ostavil | rain meme for marriageable

rain meme for marriageable

( It's been a few weeks since he'd met Daphne trying to clear debris from the big storm that basically wrecked all of September and there's another storm coming down but at least this time it's rain and not sticky lorasses or something even more unpleasant. It's not the best weather but he's still glad he managed to get the roof and sides back onto his house before it came up; being outside in this is not his idea of a good time.

That's why he's incredibly confused when there's a blurry figure outside in this weather. There's a crack of lightning and he can see a little more clearly - it's Daphne, soaked through her sky-blue dress and her hair plastered to her head. He throws his door open and motions her inside. He had rebuilt his house a little bigger than he'd found it but it's still small so they'll be close but at least she'll be dry. )

Why are you walking around in this? You could have called or something.

( It's not said with admonishment or anything like that. Daphne's a grown woman and perfectly entitled to walk around in the rain if she wants to but she looks smaller, somehow, with all her clothes dripping with water. She doesn't even have a hat. Damn. )

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[ A small laugh, dry but there. At least her sense of humor made it through the storm. ]

Should I be insulted you think I would take advantage of your kindness?

[ She gives a last look back through the paneled window, then to her drenched gown, worried both for his flooring and that of one of her only gowns. There aren’t many options for a girl from the Jane Austen era around these parts; she’s had to do a lot of improvising and working on fashioning her own dresses.

The little house is sparse in decoration and furniture — she notices that on the climb up, but it comes into sharper relief once she’s in the bedroom. There’s little more than the bed and dresser.

The emptiness occupies her thoughts as she removes all the layers she took care in putting on that morning, all the way out of her chemise, and then wrings out as much moisture from her gown in the adjoining washroom. The mirror reflects a pale, disheveled girl, almost unrecognizable in the dark t-shirt she quickly picked out of his possessions. The smell of soap is there, but so is something musky, masculine.

Her hair unsalvageable, she unbinds it, shaking it out, before climbing down, her feet and quite a bit of her legs bare. ]

( He knows he shouldn't look. He absolutely should not look. However, last he checked he still had a pulse and so he looks and then looks again before looking away and coughing awkwardly. Daphne's already in the house with a man she barely knows, she doesn't need him staring at her on top of it.

There's a blanket on the small couch he has in what passes for a living room so he passes it over to her. )

Get warm and tell me what inspired you to take a walk all the way over here to see me instead of using the relic thingie? Did you miss my face or something?

[ She will pretend not to notice the staring; she doesn’t know what to do about it beyond blush to her roots, her pulse quickening, jumping at her throat. Anyone else she would be liable to throttle, but you don’t scream at somebody after you came to visit them and then dripped all over their newly rebuilt home.

Accepting the blanket, it’s quickly wrapped around her middle. Very unfashionable, but it will have to do. Swallowing, she ventures over to the lit fireplace. She’s not too much of a lady to refuse to sit beside it, lowering herself to her knees and crowding close to the warmth.

It’s a few minutes before she gets up the will to speak. ]

And what if I did? [ Her voice, gentle but firm. ] Would that be so wrong?

No, nothing wrong with that. Just surprising, is all. I would venture a guess that you've met people a lot more interesting and much nicer than I am on a regular basis.

( He's been nothing but gracious and polite to Daphne, actually, and the only not-nice thing he's done is looked at her more than a nice, friendly person would do. She's a beautiful woman and he's not dead so it's happened but he's tried to keep it subtle so she doesn't get embarrassed. She hasn't told him to stop or anything and she's clearly fine with visiting him so he hasn't committed a cardinal sin. Yet, anyway. )

People actually don't make a habit of visiting me at all, come to think of it. You're my first visitor here.

[ Daphne cuts her eyes at him in mild surprise. ] No one?

[ That is very sad, but she refrains from saying so. Her eyes speak for her.

This is very much not how she envisioned things going. Then, she also hadn’t envisioned the sky falling out on her way over.

She’s not entirely sure what she thought would happen when she got here, but she sighs, reaching her hands out closer to the flame. ]

You’ve been a wonderful guide... and friend. I truly cannot grasp why you insist on speaking with such negativity toward yourself.

You could say that if I set the expectations low, nobody can be disappointed in what they get. Still, I'm glad you think so. You've been a pretty good friend too, actually. It's been fun showing you things.

( The way she looks now with her hair disheveled and out of her proper dress, Bucky can imagine she looks just like this when she first wakes up and that's a very dangerous thought. He puts that thought in a box and locks it up tight. )

I'm not exactly the kind of person that the Ninth Viscount Bridgerton would want around his sister, I'm sure, but I won't let anything happen to you either.

[ The look he gets for that is a slow, lingering smile. The color is coming back to her cheeks, slowly but surely.

She has to keep pushing the sleeves of his shirt up around her wrists, it’s so long on her. A laugh tumbles out of her throat. ]

My eldest brother is [ a whoring rake ] not precisely the company a proper lady keeps himself. He hardly gets to have an opinion on who I befriend and how I choose to spend my time. [ Anymore. ]

Besides, [ she points out, her stomach pinching at the thought, ] he’s not here, is he?

No, he's not. I'm just saying I might not be the kind of company a proper lady keeps either but you keep coming to talk to me anyway. That's some of that stubbornness again, yeah? Even if I'm not a tree limb you're trying to haul away?

( Bucky's glad that Daphne has actually made the effort because the last time he made the effort, it went sideways, and he didn't really feel the need to stick his neck out again until she showed up. A man can't live completely without friends but he thinks he would have given it a good try. )

I am not stubborn! Take it back. [ Now she’s pouting a little, but only in jest.

It’s true enough; Daphne is nothing if not full of perseverance, and if it wasn’t her natural charisma that made him want to befriend her, she would have just had to doggedly pester him until it worked. It seems to be.

He needed a friend. She wants to be his friend.

Daphne pats the place across from her in invitation. ]

I would hazard you are not one to be moved unless you wish to be, Mr Barnes.

( Daphne is a duchess. She'd told him she was married and that was her title and he's so far below that he might as well be an ant. Still, she pats the place beside her and it looks so, so inviting. Then she says he's not someone to be moved unless he wants to be.

She's not wrong. He, too, is impossibly stubborn and always has been (even if Steve beats him for that tenfold) and the thing he's most stubborn about is his lack of self-worth when it comes to being around people who haven't been touched by war or tragedy. He has blood on his hands. He shouldn't be in the same room as Daphne but she's here anyway.

So he moves. He sits across from her and suddenly feels like he's even bigger in this small, small space than he already is. )

Well, I only moved because you sold me on the coziness of this. Not at all because I wanted to sit closer to you.

[ Daphne doesn’t care about titles. In Folkmore, she’s learned they’re only words. Wind. Actions speak louder. Still, it is hard to unlearn everything else. The mannerisms, the innate repression. How is she to shed that, when it’s all she’s ever really known?

If she were one to scoff, she would now. In lieu, she smiles indulgently, pleased that he’s chosen to acquiesce to her. ]

Of course.

[ Her eyes slide back to the hearth, quiet but close to content. It’s a while before she speaks again, picking her words with care. ]

I feel safe with you.

( When he speaks, it's soft and low. )

You shouldn't. There's things...there's things I've done that can't be forgiven, Daphne. If I told you, you would probably hate me for it and there's nothing I can do about that. I would never hurt you, you don't have to worry about that, but I'm not a safe person.

( It's a lot to say but here next to the fireplace with the rain pouring down, it feels safer to admit those things than it would any other time. )

[ She takes it in. She listens.

She doesn’t doubt that—she knows war is awful, that it takes and takes. She’s heard stories, ones no lady should ever hear, eavesdropping on her father and later her brothers. War is not kind. War is brutal, cold, senseless. She knows that, though she’s never lived it.

Bucky is not those things.

A lapse of silence, just their breathing to break it, before she reaches to place a hand on his. Flesh over metal. Steadily, she says: ]

I forgive you, James.

( She forgives him. Daphne doesn't even know half of what he did and he's not sure that he could tell her if he even tried but she forgives him. She says it in a way that doesn't brook an argument either, the sort of quiet acceptance that he thinks he's never really had before. )

I need to tell you something else. It's not...that but it's related to it. When I first got here, there were people who already knew my past before I even got a chance to share it with them. One of them was a woman and she said my past didn't matter, you know? Told me I was a good person, went out of her way to tell me she was attracted to me. I finally get up the nerve to actually do something about it and it turns out that while she was telling me that, she was interested in someone else. Someone not like me. She was willing to sleep with me but I wasn't worth the rest, you know? And I think it's because she knew. She knew everything I did in my past.

So you tell me that you forgive me but you don't know everything you're forgiving me for, you know? It might change your mind.

[ Daphne doesn’t know this woman, as far as she’s aware, so she cannot be sure that’s why things didn’t work out between them. But she’s quite sure that’s not what he needs to hear now either. She’s done something similar herself. Led a prince on our of sheer jealousy, when who she really wanted was Simon. ]

She wasn’t honest, but you can’t assume it’s your doing. It isn’t your fault if someone lies to you.

No, it's not. Just like it's not your fault that I can't trust what people tell me. So I trust you, Daphne, when you say that you forgive me.

( Bucky is quiet for a moment and then he covers her hand with his right so he can feel the softness of her skin. )

You still probably shouldn't trust me, though. I want to do stuff with you that you shouldn't be wanting to do with married duchesses. I think to myself - well, he's not here and we have no idea if he'll ever be here - and you shouldn't do that. I just thought I ought to tell you.

[ Daphne didn’t even piece together what ‘sleep with me’ meant; she’s thoroughly unprepared for what he follows with, though her body is anything but.

Warmth spreads across her lower belly, working its way down to between her thighs. A similar warmth blooms in her face.

When she speaks, it’s breathy, but not repudiation. Her hand has not budged. ]

What... stuff? [ Humor her. ]

( Bucky huffs lightly and shakes his head. She hasn't pulled away and her cheeks look a little warm but it could be from the fire. )

I shouldn't be thinking about going to bed with someone else's wife but I think about it almost all the time when I'm with you, Daphne. I'm not going to drag you off or anything - I'm not and have never been that kind of guy - but I think about it from time to time.

( All the time. )

[ Oh.

She will be requiring a moment to let that sink in, stomach lodged in her throat. She doesn’t entirely know what he could mean by going to bed with, but she’s gleaned it is the very thing her mother and Simon spoke of, without ever properly telling her.

She can’t manage to make her voice much louder than a whisper, and her hand is clammy between the two of his. ]

Are you thinking of it now?

Hard not to be, considering you're not wearing anything but my shirt. I was just trying to be a gentleman about it so you wouldn't slap me into next month.

( He draws her hand up and kisses the inside of her wrist. )

What are you thinking about?

[ A breath punches out of her the second lips meet skin, an unmistakable noise, and one that humbles her thoroughly. That particular spot is sensitive. Shame ripens in her chest, but want is climbing higher and higher, overtaking it.

After an internal struggle, a decision is reached. ]

I’m thinking...

[ She’s thought too much as it is. Suddenly, impulsively, she closes the space between them to press her lips to his. ]

Edited 2024-12-03 09:00 (UTC)

( Bucky doesn't know if he should have expected the kiss or not but once she's kissing him, all the concerns he had about her being married and him being a bad person seem to melt away. He works his hands into her still-damp hair and slants his mouth over hers. She might have made the first move but he isn't someone who is passive about anything - not anymore - and he prefers to be the one in control of where things are going. )

[ That suits Daphne just fine. She isn’t particularly passive either, for all she might subscribe to some traditional aspects. That said, she has very little experience when it comes to kissing, having just the two under her belt, and she’s learning she quite enjoys a man that takes charge. She melts into his grip; he can fully guide her. She leans into the fact he knows what he’s doing here, and into him, opening her mouth under the persistence of his. ]

( Bucky hasn't kissed anyone since '45 but he thinks this would be among his best kisses anyway. He manages a little while before he has to break away and just pull her into his lap before he can go any further. )

If you want to stop, you need to let me know, because I don't want to stop at all.

[ She wouldn’t know if he had kissed somebody the day before, but she thinks not. If feels as if he saved this for her.

The longer they kiss, the more heat flares in her. She’s panting when he deposits her into his lap, as if she weighs no more than a feather. That alone, and the heat of him and his strong arms around her turns her on even more. She gasps for breath, heart pounding already, the implications of what he says stirring a moral dilemma. She shoves it away, deep down.

She wants this. Why should she be denied it, even here?

Her fingers cup his jaw, lifting it, and she presses her mouth again to his, parting only a few millimeters. ]

I don’t want you to stop.

rain meme for marriageable

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