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camaro-and-smokes · 1 year ago

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Nightmares

Chapter 4: Eddie

Tags for this chapter: Just some light angst See all tags for the full fic on AO3.

Other chapters on tumblr >> / Read on AO3 >>

Moodboard by the wonderful @a-redharlequin 💜

Notes: I can't believe it's been five months since last update 😱 But here it is, finally. More is coming, though hopefully a bit quicker next time 💜

Summary: Billy interrupts Eddie's composing session.

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Billy sat down on the couch next to Eddie where he was sitting and strumming chords on his guitar. He pressed his nose into Eddie's hair. “What are you doing here in the dark?” he asked as he inhaled Eddie's scent. “It's zero-dark-thirty.”

Eddie had known from the moment he'd heard Billy's cane gently tapping the wooden floor as he walked into the living room that his composing efforts would halt. So, he smiled and let out a laugh, playing one final chord. “Well, my love, the light of my life, I'm trying to, no, correction, I was trying to compose something,” he said, amused, and sighed, “And you, my dearest, you interrupted me.”

Billy snaked his arm around Eddie's waist and placed his chin on Eddie's shoulder, sighing contently. “Well, I'm sorry. But it's really your fault, you know. You should know better and go to the studio if you want to protect yourself from my uncontrollable and unpredictable urgent need for affection.”

“I know. But I can't create in a vacuum,” Eddie said and glanced at Billy with a crooked smile. “And maybe I don't fully hate those needs of yours.”

“Do I inspire you?” Billy asked quietly.

“You know you do, all the time. And Steve, too.”

“Are you writing another song about pain and death, then?”

Eddie set his guitar on the other end of the couch and turned towards Billy. “No,” he said, raising his arm and wrapping it around Billy's shoulders, allowing Billy to lean on him better. “It’s about the good things in life.”

Billy chuckled lightly. “Doesn't sound very Corroded Coffin to me.”

Eddie placed his other hand on top of Billy's hand that was resting on Eddie's thigh and brushed it absentmindedly. “I've recorded a few songs as a solo project. Just me and the guitar.”

“Oh. What did the guys say to that?”

Eddie raised his gaze to look outside into the garden that bathed in moonlight. “They don't know.” They sat in silence for a good while before Eddie continued. “I didn't want them to know. Not until...” He paused and laced his fingers with Billy's. “The songs, they're just for you and Steve. Personal. And then if...”

Billy interrupted him. “Stop. We agreed on no 'what ifs'.”

Eddie pulled Billy closer and kissed his fingers. “What I'm saying is… that they're yours. You can do then whatever you want with them. Who knows, one day they might even be worth something.”

“You're supposed to think about the future with us, not make plans on how we'd manage when you're gone,” Billy whispered with a breaking voice. “Not yet, at least.”

“I get it. It's just...hard not to think about it. I honestly don't have a lot of hope for the treatment. Sure, Owens thinks it's the best one yet, but it's also kinda a one time thing. It either works or the virus kills me for good.”

Billy was quiet for a while. “Do you remember when you came to my and Steve's place for the first time as my boyfriend?”

Eddie let out a laugh. “Hoo boy do I.”

“Steve was so lost,” Billy chuckled. “He didn't know what to think, even though we had talked it through.”

“Talking the talk, walking the walk….”

“Yeah. But I knew he was going to get over it. When you had left in the morning, he was sitting and smoking on that tiny balcony with that seriously deadly railing. I sat with him and asked him what did he think about it all. He smiled and snorted, told me he knew enough of me not to try and change my mind. Especially when he'd liked what we'd done that night.” Billy smiled at the memory. “I'm glad he came around. I couldn't imagine my life without either of you.”

“Me neither,” Eddie said and leaned his head against Billy's.

Billy must've had a better day with his legs since he shuffled to sit sideways on the couch and folded his other leg in front of him on the couch. His blue eyes pierced Eddie. “That means, Bambi, that I'm not letting you lose hope. I haven't lost it so far and I'm not planning on starting now either. And so shouldn't you. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? You could die. Fuck it, we both died once already!”

“Well, I'd prefer not dying for good,” Eddie chuckled, “But I get your point.”

“Good. Because it would seriously suck ass if you died.” Billy lowered his gaze and he swallowed audibly. “I'd miss you like hell.”

Eddie realized that there was only one thing he could say to that, and in a way, it made him feel a little less desperate. That maybe he wasn't as lost a cause as he'd thought himself to be. “Hey, I won't. I hope. I—I mean, not planning on it.” He paused, because saying the words had made it all clearer to him. “You know, I say those things because I just want to keep it real. Not getting my hopes up unreasonably high. Until now, the treatments have been just something to keep the virus at bay. That's been clear from the beginning. This then again...” he trailed off. “This could be the way of getting rid of it for good. It would literally give me my life back.” He could feel tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. “I could go on a proper tour for once. I could work full time.” He took Billy's hand in his as a tear fell on his cheek before he could wipe it away. “And we could be close without all the precautions. I could be as close to you as I can, for real,” he continued, whispering.

Billy smiled, blushing a little, and squeezed Eddie's hand. “I'd like that.”

Eddie gently lifted Billy's leg off the couch and over his own knee and placed his arm on top of the backrest. He smiled as he looked into Billy's deep blues and savored the way his cheeks reddened as he leaned closer. “You're insufferable sometimes, you know that? Keeping me from moping like that,” Eddie murmured.

“Don't deny it, you love it,” Billy smiled.

“I wouldn't have it any other way,” Eddie said and leaned in for a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered, “sweet cheeks.”

Billy smirked against Eddie's lips. “Pushing your luck, button eyes.”

There was a rustle in the doorway. “Hey,” Steve said. “I thought I heard some noises.”

Eddie broke the kiss with Billy and looked up over Billy's shoulder at Steve. “Feel free to join us,” he said with a lilt. The light from the corridor lit Steve's face, and Eddie could see his cheeks turning pink. It made a warmness spread in his chest.

“I was, uh, actually planning on talking about something with you, later. But since you're both awake...” Steve started, and then walked into the room and sat on the chair next to the couch. “I've been thinking about how to run things here while it's just me and Billy here.”

Billy leaned his head back, groaning. “Does that have to be talked right now?”

“Eddie is being admitted on Tuesday, and now it's Sunday. And before you get all worked up, I don't understand even myself why I didn't want to talk about it before.”

“Billy, babe, let him say what it is about. Then we can continue,” Eddie said, caressing Billy's cheek with his hand. “What is it?” he then asked Steve.

“So, since Billy might have nightmares over the period you're gone and I need to get to work every day, I thought we could hire someone to help.” Steve turned his gaze to Billy. “What do you think?”

Billy was quiet for a moment. “I hate it,” he finally said quietly.

Eddie tightened his hug on Billy a little. “Steve's right, you know. And it doesn't diminish what you do here in any way. They could drive Steve to work and help with some stuff here at home. Isn't that what you thought, Steve?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

“I don't want a stranger coming here and telling me what to do,” Billy protested.

“Babe, it wouldn't be like that,” Steve said softly. “In fact, then there would be someone for you to boss around.”

Billy sulked. “Where the fuck are you going to get someone I get along with in two days? On a weekend of all times?” he spat.

“I know,” Steve said, taking a deep breath.

“Couldn't Dustin do that? He's been driving you around here and there,” Eddie suggested.

Steve shook his head. “He can't be here all the time, and he's not qualified, you know, helping Billy, managing his medication, all that.”

“Hmm,” Eddie nodded. He gently brushed Billy's legs that were in his lap. “I think I know someone who could help. And you'd get along with him for sure.”

“Who?” Billy snapped.

“El. She's at nursing school, isn't she?”

“Well…I think so,” Steve said. “I suppose she could do some on-the-job learning for her school.” He paused and looked at Billy, knowing that help was a thing he didn't allow easily. “Do you think you could work with her?” he asked.

A smile tucked the corner of Billy's mouth. “She's probably the only one who takes my shit and throws it back at me.”

“And doesn't get her ass kicked for it,” Eddie laughed.

It made Billy punch Eddie's shoulder with his fist gently. “Hey!”

Eddie rubbed his shoulder with his hand, a cheerful glee on his face. “Just stating facts and you know it.”

Billy rolled his eyes, but couldn't keep his smile from widening.

“Okay, I can then call her tomorrow. I mean, she doesn't have to be here all the time. She should be fine with that,” Steve said, nodding, and got up. “Okay, I'll leave you two...”

Eddie reached out his hand towards Steve. “Stay. It's my last proper night home, anyway.”

Steve smiled and took Eddie's hand. “Sure. But we should take it to bed, then.”

“We can do it in here,” Billy whined, not wanting to let go of Eddie.

Steve brushed Billy's cheek with his fingers. “Babe, I know. But what if you suddenly can't? It wouldn't be fun. And I want you to have fun. Please.” He paused for a moment. “I'll carry you,” he said softly.

Eddie looked at the couple talking and Steve lifting Billy up. He felt a small pang of sadness in his chest. Those two were his lifeline, his everything. He didn't want to let go of them and his treatment would jeopardise that everything. He had been considering of signing out of the whole experimental program and continuing the way he had so far. But how long would that buy him time in the end? His time was limited anyway. Might as well get on with it now when he was still somewhat strong. If it took his life, then so be it. At least he would leave with his boots on.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #eddie munson #harringroveson #metalsandwich #stranger things fic #angst #suometar writes #nightmares #harringroveson fic #steddilly

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dyxtd21 · 8 months ago

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Quantum Quattro Silica aesthetic moodboard!!

Quantum Quattro Silica:

Quantum Quattro Silica is a formidable and enigmatic figure standing at an imposing 7 feet tall. His entire coloration is a light blue accented with silver, giving him a sleek and futuristic appearance. His most striking feature is his flat TV screen head, which displays a wide, unsettling smile filled with sharp, pointy teeth and piercing, wide, unblinking eyes. This eerie visage is both captivating and unnerving to behold.

Appearance and Attire:

Coloration: Light blue with silver accents.

Head: Flat TV screen head with an unsettling smile, sharp teeth and wide unblinking eyes.

Accessories: Carries a cane tipped with RCA connectors, adding to his unique and technological demeanor.

Gemstone: Trilliant-cut, located on the back of his neck.

Personality and Abilities: As a 2nd high-ranked gemstone, Quantum Quattro Silica possesses immense power and a complex nature. He is driven by a desire to rival Zebra Jasper, showcasing his competitive and ambitious spirit.

Transformation: In his 2nd "demonic" form, Quantum Quattro Silica becomes even more menacing. His transformation includes:

Wires and Antlers: Long wires protrude from his back and head. long demonic TV antenna-like antlers sprout from his screen head.

Intense Eyes: His eyes, now silver-swirled, intensify and emit sparks.

Tail: A tail entwined with cables completes his fearsome transformation, enhancing his aura of technological menace.

Massive Height: He can grow even to a much larger height.

Powers and Abilities:

Bubble creation and bubble storement.

Size Growth.

Technology (Knowing everything just from TVs)

Immense IQ.

Hypnotic eyes.

Fake Reality (Quantum Quattro Silica can create fake realities for his victims)

Physically appearing in TVs.

Technopathy (Control, manipulate and communicate with technology with the power of the user's mind)

Super sight (See the smallest details up to 800 m/2,625 ft. away)

Mindful (Never forget a face or detail)

Energy disc (Throw a powerful disc of energy with explosive, burning and/or cutting properties)

Commanding voice (Easily command the attention and respect of those who hear it)

Lie detector (Always know when someone is lying)

Multipresence (Exist in multiple locations at once)

Holograms.

Channel Surfing Teleportation: Teleporting to any location by "channel surfing" through television channels, appearing wherever the character desires when switching channels.

Commercialization: Generating powerful advertisements or propaganda that can influence the thoughts and actions of those who view them, essentially controlling minds through televised messages.

Reality Show Manipulation: Turning real-life situations into televised reality shows, where the character can manipulate events or outcomes for entertainment or personal gain.

Merits:

1. Ambidextrous: You have a high degree of off-hand dexterity and can perform tasks with the "wrong" hand at no penalty.

2. Bardic Gift: Gifted by the Muses, you sing sweetly, plan an instrument divinely and speak with passion and eloquence. In all cases, your skill is not as impressive as your delivery.

3. Computer Aptitude: You are familiar with and talents in the uses of computer equipment.

4. Concentration: You have the ability to focus your mind and shut out any distractions or annoyances.

5. Corporate Ties: You have both influence over and contacts in the local corporate community. You understand the dynamics of money in the city and have links with all the major players. In times of need, you can cause all sorts of financial mayhem, and can raise considerable amounts of money (in the form of loans) in a very short period of time.

6. Corporation CEO: You have a particular influence and sway over a major corporation and associated companies, just as if you were its chief executive officer.

7. Eidetic Memory: You can remember things seen and heard with perfect detail.

8. Entrepreneur: Making money comes easy to you & you know what it takes to succeed in business.

9. Fast Learner: You learn very quickly, and pick up on new things faster than most.

10. Fire Within: You are extra resilient against cold weather or damage caused by the cold.

11. Good Night Vision: Maybe you spent a lot of time camping. Maybe you're just a fisherman who's used to getting up before dawn. For whatever reason, your night vision is excellent.

12. Graceful: You've got a natural flair. Your movements hypnotize and your words charm, harsh though they may be. It's almost impossible for you to look awkward, even when you screw up royally. Most people respect this talent, and even jealous folks have to at least admit you've got style.

13. Huge Size: You are abnormally large in size, possibly over seven feet tall and 400 pounds in weight. (His height is 7'0'' and in his "demonic" form, he becomes much more taller and heavier)

14. Judicial Ties: You have both influence over and contacts in the justice system. You know most of the judges as well as the attorneys in the prosecutor’s department , and can affect the progress of various cases and trials with limited difficulty to intervene in a case, you can influence it in one direction or another. These ties can also make it easy to acquire search warrants.

15. Lightning Calculator: You have a natural affinity with numbers and a talent for mental arithmetic, making you a natural when working with computers or betting at the racetracks.

16. Lucky: You were created luckily.

17. Media Ties: You have both influence over and contacts in the local media. You can suppress and create news stories (though not always with 100 percent efficiency; journalists are an unruly bunch and you have access to the files and gossip of the staffs of newspapers and TV stations.

18. Natural Leader: You are gifted with a certain magnetism to which others naturally defer.

19. Refined: You are a member of the elite. You are at home in high society and you never feel out of place around the "beautiful people."

20. Supporter: You inspire all around you to greater efforts. Whether by speaking, writing or leading by example, you give anyone who works with you reason to go on and hope of success.

21. Way With Words.

Flaws:

1. Arrogant: Whether or not you actually think you're better than others, those around you consistently feel that you have a 'holier than thou' attitude.

2. Bard's Tongue: You speak the truth, uncannily so. Things you say tend to come true.

3. Color Blindness: You can see in black ad white. Color means nothing to you, though you are sensitive to color density, which you perceive as shades of gray.

4. Curiosity: You are naturally curious and find mysteries of any sort irresistible.

5. Distinguishing Characteristic: You have a physical feature that makes you very easy to pick out in crowds, such as elaborate tattoos, a scar or an obvious birthmark. (His flat TV screen head)

6. Enemy: You have an enemy, or perhaps a group of enemies, who seek to harm you. (Green Zebra Jasper)

7. Hatred: You have an unreasoning hatred of a certain thing. This hate is total and largely uncontrollable. You may hate a species of animal, a class of person, a color, a situation - anything. (Radios)

8. Vainglorious: You are boastful and know that you deserve any praise you receive.

9. Cast No Shadow: You have no shadow. You also cause no shadows to move about you by walking through them, though you do still obscure light however. Also you cause pictures of you taken with a camera to become deformed and twisted.

10. Eyes of the Unholy: Your eyes are inhuman, resembling FX contact lenses or reflecting light off them like an animal. (Swirling silver patterns on his light blue irises)

11. Unblinking Vigil: Your eyes do not close — ever.

12. Cast No Reflection: You actually cast no reflection, just like the vampires of legend. (Tied with Cast No Shadow)

13. Rivalry: You have an ongoing rivalry with someone. (Zebra Jasper)

Quirks:

Channel Surfing: Quantum Quattro Silica has a habit of rapidly switching the imagery displayed on his TV screen head, cycling through different channels, static, and eerie scenes. This quirk reflects his ever-changing thoughts and moods, making him unpredictable.

Game Show Host Phrases: He frequently uses catchphrases and lines from famous game show hosts, adding a layer of surreal humor to his interactions. Phrases like "Come on down!" or "Is that your final answer?" are common in his dialogue.

Signal Interference: When agitated or deep in thought, Quantum Quattro Silica emits low-frequency sounds and visual distortions, mimicking a TV experiencing signal interference. This quirk can be unsettling to those around him.

RCA Cane Gestures: He often uses his cane tipped with RCA connectors to emphasize points during conversations, tapping it on the ground or waving it for dramatic effect. This quirk highlights his flair for theatrics.

Broadcast Monitoring: Quantum Quattro Silica is obsessed with monitoring broadcasts and signals, constantly tuning into different frequencies and channels to gather information. This quirk makes him highly informed but also distractible.

Electric Static: When excited or angry, small sparks and static electricity can be seen crackling around him, adding a literal spark to his emotions. This quirk can be both intimidating and mesmerizing.

Unblinking Stare: His wide, unblinking eyes can fixate on someone for an unnervingly long time, making them feel scrutinized and uneasy. This quirk is often used to unsettle opponents or assert dominance.

Interactive Display: Quantum Quattro Silica sometimes projects images or messages on his TV screen head to communicate non-verbally or to illustrate his points. This quirk adds a visual element to his interactions, making them more engaging and unique.

Showmanship: He enjoys putting on a show, often performing exaggerated gestures and actions as if he were on stage. This quirk makes his presence larger-than-life and memorable.

Electromagnetic Aura: His presence can cause minor electronic devices around him to glitch or flicker, adding an eerie ambiance to his vicinity. This quirk underscores his connection to technology and his unsettling influence.

Headcanon voice: Crispin Freeman

#gemsonas #my oc #aesthetic #moodboard #Quantum Quattro Silica

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linasofia · 3 years ago

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Sacrifice

Part 1 l Part 2

Fandom: The Man from Rome

Relationship: Father Quart x OC Charlotte

Summary: During an interrogation with a woman suspected of withholding valuable information, the past comes crashing down on Father Quart, who suddenly needs to face someone he thought was no more than a distant memory.

Words: 5,7K

Warnings: 18+ ⚠️ Please don’t read this if the thought of a priest breaking his vow of celibacy might offend you.

A/N: Take a look at the moodboard again. Still here? Welcome to my sinful corner of Tumblr. 😈

Special thanks to @lathalea and @legolasbadass for all your help and support. 💙💙

…

The air smelled vaguely of tar, wet soil and dust. Robbed of one of her senses, she could not make out the size or shape of the room she was held in, but it was warm, poorly ventilated and, judging by the way her dress clung to her body, very damp. The coarse fabric covering her eyes held a hint of spicy cologne and sweat, like it had been in someone's inner pocket for a long time. Charlotte’s hands were bound behind the back of the wooden chair she was seated on and the thick hemp rope also secured her ankles, harshly tied to the front legs of the chair. A table stood somewhere in front of her and the furious man in the room slammed his open hand on its surface repeatedly to accentuate his words.

”Give me a name!”

Her continued silence made him frustrated and he snorted as he moved closer to her. At this close distance she could smell his sweat and the unpleasant scent made her turn her head away from him.

”You’re only making it harder for yourself, Charlotte. We both know you have the information I want and you’ll give it to me. You’re not leaving this room before I have it.” His nasal voice was raised and the underlying threat made her shiver.

A sudden knock on the door made Charlotte jump in her seat. The man with the distinct smell sighed and then gave a short bark. ”Enter!” A squeak sounded from the door as it swung open and with it followed just a tease of fresh air. She didn’t know how long she had been in this room but she knew what kind of tricks the mind could play on a person without a single thing to hold on to. Sunlight, a watch or anything that could give guidance would have helped her but in the dark world she now was forced to accept, she had nothing. Not even the comforting sound of church bells could reach her here. Suddenly she felt a hand resting on her head, almost like a blessing, and the man leaned in close to her.

”I don’t have time for your games anymore. Give me what I want, or I will leave you in the hands of my very capable colleague. He’s a less patient man than I am but he will help you make the right decision.”

Once again, she chose to stay silent. He waited and then gave a short grim laugh. ”Stubbornness will get you nowhere.” Heavy footsteps, and what sounded like a cane, scraped against the floor as he moved. Charlotte's heart picked up speed. Was he really leaving? And who was this new person that silently entered, without even a greeting. The unpleasant man made no attempt to hide his instructions, directed to the silent figure in the room. ”And Quart, use the belt if you have to. I want results.”

As the door closed, silence fell over the room. She heard a key turn and a click, but was unsure if the door was locked from the outside or if this Quart had locked it to prevent anyone else from entering. Like he didn’t want unexpected surprises. The thought sent an anxious shiver down her spine. What activities had he prepared for her? She heard him move closer. He walked slowly, but without the burden of age and she pictured him as a snake approaching a bird’s nest. Charlotte tried to calm her racing heart, but she could feel something change in the air as he silently closed in on her from behind. His scent reached her nose and it was pleasant and fresh, like he just stepped out of the shower. Nothing like the previous man. The well-balanced cologne mixed with his body’s manly scent created a combination her own body refused to ignore. She bit her lip in frustration. This was not the time or place for that kind of reflection.

”Monsignor has been very patient with you. He does not want to harm you, still you disobey him and leave us with few options left.” He placed a heavy hand on her neck, his fingers pressed tightly at her soft skin and then he pushed her forward, stretching the muscles in her arms and making the ropes cut deeper into her skin.

”Tell me,” he rasped with his lips dangerously close to her ear, ”tell me the truth, and I will set you free.”

She frowned. His voice was sinfully dark, but at the same time smooth as velvet and she would be lying to herself if she claimed she didn’t find the voice even the slightest appealing. It felt strangely familiar and something long forgotten stirred deep inside her.

”I don’t know anything about the thefts or who might be involved in them.” She forced her voice to sound at least somewhat calm but on the inside her heart was beating hard, using her chest as its resonance box.

”So you can speak after all. It’s a small progress.” She could hear the triumph in his voice as he loosened his grip slightly, letting her relax just enough, but she realised too late that it also involuntarily made her lean against his hand. He was still standing very close to her, behind the chair that she over the hours had learned to hate. Its hard edges were very uncomfortable after just a few hours, and now, when she had lost track of how long she had been tied to it in this awful place, her body hurt.

”Keep doing it and I will loosen one of these ropes.”

Father Quart let his fingertips glide over the sloppily tied knot and down to her wrist where his soft touch gently brushed her skin. Amateurs, he thought, without a feeling for a good craft. If he had been the one placing the rope around her delicate wrists in the first place, it would have looked very different.

”I know how much it hurts after a few hours.”

When he spoke, his voice bore a touch of longing and it confused Charlotte greatly. Then his grip on her neck tightened again and once again she was forced to lean forward. Her arms ached and this time he pushed harder, making the muscles in her chest stretch out and the feeling caused her to moan. His voice grew sterner. ”All I want is a name, it’s simple. One name and you walk out of here in just a few minutes. If you want to keep trying to protect someone, you’ll only suffer. Is it really worth it?”

Charlotte remained quiet; she was determined to keep the information to herself. Her body protested but she pressed her lips tightly together and waited for his retribution. Suddenly he let go of her and it eased some of the pain in her arms. The sound of the belt being pulled from his trousers was enough to make her tense in every muscle of her tired body. It sounded intimidating enough but when he made it snap loudly, probably by folding the leather belt double and pulling at the ends, she let out a terrified gasp.

”Are you sure this person is worth it?”

Father Quart looked at the woman in front of him once more. Her brown locks spilled over her shoulders but the blindfold had ruined her no doubt careful styling. Small strands of hair laid flat on her forehead, caught in pearls of sweat. Her skin was tanned and she wore a thin wrap dress in a pale summer color. No shoes could be seen anywhere and the dirt on her feet told him that she had not entered this room on her own. She had been dragged in. For hours, he was told, they had held her captive, without food, with only water to drink and very limited access to a toilet. But she had not given the answer they wanted and now he was instructed to change tactics. He didn’t like it. Physical persuasion was not his thing, he preferred a mental challenge. But he had his orders and he intended to execute them with expertise, as usual.

It was unusual for him to interrogate someone this way, especially a woman, but seeing this brunette bound like this woke his memory from a long slumber and pictures from his previous life flashed before his eyes. Back then, the only punishments he ever delivered was when a woman begged him to and that was a totally different game. A lust-filled game, sprung from a shared interest in pushing boundaries. A game he buried along with his painful memories of the only woman who ever made him feel complete, but also ruthlessly crushed his heart when she left him without even an explanation.

He slammed the belt on the table, harder than necessary and noticed the startled movement. He had no idea if she knew what to expect, but he didn’t linger on the thought as he turned his attention to the ropes. With swift, experienced fingers he untied the ropes from the chair, secured her hands as high up on her back as her body would allow, pulled her up on her feet and pushed her forward until she stumbled into the table. She didn’t fight him for her freedom and he allowed himself a smile. It was a sign of submissive acceptance. With one hand firmly planted between her shoulder blades, he made her bend over the table. Then he reached for his belt and made sure she felt it scratch against her skin as he adjusted the soft leather in his hand. This was one of his favorite belts, not because of what he was about to do with it, it was just a job, but because of how it looked. The leather was exquisite and even if the clasp was smaller than many others on the market, it was eye-catching. Not very suitable for a priest as his superior often remarked, but Father Quart didn’t care. He knew his value within the Institute of External Affairs and he didn’t ask too many questions about how the church chose to handle certain situations. He had the character of a true soldier and servant of the church: loyal, efficient and determined. Overall a tremendous asset, too important to dismiss due to minor fashion disputes.

The hard surface felt cold against her chest and Charlotte welcomed the temporary chill it gave. Her heart raced and it made her sweat even more in the warm room. His hand on her back was strong and she could feel through the fabric of her dress how he unexpectedly stroked her with his thumb. It felt tenderly absent, like his mind was somewhere else. Her body held its own memories and suddenly the gentle caress of his thumb made sense. The voice, the heavy hand, the touch of a faceless stranger, but in a way, no stranger at all. Charlotte’s heart almost stopped. Now she knew exactly who that voice belonged to. How could she ever forget the deep rumble that once made her tremble with anticipation? Could it really be him? Her head was spinning and she was grateful for the support given by the table. Did she really want to know or were some things better kept in the dark? She felt him tense as he lifted his arm and without even thinking she cried out ”stop!”

The high-pitched cry came as a total surprise and Father Quart just managed to stop himself before the belt met her skin. Without wasting any time he grabbed her arm and roughly spun her around.

”Last chance,” he hissed, “speak now, before I change my mind.” He uttered the last words slowly, giving her extra time to come to the right decision, but when she finally opened her mouth, it was not the words he expected.

”I…I think I know who you are.”

”What?”

”I think I know you. And you know me, at least you used to.”

He stared at her, then grabbed the dirty fabric covering her eyes and ripped it off her. When his gaze met hers, the earth stopped in its orbit. The intense blue ponds that once threatened to drown him, stared back at him.

”Lottie,” he breathed, unable to control his voice and instinctively he lifted his hand and caressed her chin. She closed her eyes and leaned against his touch, unwilling to accept the reality of their current situation. Her skin was so soft under his fingertips and her instant affirmation put him out of balance, and eventually he hesitated. He had a mission to complete, but all he wanted now was to forget about the present, take her in his arms, close his eyes and taste her sensual lips. She was just as beautiful as she had been when they were lovers and the years had graced her with fine lines around her eyes that spoke of a woman with experience from all the aspects of life, both joy and sadness. In the dim light he could tell she wore very little makeup and for that he was grateful. It allowed him to see the real her, not the painted canvas so many women presented to the world.

”You used to like games like these,” she mumbled as she opened her eyes.

”So did you.”

Her gaze fell on his clergy collar and he could read her thoughts, they were printed on her face. Confusion, curiosity and a hint of regret. She frowned.

”Are you a priest now?”

”Yes.”

”I thought priests served in the church, not in a place like this.” She looked around the dark and unfriendly room. It had rough, unpainted walls, illuminated by a handful of lanterns. It was bigger than she thought, but still very far from the great cathedral.

”Not all priests perform Mass or listen to confessions.”

”Clearly. But why here? I thought I was being questioned by the police or something.”

”The church prefers to deal with its problem on its own.”

”So that’s what I am now, a problem?” She crooked her neck and gave him an inviting smile that settled deep in his core. She still had the power to wake the primal need in him and he was both disturbed, confused and tempted by this insight. She was teasing him but he could feel the growing tension between them. Almost two decades had passed, but now, when facing each other again, it felt like no time had passed at all.

”Yes.”

She looked deeply into his eyes, like she could easily see beyond the hard mask he was desperately trying to hold up. ”I want to be your problem.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and in her eyes he could read every indecent insinuation, and he unconsciously tightened his grip around the belt. Father Quart held himself back by pure determination, but the way she was looking at him made it impossible for him to stay unaffected.

”Problems need to be taken care of,” he stated firmly, not for a second breaking eye contact.

”I agree,” she whispered back in a trembling voice, while her upper body betrayed her by exposing her arousal, fully visible through her thin dress, “please, do it.”

Father Quart closed the distance between them. ”Do you really want me to?” he said and felt a bigger problem approaching. His own arousal. For almost twenty years he had kept his needs at bay with cold showers and prayers, but his world was in movement now and he knew he was doomed. Suddenly he felt weak, something he had not experienced since before he took his oath. Even if she was the bound one, he was certain that she would lead him straight to the altar and he would sacrifice himself for a moment with her naked body. His heart was beating hard and in his mind he could hear his old tutor: ”Beware of your feelings for they can betray you. One day you will make a mistake, and when you do, I’ll not be there to catch you. You must face the consequences alone.”

Slowly he ran his hand through her unruly hair. It was pleasantly soft against his fingers and he brushed away a few locks that fell over her cheek. Without really deciding to, he suddenly bent down and placed his lips over hers. It was wrong but he didn’t care, he wanted— no, he needed—to feel her passion again. As he closed his arms around her she pressed herself against him and he let out a soft groan that sent a vibration down her throat.

Without the possibility of touching him, she let her mouth and tongue show her burning desire for him. She kissed him back and poured all her needs into the kiss, hoping that it sparked the flame in him, just as it did to her. She was on fire and only he could calm her burning body. Suddenly he captured her lower lip between his teeth, pulled gently and the feral hunger in his eyes made her gasp. The familiar grip of his hands on her body turned her smile into a satisfied grin. He was trapped.

Charlotte broke the kiss, turned from him and without hesitation bent over the table, this time without his help. He watched her body, presented to him in the most beautiful way, and the growing need built rapidly and unstoppably in his lower body. Her voice became a husky, erotic whisper: ”Do it. Not because it is expected of you, but because I want you to. And I know you want it too. Play with me.”

Father Quart placed his hand over the now tightly and symmetrically tied knots covering her wrists. The knots looked better than before, even if he made them in a haste. If he had known who she was when he secured her, he would have put in more effort. She deserved only the best.

The first strike fell over the soft fabric covering her lower back and even if she knew it was coming, the sharp sting made her breath hitch. She could tell he was holding back a lot, the pain was far from as bad as it could have been. The belt bit a little harder when it landed over the back of her thighs and Charlotte tried to prevent the cry from leaving her mouth, but failed. As the following blow marked the softness of her bum, she squirmed under his hand and a disappointed, needy sound fell from her lips as he stopped.

Father Quart hesitated but then realized he had already passed the point of no return. He grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up. The belt had left red marks on her skin and he caressed her gently. She moaned when his hand moved over her body as if it had its own will. He met her burning gaze as she turned her face to look at him over her shoulder and she looked more wild than tamed.

”Touch me, please.”

Her pleading sounded more natural to him than he had expected and it filled him with memories once again. He let go of the belt and it fell to the floor with a clatter. Her silky skin was warm when he traced the outer line of her thighs with his hands and the white lace covering her most precious parts was an alluring contrast to her tanned skin. When he pulled the fabric down, he could see the lines on her skin, the marks left by her bikini. Sunkissed skin had always been his weakness and he trailed the line with his fingertips, from her hip and over the beautiful roundness of her bum. He stopped before he reached the feminine sanctuary her body offered. She wanted to play, and so did he. With a gentle nudge of his foot on her ankle he urged her to stand with her feet further apart. She obeyed immediately and the spread gave him better access to the part of her body he secretly had dreamed about. Celibacy was the hardest vow to honor and lately he had, more often than before, questioned if it was worth it. Until that moment, the answer had been yes, but now, as she presented herself to him in a way that widely surpassed his dreams, he knew that he, just like Eve, would taste the forbidden fruit.

”Look at you,” he murmured, as he slowly let his fingers travel up her inner thigh and he could feel her shiver under his touch, ”you are so beautiful.” Teasingly he ran his fingers over the slickness covering her folds and it made her whimper. She was just as ready for him as he was for her. The hardness in his trousers was almost painful, he ached for her like never before. Time had certainly not killed the attraction between them and as he slipped a finger inside her, it was coated in her need. Moans and encouragement fell from her lips in a stream of pleasure and his fingers remembered every corner of her body and recalled how to tease her to the point of insanity.

It would have been easy to bring her to climax like that, but he wanted to feel her squeezing him when she fell apart, and so he withdrew his fingers, put them in his mouth and the taste of her sweetness made him grunt approvingly. He briefly considered falling on his knees behind her and devouring her, but he was not sure how much time he was given so instead he opened his trousers, pulled them down and freed himself. The throbbing feeling increased as he placed his hand over his length and gave it a gentle stroke. Touching himself like that was something he rarely did, as a result of the path he had chosen, but when it happened, he always made amends. He let the top of his thick shaft gently glide over her glistening opening and with a huge amount of self-discipline he refrained from slamming his hips against her. Teasing her was part of the game and he knew her weaknesses by heart, but the longing sound she let out made it hard for him to stay in control. The rope securing her hands on her back would no doubt leave marks on her skin and he placed his hand over hers in a comforting gesture. Her pleasure had always been his priority in the past and he had no intentions of changing that. So when she begged him to proceed, he thrusted deeply and buried himself in her tight welcoming embrace.

Charlotte’s moan got caught in her throat. His girth was grander than she remembered and he stretched her beyond belief. He didn’t wait for her to adjust and she didn’t want him to, she needed him and craved what he was about to give her. It was like her body remembered every move he made and her blood sang in her ears as soon as he found their combined rhythm. His hand on hers felt tender at first but as he added more force to his thrusts, he effectively held her in place in a firm grip. The unmistakable sound of his skin meeting hers filled the room and together they chased the peaks of their pleasures.

She closed her eyes, absorbed by the intensity of his hips that promised her the ultimate salvation, and his long fingers which he purposefully closed over her mouth, preventing her approaching climax from being heard outside her temporary prison. The damp room became the only witness of their sinful moment of lust as he finally pushed her over the edge, followed by praise he had not spoken since the last time they were together. “Good girl.”

Captured under the spell of her body, he could only helplessly feel how she clenched hard around him and the sensation was enough for him to follow her down the slick slope of passion. He came with a deep groan, bright stars danced in front of his eyes and blinded him, and he could almost hear his collar cracking around his neck.

Father Quart found himself mirroring her breathing, as if they took breaths as one.First short of breath, but soon deeper, helping him to relax his body. He bent forward and kissed her gently between her shoulder blades, the same spot that he so harshly had pushed not long ago. Then he pulled his trousers up and tucked down his shirt before he picked up the belt, pulled it through the loops and clasped it. With a gentle grip on her shoulder, he helped Charlotte to stand up straight again. Not that she looked like she needed the help, but it felt like the right thing to do. His mouth was dry.

”Do you want some water?”

”I do, thank you.” She smiled at him and her eyes sparkled with that unusual light that made him warm even on the inside. He walked over to the shelf in the corner, took the mug and filled it with water from the large bottle. It was not cold but it was all he could offer and when he held it to her mouth, she drank greedily. Small drops fell from the mug, landed on her chest and he could not help but stare when it slowly ran over her skin and finally was absorbed by her dress. When the mug was empty she looked at him with a grateful expression and he filled the mug again, this time for himself. As he drank, the unspoken question that almost drove him insane all those years ago, gnawed in the back of his head. He knew he had more important information to extract from her, but he could not help being selfish.

”Why did you leave me?” He hoped he didn’t sound bitter. ”I can accept that you wanted to end our relationship, but why did you leave without even a word? I never understood what I did wrong, was I not worthy of an explanation?”

Charlotte looked into the eyes of the man that used to be her universe. He still had the power to melt her like a piece of gold in a hot furnace, just like then. He was older now, in his early fifties she quickly calculated, but still impossibly handsome. The grey streaks in his hair, the deeper lines around his eyes and the short stubble, it all made him look distinguished and appealing. His white collar rested authoritatively against the black shirt and she lowered her gaze. Maybe he deserved to know after all and she shifted nervously. Not only were the painful memories something she didn’t want to bring back to the light, but they also contained a person, whose name she didn't want to mention at all.

”I…I was afraid.” Her voice trembled, even if she tried to sound neutral.

”Of me?” He frowned and his voice changed to an accusing tone. ”Why?”

”No, not of you.” She swallowed hard, this was going in the wrong direction, she had to tell him before she made more damage to the old scars. Things had not been fair back then, but at least she could make it right by telling him the truth now. Her voice was sad when she spoke again: ”My brother.”

”Your brother, what did he have to do with us?”

She lifted her head again and met his gaze but in his eyes she only saw confusion and hurt. He ran both his hands over the stubble of his cheeks in what she could only interpret as a way of calming himself. This was not what she wanted for him.

”One day, after you had left, after we had… played, my brother came to see me. I was always careful, because I knew that I sometimes bore marks that needed explanation if they were seen by others. But somehow he saw a glimpse of the mark I had on my wrist and he made me show it to him. All of it.” Charlotte lowered her head to avoid his piercing gaze. ”He demanded to see what else I hid on my body. I couldn’t stop it from happening. He thought you were assaulting me and he threatened to find the man who did it and kill him. He was furious and I could not find the courage in me to tell him that I wanted you to do all that to me. I didn't think that he would have ever understood. Or that it would matter to him. I am his baby sister, he’s very protective and always has been. He forbade me to ever see you again. You had hurt me and he would make you pay for it. I left you to protect you.”

”You could have told me. There must have been another solution. We could have talked to him together.”

”No! You do not understand. He is not someone you can just talk to about something like that. And he told his friends that his sister was beaten up. I am sure they watched me for a long period of time. Protected me, as my brother called it. I did not dare to make contact with you. I know you called, I know you were at my apartment when I was not there and I got the flowers you sent to my work. I thanked God every day that they never saw you.”

”You meant more to me than that.” His voice was even now and it made her heart ache. Hurt or distrustful was better than even, he sounded remote like he gradually distanced himself from her again. She wished she could reach for him, hug him and make him see things from her point of view, but in the back of her mind she questioned herself. Was it really him she wanted to comfort or was it her own mind that needed relief.

”I only wanted you to live, I did it because I loved you. Please understand, Marc is dangerous, he was back then and he is now. And his friends are too, they are criminals. Don’t you see?”

Fully focused on trying to process what Charlotte was saying, Father Quart’s subconscious worked on a different track. Something clicked into gear in the back of his brain and even if his heart was somewhere else, he understood what she was saying. Or rather tried very hard not to say. The professional side of him raised his head and he spoke calmly in that deep steady voice she first had heard.

”So, this is what it is all about. Your brother.”

”Yes, I am trying to tell you..” He cut her off. ”Your brother is the one you are trying to protect, is it not?”

”No!” She felt sick. Why did she bring him up?

”I don’t mean back then, Lottie, I mean now, at this very moment. I think your brother is involved in the thefts, or maybe he is the contact to the black markets where the priceless art is sold, and I think you’re doing everything you can to keep that piece of information from me. But you just told me you are afraid of him, did you not? And his friends?”

”That is not true! He is not involved.”

”Then who is it? You were never good at lying to me, Lottie. We both know why you are here in the first place, you know something and I want to know as well.” He lowered his voice and looked at her, then he reached for her and stroked her chin with the back of his fingers. She leaned against his hand once more and a tear fell from her eye.

”If I tell you, will I ever see you again?”

Father Quart looked at her and for a moment considered what she just asked him. Then he slowly shook his head. ”No Lottie, you will not. My life is very different from yours. Back then…I loved you. I really did. When you left me, I felt like you ripped my heart open and took everything I had with you. Even if there was a way for us to meet again, I would not dare to open my heart to you. Understand that I…”

The loud bang on the door made them both jump. Father Quart gave her a sad smile.

”Our time is up. I need to blindfold you again.”

As tears started to fall over her cheeks he gently placed the bad smelling piece of fabric over her eyes. Then he quickly opened the door. A restless and red-faced Monsignor Spada entered the room and looked from Father Quart to Charlotte, who was standing up, but her arms were tightly bound behind her back.

”Do you have the information, Quart?” He barked.

”Her brother is the one we need to take a look at. And most certainly his closest friends.”

”Good job.”

Then he turned his attention to Charlotte. ”Thank you for your cooperation, Miss. You will be given a ride home shortly, just as promised.”

Charlotte refused to cry out loud, even if every fibre in her body wanted her to. She would not give the older man the satisfaction of seeing her break down in tears. So she bit hard on the tip of her tongue and cursed her weak body for revealing the things she did not say out loud. She wanted to warn Marc, but if she did, he would know she had been questioned, or worse, that she had betrayed him. The door closed heavily and when she realised she was alone, she allowed herself to cry. The coarse fabric was soon wet, not only from sweat, and her body trembled. The combination of physical exhaustion, an avalanche of emotions and the lack of food made her very weak and she sank down on the rough floor. She wanted to put her arms around her knees, but the ropes would not give in, even if she tried to free herself. Left without any other options, she sobbed quietly and waited.

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youbloodymadgenius · 3 years ago

Text

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 3

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello's masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 3497 (oops 🙈)

Additional note: what you’re going to read is not realistic.

Enjoy 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

With his stomach in knots and a frown on his face, Ivar watches closely his godfather, who enters the living-room, wheeling a large trolley case behind him.

"Hello, Ivar." Floki looks around, an eyebrow raised questioningly, "Lagertha isn't here?", before flopping down on the corner sofa.

"No," Ivar shakes his head, wheeling up next to him, "She's out on a date with this English guy... Hammond, Halmund or whatever his name is."

Scratching his ear, Floki tilts his head, "but she knows you're going, right?" He pulls the trolley case closer and then snorts, mumbling under his breath, "don't think I can't see you rolling your eyes!"

"What do you think? Of course, she knows. She said, and I quote," Ivar raises his hands to make air quotes, his voice tinged with obvious annoyance, "'Of course you can go, sweetie, you know I don't want to be the one holding you back. Call me if anything goes wrong. And don't forget to take your meds.'"

"She cares, Ivar." Floki's tone is soft as he places a hand on his godson's shoulder.

Ivar lowers his gaze. "You should have taken me in." His words are barely audible and suddenly he feels like he's eleven again and he has to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat.

"You do know that back then I wasn't in a good place." Floki's sad sigh almost gets Ivar in tears as memories of his parents and Helga flood his mind. The pain in his heart becomes nearly unbearable but he fights it off with all his might. He never wants to feel broken and lost again.

Ivar lifts his head up and Floki can see the stubbornness in his eyes. "I could live with you now."

"No, you could not, and you know it!" Floki smiles and taps Ivar on the cheek. "Ivar, I live between two flights, today in Norway, yesterday in Iceland and after-tomorrow in Canada. What kind of life would this be for you, huh? And besides, living with Lagertha is not that bad."

But living with Sigurd is! Ivar wants to shout. He keeps quiet, though, shrugging before eventually mumbling. "Guess not..."

"So," Floki starts, eager to change the subject, "where are your brothers, by the way?"

"Where do you think they are, huh, you knock-kneed fool? They're already there." Ivar glances at his watch, furrowing his brow. "Harald's party started twenty minutes ago."

"We better hurry up, then!" Crouching down, Floki slowly opens the suitcase under Ivar's scrutinizing gaze.

"Quick!" Ivar commands, barely able to contain his impatience, his nervous fingers tapping his push rims. "What do you have for me, old man, huh?" He even contemplates climbing out of his chair to open it himself, but the fear of breaking a bone at the worst possible time is stronger than his eagerness.

"You're going to calm down, young Padawan." Floki quips, slowly moving his hand in front of Ivar with eyes full of mischief. Ivar immediately slaps his godfather's hand away, mumbling under his breath, "I'd rather be a Sith Lord." That earns him a loud, hysterical laugh from his godfather.

Ivar grunts, ready to protest, but all thoughts leave his mind as soon as he's able to see what is in the trolley case. The scowl on his face obvious, he doesn't even try to hide his disappointment as he utters, "you made me braces?"

He hates braces with a passion. Along with underarm crutches, he had some, as a child. They were bulky, stiff, painful and walking with them was tedious, agonizingly slow, and exhausting. Ragnar had been adamant that he wanted his youngest to walk, no matter the struggles, no matter the nearly unbearable pain. Ivar had settled his ass in a wheelchair the day of his father's funeral, getting rid of his braces shortly after, a decision he had never regretted. So no, such torture devices were not at all what he was hoping for.

"Have a little faith in me," Floki rolls his eyes. "These," he looks lovingly at the strange contraptions in his hands, "are not braces, Ivar. Have you and your crippled ass ever heard of exoskeleton?"

Ivar's eyes widen. "It's that thing used in rehab that allows paraplegics to walk, right?" As Floki nods, Ivar gives him a puzzled glance. "But, erm, you do know I don't have a spinal cord injury, don't you? Or are you suffering from memory loss? Maybe it's your age?"

Dismissing the remark with an exasperated wave of his hand, Floki hisses, "I'm well aware that you don't, godson dearest," before narrowing his eyes, his voice now serious, "you may have full sensation in both legs, yet they can't exactly support your weight and your lack of motor function can't be denied. Not really different from some paraplegic dudes, what do you think?"

Feeling a heavy lump in his throat, Ivar frowns, not pleased with the idea of him being like a paraplegic. Almost without thinking, he contracts his quads as best he can, as if he wants to make sure he's still able to do it.

Floki doesn't miss the barely-there movements in his thighs, though, and his voice softens. "Look Ivar, you're not a paraplegic, okay? But I used the exoskeleton technology. And since you're not paralyzed, I was able to make a smaller device that you can wear underneath your clothes, and you're going to walk. I mean, really walk, not just like those guys in rehab, between parallels bars and with a PT right behind them."

Ivar, his eyes bright, stares at his godfather, slack-jawed with amazement. "I'm..." He begins to sputter, voice filled with emotion, "I'm really going to walk?" Feeling like his heart is pounding out of his chest, he fails to contain his excitement, drumming the fingers of his right hand on his lap. He'd tap his feet if only he could.

"You are." Floki nods before taking out of the trolley case a pair of dress shoes. "I put dozens of sensors in the insole of these shoes, which will enable the exoskeleton to correct your stance practically every second. Therefore, you won't need crutches, although I would say it's safer for you to use this." Reaching down, he grabs a black derby-style cane, simple and sleek in design. "You know," he shrugs, "just for extra support. Better safe than sorry, hmh?"

Ivar, who doesn't even flinch when he sees the walking stick, just reaches out, his hand grazing the carbon fiber exoskeleton. "Is it really for me?" His eyes filled with wonder, his voice trembling, his lips stretch across his face as his godfather nods. "And you made this in what?... four, five days?"

Letting out his signature giggle, Floki waggles his fingers in front of his face. "Even I couldn't make this in such a short time. No, the truth is, I've been working on it for a while. Let's say your phone call just sped things up. Though I must say, this marvel of technology is not flawless... It has a really low battery life, like four hours of autonomy at best. If I had more time, I certainly could have done better, but for now, it is what it is and you'll have to make do with what you've got." Pursing his lips, he glances at his watch, "So, just so you know, if you put this on now, you'll have to come back around midnight if you don't want to have to crawl around. And if you hear a beep, you'd better hurry, okay?"

As Ivar just nods, his beaming smile never fading, Floki adds, tilting his head, "and now, go get ready, young Padawan, you have a party to attend!"

***

Sitting on a bench at the seaside, Ivar watches the party from afar, a feeling of uneasiness tightening his chest. It was a mistake. Attending to this party was a mistake. Despite the exoskeleton, despite the fact that he walks almost normally, it was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't be here. Anxiety surges like the swell of a wave, and he struggles to breathe. Sigurd was right: he doesn't belong here, doesn't belong to this life.

A part of him wants to leave. It would be better to run away, to go hide in his room. But he won't. He can't. Because just a moment ago he saw you. Because he's not ready to give up on you now that he is here, eventually close to you.

He recognized you the moment his eyes fell on you. Looking radiant in a polka dot dress, you're as pretty as he remembers. Pretty? Who's he kidding? The girl you were six years ago was pretty. You're a woman now, and one of the most beautiful he's ever seen.

Glowing, smiling at everyone, you didn't even see him. In his head, of course, he makes plans to approach you, even if deep down, he knows all too well he'll never muster enough courage to talk to you. You probably wouldn't want him to anyway. After all, he may be standing tall today, yet he's still a freak, a fucking cripple. He's still cursed with his bony, twisted, useless legs. He's still a burden.

Yet, there's this little voice inside of him, barely audible, whispering that you're not like this, that you never were in the first place; and that's partly why the ten-year-old boy he was when he first met you felt drawn to you almost instantly.

Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breathing and decides to take a little trip down memory lane, bringing him back to that sunny, summer day of his first – and only – encounter with you. His memory so vivid it's like it happened only yesterday.

He can't hear the chirping of birds as his brothers are loudly playing and bickering in the pool. His beloved mother is nowhere to be seen and he's willing to bet she's taking a nap, but not without first making sure he has everything he could possibly need. Lying on a sunbed in the shade of an oak, a glass of lemonade within reach and a thick book on his lap, he hardly notices his father coming into the backyard, Harald Hårfager following close behind.

Since Ivar knows Harald is here to talk business with his father, he pays no attention to the two men, who take their seats at the patio dining table.

He nearly falls off the sunbed when a tiny voice startles him. "Hello!"

Stunned, he turns his head towards the voice and comes face to face with a smiling girl he doesn't know. You. He'd say you're about his age.

"I'm Y/N," you tell him, waving your hand shyly. "I'm at my uncle's for the weekend," you keep going, pointing your finger at Harald, "and I was wondering... May I join you?" You finally ask, dragging a second sunbed closer to his.

His first instinct is to look around, because you can't possibly be talking to him. Why would you? Surely you can't have failed to spot his leg braces, nor his hideous orthopedic shoes. You can't have missed that he's a cripple.

Frowning as he sees that no one is around, he snorts, his nostrils flaring. He can tell you're wearing a swimsuit under your pink dress. What do you want, then? Are you here to mock and ridicule him or what?

"You better get in the pool with my brothers." He knows he sounds rude, not answering nor greeting you, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be made fun of and doesn't intend to give you the chance to do it.

Seemingly undeterred, you speak with a soft voice. "No, I'd rather not." Your smile is so genuine he can't help but think you mean no harm. "Actually," you shrug, sitting next to him, "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind. What are you reading?"

Gobsmacked, he just looks at you – and gods, how pretty you are! – for a long time, unable to utter a single word. Are you truly interested in what he's reading? Interested in him? He swallows hard, his heart racing. A small smile dancing on your lips, your kind eyes never leave his as you wait, full of hope, for him to finally talk to you.

And that's what he ends up doing, almost in spite of himself. For the next two hours, he shows you his astronomy book, a gift from his godfather for his tenth birthday, and tells you about the stars, the constellations and the nights he spends watching the sky, when his mother allows him to. And for two hours you listen to him, asking a question here or there and always smiling. He's pretty sure you're not faking being interested in what he's saying.

All too soon, your uncle tells you it's time to go and you stand up with a scowl, letting out a sigh of regret. The next moment, you flash Ivar a grin. "I had a really great time with you, thanks! I'm going back to my mom's tomorrow but I hope we can spend time together again sometime, maybe next summer. I'd love to stargaze with you, you know?" With that, you lean forward and as your lips touch his cheek, Ivar's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

Ivar inhales deeply. That kiss... That's when he fell madly and hopelessly in love with you. If he concentrates enough, he can still feel the softness of your lips against his skin, still smell your sweet, flowery scent.

That day, he had watched you leave with a smile on your face, already dreaming of the day he would see you again. You had said "next summer" and even though it was a long time away, he was willing to wait. In the meantime, he would have plenty of memories to recall - your joyful voice, your sparkling eyes, your lovely smile... Sure, he could wait.

And he had waited, hopeful and happier than he had been in a long time.

Not long after, however, his life had been turned upside down, his father being murdered and his mother dying in a car crash. Lost, angry, broken, and infinitely sad, he had gone through the following months as if anesthetized - barely living, hardly functioning, sometimes feeling as if the memory of you was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Yet, and he doesn't know why – or perhaps simply because Ragnar being dead, Harald had no reason to visit anymore – he had never seen you again.

"Hello!"

His whole body freezes and he stops breathing. This voice... Your voice... He'd know it anywhere. Yet, it can't be, right? Did he fall asleep? Is he dreaming? Is one of his brothers tricking him? Why would you talk to the cripple?

"My name is Y/N." He can hear the smile in your voice. "I was wondering... May I join you?"

Summoning the courage he's not sure he has, Ivar looks tentatively toward you.

Gods! You're even more beautiful up close. Fuck. Now that you're here, right next to him, he doesn't know what to say, what to do. Panic seizes his hammering heart as a lump rises in his throat. He attempts to swallow around it to speak, to say something, anything, but the words won't come out and he finally just nods, his hand gesturing to the bench for you to sit on.

"Thanks," you give him a broad smile before taking your seat.

Ivar cannot believe his eyes. What are you doing? Did you recognize him? Why are you here, with him?

"Woul–", he sputters, struggling to find his voice, "Wouldn't you rather be there?" Pointing his index finger at the crowd gathered in front of the makeshift stage just a few meters away. He frowns, tilting his head, "the party is in full swing."

"No, I'd rather not." You shrug and as you turn your head toward him, he breathes in your sweet scent, suddenly feeling dizzy. "The guys are already drunk and really have one thing on their minds. And those who are not are boring." You lower your gaze, as if embarrassed, and it's so adorable Ivar feels like his heart is melting. "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind."

Oh, he doesn't. He doesn't mind at all. The truth is, there's a fucking firework inside of him, and he barely contains the screams of happiness that threaten to escape his lips. "That's okay, you can stay," he says instead, his fidgeting fingers dancing on his lap.

Over the next hour or so, the conversation flows easily as you speak about Karasjok, the small town where you live, telling him about your mother's people, the Sami, their culture and customs.

Ivar shares with you bits and pieces of his life too, speaking about his passion for the Viking culture and about his belief in the ancient gods. The night, his night, is full of your laughs, full of your smiles, full of you. He wants it to never end.

He's still trying to figure out if you know who he is, if you remember meeting him once when you rise to your feet, almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "Walk with me, will you?"

He's about to break the truth about his inability to walk when he remembers that actually, thanks to Floki, he can. His eyes never leave yours as he grabs his cane with a little bit of self-consciousness, wincing as he stands up, but he can't see disgust, contempt, or disappointment on your face and your smile doesn't falter as you delicately slip your hand under his free arm, curling your fingers back over it. Shaken by your sudden proximity, Ivar feels goosebumps rising on his skin.

"It's such a lovely night and I'm so happy spending it with you."

Your words leave him speechless as you lead him close to the water. A bunch of guys can be seen in the distance and Ivar is pretty sure his brothers are among them. He can feel their heavy stares on him and doesn't need to hear them to know what they're saying. "Who's this dude? Do we know him?" Standing tall, with his braided hair and a blue suit, he knows he doesn't look like himself. Yet, as he locks eyes with Hvitserk for a second, he'd sworn he sees a hint of recognition crossing his brother's face. And as the latter gives him a thumbs up, he knows his mind is not playing tricks with him.

"Oh, I love this song!" You clap your hands twice before shrugging shyly. "Let's dance, please!"

Ivar's heart breaks. Scared out of his wits, he swallows hard, his breathing uneven. "I... I can't." It's a painful admission, and he wishes the ground would just swallow him up.

He realizes you pay no mind to his defeated tone, though, as you grab his cane, leaning it against a nearby tree. "We'll go slow, I promise."

Almost in spite of himself, he places his hands on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. Gently – cautiously – swaying to the music, Ivar leans in close and, inhaling deeply your delightful scent, he feels like he's going to spontaneously combust. Your head resting on his chest, he's sure you can hear his frantic, pounding heartbeat. But he can't bring himself to care, not when you're finally exactly where he wants you to be. In his arms.

That's why he doesn't hear the first beep, or if he does, he doesn't pay any attention, entranced by your beauty, your kindness and the mesmerizing color of your eyes.

But when you stop dancing, your eyebrows raised, "What's that beeping noise? It doesn't stop," he hears it too, cold sweats washing over him as panic courses through his body.

"I... I must... I must go," he stammers, and honestly he's about to throw up. He can't think, can't speak. All he knows is that he doesn't want you seeing him crawling around. He won't allow it. He can't.

Fuck.

That's why he leaves. He just strolls off. He doesn't see the appalled look you're giving him, doesn’t' realize he's leaving his black cane behind, doesn't hear the despair in your tone as you shout, "wait, please! I don't even know your name!"

He has only taken a few steps when crocodile tears run down his cheeks, blurring his sight. It hurts so much he could scream, and he can barely breathe as the realization starts to sink in. Who was he trying to fool? Sigurd had been right all along. No matter the exoskeleton, no matter the genius of his godfather, he's still a freak. A monster. An abnormality.

He doesn't belong. He's not worthy.

Fuck.

His heart shatters in a thousand pieces.

Fuck.

Y/N.

Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @adrille88

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings @heavenly1927 @dini73

#ivar #modern ivar #modern!ivar #modern-ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar fic #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #cherrypie’s500 #fairytale retelling #ivarello

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alwaysachorusgirl · 3 years ago

Text

Adoption Day

Pairing: Frederick Chilton x Female Reader

Word Count: 2089

For: Covers the Animal Shelter square for @adarafaelbarba 's fall moodboard bingo

TW: very brief mention of past childhood abuse and animal abandonment, but other than that, it's mostly fluff

Dedication: This is for the world's best cat mom, @madamsnape921 ,because it's her birthday! Go send her some birthday love today!

Author's Note: Jumping back a little in the Cat Daddy Frederick timeline to cover Buttercup's adoption story. Per my previously established continuity, this would take place in January, right after New Year's, and prior to "Not According to Plan"

Tags: @itsjustmyfantasyroom @prurientpuddlejumper @thatesqcrush @welcometothemxdhouse @raulesparza4eva @teamsladsandgents @rosequcrtz

The winter wind howled outside the window and snow drifted across the windowpanes, but inside Frederick Chilton’s ornate home you were safe and warm. No, our home, I live here now, you thought to yourself. You were still getting used to thinking of it as your home, too. You were unpacking the last of the boxes from your recent move. A fire was roaring in the living room fireplace, giving the room a cozy, comforting glow. You inhaled the aroma of the hearty vegetable stew that was cooking in the crockpot in the kitchen, and your stomach growled. You were going to need to take a dinner break soon, and as if he was reading your mind, Frederick entered the room and came over to where you were placing your books on the expansive built-in shelves.

“How goes it with the books? Do you need more shelf space? I can always move somethings into my office if you need more.”

“Thank you, Frederick, but don’t worry; I think I have more than enough. I am, however, getting rather hungry. I think it’s time we ate dinner, don’t you?

“I couldn’t agree more, my love, shall I set the table?” he asked, taking your hand, and helping you to your feet.

“Thank you, Frederick, that would be lovely.”

*****************

“This stew is fantastic, my love! We’ll most certainly have to use this recipe again.”

When you didn’t respond right away, Frederick started to worry and reached for your hand. “Darling?”

“Oh! Sorry! I zoned out for a moment, must be more tired than I thought; Thank you, Frederick, I have a whole slew of crock pot recipes that are perfect for cold winter days.”

“Y/N, are you alright? Have I done something wrong? Is it the house? Is there something you’re not happy with?”

“What? Oh, Frederick, no!” You squeezed his reassuringly. “You haven’t done anything wrong, my love, and the house is perfectly fine. It’s just…” you paused, not sure how to broach your thoughts.

“What is it? Whatever you need, I’ll make sure you have it! Cost is no object!”

You took a breath and tried to collect your thoughts. You loved cats, but your previous apartment had not allowed pets. You had promised yourself that when you eventually moved you would be a cat mom again. It had been far too long. But it was something that you and Frederick hadn’t discussed yet, and you had no idea what his feelings were on the subject.

“What did you think about getting a cat?” You blurted out, bracing yourself for what you were sure was going to be an argument.

It was now Frederick’s turn to go silent, taken aback by your unexpected query. He mulled it over in his head before answering.

“Honestly, my love, I’ve never thought about it before. I never had a pet of any kind growing up. My parents did not allow animals in the house.”

“Oh, Frederick, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” In theory, you knew you probably should have guessed that. You knew that Frederick’s father had been a hard, cruel man, and had been abusive toward Frederick and his mother. Frederick’s mother had been so worn down by it that she eventually shutdown, mentally and emotionally, and neglected to protect her son when he needed it the most. Of course, they hadn’t allowed pets, they hadn’t even allowed their son to have a normal childhood, or an ounce of happiness.

“My darling, you have nothing to apologize for,” said Frederick, placing soft kisses on the back of your hand. “If it’s a cat you want, then a cat you shall have. I’ll do some research after we finish here. Cats need supplies, right? Food, litter, toys, those fancy cat trees, cute little sweaters?”

****************

After dinner you and Frederick sat side-by-side on the couch with your laptops, him researching what kind of supplies you going to need to buy, and you were looking at your local SPCA’s website.

“Good god, I had no idea how many different types of cat litter there were!”

“Oh, Frederick, if you think that’s bad, wait until you see how competitive the cat food market is. Hmm…that’s interesting…”

“What is it?” asked Frederick, looking over at your laptop.

“This listing here,” you said, pointing at a blank gray box. “There should be a picture here, like there is for the other listings, but it’s blank. It says it’s supposed to be a 2-month-old black female…. hang on; I have an idea.”

You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and scrolled through your contacts until you found the name you were looking for. You hit “Call” and waited.

“Hello?” A voice finally picked up on the other end.

“Joanne! Hi! It’s Y/N. How are you?”

“I’m great, how are you? It’s been ages since the last time we hung out.”

“I’m good, and you’re right; it has been too long. Is this a good time to talk?”

“Sure! What’s up?”

“Do you still work for the county SPCA?”

“Oh, you bet I do! Oh my god, are you finally in the market to adopt?”

“Yes, I am, and I have a question about one of the cat listings on the website. The one that’s missing a picture?”

“Yes, I just noticed that a few hours ago. Our website person put that up prematurely. The kitten was just spayed, and normally we wait until the animal has had adequate recovery time before we add them to the site, but accidents happen. Last I checked, the little one is recovering nicely and should be ready to interact a couple days. She’s the sweetest thing. Someone dumped her in a cardboard box at our front door. She had a leg injury, but that’s also healing up. She loves to play, loves to cuddle, and I’ll think she’ll thrive in a good home. Would you like to make an appointment to see her?”

“Yes, I would! What time slots do you have available?”

*******************

A few days later, you and Frederick walked arm in arm into the county SPCA. Frederick had rush-ordered all the supplies you thought you’d need and then some. You both excited and nervous. You’d already taken a huge step by moving in together, and now you were adopting a pet. You looked over at Frederick and noticed the uncertainty in his eyes. He also seemed leaning on his cane for support. He always seemed to do that when he was unsure about something. You gave his arm a gentle squeeze and kissed his cheek.

“It’s going to be okay, Frederick, you’re to be a wonderful cat dad. I believe in you.”

Frederick blushed and placed a soft kiss on your temple.

“Thank you, my love, I appreciate your faith in me, even though I’m still not sure what’s done to deserve it, or you.”

Before you could respond to that, Joanne came out her office and rushed toward you.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you, too, Joanne.” You enveloped her in a big hug and then motioned to Frederick. “Joanne, this is Dr. Frederick Chilton, my Frederick.”

Frederick gave you the most loving of looks, and nearly melted into a puddle at your feet at sound of you referring to him as “your Frederick.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Chilton,” said Joanne, extending her hand.

“And you,” he replied, shaking hands.

“Well, I suppose you want to meet the little one; right this way!”

You and Frederick followed Joanne to cat section of the shelter. You walked past several cats, each one trying to get your attention from their enclosures. If you had your way, you’d take them all home, but you didn’t think Frederick was quite ready for that yet; but maybe one day…

“Here she is, “announced Joanne, stopping in front of one of the enclosures. A tiny black, fluffy kitten was inside, and her eyes lit up when she saw you. She was immediately on her feet, and you noticed she still had a slight limp in her injured leg, but she was full of energy and mewing incessantly. Joanne opened the door and carefully lifted her out. You reached out to take her, but the impatient kitten leapt out of Joanne’s hands and into your waiting arms.

“Oh! Hello! Hi baby, hi sweetheart,” you cooed.

“Mew, mew, mew!”

You looked into her eyes, and it was love at first sight. You did your best to hold onto her, shifting and adjusting your arms to accommodate her constant movement and attempts to climb up your shoulder. You gave her a little scratch between her ears and kissed her head. She was perfect.

“Mew! Mew!”

“Yes, baby, it’s okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Frederick stood there watching you with the kitten, completely dumbstruck. Just when he thought he couldn’t fall anymore in love with you, you had to go and surprise him. You were a natural cat mom, cradling the tiny ball of fluff and talking to her like she was a human. He saw the kitten rub her nose against your chin and looked like she was giving you kisses. He also saw the look of pure love and joy on your face, and he lived for that, wanted to see that every day. He didn’t know anything about raising a cat, but for you, he would try.

**************

Joanne led you to a visitor’s room so that you and Frederick could spend some quality time getting to know the kitten. Frederick removed his coat and offered to take the kitten so that you could take off yours. You demonstrated how to hold the kitten and then handed her to Frederick. He held her close to chest and sat down.

“Mew?” the kitten looked up at him, confused as to who this new person was.

“It’s alright, little one, I’ve got you,” he tried to reassure her. A lock of his normally perfectly quaffed hair suddenly flopped in his face, and the kitten’s eyes grew wide.

“Mew?” she raised a paw and tentatively batted at Frederick’s hair. “Mew…”

“Oh, that’s adorable,” you said, plopping down next to them on a bean bag chair. You saw the smile on his face and nudged him with your elbow. “See? She likes you. And I think she wants to play.” You looked around the room and saw the toy boxes, filled with various dog and cat toys, but then something else caught your eye. “Frederick?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Hand her back to me and take off your scarf, please.”

He did as he was told. You carefully placed the kitten on the carpet and proceeded to dangle the scarf in front if her. Her eyes went wide again, and then she crouched, wiggled her backside, and pounced. Her little paws batted at the scarf, then she would roll around kick at it with her hind legs.

“It certainly looks like she’s enjoying herself,” Frederick chuckled. “So, what are we going to call her?”

“I was thinking ‘Buttercup”,” you said matter-of-factly.

“I am not the least bit surprised,” he replied, immediately picking up on your reference. He looked at the kitten. “Well, what do you think about that little one?”

“Mew?”

“Your name,” you told her, “Buttercup, do you like it?”

“Mew, mew.” She forgot about the scarf and crawled into your lap, kneading you with her paws.

“I think she likes it.” You threw Frederick a smile.

“Yes, I quite think she does. I have an idea, how about a story? Would you like that Buttercup?”

“Mew.” She replied with a yawn,

“Darling, if you check your bag, I believe you’ll find a book there.”

You checked your purse, and sure enough, in the largest section was a children’s book, one that you instantly recognized from your own childhood.

“If You Give A Mouse A Cookie?”

“It came highly recommended by the lady at the bookstore.”

“It’s perfect, Frederick.” You handed him the book and leaned your head against his knee. As he began to read, Buttercup curled up in your lap and shut her eyes, she was soon fast asleep, purring away. When he finished reading, Frederick caressed your cheek with hand to get your attention.

“So, shall we go find Joanne and make it official?”

“Yes,” you replied, gazing down at Buttercup, “If we don’t take her home today, I think I’ll cry.”

“Then let’s go fill out the paperwork and bring her home.”

#frederick chilton x reader #frederick chilton x female reader #frederick chilton #cat daddy frederick #frederick chilton imagines #hannibal #hannibal fanfiction #adarafaelbarbaseptmeberbingo #my writing

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ootori-sibs · 2 years ago

Note

Wife bad!!

Tw: mentioned abuse, blood in the moodboard

Yoshio was left laying there, he was pretty sure he was bleeding a little and she’d definitely broken his nose again. He lay there for a while, trying to figure out if he’d be able to get up and hobble to his office. She’d taken his cane, so that was probably as far as he’d be able to get.

“Father..?” a small voice called out, and Yoshio felt his heart sink. Fiyumi, his little girl. She was seeing him in this state. He turned his head to look at her as she approached, kneeling beside him. “Are you okay? You got hurt again didn’t you?”

Again.

She knew this was a regular thing.

That felt more painful to Yoshio then any of the beatings.

“I’m alright,” he lied, “I’m just…” he tried to find an excuse for laying on the ground like this that a 12 year old would believe. He couldn’t find one. Sighing, he nodded, “I’m fine, I just made your mother a little upset. Could you do me a favour, Fiyumi?”

Fiyumi looked at him sadly, then got to her feet, holding a hand out to him. “Do you want to come to my room? I have a first aid kit in there, and it’s got stuff Yuui stole from the hospitals in it so I can probably fix you up better.”

Making a mental note to lecture Yuuichi on the stealing, Yoshio took his daughter’s hand and let her help him to his feet. “I’m fine, really. I can tend to my injuries myself, you shouldn’t be burde-”

“Father.” She looked at him, clearly upset but with a determination he recognised as his own…wherever that had gone. “You need help, you need to be patched up and I can do that. No one else is going to help you, father. I am willing.”

If Yoshio even still had a heart, he could feel it break. He loved his daughter so, so much, and to think that he’d raised such a kind and determined young woman- although, he supposed he couldn’t really take credit for raising her…

“Please.” She squeezed his hand, looking up at him with those big grey eyes that he’d sobbed over when she was born. “If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me. I’d like to spend some time with my father.”

#ouran high school host club #yoshio ootori #fiyumi ootori

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maracujatangerine · 3 years ago

Note

please can you describe what scars Cory has? thank you!

Hi!

Certainly! Thank you for asking! 💖

Cory doesn’t really have any scars to his face, all his previous owners were careful not to destroy his appearance.

His worst scars are all over his back, from being whipped and caned and cut. It is a criss-crossing jumble of red and pale scars and raised welts.

He has deep, red scars circling his wrists and ankles, from being tied up.

He also has scars around his neck from wearing a collar, and small scars on the side of his neck which are burn marks after wearing a shock collar. But those scars aren’t as deep as the ones around his wrists and ankles.

He has small scars on the soles of his feet and one jagged cut to the back of his right calf. He has scars hidden by his hair, from being hit in the head. He also has the WRU tattoo on his left underarm, with the number 247084.

Coriander has problems with his left shoulder, it was probably dislocated and badly reset, perhaps more than once. Indira has said that he probably needs to see a physiotherapist, but that he would need to get some x-rays done first. Lydia hasn’t really wanted to put him through it, but she knows that they have to deal with it sooner or later. It is not really visible, but he favours his left shoulder when he moves.

When Cory first arrived at Lydia’s place, he was really thin and malnourished and pale. He had a lot of bruises and needle marks along the inside of his arms and had marks from having a muzzle tied tightly to his face, but all of those faded quite fast. He overall looks much healthier now, less pale, still a bit too thin, but not as starving as before.

Here’s a description of Cory when he first arrived: https://maracujatangerine.tumblr.com/post/657223822786838528/16-watching-each-other

I have some face claims, too - if you like that sort of thing: https://maracujatangerine.tumblr.com/post/661887071577849857/do-we-have-art-or-face-claims-or-moodboards-for.

#lydia and coriander #thank you #thank you for the ask!#original character

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cloudycrystalkpop · 4 years ago

Text

SMOKY | Heaven Above

Blind! Prince! Mingi x [unstated skin deformity] fem! Reader

words: 3k+

warnings: childhood trauma, smut

au: crown royal au | moodboard

series masterlist: SMOKY

You lay in bed, just a bit away from the edge of the king sized mattress. Tonight was your wedding night, dressed in a silk slip that left little of your figure to the imagination, you looked to the other end of the bed, where your husband lay.

The boy was curled in a ball, his large frame made incredibly small and just a breath away from falling off the edge of his bed.

His body twitched and shook every now and again, you could only assume it was tears.

You couldn't blame him, in the madness of the last month youd cried yourself a sea of saltwater, watching as your future slipped away like sand from your fingers.

"... Mingi?" you spoke as softly as you could to the other end of the dark bed. The man jumped at the sound of his name.

"... Y-yes?" his voice shook in his throat, laced with fear. This caused you to frown.

"I know youre upset but, would you like to talk about it?" you offered gently. He stiffened at your words.

After a long minute of silence, and no movement from the other end of the bed, you assumed that perhaps he had fallen asleep, turning back to gaze up at the canopy.

"... Im sorry." the voice was so quiet you thought you might have imagined it. "Im sorry for everything. Im sorry youre stuck with someone... Someone like me."

"Someone... Like you? Marrying a stranger isnt something i resent you for." you tried to comfort him.

"No-well, yes but... You didnt have a choice..."

"Neither did you." you turned to face him, watching the outline of his back.

"... Mother says I should have run away and died in the woods." you felt shock fall on your chest at his confession. "Mother says im an embarrassment, that i shouldnt have been born. All ill ever be is a burden... And im sorry... Sorry that it falls to you know, and when im nothing more than a stranger... "

You felt a piece of your heart break at his words, the sniffles in his voice and the shaking of his shoulders now falling into place.

"Mingi, you are my husband. Which, means we are meant to be a team. I... Understand all of this is frightening, but, will you please give me a chance? So we can be... Not strangers anymore?"

After a long pause, the man rolled over, now facing you. You saw the stains on his cheeks reflected in the moonlight peeking in from the silk curtains.

Upon instinct, you reached out to tuck the hair away from his eyes, but you hesitated.

"... May i touch you?" you asked.

Mingi nodded his head, nuzzling his cheek into the pillow.

He flinched only slightly as you brushed his hair away from his eyes. Watching as he blinked them open, the smoky, empty irises stared back at you, tears still hidden in the corners.

"Mingi, I think... We can prove your mother wrong. With practice, you wont be a burden on anyone," you placed a hand on his cheek, watching his eyes flutter closed at the contact.

"With time, i think you can be a good king." the boys body racked in sobs once more as you pulled him close.

You slept that night, with your husband wrapped up in your arms. Tomorrow, is your coronation. You are to be the crown princess, and the sleeping man in your arms, the prince.

Mingi disliked walking with a cane. it was loud and he too often found himself still tripping on his own two feet. at home he knew the halls by heart, navigating them even when tired like any other resident. but in this new strange place, he had to keep one hand pressed against the wallpaper, feeling his way to build his map of this castle. the castle that was now his new prison.

he had been assigned a guard as his guide, a charming young man who gently guided the prince, Mingi’s left hand resting on his shoulder, his right hands fingertips brushing the walls.

you trailed behind the pair, watching curiously. Mingi’s head rested bent, his chin almost touching his chest. his resting state seems to always involve making himself as small and unnoticeable as possible.

the guard’s playful voice chimed in, interrupting your studying of your husband.

“I must say, I really expected you to deny the request for me to join you today, Your Highness.” he smiled over his shoulder, clearly speaking to you.

“oh? and why is that?” you asked.

“well, you have that knight of yours~ he speaks so fondly of you, and I almost never see you two apart. I was almost frightened id make him jealous.” the man giggled.

“hmm, Seonghwa has been loyal to me since I was a teenager. I trust him very much as I'm sure you've seen.” you nod. “may I ask your name sir...?”

“Hongjoong!” he smiles over his shoulder, bowing his head.

“...are...we in the main hall?” a quiet voice speaks. Mingi’s hand fell from running along the wall, instead laying limp at his side.

“ah, yes! it would seem we have arrived!” Hongjoong chimed.

the coronation was, a frightening experience. you stood at the head of the hallway, almost envying Mingi for not having to look the countless royals in the eye. see the seething and loathing, and plots for your murder, just to take a crown you never even wanted to begin with.

you placed your hand on your husbands bent arm, and it was then you realized, he was shaking. it was customary that the now crown prince lead his princess out of the hall, but Mingi still had only half learned the layout of this castle. never mind the panic he was hiding under the circlet on his head.

“Mingi,” you spoke, not even a whisper. you felt his arm flex under your hand. “match my footsteps, and lets get out of here.” he let the smallest nod, and the two of you set off.

you held your head high, eyes forward, not even bothering to return the stares from the court. you would be queen, weather you liked it or not, and now was not the time to show weakness. now was the time to prove that you were unshakeable. your “unroyal appearance” be damned.

when you arrived back at your bedroom, Mingi asked if he could have a moment alone. the poor man was close to tears once more, arms wrapped around his body as he shrunk into a chair, curling in on himself once again.

a part of you wanted to go and pull the shaking man into your arms just as you had done the night before. cooing soft words into his hair. but, you didn't want to invade his space, so instead you ventured out, closing the door behind you.

“my Lady!” a new voice called from down the hallway. you turned to see a head of dirty blonde hair, as a court member walked up to you. you braced yourself, turning to face the man head on. “my Lady, I don't mean to intrude, but I wanted to introduce myself. I am Duke Kang Yeosang, of the west valley.” he kneeled before you, head bowed low.

you blinked in surprise. a duke? on his knees in an introduction?

“you needn't be so formal, Duke Kang. there is no guard here to pierce your breast for sneezing at the wrong time.”

the man let out a hearty laugh, raising to his feet.

“ah, I see you dread such social conventions as well. and please My Lady, just Yeosang.” he smiled. the man before you was incredibly handsome, his speaking voice a gentle but deep baritone. he then took your hand, placing a kiss to the back of it, bending in a low bow with his eyes closed as his lips lingered just a moment on your skin.

your heart beat echoed in your head as the warmth of his mouth on your bare skin. swallowing your blush down, you gently pulled your hand away from his touch. his eyes opened, staring up at you through his lashes.

“I am sorry my Lady, have I made you uncomfortable?” his brows furrowed in a frown, before the edge of a sword meets his neck.

“step away from the princess please.” a growl like voice calls from behind the Duke.

“Seonghwa! this man means no harm, leave him alone.” you glare to the man with the sword.

“if that is true perhaps you should answer his question Princess-”

“no. no, he did not make me uncomfortable. he simply took me by surprise.” you stated, staring down the man with the sword. he sighed, but sheathed his blade nonetheless.

“you should speak to your future Queen with more respect.” Yeosang stated.

“you shouldn't touch people without their consent.” countered Seonghwa.

a sigh fell from your lips. so this is a new dynamic you are going to have to deal with.

as the days bled into weeks, you found yourself within the company of the young Duke often, your guard dog never far behind. the pair could never get along, Seonghwa seeming to think every time Yeosang breathed, it was a threat to your safety.

you’ve spent countless hours in the library, Yeosang at your side, coaching you through politics, philosophies, and ideologies. his eyes sparked every time, he as well fit for the part of a Duke.

you’d be lying to say that the closeness with the young man didn't stir something within you. his curious eyes, his intelligent speech, the way he guided you.

more than just a flutter in your stomach, Yeosang’s long thin fingers dancing across the pages, the small dart of his tongue to his lips before speaking. this man sired feelings in you you had ignored since your girlhood.

days curled up in the library, hiding away from prying eyes, reading the strangest erotic poems you could find. most so ridiculous they made you snicker. but others... that was the same warmth you felt when Yeosang grabbed you by the wrist to keep you from knocking off your water goblet.

“my Lady, you must be careful! you could have stained your dress.” he placed your hand back in your lap.

“nonsense, water will dry. it leaves no stains anyway.” you huffed. Yeosang let out that hearty laugh once again.

Seonghwa complained about the Duke while escorting you back to your quarters. you simply laughed and rolled your eyes at his childishness.

“princess, please promise me you will call me if that... that mockingbird, ever lays his hands on you.” you laughed once more at his words.

‘mockingbird’ for his deep and ‘droning’ voice Seonghwa hated so much.

“you are not my father Seonghwa. you needn’t be so protective over such things.” you teased. “or are you perhaps, jealous?”

Seonghwa’s cheeks tinted pink as he looked down. “...you have not called on me for such... help, in a long time.” he admitted.

ah, that explains his borderline possessiveness.

“...Seonghwa, I am a married woman.” you stated.

“I know that! but you are not married to that Duke-” you cut him off with a sharp turn on your heel.

“enough.” Seonghwa fell silent at your stern tone. “watch your tongue, for you speak above your rank and I have little interest in hearing it.”

he clenched his jaw, but did not speak further.

“I have no further need for you tonight. you are dismissed.”

“as you wish, my princess.” he bowed low, but he never dropped his eye contact with you. Seonghwa begged you silently, begged for the affection you used to wrap yourself in. Seonghwa was a loyal knight, one who would carry out any request you had of him, be it sinful or murderous.

but you had little interest in making an adulteress out of yourself tonight.

you turned your back to the man, and entered your room.

it took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, but once you had settled into the darkness, you could see the figure of your husband sitting on the bed, head in his hand.

“Mingi? are you alright?” you quickly rushed to his side of the bed, kneeling before him.

“y-yes, I'm alright, I'm sorry to frighten you.” he spoke softly, raising his head from his hands. you felt a twitch of pain in your chest at the puffiness around his eyes.

“have you been crying, my darling?” you asked, raising to wipe the dampness from his cheeks. his breath hitched, before he sniffled. grasping at your wrists, Mingi raises his head, empty eyes level with your own.

“...will you be honest with me?” he asks.

“of course, Mingi you are my Husband, I have nothing to hide from you-”

“stop. do not- please... please don’t say that until I've asked you my question.” his face is pulled in pain and sorrow, cracking your heart. you fall to your knees once again, placing your hands in his lap, and leading your head against one of his bent knees.

“what is your question, my prince?”

“is it true you have slept with the Duke?” his voice is small as tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

“no. I have never had any form of physical intimacy with Duke Kang. the man kissed the back of my hand when we first met, never have we done more.” your words were true, and you saw relief flood Mingi’s chest.

“...thank you... thank you thank you thank you...” he let out a hiccup just as you cupped his cheek.

“who told you such an awful rumor?” you questioned, raising to your feet.

“i... I overheard some of the guards speaking about it.” he admitted. “people forget... I am blind, not def.” you nearly jumped to ask who he had heard saying such things, but thought better of it for the moment.

“and people are fools for such a thing.” you lifted Mingi’s head gently, before placing yourself on his lap. “and they are bigger fools for gossiping about something with no evidence.” gently, you lay Mingi’s head to rest on your collar.

the man melted at your touch, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your chest.

“...you smell... like honey...” he mumbled, voice far away and almost intoxicated.

chuckling you petting his hair, “perhaps you are hungry, my darling prince.” Mingi let out a whine at your words. quickly pulling your hand away you raised his head again, thinking you had caused him pain from the sound.

his eyes were glazed over, cheeks pink, and breath panting in his chest. ah, not pain, pleasure.

“Mingi... have you ever slept with a woman before?” you purr. the man swallows hard.

“no. you think... any woman would want to crawl into bed with me.” he sighs. you tisk, grabbing a fist full of his hair and pulling his head back.

Mingi lets out a squeak of surprise, that quickly turns into a high pitched moan.

“you are the fool now, little prince. I understand you may have not had the privilege of seeing yourself in the mirror, but” you lean down so your lips graze the shell of his ear. “you are one of the most attractive men I have ever laid eyes on.” you feel Mingi shiver beneath you.

grabbing his jaw tightly, you twist his head, turning it away from you. “I do not care about your blindness Mingi, if I hear such negative self speech from you again, it will earn you a punishment.” he whines once more, before you begin peppering his open neck with kitten kisses.

“p-pl-please-” he whines, hands fisted in your dress, chest rattling with every breath he takes.

“please what? my darling prince~” you coo softly, hands now scratching through his hair.

“p-please... please... use me... I need you...” his voice cracks, barely speaking each word. you coo, cupping the mans cheeks.

“we have been married for almost a month, my prince, and yet we have yet to consecrate our marriage~” you tease, tracing your fingers down his throat.

Mingi may be blind, but it takes little time for him to map out your whole body.

his head thrown back against the pillows, neck on full display for you. one of his large hands with a bruising grip on your hip, the other’s fingers tangled with yours above his head. you coo softly to the man as he gasps in pleasure, your free hand bracing yourself on his chest.

you press your forehead to his, panting from the energy it takes to keep bouncing on him. you are thankful he never asked if you had experience in sex, for you worried he might be saddened at the truth.

yet even still, the mere... size of Mingi had your eyes rolling back in your head when you first sunk down on him.

you heard his voice hitch in his throat, hand pulling more on your hip.

“..I-i-ahh-” you could feel him pulse within you. shushing him, you leaned over to place more kisses over his throat.

“its alright, little prince, let it go. will you cum for me?” you cooed softly.

right at your command, Mingi came, spilling himself within you. his voice cried out your name, shoulders shaking as he squeezed your hand.

you softly cooed as you helped him ride out his orgasm, petting his hair and running your hands over his torso. his body finally stilled, and you felt him begin to go soft within you.

your thighs burned slightly as you lifted yourself off of his lap, feeling his cum drip and pool out of you. Mingi whined at the loss of warmth, hands pulled at your hips.

“I-i’m sorry, you didn't...” his face still burned pink, hair a mess on the pillows as he finally began to catch his breath.

“its alright Mingi, you can make it up to me another night.” you chuckled. He swallowed, but nodded.

after leaving to the attached bathroom to clean yourself up and change into your night clothes, you returned to the bed to find Mingi had managed to change the blanket the two of you had soiled. you smiled, noting not to underestimate the man in the future.

“can we... can we do that more?” Mingi mumbled as you crawled into bed beside him.

“of course~” you cooed, stroking his cheek. he sighed in contentment, mumbling to himself.

“what have I done to deserve you...” he wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling you against his body. “...I am no good for a husband... and probably worse choice for a king... but, for you..” he blinked his eyes open, somehow managing to stare at you. “for you... I'll be whatever you want me to be.”

“is that so? you’ll do anything I ask?” you cooed.

“yes. yes, I promise. you... you own me, mind, body, whatever you want from me... take it.” he begged, eyes hazy once more.

“lets not worry about such things now, little prince.” pulling the man against you, Mingi quickly fell asleep against your chest.

“you own me, mind body, whatever you want from me... take it.”

“oh sweet boy, you should be more careful with your words. you’ve already got me falling in love with you.”

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moderarato · 3 years ago

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oc aesthetics.

thanks to the lovely @solarisrenbeth for tagging me in this oc aesthetics challenge!!! I’ve been in desperate need of inspiration, so I made a messy moodboard to go along with it. tagging @nerdferatum, @sailorpleiades @follies-fixture, @notasdryapricots, and @ariendiel (if ya want to, no pressure as always <3)

ESTE [she/her, LITG + Body Count]

highest aesthetics score: Light - Incandescent Bulbs | Body Language - Insecurity & Anxiety | Sense - Touch

— LIGHT SOURCES

SUN RAYS. effervescent smiles, dandelion puffs, bare feet, beach waves, flowers pressed into books, champagne glasses, rose-gold eye shadow, boho skirts, wire-rimmed glasses, hair in loose waves, kaleidoscope eyes, sunshine in your hair, fire in your soul.

INCANDESCENT BULBS. crop tops, floral print, dancing in the rain, quiet defiance, hand-knit beanies, rosé, painted bookmarks, marble floors, cirrus clouds against a blue sky, polaroid pictures, hands held, fingers intertwined, flower crowns, baby bluebirds.

STARDUST. lace bralettes, brisk breezes, jasmine-scented perfume, books with yellowed pages, tracking constellations, sterling silver, violin music, chess games, iced coffee, glittery dresses, high heels, secret grins, midnight meetings, wishing upon a star.

CANDLE FLAMES. denim jackets, gladiator sandals, braided hair, messenger bags, movies at the cinema, stolen kisses, wax-sealed envelopes, haiku poetry, cherry wood, succulents, fountain pens, jigsaw puzzles, soft tired eyes, hidden smiles, cuddling with someone you trust.

MOONBEAMS. newspapers, over-sized sweaters, dancing shadows, fleece throws, cutoff shorts, piano chords, red wine, messy buns, embossed journals, a hint of blush dusted across your cheeks, freshly fallen snow, tranquil solitude, burning incense.

AURORAS. combat boots, burgundy lips, infectious laughter, spiral-bound notebooks, pencils used down to the stub, ripped jeans, painted nails, cloud-watching, summer thunderstorms, hiking trails, vinyl records, film cameras, skating on a frozen lake, hot chocolate by the fire.

FIREWORKS. dancing until the break of dawn, Heelys, being wheeled around in a shopping cart by your best friend, the euphoria of soaring through the air, being excited for what the future holds, group hugs, colorful tattoos, bronzer-highlighted cheeks, hugging a stuffed animal, lifting a child onto your shoulders, space buns, bright streaks in your hair.

— BODY LANGUAGE

DEFENSIVENESS. arms crossed on chest, crossing legs, fist-like gestures, pointing index finger, karate chops, stiffening of shoulders, tense posture, curling of lip, baring of teeth.

REFLECTIVE. hand-to-face gestures, head tilted, stroking chin, peering over glasses, taking glasses off; cleaning, putting earpiece of glasses in mouth, pipe smoker gestures, putting hand to bridge of nose, pursed lips, knitted brows.

SUSPICION. arms crossed, sideways glance, touching or rubbing nose, rubbing eyes, hands resting on weapon, brows raising, lips pressing into a thin line, strict, unwavering eye contact, wrinkling of nose, narrowed eyes.

CONFIDENCE. hands behind back, hands on lapels of coat, steepled hands, baring teeth in a grin, rolling shoulders, tipping head back but maintaining eye contact, chest puffed up, shoulders back, arms folded just above navel, wide eyes, standing akimbo.

INSECURITY & ANXIETY. chewing pen or pencil, rubbing thumb over opposite thumb, biting fingernails, biting lips, hands in pockets, elbow bent, closed gestures, clearing throat, “whew” sound, picking or pinching flesh, fidgeting in chair, hand covering mouth whilst speaking, poor eye contact, tugging pants whilst seated, jingling money in pockets, tugging at ear, perspiring hands, playing with hair, swaying, playing with pointer; marker; cane, smacking lips, sighing, rocking on balls of feet, flexing or cracking fingers sporadically, leg bouncing.

ANGER & FRUSTRATION. short breaths, “tsk” sounds, tightly-clenched hands, fist-like gestures, pointing index finger, rubbing hand through hair, rubbing back of neck, snarling, revealing teeth, grimacing, sharp-eye glowers, notable tension in brow, shoulders back, head up; defensive posturing, clenching of jaw, grinding teeth, nostrils flaring, heavy exhales.

— SENSES

SIGHT. small towns, big cities, six thirty curfews, lights that take the place of stars, blanket nests, light through the blinds as a wake up call, found family, finding a single star in the middle of new york city, window shopping, watching something terrible and enjoying it, wilted flowers, faded caricatures, bright, bold colors.

HEARING. crickets and lightning bugs, car engines and a.c. units, a phone call to mum/dad, laughing with friends, jokes that are so bad you have to laugh, the clicking of computer keys, noise cancelling headphones, the sound of silence, muffled music from another room, drumming fingertips on a table, clicking of pens, listening to a clock and swearing the ticks get slower, ringing in the ears, the voice of someone you love, pitch shifted songs.

TOUCH. being held close during a long night, fleeting reassurances, holding hands when you’re scared, brushing fingers through strands of hair, freshly dried clothes, bruises on your knuckles, silk and satin, your favorite pet’s fur or feather, wringing your hands anxiously, snuggles, comforters in the dead of winter, nails against skin, cold metal, leather in summer.

TASTE. coffee in the morning, tea in the evening, bubblegum that lost its flavor, alcohol burning the back of your throat, homemade cooking no matter what’s made, blood in your mouth, stale air, mint, fresh vegetables, that processed taste of citrus candy, the first meal you cook by yourself that tastes good, foreign sweets, fast food, bittersweet, sour, spicy, sweet, bitter, too much salt on fries.

#I don't think we are supposed to tally them but #the end results...too fitting tbh #ok this challenge gave me LIFE #I want more like this #I'm sorry I'm so extra an made a mb you know I cant help myself when it comes to este hjgfhjg #rr: tag game #rr: moodboard #rr oc: este

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paraulescelestials · 4 years ago

Photo

⚢ Lesbian ⚢

To experience attraction to women/women aligned people while being a woman/woman aligned

[ID: A 3 x 3 square moodboard with pictures, its borders are white:

A view from inside a car. The glass is wet and is slightly foggy, showing a distorted view of a road with trees. The sky seems to be a bright fuchsia while the trees and road are a deep purple | Multiple Dahlia flowers, all of them are a medium pink with a yellow center | A white wall meeting a white floor. Three perpendicular lines cross both of them, changing orientation when they go from the floor to the wall. They go from the left to the right: green pea, forest green and conch shell pink.| Many small purple flowers that go from navy purple to plum | The Sappho lesbian flag, made up of four horizontal stripes that go from true purple, carnation pink, dandelion yellow and bright green | A raised view of a path through a forest. The trees are in two rows and have a lot of greenery, there’s sun shining above them but can’t be seen. | A purple and yellow pansy, it’s front petals are a warm yellow with short black lines near its center while the outer petals are a deep purple| A closeup of a bumble bee on a young sunflower | A closeup of a dumb cane’s leaves, which have a dark green border and vein while the rest is a bright yellow, like the background. End of ID]

X / X / X befunky collage tool

X / Z / X Lesbian flag by @lydiandragon = this moodboard!

X / X / X I am also at waterfall.social

#lesbian #LGBTQIA+#pride moodboard #described images #image described

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worryinglyinnocent · 5 years ago

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Fic: Save the Last Dance

Summary: Lacey digs a little deeper into her employer’s past, finding out a little-known secret about Mr Gold.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling moodboard prompt, available here.

Rated: T

Save the Last Dance

Although everyone in town said that Mr Gold was an enigma, Lacey had never really believed it herself until she had started working for the man. She could never tell what he was thinking or whether he was serious about any of the threats he made, but she knew better than to push her luck too far.

Lacey’s greatest talent had always been knowing just how far she could get away with pushing, and after working for Mr Gold for three months and knowing no more about him now than she had done at the start – perhaps even less – she decided that she was going to use that talent to learn something, anything, about the man.

It was not out of any desire to profit from her knowledge, merely to satisfy her own curiosity. He was a man wrapped up in so many layers of mystery alongside all his layers of clothing that he was almost impossible to read, and Lacey wanted to know what made him tick. It would make working in the shop alongside him a lot easier if she knew something about him.

She’d always had a sneaking suspicion that she was what made him tick. After all, he wouldn’t have taken her on as an assistant if he didn’t like her at least a little. But nothing he ever did or said whilst they were alone in the shop together ever gave her the slightest indication that he felt any kind of attraction to her, sexual or otherwise, and he certainly never really showed her any kind of affection. Sometimes, given the amount of snark that went back and forth between them, Lacey wondered why he’d even hired her in the first place.

Although, that said, she knew that she would miss the snark if she no longer had it in her life, and it had become an integral part of their… relationship? Friendship? Were they close enough to each other to use either of those words? Lacey knew that she would certainly be happy if that were the case; as infuriating as he could be at times, she couldn’t deny that she had definitely grown more than a little attracted to Mr Gold over the past few weeks.

She sighed. Gold had gone out to fetch their lunch order from Granny’s and she was alone in the shop. It was the perfect opportunity for snooping around and learning what she could. It wasn’t the first time that Gold had left her alone in the shop, and it definitely wasn’t the first time that she’d taken a closer look at some of the stock, but it was the first time that Lacey was undertaking her detective work with a serious goal in her head.

Mind you, she didn’t really know what she was hoping to achieve by looking around the shop. It wasn’t as if Gold kept all that many of his personal belongings here; they were all up at the salmon pink monstrosity he called a house, and Lacey highly doubted that she would ever be in the privileged position of being able to snoop around in there. Still, she might as well take advantage of this time now that she had it.

She wandered over to the old gramophone in the corner, dragging out the record box from underneath it and blowing off the dust. Gold didn’t usually let her play music in the shop; occasionally he might allow the radio but normally she was in headphones. She didn’t even know if the gramophone still worked, but a bit of tinkering had it going, and she set about finding something to play.

This proved slightly more difficult than she was expecting since none of the records were labelled; all of them in plain card sleeves. She grabbed one at random and put it onto the turntable, carefully putting the needle into place.

It was big band music, a swinging, thirties’ style jive, and Lacey raised an eyebrow even as she started to tap her feet to the beat. This was certainly an interesting find, although she didn’t know what it told her about Gold. Before long, she was dancing around the back room. The professionals on Dancing with the Stars definitely didn’t have anything to worry about, and she was glad that no-one could see her.

Actually, Gold might walk in with her lunch at any moment. Lacey stopped dead on hearing his voice and spun around to see him standing in the doorway through to the main shop.

“I didn’t realise that old thing still worked.”

Lacey switched off the music and went over to Gold, taking the paper bags from him and spreading out their lunch over the workbench. She’d already taken a couple of bites out of her sandwich when she realised that Gold was still standing transfixed in the doorway.

“Gold? Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He was definitely paler than usual, his eyes staring off into the middle distance and looking right through Lacey even as she gave him a tentative wave. Eventually he shook himself and came into the room fully, sitting down to eat with her. Lacey paused with a handful of fries halfway to her mouth.

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yes, yes, dearie, I’m fine. It’s just been an awfully long time since I last heard that music, that’s all.”

Lacey didn’t say anything as she continued with her meal, but her brain was clanging pots and pans together and blowing horns inside her head, telling her that this was it and she had finally made the breakthrough that she had been looking for. The gramophone and these records were the key – to what she didn’t yet know, but to something.

It was the first time that she’d seen Gold have a truly emotional reaction to anything, although she couldn’t quite tell what emotion he was feeling. She was onto something here, and further investigation was definitely warranted.

Lacey was never normally one for working any more hours than she absolutely had to, and she knew that Gold would have some kind of quip for her when he saw that she’d got to the shop first, but sometimes detective work required some sacrifices. She began to paw through the box of records again, putting another one on the turntable. This one was slower, Latin.

Lacey counted beats on her fingers. Was it rumba? It was music to dance to at any rate, a close, paired dance evocative of sultry summer nights. She closed her eyes and swayed in time with it until the sudden cut-off startled her out of her trance. Gold was standing by the gramophone, his expression unreadable.

“Morning, Mr Gold. I just thought I’d investigate some more of these old records, since they seem to have been here for such a long time.”

“Please don’t.” Gold took the record off the turntable and slipped it back into its sleeve.

“OK. Why not?”

“Just don’t! Now clean up in here and get to work, it’s inventory day as you well know.”

Lacey was about to point out that the records were part of the inventory and it would make sense for her to continue her investigation, but she sensed that she was on the brink of overstepping a boundary and she left well alone.

Gold gave off a distinctly frosty air until lunch, when he heaved a huge sigh just as Lacey was getting ready to go to Granny’s.

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

Lacey stopped in her tracks. Gold had never yet apologised for shouting or snapping at her, and neither had she to him.

“That’s ok.”

“The music just brings back painful memories that I don’t want to revisit. But if you want to listen to the records, you’re welcome to take them home with you.”

Lacey shook her head. “Nothing to play them on.”

“Then you can take the gramophone as well. I’ll get Dove to bring it over tonight.”

“Mr Gold, are you sure?” She wanted to ask who are you and what have you done with Gold? “It must be worth a fortune.”

“It’s yours if you want it,” Gold said firmly.

“OK then… Thank you very much.”

Lacey made her way to Granny’s, not entirely sure that she wasn’t stuck in the middle of a very strange dream.

Gold was as good as his word, and Dove delivered the gramophone and records that evening. Lacey spent the next week slowly working her way through the collection. It was only once she opened the last record sleeve that she pieced together the truth.

It did not contain a record. Inside were scattered photographs – some professional prints, some clipped from newspapers, all of them of the same couple, frozen in the middle of a waltz or cha-cha. The woman she didn’t recognise, but there was no mistaking that the man was the Mr Gold of thirty-odd years ago.

Lacey hurriedly shuffled the photos back into the record sleeve. He couldn’t have known that they were in there; there was no way that he would let anyone see that part of his past.

Part of her was telling her not to mention it, that what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt either of them. The other part was convincing her that she ought to return the photos to their rightful owner. Lacey sighed. It was probably time to do the grown-up thing for once.

Gold seemed to be in a good mood when she walked into the shop the next morning, although she didn’t know how long that would last after she had said her piece.

“Mr Gold? I think that these belong to you.”

She handed over the record sleeve with the photos in, and Gold looked confused for a moment until he looked inside. The ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

“So, that’s where she put them,” he murmured. “I knew that she must have hidden them somewhere.” He looked up. “Thank you, Lacey.”

Lacey shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t like I had any use for them.” She paused, wanting to probe further now that she had this opening, but scared of the shutters slamming down in her face. He was looking at one of the photos now, from the bright red dress and low dip, Lacey guessed that it was a tango or paso doble.

“So…” she began hesitantly. “You used to be a professional dancer?”

Gold nodded. “It was a long, long time ago.”

“I guess I know why you quit.” She glanced at his cane, resting against the workbench. “Your partner’s beautiful. What’s her name?”

“Her name was Belle,” Gold said softly. “She was my fiancée as well as my partner. I lost her at the same time I got this.” He tapped the cane. “I always vowed that I’d never dance with anyone but her. I didn’t realise that it would be literally.”

Lacey reached across and touched his trembling hand. “I’m so sorry.”

It was time to leave well alone, and she came out into the main shop to open up, setting up behind the counter with her phone until custom arrived. Morbid curiosity had her open up Youtube and slip her headphones in. Surely some video footage must exist. She typed Cameron Gold ballroom dance into the search bar and waited for it to load on the shop’s shaky wifi. The third result down showed what she wanted.

1999 National Championships – Cameron Gold and Belle Marchland – Viennese Waltz

The footage was grainy but still mesmerising to watch, both of them flying around the floor as if their feet were barely touching the ground.

“You remind me of her sometimes.”

Lacey looked over her shoulder guiltily to see Gold standing there. He didn’t look put out, more just amused.

“She was ridiculously stubborn, just like you. Tenacious like nothing else.”

At least that sort of solved the mystery of why he’d hired her.

“She’s a much better dancer than I am.”

“I think that goes without saying. But I appreciate you for your own merits now.”

Lacey was a little taken aback by this confession.

“I wasn’t aware that I had any merits.”

“Of course you do. You’re committed, you don’t take any nonsense from anyone, including me, you’re independent and resourceful, and although you like to pretend that you’re brash and that you don’t care, there’s a wonderfully compassionate soul underneath it all.”

Lacey swallowed. “Do you like me, Mr Gold?”

He nodded slowly. “I know that I don’t have much to offer you except bitterness and sarcasm.”

“I don’t mind a little bitterness and sarcasm.” Lacey bit her lip. It was only comparatively recently that she’d started thinking about him in that way, but the more she learned, the more she was drawn towards him. “Maybe you can find a new partner to dance with after all. Even if this one has two left feet.”

“I think I can work with that.”

The kiss that they shared was chaste and tentative, everything still raw and tender in the aftermath of learning about Belle, but Lacey liked to think that it had promise in it.

She smiled and leaned in to kiss him again. It seemed as if Gold, stuck in the past for so long, was finally looking to the future, and Lacey was happy to be a part of it.

#rumbelle fic #A Monthly Rumbelling #Golden Lace #Mr Gold #Lacey French #Fic: Save the Last Dance #AU

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