them apart. Warm breath puffed against her cold wet skin as he spread her wide. Shame burned at her ears as his face drew closer to where her legs met.

Cold sea water lapped against her exposed skin and she wished for nothing more than to drown in that water.

“I wonder.” He said to himself as he traced her lower lips. He ran his fingertip down them and she squirmed. “Be still, you wouldn’t want me to cut you.”

She stilled as he demanded. The pad of his index finger pulled and explored the folds of her lips before moving further down. She felt him poke at her rectum and cried out in shame.

“That must be where waste exits… is that correct?” Looking up to her, he waited for answer.

“Yes.” She mumbled before renewing her whimpering.

“So this…” He trailed off as his finger traced the folds of her lips once again, “is all what, decoration for your mating opening?”

“I-” She cried out as his fingertip rested at her vaginal opening. “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I don’t- I don’t really know.”

“You do not know how your mating parts function?” He looked truly confused. “Have you not touched them? Used them?”

“No, not really. They’re not mine.”

“Not yours?” He looked down at her folds spread wide. “They appear to belong to your body, do they not?”

“They are for my husband when we marry.”

“You ignore your mating parts until you mate?” He laughed and damned if it wasn’t an alluring sound. “How would one enjoy mating if you’ve not found how to bring yourself pleasure?”

“That’s wrong.” She said, once again trying to close her legs without success. “It’s wrong to look at someone like this. Its wrong to touch your- your parts. It’s only for marriage and to make children.”

“Why?” Thomas asked, eyes remaining on her neither region as he continued to poke around.

“It’s a sin. It goes against God.” She shuddered as his fingertip ran over the sensitive ball of nerves. Sometimes her undergarments would bunch up and brush against it making her aware of it but she had resisted the urge to caress it. Now, he caressed it in his exploration.

“Why would a God give you these things and not let you use them?” He asked, watching her as his fingers caressed over the nub at the top of her folds and circled the mating opening he had found.

It was small and tight. He had seen the human male’s mating appendage and he couldn’t figure out how the two fit together. The male’s dangled limply and was rather small. Did it simply place against the opening and deposit seed that way? He’d heard that like his kind, humans mated for pleasure and he couldn’t imagine that being very pleasurable.

“Do humans get pleasure from the mating act?” He asked, eyes full of questions.

“I- I told you, I’m pure. I’ve never done it… But yes. We’re given by God the privilege of making our children in a bed of pleasure.”

“How?” His eyes went back to her exposed flesh.

“I don’t- I-” She stammered now. For most of her life she had intentionally avoided the thoughts of coupling to keep her mind and body pure. “I- Um. Men put their… thing… inside and that makes the baby.”

“How?” Again he asked, rubbing his fingers over the nub at the top of her folds. “I’ve seen your males. They’re rather flexible and floppy.”

Shifting, she tried to get away from the stroking fingertip. It felt strange and oddly pleasurable but such was sin. “They… Their thing gets… stiff?”

“I see.” Thomas said. “So it goes inside.”

“Please, stop touching me. Let me go. The water’s getting higher.” Her neck was hurting and her shoulders ached. The tears came and went as she tried to keep the panic in check.

“What is this for?” He asked, rubbing the bundle of nerves with more focus.

She gasped at the sensation, trying to scoot away from the hand only to be held in place by a hand on her thigh. “I- I don’t know.”

“Your kind is strange, to not know your own mating functions. It’s amazing you manage to reproduce at all.”

“Please let me go.” The begging had started again.

“But I’m not done learning about you.” Water was pooling around her lower back now. Higher and higher. “It appears that rubbing it gives you pleasure. You react to it different than when I rub elsewhere.”

“Please.” He ignored her and kept rubbing. It felt strange. There was a sharp pleasure to it and she hated herself for noticing it. This was wrong. He was touching what belonged to her future husband.

“This is interesting.”

“What?”

His fingertip left the bundle of nerves and stroked down to her opening. Attempts to move away did her no good with his impossibly strong grip on her thigh. The tip swirled around the opening before he held it up for her to see.

“Your kind produce a slick, were you aware?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer before continuing. He’d largely given up on the thought that she would be able to verbally educate him on her body. “Do your males not slick themselves?”

“I- I don’t-”

“You don’t know.” It was clear that her lack of answers was mildly annoying to him and that scared her.

“It seems rubbing that nub releases your slick.” He brought the fingers closer to his face and examined them. Moonlight shined off the slick. She watched as his tongue darted out and wrapped around the digits. It was longer than a human’s tongue and came to a natural point.

“What are you-” The question was lost to sobs as he moaned.

“The slick is sweet.” He observed, returning his fingers to her nub where he again began rubbing. “It’s a pleasant taste. Rather surprising, actually.”

She gasped and cried as her body betrayed her. The longer he rubbed, the better it felt. She hated herself for it and tried to get away from the tormenting finger. It did no good with him holding one leg up and out of the way.

The finger left the nub when she felt like she couldn’t take and more. He stroked down to the opening and gathered slick upon the tip before returning. That made the sensation all the better and she groaned between her tears.

“That feels good?” Looking up, he watched her face.

“Please, let me go.”

“Of course you won’t answer. Your body tells me it does though. Your kind’s desire to not acknowledge your mating parts is idiotic.”

His finger left her nub and traveled down again. She tensed, remembering how his nails had ripped her underclothes like they were nothing. Now the tip of the finger was pushing against her entrance. There was nearly no resistance as the finger slipped in deeper and deeper.

“How deep is your mating channel?” Thomas asked as his finger sank down to the knuckle. “It’s so wet and warm.”

“Just let me go.” She cried.

“How wide can it go?” He asked himself, pulling the finger out and inserting two.

They scissored inside her and she groaned. It felt good in a way she didn’t know how to explain. She knew why this was a sin now. It felt far too good to have outside of marriage.

Abandoning his finger’s place inside her, he pulled himself up higher on the sand. He loomed over her, an imposing sight of muscles. He was forced to let go of her thigh in order to support himself above her.

She could feel the scales where his waist gave way to hips and transitioned to tail. It was as firm and muscled as the rest of him appeared to be, though she had no desire to touch any of him.

“Let me go. Please? The water is getting higher. You don’t have to do this to me.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” He said simply as he rinsed the sand from his hand. “I wish to. I’ve been fascinated with your kind for my whole life and now I can learn all I wanted to of you.”

He hooked a finger under the top of her bodice and pulled. There was no more give due to the rest of the dress being tied in the back. She was thankful for it keeping at least some of her modesty.

That didn’t last for long as he cut through the fabric with his nail. It ripped with ease and the idea that his nails had been inside her brought fresh terror. He pulled at it, doing away with the last big of modesty she had.

Until that moment, no one had seen her breasts except her. She had maintained her modesty since she was a child. Now, this almost man examined her curiously and he once again stole from her what should have been saved for a husband.

His hand was large as it cupped her breast. Part of her wondered what his assessment of them would be. Most of her wanted his hand off of her and for him to untie her and leave. Part of her wanted him to just leave her to drown if it meant that he stopped chipping away at what was left of her innocence.

Cold fingers caressed the swell of her breasts. Her nipple tightened into a peak under his caresses. She could understand the temptation of a man’s touch now. It felt nice. This was why it was a sin.

“They’re similar to our female’s.” Thomas began vocalizing his analysis. “Ours are smaller though. Firmer and less rounded. Your nipples are larger.”

“Please.”

His fingers worked into the tender swell. Her nipple relaxed with his hand protecting it from the cold sea breeze.

“Interesting.” He drew his face closer to her chest. She again struggled to put distance between them fruitlessly.

“Your nipples relax nearly flat but with stimulation they tighten. Fascinating.” He pinched them, drawing a gasp out of her. “Sensitive too.”

Leaning forward, he licked the swell of her breast in a long lapping stroke from the underside up, caressing over her nipple in the process. It felt good and she knew it was wrong.

“Your skin is salty, like water. Tastes like home.” That strangely long pointed tongue curled around her nipple. She arched into it even as she tried to scoot away. “Your skin tastes good but not as good as your slick.” The words brought the shame back. “Why do you make such a face?”

“This is wrong.”

“Because your imaginary god said so?” He scoffed and pushed himself back.

The tide had come further in, granting him more mobility as the water pooled around him. He slipped down her body, ripping at the length of her dress on his way. As his torso settled again between her thighs, he had the dress ripped open from top to bottom. The sleeves hung from her arms and shoulders.

“From here,” His fingers caressed a point high on her hips before moving down. “you’re different. You’re split where we remain one.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” She was crying again.

“Curiosity.” He answered simply.

Maybe if she kept him talking, he wouldn’t start touching her again. “Are all your kind so fascinated with us?”

He drew closer to her core. It seemed to be where he was most interested in. “No. Your kind are taboo. Forbidden to touch and keep.”

“To keep?”

He didn’t answer her question. Instead, he leaned forward, closer to her core. She squirmed and he grabbed one leg and once again pushed it up and opened her. There was nothing she could to do drive him away with her one free leg.

She was helpless as his nose drew closer to her. “You smell so good.”

“You can untie me. Please, just untie me and let me go.”

Leaning forward, the long tongue darted out. He licked his lips before closing the distance. A deep rumble spilled from him and vibrated through his lips as he took the nub near the top of her slit. He sucked and licked at it.

Waves lapped up his back, rolling down his shoulders and wetting the hair that had been drying to what could have been a honeyed brown. He paid the water no mind when it surged over the crest of his head.

He didn’t react to the water dripping down his face. He didn’t swipe at the water than ran into his eyes. It didn’t bother him in the slightest as his lips worked her body to betrayal.

“Yes,” He murmured as he slipped two fingers carefully inside her. “This appears to bring you great pleasure.”

“Please, the water. It’s getting higher.”

Instead of acknowledging her words, he removed his fingers and ducked his head lower still. The long wetness of his tongue lapped at her from opening to nub. Again, a deep rumble passed from his lips, almost as if a purr.

The point of his tongue warmed into her opening. The feeling was indescribable. His fingertip found her nub and rubbed at it.

Breath caught in her throat as he worked her over. Gasps slipped from between her lips as a pleasure she had never experienced grew inside her. Was this why women sinned?

“You grow slicker the longer I touch.”

“Does your kind do this to each other?” She questioned in hopes of distracting him as the feeling dulled with the interrupted contact as he stopped to speak.

“Not commonly, no.” He lapped at her opening again before continuing. “Our females do not produce slick in this amount and our mating organs do not taste pleasing.”

Deep in the back of her mind, she wondered what theirs tasted like. Instantly, she shut that thought down. That was the thought of a sinner.

“Why are you doing it to me?”

He chuckled, “Because you seem to enjoy it.”

“Why are you doing this?” The water was growing higher, caressing her middle. “Why wont you let me go?”

“You as repetitive questions.” He said as he pulled himself up her body. “Trying to distract yourself from the body’s call for mating pleasure?”

He was right but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Tell me, how do your kind show affection?”

“Please, just let me go.”

“Answer my questions.” He demanded and she knew she had no choice if she wanted to live. Even if she did, would he untie her or touch her as she drowned?

“W- We hold hands. We kiss.”

“What is it to kiss?”

“It is- We put our lips together, against the other’s. And when we’ve found our partner, we move them.”

His weight settled against here. She could feel the slick scales press against her core and his hips pressing her into the sand. He lowered himself to her, carefully. Closer and closer his face got to hers before it bumped into the haul of the ship.

With a growl, he reached up and yanked onto the rope around her wrist. With strength that far surpassed a human’s, it snapped near the end.

With one of her arms freed, he pushed the ship out of his way. It felt good to have the pressure off her neck as she straightened it. She drew the freed arm to her but she had no space between them to cradle it. The shoulder joint ached.

“Now, where was I?” He mused, giving her his full attention. “Oh yes, this kiss thing.”

“You want to kiss me?” She tried to scoot away but the wait of him on her pelvis pinned her in place. “Why?”

“To learn.” He said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “Why? Have you not done this thing either?”

“No… No, I’m pure. I’ve never kissed a man. I- I, please.”

“Affection sharing can be done independent of the mating act, no?”

“Not between grown men and women.” Tears ran down her cheeks but her sobs had calmed for the moment.

“Why?” His face drew closer and she tried not to admire his high cheek bones or stormy blue eyes.

He was hurting her spiritually but he hadn’t hurt her physically and that helped ease her fear slightly. Did hurting her spiritually even matter? She was innocent yet sacrificed as if guilty. If the gods were real, why would they do this to her? Allow it to be done to her?

On the other side of the coin, what if it was a test? What if all of this was a test by the Gods to see if her faith would crack? But wasn’t he everything she was told all her life that the sea gods were? Could she sin with a God? If a God was the one touching her, did it make her unclean?

“Between men and women,” She started, trying to stop her tears “It is a promise of intimacy.”

“But it is just an action of affection?”

“All affection is…” He chuckled.

“It’s amazing humans number the land as they do. By your standards, you’d never make it to the mating act.” His face lowered carefully toward hers’.

Air caught in her throat as his breath washed over her. She expected it to smell fishy but it smelled much like the sea itself. He hesitated as their noses brushed against each other. Tilting his head, he figured out how to fit the faces together.

His lips were warm against hers’ as they brushed. “Like this?”

“I don’t…”

Her words were cut off as he pressed his lips tighter against hers. It felt good and that scared her. She didn’t know what to do with her free arm. It laid against the sand. The water pooled at the small of her back and lapped at the ends of her hair.

She moved her lips against his, surrendering to the chaste kiss. He mumbled a sound that could have been ‘oh’ and followed her lead, pressing his lips to hers and lightly trapping the lower lip between his again and again.

Insanity replaced the panic rat in her mind, at least for the moment and her arm rose. For the first time, she reached out and touched him, running her hand up the arm. It was lean and firm. The skin was soft and felt like it was stretched over steel.

His shoulder was just as firm under her hand. Every part of him felt like smooth steel but his lips were soft against hers. She cupped the back of his neck in her palm as she moved her lips more intently against his, deepening the chaste kiss.

She should have pushed him away. Running her hand down his neck, she tried to convince herself to do so. When her hand rested against his chest, she couldn’t convince herself to actually do so.

Leaning her head up, she darted her tongue out from between her lips. She had intended to lick his kiss of her lips but her mind was clouded and she failed to break contact first.

It shocked her when her tongue made contact with his lip. It tasted of salt as he kissed her. She’d seen her father and mother kiss with their mouths open when she was a child, before her mother died.

“Do your kind taste each other's mouths?” The words were soft against her lips but they broke the spell she had fallen under.

Her head settled against the sand again only to realize the soft waves were reaching up to her neck.

“Sometimes.” His heart thumped under her hand in a steady rhythm. “I’ve never but I know it’s done between husband and wives. The water, it’s getting higher?”

“There is time yet.” He said as if the water wouldn’t eventually drown her. “I wish to experience that kiss. Will you let me taste you?”

She knew he wasn’t really asking. He hadn’t asked before tasting her folds or her juices. There was no thought spared to if she waned him to taste her skin. But as she yielded to him now, he was somehow softer with her.

“If it means you’ll let me free.”

“In good time.” He leaned down to kiss her again but hesitated. “Did I do it right?”

“I think so.” She offered, not knowing what to say. It had felt nice to be kissed by him but if that was how it was to be done or not, she was just as inexperienced as he. “We usually close our eyes.”

He hummed and the sound was soothing. Leaning down, slowly he closed his eyes as his lips connected with hers again. He lead the kiss with more confidence. His weight settled more on her as he moved from supporting himself with his palms to resting on his elbows. It was shocking, having his so human appearing torso lower against her naked skin.

Her hand ran along his chest and sides. If he could explore her, why should she not get to touch him before she died? It was something no one else would have experienced.

“Your caress feels lovely.” He murmured into her lips.

Shifting his weight onto one arm, his large hand gripped her side. She gasped as his thumb swept under the swell of her breast still taught with her arm stretched up by the rope connected to the boat.

Down it moved, indifferent to the water rising along her side as he caressed the soft skin. She gasped when the hand returned to cup her breast and his pointed tongue slipped between his lips and into hers.

His tongue was far more dexterous than hers as he caressed the inside of her mouth. Deeper, he explored until he felt her chest shudder as she suppressed the gagging cough.

“Too much.” He whispered and she nodded. “Your tongues are different, rounded and contained.”

She didn’t have a chance to comment on his observation though. He was quick to return to kissing her deeply. His tongue tasted of salt and moonlight, though if ever asked she would never be able to describe such a taste.

Under her hand, she could feel the slow thump of his heart. It was a struggle to maintain clear thought as his hand massaged her breast. As he breathed, the weight of him against her pelvis and core would shift. It created a sensation that she struggled to ignore.

Water now kissed at the base of her skull, reminding her of the reality of where she was. This wasn’t her wedding bed and it wasn’t just a man plundering her of her fist kiss. She was on a beach, dress in tatters under her and the tide rising to swallow her.

“The water.” She pulled her lips from his, turning her head away to buy distance. She could feel a trail of saliva between maintaining a connection between them for a moment longer.

“The water is home.” He said, nuzzling into her neck. “The water is safety.”

“The water will kill me.” She reminded him. Breath hitched in her chest as he peppered kisses along her neck.

“Do your kind show affection this way?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re enjoying the acts of affection?” He looked up at her. The gentle waves were soaking her hair and pushing their tendrils beyond her head. “Speak true.”

“Yes.” Shame burned at her face and she knew she should cry.

“What of your gods, are they not shamed by that?”

“I- I was taught the sea god would look much like you. Perhaps you are the sea god and just don’t know it.” It was a desperate thing to cling to but she needed to soothe her shame.

“So then, I can give you pleasure and take pleasure from you?” He asked.

“I don’t know what that means.” Tears leaked from her eyes as a sallow wave caused the water to swell over her stomach and lap between her breasts.

“I may give you affection.” He nuzzled her neck and kissed down her chest to the swell of her breasts. “I may touch your breasts.”

With his weight on her pelvis, she was sinking into the sand as the water made it unsteady. Small waves lapped at the underside of her breasts.

“The water is getting too high.” He had a nipple in his mouth, suckling it harshly. “Please.”

With a sign, he let the pebble of her nipple free. Strong arms pulled him up her torso again and she tried to ignore how the smooth uninterrupted length of his abdomen and tail rubbed against her core.

He kissed her deeply, not waiting long at all to slip his tongue inside her mouth. She returned the kiss but wondered if this was how she was going to die.

Reaching up, he grabbed the rope just above her hand and pulled. The haul of the boat dragged down the sand with a creak before the rope gave out.

She cried in relief. Her arm and shoulder ached from the tension it had been under for so many hours.

She was freed from the boat and just in time. A wave, only slightly bigger than the rest surged over his back and around her. Water dripped down onto her face and panic told her she would still drown.

Pushing against him, she prayed to sit up and feared that he wouldn’t let her.

He pulled back and pushed himself up onto his palms. He watched as her breasts moved, shape changing slightly as her arms were freed from their place over her head. In an effort to ensure she wouldn’t have more water in her face, she pushed herself up onto her elbows.

As she did, he gave her more room. Swiftly, he pulled himself over to her side. Keen eyes watched her body as she sat up. His tail was draped over one leg, heavier than she could have ever guessed.

Selena tried to pull her dress closed around her torso as is eyes crawled over her. “Thank you.”

“If you drown, my learning would end.” He spoke matter-of-factually.

“What?” She tried to pull her leg out from under his tail and couldn’t.

Reaching out, he yanked the cloth from the back of her shoulders. It burned as the wet sleeves caught on her arms. Grabbing her arm, he wrestled the sopping material off while she tried to cover her breasts with the other arm.

His hand, large and strong pushed her efforts aside as if they were nothing and began caressing her breasts.

“They’re softer like this. Heavy too. Do they not pain you without the water to take the weight of them?”

“No, not most of the time.”

“Come into the sea with me?” The question caught her off guard.

“I can’t breath under water, I’d drown.”

“If you stay here, your people will do what? Find a new boat to tie you to?”

She had opened her mouth to protest but his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her to him as if she weighed nothing at all. He dragged her through the water, deeper into the lapping waves and the panic that she had thought she put behind her ran anew.

“What are you doing?” He didn’t answer.

She kicked and scratched at him though it didn’t even mar his skin. As he completed turning around, she saw the reality she had so easily forgotten as it broke the surface.

Feet beyond where his feet would have stopped if he had been a man, the slimming tail gave way to a large fanned fin. It rose up out of the water, a large and looming reality that though for a moment she had felt safe, she was not.

Crashing down with amazing force, it slapped the water with a loud boom. The water wasn’t very deep but the force of it still assisted him in pushing them deeper.

A scream tore through her very being only to be cut off by a swell of water crashing over their heads. Coughing, sputtering and gasping, she clung to him on reflex alone.

She fought to try and push herself higher above the waves but he held her firmly to him as he pushed along the sand. They were going deeper and deeper by the second. Every time he head was above the water, she gasped and coughed. There wasn’t enough

time to scream or fill her lungs.

He dove forward, launching them through a slightly larger wave as if it was nothing. For him, it was nothing. In what felt like a lifetime and a somehow also just a matter of seconds, the sandy ground fell from under her feet.

~~~~~<3

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forthechubbies · 4 years ago

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What's Wrong With Secretary Park?!

Synopsis• If balancing work and a stubborn ex-husband isn't hard enough, Let's add the boss’s seven sons falling head over heels for her to mix.

Category's• Romcon, Comedy, Office Au.

Duos• BTS X Reader

A spin-off of the original series ‘ What's Wrong With Secretary Kim’ Bangtan Edition! Starring the Handsome, Seo-Joon Park as the Ex husband.

There will be more parts but I didn’t want the title to be to long.

EP. One Two

“ Mrs. Park, Good Morning!”

“Mrs. Park, What does my schedule look like today?”

“Mrs. Park, Your coffee keeps me alive.”

In case you haven’t noticed, Park Yn, I’m the secretary to Jeon Sung-ho, the CEO of Dnd Parmatech, 85 percent of the time, newly build hospitals or centers use our funds as kickstarts. Daily I make schedules, appointments, filing documents, answering calls, and blah blah blah.

Is it boring? Yes, I know. However, quite refreshing coming from my hectic marriage. Once upon a time, I was wedded to the marvelous actor Park Seo-Joon for three years. I sat in the limelight and even had the privilege to play the part of his wife in movies. Sigh. Although the attention and riches were grand, no amount of expensive counseling could save our marriage. We never saw eye to eye on anything, and his short temper wasn’t helping.

Knowing my worth, I packed up and left without a doubt in my head. However, The documentation of our separation wasn’t finalized due to a certain one refusing to sign off on the divorce agreement. So physically, I’m still Mrs. Park but ain’t no piece of paper telling who I belong too.

Whatever! I have too much to focus on already! Game on, Game on! First, I got to get these papers approved and signed by Mr. Jeon then-

Buzz Buzz Buzz!

Who’s calling-

Speak of the devil. I could have sworn I deleted his contact a long time ago! “ What Seo-Joon? I’m busy-“

“ When is this little temper tantrum going to end? Darling, I think you made your point.”

“My point?! Listen here, You slimy son of-” Now, Now Yn calm down calm down don’t let him get a rise out you that just what he wants. A quick exhale should do the trick. “ Seo-Joon, I believe we reached an agreed on no type of communication unless it revolves around the settlement for the divorce.”

How is it possible I can physically see his snarky face?

Seo-Joon stretched out his list of complaints.” It’s been over a year. I miss your kisses, soft skin, that cute birthmark on your-“

“ You will not talk about such embarrassing things over the phone!” Thank goodness, Nobody was around to hear me shot like that.

“Why is this divorce still an issue?!” There goes that temper again-How whinny can one man be? “ If you don’t stop this, I will take matters into my own hands.”

I laughed. “ Ha, Seo-jerk, I’m not scared of you! Do your worst because It doesn’t matter if you drag me back home; it doesn’t subside the problem being over our marriage.” I feel like a broken record at this point. “ If this isn’t about the papers, this conversation is over, Mr. Park; please refrain from calling me again, goodbye.”

He chuckled and mumbled something along the lines of, “ Your cute acting cheeky like this.” The rest he continued louder “ Those delicate hands of yours were made to indulge in the finest silk and satin I can obtain, not working nine to five at whatever job hired a housewife with zero work ethic. I just know I haven’t touched your side of the room since that night- I love you, Mrs.Park, I always will.”

He hung up. You know, after he finished insulting my new lifestyle and calling me a useless housewife, the ‘ I love you’ bit at the end sounds sincere, but he is an actor! Of course.

Hmph! Just because I’m working for myself for one doesn’t mean I’m miserable. I’m actually in love with my job, It pays well with benefits, and I sat on my butt all day. If that pompous little bedazzled turd thinks making me the butt of his jokes will get me back in his arms, he has another thing coming!

“Um, Mrs. Park?”

“ What!” I snapped. “ Oh, Hoseok, I’m sorry!” I bowed my head; the poor thing nearly jumped out of his shoes.

Hoseok beamed his warm heart-shaped smile at me. “ Oppa is having a family meeting today; I guess I’m the first to show.”

I wasn’t informed about a meeting today from Mr.Jeon, maybe because it’s a family affair.

“Tada!” He cutely squeaks. A tasteful package breakfast alongside a tall cup of what I presume is a coffee from..’ Thanks Nature’!

“Oh my- Hobi, this cafe is across town-”

“I overhead Oppa scolding you for skipping meals one day and I’m here to do the same, don’t skip meals or else We will be hurt if something happens to you.” Hoseok pointed at the pack. “ Eat every bit.”

Hoseok displayed a small heart using his index finger and thumb, hopping off to his father’s double doors.

Mr. Jeon has seven sons in all. The man is a true saint; men like him and his sons are why I still believe not all men are dogs. After losing his wife to heart cancer, He just about went bankrupt, donating all he had to have found cures to multiple diseases hoping nobody else had to suffer his same heartbreak.

Love found him again in an orphanage just north of here, ‘Seoul Children Home.’ His first son, Kim Seokjin, at the time Jin was already in his teenage years, making it difficult for him to find a family due to the high demand of couples wanting a single-digit child. His birth family mistreated him, but he was beaten everywhere except his face to keep his handsome appearance. The family decided to put his money-maker to fair use and attempted to sell him. Seokjin saw his opportunity and high-tailed, landing himself in the orphanage where he happily lends a helping hand every chance he got. He learned how to read, write, cook, clean, and even tend to the tots when the nuns were busy.

This is how he met his slightly younger brothers, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, and Kim Namjoon; when being chosen for adoption, Seokjin refused to live without his baby brothers by his side.

“ Hello, Noona!”

Oh, Look just in time, “ Hello, You’re father is in his office.”

Namjoon eyed my edible gift from Hobi and raised his eyebrow as well as a question. “ So this is why Hyung left so early in the morning for-and I hope you’re having a good morning, Noona.”

I’m not older than them. Why do they call me Noona? Do I look old!?

“ Yn, Good morning! How are you!” Jin greeted me with English this morning. He must have been practicing with Namjoon lately.

“ I’m Fine. Seokjin.”

“Chu.” He blew a kiss my way. “ You’re not fine. You’re amazeing.”

“Amazing.” Namjoon corrected for the sidelines.

“Same thing.”

“Pronunciation is everything, Hyung.”

They stopped halfway from their dad’s office. Jin grinned. Wait, I know that smile; oh no, here comes a dad joke.

“ Hey, Namjoon-You know the reason I took the elevator instead of the stairs?”

Namjoon sighed. “ No, why?”

"I don't trust stairs. They're always up to something." Jin burst out laughing and clapped his hands.

I giggled not from the joke, but Jin has a contagious laugh.

“See, Yn has good taste.”

A slow deep groan entered the office belonging to Yoongi, lagging. “ I heard that terrible joke from the elevator.” Yoongi waved and leaned against my desk. “ Good Morning.”

“Good Morning.”

There was an awkward pause before Yoongi tapped my desk and pointed to his dad’s office from walking that way.

“Yoon-Yoongi!?”

He turned back towards me.

“ I have something for you. I packed it up on the way here.” Getting off my butt, I walked up and gave him a bottle of his favorite black ice coffee. Ew. I don’t know how he drinks it with no cream or sugar.

Yoongi smiled his gummy smile. “ Thank you for thinking of me.”

“You’re welcome.” And off he goes into the office as well.

Yoongi isn’t the biggest fan of human interaction, but he put forth an endeavor towards me, whether it’s a light ‘ Hi or Hello” or the simplicity of a wave. I admire his gusto. Sidenote, He’s so adorable-I know I know I shouldn’t be gushing over my boss’s son, but his chubby cheeks and almond eyes melt my heart like butter on toast!

Ahem-I better get back to answering those emails and drink this beautiful cup of expensive mud before it gets lukewarm. Yummy, The delectable taste is a boost of serotonin! I really should get to work buuut Hobi did command me to get every last bit and technically he is my boss through some type of weird relative aspect. He is the boss.

Just in a moment of seconds, The breakfast and drink was trash. Something that good should be sinful. I feel terrible I should have saved some for the babies; they would have some, especially Jungkook.

The babies should be here any minute.

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atlafan · 3 years ago

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Juvenile and Family Law, is it something that a kid dreams of practicing? No, not really. Is that where the big bucks are if you’re not interested in taxes and wills? Yes, it is. College is expensive, and so is law school; gotta pay it off somehow. It takes a while to build your clientele, a lot of it is word of mouth. You work your way up, and slowly but surely, build a good reputation for yourself. And if you’re lucky, you’ll make partner.

Harry Styles is good at his job, and is on the brink of making partner at his firm. Gallagher, Hilson & Associates Family Law is a great place to work. Isaiah Gallagher and Maria Hilson are two incredible lawyers, and the other associates Harry works with aren’t too bad either. He doesn’t always love working nearly sixty hours a week, and some of the cases he handles have caused him to see the bottom of one too many bottles, but other than that, he’s happy.

Family Law means working all kinds of cases. Custody, spousal support, paternity, and divorce. All of those cases are messy, rarely are they clean cut. Harry happens to specialize in divorce, which in turn can lead to all of the other things listed above. What’s worse is that a lot of his clients will often flirt with him, so he’s started to wear a fake wedding band to ward off any and all inappropriate behavior. It doesn’t happen every time, but it was often enough that he decided to find a way to just avoid the unwanted attention.

Due to how many hours he works a week, Harry’s social life is a little lackluster. By the time he gets home work, all he wants to do is kick his shoes off, plop down on the couch with some greasy Chinese food, and catch up on some television. He lives in a nice enough building in the city. His apartment has one bedroom, and one and half baths. On Friday nights, he’ll go out with some of the other associates for a drink, so he gets a bitof social time in. He’s not lonely, he actually quite enjoys the quiet and solitude. He’s got a cat, Gerry, short for Geraldine that he takes care of. He has what he needs, and he’s perfectly content.

Whenever he dates, people always want to talk about his work. The last thing Harry wants to talk about after a long day at work, is more work. So, he sticks to meaningless hookups, and his own hand, when he needs that type of release.

He doesn’t have too much to complain about. He’s thirty, and massively successful. Some of his friends still live at home while working retail jobs, not that he’s judging. He was twenty-six when he moved out, and he’s grateful his parents let him stay rent free so he could save up for his own place. He doesn’t like to compare himself to others, but it makes him feel good to know he’s all set. He works hard, yes, but it’s all worth it.

With how quiet his personal life is, it’s hard to imagine Harry being a shark in the courtroom, but he is. He’s a master in the art of persuasion and rhetoric. Having been a communication major in his undergrad career, and all. He knows how to read a room, and how to read people. The jury is just an audience waiting to watch a live performance. His theater minor also comes in handy here. Being a lawyer is an act, a role he plays. He knows how to play the part when it’s in a large courtroom, or when it’s just a small meeting in a conference room to divide up assets. It’s not always easy, but he makes it look that way. Harry typically wins most of his cases, and when it’s something small, he’s usually able to get his client the majority of what they asked for. Every customer leaves happy.

These skills can’t all be taught and learned. Some people are born with natural talent, skills they learn to hone in on and perfect. It’s a craft that Harry has worked on for years. Again, he’s only thirty, but because he has such precision and talent, it makes him the hot commodity. The office is constantly getting calls for him. It’s why they want him to become the next partner. Having his name on the plaque as you enter would surely put people at ease. Isaiah and Maria saw potential in Harry from the beginning, and they feel lucky that he’s one of their associates.

There other very qualified associates as well, like Niall – who specializes in custody cases – he’s well on his way up. There’s Candice – who specializes in prenuptial agreements – she got into the lawyer game a little later in life, but she’s as sharp as a whip, and shouldn’t be underestimated. And lastly, there’s Byron – who specializes in paternity cases – he thinks he’s going to be the next partner because he’s a bit full of himself.

Harry and Niall are the closest in age, so they hang out more often. They both really like baseball, and will go to a game or two during the season. Candice is the surrogate mother figure. She has no children of her own, she’s the fun aunt to her nieces and nephews, but she feels oddly maternal towards Harry and Niall. The boys often call her “Ma”, instead of her actual name, and she loves it. She looks out for them, and there when they need someone to listen. She’s fifty-seven, and enjoys baking in her free time. She often brings the boys homemade muffins on Monday mornings, and they adore her for it.

Byron…well…Byron is a forty-year-old womanizer who totally clashes with Harry. Does Harry have one-night stands? Yes. Does he ever lie to his partners? No. Byron enjoys playing the game in all facets, and Harry never takes part in it. Needless to say, Harry hates when he has to partner with him on a case, and avoids it when he can.

Isaiah and Maria each have their own executive assistant, or para: Michele and Kyla. They’re both in their late twenties, and rocking it. Harry only interacts with them over email. He, Candice, Niall, and Byron all share the same administrator: Ronnie. Ronnie is twenty-six, friendly, and organized. She doesn’t have time to help everyone on their briefs, but that’s what interns are for, and there’s an abundance of them circling throughout the office.

Harry has a nice office. Plenty of natural light from the windows, he has a desk riser so he can stand up periodically, and he even has his own mini fridge. (He’s often paranoid about people taking his Bubbly, so he just brought in his own fridge.) He’s got a decent enough view of the city; he likes it best at night when the twinkling lights come through. It reminds him of how lucky he is to be where he is in life. He knows he’s more fortunate than others, so he tries to be grateful. He gives back when he’s able, donate to different scholarship funds and whatnot.

Harry is a good man.

On a particularly cloudy morning, Ronnie lets Harry know his 10AM consult has arrived. He didn’t know much about his new potential client, but he was always willing to hear someone out. He stands up from his desk, and waits for the woman to enter.

In walks a young woman wearing an expensive, red pantsuit, black heels, and a dark red lipstick. She gives a soft smile to Ronnie before she closes the door. Harry walks over to her, extending his hand.

“Hi, I’m Harry.”

“Mira.” She shakes his hand.

“Please, have a seat.” He gestures to the two seats on the other side of his desk and they both sit. “What brings you to my office today?”

“I heard you’re a pretty good divorce lawyer, and I need a divorce.”

“Is your spouse aware that you’re seeking counsel?”

“No.” She shakes her head and swallows. “I…I’d be putting myself in danger if he knew I wanted to leave him.”

“What kind of danger? If he’s physically abusive, then you need to- “

“He doesn’t put his hands on me like that. It’s…I don’t love him, and I never have. I was essentially…I was sold to him; it was an arranged marriage. I thought maybe I could learn to like him, to love him, but it’s been three years, and I can’t stand him. I need legal help.”

“What do you mean you were sold to him? Were you a child bride? Were you sex trafficked?”

“No.” She chews on her bottom lip. “He made a deal with my father. Thomas got me in exchange for…something. I can’t get into what exactly with you just yet.”

“Does he think you’re happy?”

“Yes.” She nods. “Well, for the most part. I do my thing, and he does his. His job keeps him pretty busy, and I often pretend to be asleep when he gets home. He doesn’t satisfy my needs, so to speak, and I’ve given up on trying. I want to be freed from him.” She pulls out a packet of paper from her purse, and gives it to Harry. “That’s a copy of the contract he and my father signed when they made the deal. I’m not great with legal jargon. I thought maybe if you decide to take me on you could look that over and tell me if there’s any way, I can get out of this.”

“Are you over eighteen?”

“Yes, well over.”

“And were you over eighteen when you were married?”

“Yes.”

“Then how could your father barter you?”

“Where I come from…it can just be like that. The goods we get in exchange for my hand outweighed my happiness.”

“I’m so sorry.” Harry frowns. “My services aren’t exactly cheap.”

“I wouldn’t expect them to be. I can pay top dollar, if that’s what you require. I have money of my own.”

“Alright.” Harry sets the packet of papers onto his desk. “I’ll take a look at that soon, and give you a call.”

“Does that mean you’re taking me on?”

“I hate to see such a nice person be so unhappy.” Harry frowns. “I got into this business to help people, so I’ll help you, Mira.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” She smiles. “There are going to be some things in that contract that may shock you, so please don’t hesitate to call me directly with your questions.” She takes out a business card from her purse. “There’s all of my contact information. If anyone other than myself contacts you regarding all of this, don’t say a word.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good at keeping things confidential.”

“I heard you’re a very trustworthy attorney.” She nods, and stands to her feet. Harry does the same. “Thank you for taking the time to listen.” She extends her hand, and he takes it to shake.

“Of course, it’s what I’m here for.” He smiles and opens the door. He watches her leave, maybe for a little too long.

[DARK SIDED, COMING TO PATREON ON SATURDAY, OCTOBER 2ND @ 8AM EST] [Ask]

#dark sided #teaser #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x oc #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #sub!Harry #lawyer!Harry

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spine-buster · 4 years ago

Text

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | five

A/N: This is the last part of this mini series! I know this adventure was short but thank you all for coming along on the ride :) A quick reminder that I will be announcing my new fic, who it will feature, a small blurb, & a clue as to what to expect from it this Thursday at 7:30pm EST. Happy reading!

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); parent death; swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

* * * * *

“You look beautiful, baby,” Brock cooed as he adjusted his cufflinks – well, not really. He was looking at Grace, not really caring about his cufflinks. Seeing her stand there in her beautiful dress, her hair curled and pinned, and her delicate jewelry hanging off her ears, neck, and wrists…she was a vision. He was so lucky.

They were about to leave to attend the Parkinson’s Foundation of British Columbia Gala. Grace had planned virtually the whole thing, though she worked with the head of the foundation on most major decisions. She arranged the venue, catering, got major sponsors (okay…the biggest were her uncles, but there were a lot more), organized the silent auction, and arranged the entertainment for the evening. Everyone who attended their weekly meetings would be there. Brock knew the Aquilinis would be there. It was a party, yes, and a function to raise money, yes – but at the end of the day, it was a culmination of Grace’s strength after Hamish passed away.

“Thanks, babe,” she smiled over at him, taking one last look at herself in the mirror. “Are Petey and Svea ready to go?”

Brock nodded. “Petey’s been texting for fifteen minutes asking if we’re on our way yet,” he joked.

“You can blame it on me,” she winked. “Unless Petey takes a good look at your hair. Then he’ll know it was you.”

Brock laughed out loud, taking the few steps needed to stand right in front of her and wrap his arms around her. “Hey…before we go,” his voice was low and he looked down at Grace. “Your dad would be so proud of you for planning this.”

Grace nodded her head. She knew. It was a lot of work, and she completely went in head first with planning all of it and maybe, sort of taking over the entire operation, but it was worth it. She had planned something that would raise money that, hopefully, would fund research so that nobody would have to go through what she went through. She didn’t just want to be known as an heiress daughter of a billionaire; she wanted to be known as so much more. An heiress who used her money to fund research projects and arts centres; an heiress who donated her time and money to worthy causes. She once told Brock that she knew she wasn’t the smartest girl in the world, but that she thought she had a big heart. She hoped this was the start of others in her community, and in Vancouver, realizing that she had a big heart.

***

“Grace, this is amazing,” Svea couldn’t help but say astonishingly as she took yet another look around the giant room, decorated to the nines with flashing lights and impeccably dressed people chatting and drinking and dancing. Svea knew Grace would be busy throughout the night, so she wasn’t trying to hog her after their limousine ride together. But now that Svea got her alone, she had to verbalize it again, just like she did when she walked in. “Like, I don’t think you understand. It’s incredible.”

“Want to let me plan your wedding to Elias?” Grace winked, taking a sip of her drink.

“Oh shut up.”

“There she is!” the women both heart Elias yell. They turned around and saw him and Brock walking towards them, both with drinks in their hands. “Grace, this is so cool.”

“Thanks Petey. And thanks for donating your jersey.”

“Anything for you.”

Grace focused her attention on Brock. “Esther wants us to take a group photo with everyone before everyone leaves,” she said, and Brock nodded his head in agreement. She looked at Elias. “If I get everyone together right now, do you mind taking it?”

“Like I just said Grace, anything for you.”

***

Fatigued, physically and mentally exhausted, but still somehow feeling the adrenaline coursing through her veins, Grace climbed into the limousine with Brock, Elias, and Svea at the end of the gala so they could go home. They dropped off Elias and Svea first, naturally, and Elias had to wake Svea up as she slept on his shoulder throughout the ride. It left Brock and Grace alone in the limousine together, hands clasped together as the driver drove through the streets of Vancouver.

“You did amazing tonight,” Brock mumbled, his voice low and full of sleepiness but still so direct and meaningful. “I love you so much, Grace.”

“I love you too, Brock.”

“When we have kids, I’m gonna let them know this was the night I knew you’d become my wife.”

Grace stiffened at Brock’s words, but he was too tired to notice – the small smirk on his face not disappearing despite anxiety – not adrenaline – now coursing through Grace’s veins. She thought about the implications of his words, how he just outright admitted that she was the one for him. She thought about her feelings for him, and if she felt the same. She did. But was it possible to still be apprehensive? She loved Brock with her whole heart. She’d never met anybody like him, and likely would never meet anyone like him again. She loved him too, with everything she had.

But then she thought about her parents.

Her parents were young and in love once too. Her parents were once obsessed with each other and madly in love. Her parents had decided to get married and have a child. Her parents had decided what Brock was laying out on the proverbial table – what Brock was so willing to give her – and look what happened. Things didn’t work out. Love didn’t work out. Love was complicated. They separated. Grace went to live with Eliza but didn’t like it because she missed dad. She told Hamish who told his lawyers. His lawyers brought it to the judge. Divorce proceedings started. Grace went to live with Hamish. Eliza demanded alimony for her lifestyle, to maintain it, if not to exceed it. Eliza demanded child support. Eliza demanded nannies, a multi-million dollar house, and expensive cars. Hamish would tell Grace her mother was selfish. Eliza would tell Grace how stingy her father was. Eliza would tell Grace how her father only wanted custody so he didn’t have to pay child support. Hamish told Grace Eliza only wanted child support and alimony so she could hire babysitters and nannies while she went to spas. A pawn while she was at her mom’s in Shaughnessy; a pawn while she was at her dad’s in West Point Grey. A pawn when dropped off at school at Crofton House. A pawn at the dance studio, her happiest place.

What if she and Brock turned out the same way?

***

“You okay?” Brock asked Grace.

Grace wasn’t there. She was somewhere else, in her mind, thinking about events long passed. “Your father’s the cheapest man I’ve ever met,” she could hear her mom say in the kitchen as she waited for her cereal before school at seven years old. “Cheap cheap cheap cheap cheap! He’s always been so much work to be with, your father. He refuses to get you a Range Rover – did you know that? Your dad wants you driven around in some…in some…I don’t know, some Toyota.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Grace said absent-mindedly, giving her pasta a few more twirls to make it seem like she’d eat it. “Will I still be able to go to dance?”

“Who knows?! Your father may even take that away from you too! It scares me, the things he’s taking away from you.”

“But I love dance.”

“Well then maybe you should stay with me. Daddy will pay me to take you to dance.”

***

“Your mother is a piece of work, let me tell you,” Hamish mumbled as he slapped his cellphone down on the counter. “She was always so much work to be with. Always so much work. Now she wants $60,000 a month in alimony. Alimony!”

“What’s alimony?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hamish said. “Have your teachers taught you yet what it means to be selfish?” he asked. Grace nodded her head. “Well your mother is selfish. One of the most selfish people in the world.”

“Grace? You coming to bed?” Brock’s voice was groggy as he stood in the doorway of the ensuite, his usually well-kept hair everywhere, his eyes sleepy.

“Yeah…yeah, sorry,” Grace apologized, getting up from her seated position on the toilet lid. “Sorry baby.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine,” she said, grabbing Brock’s hand and leading him back to bed.

“You’d tell me if it wasn’t right?” he asked softly as she cuddled up against him in bed.

“Of course,” she said, a nervous lump in her throat. “Of course.”

***

“Gracie…please tell me what’s wrong,” Brock said in a low voice as he tried to wrap his arms around her, only for her to flinch slightly and back away. That hurt him more than anything.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said unconvincingly.

“Yes it is—”

“Can we just drop it,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “We’re supposed to be on a date.”

***

“What’s the matter with you?” Elias asked, sick of seeing Brock so gloomy and moody the past several weeks. He’d noticed a change in him, and though Brock was usually very open about what he was feeling with him, he wasn’t this time, and Elias was…skeptical. Well, not skeptical – worried. This time, Brock had a girlfriend and was moody, and Elias didn’t know what to expect. “What’s going on?”

“Something’s wrong with Grace,” Brock revealed to Elias.

“What’s wrong?”

Brock shook his head. “She won’t tell me. But she…she zones out a lot, like she’s thinking about something…and it’s so intense that she doesn’t even hear me calling her.”

“What’s she thinking about?”

Brock shrugged. “She doesn’t tell me. She’ll never tell me.”

“Well when did it start?”

Brock thought about it. He really thought about it. He liked to think he was in tune with changes in Grace. “The gala.”

“The Parkinson’s Gala?” Elias clarified. Brock nodded his head. “Well, could it be about her dad?”

“It’s something more,” Brock was adamant. He knew she would be sad and would never be the same after her dad died. That was a given. No-one was ever the same after the death of a parent, so he didn’t blame her for that. “It’s…it’s something more.”

***

“Is everything okay with you?” Svea asked delicately as she and Grace were shopping at Holt Renfrew. Well – Grace was shopping at Holt Renfrew. Svea was basically just following her around, because it wasn’t like she could afford anything.

“I’m fine,” Grace said unconvincingly.

“Are you sure? Because you know you can talk to me if things aren’t okay.”

Grace took a deep breath in, trying to compose herself. Knowing what she knew about Svea’s parents and their love story, she doubted that Svea would be able to provide any…critical insight, so to speak. But Grace tried anyway. “How d’you know a guy is your soulmate, Svea?” she asked.

Svea was taken aback. It was quite the loaded question to lead with. “I’d say it’s when you can picture the rest of your life with them. At least that’s one aspect to it.”

“Can you picture the rest of your life with Elias?”

“Yes,” Svea answered automatically, because she could. It was as friends, sure, but she still pictured the rest of her life with him. “Can you picture the rest of your life with Brock?”

Grace paused. Her response wasn’t as quick or forthcoming. “Yes.”

“But?”

“But what?”

“There was a pause there,” Svea said. “But what?”

“But what if, like, things change?” Grace asked. “What if the love doesn’t last? What if it breaks down?”

“You mean like your parents?”

Grace didn’t want to glare at Svea – she really didn’t, because Svea was one of the sweetest people alive – but she did. She glared at her. “No,” she said forcefully, trying to cover.

“Love always lasts. True love always lasts. Look at Elias and I – I mean, we’ve loved each other our whole lives—”

“You and Elias won’t even hold hands or kiss each other,” Grace said angrily, unable to control her emotions at this point. “You won’t even admit you love him romantically. How the hell is that love?”

Svea just stared at Grace, unable to formulate words. Tears welled in her eyes too, and when Grace saw them get red, she hated herself even more. She hated herself already for making Brock worry, for not telling him the truth, for hiding things from him; now, she hated herself even more for making Svea emotional. “I’ve gotta go,” she said, leaving quickly, unable to look back at Svea as she left her in the middle of Holt Renfrew alone.

***

“If you don’t tell me what’s wrong right now or I’m leaving,” Brock said sternly, his voice raised. Both of their voices had been for the last while now, since they were fighting. He looked at Grace as she stared back at him indignantly from across the kitchen. “We can’t have a relationship if we don’t communicate – if you don’t tell me what’s been bothering you.”

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“Is it something I did? Did I say something?”

“It’s not you.”

“Then what is it?”

“There’s nothing wr—”

“Tell me what’s wrong!”

Grace stayed silent. She could feel herself going red. She could feel the emotions in her bubble up. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it in much longer. “Leave.”

Brock furrowed his brows. “Excuse me?”

“Leave my apartment now.”

Brock stood stoic in spot. “You don’t mean that—”

“LEAVE!” Grace screamed at the top of her lungs, taking every ounce of strength left in her to not cry.

They were in a standoff. Brock stood stoic. Grace stood stoic. Staring at each other, waiting for the other to move. Neither did for a while, waiting it out to see who would crack first. She didn’t mean it, Brock kept thinking. She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t mean it. But with every second that passed, with every heave of Grace’s chest, with every moment of silence signaling her refusal to budge…

Brock cracked.

He picked up his keys, gave Grace one last look, and walked out the door.

***

It was a few agonizing, excruciating, unbearably lonely few weeks later when Brock received a phone call in the middle of the night. 2:38am. His phone’s ring blaring throughout his empty apartment.

“Hello?” his voice was groggy, tired, exhausted.

Silence.

“Hello?” he asked once more, louder this time. If it was any one of his teammates he’d knock them dead the next time he saw them – Petey especially.

The voice was small and defeated when it finally did speak, asking Brock the question, “What if we end up like my parents?”

Brock was wide awake now. He got up in bed dramatically, holding his phone against his ear so tightly that he could hear the charger fall out of the electrical socket. “Gracie,” the shock was evident in his voice.

“Will you come over?” she asked.

Brock threw the covers off his body dramatically. “I’m on my way right now,” he said. He’d drive his car in his slippers if he needed to.

“Be careful.”

“I’m coming. I’ll be there soon.”

***

“C’mere,” Brock said the millisecond Grace let him in, wrapping his arms around her and engulfing her into a hug as she clung to him like he’d float away and wrapped every limb she had around him. He’d made it to her apartment in record time, speeding through the streets of Vancouver to get to her. It was probably dangerous, but it wasn’t like there were other cars on the road at 2:45 in the morning. “Talk to me Gracie. Talk to me,” he urged as he felt her tears against his skin.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled into the crook of his neck. “I’m so—Brock, I was so bad. So bad.”

“Shhhhh shhhh shhhh, don’t,” Brock cooed. “Just tell me what’s wrong. What’s going on in your head, Grace?”

“Brock…” she began, swallowing her tears before continuing. She pulled away slightly so she could look him in the eye, wiping her own red ones with the palms of her hands. She knew she looked awful, but she also knew Brock didn’t give a shit. “I just miss him so much.”

“Your dad.”

Grace nodded quickly. “Every part of me misses him. But then I started to think about how awful he and my mom were during the divorce,” she explained. And to Brock, that said everything. Grace told him about it ever since they met – the general, the specific, the nitty-gritty details – and it was awful. To have that whirling around in her mind would have definitely affected her. It all made sense to him now. It all made sense, knowing she never wanted to go back to that. “And I got scared…I got so scared. I just kept remembering how bad it was. So on the night of the gala when you said—”

“So it was something that I said—”

“Nonononononono,” she vehemently shook her head, bringing her finger up to his lips to silence him. “No no no no no. I—Brock—I love you with every part of me too. But…but what if we end up like my parents? What if we fall out of love? What if it—what if it ends badly? What if we ended up hating each other? They’d always say things like it was so hard to be with one another and—”

“Is it hard to be with me?” Brock asked, not wanting her to go any further and knowing that at this point, he needed to intervene.

“NO! Never!” she exclaimed. She never wanted Brock to think that ever. She cradled his face in her hands. “Being with you feels natural. It feels like it was always supposed to be this way. It’s so easy. It’s so peaceful.”

“Then that’s how it’ll always be, a peaceful easy feeling,” Brock whispered. “What’s there to be scared about, baby?”

Grace shook her head, tearing up again. “Nothing when I’m with you.”

“We won’t end up like your parents because we’re not your parents,” he said. His words were so simple but they hit Grace like a ton of bricks. “We’re different people. I love you more than anything, and the thought of hating you—Grace—I—it’s never, never crossed my mind. I never could. You give me everything. Do I give you everything?”

She nodded. “Everything.”

“Then I’m gonna keep giving you everything. And I’ll do it till the end of time, Gracie. Because I love you. I can’t picture myself with anyone else. I can’t…I can’t picture going through pain with anyone else besides you.”

Brock’s words were loaded – she knew that. “I can’t picture going through pain with anyone else besides you.” Grace nodded. The sentiment was so serious, but so right. When she really thought about it, would she have wanted to experience this pain with anyone else besides Brock? No. He meant the world to her. And that’s how it was always going to be. “I’m so dumb,” she shook her head at herself.

“You’re not dumb. For what you went through, it’s a legitimate worry,” he reassured her. “But I promise you, I promise you, I’ll love you with everything I have and you’ll love me with everything you have, and we won’t end up like your parents.”

Grace was overcome with emotion. “I love you so much, Brock.”

“I love you too,” he leaned in to kiss her, once, twice, then again and again. When they stopped, he wrapped his arms around her body and lay down on her couch, bringing her body down with him. He wiggled out of his hoodie. Then he pushed her body down slightly, and that’s when Grace knew exactly what he was doing. She lay her head on his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Can you feel it?” he asked softly.

Grace nodded.

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snowgoldwaylon · 3 years ago

Text

A Night At The Opera - Grigori Weaver X Reader

Performing is what you loved to do best. Meeting a young soldier is just what you always dreamed off, but while you were on tour for one of the most iconic operas ever written. And you, the main character.

TW: None!

"Y/N! You are live in 10 minutes!" The producer called, as he walked past your mirror.

You glanced in the mirror and just caught the last glimpse of him leaving the room. You turned to look back at yourself in the large vanity, the lights illuminating your current hair style which stood pretty tall.

You were getting final touches to hair and makeup, and it just so happens for this opera, you were the main star. And as hollywood rules states, go big or go home. So you chose the classic big, bouncy curly hair with curled sideburns to give it spice.

It was elegant, you had little glass flowers put all through it so it would glitter and reflect off the stage lights. You wore a stunning ballgown dress, with large bell sleeves. And for the finishing touch which the hair stylist was putting in your hair?

An authentic, diamond and gold lined tiara, which had a long, lace veil attached to the back. You simply smiled at how you looked in this moment. A makeup artist came over and touched up some spots and re-applied the ruby red lipstick you had on.

As soon as they finished, you looked over yourself and smiled. You pushed a falling glass piece back into place, applied hairspray, and got up. You soothed the dress out and turned to the two who had made you look stunning.

"Thank you both, you have made my dream look come true! I think I'm going to permanently hire both of you to tour with me!" You exclaimed, giving a hand.

They both nodded graciously, and bowed with a humble 'thank you' before you were pulled away by someone.

"Okay Y/N, you will be live in one minute. You know the cues, good luck out there!" The stage coach yelled, pulling you to the side stage.

You watched as the young man who played Pollione finish his number, Meco all'altar di Venere. After the dramatic change of scene and the curtain close, the audience clapped loudly. The moment you trained for was finally here!

You watched as Klaus, the owner of the gorgeous, all original opera house approached you. You smiled, and he gave you his hand.

"Miss Y/N, do you look stunning! I must tell you before you go on, we have special guests in the audience. Not to make you worried or such, but these guests are returning soldiers from the war. One in particular who you might have the chance to meet after, is named Grigori Weaver. He loves operas, and even funded this show to go on!" Klaus exclaimed.

You were taken back by the odd sounding name. Grigori? Is that Russian? you asked yourself. You smiled at Klaus, and gave a simple nod.

"Yes Klaus, I understand. Thank you for the information. I do hope to meet him afterwards!" You said.

The stage hand tapped your shoulder, as you saw two men heading towards the curtain strings.

"I must go, Klaus. Thank you!" You said, before taking your spot center stage, right up against the curtain.

The choir filed in behind you on the risers as you stood, singing small voice warmups before it was go time. You felt nervous, but excited. Your heart raced with joy and adrenaline as the final words of the scene were spoken.

That was the cue! With the final dialouge spoken, the curtains opened. The lights suddenly filled your vision, along with the large crowd in the huge theather. A small, soft smile was written on your flawless features as the orchestra began the song.

The flute soloist filled the room with warm, beautiful, contrasted music with crescendos and decrescendos. It sounded almost ominous, but it was beautiful. You stood in the pose as practiced before.

The bell sleeves hung beautiful as you would slightly lift your arms with the music. The violins cued your very first note, and you gave it your all.

"Casta Diva, che inargenti

queste sacre antiche piante,

a noi volgi il bel sembiante

senza nube e senza vel."

You maintained a professional and elegant posture as you acted the part of your character, Norma. You swayed lightly with the music, and smiled as the choir behind you hit the correct notes, pitch, and phrases behind you. You glanced out over the crowd, and right away spotted a man wearing an eye patch in the VIP section.

Suddenly, you felt the urge to finish this aria right, and with ease. Your next cue happened, and you let the bell sleeves hang beside you.

"Tempra, o Diva,

tempra tu de’ cori ardenti

tempra ancora lo zelo audace,

spargi in terra quella pace

che regnar tu fai nel ciel.

Fine al rito

e il sacro bosco

sia disgombro dai profani.

Quando il Nume irato e fosco,

chiegga il sangue dei Romani.

Dal Druidico delubro

La mia voce tuonerà.

Cadrà; punirlo io posso.

Ma, punirlo, il cor non sa.

Ah! bello a me ritorna

Del fido amor primiero;

E contro il mondo intiero

difesa a te sarò.

Ah! bello a me ritorna

Del raggio tuo sereno,

e vita nel tuo seno,

e patria e cielo avrò.

Ah, riedi ancora qual eri allora,

quando il cor ti diedi allora,

ah, riedi a me."

With the last note of the orchestra, ending right after your vocals pitched down, you struck an elegant pose. The diamond of the tiara made you sparkle as you soaked up all limelight.

Cheers roared and echoed through the halls and walkways of the opera house. Whistles and flowers were thrown as the curtains began to slowly close. You glanced towards the man with the eyepatch again, and saw him standing up.

He joined everyone in a standing ovation because your pure and effortless talent had shaken them to the core, but in a good way. The heat of the lights brought you to a pant, and small specks of sweat beaded at the line of your hair.

The curtains finally came to a close and you released the pose. You quickly made the way backstage to cool off, so you wouldn't look rough for the finishing act.

Producers swarmed you, makeup artists, and hair artists also swarmed you like buzards so they could doll you back up. You were to keep the hairstyle for the final act, but change the dress for a Victoria era wedding dress.

TIMESKIP, END OF THE OPERA

You gathered at the entrance along with the cast to say goodbye to guests as they exited the opera house. This gave guests a chance to get autographs, pictures, and words to say. You were of course, the first at the door for the order of namesake.

Soon, the hundreds of people came, and shook hands with everyone. You were signing many autographs for many people, and snapping many pictures for all. And you were very determined to make sure everyone who asked had one.

Soon, the end of the line came, and out came the man in question. The handsome, dark haired man with the eye patch and a handsome pair of dress blues. He made conversation with everyone, and you even noticed Klaus right beside him, talking.

They came up to you last, and the rest of the cast exited to get cleaned up. You smiled as they approached, and held out your hand.

"Evening, Miss Norma. You did fantastic. My name is Grigori Weaver, could I have yours please?" He asked kindly, taking your hand and giving it a small kiss.

You blushed as Grigori let your hand go, and turned to Klaus.

"This is the gentleman who sponsored the whole show!"

"Ah yes, Grigori. Nice too meet you. I'm Y/N Y/L/N. Or as you know, Norma. On behalf on all my cast and producers, coaches, and myself, we thank you. This production would have been lost if it wasn't for you kind donation." You said.

He smiled at you, and only you. He couldn't get over how flawless and just how polite you were.

"Well, as proven tonight, Miss Y/L/N, it's my pleasure. I do hope you stick around for more performances these coming years, da?" He asked.

"Well of course! I plan on staying in the opera for many years while I attend school and look for my dream job." You said.

Grigori looked at his watched, and slipped his hat on. While he fixed the collar on his jacket, he fished inside his coat for something. He pulled out a brilliant, luscious red rose and handed to you. You gratefully accepted as a blushed creeped across you.

"I must be going now, my job starts soon. But, for you, Norma. Maybe possibly I could come see you perform again this coming week?" He asked.

"Of course you can, I'd love that." You said, with a smile.

"Off I go then. Have a wonderful evening, both of you!" He said as he exited the opera house.

You watched him walk to his very luxurious car, and he looked back. You waved and turned on your heel, walking back with Klaus.

"I think you just got the VIP to fall in love with you, nyet?" He asked.

"Klaus, do not be so foolish! He was simply being nice." You said, walking up the first flight of stairs.

"But, he did say he'd be returing for the other shows. If he does, then that will prove my point for sure!" Klaus said.

You came to your dressing room, and wished Klaus a good evening as you closed the door. You set the red rose in a vase on your vanity and began carefully taking out the pieces from your hair. You couldn't stop thinking about with Grigori had said.

And over the rest of the following days the opera showed, Grigori kept his promise. Soonz the vase was overflowing with roses. And after one performance, you found yourself at one of the nicest restaurants with Grigori.

That was one hell of a night at the opera.

Taglist: @smokeywhalee @wennbergbabe @justagenderfluidstuff @goawaypleasecryingemoji @kazazure @kapanovangswife @xundeadqueenx @direwolfspostsrandomshit

#black ops cold war #cold war #black ops #grigori weaver #weaver

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warlockfemale · 3 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday @jovialjuggernaut-draws I am so sorry that this is so late!

Bruce’s colors have always been muted.

He knows because he was told by a doctor after one of many tests. His parents had both smiled widely and told him just what an exciting thing it was. How he had a soulmate out there someplace and waxed poetry about just the sort of things Bruce would notice once he’d found them. He is one of the 30% of the world with someone made just for him that would be found out once his skin touched theirs.

What they hadn’t told him was how only 6% of the world consisted of people with soulmates that had one one another. What would have devastated Bruce once became a relief because he wasn’t destroying another’s life by making them step into the darkness with him. He was happy to date around and allow whoever had been burdened with him to go on with their own life.

And now he was staring in shock into eyes greener than anything Bruce had ever seen before in his life.

“Shit.”

“Shit!” Edward Nygma agreed. He stepped back, cleared his throat, and swiveled around. “Girls! I’ve changed my mind!” Bruce’s mind had frozen into a blue screen so all he could do was stare at the green clad (god is this how so many people usually saw the world?) trio stride out. As if Edward had an important dinner date he was almost late to while Bruce’s entire worldview was trying to stop tilting. He was sure the entire gala was staring at him or Edward at that point, wondering just what Gotham’s most popular billionaire had done to put the robbery to an end so fast.

“Bruce? You doing ok?” Hands started patting him all over. “Bruce? You’re looking really pale here.”

Shit.

* * * *

Bruce wasn’t brooding. He was analyzing the situation from all angles after debriefing it in the batcave to all persons that might get affected. Dick still refused to answer his phone so Bruce asked Wally to tell his son to check the text. Jason apparently thought there was nothing to worry about (and started laughing) and Alfred seemed less concerned about Bruce’s soulmate being a criminal and more worried about how Bruce was reacting.

Bruce wasn’t brooding and to prove it he went to answer the door soon as the bell rang.

“Delivery for a Mr. Wayne!” Nina Damfino grunted as she shoved a heavy green wrapped box into Bruce’s arms. Unlikely to be an explosive since she’d delivered it and Bruce doubted he could get away with chucking the thing away onto the lawn. So he regrettably started unwrapping the thing; hoping that Edward was watching and wincing at the unnecessary mess made of the custom paper. Taking a deep breath (and hoping that Riddler hadn’t somehow bribed Ivy into giving up some pollen) Bruce opened the box.

What. The. Fuck.

Those were Bruce’s statues. The ones depleting Zal and Rudabeh, stolen from the museum they had been on loan to years ago.

Bruce slammed the door shut in Nina’s face.

* * * *

Of course someone had noticed what was going on. Bruce hadn’t been able to stop himself from gawking at just how many different colors the world had now. Or maybe Riddler had bragged to the entire city about it. Either way Bruce was suddenly bombarded with reporters from the society page. One of them had the gall to ask when the wedding was.

“I have a preteen son,” had been Bruce’s statement hoping that could clear things up. “He is my first priority.”

In hindsight that might have been the wrong thing to say.

* * * *

“So I’ve changed the rules a little. My riddles will lead you to criminals and this time they won’t be me!” Jason was practically vibrating in place from mirth as Bruce stared fixedly at the letter laying on the table. Gordon was giving Bruce A Look.

“Word on the street is something happened at the Wayne gala.”

“Hrrn.”

“Riddler donated back some of the art he stole. Wrapped with a bow.” And with a two sheeted riddle that pretty much translated into one giant insult that the museum’s director was still trying to puzzle out. Jason had thought the entire thing was great after the director’s snub at the “newest Wayne charity case”.

“I heard.” The wall really needed to be repainted.

“Batman I need to know if this is going to explode into something I’ll need to worry about.” That had been Dick’s exact words when he’d come into the cave last night.

“I’m looking into it.” Alfred had already started to make pointed remarks about manners and facing life’s problems. “Now ‘You don’t have to look for a night on the lawn’-”

* * * *

“You know Riddler tried to bribe me into sharing information about you today at the library.” Jason tilted his chair back onto the back legs as if he had not just nearly given Bruce a heart attack with his words. “Don’t worry, I held out for a triple scoop sundae before letting him know your favorite color.”

“Jason, he's a dangerous criminal!”

“Eh I grew up with worse.” Bruce breathed in deep trying not to let Jason see just how troubled that fact always made him. Jason usually said things like that off hand, just another fact about the world. The sky was blue, Selina liked to steal things, and Jason’s childhood until now had consisted of trying to survive. “His eyes aren’t mean. And you’re soulmates.”

“I cannot tell you how little that reassures me,” Jason grinned and tipped his chair back into place the little brat. Bruce ruffled the boy’s hair as punishment earning a fake glare and slap at his hands. “But really Jason, you need to stay safe.”

“Uh huh. Think I could take on the Riddler.” Not reassuring. “I also made sure to be in sight of Barbie at all times.” Much more reassuring since Bruce had personally seen Barbra flip two grown men over her head at once. Another grin, bigger this time. More of a smirk that had Bruce raising an eyebrow. “I also told him that you liked flowers.”

“Jay lad please tell me-”

“Sir there seems to have been a delivery for you.” Alfred’s face was carefully blank, a sure sign of just what Bruce was going to find at the door. “If you do not mind.”

“Don’t worry!” Jason called out happily as Bruce stared in disbelief at the sudden garden now growing on his steps. “I made sure Ivy wouldn’t be out for blood!”

* * * *

“Ah detective!” Edward’s green suit might as well been the only spark of color in the diner as Bruce entered it. As pressed and clean as always while the man himself gave a small toast with his coffee cup. “Glad you could make it! And you solved my riddle! Very good!”

“Riddler.” Bruce sat down at the diner bar taking in Edward’s appearance. “What is it now?”

“Is that any way to talk to your new partner?”

“If you think this game-”

“Oh please,” Edward waved his hand like a magician retrieving their rabbit. “You might think Bruce’s secret is safe but I am a genius. He’s helped fund the Justice League.” Edward leaned in, eyes darting around the near empty diner as his voice lowered. “He’s funding you. I have to play on the side of angels for the only one in the universe that can understand me?” He stood up, throwing cash upon the bar and a grim smile on his face. “Now let’s get to chasing down those criminals. Quick crime question. Who was the biggest thief in history?”

Bruce stared at him, then the newspaper resting under Edward’s coffee cup. “Atlas News? Where is this going?” Edward’s face lit up, eyes gleaming as he didn’t even bother trying to hide his utter delight.

“The game, my dear Watson, is afoot!”

“Awwww.” Nightwing cooed into the communicator from his perch as Edward stumbled out the door. It was not adorable, Bruce reminded himself sternly, for a grown man to go scampering out the way that Edward did with such a look of utter pride on his face for having “bested” Batman. They both had a job to do and he was yet convinced that Edward wasn’t just trying to play another game. “Just for the record. Batgirl says you’re an emotionally repressed coward.”

Batman never sighed. In public.

* * * *

“Why hello there Mr. Wayne. Fancy seeing you um… here. At home. Working in your study.” Sometimes it was easy to forget that Riddler’s over extravagant self praise and mocking towards others covered up a socially awkward man. Alfred’s rather pointed eyebrow raise before the butler closed the door let Bruce know just how little the household held his own social skills. Perfect match Jason had cackled madly last night. One never shuts up and the other just grunts.

“I have a secret.” Bruce managed to grind out as he stared at the area above Edward’s ear. He could do this, he’d managed to disarm a bomb with Firefly setting things on fire last month. He has given this speech several times into the mirror and once to Alfred. “It is a rather large one and will affect any… relationship that I may have.” Bruce chanced a look at Edward’s face and was slightly alarmed to see the man’s lip’s twitching. “You deserve to know and if this makes you decide that a-”

“Unless your secret is that you’re Batman I don’t expect-” Edward trailed off as he stared at Bruce’s face. The green clad man’s face went blank as Bruce went through all the contingency plans for when this went bad. “You’re Batman?” Edward burst out laughing, hands flying to the desk to keep himself upright as his body shook hard. Bruce’s hand flew up to sturdy the man just to be swatted away. “I knew it!”

“You couldn’t have known I was-”

“No, no. Not that. Well, somewhat.” Edward’s eyes really were a bright green, brighter than any other color as he bent forward to give a quick peck to Bruce’s lips, one thumb rising up to trace the small scar on the corner. “I always knew you were the only one who got me.”

#riddlebat #riddler #batman #bruce wayne #edward nygma #batman fanfiction

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forlornmelody · 4 years ago

Text

The Fantabulous Vacation of One Harley Quinn and Her Girlfriend Poison Ivy

Rating: T (suggestive themes, cartoon violence)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn

Linkage: Ao3

Summary: Harley's been burning the wick at both ends and Ivy knows just the thing to help. But it takes more than just a change of scenery to get Harley to let go.

Note: Commission for @rookie009

~*~*~*

“You’re probably wondering Mr---Watchman--”

“Tockman.” Mr. Watchman spits. “William Tockman.”

“Why I’ve brought you here today.”

Mr. Watchman rolls his eyes. “I imagine you’re going to tell me.”

“Ah! Good. You’ve stopped struggling. Progress, Mister!” Harley boops him on the nose. Maybe she made the binding too tight? “I’m not cutting off your circulation, am I?” She leans in close. “Are you comfortable? I need you comfortable.”

“I’m tied up in ropes, wench!”

“Ah, see! This is what I’m talking about!” Harley sits across from him and his fainting couch, pulling her pen from her bun and making a heading on her notepad. “You have a whore madonna complex.” Chewing her pen, she murmurs, “perhaps from the trauma of your wife’s death? Cystic Fibrosis, was it?”

Her new patient says nothing. “Mister?” Harley glances up. “Willy?”

“Help!” William Tockman dangles from his left ankle, suspended in air by a beefy vine. “She’s gonna kill me!”

“Oh please. You’re hardly worth the trouble.” Ivy steps around him and the vine, brushing the dust off her hands. “Hi Harls!” How she got the vines up this far on this abandoned apartment building, Harley has no idea. But it sure has a lot of brick to climb.

“Ivy!” Harley doesn’t so much as hug her as ram her at full speed.

Her target, used to such behavior by now, braces for impact and manages to hug back. Harley takes a big whiff. “Mm. Jasmine?”

“Lilacs.” Ivy peers over at Clock King. “You...uh, busy?”

“Mm yeah. A little tied up at the moment. Or he is, at least.”

“So I see.” Ivy chews her lip, staring out the window as if she had left a reminder there. She makes a face as the draft stirs some of the painting tarp discarded on the floor. “I was thinking maybe we could get out of town for a bit.”

“HELP.”

“Are you asking for help, Billy? Or do you prefer Willy?”

“HELP ME! THESE WOMEN ARE CRAZY.”

“Great!” Harley says brightly. “Admitting you need help is the first step towards healing!”

“Harls? Are you even listening?”

“You need help dismantling another CEO along with his company?”

“No.”

“Fundraiser for conservation efforts?”

“Harley--”

“Pride pre-game with Kitty?”

“Harleen.” That stops Harley short. Ivy never calls her that. Mostly cause she hates getting called Pamela with an undying passion. Probably childhood trauma. But Harley digresses.

Ivy sighs. “Sorry. Look. I need a vacation. We need a vacation.”

“I need help!”

“SHUT UP ALREADY.” Ivy and Harley say it together, and Ivy waves a hand, muffling Harley’s captive, er, patient with a particularly broad leaf.

“Mm... I’m a little busy--”

Ivy glances at Tockman, finally. “I can see that.”

“Lemme look at my calendar. Mmm.. maybe...next year? Definitely the one after that.”

“Harls.”

“I know, I know. But there’s my derby team, missions with Task Force X, the Birds of Prey, my day job--”

“I know.” Ivy takes her hands, gently, and squeezes them. It’s the softness that stops Harley in her tracks. “It’s why you need some time off.”

“But--”

“Shh. I already have plane tickets and a hotel booked. You don’t have to plan a thing.”

Harley can’t help the blush creeping up on her cheeks. “Aww, shucks, Ives. When are we leaving?”

“Now. The plane’s departing in--shit. We gotta go.”

“MMRPH.”

“Oh, right.” Ivy releases Clock King with a patented thud as she shoves Harley out the door. “Bye!”

-----

“So, we’re we goin’?” Harley pushes the arm rest out of the way and rests her chin on Ivy’s shoulder. She glances at Ivy’s phone as if it’ll give her some clues. She spots a sudoku puzzle. “Japan?”

“No.”

“The Amazon?”

“Nope.”

“Themyscyra?”

Ivy gives her a look. “Really?”

“Er….my mom’s? Please say it’s not my mom’s.”

“It’s not your mom’s.”

“Thank God.”

“Also, why would we fly to your mom’s house when we could easily drive? Or take a commuter bus?”

“Good point. Mm.”

Ivy smooths Harley’s hair out of her eyes. “It’s a surprise.” She snatches a quick kiss before the flight attendant rolls by. “You’ll love it.”

In this moment, Harley’s pretty sure she’d love anywhere as long Ivy’s there with her. She’s lit up by the light of the tiny window behind her, and her crimson locks glow like an angel’s. But Harley knows well enough that neither of them are anywhere close to innocent. “Say, how’d you get us past security?”

Ivy winks at her.

“No casualties?”

Her lover mockingly brushes her own chest like a scandalized church mouse. “I would never!” she snorts. “They’ll be fine. Just a little dazed and confused.”

Harley leans her head on Ivy’s shoulder. “I know the feelin’.” And really! Harley’s proud of her. Ivy’s never been one to follow rules or care for humans. But she tries for Harley. Why she bothers when Mistah J never seemed to care, Harley has no idea. But it means the world to her.

-----

The taxi drops them off in front of a large revolving door. But it’s not the gold handles that capture Harley’s attention.

It’s the lush plants growing from every nook and cranny on the place. Harley bets Ivy could spend an hour naming all of them (scientific names and personal names.) Butterflies and hummingbirds in every color of the rainbow--and the faint buzzing of bees. A solitary stream crosses their path, and a wooden bridge stretches over it. Garden terrace after garden terrace rise up from the ground to an open-air cafe at the top.

And behind the walls and the hotel proper? A waterpark.

Harley’s eyes go as big as saucers. “Ivy! You shouldn’t have!” She squeezes her into a hug.

“Thanks, sweet pea, but I can’t breathe.” Ivy manages to get out.

“Oof, sorry. Here ya go.” Harley releases her, and Ivy pecks her on the cheek.

“Best part is, they’ve a zero-carbon footprint and they’re waste free.” Harley rarely sees her grin so wide.”

“Whoa.”

“They call it The Greenhouse.”

-----

Their first day at the resort passes in a blur. Harley shows Ivy a good time in and out of their bedroom. They go snorkeling in the ocean, ride the rides so many times Harley ends up upchucking their picnic at the beach, then make love at sunset in their honeymoon suite. Harley wonders if the management thinks they’re--well, they’re as good as, aren’t they? They don’t need rings or a wedding or a place of their own or--

“Harley?”

She blinks. Ivy only calls her that when she’s worried. Harley realizes she’s been staring at the chocolates on their pillows for God knows how long. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Of course!” she says automatically, pulling Ivy into another kiss.

Ivy kisses back, then runs a finger down her cheek. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?” The setting sun makes her hair even redder, which Harley didn’t think possible, and Harley finds herself toying with her curls.

“Hey, I’ve been wonderin’.”

If Ivy notices the change in subject, she doesn’t mention it. “Yeah?”

“How come we haven’t seen any other guests? And how come we haven’t been arrested?”

“Oh! That.” Ivy waves a hand dismissively. “I rented out the whole resort.”

“With what money??”

Ivy shoots her a wicked look that sends shivers down Harley’s spine. “Ace Chemical’s investment fund.”

“Ooooh, you’re naughty.”

Harley dives in for another kiss but Ivy puts a finger to her lips. And doesn’t let her suck on it. Rude. “So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Since we’ve got all this extra cash, wanna make a run at the casino? I hear they donate the proceeds to rainforest restoration.”

“Alright.” Ivy sighs and reaches for her dress. Harley has a sinking feeling that she’s going to bring this up later. Maybe if Harley’s lucky she’ll forget about it? Yeah. Ivy forgets things all the time.

“Last one there buys the first round!”

-----

Ivy and Harley sit across from each other, an immaculate brunch setting between them and two mimosas. Her lover’s plate sits almost empty, and while Harley’s lies largely untouched. She keeps playing with her veggie egg white omelet, but the next bite never seems to make it to her mouth. “And then we can go for a walk on the beach later! Have you seen those beds? Right there on the water? Mm. Do you think anyone would hear us if we--”

“Harley, wait.”

“Like, the sound of the waves would cover it up, right? Mm. Maybe not. I’m loud. Not as loud as--”

“Harley, no. Stop. Stop.” Ivy presses her hands on either side of Harley’s face, drawing her to a standstill and inches away from her. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to!”

Ivy gives her a sad smile, shaking her head gently. “You don’t have to impress me, Harls. I love you.”

Harley, in typical Harley fashion, vibrates with energy. “But…I want this to be special. As special as y--”

“This vacation already is special. Cause you’re here with me.”

“But--” I’m not that special, Harley wants to say. But she knows Ivy won’t let her get away with saying that out loud. She wants to crawl underneath the tablecloth and hide until Ivy leaves. They always leave in the end. Once they get what they want. Mistah J--

“I love you, Harley Quinn.” Ivy takes her hand, gently, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And maybe. Maybe it’s that she doesn’t know what to do if Ivy stays. It’s easier to love someone who doesn’t love her back. It’s safe. Ahem. Emotionally safe, Dr. Quinzel says inside her head. For once, Harley has nothing to say. She’s too busy trying to keep the tears from falling.

“You don’t have to do anything. I already love you.” Ivy bites her lip--the way she always does when she’s thinking hard. Like how best to resurrect a drooping petunia or a rose bush that has a pest. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “And if it’s not too much--too early--to say this: I always will.”

“You proposin’ or somethin’?” The words tumble out of Harley’s mouth before she can stop them. Her cheeks feel like they’re blushing as bright as Ivy’s hair.

“I…” Ivy’s eyes widen. “I-I don’t have a ring on me.”

Shit. Fuck. ShitshitshitFuuuuuuuuuck. “I’msorryIdidn’tmeanit.” “It’s way too soon.” Harley puts on her best brave face--the same one she always put on when Bats showed up and Mistah J magically was nowhere to be found. “Marriage is so outda--”

“Harley.” Ivy puts her entire hand over her face. “Quinn.” “I never said I didn’t want to marry you.”

“Mmphwr?”

“Who wouldn’t want to marry Harley Quinn? You’re amazing.” She traces her eyebrows. “You’re the smartest person I know.” Boops her nose. “You’re impossible to kill. Holy fuck.” Runs her fingertip across her bottom lip. “You…” Ivy presses her lips together, looking down at the table. “You helped me love again when I hated everyone.”

“Pam.” Fuck, she’s getting misty eyed.

“I mean it. I was ready to wipe humanity off the map and start over.” She laughs a little, her voice rough as she wipes her cheek with the back of her hand. “But then you came along and nominated yourself my new shrink.”

“Don’t give me all the credit.” Wow, okay. Maybe she’s more than just misty-eyed. “You saved me too. From Mistah Jay. From Bats. From what woulda been a really boring life.”

Ivy’s smile slips slightly. “You’re not gonna die on me, are you Harls?”

Harley squeezes her hand. “Nah. You’re stuck with me.” Her words come out a little thick. “For richer or poorer.”

Her lover leans in close, capturing her lips in a warm kiss. “That’s usually pretty literal for you.”

“HEY.”

“It’s true! Guess I’ll have to see if Ace or maybe Lexcorp has any funds they won’t miss. I need to get that ring soon. Garnet? Spinel maybe?”

“Aww, shucks. How am I gonna be surprised now?”

Ivy scoffs. “If it’s a real surprise, it’s not a good time for a proposal.”

“But what if I want to be like those girls in those Tik Toks? Like where you propose to me but like I got my own box in my pocket?”

“Harley. A ring box wouldn’t fit in your tiny ass pockets, and you know it.”

“You know what would fit in my shorts?”

“Harleen Francis Quinzel.” Her laughter dissolves in a kiss and Harley pulls her back to their suite. They got a lot of planning to do. Though Harley has a pretty good feeling they’re not gonna get a whole lot of planning done today. But Harley’s okay with that. Pam’s always been the top of her to-do list anyway.

#harlivy #DC comics #poisonquinn #harley quinn #poison ivy #clock king #fluff isn't my usual so PLEASE tell me what you think #so sugary sweet you're gonna need to brush your teeth #melody writes #fluff

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alistonjdrake · 4 years ago

Text

Part Eight: The Charitable

*Perhaps not the “first” but was the first spouse of any of the infamous ten children of King Frederick and certainly left her mark on the family.

Lady Liliana ana’Ignacio Varona Born: Year 1748 after the fall of the Saints Parents: Lord Ignacio an’Lucho Varona and Lady Rosario ana’Max Murillo Spouse: Prince Cidro an’Frederick Harver

Much like Arturo, not much is known about Liliana’s upbringing. She was born in Nava, right before it’s reunion with Escan, in her father’s estate in Varon. She lived by the sea, surrounded by fields and grassy beaches instead of a city. As her father had sided with the victors, they had their titles changed and had some dues owed to their new king, but they did not lose things completely (and some of it could be owed to Lady Rosario having some de Flores relatives, making them in part distant cousins to the Harvers in their own right).

We can assume she had a childhood befitting of any noble woman under the reign of King Frederick. She would have been educated in music and literature, and the adult Liliana could play three instruments. She would have been taught manners and etiquette, she would be raised to wear the new garments King Frederick introduced. She might have had companions, she might have been the type of girl to run barefoot through her estate’s gardens. This is not known for sure because as an adult, Liliana was astutely serious and never spoke much about her childhood.

Liliana truly first became known during her tenure as Princess Consort and wife to Prince Cidro, Crown Prince of the Escana Empire. It would remiss not to start there.

Liliana came to Graza in 1768 when she was twenty years old as a potential lady-in-waiting for either Princess Zurina or Queen Luca. She must have fit all the requirements so we can also claim that Liliana spoke Escan with the Grazan flare instead of the Navanese dialect, that she would have been beautiful and had kind manners, and (most importantly) was single.

It makes sense that a lady for the single Princess Zurina would also be single, but there was some rumors that King Frederick liked his queens to have single ladies-in-waiting for when he needed a companion during their months of confinement during pregnancy (although there’s been no express proof of this and frankly, King Frederick did not need to go to extremes to find someone to keep him company).

The most likely cause of this was likely to tempt more singles to Graza. The culture of the court was changing, turning younger as King Frederick’s children were getting older and entering public life. Notably, Prince Cidro was said to be a wild romantic not unlike his father although he never reached his name level of scandalous infamy. The younger brother, Prince Leonides, was also becoming famous both for his accomplishments and the council and general aloof nature. Liliana was not the only daughter sent in hordes for the first time as an attempt to woo the princes instead of the aging king.

There are rumors that Liliana was first intended for Prince Leonides. The only evidence to suggest this being perhaps because King Frederick had never picked a candidate from Nava himself, they thought they’d be overlooked for his heir and it was perhaps more alluring to her parents to aim for the person who wasn’t famous for showering a new woman in romantic gifts every other month.

However, those close to Prince Cidro said he nearly fainted the moment he saw Liliana. They had many differences. Prince Cidro was most known for his charming and friendly manners. A people pleaser, polite and almost ignorantly kind. Short in stature with humorously boyish looks. Liliana was the opposite of him in both appearance and personality. She was always more reserved with a rarely changing expression. And she was a head taller than him.

Prince Cidro courted her for some several months. In letters Liliana sent back home, she would confess to being put off by his shortness and lack of serious attitude. She thought him foolish and claimed she could not bear to have a husband who make her feel like a mother.

However, letters uncovered between the two of them tell a different story. There was a slow growth of mutual respect and admiration. Prince Cidro often addressed her in letters as, “my captor” or “my warden” suggesting that he felt entirely captivated and enthralled by her. The two did marry for love and by their choice in 1770 when they were twenty-two.

The capital celebrated although not as loudly as they wanted (Queen Luca died not long after and mourning soured the usual long period of Escana partying after a wedding) but the people of the empire still rejoiced in delight for their new Princess Consort.

Liliana might have never taken to the culture of the court, but she truly admired Graza and took up efforts to continue to ensure the city had clean water, well maintained streets, and used the influence she gained through marriage to fund the hygiene committee and also put more money into the hands of local charities. There was a lull after Queen Luca’s death where King Frederick did not immediately remarry for once and in the eyes of the people, Liliana took up this space.

She made a point to donate the things she wasn’t using, making a display to encourage courtiers to stop minding their own luxuries and to care about the people who lived in the city below the palace. She donated her clothes, her food. sheets and pillows. Some of which would be auctioned off at high prices and the money used to open schools or went towards building.

It should also be said, despite her Navanese background, Liliana was very Santivian which also made her, and by extension Prince Cidro, appeal favorably to the Justice and the holy capital. Liliana personally funded four convents and occasionally visited to sit and pray with the nuns.

When King Frederick married Queen Cordinia in 1773 she was immediately criticized for not being as charitable and caring as the empire’s Princess Consort, as well as mocked for being younger than her new daughter-in-law and stepson. In some cartoons that circulated Graza, Queen Cordinia was portrayed as a screaming baby while Liliana was always the “mature, kind, older sister” (the cartoons never named the characters but it was always pretty clear).

Liliana and Prince Cidro also traveled frequently. Although they very rarely left the territories under the Escana Empire, they made a point of going on yearly tours. Even in Graza, Liliana made a point to spend time in the city and away from the palace. Wherever she went, the common people clamored to see her. Liliana was never popular among courtiers, much she made her power in being a sort of beacon to the people they ruled.

This makes her nearly the perfect contrast to Prince Leonides, who was feared by courtiers, loved by the council, and treated as folklore by the common people. They would butt heads often. Most owe this to how Prince Cidro treated them. Prince Leonides had already taken a position similar to Prince Sebastian’s both for his father and Prince Cidro himself, and Liliana’s influence over Prince Cidro not unlike Lady Helena’s over King Frederick. Some feared the two would fight over their spots beside the future king. Not to say that Prince Cidro was wholly uncapable, but he never stopped their rivalry either.

What is also unique is how truly loving the marriage between Prince Cidro and Liliana was. The people were used to watching the trials of King Frederick’s relationships and how quickly he jumped from one bed to another, whereas Prince Cidro was almost cloyingly dedicated in his affection and faithfulness towards his wife. It served as a perfect added tag to the growing story of the lusty Escana man that was created by King Frederick and quickly spread outside the empire. That now it was possible to tame one of them.

While Liliana was loved, there was also some sour gossip waiting in the wings. Obviously, many at court did not shy away from voicing their negative opinions about her especially when she made no move to accommodate them or be the sort of social “queen” they were used to. She also did not have any children. At the time they married, the Escana were used to the announcement of pregnancies coming almost too fast but Prince Cidro and Liliana seemed in no hurry.

King Frederick did not hide his worry at this. He was especially children-focused if only because he’d witnessed firsthand what not having an heir did to Oskya and the Ponsonbys, as well as lived among the fearful and vicious stories of baby killing and bloody fights for the throne. He did not want his children and descendants to have a similar problem. He pulled Liliana aside more than once to talk to her about this to which she would kiss his hand and say, “My Lord Father, please have patience,” and then she and Prince Cidro would be off on another trip.

Liliana always kept herself composed and kept herself away from the rest of the Harver siblings. She did not pay attention to their dramas and did not mind court gossip either. She cultivated a close circle of ladies-in-waiting and went everywhere with an air of maturity and grace that was intimidating to many.

At times, it has been recorded that she has a temper and has had moments of anger. For the most part, Liliana has kept to her own private circle and rarely shows herself in public but this does not grant her the same mockery as Princess Damaris. In fact, besides the few odd voices from councilmen and the extremely brave, most won’t even dare to say her name in even a sarcastic tone.

in 1782, after twelve years of marriage, King Frederick could finally stop sweating as Liliana would return to Graza with the news that she’s pregnant.

#my writing #my characters #world building #y'know I never really talk about Liliana #I guess especially with where I am in the story I tend to group her together with Leonides #and Argus is kinda wary of her so she doesn't show up that often until those points #tss trilogy

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lushjewels · 3 years ago

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This is Beau, the absolute light of my life and my fiancé's. We adopted him in February of 2020 as an emotional support kitty. We also adopted him because he was coming from a home that was not taking good care of him, and so he needed a home that could love and take care of him. From the moment the previous owner placed him into my arms he snuggled right into my neck like a baby and I knew he was meant to be ours. The past year has been full of love and laughter with this little cat. He has so much personality, and is the most loving and cuddly cat you could ask for. We have spoiled him rotten and he is the center of our little family. I even bought him a stroller to take him for walks. He was exactly what I needed during a very difficult time for my mental health. He brought me back. Gave me something to live for, to work for, to get up out of bed and try for. He just turned 2 on February 24th 2021.

This past month our whole world was turned upside down. We noticed he was being very distant and didn't want to be held, which is not at all like him. At one point when I tried to pick him up he started coughing and gasping. I was absolutely distraught with panic. We rushed him to the pet ER and then to another ER, and it was determined he has pleural effusion due to chyle. Otherwise known as Chylothorax. Which has a very poor prognosis. We were devastated. They removed the fluid and gave us a minimal chance with a supplement and low fat diet and instructions to come back in about a week. We followed the rules perfectly, but unfortunately learned a few days later that the fluid had come back very quickly and had come back in a large amount. The problem is that this illness is not well known or researched and there are very few options. His chest was continuing to fill with fluid, compressing his heart and lungs, and making it difficult for him to breathe. Unfortunately after several diagnostic tests it was determined that Beau's case was idiopathic meaning there was no definite cause. This meant we were extremely limited in what we could do. And beyond that, we could not just continue to drain the fluid as over time his heart and lungs would become scarred and struggle to function properly. The vet told us that we will need to discuss letting him go or discuss surgery. The vet made very clear to us that the chances for a positive outcome following surgery are very low, and we would be looking at a bill close to 10,000. With this in mind my Fiancé and I made the heart wrenching decision that it was not fair to put him through something like that, and that we simply cannot afford that steep of a bill, especially after what we have already paid. This absolutely broke us. I spent every day driving home from work in tears knowing that soon I would not be coming home to him anymore. We are getting married soon and Beau was supposed to be in our wedding photos, he was supposed to be the cat our children grew up with. He is our little baby, how are we supposed to let him go, especially when he is so young and so otherwise filled with life.

Despite all of those feelings we made the decision that humane euthanasia was the only option we could take. We would not continue to have his chest drained knowing it was hurtful and stressful to him, we could not continue to torture him. We planned to bring him for one more chest tap on a Thursday and had decided that on Saturday we would let him go.

After bringing him to the vet Thursday for a final chest drainage to make him comfortable before Saturday, I received a call from a different vet that happened to be in charge of Beau for the day. She stated that with different techniques, he could live a full life, and she had seen this done many times at other hospitals. She also told me the price tag would be much lower. We were ecstatic. We were going to save him. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted. I was finally crying happy tears. I didn't have to say goodbye.

And then the surgery department called with the estimate. While the doctor may have been right about his better odds of success and a full life, she was not correct about the price. We were still looking at a minimum of 12,000 and possibly more. This tore our hearts wide open. We felt like we finally had a chance, and here it was being ripped away again.

We tried every financing option under the sun but as a student in graduate school myself and my fiancé working as many hours as he can, we simply were not approved for any personal financing options, and the vet is unable to do any in-house financing. They did help us reduce some of the possible surgical costs to lower the initial deposit to 6,000, but the total may still reach that 12,000 plus the 8,000 we have already paid.

So here we are, asking for help. We love this little cat more than words can describe. He has given us so much love, and we want to be able to do everything we can for him to live a full and happy life, because he deserves it. This 2 year old cat is so sweet and innocent and it is so unfair for him to be taken so soon, especially when he could be fixed.

Any money raised will go directly towards his vet bills he has already incurred as well as trying to pay for his surgery. The surgery would close off the duct leaking the fluid, remove the membrane from around his heart to prevent it from scarring and limiting his heart's ability to function, and would also have a chest tube placed, that would require us to drain it regularly until the fluid is stopped. With these interventions cats have a good quality of life, and if it is successful, after a few weeks or months, my little man can have the tube removed and live his full well deserved life.

Anyone who is able to help in any way I am so thankful to you, and I cannot emphasize enough how indebted we are to everyone who steps forward. Even if you are unable to donate if you could please spread this message and help us, you are still helping Beau

😽😽😽BEAU UPDATE😽😽😽

Beau is officially home following surgery to place a pleural port to aide in removing fluid from his chest with less risk to his heart and lungs. This measure allows us some more valuable time in order to get the funds together to get his complete surgery. We have Beau set up in a special play pen to keep him safe while he recovers. He will have to be in this for 2 weeks. He has to wear a surgical suit and a cone/donut as well and gets medications twice a day. He also has to be kept from his sister Pam who is absolutely distraught that she cannot see him. He goes for his first fluid drain from the port on Tuesday.

We had a bit of a scare when the vet called to tell me that the day after surgery he spontaneously stopped breathing and had to be revived. It is because this fluid build up is so hard on his little heart and lungs, he can only take so much. His situation is truly critical.

To quote the vet directly:

"Surgery Discharge Instructions Date: 05-21-2021

Case: 2355365 Diagnosis: Persistent chylothorax

Procedure: Pleuroport placement

Placement of a pleuroport allows for easier removal of fluid from Beau's chest. It does not prevent or treat the cause of the chylothorax. Beau will continue to produce fluid into his chest and continue to need periodic fluid removal from his chest. "

In order to truly attempt to cure his diagnosis we would have to start with a CT and angiogram and then a second surgery. I am including pictures of the costs for the surgery that was already done, and what still needs to be done. The second surgery estimate would likely be somewhat lower due to the pleural port placement already being done.

I want to personally thank each and every person who has stepped in to help in any way. Jake, myself and my family are so grateful, and are so blessed to have such a wonderful community.

If you have not already, please consider reading our story on our gofundme page and please consider sharing or donating. Every dollar and every share gets us closer to giving this guy the happy and healthy full life that he deserves. If anyone has any questions please feel free to reach out to me.

https://gofund.me/d1dcff57

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sherrybaby14 · 5 years ago

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Crowned Christmas Wedding

Summary: You take a Christmas vacation and meet a charming stranger who may be more than he appears.

Pairing: Bucky x You

Words: 5K

Warnings: Christmas overload, fluff, blink-and-miss-it smut.

A/N: Look, I love Hallmark Christmas movies as much as the next person, this story is kind of them all mashed into one. I may be poking fun a bit, but it is all out of love.

Day one of your Christmas vacation in Romkovia, a tiny European country nestled into the mountainside. You woke up refreshed in the tiny inn and were ready to soak in the Christmas experience.

With a scarf around your neck, earmuffs, and mittens, you couldn’t contain your grin as you walked down the street. The town was bustling with shoppers, celebrators, and general festive fun.

“Ho, ho, ho,” a man dressed as Santa rang a bell. “Why good morning miss.”

“Good morning Santa!” You laughed, his gleefulness infecting your soul. “You know, I think I have something for you.”

You reached into your purse and sifted around, grabbing some money to donate of course, but that wasn’t what you were searching for.

“Here.” You held out a candy cane as you dropped the money into his coffer. “Merry Christmas.”

“For me?” His brown eyes started to water. “A present for Santa. That is a rarity.”

“Well you’re the one spreading the most cheer.” Feeling bold you leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. “You deserve all the love.”

“And what is your Christmas wish this year?” Santa tilted his head.

Your heart spoke its true desire in your mind, but you didn’t speak the words out loud.

“For my friends and family to be happy and healthy.” You smiled and shrugged.

You swore you hear the sound of bells or petals floating around you, your smile dropped as you looked around.

“Santa heard your wish dear.” He winked. “Consider it granted. Ho Ho Ho!”

Santa returned to ringing his bell and the smile returned to your face as you kept walking.

“Strange guy.” You took a sip from your coffee cup as you took in your surroundings.

The snow peaks were the perfect backdrop to the swiss feel of the town. The cobbled street was barely wide enough for cars and it seemed most people preferred walking here anyway.

A store front up ahead caught your eye. You turned to look at the beautiful display of scarves. A sign above them said “hand-knit”. You were fortunate that this country’s main language was English.

You we're about to step inside, when WHAM, something crashed into your shoulder. Your foot got a piece of ice.

“Ahh!” Your coffee went flying in the air as you fell back, bracing yourself for impact.

A pain radiated up your tailbone when you crashed into the sidewalk, your coffee cup hitting the ground with a thunk next to you.

“I’m sorry miss, are you alright.” A hand was extended out to you, but the sun was blocking your view of the man. “I get lost is my thoughts sometimes. I didn’t mean to bump into you.”

Your hand found him and you let him guide you to your feet. Once his image became clearer any piece-of-mind you had planned vanished. He had shoulder-length dark hair and a bit of a beard with clear blue eyes.

“Accidents happen.” You found your footing and felt a bit nervous. He was so pretty.

“I spilled your coffee too.” He reached down and picked up the empty cup. “There’s a shop over there. Let me purchase you a new one.”

“That’s not necessary.” You smoothed out your coat.

“Please. I insist.” His hand found your back and he began guiding you across the street.

“Well, thank you.” You decided the scarves could wait. “I’m Y/N.”

“That’s a beautiful name.” He swallowed. “You can call me Bucky.”

“Interesting name.” You laughed.

“It’s a nickname.” He held open the door to the small shop. “But I like it much better than my real one.”

The little shop was perfect. Christmas decorations hung all around as the barista’s made lattes for people laughing in ski sweaters. If your spirits weren’t lifted by the sight, the scent really nailed it home.

“Mmmm.” You breathed in the hints of mint, coffee, and chocolate. “I think I had enough coffee this morning. But I will take a hot chocolate.”

“Two hot cocoas to go please.” Bucky stepped up to the counter. “In reusable mugs. One with the Santas and one with the gingerbread men.”

He paid and then held an arm out for you to go to one of the tall tables against the deep wooden wall. You peeled off your coat and winter gear, not wanting to sweat as you had a seat. Adjusting your sweater over your leggings.

“A visitor in Romkovia? This close to Christmas?” Bucky sat opposite. “What brings you to our tiny country?”

“I wanted a European Christmas.” You signaled to the wonder around you. “Google led me to Romkovia. I figured why not?”

“Are you traveling with family?”

“Just me.” You shrugged.

“Well, is Christmas without family a Christmas at all?” He looked concerned. “I’m sorry. Your circumstances must be private.”

“Here’s a picture of my family.” You held out your phone, eager to show off the three children.

“They’re stunning.” He smiled. “I’d guess five, eight, and twelve?”

“You’re good with your ages.” You were impressed. “They’re spending Christmas with their father’s parents.”

“Your children are gorgeous. I’m sure they will miss you.” He handed the phone back.

“They’re my nieces and nephew.” You set the phone down. “My sister and her husband died in a car accident a few years back. I’ve been their guardian ever since.”

“My condolences.” Bucky’s brow furrowed. “That is noble of you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You shrugged. “My parents died when I was still in high school, so I know how important it is to have adults in your life.”

“They’re lucky to have you.” Bucky nodded. “I imagine caring for them is a full-time job.”

“I’m a grade school teacher.” You perked up, thinking about your students. “I love touching kids’ lives. Second graders this year. They are a handful. The school board tried to cut our funding for the Christmas pageant, but a group of us teachers got together, raised funds, donate our own money. It was the most fantastic pageant ever.”

You offered your phone for photos. Bucky’s eyes went wide as he scanned through the performance, a feeling of pride welled in your chest.

“And what is this?” He turned your phone toward you.

“That’s my home!” You looked at the 4000 square foot, two stories, with a finished basement, six-bedroom, four-bathroom house. “My street puts on a light decorating contest each year. We have like a candy cane lane thing going on.”

“And you’re missing that?” Bucky tilted his head. “For Romkovia?”

“My house is all decorated an on a timer.” You swiped through a few more photos. “That’s Mr. Crandle’s house. He’s the only one who refuses to participate. One year I’ll get him to smile. It’s always my New Year’s resolution.”

“Two hot chocolates!” A barista came and set down your drinks.

You began to put your coat back on as you stood up from your chair.

“Your traditions sound quite fun.” Bucky did the same. “A bit different from ours, but not too far off.”

“What had you so lost in your thoughts this morning you ran into me?” You buttoned up your coat and put on your earmuffs.

“If I tried to explain it, you would miss your entire day of exploring Romkovia.” Bucky put on his gloves. “And that would be a great disservice to you.”

“Mmmm.” You took a sip of the drink. “This is almost too decadent. I love it.”

“Is there such a thing as too decadent?” Bucky held open the door.

“I love the weather here.” You walked outside. “It’s late December, in the mountains, there’s snow on the ground, but my coat and winter gear keep from getting cold. It’s almost magical.”

“Hey mister! Miss!” A boy about twelve stopped in front of you. “The snowman building contest is about to start. We need more teams! Come on!”

Before you could respond the boy kept running. You looked at Bucky who shrugged.

“I said COME ON!” The young boys waved again.

“We better follow.” Bucky grabbed your hand.

You laughed, but didn’t object as you jogged over to the end of the street of shops. Sure enough in the town square, there was a group surrounding a few teams of two.

“Come come.” A man in a top hat signaled you over. “I believe we have enough teams now. Let the contest begin.”

“Snowman building?” You looked at the four other teams of adults. “Shouldn’t the kids participate?”

“Are you kidding?” Bucky raised an eyebrow as he picked up some snow. “Kids don’t love watching adults build snowmen where you’re from?”

“Not really.” You bent down and began gathering a ball.

There was a crowd of children cheering you on.

“They get to judge the winner.” Bucky dropped to his knees and began packing. “And I like to win.”

He stuck his tongue out at you and you tossed some snow his way.

“That’s not very teamlike!” He stuck his tongue out and licked some of the white away. “Enough fooling about. You get started on the head.”

You supposed there were worse ways to spend a morning than playing in the snow.

~~~

“And the Winner is!” The man with the top hat smiled. “Bucky and Y/N!”

All the children began to cheer as they ran over and gave you hugs. Pride ran through you as you looked at your giant snowman. He really was the best. The other competitors came and gave you congratulations.

“Your reward.” He handed over a gift card to a chocolate shop.

“I think I know how this can be put to good use.” You handed the card right over to the boy who called you over.

His face went wide.

“Now share.” You jokingly pointed a finger.

“Come on everyone!” He waved his arm to the other kids. “A treat for everyone.”

The swarm of kids ran off with the young boy. You and Bucky laughed and waved farewell to the group of children.

“That was fun.” You brushed snow off your mittens. “You’re a good partner.”

“I could use a warm-up.” Bucky walked toward the street.

There was a cart selling fresh nuts. The scent was intoxicating.

“Nothing like roasted chestnuts at Christmas time.” He paid the vendor with some coins and handed you a bag.

“I’ve never had actual chestnuts before.” You pulled one out of the bag. “Mmm. Delicious.”

“Carriage ride?” A man with a horse and sleigh seemed to appear out of nowhere, stopping right in front of you.

Bucky looked at you with a tilted chin, then held his hand up, signaling for you to climb aboard.

“I suppose so.” You jumped up.

The dark-haired man climbed in after. He noticed some fur blankets and spread them over your lap.

The horse let out a neigh and you were off.

“I’ve never been on one of these before.” You were shocked as you left the town and went into the woods.

“Nothing to worry about.” Bucky placed an arm around you. “After all that snow building you need a break. Relax.”

The sleigh whisked through the woods and you could not keep your head still as you took in the beauty of Romkovia. It was a magical place.

The conversation between you and Bucky was more than natural. It flowed like a steady beat of a carol. When the sleigh slowed down and left the woods you were a bit sad. But then your ears perked up.

“Have a holly jolly Christmas, it’s the best time of the year.” A group of carolers was at the town square.

“I love Christmas music!” You stood before the sleigh came to a stop.

“Well no time to waste then.” Bucky paid the driver. “Let’s go have a listen.”

You almost skipped over to the square, Bucky right behind you.

The singers were phenomenal. They wore old fashioned garb but sang classic hits. Santa Clause is coming to town came from them next and you felt the joy in your heart rise.

When the show came to an end you clapped and Bucky yelled in appreciation.

“This has been the most phenomenal day.” You couldn’t believe how it started out. “The best Christmas experience.”

“Excuse me.” An older woman seemed to pop up out of nowhere. “We have our annual cookie bake-off and our judge wasn’t able to attend. The two of you look like you have a nice palette. Would you mind stepping in?”

Your mouth hung open in shock.

“Of course we will.” Bucky shoved your shoulder. “Right?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to let the baker’s down.” You grinned.

“Follow me.” The woman waved toward the storefronts.

Bucky grabbed your hand with a wink. Romkovia was something special.

“Our esteemed judges have chosen.” The MC flipped open the envelope. “Beatrice’s sugar cookies as our champion!”

You nodded and smiled as Beatrice looked shocked and teared up.

“Those really were the best cookies I’ve ever tasted.” Bucky whispered in your ear.

“I know.” Your eyes went wide with exaggeration. “I don’t know how another cookie will ever compare.”

“Thank you so much for your assistance.” The MC came up and thanked you again. “You look familiar.”

Her eyes were on Bucky.

“I live around here. You may have seen me from time to time.” He shrugged.

“That must be it, but I don’t know. I feel like I should place you elsewhere.” She turned her head, trying to look him up and down.

“Thank you again, for a marvelous opportunity.” He took her hand. “Warmed our hearts and filled our bellies.”

“You’re quite welcome.” The woman seemed to drop her concern at his charm.

They dropped hands and she walked away. You reached for your coat.

“This has turned into much more of a day than I thought.” You picked up your coat. “I’m scared if I step outside Santa will appear needing help delivering presents. I don’t know how much more my Christmas spirit can handle.”

“Well, Santa will have to wait. Unfortunately, I need to head home.” Bucky put on his jacket and gloves. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“I was going to read a book by the fire.” You smiled, never anticipating a romance as part of your trip. “But I can be persuaded by a better offer.”

“A good book and a warm fire are hard to beat.” Bucky started toward the door of the bakery. “But, there’s a party tonight. Would you meet me there?”

“A party?” You looked at your clothes. “I didn’t pack an ugly sweater if it’s themed.”

“Ugly sweater?” Bucky went cross-eyed.

“It’s a…hard to explain.” You laughed. “Cultural differences.”

“I’ll have a dress delivered to you.” He smiled. “You’ll fit right in.”

“A dress?” Your brow furrowed.

“Please. I never have a date and it would mean the world to me.” He stopped at the door. “I’m not saying it’s a date. I mean, if you wanted to pretend to make me look better I wouldn’t object, or if you wanted it to be a date I wouldn’t object or..”

“I’ll be your date.” You liked awkward Bucky. “What time should I be ready by?”

“I’ll send the dress over in an hour. A car will pick you up at 7?” Bucky pushed open the door.

“A car?” That wasn’t what you were expecting. “Not you?”

“I was supposed to be home hours ago.” He winced. “Or else I would be there myself.”

“Sure.” You figured when in Romkovia. “I’ll be ready by seven.”

Bucky walked you down the street, stopping in front of the inn. He leaned forward and placed a light kiss on your cheek.

“Thank you.” He smiled. “For today, and agreeing to tonight.”

“I had fun too.” Your cheek warmed where his lips had been. “Tonight?”

“Till tonight.” He squeezed your hand as he walked away.

You felt like you were on cloud nine as you went up to your room. Curious what type of dress Bucky was going to send over.

Dress wasn’t the right word. It was a gown. A fancier gown than you’d ever seen. It felt tailor-made as you slipped it on. A bright red number that flared out and accentuated your curves in all the right places.

When it was delivered you thought about canceling, but realized you couldn’t. You didn’t have his number. You told yourself it was cultural differences and set out to pile your hair on the top of your head and doing your make-up the best you could to match the beautiful outfit.

It came with shoes and long white gloves that went up past your elbows. When you looked in the mirror at yourself you almost cried.

“I look like a princess.” Your mouth parted as you grabbed the white fur cloak Bucky’d sent and the small matching handbag.

You realized you never found out what he had done for a living all day. Based on the outfit you assumed it was something that paid well.

“You’re not a gold digger.” You rolled your eyes.

Bucky knew that. You never would have accepted these gifts. The clock was almost seven and you lifted your head and walked down to the lobby.

“Lovely.” The Innkeeper was at the bottom of the stairs. “Are you going to the palace?”

“The palace?” You held your gown up, careful not to trip.

“It’s the royal Christmas ball.” She reached out for your hands. “You will be the most beautiful person there.”

“Do you know a man named Bucky?” You tried to think of his last name. “Longer brown hair scruffled beard. Blue eyes?”

“I think with a name like ‘Bucky’ I would remember him.” She shook her head. “Is he your date? Maybe he is a palace guard. I know they all get invited. It’s quite a celebration.”

“He said party. I was ready for cheese dip and charades.” You dropped her hand and pointed to the dress. “Not waltzes and champagne.”

“You’ll be the belle!” She kissed your cheek. “Your carriage awaits.”

Your stomach dropped, half expecting a real carriage. Instead, there was a town car with a driver, opening the door for you.

“Have fun!” The Innkeeper and her husband waved as you climbed in the back, worried where the night was headed but butterflies in your stomach told you someplace magical.

“Announcing Miss Y/L/N.” A man boomed your voice when you entered the palace.

All eyes turned to you. You didn’t know if your shocked face matched their own. You couldn’t focus for too long as your eyes went to the ceiling of the massive ballroom. A Christmas ball at a real European castle. Your head was swimming.

The next guest was announced and a waiter handed you a glass of champagne. You made your way amongst the strangers, soaking it all in, hoping that Bucky would swoop in and guide you through the night.

“Funny, I didn’t realize you were inviting peasants this year.” The voice caught your attention.

You turned to see a stick skinny woman in a beautiful blue gown about your age. Her face was twisted in anger as she spoke to an older woman who matched her in beauty and grace. Her face looked just as disappointed as she looked you up and down.

Then you noticed the golden crown nestled on the top of her head and again your mouth hung open.

“Your majesty.” You bowed, never thinking you would ever meet a real Royal. “I was not expecting the honor.”

“In Romkovia we go by ‘Your Grace’.” The queen approached you. “Something you would know if you were from here. If you were one of us. But you never will be. You need to accept that and leave.”

“I’m sorry.” You were stunned and confused at the same time. “I am in your beautiful country visiting. I meant no offense.”

“Tell me.” She held her shoulder back. “What makes you think you’re good enough for the Prince? Good enough for Romkovia? You don’t know what it takes to lead. You’re not a royal and you will never be one.”

“Ummm.” You bit your lip. “What?”

“ANNOUNCING THE CROWN PRINCE OF ROMKOVIA, HEIR APPARENT TO THE CROWN JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES.” The booming announcement made you look away from the Queen.

The sight at the top of the stairs made you almost stumble. There was Bucky, short-haired, styled back, no beard, dressed like a Prince.

Someone whacked into your shoulder on one side and then another as the queen and the beauty walked passed you.

Bucky came down the stairs one at a time. His eyes scanned the crowd and stopped at you. A smile spread across his face.

The crowd went back to chatting and the orchestra music started again. The queen and the other woman both tried for his attention, but he brushed them off as he made his way to you.

“My lady.” He lifted your gloved hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles. “May I have this dance?”

“You’re the friggin Pince?!?” You spoke through gritted teeth.

“Sometimes I like to disguise myself amongst my people.” Bucky led you to the dance floor. “It cheers me up. But nothing like the cheer, I felt with you today.”

He took your hand in the air and his other found your hip as he began to lead you around the dance floor.

“A warning would have been nice!” You glanced around the room. “That’s why the woman recognized you at the cookie contest?”

“I clean up nicely.” He winked. “And so do you. You look lovely.”

“I don’t appreciate being lied to.” You tried to focus on him and not the eyes on you as you moved across the dance floor.

“I never lied.” He spun you in a circle. “I felt a connection with you like none other. The sleigh ride, the carolers. All of it.”

Your heart grew warm at the memories.

“What does my title have to do with any of that?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing.” You sighed. “I felt it too. Prince or not. Not more secrets though. Agreed?”

The song ended and Bucky bowed, you curtsied like the other dancing ladies.

“In the interest of being honest.” Bucky offered you an arm. You wrapped yours around it as he led you off the dance floor.

“I don’t think your mother likes me.” The queen glared daggers as you walked by.

“She wants me to marry Regina.” He sighed. “I’ve refused multiple times. But she will not relent.”

“I take it Regina is the beautiful woman whose face is in a permanent snarl?” You noticed her seconds away from flipping you off as you walked by.

“That’s one way to put it.” Bucky paused in the corner. “I don’t want to talk about my mother or Regina. I want to talk about us, about today, about the magic around us.”

“It was magic, wasn’t it?” You felt giddy, knowing it wasn’t just you.

“I have a confession. Today, I was so upset because I’d come to terms that I was about to lose everything.” Bucky took both your hands. “But then like an absolute angel you crossed my path. I’ve had more fun today, more fun with you than anyone. Due to a very old royal decree I am to lose my crown at midnight on Christmas eve if I am not wed. Will you be my wife?”

You blinked at him several times. This could not be happening. You started to look around the room.

“Y/N?” Bucky looked concerned.

“I’m just trying to find the secret camera.” You didn’t drop his hands. “Is this a prank?”

“I know you felt it too. Our connection.” He reached in his pocket. “Please. Make me the happiest man on Earth?”

You brought your free hand to your mouth as you saw the biggest diamond in existence.

“But…I’m a stranger.” You felt dizzy. “And your mom clearly hates me!”

“But, dare I say it, I love you.” Bucky pulled you close. “You and only you.”

“You don’t know me.” You touched his chest, not sure you wanted to getaway.

“I know your soul.” He smiled. “The rest will be surprises along the way. All of which I’m sure to enjoy.”

It felt like the room was closing in. Your heart screams yes, your brain telling it to calm down. Then your eyes settled on a rat looking man in the corner. His nose giant and his mustache looking like whiskers.

“That is my evil cousin Gerald.” Bucky sighed. “He is watching us, because without my wedding, he inherits the throne and will no doubt turn Romkovia into shambles.”

“I…I can’t…this is too much pressure.” You took a step back as Bucky’s arms fell. “Marry Beatrice then. Save the country.”

“If I have to spend a lifetime without love. It will turn me as hard as my mother. I’ll be the one who puts Romkovia in shambles.” There was a pleading to his voice. “I need you. Please.”

You felt yourself slipping away.

“I need air.” You spun. “Don’t follow me.”

You made your way to the balcony. Bursting outside. The cool air on your skin was refreshing. The weather here was truly magical. Tears came to your eyes as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

“I hope those are tears of joy.” A man stepped out from the corner of the stone veranda.

“You.” Your eyes went up and down his red tuxedo. His brown eyes were unmistakable. “You’re the Santa from this morning.”

“You don’t like your Christmas wish?” He came next to you.

“My friends and family stay happy and healthy?” You smiled. “I appreciate it quite a bit.”

“That was what your mouth spoke. But I heard your heart. You wished for love.” He leaned against the railing. “And isn’t that what you’ve found? In a day no less, with a prince who worships you. What is there to cry about?”

“This is too much, too soon.” You laughed. “I can’t handle this.”

“Listen to your heart.” He touched your chest. “It’s never wrong.”

“Who are you talking to?” The voice of the queen made you snap your head.

You turned to look back at the man touching your heart, but there was nobody there.

“Santa?” You glanced around for him.

“My son has made me realize something.” The queen walked over to you. “I saw it in his eyes just now. The same look is in yours. She grabbed your hands. Where there is love there is my blessing.”

“Your Grace. I don’t know what to say.” Check off evil-mom.

“Say yes.” She squeezed your hands. “Let my son make you as happy as you make him.”

She took your arm in hers and led you back inside. The entire ball had stopped and was looking at you.

“I realized I may have forgotten an important part of tradition.” Bucky dropped to one knee on the dance floor. “Please, marry me?”

He held up the ring box.

“Ugh.” His mother rolled her eyes and she dropped your hand and grabbed her own. “Don’t use that old antique. This one is much preferred.”

She handed her son her own engagement ring. He beamed up at her then back at you, now holding an even more gorgeous diamond that meant so much more.

You didn’t know what to say, your insides struggling, but if there was one person’s advice you could count on it was Santa. So you listened to your heart.

“Yes.” You didn’t have time to think before Bucky was on his feet.

His arms wrapped around you as his lips crashed against yours. The entire ballroom exploded in applause. Christmas magic was truly in the air.

Christmas Eve was a blur. You spent all morning readying for your wedding. The dress was ornate, regal, and pure white.

When the doors of the chapel opened for you to walk down the aisle your heart melted. In the pews were your nieces and nephew accompanied by their grandparents. Then you saw every one of your students and their parents. Then your neighbors, including mean old Mr. Crandle with a huge smile on his face.

Bucky waited for you at the top of the aisle.

“I had a private jet chartered for them.” He took your hands as he whispered in your ear. “As a wedding gift.”

“And here I was going to buy you a scarf.” You whispered back.

“You’ve already given me the best gift.” He kissed your hand. “Love.”

And what love it was.

The wedding flew by. You’d changed gowns three times and by the time the dancing was done and all the children were asleep it was time for you and Bucky to retire. Your nerves were through the roof as he led you through the palace.

“Welcome home.” He opened the door to his private rooms.

Your voice caught in your throat as you walked inside.

“Of course mother gave us an estate as a wedding gift.” Bucky walked over to the giant four poster bed. “And it will be yours to decorate as you please.”

“This is a fairytale.” You sat on the bed.

“This if your life.” Bucky put a hand on your cheek. “My Princess.”

His lips found yours as he laid you back on to the bed. He was gentle, his tongue dancing with yours in a sublime kiss. Your hands went for his clothing and he began to peel away the layers. You wanted to have all of your prince, your husband.

He sat up and stripped down, then grabbed your arm and pulled you up, pushing your gown off. You rose from the bed and shimmied out of the thing, wanting nothing between the two of you. Bucky continued to kiss you as he kicked off his pants and shoes.

“You are exquisite in every way.” He laid you back on the bed while he loomed over you, his eyes taking in your shape.

Normally you were nervous your first time with anyone, but it was different with Bucky, everything was. You held your hand up, signaling for him to come down.

He honored your request and crashed his lips to yours as he moved you back deeper into the plush bed.

The last few days now felt like nothing but a tease and you were more than ready for him. You parted your legs and bent your knees, then reached for him. Your eyes popped up when you felt how large he was. Royal indeed.

“Keep touching me like that and I won’t be able to consummate this marriage.” Bucky kissed down your jaw to your neck.

You moved your hands to his hips and guided him forward. His cock found your entrance and he pushed inside.

Your back arched as he slid into you with ease, your body waiting and ready for him.

“It’s like you were sent for me.” He kissed down your clavicle. “My special Christmas gift.”

A moan left your mouth as he began to pump in and out of you, each thrust sending sparks through your body. You rocked against him, both of you turning into a sweaty mess as he brought you alive in more ways than you thought possible.

“Bucky…I….I’m going to.” You were running out of breath.

“Open for me.” His teeth dragged your skin. “Pull the ribbon, yank the bow. Come undone.”

Your toes curled as you exploded underneath him, pleasure shooting out from your core. You gasped and moaned as he continued, elongating your orgasm.

“Such a wonderful present.” He bottomed out inside of you. “My gift.”

His seed filled you up, coating your walls and womb. Normally you would have objected, but you were married. There was nothing wrong with trying for little princes and princess right away.

Bucky pulled out and rolled to his side, snuggling you against him.

“Merry Christmas.” He kissed the top of your head. “Wife.”

A smile crossed your face. Princess would take stop time to get used to, but you liked wife right away.

#bucky x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #christmas fanfic #hallmark christmas #hallmark #christmas

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years ago

Text

Dawn in Your Eyes Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Alfie put off the favor that he owed his cousin. It wasn’t so much a favor as he felt it was an obligation. She asked and he seldom turned her down. It still wasn’t an ideal situation. He had to ask Julia for a favor. And it was a favor this time around because he was sure Elizabeth wouldn’t stop asking until he gave her a definitive answer. Either Julia said absolutely, unequivocally no. Or she’d caved in and agreed which Alfie thought was highly unlikely.

Still, Elizabeth would call his bluff if he said he asked when he never did. So he made the very short trip over to the office. The secretary in the front recognized the gangster just as everyone in Camden did.

“Mrs. Ellner in?” Alfie asked without pleasantries.

“She is. Could you take a seat to wait for her? She’ll be out in a minute.” There was always the brief hesitation in someone’s voice when they knew who he was. The hint of worry that his reputation would explode and he’d become violent. Rumors spread fast. Most people knew that Alfie only had issues with people who gave him a good enough reason. Sure, he could be unreasonable at times but not a bone in his body was about to get upset at a secretary who asked him to wait a moment.

He nodded and sat down in one of the love seats that had been set up in the small front room. He rested his cane by his knee and folded his hands on his lap. Every so often the secretary, a young woman who looked no older than twenty-five, glanced nervously at him. But there wasn’t anything he could do to reassure her that he was calm. Even his idle stance was intimidating, he knew that. It was carefully crafted.

After just a few minutes of waiting, the door behind the secretary’s desk opened. Julia stepped out and frowned when her eyes fell on Alfie.

“Mr. Solomons, we don’t have a meeting scheduled.”

“Yeah, well, thought you liked dropping in unannounced.” He stood up with a grunt.

The older woman raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t argue. “Why don’t you come in?” She held out an arm towards her office.

“Nah, I’ll be quick.” He promised. “My cousin stopped by the other day asking ‘bout Caroline.”

Julia’s expression soured even more. “Alfie, I told you…”

“I know what you said. This ain’t about me.” He held up a hand as he clarified. “She’s looking for someone to help with her husband’s charity work.”

Julia knew about Elizabeth and knew her husband was a very popular politician in London. The young man who was taking Parliament by storm. Attractive to the elite of London and the working class. “I’d be more than happy to help with that. If you’d give me her information, I’ll get in touch with her as soon as I’m able to.”

“She requested Caroline’s help personally.”

The two stood in silence for a moment. Julia’s eyes never leaving Alfie. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she considered the pros and cons to the agreement. “This isn’t one of your ploys.”

“I don’t do business with my cousin or her husband. Politics really isn’t my forte, now is it? Prefer to stay out of all that muck.”

Julia studied every inch of his face, trying to spot a tell of his deception. But as far as she knew, the man was being honest. “If I find out that you’re taking advantage of the situation…”

“Far too busy.” He interrupted. “I’ll give you my cousin’s information for you to pass ‘long to Caroline. That way, I’m not involved in any sort of the matter.” He reached into his coat to pull out a slip of paper with Elizabeth’s number and address.

Julia took it, suspicion still clouding her face. “Very well. I’ll give this to Caroline.” She agreed and placed the paper on her secretary’s desk. The young woman doing everything she could to pretend that she wasn’t hanging off their every word.

“Always a pleasure talking to you, Mrs. Ellner.” Alfie sighed and turned to leave. Yes, he would do what he could to stay away from Caroline. But he had a sneaking suspicion that Elizabeth would make that very difficult for him. She had a habit of sticking her nose into places it didn’t belong.

~~~~~~~~~

“Mr. Levi, I just wanted to thank you again for allowing me this opportunity.” Robert led Caroline into his office. “I must say I don’t know much about politics.”

He smiled. “That’s quite alright. My wife can answer any questions you may have. I’m afraid she’s a bit of a social butterfly and enjoys talking.” He chuckled. Of course, Richard absolutely loved this about his dear Elizabeth. She was nothing like the women his parents had intended for him to be betrothed to. Her intellect was unmatched and sometimes he felt a little taken aback by her level of problem-solving and critical thinking. They often had animated discussions about whatever crossed their minds. Politics, current events, history, technology, and science. Sometimes they disagreed and became a little heated. But they never went to bed angry with one another.

Richard felt like he could gloat a bit. He had by far, the best marriage out of any of his old mates from university. Seldom did he go very long without complimenting his wife. The woman he claimed was smarter than half of the Commons.

“That’s alright. We come from a very similar background so I imagine we’d have much to talk about.” Caroline smiled and instructed Pilot to lie down after Richard pulled out a chair for her.

“I can imagine it’s difficult, navigating the world full of people who don’t quite understand what it’s like for you. My Lizzie always calls me daft,” The young man chuckled and sat behind his desk. “But I often feel guilty because I don’t truly know the obstacles she faces.”

“I assure you that she’s probably just grateful you’re aware,” Caroline said gently. It was refreshing to hear a man so concerned over his wife’s welfare.

He smiled and carefully adjusted a framed photograph of his wedding day. Richard’s family was Jewish, but they were far wealthier and less orthodox than Elizabeth’s side. His smile faded a bit when he spotted Alfie towards the back of the wedding party. He stood solemnly, his hands laced together in front of him, rings visible.

Elizabeth had informed her husband of her coy plot. She mentioned Alfie’s adoration for Caroline, although Richard thought she might’ve been exaggerating. Since Alfie and he didn’t see eye to eye on many things, Richard was uneasy with the idea. Caroline seemed sweet and although he knew blindness didn’t define a person, he worried Alfie might use her or her aunt’s wealth.

“I do apologize for my wife’s tardiness.” Richard checked his pocket watch. “She’s keen on speaking to everyone on her way here.”

“Are you speaking about your wife behind her back?” Elizabeth strolled in with Buck by her side. “For your information, zeeskeit, I’m only five minutes late.”

“Which is a miracle.” He grinned and stood up to kiss her cheek. “I’ve just been speaking to Miss Ellner a bit.”

Elizabeth found a seat beside Caroline and rested her cane against her husband’s desk. “As we discussed over the phone, Richard would love to fund the creation of another chapter of your aunt’s charity. And I’m sure your aunt would be pleased if you took control of this chapter.”

Caroline’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That is very generous. I’m not sure if I’m…well I don’t think I’d be so perfect for that role. A woman like me…”

“Knows exactly what she’s doing,” Elizabeth assured her and reached out to touch her arm. “Who could possibly be better? Your aunt must have taught you a lot. Aside from her, you must be the most knowledgeable.”

“Wow, well I-I’m not sure what to say.”

Richard opened a folder of plans. “We’ve several prospective properties, all very well kept and in good areas. There are people who would be willing to donate to such a cause, as well as wealthier families who would be willing to pay for your services. That way, you’d have resources to donate more dogs to those who can’t afford it.” He laid out a few papers in front of him. “There’s a lovely place in Belgravia. There’s a location in Kensington or one in Westminster that are both suitable.”

Caroline’s lips moved slightly but she couldn’t get the words out. The names of such prestigious areas of London were alarming. “I uh, well, they must be very nice but I don’t think I can afford to relocate to those areas.”

Elizabeth brushed off her concern. “Nonsense, we’ll make sure to make accommodations for you. No need to worry about money. Construction would begin as soon as we’ve the permits. Meanwhile, Richard and I will start to spread the news. If you’d like, it would be lovely to have a charity event to raise funds. That way, people may meet you and see how lovely you are.”

The woman spoke with such intense passion that it was a bit difficult to hold the same optimism. Caroline had never attempted such a feat before. She wasn’t even sure she could run the chapter in Camden Town. But she was sure her aunt wouldn’t want to move. She loved Camden too much and would turn up her nose at somewhere like Kensington. It didn’t mean that Caroline would fit any better.

She relied so much on Julia. “I’ve never lived on my own before.” She admitted. Of course, what was the shame in that? She was a blind woman. Society would always keep her boxed in with relatives.

“Well, maybe we could make arrangements. Or, oh Richard, we’ve got the extra bedroom on the third floor.” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I know it’s much better to have your own space but I’ve got a lovely young woman who helps me ‘round the house. That way, you wouldn’t be on your own.”

Her tone was so affectionate and caring, Caroline had a hard time turning her down. “I suppose we could try it out, although I wouldn’t want to intrude on your life.”

Richard chuckled. “It would be nice to have someone else around the house to take sides in our debates. And Misty is very kind, she takes wonderful care of Lizzie when she needs it.”

Caroline instinctually reached out for Pilot. The Newfoundland’s heavy fur calming her down. The prospect was so thrilling and yet so frightening. She’d never made such a leap before. But did she really want to stay in Camden? Under her aunt’s strong wing. Being so close to a man she actually adored. The man who had rejected her.

“I think it sounds like a wonderful idea.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Aerated Bread Company of Camden Town,” Alfie muttered, the phone receiver balanced between his shoulder and ear.

“Alfie, kuzin, you’ve yet to contact me. It’s been nearly three months!” Elizabeth’s incredulous voice came from the other line.

“Right, Liz, been busy.” It wasn’t a bad thing to hear from his cousin, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk. And he knew exactly what she was calling to talk about.

“Well, have you even received my invitation?” She demanded.

Alfie eyed the cream-colored invitation muddled in the mix of paperwork on his desk. “Erm, no.”

“Bullshit!” She replied sourly. “You did and you didn’t respond.”

“Liz, to be fucking honest m’not gonna crash some fucking charity event.”

“You’re not crashing it ‘cause I’ve fucking invited you, moron.”

He grumbled and grabbed the invitation, shaking off loose papers that covered it. “I ain’t goin’. Julia’ll have my bollocks.”

“She’s not going.”

“Eh?”

“I said she’s not going. A friend of hers passed away so she’ll be attending the funeral. However, she gave permission for Caroline to go. Frankly, I’m not sure she needs permission. She’s lived with us for nearly two months now.”

Alfie’s thoughts came to a full stop. Perhaps it was the independence that she’d been craving. A bit of leeway from her aunt. A position in the charity that those around her had to acknowledge. It was everything Alfie expected her to be able to do. Damned if he wanted to congratulate her. But he didn’t think he had a place in her life anymore. Not after he’d turned away even if it was at the request of Julia.

“I can hear it in her voice, Alf, she wants to see you again.” Elizabeth’s voice softened. “When I said I’d invited you, she asked if I would tell her the moment you replied.”

Alfie forced himself to read the details of the event.

Sunday, nine-thirty, the Ritz, Palm Court.

It sounded exhausting already. But the chance to see Caroline was enough to get him to cave in. “I’ll be there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Social events such as the ones Elizabeth loved, Alfie absolutely abhorred. Men and women who were richer than ninety-nine percent of the population. Most of those hadn’t ever had to work a day in their life for said money. They simply won the lottery of life and were born to a family with riches spilling out of their pockets.

Alfie had half a mind to extort all of them for a piece of the pie. Certainly they all had some skeletons in the many closets of their grand estates. But that would be exhausting work as well. And it was enough that he actually agreed to attend the damned thing. He knew that once he said yes to going, he’d have to go. If he didn’t, Elizabeth would be furious and pout when she inevitably showed up at the bakery the next day to pester him.

It was easier just to get it over with. Go for half an hour, mingle, be seen by Richard, speak to Elizabeth, congratulate Caroline, and then he could leave.

Dressed well, Alfie cleaned up a little and wore a derby hat instead of his usual wide-brimmed cap. He wasn’t opposed to wearing nice things; in fact, it was entertaining to show off his wealth sometimes. Even if he didn’t exactly fit the standard of men there. Didn’t fucking matter.

The lavish Palm Court was filled with all of Richard and Elizabeth’s friends, colleagues, and even distant acquaintances. The more the merrier. The French style created a golden, cream hue. Lighting up the atmosphere as champagne was poured and laughter reflected off the many mirrors and chandeliers.

Alfie moved through the crowd of socialites, using his stature to move the chattering heirs. He eventually found his cousin donned in an emerald green dress, a necklace of complementary gemstones, and elbow-length gloves. Buck was not by her side, perhaps having a night off, Richard taking his place. Elizabeth linked arms with her husband, chattering away. Richard smiling and laughing along with her, enamored by his wife’s charm and wit.

“Richard, Liz.” Alfie cleared his throat and swallowed his enormous pride to greet them politely.

“Alfie, so glad you could come.” Richard thanked him for pleasantries with a firm handshake.

“Alfie, I knew you wouldn’t stand us up!” Elizabeth exclaimed happily. “Richard, where is Caroline? Is she nearby?”

“I believe she’s speaking with Mrs. Montgomery. Should I get her?”

“No, no, don’t worry ‘bout it, mate.” Alfie balked and took the excuse not to see the woman. “Might not want to see me here.”

“Pft, nonsense. Misty said she looks a dream and you must congratulate her on her success.” Elizabeth insisted firmly. “Go find her.”

Alfie glanced at Richard who shrugged and pointed to the left of them. “Fine.” He muttered and went to follow his direction. A few feet away, past a few tipsy people was Caroline standing with Pilot by her side. Misty was absolutely correct. The woman looked a sight to behold. No doubt his cousin had insisted she wear something eye-catching. She wore a cream-colored gown that grazed the floor and looked like it was made of pure silk, gleaming in the soft light. Her ash-brown hair was done up in elaborate braids and curls. A gold barrette adorning her hair. A necklace of gold and diamonds rested comfortably against her collarbone.

It was like he’d never seen her before. She was beautiful, there was no doubt, but he wondered what she truly felt about the pomp that his cousin had surrounded her in.

Alfie stopped about a foot away, waiting for her to finish up her conversation with an older woman who looked like she wouldn’t care if she dropped a hundred pounds down the drain.

Pilot glanced up at Alfie, a hint of recognition in his brown eyes, but he remained by Caroline.

Eventually, the woman touched Caroline’s arm and wished her luck. Alfie stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Lot of congratulations are in order, ain’t they?”

Caroline’s face lit up. “Alfie?”

“Surprised I showed up?” He asked sheepishly.

She smiled and turned towards the direction of his voice. “I didn’t think it would be your cup of tea but I hoped you would come.”

It was much more difficult than Alfie anticipated. To hear the breathless excitement in her gentle voice. The hope in her gray eyes. To see her dressed to the nines. He was far too weak. “Well, had to see the woman behind all the buzz.”

She blushed and shrugged. “I think Elizabeth is the buzz, not me.”

“Nah, it’s you.” He smiled.

She bit her painted lip and tilted her head to the side. “Would you escort me outside? I’d like to bring Pilot out and I want to get a breath of air.”

Too weak. “Sure, love.”

She took his arm and he led her out of the room vibrating with voices and music. The lobby was a bit quieter, albeit still lavish and stuffy. It wasn’t until they walked outside were they both able to breathe.

~~~~~~~~~`

They walked across the street to Green Park. The smaller park framed with trees that were just starting to bud in the young spring months. Caroline let Pilot’s lead a little looser so he could sniff at the grass. His massive paws dragging through the damp grass while Alfie and she walked slowly along the path. Lamps cast a dim glow over the empty park. The stars were dulled but some were visible through the intertwining tree branches.

“Caroline I-”

Alfie began to speak but she interrupted. “Is this park prettier than Camden Gardens?” She asked curiously.

“I uh…” He glanced around the dark park. “Bit plain I s’pose.”

“It’s nearly spring though.”

“Don’t make it pretty.”

She stopped and reached out for his hand. “What makes it pretty?”

He swallowed and stared at her made-up face. Cautiously, he ran his thumb over her smooth cheek. “Its character. Don’t matter how many flowers are out or what the fucking trees look like. S’bout the heart and soul of it. I love Camden ‘cause of the people there. Sure, may not look as good as a place like this, but the people are all snakes, ain’t they?”

“I think you see the worst in the world.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist so he wouldn’t move his hand from her face. “You see the worst in yourself. You’re blind, Alfie.”

He couldn’t breathe properly. “Can see you.” He mumbled.

“Can you?”

He grunted a confirmation.

“What do you see?” She asked, refusing to drop the issue.

He studied her face as if he didn’t already know what it looked like. As if he were expecting to see something else or something new. But she was as beautiful as he remembered. Tender eyes, clouded over but still receptive. Still full of emotion. Her delicate lips and soft jawline. “I see a woman I would kill to be in love with. A woman who would be the fucking light of my life. The woman I would never fucking tire of. But she’s the woman I can’t have.”

Her lips set firmly and she found his cheek. “Are you looking at me?” She felt the nod of his head. “Then you’re looking at the woman that you already have. You are so much more than the man you think you are. So much better than this awful world we’ve been born into.”

Alfie closed his eyes and leaned into her hand resting on his cheek. “You can’t forgive me sins.”

“No, I can’t. But that doesn’t mean I can’t still care for you. And it doesn’t mean you won’t care for me.”

He forced himself to open his eyes. So weak. “I would protect you to the ends of the fucking Earth.”

A smile formed on her face and she stepped closer to him. “And I’d love you all the way there.”

He chuckled and pressed his forehead to hers. “Your aunt’s going to fucking kill me.”

“Not with me standing in front of you.” She murmured and tilted her head to kiss him.

~~~~~~~~~

Elizabeth wouldn’t stop rejoicing after he told her what had happened. In fact, it took Alfie a few times to get her to calm down and stop making such a scene.

“Oh, it won’t take long to arrange a wedding. Somewhere outside, the gardens. We’ll make a beautiful chuppah!”

“Hey, now,” He pointed at his cousin when the startling mention of a wedding left her mouth. “’Nough of that nonsense. We ain’t getting married.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips for a second but she couldn’t hold back her excitement. “Oh, but Alfie it’s clear how much you love her!” She gushed. “I can hear it in your voice every time you talk about her.”

Love. Oh boy, if that didn’t send Alfie reeling in a panic. He had spoken about love to her the night before. The night they kissed for the first time. But it was just a word. Elizabeth spoke the word like it was an everlasting commitment. A commitment before the eyes of God. Hardly anything scared Alfie. He’d looked down the barrel of a gun countless times before without fear. Death was merely an old friend that he was waiting to meet up with again. But love. Love made his stomach twist into knots with worry. How terrifying it would be to be in love. The possibility of letting her down. Of never being everything she needed. The inevitable. The day that he simply wasn’t enough and she withdrew. Or God forbid something happened to her because of his foolishness.

“Hush now.” Alfie scolded Elizabeth. “I shoulda never fucking told you anything.”

His cousin pouted and sighed. “Why do you try to fight with every emotion you have?” She asked from her seat by his desk.

“I don’t.” He muttered and tried to busy himself by the filing cabinet. But he wasn’t really doing anything productive. Just picking up some papers, shuffling them around, glancing at the words, and putting them away again.

“Well, you fight every good emotion. You’ve no issue when it comes to anger.” She agreed with a shrug. “But when you have a chance to be happy, you shy away from it. Why are you so afraid of love?”

Alfie sometimes wondered whether Elizabeth’s blindness gave her a higher level of perception. Some sort of energy she picked up from every word he spoke. Maybe that’s why she was such a good socialite. She could read people without even being able to see their face. “Why d’you feel like you can worm your way into me personal life?” He retorted childishly.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Fine. Be like that. Just don’t ask me about how Caroline talks about you.”

He scoffed. “You’re such a little yenta. Don’t you have friends to gossip with?”

She looked a little disappointed that her ploy didn’t pan out. “She speaks of you so fondly, Alfie.” Ignoring his comment, she continued on to try and crack him open and get to the soft spot that she knew he had.

But he simply grunted in response.

“Sometimes I ask if we’re talking about the same Alfie because apparently you’re a whole lot nicer to her than you are to me. Says you’re the kindest man she’s ever met and the only person to really treat her so gently without making her feel useless.”

Alfie paused and stared ahead at the clock on the wall. “Well…” He exhaled heavily and shook his head. “Liz, it ain’t right.”

“What?” She demanded. “What isn’t right? That you’ve treated a woman with respect? That you’ve developed feelings for her? You’re not heartless, Alfred, even if you’ve tried to convince the world that you are.” Caroline stood up and wrapped her hand around Buck’s lead. “I think you should step away from who you are when you step inside this bakery. Put yourself back in that moment last night with her. You didn’t walk away, you kissed her. There had to have been some reason and I think you can’t keep running from that reason.” She passed by him and walked out of his office. Leaving him to think.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfie left work early. Abandoning Ollie without explanation. Ishmael drove him to Kensington. Since Caroline still lived with Richard and Elizabeth, he’d known her address for months. But he’d kept his distance.

Their building was a multi-leveled apartment with a polished, white exterior. A balcony fixed over the stairs held up by Tuscan orders. When he traveled up the front steps, he noticed a large bouquet left at the door.

Alfie stooped down to pick it up and knocked on the door.

Misty opened the door. The young woman who cared after the house and Elizabeth was familiar with him. And like most of London, she was cautious whenever he stopped by.

“Mr. Solomons, good afternoon.” She smiled politely. “Mrs. Levi isn’t in now, I’m afraid she’s gone on a walk.”

“Hello, Misty. I’m actually after Caroline if she’s in.” He explained feeling very out of place on the front step of the lavish building.

Misty’s eyes went from his face to the bouquet in his hands. “Oh…yes, I believe she’s in the parlor. I’ll fetch her.”

Alfie realized the implications and handed the flowers to her. “Erm, these were left on the porch. Just wanted to bring them in for you.”

“Oh.” A hint of relief passed over her face. “Yes, thank you.” She took the bouquet and went inside, opening the door wider for him. “Come in.”

He stepped inside and waited by the door. He could hear Misty explaining that Alfie had come calling. A few moments later, Caroline came out of the parlor. She was without the aid of her cane or Pilot. Instead, she walked with slight caution, reaching out to touch the doorframe and other guiding points. After months at Richard and Elizabeth’s, she had become familiar with the layout and could find her way around without much issue.

She smiled. “Elizabeth said you’d be around soon.”

Of course, she did. Although Alfie hadn’t specified ever visiting, his cousin knew him well enough to see through his weaknesses. And he had a severe weakness for Caroline. “Can we speak privately?”

“Of course.”

Caroline held his arm, letting him lead her back to the parlor. Pilot was curled up on the rug and lifted his head when he saw the familiar man enter. His tail wagged but he remained still and alert.

Alfie sat beside her on the sofa. A book sat on the coffee table in front of where she’d been sitting before. Grateful for a distraction, he picked up the book and opened it to the marked page.

The pages were lined with braille. He grazed his fingers over the indentations that were unrecognizable to him. When she was younger, Elizabeth had shown how her name and his name felt written in braille. But he hadn’t learned any further.

Misty entered the room with the bouquet of flowers that she had placed in a crystal vase with fresh water. “Miss Ellner, someone left you flowers.” She explained and set the vase down on the coffee table.

The scent of freesia and rose bloomed in the parlor. Caroline reached out to feel the fragile petals between her fingers. “Who sent them?” She asked.

Misty read the card that had been left among the flowers. “A Mr. Thompson.” She answered. “He wrote how he wishes to see you again and hopes you’ll be in touch.”

“Oh, yes.” Caroline nodded. “We spoke at the gala. He was a very nice man. Could you write a thank you note for him?”

“Yes, miss.” Misty nodded and left the parlor again, shutting the door behind her.

Alfie was seeing red. A man had sent her flowers? A rich man? A man who had tried to woo her at the gala? The outright nerve of such a stuck up, entitled, snake.

Caroline didn’t sense the jealousy positively radiating from Alfie beside her. She simply sighed and plucked the petal from the rose. “How utterly pointless.” She mumbled.

That piqued his interest and he glanced over. “Eh?”

“Oh, I just…I don’t really like receiving flowers as a gift.” She admitted sheepishly. “I understand it was a good gesture. I just…I’d much rather they were left to grow instead of being cut down. I feel like I can’t truly appreciate them when they’re wasting away in a vase.”

“What sorta gifts do you like?” Alfie set down her book. He was mildly pleased to see that she appeared uninterested by Mr. Thompson’s gesture.

“Oh, I don’t necessarily need anything.” She shrugged. “I much prefer spending time with people.”

Since Caroline didn’t explicitly name him as a person she liked to hang out with, Alfie wouldn’t make any assumptions. Instead, he just nodded and scratched his beard. “So…were thinking about that night.”

A small played on her face. “Were you now? Second-guessing kissing the blind girl.”

Even though she spoke with a teasing lilt, his face went a little pink. “No, no…I don’t go ‘round kissing people and then ignore them.” He tried to defend himself.

She laughed and touched his knee. “Alfie, I’m playing with you. Although I was a little worried that you’d maybe-oh I dunno. Maybe you were caught up in the moment and now you’ve got cold feet.”

He touched her cheek and gently guided her so she was facing him. Elizabeth was right. Damn it, she was always right and it drove Alfie fucking insane. But she was. And she was right about Caroline. Alfie tried too hard to push away all the feelings he was told were weak. Love, affection, humility, tenderness. All the things that took away from the steel exterior he’d worked so hard to craft.

But Caroline walked right through that barrier. Passing through as if it were nothing but a thin mist in the air. A simple sheet of silk separating them. She grabbed a hold of his heart and refused to let go.

Alfie sighed and leaned forward to kiss her.

She immediately smiled when she felt the tickle of his beard against her cheek. Their lips molding perfectly together, fostering the warmth between them. Her hand lifting from his neck and rested on the back of his neck. Her light, airy touch caused goosebumps to run down his arms.

When they parted, both of them had been rendered breathless. Caroline laughed softly and pressed her forehead to his. “I guess that answers my questions.”

“Ain’t ever felt the way I feel ‘bout you.” He murmured. “And m’fucking terrified of these feelings. But I can’t stay away from you.”

“Then don’t.” She pressed a few more kisses to his lips. “Stay with me, Alfie.

He swallowed and felt every self-destructive urge bubbling in his throat. Telling him to get up and walk away. He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve her.

“Alfie?” When he had been silent for quite some time, Caroline worried a little. She wasn’t sure whether she had pressed him too much or came on too strong.

“So that Thompson, fella. You weren’t kissing him too, aye?” He teased.

She smiled and shook her head. “I don’t even remember what he said to me. I was too busy hoping someone else would show up.”

He grinned and felt his anxieties fade away. “Oh yeah? Who would that be then?”

“Just kiss me, you silly man.”

Tag list: @zazasblogxx

Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinder fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #romance #fluff #blind character #series

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lovelyirony · 5 years ago

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Hello friend! I'm in a mood and just feel like reading something sad. Could you pretty please maybe write some sad winteriron? Maybe something to do with terminal illness but it's up to you!

Being human means that there are many things that could happen to you and you can’t help it.

Like cancer.

Or being hit by a bus.

Maybe a heart condition that you didn’t know about until you were thirty-two, had weird chest pains, and then found you didn’t have genetic testing done and neither parent told you about any extensive medical history because they both were estranged from the family.

Okay. That was specific.

But Tony was laying in a hospital bed and the doctors told him that he wouldn’t live past forty and he would die of heart failure.

He feels like he should be hit harder by this. He only has eight years left to live. He shouldn’t be in his kitchen making eggs, he should probably be hysterically calling Rhodey and Pepper and Happy and asking them about funeral arrangements and what he’s going to do and quite possibly if spending the extra money to get the executive suite at the fancy hotel in Switzerland is worth it.

Except he doesn’t want to.

Death is a messy process. Not for him, they assured him of that. But everyone asks you questions and your loved ones. You have to figure out where to bury someone if they didn’t do it beforehand. Sometimes you have debates about cremation. Other times about how much you want to spend on a casket.

He really doesn’t want to look at Rhodey or Pepper or Happy when they talk about that because he knows that their faces will break into tears and he will see the tear tracks when they go home to their houses and cry some more.

Nonsense.

If he can hide it, then he will. He doesn’t want to be a bother, it would be...unfortunate.

Besides. He’s lonely at the top, and there’s no climbing back down the mountain. He won’t pull a Scrooge and get visited by three ghosts.

So he lives.

He pulls some risky moves, but nothing that makes Pepper have the “are you up to something serious that could potentially cause my midlife crisis to go off-schedule” talk.

Again.

He donates more money to charities and helps people pay off medical bills and walks around New York late at night to wonder why he’s going to die in eight or maybe even seven years instead of the proposed twenty to thirty. (What? He wasn’t going to be too generous, he knew himself.)

Tony wonders sometimes if he will meet someone and they will make him want to live so much more than he can. It will be like those romantic dramas with rainfall and hair plastered to foreheads and passionate kisses that leave some of the older women teary-eyed and wishing that their husband would do something like that.

But he’s a genius, so he knows statistics like the back of his hand.

There will be no one.

Eight turns into seven. He celebrates by getting absolutely slammed on New Year’s Eve and wakes up to the shittiest radio station blaring. He’s pretty sure they’re playing Maroon 5, which fucking ugh.

New Year, new resolutions. He doesn’t bother to make one.

“Why not? You usually make a joke one,” Rhodey says.

“We are all going to die,” Tony answers. “Why make a resolution if I don’t want to? If I were to die in a year, it wouldn’t really matter.”

“Okay Lord Byron,” Rhodey says, rolling his eyes. “You want Hot Topic giftcards for your birthday? Huh?”

Tony laughs.

Rhodey always knows how to make him laugh.

Tony doesn’t know how he’s going to make Rhodey laugh when he’s dead. So that’s a breaking point where he stares at the wall and starts to write random memories down, like the time they snuck up onto a hotel’s roof to see the city wake up and the wind chapped their lips and Tony swore that he’d never leave Rhodey.

Except he is.

And he realizes that he needs to let Pepper and Rhodey and Happy know that he loves them a lot. So he starts the letters.

He writes a letter to Pepper to remind her about how much she regrets getting light blue nail polish every single time she gets a manicure, and she should never get it. (Yes, even for a wedding she’s in, get something, anything other than that.)

He writes a letter to Happy that is basically just wondering about how they can troll asshole celebrities that they know. He doesn’t know, but maybe he will find some dirt so that if Happy ever falls on dire times, he will have some extra cash flow coming in. Not that Tony would let that happen, but say Happy ever did. Maybe someone stole his bank information. Who knows what will happen in seven or six years.

Summer still sucks. He thinks maybe he’ll like it more, now that he knows that his heart is going to quit. But it still smells like piss and garbage on the streets of New York, people are still blasting shitty music and riding bikes too dangerously, and he still feels gross by two p.m. when he goes outside to face the world.

Not even the treat of shaved ice helps this.

“At least I won’t have to face another one in seven years,” Tony murmurs. “Thank god for that.”

Seven turns into six.

It’s around this time when an attractive redhead shows up at his office, bends down a bit lower than necessary, and Tony gets the feeling that SHIELD should really train their agents a bit better if they want something out of him.

He organizes a meeting with Fury, walks in, and states that they cannot afford him.

“You know that your help would be particularly useful,” Fury says.

“For you to get what?” He asks. “Don’t bullshit me with some answer about compassion. Peggy Carter was kind, but she wasn’t a damned saint.”

“There are new...developments.”

Like the fact that they’ve found Captain America. And Bucky Barnes didn’t fall off into a random ravine, so the four different conspiracy theory documentary videos that Tony watched last year were about five hours of wasted time.

They need somewhere to stay. Fury wants Tony to foot the bill.

“What, can’t ask the government for funding?” Tony asks. “I’m sure if they can up the budget for military every year, that covers Cap and his old pal. Hell, I bet they’ll even open up the champagne fridges.”

“They don’t know about it.”

“And why would that be? Because you’d rather have idols to yourself?”

It’s a low-blow. But Tony agrees to take them in. He just doesn’t want to see them, notably because his father was a bit of a Captain America fan, Tony had had a crush on the former sharpshooter when he was a younger guy, and it was all kinds of messed up.

But he gives them their own little apartment, one of his safehouses.

“This ain’t little,” Steve mutters to himself, unpacking a box of plates. Natasha has been nice enough to show them around and tell them about the changes she finds relevant. She forced them to listen to what she called ‘the goddess of pop’ in the car, and Bucky nearly clawed out the stereo after “Toxic” came on.

“Fuckin’ palace,” Bucky mutters. “Who’s is this?”

“A man in high places,” Natasha answers. “He doesn’t want to be known. Doesn’t exactly play well with others.”

She leaves them be, and there’s so much that has changed. Steve is still looking for any sign of the past he can find in Bucky, and Bucky...

He’s not who he used to be. He doesn’t remember half the shit that Steve does. Perks of having your brain so fried up that you can barely remember your middle name.

They eat together in silence.

“I guess...I guess we have to figure out who we really are,” Steve says. “Because you’re not who I remember, and I’m not...I guess I’m not either.”

Bucky nods.

“Do you reckon we’ll like going out dancing?”

The answer is a strong no, although Steve has to say the drinks have improved a hell of a lot more. He likes the ones that come with the small paper umbrellas. He doesn’t know where they get them, but it gives him an idea for an art project.

Tony doesn’t hear much about the wonder boys. He doesn’t want to, not really. Natasha just says they’re getting more and more adjusted and she has evidence of Steve Rogers going clubbing.

“Oh my god,” Tony groans. “Romanoff, do not.”

“It’s funny.”

“I don’t wanna know.”

“What, you jealous that you’re not dancing with him?”

“Hardly. Blonde and beefy isn’t my type.”

“Then what is?”

“Classified.” Tony answered. “Now, is there anything else you want SHIELD to suck out of me?”

“Well, my manicure funding is getting rather low...”

Tony snorts, but points towards the door.

His chest hurts. It’s been happening. He’s actually gotten used to it. In a way, he’s more concerned when it doesn’t hurt. He went to another specialist. They say his death sentence is signed, even if they don’t word it like that. Here’s how it is usually worded:

“I have a colleague who works at insert-clinic/hospital-here...I can refer you to Dr. So-and-So?”

They can. But it’s another list of referrals of so-and-so’s and clinics and appointments at the most inopportune times.

All for nothing, because Tony knows that he can’t be fixed. The human body sometimes works like a machine. But it’s not one. It’d be like Tony calling a dog a wolf. Similar, but no one wants to bring a wolf into their house as a pet.

He gets a phone call from someone named Deputy Director Hill.

He needs a new arm.

Barnes needs a new arm. Of course he does. Tony should’ve expected that, of course. Hydra isn’t exactly known for revolutionizing prosthetics or being particularly kind to their projects that they work on. So Tony automatically has a one-up.

He gets Barnes to come to this mechanic garage, surrounded by old tin signs and vintage cars that cost more than most of the monthly rent of penthouses in New York.

Bucky does a double-take.

“Howard?”

“I hope not,” Tony answers. “Hop up on the chair for me, please. I’m getting you a new arm.”

“This is fine,” Barnes automatically spouts. Tony can see the damage from here, and can even point out that the arm’s reaction time is probably the worst it has been currently.

“If you want to stick to your Great Depression ideals, then by all means be my guest and go bitch in a grocery store about prices,” Tony responds dryly. “But if you want an arm that’s gonna be actually good, then sit.”

So he does.

Tony looks incredibly similar to his father. But there’s something different about him. Something softer, almost. Bucky didn’t know Howard nearly as well as others did, but he knew that Tony wasn’t his father.

“How are you adjusting to the city?” Tony asks.

"Still the shithole we all know and love,” Bucky swears. “I think the rats got bigger.”

“They did. It’s amusing and horrifying at the same time. You ride the subway yet?”

“Yes and I’ve come to terms with it. Lots of new things to learn about it.”

Barnes’ visits become more frequent. They talk about New York stuff. Tony tells him all about the fun events that have happened that he missed while he was doing time as an icicle.

It’s nice, talking to him. Tony finally has someone who understands fatalistic humor and doesn’t respond with

“That’s scary, Tony.”

“What do you mean?”

Bucky just says “cheers” and decides to tell Tony about the time he nearly died in 1992 because he lost his footing on the Eiffel Tower.

Tony laughs, and laughs harder than he thought he had in a long time.

Six turns into five.

Bucky gets closer, and they have...something. He’s not sure what it is yet, but he knows that they go on breakfast dates most of the time and he knows the coffee orders by heart.

“I think you’ve found someone,” Pepper says, teasing. “Look at you.”

“Yeah, look at me,” Tony murmurs.

He has five years left. That’s plenty of time to date someone and break up, right?

Except.

It’s...wonderful to date Bucky. They go all over, have fun trying the shittiest restaurants in town, and even get Steve to get out more and socialize with the group.

They date and celebrate holidays together and have fun candles and--

Five turns into four.

“Not that bad,” Tony whispers to himself when he’s getting ready for bed.

“What’s not bad?” Bucky asks.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Tony says. “Just got a new toothpaste.”

They watch It’s a Wonderful Life and Tony can’t really focus, not when he’s thinking about the fact that he still hasn’t picked out a design for his urn.

Not when he realizes that he needs to break up with Bucky and make it a whole big scene so that no one will talk to him. It has to be about two years before the date, he thinks.

He goes to another Dr. So-and-So. They say he might actually have one more year, but who knows.

He doesn’t.

But he wakes up with Bucky every day and they make breakfast, and he thinks that maybe he could tell him? Maybe?

The words get stuck in his mouth.

He can’t.

He meets with his lawyer for the will.

“Why making sudden changes?”

“Just like to shake things up,” Tony says with a smile. “Never know what’s going to happen, right?”

“You are right about that,” the lawyer says. He’s a bit uncomfortable. Tony Stark looks at him like he knows that his life is short and that something else will come up. But it’s not the lawyer’s job to ask if things really are okay, and it’s not like Tony would tell him anyway.

So he makes the changes to the will.

Tony looks at Bucky as he’s napping, face so peaceful.

He can’t ruin that.

#lovelyirony writes #for some reason tumblr never lets me put in a 'read more' link until like after i've done all this shit so here's to hoping this works #winteriron #:(#hope this fits the sad theme anon #tony stark #bucky barnes #rhodey #pepper potts #happy hogan #steve rogers

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