Been a hot minute, won't lie. Anyway, general life update is I finished uni with my BA in professional writing/publishing, and creative writing sometime mid-2023; got a job soon after because unfortunately money is required to survive; and to start the year off with a bang, got a publishing internship, too. So things are looking back up. I've also very recently gotten my writing groove back and I am so, so, so, so, so incredibly glad to have the actual desire and motivation to write back. I was constantly thinking of things to write, but the second I tried to, they all just disappeared.
Anyway, I wanted to apologise. I know most of you have fallen off/stopped reading my stuff, and that's fine. I'm going to try and have a lot more updates this year, at least one a month, but life be hectic sometimes. I'm on Discord a lot, and on Tumblr still, so hit me up on either (DM for my Discord) if you just wanna chat. But, alas, here's an update. I can't believe it's been literal years since the last update for this one.
Bickslow had been trying to sleep, right up until someone kicked the edge of the lounger he'd been resting on by the pool. He hadn't even needed to think who had done it. He knew who it was.
He ripped the open book off his face, wincing in the sun and groaning. "What the fuck do you want?" Bickslow grumbled, raising a hand to shield his face.
Alexander smirked above him, a kind of pleased look on his face as he crossed his arms. "Mum wants to talk to you," he said.
Bickslow groaned again. The least his brother could've done was tell him something nice. It was never good when their mother sent Alexander to go find him. It usually ended with him getting in trouble for something. Right then though, Bickslow wasn't sure what he'd done to warrant his mother sending his brother to summon him.
Still, Bickslow knew better than to ignore those summons, even if a part of him really did just want to go and hide somewhere. The property was big enough. And if she asked him about it later, then he could simply say that he just hadn't seen his brother all day. And if that failed, then he could probably pull the Lucy card, too. Oh, sorry, Mum. I wanted to, but Lucy really, really wanted to go out somewhere right as I was on my way to see you.
That would totally work. He probably wouldn't be able to tell Lucy about it though. He didn't trust her to be on his side.
He marked the open book before he lost his page, tossing it down onto the lounger as he pulled himself up with a sigh. "Where is she then?" he asked. Bickslow didn't have the energy to spend thirty minutes searching for his mother. And Alexander enjoyed his role far too much to lie to him about where she was anyway. The sooner Bickslow received his punishment, whatever for, the better, as far as Alexander was concerned.
"In her study," Alexander answered. Bickslow sighed again, scratching his head as he slowly, slowly headed back towards the patio. "What did you even do anyway?" he asked quickly, turning after his brother.
"I have no fucking idea."
Alexander snorted, watching Bickslow head inside towards his doom, before glancing across to the other side of the pool where his wife and daughter were playing in the shallows of the pool, along with Lucy and Scarlett.
Inside, finally reaching his mother's study, Bickslow hesitated outside the open door before peeking his head through with a grimace.
"Lex said you wanted to see me?" he asked cautiously, only taking a few steps into the room.
Idelle looked up from the stack of papers in front of her. "Oh! Yes!" She rolled her eyes when her son continued to hover by the doorway, seemingly too scared to come any closer or even look up from the floor for more than a couple of seconds. "Oh, please. Will you just quit that? You're not in trouble." It was like she'd gone back in time to twenty years earlier.
Bickslow tried not to audibly sigh in relief. He was sure he did anyway, and he doubted he did a very good job of hiding it, either. His mother knew him better than anyone. But he still couldn't quite meet her eye, especially when he saw that grin like she was just so proud of the fact that she could still terrify him like that. Bickslow wasn't sure he liked that.
"Right. Uh, yeah. I knew that," he mumbled. He cleared his throat, and Idelle huffed, shuffling papers around on the desk for a second. "So, um… What was it you wanted then?"
"I just wanted to know if Lucy would still be here for the party," Idelle said.
"Party?" A wave of fear washed over him. "Oh. Oh. Fuck. That party."
"Mm-hmm. That party."
Bickslow furrowed his brow, rubbing the back of his arm. "Shit. I have no idea," he mumbled. It had completely slipped his mind. In hindsight, all the people he'd seen coming and going with tables and chairs all morning made a lot of sense. He was surprised Lucy hadn't asked about them though. "Maybe? I don't know. I should probably ask her…"
Idelle picked up a stack of paper, neatly arranging it and tucking it into a blue folder and into a desk drawer before standing and smoothing out the creases in the front of her blouse. "That might be helpful," she agreed. "And if she does stay, which of course she's more than welcome to, then I imagine she'll need something to wear as well. That should be easily sorted, though. But that reminds me." Idelle paused. "Do you have something to wear?"
"I'm like, eighty-two percent sure I do."
"Good, good," Idelle nodded. "And what about Scarlett?"
Bickslow grimaced, pointing as his mother sighed at him, already knowing his answer. "Not yet. But, I already know where to find her something."
"Well, might I suggest getting that sorted sooner rather than later?"
Bickslow nodded quickly, already backing put of the room. "Yep, yep. Got it."
"And Bickslow?" Idelle called out before he could get too far.
He stuck his head back around the corner. "Yeah?"
"You really should try and tone down the language," she told him. "You don't want Scarlett growing up with a bad example."
"What? She's like two months old. Like she cares what I say. And Dad called me a fucking idiot on like a daily basis, and I turned out fine."
"Really? Did you really?"
Bickslow gasped, just a little too forcefully. "Wow. Okay, wow. I'm going to walk away now before you say something really mean." Granted, Bickslow had never disagreed with his father calling him or his brother idiots when they were kids. He'd deserved it. His brother had deserved it, too, as much as Alexander disagreed. But Bickslow had grown up to be an excellent adult. He was responsible, and caring, and he was the most reliable person he knew. He was the best son any mother could wish for.
Or at least, that was what his mother was supposed to say.
"Mm-hmm, you do that," Idelle mumbled, shaking her head and already rifling through another folder on her desk.
"Sooo…"
Lucy tried not to snort at Bickslow as she left the bathroom behind her, turning off the light and finishing rubbing the moisturiser into her hands. "Sooo," she echoed, slowly climbing up onto the bed and over the Seith's lap.
It hadn't taken Lucy long to figure out that Bickslow's favourite time to talk to her about anything was once they'd turned in for the night, right between getting Scarlett down for the night after a bottle, and them going to bed themselves. Lucy didn't mind it all that much. Most of their nightly conversations had just been normal conversations, or Bickslow complaining about something, namely his brother, or deciding what they would do the next day. At least on the nights where Bickslow didn't fall asleep with his daughter in his arms still.
But Lucy had expected Bickslow to want to talk about something that night, mostly because he'd been quieter than usual for most of the afternoon. At one point, she'd found him in the library after dinner, and before she'd been able to ask him what he'd been up to, he'd apologised, come up with some excuse, and run out with the babies following after him. Lucy hadn't even seen him again until she'd given up and decided to just go read somewhere until she was tired. Granted, she'd also been hiding from Bickslow's mother, so the solitude and silence really hadn't been terrible.
Still, Lucy wasn't entirely interested in talking that much. So she did her best to mostly just ignore the worried and mildly confused look on Bickslow's face, separating his hands over his chest to guide them to her thighs and place gentle kisses around his mouth and jaw.
"O-Oh, u-uh, okay…" Bickslow murmured whenever his lips weren't occupied. "Hi, I guess?"
"Hi," Lucy giggled.
"Not that I'm, uh… complaining… or anything… But I, uh…"
"Uh-huh?"
Bickslow closed his eyes, holding back a moan as she kissed and sucked on his neck. If her goal had been to distract him, she'd done her job and Bickslow wasn't even sure he could be annoyed. It almost made ignoring her all afternoon worth it, if that was what he got out of it.
But the babies disagreed, because they always disagreed.
"Ask her, ask her," they echoed in his head. "You'll forget if you don't."
His memory wasn't that bad. He'd let Lucy have her way with him, mostly because he didn't have the energy for much else, and then he could tell her about their party.
"What is it, Bix?" Lucy murmured, a gentle nibble on his earlobe as her fingers ghosted up and down his sides.
"I, uh…"
"Tell her, Bickslow."
He squeezed his eyes shut right as Lucy pressed down with her hips. "When are you leaving?" he asked quickly with a grimace.
Lucy sat up quickly and Bickslow smothered his face with his hands and groaned. "Excuse me?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.
"That's not…" He sighed, groaning into his palms again. The babies cackled in his head. This is what I get for listening to you. "That came out wrong."
"You think?" She was sure she should've learnt her lesson by then; letting Bickslow talk never seemed to go well. And still, it seemed to be against her better judgement when she climbed back off his lap and grudgingly asked, "So what exactly were you trying to say?"
Bickslow looked up to the ceiling, tapping his fingers together. Honestly, he wasn't sure how to say it. He racked his brain for a few moments, all too aware of the raised eyebrow Lucy was aiming at him as she patiently waited for him to say something stupid again, except Bickslow still couldn't come up with something that just didn't sound horrible.
So instead he said something else, because his brain clearly wasn't going to cooperate with his mouth and better judgement. "You know what? It's not important. We can talk about it later." He sat himself up quickly and pulled Lucy the rest of the way to him, covering her body with his own as he rolled and pressed her into the mattress. "This is better."
Lucy snorted, pushing back on his chest with her hands and turning her head away as he started kissing down towards her collarbone. "Yeah, no. Nice try, mister." There was a small part of her that was tempted to just let it slide, especially since she could already feel her panties growing damp with Bickslow's cock pressing against her crotch. But she was better than that. Right? "Underwear is staying on until you tell me what's going on," she said.
Bickslow groaned on her shoulder, collapsing down on top of her with almost the rest of his weight and sighing dramatically into the pillow next to Lucy's head. He swore he could feel her roll her eyes.
"My family throw this weird ball every year for New Year's Eve," he finally began, rolling off of Lucy and propping himself up on his elbow. "It's just a bunch of old people getting drunk in fancy suits and gowns. Like, they invite all of their business partners, and some of the people who own shit in town. That sort of shit."
"I think I remember my parents going to a ball one year. They were gone for a few days," Lucy mumbled. "I made Aquarius watch the fireworks with me. She complained the entire time about being stuck with a brat like me."
It was a vague memory. The older Lucy got, the more her memories slipped away from her. She hadn't been very old at the time, maybe seven or eight, but she remembered her parents leaving, telling her it would just be a few days and that they'd be back before she'd blinked twice.
As a child, she'd always been used to her father leaving for trips. Every other week he'd been off on some kind of business adventure. For the most part, Lucy had gotten used to her father being so far away, at least a little bit. But it was when her mother went along with him that she struggled. Lucy had just never liked being left alone.
"It wouldn't surprise me if they'd been invited," Bickslow said. He sighed loudly, dragging a hand down his face. "Anyway, I'm, uh… I'm expected to go, obviously. And, you know, I don't know if you were ready to go home yet or—"
"Do you want me to?"
"I mean, honestly, no, but—"
"So… Say if I stay, at least until after New Year's," she murmured. Her eyes trailed down to her hand, dainty fingers tracing the ridges on Bickslow's chest. "I'd have to attend this ball, yes?" Although Lucy wasn't sure if there'd be any point in staying there if she only planned on hiding inside Bickslow's bedroom all night. No doubt Bickslow would be off showing his daughter off to everyone his parents talked to, so she wouldn't even be able to keep an eye on the baby while everyone was off drinking and dancing and be the good babysitter.
Bickslow tried not to squirm. "Well, yes."
"So I'd need to get a dress then."
"I'd buy you a dress, if you were worried about finding one."
"And shoes?"
"Well, yes."
Lucy hummed. Admittedly, Lucy wasn't sure why she found the idea of attending so appealing. She'd left that life behind years ago. But, Lucy had never minded those fancy gowns or the guest lists full of people she knew nothing about.
There'd been something so… satisfying about them. The way the clinking of crystal glasses would blend so perfectly into the soothing melodies of the string quartets. Or how neat and organised everything was beforehand, not a single salad fork out of place. Or how there had always been one perverted, rich, old man staring at her from across the room.
She'd liked some of attention. At least when she'd been older, even if she'd still been young at the time.
But maybe it would be fun to step back into those glass slippers and into that fancy gown again, just for one night; to once more be Lucy Heartfilia, Heiress to absolutely nothing.
"I suppose I could stay then," she mused, giving a small shrug into the pillow. "I mean, if you wanted me to. You haven't really said that you do yet."
"I'm pretty sure I have."
"Nope, I don't think you have."
Bickslow groaned. "You're going to make me actually say it, aren't you?" He thought he'd been obvious enough, but apparently not. And at the little nod and giggle Lucy gave him, he knew he had no choice in the matter. "Fine. Let it be known that I, Bickslow Redfarrow-Theroux, the most obvious person in the world, would like you to stay until you get utterly sick of me, my brother, or my parents."
"Just because you asked nicely."
"Excellent. Now, can we please get back to taking our clothes off?"
"Mmm, I'm pretty tired now. I think I might just go to sleep now," Lucy said, a playful glint in her eyes and a devilish smirk on her lips.
Bickslow could only blink, almost a little dumbfounded by her words. "Um, what?"
He couldn't process her response before Lucy quickly pressed a kiss to his lips, reached over him awkwardly and switched off the last lamp on the bedside table. "Good night!" she said cheerfully, and she flopped back down into the soft mattress, fluffing up the pillow under her head and leaving Bickslow still confused behind her.
The first stop the next morning was to the small boutique they'd passed on their previous trip into town. The sparkly gold dress that Lucy had pointed out for Scarlett before had been sold so the part of the trip dedicated to finding something for his daughter had been a little longer than Bickslow had anticipated. Nevertheless, with the help of the shopkeeper, Bickslow quickly settled on a silky, frilly emerald green dress, with silver stars etched into the bottom hem. Of course, they got the matching silver booties, and a little green bow to go with it as well.
Soon after though, with just a quick detour to a cute little cafe for coffee, Bickslow sat uncomfortably on a plush leather chair in another boutique surrounded by rows and rows of lavish gowns in every shade of the rainbow.
Lucy came out of the dressing room with what Bickslow thought was dress number seven. "What about this one?" she asked, twirling back and forth with a hand on her hip.
Each dress she'd come out in had been vastly different from the one before it. Silk, chiffon, strapless, sleeveless, sparkly, sequin-y, some with long sleeves, some with deep necklines, some with slits that left nothing to the imagination and some with so much fabric that if Bickslow hadn't already, somewhat, memorised just what Lucy's body looked like, he'd be confused as to where she ended and the gown began. And, for the most part, Bickslow had said the same thing for each dress she'd tried on: they all looked great on her, even the ones that he was sure were absolutely horrendous — at least if the cringes the storekeeper gave her every now and then as she went rummaging through the store were anything to go by.
But dress number seven? Bickslow was entirely positive Lucy was trying to send him to his grave.
"Why?" he asked, unashamedly raking his eyes down the length of her. What else was he supposed to do? Not look at her?
Lucy only gave him a small shrug and coy smile. "Just thought it looked pretty and I couldn't help myself." She'd waited until Bickslow had been too busy flicking through some kind of fashion magazine to sneak away to the bridal section to pick something in a clean, silky ivory. It had been a struggle to get it on (that much she wouldn't admit to Bickslow), and the store clerk had tucked and pushed her in so much that she was half convinced if she breathed too deeply the seams would rip open. But, even if just for a few minutes, Lucy had wanted to imagine what it would feel like to be in a wedding gown. And as she'd twirled for herself in the mirror before emerging from the dressing room curtains, Lucy had felt like a princess. The skirt flowed gently as she'd spun, the elegant lace details on the shoulders showing just the hint of a blush pink in the soft light. If she were to be married, Lucy didn't think she'd choose a dress like that anyway, but for just a bit of fun, it hadn't mattered too much what she'd chosen.
But, with Bickslow staring at her, seemingly lost in his own mind for a moment, Lucy lingered and savoured the feeling — she felt like royalty.
"Don't worry," she said after another moment, ignoring the blush on her cheeks as she turned back for the dressing room. "I think the next one will be the one, though."
Bickslow was glad to have Lucy disappear behind the curtain again. It took him until the time she was coming back out with dress number eight to come out of his stupor, but the second she stepped out, he felt like he'd been hit by one of his own family's trains head on. He sat back, eyes wide. "Wow," he thought, although Bickslow wasn't entirely sure he hadn't said it out loud.
"Right?" Lucy beamed, confirming his theory that he had, in fact, said it out loud. She did another half-spin as she stepped up onto the pedestal, admiring the fit in the large mirrors. The dress was a deep wine red, clinging to her like a comfortable second skin. The fabric gathered at her waist into an elegant knot, with a slit in the side up to her mid-thigh. At the top, fabric gathered around her upper arms loosely, the same as her waist, falling away from her shoulders with a gentle sweetheart neckline. "I take it you like this one?" she asked, turning back to face Bickslow who still sat dumbfounded.
His throat was dry and he knew the coffee beside him wouldn't do anything to help, so he could only swallow thickly and give quick nods.
Then, though, Lucy's smile faltered and she looked back to the mirror once more. "It's really expensive though," she said sadly. "It's the most expensive one of them all so far."
"That's fine," Bickslow managed to say. He'd buy her a dozen dresses if he had to. "If you like that one, get it."
"I do really like it."
"Great. Then it's yours. Now," Bickslow stood up from the leather chair to cross to where Lucy still stood on the pedestal, "let's hurry the fuck up, get everything else you want or need, so we can go the fuck home."
Lucy turned back to him once more with brows knit together and a frown on her lips. "What? What's wrong now?" She looked around the store, over to where the shoes and matching clutches were. She wasn't too fussed on accessories — any heels would do, if she was honest — but even then, Bickslow had gone from not being able to pick his jaw up from the ground to wanting to be done with the whole trip. "I can get one of the other ones, if it's too expensive, or—"
Bickslow was mindful of the shopkeeper's eyes on them, and another two women walking into the store as the bell on the door chimed. He grabbed Lucy's face between his hands to press a quick kiss to her forehead, only having to slightly lower his head for once. "Cosplayer," he whispered, "I told you I'll buy you the dress. But if you keep going like this, I'm gonna get arrested for public indecency and I really, really don't want that again."
"O-Oh." Lucy's eyes widened as a blush crept back up her neck and onto her cheeks, before confusion set back in and she leant back. "Wait, again?"
New Year's Eve came and by the early afternoon Bickslow had already heavily debated making himself impossible to find for the rest of the evening since putting on a suit when it was still in the mid-thirties and way too fucking humid outside was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. He'd told that plan to Lucy, about just disappearing to the beach instead, but she'd shot that idea down almost instantly, saying something about it being a waste to buy such a beautiful dress and not be able to wear it, or something. Then, he'd said she could just wear it to the beach, or sleep in it for all he cared, but even that idea Lucy hadn't been fond of. His next idea had been trying to keep his daughter up most of the day so he could just disappear upstairs, using putting her to bed and general parental duties as an excuse, but Lucy had only said that was unfair and Scarlett needed her nap because she was only small. That one Bickslow had more or less agreed with, but by the time it had come to dragging his clothes out of the wardrobe where he'd stowed them upon arriving to his family home, he really had hated ever listening to Lucy.
Sort of.
The grounds had been busy all day, with people coming and going as they set up for the evening and made their gardens as beautiful as they could ever be. Bickslow had watched them for a bit, pointing out to Scarlett all the gardeners and groundskeepers as they'd strung up little fairy lights everywhere. He'd taken her over to where a couple of the musicians for the quintet his mother had organised had been setting up too; the saxophone player, as Bickslow had quickly found out, had six children of his own and was a total baby fiend.
When it was time to get ready in the mid-afternoon, he got Scarlett ready first, getting her into the tiny little dress and little shoes. He'd had to have his mother help with the bow; hair was still a learning curve, given how fine the little hair she did have was since Lucy had all but locked herself in the bathroom to get ready. Afterwords, he got ready himself, already feeling sweat trickle down his back and on his brow by the time he'd gotten the dark grey suit on over the black silk shirt. His only hope was that the breeze kicked in as night fell.
Bickslow looked to the babies and then to his watch as he saw the first guests begin to arrive through his window. "Taking her time," he mumbled, looking down to Scarlett who only stared up at him with wide eyes as he added, "I hope you're not as bad as Cosplayer is when you're older."
Apparently it was a coo-worthy response.
"Oi, Lucy." Bickslow went and knocked on the bathroom door, pressing his ear closer to it. "You nearly ready? We gotta be down there soon."
"I'm nearly do—ow!"
Bickslow's brow creased, and he tried to make out the mumbling from within. "You good?" he asked.
"Yes!" Lucy called through the door. "Virgo's helping me get ready and the zip pinched me."
"Uh-huh…"
"I'll be down in a minute. I'll meet you downstairs, okay?"
Bickslow looked back to his watch. "I mean, if it's just a minute, I can just wait here for you and we can go down together," he suggested. What difference did it make?
"I didn't mean a literal minute." Bickslow was sure he heard her roll her eyes at him. "I'll be down soon," she insisted.
"Alright, alright…" he conceded. Bickslow knew when he'd lost, and the last thing he managed to overhear through the door was Lucy cursing at her spirit before he was out of earshot.
He found his father sitting at the bottom of the stairs, no doubt waiting for Bickslow's mother, too. He sat down next to him, gently handing his daughter over so she could get her favourite — only — grandfather's cuddles in for the evening. "Mum still getting ready?" he asked as his dad blew raspberries on Scarlett's cheeks.
"Of course she is," Felix said in a sing-song voice. "Lucy is too, I take it?"
"I guess so," Bickslow mumbled. He watched as another couple arrived and followed the path to the garden. From a distance, Bickslow couldn't tell if it was the chairman of the port authority or just another business owner from town. Most of them looked the same. But the house was, for the most part, off limits to all the guests, except for the main downstairs bathroom. His mother had liked hosting events, but she'd always been protective of her home — at least the inside.
The sound of heels on the stairs drew Bickslow's attention, and he looked over his shoulder to see Lucy gliding gracefully down, her dress trailing behind her on the stairs with each precise step to stop her from tumbling down into his lap. He got up quickly, straightening his jacket and feeling his throat go dry seeing Lucy in the dress once more. She'd been a sight to see in the store a few days earlier, but then, with the hair, makeup, and accessories to go with it, Bickslow wasn't entirely sure what to even say.
He held his hand out for Lucy as she reached the bottom steps. "You look incredible," he said softly. Lucy gave him a bright smile, and it was only then that as he watched Lucy take Scarlett from Felix and Bickslow realised they were just waiting for his mother, that he was also missing his sibling. "Lex already here?" he asked, looking to his father.
"Not yet," Felix shook his head. "He came by earlier to say he'd be late since Anya wasn't feeling too well this afternoon."
"Oh, I hope she's feeling okay," Lucy said worriedly. She'd grown fond of Anya.
"Do you think Mum will be much longer? I'm hungry," Bickslow announced, effectively putting an end of Lucy's worrying and instead having her aim a glare in his direction like his appetite was something he could reasonably control. "What? I am."
"Then you should've eaten lunch then," Idelle's voice echoed from the top of the stairs. All of them turned their gaze up to the top where she stood posed at the top of the grand staircase, her soft brown hair fell in an elegant wave over her shoulder, and her champagne gown glittered with the chandelier light. "Have our guests started to arrive yet?" she asked, looking to her husband.
Felix nodded. "A few," he said, and he mirrored his son's earlier actions, extending a hand for his wife and then pressing a gentle kiss to her hand as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "Beautiful, my love."
Suddenly, Lucy seemed to realise where Bickslow got his habits from.
Soon after Idelle made it down the stairs, they all joined the rest of the guests outside. First it was Lucy and Bickslow, then Idelle and Felix. Lucy had watched somewhat enamoured as Idelle formally greeted everyone; the way she commanded the small stage with the quintet and how everyone's eyes watched her intently and listened to every word she spoke like a prayer. Her dress glittered under the twinkling fairy lights and sunset, and Lucy could once more only wish she was as graceful and elegant as Idelle was one day. Then again, Lucy supposed that her could-have-been mother-in-law had had a lifetime of practice with public speaking and events. Lucy's had been cut short.
Bickslow sighed as the music started back up gently — a light, whimsical piece — and people went back to their mingling. "You ready?" he asked, raising Scarlett up slightly so she rested her head on his shoulder. For once, he hoped she'd throw up on him. Then he'd have an excuse to leave.
"Of course," Lucy answered. She wanted to reach for Bickslow's hand, or even his arm, but both of his hands were occupied. Instead she grasped at the champagne flute she'd snagged from a passing waitress and did her best to put on a brave face, suddenly feeling a hint of overwhelm, and remember all the training she'd received as a young girl — training to prepare her for moments like that.
So they waded slowly through the crowd, offering polite smiles and nods to people as they passed until a large gentleman with a neatly curled white moustache and balding head stopped right in their path. "Bickslow!" the man said with a great grin that spread to the wrinkles around his eyes. He went to shake Bickslow's hand, and instead just clasped Bickslow on the shoulder upon seeing his hands occupied. "It's been a while. Your dear old dad said you would be making it this year with a little surprise, and here you are!"
"Here I am," Bickslow laughed. Lucy looked between the two of them somewhat awkwardly until the man caught her own eye, seemingly reminding Bickslow that he had to actually introduce her. "Uncle Fredeck, this is Lucy, and my daughter, Scarlett," Bickslow introduced, nodding between them. "Lucy, Fredeck. He worked with Dad way back when he'd first moved here and had his cafe still."
"Not an uncle by blood," Fredeck clarified, and there was a twinkle in his eye as he said it. "But Felix and me have been thick as thieves for many a moon. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lucy," he leant in to gently grasp Scarlett's tiny hand, "and it's a pleasure to meet you, little one!"
"And yourself," Lucy said politely.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go harass your father about the catering choices. Come see me before you head back home, yes?"
Bickslow nodded. "I'll do my best."
"Good man."
He watched Fredeck squeeze past the other guests over to where his parents were speaking to a small group, and he couldn't help but let out another sigh with a small grimace. "He was the only person I actually liked at these parties," he mumbled.
"I'm sure there's some others who can hold good conversation," Lucy offered, trying to remain somewhat optimistic but Bickslow only scoffed at her.
"If by good conversation you mean talking about nothing but businesses and mistresses, usually in the same sentence, then sure."
"Surely that's not all these people talk about."
"You'd be surprised.
Lucy still doubted it, and as she drank her champagne, all she could picture were her own parents standing right in her place having the exact conversation Bickslow had told her would occur. She hated it. But she didn't get much more time to think on it before Bickslow announced they had more people to greet, lest he face the wrath of his mother for not being sociable and upholding her name, so Lucy followed him over to a couple by the fountain in the middle of the courtyard.
Lucy could only smile politely as Bickslow shuffled his daughter to shake the man's hand, then the woman's beside him. They couldn't have been much older than Bickslow's parents but there was something about them that gave off an air superiority — maybe it was how stiff they seemed — and made Lucy want to squirm under their gaze.
"Ulrick. Rhea," Bickslow greeted the couple. "Great to see you again. My family is delighted to have you here, as usual."
"Of course," Rhea said. Her mouth seemed to twist in a way that was meant to resemble a smile, but Lucy wasn't quite sure it worked out. "We have an obligation to be here."
Bickslow coughed into his hand and glanced towards Lucy nervously. "Yes, well… Anyway. This is Lucy — Lucy Heartfilia," he said, gesturing towards her. "And Scar—"
"Heartfilia?" Ulrick said, an eyebrow raised. His piercing blue gaze was on Lucy then, his attention fixed to a point that he missed Bickslow's almost smug, prideful grin. "Are you a relative of the late Jude Heartfilia?"
"U-Uh, yes. Yes, he was my father," Lucy answered. The man may not have noticed the look on Bickslow's face, but Lucy did. "Pleasure to meet you."
The man gave a short huff, shared a quick glance with his wife, then turned his attention back to Bickslow with a slight head tilt. "I wasn't aware the Heartfilias were still operating? Your father and Alexander never mentioned it at the most recent board meeting."
Bickslow shrugged. "Wouldn't know, to be honest. You probably know more about the family business than I do!" Bickslow laughed. "Anyway, I'm sure you'll have a chance to discuss it at the next meeting, yeah? Gotta run, though — have important people to talk to and all that. I'm sure you understand." He patted Ulrick on the shoulder and quickly darted off past him. It took Lucy a moment to catch up, mostly as she'd been too stunned to really process what had happened. Rhea had stared at her like she'd grown a second head and she was sure she'd heard the woman gasp before she'd left them behind.
By the time she had caught back up to Bickslow though, he'd been grinning ear to ear and chuckling to himself. "Um… Do you want to explain that?" Lucy asked, trying to contain her own giggles and avoid the contagion.
"His name's Ulrick Junelle. Dude's a massive dick and has an ego the size of the continent. Rhea's just an outright bitch. I'm not entirely sure who's worse between them," Bickslow explained. He smiled and gave a small nod to a young couple as they passed before continuing, "They've been trying to buy out the company since I was a kid, but, y'know, Mum'll sooner die than sell it off. The fucks managed to make it onto the board though like they think they'll be able to take it out from under us or something."
"Right…" Lucy mumbled. "And… And my name? Like, did they need to know that?"
Bickslow's head snapped to her and his grin was instantly wiped off his face and replaced with concern. "Fuck. I didn't even ask if that—I'm sorry. I think I just—"
"Bix, it's fine," she said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "Just a little bit of warning would've been nice."
"I forgot to ask, honestly. I just… I don't know. I can leave it out if you want." He'd left the babies out of their bodies with so many people around but they were still in his head telling him how much of a moron he'd been for throwing Lucy right in front of a train like that. All he'd cared about was making the Junelles squirm like they did to everyone else. And for a second it had felt great just to have Ulrick's predatory business drive falter before his very eyes, even if it had all just been a ruse. But that brief moment of joy meant nothing if it only made Lucy uncomfortable.
Lucy shrugged. "I don't think it bothers me either way. It was just unexpected," she said. "Besides, I'm proud of who I am — my name."
"You should be."
Lucy didn't doubt there would be others who recognised her name. Even amidst the sea of people, there were faces that Lucy felt she'd seen before; whether they were just the type that had familiar looking faces or ones that had met with her parents when she'd been young, Lucy didn't know. But, she couldn't deny the small sense of pride that had welled within her when Bickslow had said her name. There she was, former heiress to one of the largest companies in Fiore. She may not have inherited the fortunes she expected as a child, but she at least kept her name and Lucy wasn't sure there was any other fortune that mattered those days. She was sure her father would be proud of her, though. Her mother, too.
The next time Bickslow introduced her, she'd been Lucy Heartfilia, and she'd not been able to contain her pride then, showing it in a bright smile.
But then, the next introduction had been different.
"Bickslow, is that you? It's so good to see you," an elderly woman said, catching Bickslow off guard as he shovelled tiny cheese cubes on sticks into his mouth.
"Mrs. Havish, hi!" he croaked out. "This is, uh—this is my wife, Lucy, and this is Scarlett."
"Wife?" Pippi giggled.
The woman grabbed Lucy's hands, clasping them warmly between icy cold hands. "Hello, dear. Call me Harriet."
"Lovely to meet you, Harriet," Lucy nodded her head gracefully. She wanted to elbow Bickslow in the stomach and ask what the fuck he was doing, but that wouldn't have been civil or polite and her parents and all their servants had taught her better.
"What a precious family," Harriet said. "I'm sure your mother must be so pleased to have another beautiful grandbaby."
"Mm-hmm, absolutely. You hear Lex is having another, too?" Bickslow said. Lucy couldn't quite tell if the old woman was another one of the few people Bickslow enjoyed talking to.
"I did, indeed. He must be proud, too. And their little one must be excited to have a new sibling, too."
"I'm sure they both are," Bickslow said, nodding. He looked around the garden, craning his neck to see over people. "Where's George at? He here?"
Harriet clicked her tongue and shook her head. "He's run off again. I best go find him before he falls into the fountain again," she muttered, already hobbling off. "You take care now."
As soon as she was gone, Lucy had wound her arm tightly through Bickslow's, even despite him holding Scarlett up still, and she gave him a tight smile. "Wife?" she questioned. She thought she'd seen a blush creep up past the collar of Bickslow's shirt onto his cheeks, but it could've been the alcohol he'd been drinking slowly all evening or even sunburn, but he returned the smile, albeit a bit more awkwardly, and refused to look back down to her.
"She's old-fashioned. No children out of wedlock thing, you know," he said.
"Mm-hmm, of course," Lucy mumbled. She wanted to point out it had been the first time he'd introduced her as anything in particular at all. No one so far had questioned just who she was to Bickslow; she was half sure that if Bickslow hadn't introduced her at all and just let her stand by his side awkwardly, no one would've really cared either. But then Scarlett had started to fuss, just the beginnings of a whimper, and Lucy's attention quickly fell elsewhere. "She's getting tired. Here, I'll take her up."
Bickslow shook his head, thankful for the immediate reprieve from any more explaining for his slip of the tongue. "It's fine, I can do it. You go… I don't know, mingle, or something."
"Bix, give her to me. I am the babysitter, after all."
"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"
"No. Now, hand her over," Lucy insisted again, holding her hands out for the infant. And so Bickslow did, reluctantly and carefully pass her to Lucy, and he grimaced as his daughter fussed and began to cry as he settled her into Lucy's arms. He hated letting her go, even if he trusted Lucy with her — probably more than he trusted himself.
Bickslow didn't really care to talk to people until Lucy was back so he went and searched out the bar to make the rest of the evening a bit more tolerable.
Upstairs, Lucy took her time putting Scarlett to bed, playing with her tiny little toes and fingers and humming nursery rhymes that she already knew made Scarlett smile. Lucy relished the silence inside, even if it was just for a few moments. She'd been excited about experiencing that world again — the fancy dresses, and the rich, snobby businessmen and women, and the expectation to uphold herself in a way that was so superior to everyone and everything else at all times — but even after just a couple of hours at most, Lucy was exhausted and overwhelmed. Bickslow at her side had kept her from spiralling too much, and so had distracting herself with Scarlett, but once Scarlett had fallen asleep in her crib, Lucy couldn't help but notice how fast and heavy her breathing had been. The thought that balancing high society and motherhood like she was that very night would be what she'd be doing had things gone differently, had she married Bickslow all those years ago, couldn't get out of the back of her mind.
She didn't want to bail on Bickslow, though. Could she even tell him it was just too much? That she'd been wrong and she should've just gone back home to Magnolia already? She was sure he'd understand if she did, but even then, Lucy didn't entirely want to just leave go home, either.
Lucy gave herself a few more moments upstairs to steady herself before she went back downstairs, checking her dress, her hair, her makeup for last minute fixes. There were positives to that world, she told herself. Like the Junelles, squirming just from hearing she still existed. The open doors to the courtyard were in sight and Lucy made slow, steady steps towards them until Idelle had stepped in front of her with a kind smile. "How are you enjoying yourself tonight, Lucy?" Idelle asked, guiding Lucy over to a small padded bench in the hall.
"I'm having fun," Lucy answered. She couldn't tell Idelle that she was resisting the urge to just go and hide in a closet somewhere until everyone had left. "It's been nice to come back to this kind of life and experience parties and events like this, even just for a night, you know?"
Idelle could only smile at her again before she moved what she'd been holding in her lap and showed it to Lucy who quickly realised it was a photograph. "I thought you might want to have this."
"Is that…?" Lucy's eyes pricked with tears as she stared at the small group in the photo. Felix and Idelle stood side by side in front of the fountain in the garden. Beside them, Lucy's parents. They were years younger, but the image of her mother at least was the exact sameas Lucy remembered her: youthful, radiant, beautiful.
"That was the last time I saw your mother before she passed," Idelle said softly. There was a hint of sorrow to her voice that Lucy hadn't quite expected. "It's been sitting in my office ever since. We were close, you know. She was my best friend, even."
"I had no idea," Lucy whispered. The first tear rolled down her cheek and Lucy did her best to hold back the sob caught in her throat. She knew their families had known each other — she'd met Bickslow's father as a child, and she remembered her parents going to parties at that time of year — but to know for certain that she'd stood right where her mother had once stood, Lucy just couldn't stop the tears then. "I'm sorry, I—" She couldn't finish her sentence before the sobs finally escaped, and she ducked her head to hide in her palm.
Idelle wrapped her arms around Lucy's shoulders and pulled her in. "Oh, darling, I'm sorry," she offered soothingly, rubbing Lucy's arm. She hadn't meant to make her cry; Bickslow would yell at her if he found out. But all evening, Idelle had only seen her best friend whenever she looked at Lucy and it had felt like going back in time thirty years. "It's okay."
"I miss her so much," Lucy cried. There were times she didn't, at least not as much. But there was always a twinge of pain when she thought of her mother, or how her mother would feel about the life she'd made for herself or the choices she'd made. She liked to tell herself that Layla would be proud of her, but sometimes, Lucy wasn't sure. Sometimes, too, all Lucy wanted was to have her mother hug her and tell her everything would be okay. Maybe, for right then, Idelle could fill that void.
"I know you do."
Idelle held her until she stopped crying, and waited until Lucy had freshened up again before they made their way back outside to the party together. Idelle squeezed her arm reassuringly and offered one last smile before she excused herself to go back to her guests. Bickslow arrived as Idelle left, and his face was an instant mask of concern as he glanced between his mother and Lucy. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked softly, one hand on her arm and the other cupping her cheek. "What happened? She didn't say something awful again, did she?"
Lucy shook her head. "No, no. She didn't. I'm fine, though. We were just, uh… We were talking about my parents, and…"
"Oh. I'm sorry, Lucy. Do you want to just call it? We can leave, if you want."
"I'll be alright."
Bickslow was hesitant to believe her, but he wasn't going to sit there asking if she was fine over and over again. He'd just have to trust her. "Well, if you change your mind, just let me know, alright?" he said then, and when Lucy nodded he pressed a soft kiss to her head. "Scout was okay, though?"
"She was good," Lucy said.
He'd sent the babies up after her so if she woke then he'd at least know. But if Lucy was okay, and the kid was okay, then Bickslow had no choice but to drag Lucy back into the fray. So he held his arm out for her, and off they went.
Each introduction was different again. Lucy. Lucy Heartfilia. Wife. Girlfriend. Partner. Friend. At some point, Lucy stopped listening entirely; she wasn't sure if it was intentional or if Bickslow was doing it to throw people off. What even was she to Bickslow? What was Bickslow to her? She'd thought about it before, briefly, ultimately deciding that it didn't really matter much since they were just having fun and getting along and that was all that mattered. But the more Bickslow put names to it, the more Lucy wanted to know which one she was — which one Bickslow wanted her to be.
"What are we?" she asked, catching Bickslow off guard completely as they had a reprieve in their mingling and just enjoyed the twinkling lights and shining stars and gentle music for just a moment.
Bickslow could only laugh nervously, pulling at the collar of his shirt. "Uh, what? You're asking this now?"
"You seem to be telling everyone we talk to something entirely different each time, so I'm just curious."
"It doesn't—" Bickslow shook his head, looking around for anyone passing by too close and only eyeing his mother waving him over. I'll have to deal with that. "Would you prefer 'fuck-buddy'?"
"Is that what I am?" Lucy asked pointedly.
"No, and I know that you know that, too. But can we have this—" he paused to give a curt nod to a passing couple, "—conversation later? You know, when we're not surrounded by people?" It wasn't that he didn't want to figure out the answer, because he did. He'd mostly just been avoiding it as long as he could, but Lucy asking meant it could no longer be avoided. Not entirely, at least.
Lucy shrugged. It was a fair request. "Yeah, of course."
Bickslow caught the way she refused to look to him again, and part of him wanted to just say fuck it and have the conversation right there and then (what was the worst that could happen), but his mother was waving him over again, no doubt to go and talk to someone he hadn't seen in years or something stupid like that. "Great," he said, just a little too sarcastically for his liking and he was sure he'd pay for it later. "Now, are you going to be good on your own for a little bit? I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise, but if I don't go do whatever it is Mum needs to me do, I'll never hear the end of it."
Lucy tried to ignore the panic that rose within her, finding the rapid rising of her chest just a bit more difficult to hide. Of course he'd leave her to fend for herself. Granted, she didn't entirely blame him for that, either. He had a duty, at least somewhat. "I'll manage." It wasn't like she had much choice. She could put on a smile and do small-talk on her own. She was a Heartfilia, as Bickslow had so gracefully introduced her. On her own, she didn't have to worry about what they were. Probably.
He hesitated a moment again, watching just to see if Lucy would change her mind or show any sign of not wanting to be on her own, but once more she remained stoic and cold and Bickslow had no choice but to rush off to see what his mother wanted. On her own, Lucy only walked slowly between people, sipping idly on drinks she snagged from passing staff and occasionally the hor d'oeuvres if they looked appetising enough. She got flagged down by Fredeck again, and he'd been nice enough to speak to until he'd asked if the rumour supposedly spreading throughout the guests at the party about her being a Heartfilia had been true.
And then after that, Lucy couldn't help but notice each person she spoke to or locked eyes with had something to say about her. Whether it was with a glare (the Junelles, mostly), or hushed whispers and pointing that was so obvious, or with people coming up to her and asking if it was true and if it meant the Heartfilia Konzern was returning and what her presence there meant. And the latter seemed to bring mixed reactions, even though Lucy never gave an answer because there just wasn't one she could provide. But some asked with hopeful, wide eyes. Some asked with resentment. And the more Lucy wandered and mingled, the more that sense of overwhelm and fear faded, and pride in herself and just her name returned. Was that how her mother had felt? Her father, even? To have a name so recognisable, that even the memory of an empire so large would have people cowering or wishing for an encore.
It was, ultimately, the feeling she'd been most excited for, when Bickslow had first told her about the party. That feeling of everyone's eyes on her — being the complete centre of attention, whether she wanted it or not.
Bickslow was busy mingling with a small group across the garden, but he looked over to Lucy's direction at the right time, and they locked eyes for just a moment. She stared for a moment before smiling, and Bickslow couldn't help tilt his head slightly in confusion. She'd gone from being irritated at him, to… something he couldn't quite tell. But she shone like the sun, even with a sea of people between them, and eventually Bickslow figured out what it was he was seeing for the first time all evening: confidence.