summary: You've just bought yourself a new dress on the Once-ler's dime—the least you can do is model it for him. // A quiet snow day is a day spent with your lover, devoting yourself to him and treasuring each second you get to have him all to yourself, just like a good little wife should.
word count: 1,420
warnings: traditional gender roles and suggestive content.
author's note: I've been tinkering with some original character development for the Once-ler for about a year or so, because the canon version of him in the Lorax film just wasn't doing it for me. I think I've managed to capture him in a light that I prefer and developed his character, writing him much differently than as depicted in the popular 2012 film. I believe my interpretation stays a little truer to the 1972 version, with my own personal spin, and contains multiple aspects of this earlier depiction.
That being said, If you are looking to read a fic about the 2012 canon-compliant Once-ler, you won't find that here. This is my version and an entirely different interpretation of the character; I hope you enjoy.
The Once-ler reclined in his favorite armchair, the rich, supple leather creaking comfortingly as he sank into its familiar embrace with a hand on his stomach, full from the delicious dinner you prepared and had waiting for him when he had returned from work for the day.
His imposing frame filled the seat; at well over six feet tall and nearly 300 pounds, he was a mountain of a man.
The living room was bathed in a warm, amber glow from the crackling fire in the hearth, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls. Outside, the snowstorm howled with unrelenting fury, the wind rattling the frosted windowpanes and obscuring the night in a swirling veil of white.
Inside, all was tranquil and serene.
The Once-ler reached for his whiskey, the cut crystal tumbler glinting in the firelight. The ice cubes clinked gently as he lifted the glass to his lips and took a savoring sip, relishing the smooth burn as the aged liquor rolled across his tongue and warmed him from within. Tendrils of fragrant cigar smoke curled lazily overhead, the heady aroma mingling with the scent of aged hardwood and old books.
Soft jazz music played on the vintage record player, the soulful notes of the saxophone a perfect complement to the soothing crackle of the fire and the muffled din of the blizzard outside.
He gazed out at the whiteout conditions, watching the snowflakes swirl and dance on the wind, and felt a deep sense of peace wash over him.
When you came into the room, he gazed adoringly, drinking in the sight of you, a vision of loveliness, and it was clear that you had dressed up just for him, since there was no hope of going out anywhere in such conditions.
The dress you wore was exquisite - a short, form-fitting number in a delicate cream color that hugged your curves in all the right places.
The hem barely grazed your mid-thigh, showcasing your long, shapely legs. A flirty ruffle of lace trimmed the low-cut neckline, drawing the eye to the graceful curve of your neck and collarbone. The fabric of the dress was strewn with tiny red hearts, a playful nod to the upcoming Valentine's Day holiday, but it was still almost a month away.
The festive print made you look sweet and flirtatious, the perfect combination to make his pulse race.
He couldn't take his eyes off you as you twirled lightly, the skirt of the dress flaring out to give him an enticing glimpse of more bare skin.
His heart swelled with love and desire, overcome with the need to take you in his arms and show her just how irresistible you were to him.
He produced a thick cigar from his breast pocket and with a deft flick of his antique silver lighter, he set the end aglow and took a long, indulgent drag, pungent blue-gray smoke billowing from his nostrils.
His deep-set, obsidian eyes followed the petite figure of his woman as you flitted around the room with exaggerated, coquettish movements, putting on a show just for him. The fabric of the angelic dress molded to your every dainty curve and contour, the flouncy skirt swishing around your thighs with every coy twirl and spin.
Playful giggles bubbled from her glossy lips as she basked in the heat of his intense, smoldering gaze, clearly relishing the effect her titillating performance was having on him.
The Once-ler took another long, slow drag from his cigar, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, thoroughly enjoying the tantalizing performance of his sweet little plaything.
“So, what do you think?” you asked, hands placed delicately on your hips as you posed the question to him, “was it a wise purchase?”
The Once-ler considered his answer carefully, the hint of a pleased smile still apparent on his ruddy face as his dark eyes raked over you, “Of all the things you’ve spent my money on, darling, this is one of my favorites.”
Another bout of bubbly laughter erupted from you as you crossed the room to him, stopping to cup one of his large hands between the two of yours, little fingers tenderly caressing his knuckles, “I will consider that a win. You know I like dressing nicely for you.”
The Once-ler hummed thoughtfully at that, “I know you do, little darling,” his gruff voice was indicative of the many years he’d spent as a smoker, “and might I say…you look gorgeous in that dress.”
Knowing you had pleased him filled you with an overwhelming sense of relief.
This type of attire was not one you were very familiar or comfortable with, but his approval boosted your confidence and roused a certain sense of safety within you, reassuring you that you’d made the proper choice.
He lifted his hand from your grasp and laid his palm against your cheek, thumb stroking the curve of your flesh and the creases of your smile, “then again, you always look gorgeous for me, sweetheart.”
A soft, pink blush appeared on your cheeks as he complimented you and you had to pull away out of concern for your ability to mask your emotion in front of him if he continued to utter sweet words of affirmation and appreciation to you.
His thick fingers on your face made you tingle and you couldn’t help but long to compare your littler hand to his, knowing how satisfying it would be to see the startling difference between your two sizes.
“Thank you,” you muttered, attempting to remain grateful as you moved towards the mantle where you retrieved a candle and brought it to him and, using his lighter, he lit it for you and you carried it back to set it down safely out of the way of anything flammable.
“Of course,” He admired you appreciatively from afar as you put the candle down, “though you may want to put on something warmer now, dear. There’s a bit more of a chill in the air than even I am comfortable with.”
Your eyes widened slightly, “oh, shall I turn up the heat?”
The Once-ler let out a rumbled chuckle and shook his head, raising one hand to stop you, “No need, darling. Go and make yourself comfortable, then come sit with me. Your body next to mine would be more than sufficient.”
You did as you were told and went to your shared bedroom, where you extracted yourself from the form-fitting dress you’d donned just to receive his approval and slipped into a silk nightgown he had picked out and surprised you with for Christmas.
Several quiet moments passed before you re-entered the living room and the Once-ler exhaled, a sigh of relief escaping him as you made your way to him, crossing the room to stand at his side while he adjusted his position before beckoning you onto his lap as he typically did at the end of every day.
You settled onto his thigh, careful not to crowd him, as he put one arm around your midsection and held you to him.
You could feel his heart beating, every breath he took pressing his chest more firmly against my back.
It was comforting being held in his arms, safe and warm in the glow of the fire while you and he watched the snow fall.
“Comfortable?”
His gentle questioning prompted an answer from you and you nodded lazily, head tilting back to connect with his shoulder as you cuddled into his warmth, “of course,” you whispered, “thank you.”
You reached down and took his hand, pulling his arm from around your waist to make it easier to hold onto him.
His cigar, hanging loosely between the fingers of his free hand, was lifted to his lips and he inhaled, holding his breath in for several seconds before letting out a plume of smoke past your shoulder.
As the two of you sat in silence, your petite frame perched on his thigh, his mind wandered back to the little slip of a dress you’d bought and tried on for the first time in front of him. You had looked like a perfect little jewel, his own polished, scarlet ruby which was more valuable to him than all the money in his billfold, his bank account and this year’s projected sales and income.
Money was something everyone needed, but him?
The only thing that the Once-ler needed more than cash was this lovely darling, right here on his lap.
For my first years working in the factory that created the Thneed, I must say that the Ler family is very intense among them! 😲
I'm glad that At-ler has approached me to help familiarize me with the style of this family
