#gideons gorgeous big gold eyes
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the very insecure dr reid ; spencer reid
pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader
summary: “Could you write another fic about early Spence where he’s all insecure” combined with another request :) 5730 words
a/n: title taken from s1e5!! i wrote this months ago aka before i decided to try to make my fics gender neutral and i tried to make the appropriate changes but im also a dumbass so! yeah!
masterlist
Spencer is a man of science, if you didn’t already know.
This means he doesn’t spend his time fretting over what isn’t there, what doesn’t have facts and evidence to back it up. Of course, he dabbles in reading conspiracy theories and enjoys learning about various religions and things of that sort, but these are to expand his already infinite knowledge, not because he particularly believes in them.
The first time he believed there was some kind of God was when you kissed him.
It was after the case where both Elle and Spencer were trapped on a train with a paranoid schizophrenic – he still remembers how you reacted when he agreed to being sent in, how you tried to keep it light-hearted but pulled him aside to solemnly tell him you didn’t think you’d be able to live without him (if you do something rash and stupid, Spencer, I swear to God-). You threatened to nipple cripple him if he did die, and it was weirdly motivating.
After he was checked over, and teased Elle about saving her life, you came crashing into him with an audible oof and a whisper of, “God you smell so good I’m so glad you’re okay don’t ever do that again.” It was probably the adrenaline, the near-death experience high, but instead of gently pushing you away like he’d do with anyone else, he discovers your waist has a wonderful dip that his arms fit perfectly into as he tugs you close.
He’s hugged people before, obviously, but it’s always different with you.
You must think so, too, because when you pull away just enough that you’re still in his arms but can clearly see his face, you take a minuscule intake of breath that Spencer wouldn’t notice if he wasn’t, you know, Spencer.
A strand of Spencer’s hair falls from where it was tucked, falling into his line of sight. Without hesitation you’re pushing it back, fingertips brushing against Spencer’s cheek as you fold the hair back behind his ear. Your eyes meet when there’s no obstruction, electricity crackling in Spencer’s ears when he realises there’s nothing between you, nothing stopping you, and there’s something about the lack of space between you and how he holds you that just makes you ask-
“Would it be weird if I kissed you right now?”
Immediately, Spencer thinks yes. Not because he doesn’t want you to (he couldn’t think of anything better to do, to be honest), or because of where you are (although, knowing the whole team is not far away does make him feel a little funny), it’s because he’s him. Gangly, awkward, with very sweaty hands that feel at home on your body, and you don’t want to kiss that. You can’t want to.
Yet, he shakes his head, and finds himself copying you when you lean in and close your eyes.
It’s short, sweet, and somewhat weird. He thinks he blacks out, loses himself in your lips despite it happening so quickly.
When you pull back, Spencer’s eyes remain closed for a good few seconds before he’s brought back to Earth. And he doesn’t know what to say - pretty people don’t just… kiss him. They certainly don’t ask if they can kiss him, then follow through, and… stare at him like that.
“Has anyone seen Reid? Y/L/N?”
Whatever was supposed to happen after, whether it was good or bad, you’ll never know. Hotch’s footsteps are thundering towards you and, despite your daze, you step away from Spencer just as he spots you.
The second time he believed there was a God, he asked you on a date. And you said yes.
Neither of you mention the kiss. In your defence, he supposes, it happened merely an hour ago – everyone’s rushing to get back to Quantico so no one’s had time to make any kind of small talk, let alone have the talk after a kiss.
Elle gives Spencer a look of confusion when she slides past him, moving into the jet as he hovers in the entryway. He’s obviously waiting for someone, passing out tight lipped smiles to the team when they all squeeze past. Spencer isn’t a big guy, but it’s bizarre for him to be standing there like that, swaying like the palm tree he is – he’s usually setting up for yet another game of chess with Gideon at this moment.
Then you shuffle on, faltering when you catch him waiting for you but smile nonetheless. He straightens, hands remaining in his pockets when his mouth opens to speak. You interrupt him (before he can make a fool of himself, thank God).
“Wanna sit together?” You ask, eyes never leaving his. He nods and follows you like the lost puppy he is.
The second you invite him to sit next to you instead of opposite he wants to pull you tight into his side, but that seems like too much. He’s not Derek, for Heaven’s sake, and you’re not Garcia – all you’ve done is kiss once and really, when he thinks about it, you were probably on an adrenaline high too, so it might’ve been a heat of the moment thing. It happens, Spencer’s read about it, and although it would break his heart that it meant nothing, it’s likely. Oh, it’s so likely.
Spencer might be the first one on the team to cry on the BAU jet.
Halfway home, the team is lost in their own pass-times to notice when you bookmark your page and place your book on the table.
“Spence,” You whisper, testing if he’s awake.
He is. He hasn’t been able to catch a wink of sleep, no matter how hard he tries. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry if what I did earlier- you know-“ You gesture vaguely in the air, completely oblivious to the fact Spencer is very familiar with what happened earlier because he can’t stop replaying it, “-If that made you uncomfortable. Or if I forced you, or-“
“Would it be weird if I asked you on a date when we land?”
The grin you send him shoots straight to his heart, eyes crinkling with laughter at his echo of the words you used earlier. If you notice you don’t mention it, but his hands can’t stop fidgeting under the table, slick with sweat.
“It’d only be weird if you don’t kiss me after.” You say.
His brows furrow, a small incredulous laugh leaving him. “What? Why?”
“We’ve already had our first kiss, so it’s out of the way.”
“Are you saying… You want to kiss me again?”
You thought that was obvious from when you kissed him earlier, but you’re happy to remind him. “Yes. I would like that very much.”
“Okay,” He says, bashfully, with a lick of his lips. “I can- I can arrange that.”
This time, when you turn back to your book, your head finds his shoulder and Spencer thinks his it has turned to gold, blessed by being touched by you. Would it be too much if, the second you get back to base, he writes about this moment in great detail to his mother?
+++
All of that leads to now, where The Date is in three days.
He plans to take you to his favourite book café, a place you’ve always wanted to go but never had the chance to, and he was so, so excited. Any time he gets to spend with you is cherished and means more to him than it does to you, because to him it’s an excuse for you to give him more reasons to fall in love with you. And he does - fall in love - every single day.
Was is the important word here. He’s not excited anymore.
It’s terrifying how quick the tides can change.
Just this morning, he was glancing with child-like excitement at the outfit he’s already chosen for the date. You brought him some coffee, whispering an endearing, “Three days!” as you did, and, according to Derek, Spencer’s love eyes (what the hell does that mean) were so big even Derek fell in love with you for a second.
Now, Spencer’s not territorial, but that comment stuck with him. Maybe that’s why he’s here now.
He has to cancel the date.
It pains him – God, does it pain him – but he has to. He can’t go on that date with you. He can’t… put you through that. Make you spend time with him and have to let him down gently, slowly, like you’re talking down a temper tantrum. He can’t then pretend everything’s okay in front of the team. He won’t be able to pretend, because he’s liked you for months.
He won’t force you to go on that date with him. You deserve better than that, and better than him.
That’s what it comes down to: you deserve better than him.
It started that morning with Derek, as previously mentioned. Then the team was whisked away on a case, and the detectives were all over you. JJ, too, but they were too intimidated by Elle and Morgan, who just laughed at their attempts to impress you. It was borderline inappropriate, but you were too concerned with the victims and finding a serial killer to pay some officers and detectives you’ll never see again any attention.
Spencer noticed, though. And he couldn’t concentrate.
The detectives are dressed too well – by that, he means the suits and the Rolex watches are way above their paygrade – and they keep emphasising how good looking you and JJ are and how lucky the BAU is to have such dolls working on the team. What is this, the 40s? Who calls anyone doll anymore? And, yes, the team is very lucky to have you and JJ, but because you’re both great minds and wildly intelligent people that, yes, are also very gorgeous, but your looks aren’t all you have to offer, thank you very much.
There’s a detective approaching you, again, as you stand by the water cooler.
Spencer frantically looks around, trying to find a member of the team. “Morgan!” He weakly calls, because Spencer won’t scare him off. Maybe Morgan can chase them away like they’re stray cats, with his big muscles and scary eyebrows. Or Elle, who earlier merely lifted an eyebrow and the officers scattered like cockroaches.
All he catches of the conversation between you and the model/detective at the cooler is, “I appreciate it, but no thank you,” and that’s all he needs to hear.
He should’ve known someone would eventually make a move. You’ve said no, clearly, and Spencer doesn’t understand why. I mean, yes, he knows why – you have a prior engagement – but the detective… As much as he’s kind of a dick, he complements you better than Spencer does. Physically.
And there starts the spiral.
There must be something in the water, because every officer and detective and everyone in between is in peak physical condition with dashing looks to boot. They’re all straight out of a magazine, as if the popular kids from Spencer’s high school graduated and followed him here to remind him he is incredibly unworthy of you.
Spencer is lanky, unlike the broad men and curvaceous women here, and slicks his hair to the side rather than up like the others. He wears sweater vests, not blazers, and he’s so skinny that his trousers always look like hand-me-downs – nothing is fitted, like so many outfits are here.
They’re all everything Spencer is not. And Spencer is realising, quite quickly, that they’re the better ones – and that’s what you deserve. Better. The best.
It gets worse when they deliver the profile.
He finds his spot next to you, gives you a tight lipped smile, then looks at the outfits of his team compared to his own. Both Hotch and Morgan wear dark suits, well-proportioned and sophisticated in a way that Spencer is sure isn’t even in his calibre. Elle wears a deep green t-shirt, tucked into her tight black pants, and looks wonderfully intimidating with her double gun holster wrapped around her shoulders.
And you. You.
You wear a white shirt tucked into nicely tailored trousers, hair effortlessly styled with a pen tucked behind your ear. You all look like FBI agents. Intimidating. Prepared. Put-together.
Spencer… looks like he’s still in high school. He threatens no one, intimidates no one, and definitely does not make anyone feel inferior with his masculinity. He’s not an alpha male, is what he’s trying to say, and for each person he encounters in this wretched police department he feels himself shrinking.
So when they give the profile, he tries to say as little as possible. Tries to attract as little attention as possible, so when Hotch says his usual, “Thank you.” He can slip away unnoticed and hide from the superior beings.
It works, given everyone is too busy trying to save lives. Except you notice, and Spencer has to pretend he’s okay when you find him at the evidence board and tell him you’re excited for the date. He wants to believe you, truly does, but no matter how hard he digs into his brain to find a part of him that can fathom you see him as a better option than literally anyone else, it doesn’t exist.
You don’t seem to notice. He tells himself he’s glad, but there’s no denying the disappointment.
+++
Hotch calls it a night when the clock nears midnight. He says the team should get as much rest as possible and come in with fresh eyes tomorrow – despite this, the team knows most if not all of them will get little to no sleep, given that they’ll all be going over everything they’ve got so far in their hotel rooms.
You slink up to Spencer, a pep in your step even though you’re running on pure caffeine and nothing else. It’s then Spencer realises he has to do it now, because if he does it in the police department then he’ll be called unprofessional, but if he waits any longer than that he’ll be cutting too close and that’s a bad look.
“Y/N,” He says, coming to a stop before the elevators, allowing the rest of the team to head up. “I need to say something.”
You nod with a smile, covering a cute yawn when he takes a couple seconds to gather his thoughts.
You’re not sure what he’s gonna say, but you assume it’ll be to do with the date. Maybe a change of time, or a change of venue – he did mention the library café can get super busy on weekends – or, worst case scenario, the date will have to be postponed for whatever reason. And none are particularly bad, because you’re excited and just want to be with Spencer – it doesn’t matter if it’s not when he originally planned or where he originally planned.
But Spencer has always unwittingly been full of surprises.
“We can’t go on that date.”
Instantly you ask, “Why not?”
“Well-“ He seems caught off guard, like he wasn’t expecting you to question the sudden change of heart, “It’s complicated-“
“I’ve got time.”
“We should go to sleep-“
“Is it your mother?”
“No. No, it’s not.” Of course you look empathetic when you consider his mother might need him – a stab to the start. Add in the flicker of concern in your eyes – two stabs to the heart. “It’s not her. It’s- it’s nothing. Just, can we cancel?”
“And reschedule?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
The disappointment is clear on your face and makes Spencer feel so guilty, but not guilty enough to take it back. You’re not disappointed that you’re missing out on dating him, you’re frustrated that you’ve been building up to having plans on the weekend and they’ve suddenly been cancelled without reason. By Spencer, of all people. In a couple months’ time you’ll thank him, when you’re dating some bodybuilder who can grow a mean beard. You’ll thank him for not making you go on that date with him and forcing you to tell him you’re just not my type, Spence, and making everything awkward.
He can’t look at you. Maybe that’s why he misses the genuine sadness, the sudden glassiness of your eyes that humiliates you enough to make you angry. His words have ignited a fire in your chest that burns through your body like you’re made of gasoline, and you wish you could turn your thoughts off so you don’t start questioning how long he’s been wanting to reject you, if he even wanted to date you in the first place, how embarrassing it is to have been so openly eager when, apparently, he was very much not.
“I’m sorry.” He says, like it’ll do anything. He still can’t look at you and he feels like a coward.
“Yeah.” You sniffle.
He decides to take the stairs. You head for the bar, just for one drink.
+++
The following day, when an officer tries to talk to you, you blatantly ignore him. You tell him that unless it’s work-related, you’re really not interested, and word spreads quick that your pleasantries have died out and you’re not in the mood to tolerate creepy compliments.
There’s a permanent frown on your face that haunts Spencer the entire day. He knows exactly what’s going on – it’s his fault, after all – and he finds himself simultaneously avoiding you whilst witnessing your downcast mood.
Morgan starts investigating not long after you barely react to his terrible joke. He makes them for you, because you either choke on laughter or throw your pen at him, but this time it was like you weren’t even in the room. When Morgan poked you and asked if you heard him, your lacklustre reply was, “Hm? Yeah, good one.”
Morgan perches on the desk Spencer’s using. “You got any idea what’s going on with Y/N?”
“They’re mad at me.”
“You’re the reason they’re like this?”
Spencer doesn’t physically react, just says, as casually as possible, “Unless another person asked them on a date then cancelled without reason, then yes. It’s my fault.”
There’s no point in lying. Especially to Derek. Spencer doesn’t know how you’ll go about explaining your sudden poor mood, if you’ll curse his very existence or lie about it, but Spencer’s never been a good liar and the sooner everyone knows it’s his fault and he sucks, the better.
Morgan leans forward, attempting to make eye contact with the doctor who very much does not want to. “There’s a story there.”
“Obviously.”
“…You wanna go ahead and explain it?”
“Not really.”
“Alright,” Derek shrugs, “You stir in your sadness and continue being a sourpuss, I’ll go check up on Y/N and find out what really happened.”
Derek’s barely moved off the table when Spencer stops him, voice small like a child, “Wait, Morgan, I-“
You walk past then, too focused on a suspect list faxed in by Garcia to pay attention to anyone else. Spencer’s eyes follow you the whole time, and the look in Spencer’s twinkling eyes make Morgan slump back onto the table in realisation.
“Why’d you cancel, Reid?”
“I had to.”
“You had other plans?”
Spencer chews his bottom lip. “No. But I… I couldn’t take them on a date.”
Derek waits for him to elaborate.
“Have you seen the kind of guys hitting on them?” Spencer asks, scooting his chair closer so no one can eavesdrop. “They’re all… They’re- they’re like you, Morgan. All cool and put-together and actually look their age, for one, and I’m not that. I could never be that – and that’s what Y/N wants-“
“Have you asked them that?”
“No. But I’m a profiler, in case you forgot, and I think it makes sense that these big-shouldered, super muscly guys are all over-“
“But you haven’t actually asked them what they want.”
“No.” Spencer sighs, leaning back in his chair.
“That’s your first, and most vital, mistake, my man.”
Spencer purses his lips, catching you watching him over Derek’s shoulder. You immediately look away, shooting off to the evidence room as an escape, and Spencer’s cheeks burn with guilt and embarrassment.
He can’t believe he thought he had a chance with you.
“I feel like this should be obvious, Genius, but Y/N said yes to a date with you, then turned down every offer that came from someone that wasn’t you-“
“That’s because they already made plans with me and they’d feel terrible if they had to cancel for another, better offer. I made it easier for them.”
Derek gives him such an incredulous look Spencer wonders if he should burn his PhDs. “Are you serious?”
The crestfallen expression on Spencer’s face is enough of an answer.
“Come with me.”
“What?”
“C’mon,” Derek tugs Spencer up from his chair. “I need to show your dumb ass something.”
All that’s missing is classic spy music when Derek and Spencer sneak into the conference room the BAU is using. Only Hotch is in there, scribbling something down, barely glancing up when the two agents creep in like they’re on a mission.
Spencer doesn’t say anything until Derek reaches for your bag. “Whoa- Morgan-“
“Relax.”
Spencer just stares, brows halfway down his face, and watches silently.
“That’s they’re journal, Morgan, you can’t just read it-“
“It’s not, pretty boy.”
Hotch watches the interaction, mildly confused, then nods to himself when he realises what Morgan’s holding.
Morgan splays the journal on the table in front of them, flipping through pages with precision like it’s his notebook and not yours. When he lands on his desired page, it’s slid towards Spencer.
He reads it.
The Doctor Spencer Reid cheat sheet. (Because I do not have an eidetic memory and feel bad whenever I forget something he tells me)
He’s too stumped by the words cheat sheet to look further, so Derek does it for him, flipping to the next page where very basic information about Spencer sits – full name, date of birth, hometown. As he looks to the page next to it, he realises it’s full of his favourite things – favourite coffee, favourite candy (which has multiple answers, by the way), even favourite pair of socks. Like a switch has been flipped, Spencer comes to life, frantically switching between pages that are overflowing with facts and tidbits about him, from his favourite monologue from his favourite film to his favourite shelf in his apartment. All things he’s told you either in passing or when he’s confided in you at random times, you’ve taken note. You’ve listened, and for some reason you’ve written it all down so you’d never forget.
“What…What is this?”
“It’s everything there is to know about you, Reid.” Derek watches as Spencer slips through the rest of the book, filled with random to-do lists and phone numbers of various people, looking for the same information about the rest of the team. “There’s only one for you, you know. And if you ask me it’s a little creepy, but it’s saved our asses when it’s come to buying gifts for you a good few times.” He slaps a hand on his friend’s shoulder, smirking at how Spencer’s awe-filled eyes never leave the pages before him. “They care about you a lot, Reid. More than you think. So…”
“I need to talk to them.”
“Yes, idiot, you do.”
+++
That night, Elle and Derek invite you to join them for some drinks at the bar, promising they won’t let it escalate to arm wrestling and childish bets like they always do. Even though they make a compelling argument, add on that you’re stressed and upset and really, really want to forget emotions exist more than anything else, you’re half tempted to accept and lose yourself in some cocktails.
Then you spot Spencer talking in hushed tones with Gideon and everything comes flooding back. So you tell Elle to have a drink for you, please don’t make a ruckus when she gets back to your shared room, and bid them adieu.
In your room, you distract yourself by renting one of your favourite movies. It’s overpriced, and a part of you wants to look over the case files again, but being sad and burnt out won’t lead to any good outcomes.
It’s a futile attempt at switching your brain off so you don’t have to think about how excited you were for the date. You’ve had twenty-four hours to get over it, but every time you see him you’re thrown back into the bitterness you feel – bitter that you fooled yourself into thinking it’d work out, bitter that your hopes were so high, bitter that you let your feelings for Spencer become such a big part of your life.
You’re lying on your scratchy hotel bed, thinking about Spencer and how he’s going to be complaining to Morgan about said scratchy beds, when there’s a knock at your door.
Naturally, you assume its Elle. She reminds you so much of your older sister who used to slide you some money so you’d stay up late into the night and quietly let her back into the house after she’s sneaked off to go to a party – except Elle is probably swaying outside your hotel room after losing her keycard rather than swaying on your doorstep.
So when you open the door, teasing quip ready, you legitimately choke when you’re faced with a fidgety Spencer Reid.
He tries to ignore how the way your face drops when you realise it’s him feels like a punch to the gut.
“Hey-“
“No.”
“Oh.”
“You-what-“ He’s never seen you so flustered. “Are you lost?”
Just in case, Spencer leans back to check the number beside your door is in fact 208. It is, and he turns back to you, “Please don’t slam the door in my face.”
It slips out. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise your pretty face.”
You’re humiliated that he has this effect on you, the ability to obliterate all your filters and common sense just by existing. But the look on his face alleviates the want to jump out of the window – his mouth opens, twitching into the smallest, most bashful smile before it falls and morphs back into disbelief. You just… You just called his face pretty, a word that makes some feel emasculated but no, never with you. You compliment people and mean it, which makes Spencer’s guilt worsen and the urge to tell you he loves you with his entire heart more intense.
You speak at the same time.
“Why are you-“
“I wanted to-“
You roll your lips together, holding back a smile, and nod for him to go on. He does the same, so you shake your head with a, “I was just asking why you’re here.”
He holds up a finger, signalling one moment, and opens his satchel to start rummaging in it. “I know this is a complete invasion of privacy, and theft, really, but Morgan showed me it and I just- Why do you have this?”
You gasp.
In his hand is the journal you’ve been working on since a month into your employment at the BAU. The gifted notebook was initially used to jot down any bits of advice your superiors gave you (on your first day, Elle gave you a list she lovingly titled “If I wasn’t an FBI agent I’d sock these people in the mouths”) but, before you knew it, it had an entirely different purpose.
It started when you witnessed Derek stumble when asked Spencer’s favourite colour, to which he said no one remembers stuff like that! Aptly followed by Spencer reeling off everyone’s preferred colours (even delving into second favourites and favoured colour schemes) and you realised then that… Spencer’s whole life, he’s remembered so much about the people around him and very rarely have they returned the favour. So, in an attempt to build friendship and because you had the fattest crush on him already, you started the Spencer Reid cheat sheet.
You didn’t think he’d ever see it, even if it’s always used by the team on various occasions. It was the team’s little secret, bar Spencer, that assisted in nearly every decision made on Spencer’s behalf – what to order from restaurants, drinks, birthday and holiday gifts, how to comfort him when he’s stressed or upset.
The responses vary. Derek thinks it’s weird, as did Elle at first, but JJ and Garcia insist its sweet and, really, no matter what they think they’ve all come running to you when time has called for it.
“How… Did you steal it?”
“Yes,” He tells you, guiltily, “I had to read it – it’s incredibly accurate, by the way.”
You don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.
“So… Why?”
“I don’t know,” You say, a bold-faced lie and Spencer can tell, but he lets you continue, “You remember everything about everyone else, so I wanted to… do the same for you, I guess.”
“I have an eidetic memory.”
You airily laugh – does he think you forgot that? “I know that. Doesn’t it get tiring recalling all this information about your friends and not having it reciprocated?”
He clicks his tongue at that, eyes falling back to the notebook in his hands that he fiddles with while he thinks. It is tiring, he supposes, but that’s how it’s always been. He remembers everything, the people around him just… don’t. He realised at a young age that he’ll often have to remind himself that friendship isn’t measured by what they remember, but by other ways – like this. You, with your unassuming journal that is full of things Spencer assumed no one would ever care to remember.
You, with your tensed jaw and fluttering eyes because you’re embarrassed.
You, who’s done quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for him, and it’s been happening for years right under his nose.
You, who he cancelled a date with because he was so sure you were dating him out of pity, out of obligation after he asked and you felt forced to say yes, but now he realises you care about him just as much as he cares for you.
Touched feels like an understatement.
“Y/N…”
“If you find it weird, I’ll burn it the second we get home. Pretend it never happened, we can… discuss a restraining order if we must-“
“Y/N.”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Oh.”
He smiles at you, hands tight on the book in his hands, smiles so big that his eyes crinkle and his teeth show and he looks gorgeous. It tugs directly on your heart strings and just for a second you forget that he cancelled your date, forget that you’ve been pining for years, and bask in the warmth that radiates from him.
“This is… Insane, really.” He laughs, “But also so… so cool. I don’t deserve this, at all, and to think we could’ve gone on a date but I chickened out-“
“What?”
He shrugs with faux-nonchalance. “The-um- the reason I took back the date was because I think you deserve so much better than me. In a, you deserve someone like all the police officers down at the PD, kind of way. I don’t want a pity date-“
You scoff, then with an indignant, “Come in here,” You grab Spencer’s satchel and tug him into your hotel room, closing the door with a forceful push as he turns to face you.
With your hands on your hips, you stare him down with furrowed brows and a look that screams really? “Is that really what you think, Spence? It was a pity date?”
“Well, yeah,” He tells you. The conviction in his voice is so strong that, if you weren’t this riled up, you’d probably tear up at how sure he sounds.
You give another scoff. “Not only am I offended you think I’d do that to anyone, but I’m also mad that you don’t see how I look at you! Spencer, I’ve been into you since I started working here-“ His mouth falls open. You’re exasperated. “-and the notes were a way to get to know you, yes, but they were also because I couldn’t stop watching you and had to play it off like I was doing it for a reason. You’re my favourite, Spencer.”
His heart aches a little, full of such a tenderness he’s never quite felt before. He feels loved, and so, so touched that someone would put so much effort into getting to know him and… years. Literal years you’ve liked him, and he’s been blind to it.
“I like you a lot.” You’re breathless after your little speech, “And if you still don’t want that date, that’s okay. But I like you, Spence, I really like you.”
Your gaze never wavers. Spencer wants to scoop you up and place kisses all over. For the first time in a while, he feels worthy. Like what you’re saying isn’t being said for the sake of it, because you’re his friend and you have to support him, but because it’s what you genuinely think and feel and Spencer might be in love.
He swallows deeply before speaking.
“I really like you, too, Y/N. And I’m-I’m sorry that I cancelled the date and- I should’ve talked to you, maybe, before doing it, but… We’re here now, right?”
“You want to have a date right now?”
Thumbing through the book, he says, “Actually, there’s some blanks in here I’d like to fill, if you’re not busy…”
You’re very clearly on board with the suggestion, basically skipping to your bed, plopping down and patting the space beside you with a grin. “I’m not busy at all, Doctor Reid. Tell me everything I don’t already know.”
So he does, thigh pressed against yours and blush on his cheeks when you let your head fall onto his shoulder.
The night is spent giggling over the most random information you’ve gathered, correcting only one mistake (his favourite socks change every week, not your fault), and adding onto the already plentiful fact file.
And the date that weekend happens, ending in a sweet kiss on your doorstep that leaves you both with shy smiles and thundering hearts.
It’s the first date of many, followed by the creation of a new journal full of all there is to know about your and Spencer’s relationship.
+++
tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @bitchyreids @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @jasongideonapologist @gublertoon @averyhotchner
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x y/n#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#i tried to write the first half in the past tense but i got confused so sorry if the tenses r weird
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spoiled.
Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader
a joyful future fic
a/n: happy valentine’s day!
words: 2.1k
warnings: language, over-the-top valentine’s day shenanigans
summary: “the best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds.” - nicholas sparks. au!february 2012
masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?
Aaron leaves rather early in the morning, leaving you in bed complaining with only a kiss for your trouble.
When you eventually get up, on track to be about fifteen minutes late to the federal building, you find a pair of post-its on the fridge.
Always the romantic.
+++
The evening rolls around and finds you on the couch with Jess and Jack.
“You gonna start getting ready?” Jess asks. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”
You look over at her. “Wait. He told you what we’re doing?”
She nods. “Yeah. You have no idea. He hasn’t done a big Valentine’s Day thing since he surprised Haley in her senior year of college. He’s been looking for an excuse.”
That’s terrifying.
“Guess I better get ready then.”
Jack’s got a funny little smile on his face, but you ignore it. You’re sure the Hotchner boys are in cahoots, but it’s not really worth it to try and wiggle anything out of him.
You head to the master bedroom to get dressed, throwing off your slouchy day-off clothes in favor of something that can take you to a fancy dinner and whatever else Aaron has planned for your evening.
+++
You walk out of the apartment, hearing Jess lock the door behind you. When you reach the front of the apartment complex, Aaron closes the car door as he hops out, meeting you halfway to the sidewalk.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
He’s wearing a black button-up, black slacks, and his favorite pair of black oxfords. It’s a sharp look and one he knows you love.
“You’re looking quite dapper yourself, sir.”
The boyish grin on his face melts your heart and you take the arm he offers. Like a real gentleman, he opens the door for you and makes sure you’re inside before closing you in.
+++
The drive is quiet. You ask about the office once or twice, but it’s clear there’s nothing significant to report.
“So...what are we doing tonight?”
He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “Dinner. And a few other things.”
+++
When he says ‘dinner,’ he’s not joking. The restaurant is a high-end, no-prices-on-the-menu type of place. The lighting is low, the environment cozy and quiet.
He must have planned this months ago. Reservations are like gold on Valentine’s Day.
Aaron’s squinting at the menu across from you. It makes you laugh.
“Need a flashlight and your reading glasses?”
“Shut up.” It comes with his own laugh, but he’s still squinting.
You finally decide on something and order, trusting Aaron’s taste in wine. When the waiter leaves, Aaron reaches across the table for your hand.
“Okay,” he says. You recognize his tone - it’s professional, like he’s starting a press conference. “No work, no kids, no serial killers.”
You smile, waiting for him to give you a little more context.
“How are you?”
What a question.
How often does the answer to that question not include work, kids, or serial killers?
Not very.
“I’m good.” You mean it. “I’m really good.”
There’s a small smile on his face. “Why?”
Are you profiling me now, Hotch?
Deciding to give him shit, you ask, “Why am I good, or is that a more general existential question?”
He rolls his eyes and you relent.
“Alright. Well…” You take a breath. “There are a lot of things to be happy about. You, for one thing.”
“Me?” He asks. He looks genuinely surprised.
Fool.
“Yes, you.” You squeeze his hand. “You are my best friend and somehow - somehow - I’ve landed you as my partner. I am living out everything I dreamed of at twenty-five.”
That pulls another smile from him. “Really?” Again, he looks genuinely surprised.
Can’t believe I’ve never told this to him.
Ridiculous
“Oh yeah. I can’t believe you never noticed. I had a huge crush on you - instantly. Derek gave me nothing but hell once he figured it out.” You pause. “Do you remember that time on the plane, really early on, when I woke up and everyone thought I had a nightmare?”
Looking a little confused by your change in direction, and you don’t blame him.
“I think so? I remember we all felt so bad.” He shrugs. “We all get them, of course - still do - but we were worried about you.”
“Right. So -”
Aaron’s head tilts to the left as he interrupts you. “Did you say ‘everyone thought’ it was a nightmare?”
Your face gets hot and you suddenly regret bringing this up at all. “Yeah. I’m getting to that.”
With an embarrassed huff, you continue. “So, it wasn’t a nightmare.”
“No?” The question comes accompanied by a frown.
“No. It was a sex dream. About you.”
You can tell he’s doing his best to hide his smile for your benefit, but there’s a threatening dimple that gives him away and you’ve simply known him too long for him to get away with anything.
“Really?” His tone is neutral, polite, but you can hear the humor behind the apparently bland interest.
“Yep.”
“What - if I may ask - was it about? Specifically?”
You take a breath and adopt the same kind of ironic professionalism as Aaron. “Well, now it doesn’t seem so notable, because i’m more than familiar with your, um, technique.”
And it’s true. Though you hardly remember the details of the dream anymore - it's been years - you know that real life doesn’t even come close.
Aaron pulls his hand from yours and steeples his fingers under his chin. He’s the picture of interest, so you continue.
“The key points are as follows -”
He holds up a finger, and you stop. “On second thought,” he says. “I think this recollection would be better served by a demonstration.”
You nod. “You’re probably right.”
“I’ll pencil it in.”
You grin at each other for a moment, the back-and-forth of it so deeply on brand you can’t help but steep in it for a second.
“So,” he says, “as you were saying before…?”
“Right.”
Back to business.
“I had a huge crush on you and could swear you were the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”
Never one to forgo an opportunity to compliment him when he’s not actively swatting at you, you continue.
“In the lecture you gave with Gideon and Derek, I knew you were in charge before you said anything. Even though Gideon had the years and experience on you, it was clear that everything came through you.” You attempt to explain the inarticulable. “There’s a kind of steadiness - one you still have - that radiates off of you.”
The two of you sit in that for a moment.
You continue. “And then, of course, when we met again I had to really focus on not making an ass of myself in front of Strauss.”
He laughs. His laughter makes you laugh, of course. It’s so much higher than his speaking register, so delightful in its unexpectedness.
“Okay, okay.” You stop, covering your face with your hands. “Okay this is cheesy. Promise not to laugh.”
His eyebrows rise and he forces his mouth into something that only threatens a dimple once more.
“When you shook my hand in Radner’s office, there was this crazy jolt of energy or something that just flew up my arm. It was wild. I’ve never been able to forget it, almost like a flashbulb memory.”
As promised, he doesn’t laugh. There is, however, a kind of wonder in his eyes when he replies, “You felt that, too?”
+++
After dinner (and dessert), Aaron takes your hand and ushers you into the car when you leave the lod. He doesn’t turn the way you expect.
“Where are we going?”
The dashboard casts a glow on his face. You can still spot a dimple in the dark. “You’ll see.”
+++
Your disbelief only grows when you go deeper into the city and pull up to the Hay-Adams. The valet opens the door for you, while Aaron hands over the keys to his SUV. Once all the details are covered, you take his arm again and let him guide you into the lobby.
It’s expansive. The Hay-Adams is, of course, one of the most historic buildings in the district and considered one of the best hotels on the East Coast by people who know of these things.
Aaron confirms the reservation and gets the room cards before promptly finding the elevator and swiping in for the seventh floor. You look down, remembering your attire at the last minute.
“Aaron, I don’t have my go bag.”
He shakes his head, still looking forward. “Don’t need it.”
You scoff.
He doubles down. “Do you trust me?”
Stupid question.
“Of course.”
“Go with it. I’m trying to spoil you.” He turns and presses his lips to yours, taking your face in his hand. Against your mouth, he says, “Let me.”
+++
The room is gorgeous - a one bedroom suite with a living room, balcony, and kitchenette, a huge couch dominates the center of the open living area, opposite an impressive television. Through the open door, you catch a glimpse of a king-sized bed.
This must have cost a small fortune.
As if reading your mind, Aaron takes your hand and tugs you forward. You land against his chest and he smiles at you. “Don’t think too hard. Come with me.”
You follow him out to the balcony and the view takes your breath away. The White House, well-lit in the D.C. nighttime, sits right across the street. From here, you can see Lafayette Square - beyond it, almost the whole city.
When you come back to yourself, you realize there’s an outdoor loveseat and a small table, holding champagne (on ice) and chocolate-covered fruit.
Champagne, chocolate, fancy dinner… The whole nine.
Spoiled indeed.
Aaron sits, pulling you down beside him. He pours two glasses of champagne - mostly for show, and moves the bucket to the ground. The fruit goes off to the side table and his feet go up on the small table, crossing at the ankles. You curl up against him, tucking under his arm.
“Do you like it? Too much?”
You can hear the genuine insecurity behind his cheeky question. You press a kiss to the back of his hand. “I love it. It is too much, but it’s very thoughtful. You twist to kiss the underside of his jaw. “Thank you.”
With that, the two of you settle in, quietly enjoying the company and the quiet. It’s cold, but with the outdoor heater, it’s comfortable enough that you don’t need your coat.
“Okay.”
Aaron sits up. “Yes?”
“You asked, so it’s only fair. No work, no kids, no serial killers. How are you?”
He pulls you over so you’re sitting across his lap. You rest your head on his shoulder, your hand smoothing over the soft fabric of his button-up before placing it over his heart.
“I’m good,” he says. “I’m really good.”
“Why?” You feel a little like a parrot, but you’re sure that’s what he’s going for.
“I can’t...quite articulate how lucky I feel.”
That’s relatable.
“I’m happy to be here with you.” He shakes his head - a pensive gesture. “I never thought I could make it here again.”
“Where?” You ask.
“In love, happy, facing a future that doesn’t scare me. My son is happy, safe...I wasn’t sure I'd ever have any of that again after losing Haley.”
He pauses and you can feel a little sardonic smile. You don’t have to see it to know it’s there. His next admission, though, surprises you.
“I accepted that I would be a bystander in your life a long time ago. I accepted that I would likely remain a widower, a single father. I knew you’d be around and that I would be your friend, but I made peace with the idea that I’d never have you right here.” He squeezes you twice, in time with his words. It makes you smile.
He shakes his head and lets out a little laugh. “I’m not sure it’ll ever sink in.”
You feel much the same, but it's kind of at once alarming and amusing to hear him so beautifully articulate feelings that so closely resemble your own.
You lean back to look at him. “I’m glad you were wrong.”
He places a gentle finger under your chin and kisses you, long and languid. It’s a promise. After a little while, he leans back, brushing the back of his fingers over your cheek.
“Me too.”
+++
tagging: @avengersbau @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygranger @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @prentisswrites @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-dr-reid @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @luciilferss @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me @itsalwaysb33nyou @s-unflowxr @imlottiie @stummdummrumstehen @hqtchner @finnologys @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @hothothotchner @the-falling-in-the-danger @mac99martin @ssahotchner99 @vagabond-ing @itsmytimetoodream @rebel-flying @nuvoleincielo @rqgnarok @ssa-volturi @reidyoulikeabook @schlooper @itsmytimetoodream @bau-baby @ssagube @oreogutz @lexieshuntingsstuff @saintsmotels @hotchestie @marvelousmissmaggie @mosiacbrokenhearstf
#aaron hotchner x reader#hotch x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#tali talks cm#tali writes fanfiction#a joyful future#a joyful future fanfic
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I love pins too!!! What are your favorites???
omggg okay I’m glad you asked this because it made me actually sit down and pick out some favorites (it was so hard lol)
so. buckle up.
first off, there’s this absolutely gorgeous, gold metal LE50 Cody pin from ElectricInkStudios! They’re a smaller company, and I absolutely love the softness and detail of all their designs. I have their Rex and Obi-Wan pins too, but Cody is my fave. It’s so warm and sunny and goes perfectly with the sandstone-orange baseball cap I wear all the time!!
Next, this fuckin badass Ahsoka pin from Tomorrowlanddesign. I just loveee how detailed and dramatic the art style is!!!
Next, this LE66 pin of the 501st battalion from ZARPindom. I love pins with unique little details, and this one has a real cloth flag, handsewn by the grandma of one of the shop owners!! 🥺🥺
Also I love my “who the fuck is ahsoka tano” pin from Whatthewhatpins purely for its comedic value. Cracks me up every time I look at it tbh
Moving on, another of my favorites is this glow-in-the-dark holo Ahsoka pin from Hyperspacepins, as well as this beautifullll Threepio and Artoo pin from Punchitchewiepress!! Again, I love the Ahsoka pin because it’s so unique, and then honestly every PICP pin I own is just a work of art.
Then we have this awesome Plo Koon pin from TeamTanoAlive. I love how big and detailed it is and his pose is just so cool!! When it’s not summertime and boiling hot, I love wearing this pin on my farm overalls :)
Next up, more pins I love for their uniqueness:
1. Mando + Gideon’s TIE fighter by Macguffingoods! The little Din hanging off the chain is just. So good
2. Jedi holocron pin, another lovely one from Punchitchewiepress. The blue is sandblasted enamel and it is sooo pretty in the sunlight (I also have their Sith holocron pin and they go so well together!!!)
3. Death Star + Millenium Falcon pin from ZARPindom. These guys honestly always knock it out of the park with their pin designs, this one is absolutely gorgeous - from the silver plating to the translucent blue enamel to the screenprinted details on the Falcon and the TIE, I just love love love this pin!!
4. Mando flamethrower pin from bbcre8. It’s a sliding pin, so you can slide the flame back and forth as though it’s coming out of his vambrace! Again, just super unique and such a fun little detail :-) and the level of detail on the screenprinting is amazing!!
Last but certainly not least, all my clone helmet pins from FulcrumDawn. They honestly might be my favorite shop, and I could make a whole post talking about my pins of theirs! The one pictured below is of Captain Keeli, and I keep it on my backpack because the colors go so perfectly together. But I also have 11 of their other clone helmet pins and counting, along with some of their iron heart pins and a Sentinel pin! I just really love how they make pins of less popular characters. They’re coming out with a Colt pin soon and I’m definitely snagging that!! :’)
aaah okay this post is pretty long so I’ll stop but I definitely have more favorites!!! Like I said I could honestly make a whole post dedicated to my FulcrumDawn pins, or my PICP pins, or my Ahsoka pin collection, or my Mando pin collection, or or or —
Image IDs below the cut!
Photo 1
[Image ID: Enamel pin of Commander Cody from The Clone Wars. It is chest-up with his helmet on. The plating is shiny gold metal, and the enamel colors of his armor are shades of soft, muted orange and white. There is no black in the image, just dark gold for the shading. Behind Cody’s head is a large Galactic Republic wheel logo, edged in gold plating with white enamel for the blank spaces in between the spokes of the wheel. The pin itself is pinned on a sandstone-orange baseball cap. Below the pin are hand-embroidered desert plants - ephedra, rabbitbrush, and scarlet paintbrush. End image ID.]
Photo 2
[Image ID: Ahsoka bust pin held in my hand; it’s a bit longer than my fingers. The art style is kind of cartoony and dramatic. Ahsoka’s lekku are long, like they were in Rebels, and also her dark blue lekku markings are wavy like they were in Rebels. Her skin is dark orange, as though you were seeing her at dusk; her eyelashes are huge and dark, and her eyes are vivid electric blue. She is wearing a simple black cloak with silver trim, and a dark gray headband with a light gray stone set in the middle. End image ID.]
Photo 3
[Image ID: The first pin is of four 501st troopers, including Captain Rex, holding up a red cloth flag with a black Galactic Republic symbol on it; they’re in the pose of that famous Iwo Jima flag-raising photograph. they are wearing phase 2 armor and standing on brown dirt, and a discarded phase 2 clone helmet is half-buried in the dirt towards the right edge of the pin. The second pin is round and has a thin light blue border around the edge, followed by a thick band of dark blue with the words “WHO THE FUCK IS AHSOKA TANO” in light blue over top of the dark blue band. In the center of the pin is a padawan-aged Ahsoka; just her head and lekku. She’s wearing her akul-tooth headdress, and looking over her left shoulder and glaring at the viewer. End image ID.]
Photo 4
[Image ID: The first pin is another bust of Ahsoka... lol can you tell I love her?? With this pin, it’s just her lower back and up; she’s looking back over her right shoulder at the viewer, in the pose from that one scene in season 7 when she contacts Anakin. The pin is all light and dark blue, striped with pale white-blue like how the holograms in Star Wars look. You can’t tell from the picture, but the pin glows pale green in the dark. The second pin is a waist-up design of the droids Threepio on the left and Artoo on the right. It’s all gold plating, and Threepio is very shiny gold. He is resting his right hand on top of Artoo’s head. In the background is a jagged slice of space - black enamel with red, white, and blue dots of varying sizes to represent stars. End image ID.]
Photo 5
[Image ID: Large pin of Jedi Master Plo Koon. It’s about 4 inches tall. The design is him from the waist up, clad in his dark brown Jedi robe with the hood up, and wearing white clone armor vambraces and gauntlets, decorated with the 104th wolfpack symbol like he wore in the Clone Wars show. His right arm is stretched out and down, and he holds his blue lightsaber in a backwards grip, the blade extended up and behind him, extending past the left side of his head. His left arm is bent, his hand up near his face, and his fingers are extended, palm towards the viewer, as though he’s using the Force on you. End image ID.]
Photo 6
[Image ID: Pin 1 is a dark chrome enamel pin of Moff Gideon’s TIE fighter from The Mandalorian show. It’s sleek, dark gray and black. There is a metal loop on the bottom of the TIE fighter body, from which hangs a short dark metal chain; on the other end of the chain is another metal loop, attached to a tiny little Din Djarin pin. He is wearing his silver beskar armor, and one arm is reaching up above his head to hold onto the chain. His cape flares out behind him to the left, and his legs and other arm dangle down.
Pin 2 is a Jedi holocron, all gold plating and turquoise-blue sandblasted enamel that glitters in sunlight. It is a two-point perspective of the holocron, meaning you can see both the left and right sides and the top of it.
Pin 3 is the first Death Star, with chrome plating and light gray enamel and screenprinting to show all the details of the surface. It is a pin-on-pin design, and the Death Star is the lower pin; the pin attached over top of it is the Millenium Falcon, flying away from the Death Star, trailing blue light (shown with blue translucent enamel) and being pursued by a tiny dark gray and black TIE fighter. Red and white blaster bolts streak in front of and behind the Falcon, as if the TIE fighter is shooting at it.
Pin 4 is Din Djarin in his silver beskar armor, shooting his flamethrower out of his vambrace (forearm armor). He is facing to the left, and his right arm is held straight out in front of him, with the screenprinted orange-and-yellow flame shooting out from behind his arm. It’s on a sliding attachment, so you can slide it back behind him or fully extend it along his arm. His left arm is bent and his hand is held up in a defensive posture, as though to shield his face. The design shows him from mid-thigh and up, and his dark grayish cape swirls around him. End image ID.]
Photo 7
[Image ID: This is a pin of Captain Keeli from the Clone Wars. It is square on the left, right, and bottom edges; the top edge slants up from the left to the right top corners, so the pin forms a trapezoid shape. The pin shows his helmet, which is white with a light maroon-red border around his black visor, and darker maroon designs curling around the upper sides of the head and across the cheeks of the helmet. The curling designs resemble ram’s horns. The background behind the helmet is an even deeper maroon color, with a pale maroon ram’s horn curling design in the upper right corner. The pin is secured on my maroon red waterproof REI backpack; the fabric is the same shade as the ram’s horn designs on Keeli’s helmet. End image ID.]
#personal#asks#lol i could ramble about my pins for so long#star wars#star wars pins#enamel pins#pin collector#the clone wars#tcw#the clone wars pins#commander cody#ahsoka tano#501st battalion#r2d2#c3p0#artoo#threepio#plo koon#din djarin#captain keeli
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Mick & Zari 2.0 + social media
My Zari 2.0 voice seriously needs work, but I couldn’t resist a ficlet for this…
Someone bangs loudly on Zari’s door one evening. When she finally extracts herself from Catchat and opens it, she comes face to face with Mick. He’s managing to look even more sullen than usual. “The Rogues are on the internet,” he grumbles.
Zari blinks at him. “The who?”
“My old crew. I wanna know what they’re up to. Explain it to me.”
She tilts her head at him. “And what makes you think I won’t leave you in the dark out of respect for their privacy?”
Mick laughs. “Privacy? You? Nah. Anyway, it’s all public. It’s… whatsit. Social murderer.”
“Media,” Zari corrects patiently, because she knows Mick only does that as a defense mechanism, and she understands the need for shields and masks. “You seriously want to see what an old crew is doing? Why do you care?”
Shuffling from foot to foot, Mick shrugs. “They’re kinda like the Legends. You know - family. One of ‘em might as well be my baby sister. I helped raise her for long enough.” His gaze drops to the ground. “She put a thing on Twitter.”
Zari feels herself grin. “Oh! You want to spy on your little sibling using the considerable power of social networking. That, I can help with. Come in.”
Mick frowns as he follows Zari into her cabin. “I’m not good with the internet.”
“You write books, don’t you?” She opens her laptop. Probably better to start with a decent computer screen, than on a fiddly phone. She doesn’t even know if Mick knows how to use one of those.
“Yeah. On a typewriter.”
Zari sighs - she can already tell that this is going to be another evening like the torturous night she spent trying to explain TikTok to John - and opens Twitter, setting the temporal software to access the feed from September 2021. She pats the empty seat beside hers. Mick sits down at once, all awkward limbs in the small-ish chair, which is kind of adorable. “Okay. What’s her username?”
“Huh.” Mick stares up at the ceiling. “Gideon, what was the name on the thing she sent me?”
“Golden_Girl_85,” comes Gideon’s amused voice.
Zari pauses. She knows that username, a little too well. “Golden Glider is your surrogate baby sister?”
Mick sits forward in his seat. “Yeah. How d’you know her?”
Probably best not to tell Mick that Lisa Snart is quite the Twitter celebrity, in his time. Nor is Zari going to mention that she used to look up influencers through history for ideas, and ended up with a serious crush on the Golden Glider of the 2020s. “Oh, news compliations from your time, that kind of thing.” She fills out the search field, bringing up Lisa’s latest posts. “Is that the tweet she sent?”
Peering at the screen, Mick shrugs. “Couldn’t open it. Looks about right.”
Dressed in a gorgeous gold-studded leather jacket and perfect understated makeup, Lisa Snart is beaming at the camera, holding open a big duffel bag. If it were anyone else, Zari would be asking if those were real diamonds. She doesn’t bother. “She needs Instagram,” Zari murmurs appreciatively. “Or Catchat, but that won’t be a thing for a while, for her. Shame.” She catches Mick looking at her like he’s about to start glaring. “Well, that’s her account,” she says quickly. “I’d like to say it’s unwise of her to post stolen goods, but I have a feeling she knows how to cover her tracks.”
A rare smile breaks out on Mick’s face. It’s almost proud. “Damn right, she does.” He pokes the screen. “So I just go to Twitter and I can see her stuff, right there?”
“Yeah, if you can remember her username, but what you really need is to follow her.” Zari’s fingers fly across the keyboard, even as she’s internally bemoaning the lack of decent voice control. Ridiculous 2020s computers. “Let me set you up with an account. Hmm.” She smirks at Mick. “What do you want for a username? Firestarter_70?”
“I hate you for knowing when I was born,” he grumbles.
She pats his arm. “You couldn’t hate me if you tried, sweetie. And soon you’ll have just as much delicious free access to everyone else’s personal information.” She turns the screen so he can see his profile better. Well, he did turn up without his reading glasses. “There. One Twitter account, nice and anonymous. Now you can stalk as many of your old co-workers as you want.”
Mick narrows his eyes. “I want one of those little pictures.”
Zari manages not to smile. “A user icon? Sure. A photo, or something symbolic?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, scanning through search results for Heat Wave. She’s delighted to find a very artistic hand-painted image of the heat gun. She is not going to explain fan art to Mick. “There.”
Mick nods. “Ahhh. Good.”
“I’m glad you approve. And now I’ll just set you up to follow Golden Glider, and then we’re—”
“And the others.”
Zari sighs. “You want to follow the other - what did you call them - Rogues?”
Another firm nod. “That’s right.”
Her cursor hovers over the search field. “Got any usernames?”
Mick grunts. “One’s called Weather Wizard. And there’s Axel - can’t remember his code name. And Boo.”
Well, those are some ridiculous names. “You have a friend called Boo,” Zari echoes flatly.
“Ain’t her whole name. Peek-A-Boo.”
Any minute now, Zari is going to give up sighing, and take up growling like Mick. “Let’s see who Golden Glider is following.”
Mick’s eyes are wide at the screen. At least he’s entertained. “And then - what’s it called, the one Len liked. Facebook.”
Scrolling through Lisa’s following list, Zari gives Mick a defeated nod. “Fine. I can show you how Facebook works. Well, I can try. It’s a graveyard in my time.” She laughs. “It’s near enough a graveyard in your time, but I’ll give it a go.”
Mick nods in approval. “And what’s the one Rosa’s got… Instagram? She wouldn’t stop going on about it when I was in Central City last.”
Zari tries to imagine Mick Rory on Instagram. She has a hard-to-ignore fear that this is not going to go well. “Fine. If you promise not to post there.”
The put-out grunt is kind of cute. “Why can’t I post? Maybe I got pictures to show people.”
“Because you will offend the entire world, all at once,” Zari tells him absently. “Probably with something unhelpfully misogynistic, and not everyone knows you well enough to see the good heart under all that posturing. Do you know someone called Ragdoll?”
Mick yelps and covers his eyes. “No pictures of that clown!”
He doesn’t look much like a clown to Zari. More like a very skilled contortionist. Still, filing away the potentially useful knowledge that Mick isn’t keen on clowns, Zari keeps scrolling.
Two hours later, they’ve found all the various accounts of the Rogues, and Mick is using Facebook like he was born for it. Which, given his age, seems about right.
“Now TikTok,” he demands, bouncing in his seat. “The weasel told me he’s got a video there. If he gets a video, I want a video.”
Fascinated to have found out exactly where the limits of her patience are, Zari shows Mick out.
#headcanon ask game#mick rory#zari tarazi#gen#my fic#legends of tomorrow ficlet#none of us can queue this alone
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Books I’ve Read in 2020
AHello! I’m trying to read as many books as I can during the quarantine, here’s what I’ve finished so far:
On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong (literary fiction): a son writes a letter about his life to his illiterate mother. Breathtakingly beautiful with it’s way with words this book is lovely and real in the hardest and sweetest ways. The author’s combination of prose and poetry is dazzling and intricate, this book has stuck with me for days afterward. 4.5 out of 5 stars.
Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik (fantasy): a money-lender gets in trouble after bragging she can turn silver into gold and is kidnapped and ordered to do so by a fey creature. It may be that I am the perfect audience for this type of book, but it’s my favorite thing I’ve read all year. It’s a book that equally takes on the fantastical and real-world with compelling female characters at the center of the whole thing. A wonderful fantasy journey inspired by eastern-European Jewish folklore. 5 out of 5 stars.
Through the Woods by Emily Carroll (horror graphic novel): a series of short horror comics. Absolutely bone-chilling! This was a really fun type of scary story, especially the last one which made my skin absolutely crawl. Deliciously eerie, this was treat to read if not a little too short. 4 out of 5 stars.
The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender (magical realism): a young girl can taste other people’s emotions in their cooking and begins to understand her family in new ways. This was a weird book, but it has everything you’ve got to love about that combination of the surreal and mundane. It’s sense of character was electrifying and I had fun engaging with this type of off-kilter real world. I was a little frustrated in parts bc of some characters choices, but that too was true to life. 4 out of 5 stars.
Crier’s War by Nina Varela (steampunk fantasy wlw): about a Made automaton heir to a throne and her human hand-maiden that is trying to kill her. This was an easy read with a lot of tension between the two main characters that I liked, but the writing itself was very weak. There was waaay too much exposition in parts and the dialogue had some really hockey lines. I enjoyed the twists and turns in the middle of the book, but the beginning and end didn’t have much movement. 2.5 stars out of 5.
The Huntress by Kate Quinn (historical fiction): honestly, I’m a little disappointed. This book just did not hit my sweet spots, it wasn’t fast-paced enough for me to get immersed in the plot, and the characters weren’t real enough to be wholly invested in them. That said I adored Nina Markova and the Night Witches, so that did help. 3 starts out of 5.
The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein by Kiersten White (horror sci-fi retelling): HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND. A retelling of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein from the perspective of Victor Frankenstein’s wife and my God! The characters! The plot was well-enough, but the characters took the whole show for being complex and compelling. The main character was breathtakingly layered and I was wholly invested in Elizabeth and her story and the triumph at the end of this story was tangible. 4 out of 5 stars!
Uprooted by Naomi Novik (fantasy): A story of a young woman who lives in a valley where a girl must go live with a wizard for 10 years. She is certain she won’t be chosen, but ends up having to be “uprooted” herself. I enjoyed most of this book! However, I think I liked “Spinning Silver” a lot more just because the ending of this one somehow lost me. The characters were good and plot compelling, but (SPOILERS) the big battle at the end seemed to drag and didn’t interest me somehow. 3.8 out of 5 stars.
Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (fantasy): excellent read! A story of a young woman in Jazz Age Mexico who goes on an adventure with a Mayan death God who is trying to regain his throne. A romp across the country absolutely brimming with likable characters and fairy tale twists. My only complaint would be that most of it felt a little predictable due to the fact we knew where we were going throughout the whole story, However, it was still greatly enjoyable for the heroine herself, Casiopea. 4 out of 5 stars!
Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng (literary): a story of two families in a progressive “planned” community, how their lives intertwine, their secrets, and a central question surrounding motherhood. Deeply empathetic to its characters and introspective, this is an every-day story of people in suburbia that reads like a thriller. I could barely put it down and felt deeply for its characters and situations, 5 out of 5 stars!
Wilder Girls by Rory Power (YA sci-fi suspense): a story of a group of girls at a boarding school on an island affected by the “tox” which alters their bodies in strange ways like giving them scales or an extra spine. This was an eerie, interesting read with a wlw romance! Watch out for the body horror in this one, but it was very gripping and held my interest. Some of the pacing was off in places (like the romance), but had a very creepy atmosphere that did it for me. 3.8 out of 5 stars!
If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio (thriller-mystery): A thriller about a group of Shakespeare actors in their last year of college and one of their classmates who turns up dead. I enjoyed the murder mystery part of this novel more than I expected despite the fact I had guessed who had “done it” pretty early on. I really enjoyed the James-Oliver dynamic with its growing homoeroticism, but I didn’t like how the character of Meredith was handled at all. She felt like a one-note aside. I might have given this book four stars, but the ending was EXTREMELY frustrating for me and I did not like the “open-ended” conclusion. 3 out of 5 stars.
A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman (literary humor): a weird character-driven comedy about an old grumpy man and a new family that moves in next to him. Warning for themes of suicide. Anyway, I don’t normally indulge in cliches like “I laughed, I cried, I loved one Cat Annoyance.” However, that’s exactly what I did. I laughed out loud, I cried my eyes out (THE CAT’S HEAD WAS IN HIS PALM), I loved this book. It was sweet and compelling and thoroughly immersive. 5 out of 5 stars!
The Ten Thousand Doors of January by Alix E. Harrow (historical fantasy): set in the early 1900s comes a story of a young girl and her experience with “Doors” that lead to different worlds. This book had a lot of great character development and really interesting descriptions, however, I didn’t like it as much as I wanted to. I found it hard to get myself to sit down a read it. There was just something missing with the push to “page-turn,” but it was still a really good book. 3.7 out of 5 stars!
Gideon the 9th by Tamsyn Muir (high fantasy, kinda gay): I AM FILLED WITH EMOTIONS. This was book was definitely a page-turner. I was very confused with it at the beginning, but the characters and their interactions were, forgive the expression, the life blood of the story and kept me wholly invested. The ending has CRUSHED my heart, but damn did I have a good time reading it. 4.5 out of 5 stars!
Harrow the 9th by Tamsyn Muir (sequel to Gideon the 9th): I really enjoyed this book. It was just as strange and twisting as the first book, though I think I enjoyed the first one a bit more since I love Gideon. It was fun ride overall, though the ending was kind of really confusing. So 4 out of 5 stars.
The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo (historical fiction): Overall, I really enjoyed this book! The writing style was personable and grounded in reality. I found myself really liking the main characters and the exploration of the life of a bi main character was really well done I thought. A solid book with drama and glamor to boot. 4.6 out of 5 stars!
The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah (historical fiction): A story of two sisters during WWII and their resistance to Nazi occupation. To be honest, this book wasn’t my cup of tea. It was compelling, but also wholly depressing and I felt like gloried in the pain of the two main characters too much. The history was wonderful and realistic, but it didn’t make me feel anything good afterward. It was just dark. 3 out of 5 stars.
Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston (mlm romance): I finally finished this after the heaviness of The Nightingale. This is a story of the First Son of the USA falling for the prince of England. And it turned out to be a very fun and light hearted read! Some of it was kinda generic and too political, and it coulda been shorter, but I thought the romance itself made up for it. It just made me feel so sweet and lovely inside. 4 out of 5 stars!
Anxious People by Fredrik Backman (literary humor): I’m searching out heartfelt books and this one ticked off all the marks on my “sweet” list. A lovely book that made me cry more times than I would like to admit. Compassionate beyond belief, funny and heartfelt. I think I enjoyed A Man Called Ove slightly more, but this book was also dear to me and something I hope to reread in the future. 4.2 out of 5 stars!
Station Eleven by Emily St John Mandel (sci-fi): A post-apocalyptical story about a group of traveling Shakespeare actors and a symphony. Overall, an excellent read that somehow pictures a more realistic or even softer version of the apocalypse. At first, I wasn't happy with the jumping around of the story, but as I progressed I grew fonder and fonder of the interwoven characters and their journey. A very fascinating read about a world that hits a little too close to home. The appreciation of the arts and preserving humanity was somehow very hopeful and I was fully engaged with this story. 5 out of 5 Stars!
Up next: The Hidden Life of Trees by by Peter Wohlleben (nonfiction science), The City We Became by N. K. Jemisin (urban fantasy), The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern (fantasy)
#I'll keep this list updated!#am reading#bookblr#IA talks#I've mostly read books I've really liked this year!#then again I rarely finish books I don't like
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If you are still taking prompts, and were so inclined, 47 for Gideon the Ninth!
I am always so inclined. Enjoy this... this thing. Gets a bit rude because, well, Gideon.
47. “You look like hell.”
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“You look like hell.”
Gideon startles at the sound of Coronabeth Tridentarius actually speaking to her. She sounds more intrigued than judgemental, as if hell were an exotic travel destination she’s not yet been to but is eager to learn more about. Gideon is, not for the first time, grateful for her affected vow of silence as all possibility of coherent thought abandons her tongue. She would surely be a stuttering gay mess if she tried to speak to a woman as beautiful as this particular princess of Ida. With her feigned vow, she can still pull off the “strong but silent” affect and at least somewhat salvage the impression of being a suave badass who’s great with the ladies.
Or she could if she weren’t currently a panting, heaving, sweat drenched, bone dust coated, blood smeared, tattered mess.
It figures that Harrow doesn’t even have to be in the same room with Gideon to have completely ruined her game. Gideon draws herself up to her full height and squares her shoulders - fighting the urge to slump into an exhausted heap on the floor - and straightens her crooked aviators. She hopes that her face paint is still a badass skull and not a runny mess of gray; they’re not big on mirrors down in the facility. Her spine stiffens as Coronabeth steps toward her, smiling like they’re sharing a secret, and brushes one perfect hand lightly at each of Gideon’s shoulders, scattering fine chips of bone onto the floor.
“Poor thing,” Coronabeth purrs, locking Gideon in place with intense eye contact even through her shades. “Your necro’s really running you ragged, isn’t she?”
The last thing Gideon wants to talk about while a beautiful woman is touching her - actually touching her! Okay, touching the shoulders of her robes, but still! - is her screeching ferret of a necromancer. Her distaste must show in her expression even through the caked on layers of sweaty paint because Coronabeth chuckles prettily and squeezes her shoulder - Gideon tenses her sick delts reflexively, desperate to please - and gives her a conspiratorial smirk. “That’s alright. I won’t ask you to divulge any forbidden secrets about the Ninth House or the trials.” She runs clever fingers around the hem of Gideon’s hood - a rumpled heap around her neck, having fallen down as she heaved herself up the ladder from the facility in a hurry to get herself to a sonic - and winks suggestively enough that Gideon swallows hard. “She really must be putting you through the ringer. You know, I feel quite sorry for you cavs sometimes. So much is asked of you, and you get so little in return…”
Gideon has passed out. Surely, this must be what has happened. She’ll wake up in her nest of black blankets with a dirty magazine glued to her face by skull paint and drool, completely covered in sticky notes blackened with Harrowhark’s vitriol. Because it sure as hell feels like Coronabeth - Coronabeth Tridentarius, crown Princess of Ida, hottest necromancer this side of the funny books - is flirting with her. With her. Gideon Nav, indentured servant of the Ninth, perpetually demeaned cavalier primary to her lifelong nemesis, hottest cavalier in history to never touch a boob that wasn’t her own. With her stupid, itchy black robes that still smell faintly of Ortus Nigenad’s flop sweat no matter how many times they’re laundered, with her overgrown and uncombed hair all full of cobwebs and bone dust, with her half-melted face paint of a creepy fucking skull not quite concealing her latest acne outbreak. So there’s no fucking way that this isn’t some delightful dream inspired by too many titty mags before bedtime.
Coronabeth’s hand slides down from Gideon’s shoulder, gliding down the length of her arm - trailing over the firm roundness of her deltoid, the jaw-dropping perfection of her biceps, the corded extensor muscles of her forearms - down to seize her calloused hand with her own surprisingly strong one. “I think you deserve something in return. Don’t you?”
Okay. New thought. Maybe Gideon hasn’t passed out, but she’s probably going to if Coronabeth keeps touching her like this.
Gideon nods very carefully, trying not to let any drool drop from her mouth.
Coronabeth’s smile is as bright as Dominicus. She tugs Gideon’s hand and leads her down an unfamiliar hallway. Gideon follows obediently despite her necromancer’s warnings ringing in her head, shrieking at her to trust no one. Well, Gideon figures, if she’s a lamb being led to the slaughter, at least she’ll die happy. A girl’s holding her hand! Flirting with her! Smiling at her! Touching her muscles!
Much to Gideon’s surprise, she is not promptly jumped and flesh magicked to death upon entry to the Third’s quarters. In fact, as far as she can tell, she’s alone in them with Coronabeth. Sure, she had to offer up a bit of blood to the gross ward on the door, but she’s already bleeding a little bit from her adventures in the facility anyway so that’s no biggie.
She’s relieved to note that there are two big, ostentatious beds in addition to the smaller (but no less ostentatious) cavalier bed at the foot of one. If by some miracle she does get laid today, she’d really rather it not be in a bed that Ianthe Tridentarius has also slept or - God forbid - boned in. Coronabeth hustles her past the beds (dang) toward a large and opulent bathroom. “Here, get washed up.”
A fluffy purple towel is thrust into Gideon’s hands, there’s a gentle shove at her shoulders and the click of a door shutting, and suddenly Gideon is alone in the fanciest bathroom she’s ever seen. It’s even more ridiculous than the one in the Ninth’s quarters. She catches her own reflection in the mirror and finds that she looks every inch as confused as she is. “What the fuck?” she mouths to herself.
“I don’t hear washing happening!” comes Coronabeth’s mellifluous voice sing-songing through the door.
Gideon Nav fancies herself a remarkably strong person, the kind of person who could move mountains barehanded if she set her mind to it. Apparently, she has one fatal weakness: a beautiful woman telling her to do, well, literally anything. So Gideon obligingly scours the paint off her face - Harrow’ll be furious, but Harrow’s always furious and her paint’s a mess anyway - and inspects herself once more in the mirror. Sexy. Hot. Gorgeous. Little bit of acne at the hairline and around the left nostril, bit ruddy-cheeked from over-scrubbing, but still a flawless masterpiece of hotness.
She sniffs her armpits. Pretty sweaty. Are chicks into that? If they’re going to bone (please, please, please) then won’t she get sweaty again anyway?
Wait, are they going to bone? They are, right? They’re alone in Corona’s quarters, her terrifying sister and their insufferable cav have clearly been sent away, and Corona’s super hot and bossing her around and dragging her into her bedroom (well, through her bedroom to her bathroom, but still). If this were one of Gideon’s magazines she'd already be up to her wrist, or at least majorly winning at tonsil hockey. This is literally a textbook scenario for boning.
Okay, then. It’s on. So now what? Should she brush her teeth or something? Her breath’s probably pretty rank after the morning she’s had. Should she, like… shave stuff?
“You may draw a bath, if you like,” Corona calls through the door again. “Ianthe and Babs will be gone for hours. And something tells me that you have never been pampered.”
And so Gideon ends up taking the first ever bath of her life in the gilded bathtub of the Third. She can’t bring herself to fill the tub more than a couple of inches, even though from her skin mags and her comics she knows a bath is usually filled until the person in it is all but drowning, or at least until the bubbles are tastefully covering the good bits (comics) or just barely not covering them (skin mags). She does throw in several of the weird perfumy things hanging out around the tub at Corona’s urging. By the end of it, she’s pretty sure she’s dirtier than when she stepped in except that now she’s filthy with scented soaps and salts and glittery “bath bombs” (surprisingly not that violent but also surprisingly messy) instead of sweat and blood. She scrapes and scrubs at herself and then gives her body and her clothes a good shake out in the sonic for good measure. She borrows some toothpaste and uses her finger as a toothbrush, then rinses with borrowed mouthwash.
There’s a fluffy purple and gold robe that smells a bit like Corona’s perfume and seems the right size, so even though it’s a million miles off from her usual aesthetic she consents to shrug it on. It’s impossibly soft and warm and smooth. Stops a bit short on her thighs, but presumably that won’t get any complaints.
When she steps back out into the Third’s quarters, Gideon feels strangely vulnerable without her protective layer of filth. She smells like a stranger, and her fingertips and toes are wrinkled in a weird way that she assumes has to do with the bath bombs or maybe with how hard she was scrubbing. That, or she’s picked up some freaky skin disease from the Third’s bathtub. She hopes she’s not about to die or something.
Corona looks beyond delighted to see her emerge, ruddy and steaming, from the bathing chamber in her ludicrous little bathrobe. It’s a shame that it’s short on the leg coverage and heavy on the arm coverage, since Gideon’s legs are fucking awesome but not nearly as impressive as her guns. She wants to ask what Corona has planned for her now, but her stupid oath to Harrow stays her tongue. If all goes well, Coronabeth might have a better use for her tongue than words, anyway. So instead she stands there trying to look impressive rather than panicky and overstimulated.
“Come here,” Corona beckons with an elegant finger, her eyes glittering like shards of polished amethyst. Gideon’s pretty sure that Corona’s not using any necromantic tricks on her - she knows what that shit feels like by now, and it’s vastly unpleasant - but she follows her gesture as inexorably as if Corona were looping a leash of thanergy around her throat and dragging her closer.
And then Coronabeth Tridentarius is touching her. Like, pretty much everywhere. “Hmmm, let’s see,” she murmurs thoughtfully as she palpates what feels like every trembling inch of Gideon’s being (apart from the good bits, but maybe this is what foreplay is? she’s heard of it, but her magazines usually skip straight to the main event). Instead of trying to think, Gideon focuses on feeling, which is much more in her wheelhouse.
Corona’s nimble fingers carding through her damp red locks (they could stand a trim), fingernails sending tingles through her scalp as they scratch gently against skin that’s never been touched in kindness before. Fingertips trailing down the strong line of her jaw, gently seizing her square chin and turning her face to every possible angle, her gaze as palpable as her fingers. Strong hands (how does the Princess of Ida have actual calluses on her fingers?) testing her muscles, examining her hands and paying particular attention to her fingernails (they could also stand a trim).
“You look good in my robe,” Corona announces, taking a step back and allowing Gideon to breathe for what feels like the first time since she set foot in her quarters. “Gold suits you.” She locks eyes with Gideon and quirks her lips into a subtle smirk. “Gold suits you very well.”
Gideon swallows hard, trying not to gulp audibly and concentrating on not sweating through her borrowed robe.
“Much better than black. Not that you look bad in black, mind you, but there are other colors that would be much more flattering for your lovely complexion.”
She takes Gideon by the hand and leads her over to an over-decorated table that Gideon observes is overflowing with cosmetics. “For example… Hmmm… Plum?” Corona holds up a tube of something that’s a deep, bruised purple, examining its contrast with Gideon’s skin. “Or perhaps mauve…”
Coronabeth is insatiable. Gideon is left exhausted. When she finally emerges from the Third House’s quarters (very much not laid), hours have passed and she feels as if she has run a marathon. Not from any outward exertion, but from the effort of holding still and keeping silent throughout the whole ordeal.
She is perhaps the most sexually frustrated she has ever been in her life, having never been touched by a woman (and what a woman!) so much before, or really at all before unless she counts herself or the shriveled crones of the Ninth.
She is also… well. Made over. Her hair has been combed and styled, and it reeks of hair gel almost as badly as Naberius Tern’s does on an average day. Her nails have been trimmed, filed, and buffed smooth before being painted a soft lilac and accented with shimmering gold. Her face has been rendered utterly unrecognizable; Harrowhark would likely envy the sheer amount of makeup on it if only it were in the design of a skull rather than whatever peacocky nonsense Coronabeth’s done to it. She is, at least, in her own black robes despite Coronabeth’s best efforts to get her to borrow some of Babs’s gaudy frippery.
She suspects she has, in fact, been fucked by the Third after all.
She slinks down the hall as stealthily as she can manage, thanking her lucky stars that her necro is probably half-dead in a bone or buried up to her pointy little goblin ears in ancient books or possibly both rather than being a normal, decent human being who might give a fuck where her cavalier has vanished off to for hours on end with one of her greatest rivals. She’s hoping that everyone else in Canaan House will be equally preoccupied and that she’ll be able to return to the safety of her chambers with her dignity at least partially intact when she rounds a corner and nearly faceplants directly into the solid mass of Camilla the Sixth.
Gideon draws herself up to her fullest and most imposing posture and tries to mask her humiliation as best she can. Camilla observes her cooly, but Gideon swears her fellow cav is just barely holding back a laugh.
After a small but excruciating eternity in limbo, Camilla steps aside to let Gideon dart gratefully past. Camilla casts a few words over her shoulder as Gideon passes, and they follow her burning ears all the way down the hall and back to her quarters: “You look like hell, Nav.”
#prompt fill#prompt fic#ghost writes#prompt ghost#postfuguestate#gideon the ninth#GtN#gideon nav#coronabeth tridentarius#fanfic
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Learning The Changes
Summary: As Gideon begins to realise her situation is permanent for the moment, it's time for them to go on missions. Sequel to Can I Return This Gift and Days Like This.
Author’s Notes: I’m having fun with this AU, hope you enjoy.
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Gideon looked around confused as Rip parked his car in front of the Palmer Tech store.
“Date night is beginning to look a lot like my day job,” she noted annoyed, making Rip chuckle.
He got out the car and opened the passenger door, taking her hand to help her out, “You’ll like this.”
Smiling as he kept a hold of her hand, Gideon allowed him to lead her towards ‘Hidden Gems’ the rare book shop everyone thought he owned. It was an Argus front that they’d been using as a base for the past few weeks since this whole insanity had begun. Very few people ever came in which meant Rip could work on whatever Argus needed him to do and allowed privacy for them to talk.
“Where are we going?” Gideon asked as Rip led her through the back, to a door she’d never noticed before.
Rip smiled slightly, “The powers that be decided since we were going to be here a while then we need a proper base. They finished it earlier today.”
Before Gideon could ask, he flipped open a panel at the side revealing a number pad. He quickly typed in a six-digit code and the door unlocked.
“Oh my God,” Gideon breathed as Rip led her downstairs into what looked like the bridge of a starship.
“Welcome to our new base,” Rip told her with a smile.
Gideon moved to the multiple screens and slid her hands across the computer.
“Look but don’t touch,” Sara’s voice came from behind them.
“Come on,” Rip touched her arm, “I’ll show you around the rest.”
“What else is there?”
What else there was included a large gym area, cells, an interrogation room, an armoury, a tech room with things Gideon was desperate to get her hands on, a changing room with showers, bunks for the team and a backdoor exit to the Palmer Tech store through Sara’s locker.
“So, what do you think?” Rip asked as they took a seat in the main control room.
Gideon let out a sigh, “I take it this means you’re going to be here for a long time?”
“It means,” Rip took her hand, “That while we’re here we have a proper set up.”
Dropping her head, Gideon whispered, “I suppose so.”
Touching her chin so she would look at him, Rip said, “I know this is hard, but this will be good. It’s a place we can talk without worrying someone will overhear us. Besides, look at this place. As a techie, isn’t this a bit like a dream?”
Gideon smiled, “It is. It reminds me of a ship in my favourite sci-fi shows.”
“Then name it,” Rip told her.
“What?”
He shrugged, “Bases we use normally have a name of some kind, you name this one.”
Biting her lip, she shook her head.
“What would you call your ship, if you had one?” Rip asked.
She hesitated for a moment before replying softly, “Waverider.”
Rip smiled, “Welcome to the Waverider.”
*********************************************
Gideon took a slow breath as Rip offered her his arm as they headed into the gala, the red dress she had been given for the evening was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever worn and when she saw herself in the mirror couldn’t believe how perfectly it fit her. Sara had fixed her hair up, a talent Gideon never suspected the blonde had, before Rip gave her the golden locket she was wearing, telling she needed it to wear it at all times. It turned out that was because it held a tracker so they could always find her. It took the sheen off it a little, but she obediently stood while Rip fastened it around her neck trying not to shiver when his fingertips brushed her skin.
Rip for his part was wearing a tuxedo and looked…Gideon forced herself not to finish that thought.
“Relax,” Rip said softly, “This is a simple mission to look around and find any information we can on the people who stole the formula. All you need to do is walk around the room and if you flash on anyone tell me.”
Gideon frowned at him, “That’s it?”
“See,” he smiled at her, “Simple.”
Nodding she took another deep breath and Rip started them into the main ballroom. As they moved further in, Gideon saw the bar and instantly recognised one of the people behind it. Sara was dressed in a terrible mustard and black uniform with her long blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail while she smiled sweetly at people she was serving. Getting a lot of good tips from what Gideon could see.
“Alright,” Rip said softly, “Do you want something to drink first?”
Gideon nodded.
He escorted her to the bar and flagged down Sara casually.
“What can I get you?” Sara asked with a smile.
“Sparkling water and…” Rip turned to Gideon.
She grimaced, “I’m guessing a wine isn’t a good idea.”
“Two sparkling waters it is,” Sara said.
Rip reached out and took Gideon’s hand, “I understand this is the first time we’ve ever been out in this kind of situation, but you have to relax. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”
Rip could feel how worried Gideon was about tonight. This was the first time that they’d been out in the field, all previous missions they had Gideon watching surveillance camera footage from the van but unfortunately due to the amount of people here tonight the cameras wouldn’t give the coverage they required.
He was trying his best to keep her calm, but not get too close. Gideon looked utterly gorgeous in the dress he’d chosen for her, and he was beginning to think he shouldn’t be the one choosing her outfits. Miranda always used to tease him how he had an eye for fashion and loved every outfit he’d ever found for her.
“Start your walkaround,” Sara hissed at him as she took their glasses, “I want out of here.”
Rip nodded and offered Gideon his arm. She nervously smiled as she took it, and Rip began to walk them around the room.
“Are there a lot of people in this room who could kill me without hesitation?” Gideon asked suddenly.
Rip shook his head, “Don’t think about that.”
She frowned at him.
“Alright,” Rip sighed, “Think about the fact that both Sara and I are trained to protect you instead.”
Gideon looked at him with big eyes, “Okay?”
Shaking his head, Rip started her walking, “If you flash on anyone let me know.”
Gideon sighed in relief as she unzipped the dress and changed into her pyjamas. It had been a long night and not even slightly productive. She’d seen nothing to help which frustrated her. This thing in her head was supposed to make her useful but she’d been worse than useless while shaking in fear throughout the entire evening.
A knock on the window made her jump, and she slowly opened the curtain surprised to see Rip standing there. His bowtie was untied and the top buttons on his shirt open, he looked even better than he did when fully dressed.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently when she opened the window.
“I feel useless,” she sighed, “I was meant to flash on something that would lead you to the bad guys.”
Rip shook his head, “It’s not your fault our intel was bad. And you did well for your first proper mission.”
“I just feel…” she hesitated.
“Hey,” Rip reached out and took her hand, “Listen to me. You are not trained for this, and we are expecting so much but you are doing an amazing job. Trust me.”
Gideon dropped her head, looking up when Rip touched her cheek, his green eyes catching hers, “I don’t even know you.”
Rip sighed, “You know me as well as you need to, Gideon and you know that I will protect you with my life.”
She sighed, “I’m sorry, Rip. I’m just tired.”
“Then get some rest,” he said softly, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
*********************************************
Sara was sitting cleaning some of her weapons when Rip headed down into the Waverider. Glancing at the screen, he could see Gideon at her station within Palmer Tech talking with her best friend.
“She’s fine,” Sara told him as he placed the coffee that he’d brought for her on the table, “Working away like the worker bee she is.”
“Has there been any contact from Waller about what happened last night?” Rip asked as he drank his tea.
Sara shook her head, “Not yet. Are you sure your girlfriend isn’t just glitching?”
“From what we’ve observed of the Intersect,” Rip reminded her, “If Gideon had seen anything then she would have flashed. Our intel must have been wrong.”
Finishing her task Sara took the coffee and frowned in thought, “What if we had her looking at the wrong thing?”
“What do you mean?” Rip asked.
“We assumed the sellers would be there last night,” Sara reminded him, “What if the buyers were there and the sale was set up last night.”
Rip let out an annoyed sigh, “Of course,” he began to type and brought up the surveillance they had from the night before onto the monitors, “What are you thinking?”
Sara moved to his side, “If it’s the same group we think it is then check decorations used. They like to hide symbols.”
Rip nodded and began to scan the screen with one half of the room, while Sara took the other.
“Look at this,” he said after a few minutes, “Do you see the gold patterns on the vases?”
Sara chewed her lip for a moment before she nodded, “Yes, that’s it,” quickly typing a command they waited a few minutes and watched as the system pulled together the information.
“Co-ordinates for a meeting tonight,” Rip said, “We should have known.”
“The meeting spot is in a crowded mall,” Sara told him, “We’ll need the Intersect to spot them within the crowds.”
Rip nodded, “I’ll let her know.”
Walking into Palmer Tech, Rip instantly spotted Gideon talking to a customer. When she finished, Gideon turned and saw him. A smile touched her lips and Rip walked over to her. As they’d agreed, Rip wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed a quick kiss to the side of her mouth. It was as intimate as she was willing to let him be for public appearances, which he understood.
“I need to talk to you,” he murmured, “Can you take your lunch break now?”
Gideon nodded and turned to Cisco who was standing nearby, “Tell Zari I’m taking my lunch just now.”
“No problem,” Cisco waved at her before turning back to continue his sales pitch to the customer he was talking to.
Rip wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the store towards the base. He made sure to stop at the café to pick her up some lunch, while he grabbed a few pastries for the base.
“So,” Gideon said as she took a seat, “I’m guessing something has come up?”
“It looks like last night our friends set up a meet for tonight to sell the formula,” Sara explained bringing up the symbols from the night before, “It’s not something we see often but some groups like to be awkward in the hopes we don’t catch them.”
Gideon nodded, “Then I guess we have another date night tonight.”
“We do,” Rip confirmed, “But on the bright side, as the co-ordinates are the near the cinema then that’s what we’ll tell people we’re going to. It also means, comfortable clothes tonight.”
“And shoes you can run in,” Sara added.
*********************************************
Gideon grimaced as her brothers appeared in her room while she was trying to figure out what to wear for her ‘date’.
“You know,” Gary started.
“You’ve been dating this guy for a month or do,” Gilbert picked it up, “And we’ve been thinking…”
Gary nodded as Gilbert trailed off, “We want to meet him.”
“No.” Gideon told them instantly.
“Gideon…” they both said in unison before having a silent discussion.
Gilbert took the lead, as he normally did, “We just want to meet this guy. Your friends have already met him, and we want to make sure he’s good enough for our baby sister.”
“Especially considering how many nights you’ve been out with him recently,” Gary added.
Gideon rolled eyes, sometimes having two older brothers was helpful, even if they were barely older than she was, but then there were times, like this, she would happily be an only child.
“Fine,” she gave in, “I will ask him for dinner on Saturday night, is that okay?”
They nodded in unison before leaving her alone. Gideon sat on the bed and dropped her head into her hands wondering how her life had become so complicated.
After a few minutes, Gideon shook herself and pulled on the jeans, a blue sweater, and comfortable shoes she decided to wear. Pulling her hair up, Gideon grabbed her bag and started out.
“I’ll ask,” she threw at her brothers as she passed them before leaving their flat.
As always Rip was waiting for her in his car and she slid into the passenger seat, holding on as he sped away.
The mall was busy, and Gideon watched everyone who passed them as they stood at the cinema pretending to work out what they wanted to watch. Rip’s arm was around her waist while he had her set just slightly in front of him, so she could feel him pressed against her.
“Anything?” Sara asked in her ear.
“Not yet,” Rip replied softly, making Gideon bite her lip as his breath ghosted off her ear.
Three men appeared suddenly, all looking as though they’d been found in Thugs-r-Us and Gideon knew instantly they were the men they were after. At her gasp they turned to look at them and Rip tightened his grip on her.
“Laugh,” he whispered in her ear, “Pretend I’ve said something funny.”
“You’ll have to pretend,” Sara noted, “Hunter is not known for his wit.”
Gideon chuckled, catching a slight annoyed look Rip gave at Sara’s words but it worked, and the men ignored them once more.
“They’re heading towards the employees only section,” Rip reported to Sara, “I’ll meet you there.” He turned Gideon, “I need you to go back to the van and wait for us.”
Gideon whispered, “Be careful.”
Rip nodded, “We will be.”
As he slipped through the crowd, Gideon started out the cinema foyer frowning when another man appeared. Smartly dressed, her mind spat out the information that he was a rogue Argus agent called Kinnerton, one who had been turned in by Rip after murdering several of his own people.
“Rip,” she called, frowning as no answer came, “Sara?”
Something had to be blocking the communication and, realising they wouldn’t know about the former Argus agent, Gideon turned and ran towards the door they’d gone through to warn Rip and Sara. Gideon skidded to a halt as she found them in the centre of stacks of chairs she quickly ducked behind surrounded by the three thugs and Kinnerton who was smiling smugly, his gun aimed at Rip’s head.
This was not good.
Rip was seething as he glared at Kinnerton.
Once a prize pupil, the man someone else who had betrayed the beliefs Rip held and had killed several people Rip had trained alongside him. Rip could feel Sara at his side, coiled like a spring ready to attack but she couldn’t because of the guns trained on them.
“I’m here to buy something very special,” Kinnerton chuckled, “And getting to kill you is just the icing on the cake.”
Rip glared at him, he had so much he wanted to say but refused to give the bastard the satisfaction. A flash of movement caught his eyes and Rip realised Gideon was hiding behind some of the chairs. From Sara’s unclenching and re-clenching of her fist he knew she’d seen Gideon too. The Intersect was their priority so no matter what they had to get her out of here.
“I always wondered,” Rip suddenly spoke up, “What made you turn on Argus. What made you turn against the people who had worked with you for all that time but honestly I can see why now.”
Kinnerton frowned, “And why is that?”
“Because you know that you’re not exceptional,” Rip replied, “Like the others were, you rode on their coattails and when you knew they were going to surpass you, you couldn’t handle it. Because you are worthless.”
As Rip finished, Kinnerton let out an enraged cry and lunged towards him. Rip grabbed his arm and twisted as Sara attacked the three henchmen. Slamming his elbow into the other man’s face, Rip grimaced as Kinnerton flew towards the stack of chairs where Gideon was hiding.
Before she could run away Kinnerton grabbed her. Rip hesitated, and a smug smile touched the other man’s lips.
“Oh, I thought she was just a civilian in the wrong place,” Kinnerton laughed as he gripped Gideon’s throat tightly, “But she means something to you Hunter. I can tell. I’ve seen that look in your eyes before.”
“Let her go,” Rip snarled.
Kinnerton chuckled, “I might,” he leaned in and smelled her hair, “But she’s so pretty. I bet she’ll provide me with a lot of fun.”
Before Rip or Sara could do anything, Gideon’s face set and she slammed her elbow into the stomach of the man, as he gasped Gideon kicked him in the ankle, threw her head back to hit Kinnerton on his nose before hitting him in the groin with her fist.
As he doubled over in pain, Gideon ran to Rip allowing Sara to deal with Kinnerton as he moved her out of the room.
“I’m sorry,” Gideon babbled as Rip walked her back to the van in silence, “I know you wanted me to get out of there, but you weren’t answering your comms and I needed to warn you he was here.”
“It’s okay,” Rip said softly, “But you have to remember our job is to protect you, not the other way around.”
Gideon shook her head, “I know but…” she shrugged, “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Wrapping his arm around her, Rip gave Gideon a tight comforting hug. Letting her go he smiled, “You didn’t need our help, where did you learn to do that?”
“Ray set up self-defence classes a few years ago,” Gideon shrugged, “I had forgotten about it until just now.”
“Well, I have a feeling Sara is going to set up some training after seeing you in action,” Rip told her.
Blushing Gideon smiled slightly, “Does this mean we’re finished for tonight?”
“Sara will have contacted the clean-up team, she’ll co-ordinate with them so you’re free for the night,” Rip told her.
Gideon grimaced slightly but before she could say anything else he continued.
“Since we’ve told everyone that we’re going to see a movie tonight,” Rip noted, “We could go see one.”
“Sounds good,” Gideon smiled before she added, “And it will give me some time to persuade you to come for dinner on Saturday with my brothers.”
Rip’s eyebrow raised.
“They want to meet you and they’re beginning to annoy me about it,” she told him, “It would sell us dating as well and make my life slightly easier.”
Rip nodded, “Of course. I’ll be there but first,” he offered her his hand, “What do you want to go see?”
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aaaand we are back back again with malec livewatch! you can read the first and second parts before if you wanna, or filter out “malec livewatch” if ur tired of this absolute bullcrap
yes i know it’s been years. not my fault okay i was studying
today: post-wedding 1×12! and finally freedom from the terrors of s1
forever a slut for that scene where Magnus just does that hand movement and a bunch of shit starts showing up in the conveniently empty table ugh we stan. imagine if the special effects had been this good all the time they really used up 10 out of their 15 dollars and all the two favors from cousin Mike for this one. 1×12 was so inspired tbh only valid episode
Alec's clothes look so much better without the stupid ugly blazer? could do without the high waisted pants (why) but he looks so much better and also more comfortable. again i hope the costume department staff got a big, fat paycheck because the difference we see in him during the wedding vs post-wedding alone is just insane. he looks so much better and more comfortable and more himself, the blazer made him look stiff and again DOESNT MATCH THE REST. also nice touch that the blazer is the only part of his clothing with gold, the sh wedding color. he gets that off and everything looks so much better
Magnus looks even better post wedding too. like the clothing is already *chef's kiss* but he looks even prettier afterwards somehow. the hair is a little softer and he's less stiff as a whole (for obvious reasons), and aaaa hes so beautifulllll he's so prettyyyy look at his perfect soft little hair falling softly over his head and the PINK STREAKS possibly the best Magnus look i said what i said. especially with him all soft and smiley like that i big love him
sexiest thing about Magnus is how Jace does anything and hes like NO BITCH
the way he says "warlock tracking is stronger" with that smile......... hes so prety
that's a deep inhale he makes before using the tracking spell lmao u ok buddy?
oof i can only imagine how he felt when he was doing the tracking and he was suddenly hit with an image of Camille screaming and hitting in his direction,,,....,,,,,,, Fuck
love how Raphael just locked her in the basement thats so sexy of him we stan
"i punched her there's no way she'll help me" ugh still salty that clary of all ppl got to punch her but not Raphael or Magnus fuck this tbh
STOP MAKING ME LOOK AT CLACE
they both look so giddy and happy to be talking after the whole wedding thing + camille drama like don’t look at me. alec can barely look at magnus because he’s so agitated but you have the smile on his face and magnus is also smiling disbelievingly and i just doaudjsuoiadsa i love they
seriously tho the way magnus smiles..... so private and disbelieving but also so obvious and he’s even looking down like he never expected stuff to go down this well..... bro i stan
i had forgotten about the specific cadence in which alec talks? lmao. there’s a certain tilt to his voice when he says “it’s so INTENSE” that i really love
also that’s a really funny line like honey who the fuck are you to complain about anything being intense. ur the most dive or die bitch in this entire building. and we stan
alec’s WIDE ASS SMILE when magnus says “you certainly know how to make a statement” I CRY. magnus looks so proud of him and still disbelieving that alec went this hard for him and alec is just still on cloud 9 that he really Did That and came out and magnus is just proud of him and wow he really gets to have this and duahdsudhsadajsas???? i adore everything about them
the way maryse shows up and magnus immediately recoils and alec immediately straightens up like magnus is lowkey expecting rejection and alec is just bracing himself for one of the hardest fights of his life
also their expressions are so funny like maryse is LIVID she’s absolutely losing her mcfucking mind with anger homegirl’s head is about to explode and robert is just looking like he pissed on the carpet or something
the way alec doesn’t back down at all is so admirable too like!!!! it’s one thing to make a big fuck you gesture, it’s another to still hold your ground against your abusers after that fact. but he really stands there and goes “this isn’t about you” “i’m the same person i’ve always been” and doesn’t give her an inch of room for clownery. like again once alexander gideon lightwood makes up his mind there’s no stopping him and there’s no going back and he’s just so fucking strong??? he really said “from now on i’m out and you’re going to absolutely deal with that and i will not compromise a single thing” and the lightwoods just had to deal with that lmaoooo
you can see it in maryse’s face too, like after the “i’m the same person i’ve always been” she just pauses, realizing that she lost this battle without even knowing, she was on top of it a second ago and now there’s nothing she can do anymore and she’s just shook. and all that’s left for her is to scoff at magnus and leave, because that’s it, she lost every hold she had on him
alec’s little mouthed “what?” at “and all for a downworlder” too. i think part of him was like “wow she’s backing down already?” because you know he expected this to be a lot harder i think lmao. but i also like to think that there’s a side of “mom what the fucking fuck have you seen him he’s gorgeous and kind and smart and amazing and literally the best person i could have fallen in love with but go off i guess”
robert going all “just give her time” like he doesn’t understand what’s happening here at all. he clearly plays the “good cop” in the lightwood’s abusive dynamic tbh, like people often brush him off as being just spineless but i honestly think that he’s just the other side of her manipulative coin. specially with izzy, like, when izzy said fuck it and completely let go of maryse’s hold on her? that’s where robert came in, being the accepting, “nice” parent who listened to her and cared, and making sure she’d keep her loyalties. because he didn’t really stand up for izzy either and in the end he kept her still glued to the lightwood family through that, and kept defending maryse and izzy listened to him because he was robert. and i think that’s what’s happening here too, him trying to frame this as “don’t worry, she’ll come around” because he knows right then that alec is absolutely going to turn their back on them if that’s what it takes for her to be happy so he immediately slides in and reframes this under an affection light where everything will be alright! even if honestly i don’t think that’s what alec is really thinking about at all, i think he was 100% ready for a showdown
and robert is clearly so disapproving and yikes at the whole thing too but he pretends he isn’t and like lmao
shoutout to their faces when robert asks “are you two in love?” like magnus just turns around like oh hell no we’re not gonna have this conversation and alec lights up for just a second with a small smile before he’s like wait wait no shit shit shit we’ve just met no of course there’s no love (and like... i don’t think there is per se, because i think love is something that takes longer to settle in, specially for alec, but i think the idea that he could talk openly about being in love with a man and even fall fully in love with magnus one day makes him super happy you know?) lmao dorks
tho tbh i think magnus shuts down that conversation immediately to avoid heartbreak. because i think that for this whole thing he was expecting alec to say something he’d hate hearing to get his parents’ approval, you know? like like i said it’s really unexpected and surprising/inspiring that alec didn’t back down an inch there, and i think he was expecting alec to kind of fall back slightly now, like, he played his cards and now he would negotiate with them, you know? find a place to make them comfortable. instead alec gives them a complete fuck you and he’s like... damn obviously super pleased but also waiting for the other shoe to drop
he just steps in like “pls no” and stops that conversation right there
the way alec takes a deep breath and magnus opens his mouth then closes again quickly not knowing what to say and then changes the subject.... he’s really so scared of this talk and i just aaa
alec literally never fucking stops going from magnus’ eyes and lips in quick succession like alec. alec please. stop being horny for just a second man. please alec i’m begging you
it’s so cute how magnus mentions a date and alec is immediately like “hell YEAH we should do that” no hesitation like he’s 100% ready to leave immediately right now (i see his pause between “wanna... i don’t know, get a drink?” and “....sometime?”, i see it, you can’t fool me alexander) and also the fact that his first suggestion is something that he hates but that he knows for a fact magnus likes is so cute, like he immediately goes for magnus’ interests here and we stan
i also think that he’s come to associate drinking = dates after 1x06 and the way magnus called him specifically for a drink before he showed up too, like... it’s cute how he immediately came to associate those things because of magnus and just jumps into that because that’s what he knows. he’s so eager and like good for him
magnus’ SMILE when he says that like bro he can see how stoked alec is to go on a date with him they are adorable he is so fucking HAPPY i doubt he expected such a great outcome from this and yet here they are
ALEC DOES THE WHOLE LOOKING AT HIS LIPS IN QUICK SUCCESSION THING ONE LAST TIME BEFORE THE SCENE ENDS SHUT UP OH MY GOD HE NEVER STOPS. MATT DADDARIO THANK YOU FOR MY RIGHTS
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Chapters: 1/1
Words: 1555
Fandom: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Characters: Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Gideon Nav
Additional Tags: Autumn, Established Relationship, Foliage, Picnics, Post-Canon, Post-Alecto, Banter, sort of but not really a wedding, perfect lyctorization, lyctor? i barely know her, One Shot, Victory Tour
Series: Part 4 of snapshots of autumn
Summary:
Part of the snapshots of autumn series, which tells stories of ladies in love during autumn, this story can be read independently.
Harrow and Gideon have won against God after several years of hardship apart. They deserve some time alone. Harrow grumps. Gideon frolics. The end.
Story:
“Holy shit, I’ve never seen this much color in my life,” Gideon groaned, head whipping every which way as if she’d miss something if she wasn’t looking at everything at once.
Harrow rolled her eyes and flapped her arms, hoping for a breeze. It was too warm, and the sun beat on her dark hair, making her sweat in her black robes. Gideon had stripped down to a tank and trousers in the shuttle, leaving her robe in a messy pile on Harrow’s seat.
“Are you frolicking?” asked Harrow, absolutely zero percent surprised, but feeling like she needed to at least make an effort at being annoyed. Gideon once said her resting bitch face was one of the things she loved most about her, so she tried to make it at least once a day. Gideon had argued that the point of RBF was its natural state, but she’d kissed Harrow anyway, then promptly wiped her mouth and “yeched” at the paint that had stuck to her lips.
read the rest under the cut
“Why shouldn’t I frolic?” Gideon yelled, halfway across the meadow they’d landed in. “We’re the good guys that beat the bad guys. We deserve a victory tour, adoring fans, parades, music lauding our heroic deeds.”
“Then why are we in a garish field on a foreign planet by ourselves?” Harrow pulled her robes away from her neck in hopes of coaxing a breeze to cool things down. The only thing it coaxed was a whiny bug that bit her on the back. “Ugh.”
“Because you don’t like crowds or music or anything fun, oh night mistress of zero fun.”
“So you brought me to hot meadow filled with bugs, sun, and bright colors? Are leaves even meant to have that many colors? I thought they were all green.”
“We did the dank and dead church thing yesterday. My turn to pick. And it’s not hot, it’s just a little warm from the sun. Also, Camilla said the colors were fantastic here this time of year. It’s called autumn.”
“I know what autumn is, dumb ass.” Harrow crossed her arms over her chest, even though it was far too warm to have anything touching.
Gideon sighed dramatically, made a final prance, then loped over to skid to a halt in front of Harrow, who raised an eyebrow. Gideon simply grinned.
“What are we doing here?”
“Looking at pretty colors! Have ever seen red this deep? Orange this bright? Gold this glimmering?” She waved her hand at the nearby trees at the edge of the meadow.
“Yes, I saw red this deep yesterday evening when you pricked your thumb while testing your blade. I see orange this bright always when I look at your ridiculous hair, and gold this glimmering every time I look in the mirror.”
Gideon winked one her own now-black eyes, which still threw Harrow off. At least they were the familiar black of the Ninth, and not the creepy oil sheen of God’s own. Thank God (no pun intended) that Gideon shared very little physically with her birth father, apart from their brown skin. And the horrendous sense of humor, but that wasn’t physical and therefore could be ignored by tuning the woman out. Which happened less these days, as Harrow was still so grateful to once again be able to talk to Gideon face to face, no longer parted by the River or physical distance.
“Come on.” Gideon grabbed Harrow’s hand, hauled her back to the shuttle, where she rummaged around until she reappeared with her robes and a knapsack that she slung onto her back. She grabbed Harrow’s hand again and this time hauled her to a nearby stand of trees, where she threw her rumpled robes onto the shaded ground in a sort of flat manner, then pulled the two of them down on top of it.
“Nav! You’re going to ruin your robes.”
“Better mine than yours. Although, you really should take those off. You’re going to roast. And there’s no need for roasting, I already think you’re hot.”
Harrow’s glower was hot enough to start a fire, but Gideon just laughed.
“Come on! We are the champions! Take a load off. Eat some lunch. Enjoy the views!”
“The colors are making my eyes hurt.”
But the protest was half-hearted. It was hard not getting caught up in Gideon’s enthusiasm. After the past couple of years, they deserved a break from the madness, and although this was so not her scene, she had to admit it was a nice change from space and people and death. She closed her eyes to feel the thalergy of an un-flipped planet, safe from future run-ins with Resurrection Beasts. The life wriggling around her was an unfamiliar shock, even after all the time she had spent flipping thalergy to thanergy during her training. It was nice to not think about wading into the disgusting, brackish waters of the River and taking all of this away. It was nicer seeing Gideon happy and goofy and alive, even if her eyes still weirded Harrow out. A small price to pay to have the person who understood her best back by her side. Forever. Well, for myriads at least. The perks of perfect lyctorization. This terrible meadow didn’t even seem that bad when she put it in that context.
Gideon sprawled on her side and leaned on an elbow as she dug through the knapsack, materializing a few half-smooshed sandwiches, apples, two bottles of something, and a box strong enough to come out of the knapsack unscathed.
“White bread, no crusts, bland tofu and cheese for Miss Picky,” Gideon dropped the sandwich in front of Harrow’s crossed legs, “and a gorgeous everything sandwich for me.” She kissed the package before unwrapping and taking a big bite, some sort of pink sauce dripping down her chin. She grinned. “Eat! And for Me’s sake, take off the damned robes. You’ll sweat out any calories otherwise. Plus, I have to sit with your stinky ass the whole way back in the shuttle.”
Harrow pinched the bridge of her nose. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not God. You can’t curse in your own name, Griddle.”
“God, daughter of God.” Gideon shrugged. “Same same.”
“Not remotely. Thank- somebody.”
“Thank me.”
“Definitely not.”
“Please, Harrow?”
“I’m not thanking you.”
Gideon waved a dismissive hand and furrowed her brow. Harrow knew that furrow. It meant she was about to be mother henned. “Not that. I mean, please relax. Eat. Enjoy the colors. Soon enough we’ll be back on dreary Ninth. Home sweet hole-in-the-planet. You’ll be busy running the House, I’ll be … I dunno, posing for tourists to feel my amazing biceps? Re-enacting the battles I fought in? Whatever.” She looked remarkably serious for once. “I just wanted us to have a little time to ourselves, before things get crazy again.”
Despite the solemnity, Harrow felt a grin lift a corner of her mouth. “This isn’t a victory tour. This is a honeymoon, isn’t it, Griddle?”
“What? No. Not- No.” Gideon looked away, scratching the back of her neck. “Just, ya know, some … quiet time.”
“What if I want it to be?”
Gideon whipped her head back around, eyes wide. “You’d want– But it’s– We’re not married.”
It was Harrow’s turn to pretend nonchalance. She shrugged. “Well, it’s just that there aren’t too many immortal people in the universe, and you’re the only one I can stand. I’m not about to go search out another partner, just after I got you trained up.”
A suddenly shy smile played at Gideon’s ever expressive mouth. “You like Pal and Cam well enough.”
“At a distance. I’m happy sending letters and visiting on occasion. But you’ve been by my side most of our lives. It’d be weird for you to leave.” Starting to panic after showing her hand, Harrow began to backtrack. “That is, if you want to. I know you hate the Ninth. And you have friends scattered all over. I’m sure you want–”
Her mouth was stopped by another mouth, warm and soft and comforting yet somehow exciting.
“Yes.” The words were whispered against her lips before the kissing began anew. Having this, for eternity, Harrow could get used to.
They eventually fell back onto a robe-covered ground softened by leaves that crunched. Harrow looked up into the fiery canopy above them as Gideon traced soft squiggles up and down her bare arm (yes, she’d finally removed the robe). The orange really was remarkably close to Nav’s hair. She could finally see the beauty in it that Gideon had seen upon landing. She didn’t want it forever, but for now, it was … very nice.
“So,” Gideon whispered into her ear. “I just realized that as your cavalier primary, and us being basically married, I can now say that I–”
“Don’t you dare, Nav. I had to hear it from Magnus already. I do not need an encore to that terrible joke.”
Gideon cackled and kissed Gideon’s cheek. “You’re no fun.”
🍁🍂🍁
Forever perfectly preserved on Harrow’s desk was a black metal frame, the clear plex displaying three leaves—one as red as blood, another gold as coins (or eyes), and the last the same riotous orange of Gideon’s hair. When asked what they were for, Gideon always answered first: “a marriage certificate.”
#locked tomb trilogy#gideon/harrow#harrow/gideon#fanfic#ficlet#autumn#autumn mood#meagan writes#ao3#wlw#f/f#griddlehark
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Summary: Everybody in Storybrooke knew there was something wrong with the mysterious landlord, Mr. Gold, but nobody knew what. The truth was that behind the salmon walls of his big house lived two young children, whose curse he was desperately trying to break, as he looked helplessly for clues of what happened to their mother.
Notes: Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon A Time or any of the characters and storylines in the show. This is just a fanwork made for fun.
So, I wasn't supposed to be starting another fic, but I had this crazy dream and I just had to write it down. I have such a cool story in my head now and I really hope everyone can enjoy it with me!
Chapter 1
It all started like a dream. She came into his life out of nowhere, impossible as it was, bringing the magic with her. Ian Gold was never the same again. He used to think about his time with her as a blur, too fast and too overwhelming to be true, the kind of perfect period of life that you can’t believe existed if you don’t have anything to prove it was real. Gold would think himself delusional if he didn’t have two beautiful proves to assure him every single day that everything he lived with Belle wasn’t a product of his twisted mind.
He missed her. For weeks after she disappeared his life was condemned to searching for clues that could lead him to his beloved, but Belle was never found and then, came the curse. Ian wouldn’t have noticed, if Rose hadn’t started acting strangely. She had always been a sweet girl, very bubbly and cheerful, just like her mother, but when she started to get quiet and stay near to the water tank on their backyard, he knew something had changed.
Gideon was the next to start staring at it as if he was hypnotized and then, one day, all of the sudden, he found them laying inside of it, eyes fixed on the sky above them. For a moment, he freaked out, until he noticed the gills on the side of their necks and the purple light surrounding them that he understood what was happening. He tried to wake them from the spell, many, many times, but it was only when the sun was set that both his children were released from it.
They talked about the amazing palace in which they had spent the whole day playing and about the beautiful doll that couldn’t talk but that held their hands and looked after them whist they played. Rose then related that came a woman and told her that she and her brother must stay in the water from lunchtime to sunset every single day of their lives otherwise, they would die.
He couldn’t let that happen, of course, so he made sure that his sweet five-year-old girl and two-year-old boy would be in the tank as the sorceress – or whatever that woman was – instructed. That, unfortunately meant that he spent all the day without his children, trying to find an answer that could reunite his family and break that curse. However, Gold was only a normal man, he didn’t know this magical world in which his Belle lived and he didn’t have much resources. He had fallen in love with a mermaid, now he was paying the price of it.
Six years ago.
Gold had never been a fan of the sea. He didn’t know why he found himself sat by the water that day, but maybe it had something to do with the fact Milah, his ex-wife, had called him drunk in the middle of the day to brag about how wonderful her new boy-toy was in bed. Way better than he ever was, she made sure to remark. It made Gold feel sick, he wasn’t missing her even a bit, but he also didn’t want her to keep calling just to bother him now that their relationship was over.
His trousers were full of sand and he had taken off his suit jacket and tie, something he very rarely did in public. Gold threw his head back, allowing the sunlight to bath his face, the new warmth, giving him some kind of hope he hadn’t felt for a long time.
“Are you alright?” A strange, but lovely voice asked from somewhere near him.
When Gold looked back, he saw that a beautiful brunette was standing there, wearing only a blue bikini and a pair of sunglasses. She was like a vision from Heaven. He had never seen her around town, never, and Gold knew everyone, so he wondered when that ethereal goddess had arrived town and why he had missed it.
“Aye,” he answered. “I was just thinking.”
The woman smiled fondly at him, taking a seat by his side. No one enjoyed his company, no one. Usually people would never approach him if they didn’t have to, this was very new for Gold. He was pretty sure that he was staring at the young lass like a fool, but the way she kept grinning so sweetly at him didn’t help Ian to get any less spell-bounded.
“Oh, I know how is that, I like to get alone to think very often too. I hope I’m bothering you.”
“No! Of course, not,” he said, way too quickly. “You know, I have never seen you around… I’m Ian Gold, the landlord of most properties in this town, so if you need a place to stay, I could help with that.”
Tilting her head, the girl took off her sunglasses, revealing a pair of gorgeous blue eyes of deep and dark colour, the same one he was seeing a minute ago when he stared at the sea. Gold couldn’t’ look away from her, it was like she was a siren and he was a stupid pirate, enticed by her spell.
“I can’t go very far away from home, but I would love for you to show me this beautiful town,” she answered. “I’m Belle, by the way.”
“Belle,” Gold said slowly, testing the sound of her name in his lips. “I would love to show you Storybrooke.”
She touched his cheek then and, for a moment, her eyes seemed to show some sadness that he didn’t really understand where could have come from, but Belle was touching him, so Ian was too distracted to keep wondering too long about that. The brunette caught a strand of his hair between her fingertips and leaned forward, smelling his scent.
“You’re not going to tell anyone about me,” Belle whispered. “They will forget they saw us, you won’t, but you also won’t speak.”
“Yes, sweetheart,” he agreed like a fool. “Anything you want.”
Belle pulled away from him and stood up, holding out a hand for Gold to take. He didn’t quite know what he was doing and he would have no idea what he was getting himself into for a really long time. For now, he was only going to get more and more bewitched by that strange woman, until he found himself helplessly in love with her, willing to do anything to have her in his life forever.
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Next Gen HP Looks
James Sirius Potter; “Jamie”, “Jay”, “Jay-Jay”
6′4 height. Photogenic. Muscular and lanky. Messy thick shiny black hair in Cole Sprouse’s haircut. Perfect jaw and cheekbones. Plump lips. Great bone structure. Light freckles everywhere, specially on his nose, cheeks, shoulders and back. Olive skin, he gets extremely tan during summer. Can actually pull and grow facial hair, which it is more reddish than black. Teeth white af. Handsome and cheeky smile, with adorable dimples on each cheek. ‘Potter’ perfect smirk. Always smiling. His eyes are almond shaped and a light honey colour with some gold hints. Long fingers, perfect for playing the guitar and the piano. Gorgeous. Tallest guy at school. Looks like a mix of Harry, Ginny and James Potter Senior. Extremely handsome and good-looking.
Albus Severus Potter; “Al”, “Albs”, “Albie”
6′1. Photogenic. Black shiny hair, quite short. Cheekbones for days. Olive skin, but he can’t get a tan, tho. Emerald Green eyes. Muscular, beater type, with broad shoulders. He doesen’t have lots of freckles, only a few single ones in his arm and one over his left brow. Sharp features. Ironic smile. ‘Potter’ perfect smirk. Can rock a Sherlock Holmes costume. Looks great in Green and black. White teeth and a dimple in his right cheek. Extremely expressive face. Can raise a brow. Eyebrows on fleek. Looks a lot like Harry, but you can see a bit of Arthur Weasley on him. Very good-looking like his brother and attractive.
Lily Luna Potter; “Lila”, “Lily Lu”, “Lil”
5′8. Photogenic af. Dark red hair, that used to reach her bellybutton, but she choped it into a lob. Naturally skinny and slender, she has a thin hourglass figure. Legs for days. Almond shaped Green eyes, but instead of being emerald, the Green is more like an avada kedavra green. Thick eyelashes and red brows. Round-squared face shape, like her mum. She looks a hell lot like Natalie Portman. Perfect bone structure. Olive skin, Lily can easily tan. She has freckles on her nose, shoulders, boobs and hips, and then she has freckles and moles separated, creating constellations through all her body. She also has a single freckle over her lip, at the right, just like Marilyn Monroe, which Fleur loves. Her extremely pink and full lips are her signature look, usually painted a cherry red. She’s a blend of a lot of Lily Evans and some of Ginny Weasley. Sassy smile, Potter perfect smirk, cheeky smile with dimples. ‘Quite the little heartbreaker. Drop dead gorgeous and seductive, with a sweet delicate voice. A beauty.
Victoire Apolline Weasley; “Vic”, “Vicky”, “Toire”
5′6 and a half. Model looks. Long glossy golden blonde hair that used to be more reddish as a kid. Light freckles all over her face. Big bright pale blue eyes. Quite tan skin during summer. Her hair is fabulous and her skin is shiny af. Full pink lips and the cutest nose ever. Round-squared face shape. Great bone structure. Dimples. Always painted nails. Model Slim figure. Sweet and kind smile. Never wears make up even though she loves it. She looks like a blend of classical beauty and california girl. She has her veela charm and she’s crazy beautiful.
Dominique Belle Weasley; “Dom”, “Nick”, “Dommie”
5′9. Long wavy pale blonde hair, dyed baby pink (she changes her hair colour every year). Big ocean blue eyes. Freckles on her face but she covers them. Sarcastic smirk. Cute smile. Long legs and arms. Skinny figure. Ears pierced and a small tattoo on the back of her neck. Pretty pink plump lips. Perfect soft skin. Sharp and dark eyeliner and fabulous black smokey eye, like Effy Stonem. Rocks a leather jacket like no one else. Grunge and rock ‘n roll style. Can eat a lot of fast food without gaining weight. Pale skin, she can’t get a tan. Cheekbones and collarbones. Relaxing smile. Veela charm. Fucking extremely pretty.
Louis Charles Weasley; “Lou”, “Louie”, “Lous”
6 feet tall. Gold blonde hair, lighter in the tips because of the sun. Ocean blue eyes, like Dominique. Perfect eyebrows. Grateful that he’s blonde and not ‘another ginger’. Muscular without playing Quidditch. Freckles only on his feet. Dimples. Broad shoulders. Can’t grow facial hair. Baby soft skin. Uses a lot his veela charm. He’s very attractive and he knows it.
Rose Jean Granger-Weasley; “Rosie”, “Ro”, “Posie”
5′5. Middle back lenght copper hair. Big, chocolate brown eyes, like her mum. Thick eyelashes. Button nose. Great eyebrows. Petite frame. Pretty and cute. Her body is fully covered with freckles. They are everywhere. Perfect nail shape. Small hands. Very fair skin, if she isn’t wearing sunscreen, she burns. Pink heart shaped lips. Heart-shaped face. Clumsy but graceful. She looks a lot like Hermione.
Hugo Billius Granger-Weasley; “Hugh”, “Huey”, “H”
6′2 and a half. Curly brown hair. Pale blue eyes. Tall and lanky. Dark freckles all over his face, and loads of them on his nose. Not too muscular. His dad’s nose, his mum’s and Rose’s mouth. Heart-shaped face. Very long arms. Fair skin, with the dark freckles. On his body, they aren’t a lot of them but they’re everywhere. Bushy eyebrows. A cute blend of Hermione and Ron.
Molly Anne Weasley; “Molls”, “Annie”, “Moll”
5′5 and a half. Soft Copper hair. Pale blue eyes. Thin red lips. Long bangs. Few freckles on her cheeks and arms. Long fingers. Button nose. Really cute. She can raise a brow. Perfect teeth after a year of brackets. Ivory skin. Can’t get a tan. Needs sunscreen every day. Perfect body.
Lucy Audrey Weasley; “Luce”, “Lulu”, “Lu”
5′3. Shoulder lenght dark copper hair. Large Coffee Brown eyes. Bushy eyebrows. Thin lips. Athletic figure due to Quidditch. Fit legs and butt. Fair skin. Freckles on her back, because when she plays Quidditch is where the sun mostly reaches her. Quite cute. Big bright smile. Her nails are always short, because she bites them. Heart of gold.
Frederick Gideon Weasley; “Freddie”, “Freds”, “Freddo”
6feet tall. Copper hair. Carmel skin. Very bushy eyebrows. Dark Hazel blue eyes. Few almost invisibe freckles on his nose and forehead and lots of them on his arms. Builder built. Broad shoulders and muscular. Big hands. Imperial nose. Strong jaw. Cocky happy grin. He looks like KJ Apa, but with natural ginger hair.
Roxanne Kate Weasley; “Rox”, “Roxy”, “Katie”
5′4. Glossy wild ebony black hair. Dark skin. Fabulous hourglass figure. Full lips, always with lip gloss. Big dark blue eyes. Thick eyelashes. Pearl White teeth. Freckles on her face. Stunning. Photogenic. Cheeky grin. Looks like Angelina with some Weasley in her.
Edward Remus Lupin; “Teddy”, “Ed”, “Teddy Bear”
6′1. He always wears his hair turquoise but its natural color is a mousy Brown. Dark blue eyes. Eyebrows on fleek. Quite muscular. Clumsy af. Fair skin but he’s able to tan. Remus’ looks with Tonks’ metamorphomagi.
Note: English isn’t my first language so if there are any mistakes, plz don’t roast me.
#James Sirius Potter#lily luna potter#Albus Severus Potter#dominique weasley#rose weasley#hugo weasley#lucy weasley#molly weasley ii#fred weasley ii#roxanne weasley#victoire weasley#louis weasley#teddy lupin#harry potter next generation#next gen harry potter#next gen hp
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Prompt: On a Rumbelle family outing to a beach in the Enchanted Realms, young Gideon discovers a Psammead, or Sand Fairy, who offers to grant him one wish.
OUaT: Anniversary Fic the 2nd
It’s a gorgeous day to be out on a secluded beach bathed insunshine that shimmers on softly lapping turquoise waves. Weeks of travel have been a wonderfuladventure, but the Gold family is more than ready for some peace andquiet. Rumpelstiltskin has alreadynodded off, sprawled in the colorful beach chair he conjured. Belle is already buried in a long-neglectedbook, though one eye periodically checks on young Gideon, who is consumed in theconstruction of a sand castle several steps away, a few toys scattered aroundoverseeing his progress.
He’s just scooped up another handful to make a new towerwhen he notices an eyeball peering up at him from within the sand. The eyeball rises on a stalk and blinks atGideon curiously. The boy blinks back,then scoops away more sand, revealing a furry brown face with large ears.
“Hi,” says Gideon.
“Good day,” the creature replies, “Welcome to my beach.”
“It’s nice here.”
“Thank you, I agree. Are you a visitor?”
Gideon nods. “We’retraveling. Mama and Papa and me.”
“How nice. And whatis your wish?”
Gideon tilts his head with a frown. “My wish?”
“Yes, lad. It is thePsammead’s privilege to dispense wishes to those they meet. Though our magic only lasts until tomorrow’ssunrise.”
“My papa’s magic lasts forever,” Gideon remarks with pride.
The eyeball stalks move in two counterclockwisecircles. “How lovely. Your wish, young sir?”
“Umm, I want...” Gideon’s gaze wanders to a toy next to him. He grins. “Make me a lizard.”
The Psammead sucks in a breath.
“Make it big.”
It sucks in more breath.
“And blue, with rainbow feathers, and five- no, sevenhorns!”
The sand shifts as the Psammead continues to inflate.
“And six eyes! Andyellow teeth! And red hands! And big orange wings!”
From her seat, Belle calls, “What did you say, Gideon?”
The boy turns to tell her about his new friend, but hiswords are stolen by an enormous burst of magic.
He whips around to find the Psammead has disappeared. Then a strange roar from above pulls hisattention to the sky. A speck among thewhite clouds grows into exactly what he described, down to the number ofhorns. The horse-sized creature landsheavily on the beach, rolling its many eyes and dragging red claws through thesand. Gideon cheers and claps hishands. His parents jump to their feet andrace toward him.
The creature’s leathery wings flare and it snaps yellow jawsin their direction.
“What the hell is that?!” Belle shouts.
“I have no idea,” Rumpelstiltskin says, hands already raisedand glowing, “But it’s going away now.”
“No!” Gideon cries and runs to the creature.
“GIDEON!” Belle screams in terror, but instead of attackingthe boy, the creature curls around him when he hits its side and buries hisface in its kaleidoscopic feathers. Atangerine-colored wing moves over Gideon, shading him from the sun.
“It’s mine,” he says plaintively, “My friend made it forme.”
“What friend?” Rumpelstiltskin asks, voice tense. He casts a look around the beach, thenstrides to a patch of sand, blasting it away to reveal the furry thing buriedbelow. He looms over it, growling,“Explain yourself.”
“The Psammead grant wishes!” it squeaks, “The magic breaksat dawn. We obey the will of thewisher!”
As it cowers, Rumpelstiltskin blows out a noisy sigh. “Reckless magic. Fine. Be gone. Tell your kind the sonof the Dark One is off-limits.”
The Psammead lets out a shrill scream and burrows away asfast as its ape-like hands and feet can take it.
Rumpelstiltskin turns to see Gideon still cuddled up withhis creation. “It’s okay, Papa, don’t bemad.”
Belle has edged up to her son and the creature.
Muscles ripple under its feathers and four eyes fix a steelyglare on her until Gideon laughs and says, “Mama, look, it’s so big!”
Apparently sensing that Belle isn’t a threat, the creaturerelaxes and allows her to carefully pat its neck. “It’s very big, sweetheart. Does it have a name?”
“Umm-Mike.”
“Mike?”
“Mike. You’re Mike!”Gideon tells the creature. Mike cocksits head and chirps.
Gideon and Mike gambol about the beach for the rest of theday. Belle and Rumpelstiltskin hovernearby, smiling tightly and continually reminding Gideon he is not allowed toclimb on Mike’s back and go flying. Atsunset Rumpelstiltskin conjures a tent for the family and Belle builds a fireon the beach. After supper, Gideon fallsasleep tucked against Mike’s side. Rumpelstiltskin stays awake through the night, and just as thePsammead’s magic begins to falter, he infuses Mike with his own magic,shrinking it to the size of a small dog.
He and Belle had discussed getting Gideon a pet. They didn’t expect the lad to make his own.
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All You Need Is Love: Chapter Four “I Want to Hold Your Hand”
A Love Story Told by The Fab Four / Inspired by “Across the Universe”
Spencer Reid: a genius, hardworking, dedicated FBI profiler. Persephone “Percy” Jacobson: a passionate, brilliant, ambitious FBI specialist, and the newest member of the BAU. Spencer doesn’t believe in soulmates. Persephone doesn’t believe in happy endings. Told nonlinearly, watch as time, each other, and The Beatles, proves them wrong.
Chapter List
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A/N: So glad you are all enjoying this series!! In a perfect world, I will have chapter five up sometime late next week, but I am currently in tech for a show I’m ASMing so I might not have time to write it. I’ll make sure to keep ya’ll updated!
Listen Here
~~~~~
Oh yeah I tell you somethin'
I think you'll understand
When I say that somethin’
I want to hold your hand
{2006}
It was late at night, and the jet roared through the sky. Percy sat by the window, staring out into the night sky. Music blared through her headphones, blocking out the rumblings of the plane engine.
Across the plane sat Spencer, deep into a large book. His eyes followed his fingers down the page, rapidly flipping through the chapters. His emotions on his face changing as he moved to a new page.
Percy watched as Spencer flew through the novel, his brain moving faster than the jet through the sky. She couldn’t look away. She loved watching him work. There was something about his intelligence that made her heart swell. The confidence he had in his ideas, how he trusted his instincts. Everyone knew he was special, but Percy was beginning to realize how special he was to her.
Percy glared at the empty seat next to him. She longed to sit in it, to be close to him. She thought about resting her head on his shoulders, their arms intertwined.
Percy desperately wanted to tell Spencer how she felt. She wanted to walk over to him and plant a long, passionate kiss on his lips. She wanted his face to be the first thing she sees in the morning, and the last thing she sees at night.
In a perfect world, that would be her life. But Percy knew she would never act on her feelings. She knew Spencer wasn’t interested in her. How could he be interested in her? He was brilliant, and his beautiful, rambling mind needed an equal mind to love.
Now, it’s not that Percy wasn’t intelligent. After all, she did have a Ph.D. in Religious Studies. And she climbed to the top of the FBI within her first year at the agency, becoming a member of the BAU at the age of 24. Percy had her moments of genius, but Spencer’s whole life was one big moment of brilliance. She could never compete with his intelligence.
Although Percy would never admit it, with Spencer, it really was love at first sight. When she saw his face for the first time as she walked into the office, she knew she would grow to love Spencer. His smile was infectious, and his laugh was intoxicating. She found herself speechless around him. Something about his presence caused her mind to malfunction. For almost three years, they'd worked side by side. And each year that passed, Percy buried her emotions deeper and deeper.
She continued to watch him, his eyebrows furrowed as he read. She wished things were different. Percy wished she was brave enough to express her feelings. She wished she was smarter. She wished Spencer felt the same way.
Spencer, finished his book and set it aside. He looked up, his eyes connecting with Percy’s. For a beat, they looked at each other, their eyes unblinking. But Percy turned and looked back towards the window.
Oh please say to me
You’ll let me be your man
And please say to me
You’ll let me hold your hand
Spencer finished his book, placing it back into his bag. Looking up, he noticed Percy’s eyes locked on him. After a brief moment of eye contact, Percy's eyes returned to the window.
Spencer's eyes didn’t move. He watched her, her mouth moving in time to the music in her headphones.
Spencer smiled. Something about her made him happy. Through the darkness the team sees every day, Percy still managed to be a shining light.
Spencer never felt like this before. There were women in his past he had feelings for, but nothing compared to the way Percy made him feel.
His whole life, Spencer was told he was special. He was treated differently. Everyone seemed intimidated by him. But Percy was different. When Spencer went on one of his rants, and the rest of the team had tuned him out, Percy listened. She was the first to back him up in a debate, but she was also the first one to challenge him. The rest of the team took everything Spencer said as fact. And, although, most of the time Spencer was right, Percy was always there to catch him when he was wrong. Spencer never found it embarrassing, instead, he found it incredible. He found someone who understood him, someone who wasn’t afraid of his mind.
Spencer only wished Percy truly understood just how brilliant she was. He noticed her self-doubt. How she always opened with “I’m not sure, but…” and ended with “but I could be wrong” when she presented her ideas to the team. Spencer wanted to yell at her, to force her to become aware of her incredibleness. But Spencer couldn’t do that. He wasn’t brave like Percy. No one was brave like Percy.
Spencer recalled the first time he’d seen her courage and her selflessness first hand. It was a month after she’d joined the team. Spencer and Percy were tasked with interviewing the neighbor of the victim. What they hadn’t realized was that the neighbor was the unsub. As he began to run away, Percy chased after him, gun drawn. Spencer had watched in shock as she tackled him, ripping the gun from his hand as she pinned him to the ground. She never hesitated, she never showed fear. It was like that in every case. Percy risking her life to save others. She would face death head-on if it meant saving someone’s life. Spencer loved her for that.
Spencer glanced at the seat next to him, wishing Percy was beside him. He wanted to be close to her. Usually, his germaphobic tendencies never allowed him to feel this way, but with Percy, he didn’t care. He wanted to hold her, to feel her warmth. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so badly.
Earlier that year, Spencer made out with Lila Archer, a Hollywood actress, in her pool. But, in that moment, Spencer wasn’t thinking about the beautiful actress across from him. No, when their bodies and lips intertwined, the only image in Spencer’s mind was Percy. He imagined it was her he was kissing. It was his secret fantasy. A fantasy he could never reveal to the love of his life.
How could he? Percy was too good for him. Spencer knew that Percy could have her pick of any man on earth. The world was her candy store.
But that wouldn’t stop him from dreaming.
And when I touch you I feel happy inside
It’s such a feelin’ that my love I can’t hide,
I can’t hide, I can’t hide
{2007}
It was a hot summer day at the BAU. One of those days where the fans are on high and everyone’s energy levels are low. But that didn’t stop the team from celebrating.
It was Percy’s birthday, and unknown to her, the team had planned a party in her honor.
Percy stared at her phone and she entered the office. A text from Hotch read “conference room. Emergency.” Looking up at the conference room, Percy saw the drawn blinds. Percy shuddered as she walked up to the room, anxious about what was on the other side of the door.
“SURPRISE!” yelled the team as Percy opened the door.
Shocked, Percy took in the scene around her. The room, full of streamers and balloons, and in the center of the table sat a large cake with Percy’s face on it.
“Aww, you guys. Thank you so much. I thought I was going to spend my birthday hanging out with serial killers. This is so much better” Percy exclaimed.
“Don’t hold your breath, Jacobson. It’s still early. Plenty of time for a serial killer to make an appearance” Morgan joked, patting Percy on the back.
“What do you think about the cake?” Garcia asked, hurrying over to Percy’s side, “I thought, since you’re so drop-dead gorgeous you’d make the perfect cake.”
Percy giggled, “I love it, Penny. But you’re giving me a bit too much credit.”
Garcia gasped, “Never, Ma Cheri. I mean every word.”
Spencer moved over to Percy, a wrapped gift in his hands.
“Happy birthday, Percy.” He smiled.
Percy’s world stopped as Spencer wrapped his arms around her. Her breathing hitched and her heart rate accelerated. Spencer had never hugged her before. Spencer never hugged anybody. In that moment, she could have sworn she felt Spencer’s heart racing as they touched.
The team was just as shocked as Percy was. There was a beat of silence before Gideon spoke up. “Okay, so, who wants cake?”
The rest of the day was a blur for Percy, as her mind kept returning to Spencer’s hug. What did it mean? Does it mean he might have feelings for her? Spencer doesn’t just hug anybody after all. Or did it mean nothing and Percy was just overanalyzing what could have been a friendly gesture.
That night, when Percy got home, she opened the presents the team gave her. She saved Spencer’s for last. After unwrapping the rest of the gifts, Percy directed her attention to the last gift. It was wrapped in brown paper, a bow of twine tied around it. She ripped it open, the anticipation driving her crazy. The package revealed an old book. It was the complete story of Persephone, a book of which she’d owned many copies, but never read.
This copy, however, was different. It was older than the other copies she’d owned. The cover was full of beautiful gold decorations. As she flipped through it, she noticed the intricate drawings on each page. The book was stunning, a work of art itself. Percy loved it.
Opening the front cover, Percy saw a message. It was scribbled in Spencer’s signature chicken scratch. It read:
To the only Persephone more astonishing than her namesake. Happy Birthday, Percy.
Percy read the next line over and over. She closed her eyes, thinking that it was just her mind playing tricks. That when she opened them, she would return to reality. But when Percy opened her eyes, the message remained. Percy could hear her heart pound as she continued to smile, looking down at the writing.
Love, Spencer
Yeah, you got that somethin’
I think you’ll understand
When I say that somethin’
I want to hold your hand
{2009}
Spencer paced around the bathroom. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to ask Percy out?
His breathing was frantic, his palms sweaty. He was so nervous. His mind kept repeating scenarios in his head. Maybe she’d say yes. Spencer’s heart soared at that thought. A night alone, just the two of them. The best-case scenario. But what if she said no?
The sound of the bathroom door opening jolted Spencer from his panic. Rossi had walked in, clearly startled by Reid’s nervous appearance.
“You okay Reid? You look a little pale.” Rossi asked.
“I’m fine, great actually. I’m doing really well” Spencer rambled.
“Well, okay then,” Rossi replied, suspicious of Spencer’s behavior.
Spencer left the bathroom, shaking as he made his way over to his desk. Noticing that Percy wasn’t seated at her desk across from him, he sighed in relief, as he was not yet ready to see her.
“Well, I’m done for the day.” Said Morgan, grabbing his things and walking towards the door, “Are you headed out soon Pretty Boy?”
“Yeah, soon. Where did everyone else go?” Spencer asked, worried he’d missed his chance.
“JJ left a few minutes ago. Hotch is in his office, per usual.” Morgan replied.
Spencer felt his heart sink, “Where’s Percy? Did she go home?”
“Nope, she’s down in Garcia’s office. Why?” Morgan asked.
“No reason. Just wondering. Anyway, have a good weekend Morgan.” Spencer said.
Morgan left, leaving Spencer alone in the strangely quiet office building. He thought about ditching, abandoning his hopeful plans with Percy. The anticipation was killing him.
Suddenly, Spencer heard Percy walk up behind him, making his way to her desk.
“Hey, Spence,” Percy said.
“Hey, Percy,” Spencer replied.
They sat in silence for a few minutes before Spencer got up the courage to speak.
“Hey Percy, have you heard about that new exhibit at the Natural History Museum?”
Percy looked up from her work, “Are you talking about the one on the evolution of ancient languages? It opens tonight, and they have a bunch of famous linguists presenting as well. I wanted to go so badly, but tickets for the opening event sold out before I could get one.”
Spencer took a deep breath, “So, what are you doing tonight?”
Percy looked up at Spencer, confusion on her face, “Nothing, why?”
Spencer reached into his bag, pulling out the tickets,“It just so happens that I have an extra ticket for the exhibit tonight. Want to come?”
“Of course. I’d love to come,” Percy smiled brightly, “The event starts at 7, right? Well, we have a couple of hours, and, I don’t know about you but I’m done with my work for today. Do you maybe want to grab something to eat? I’m starving.”
“Yeah,” Spencer said, the smile on his face growing bigger, “I’d love that.”
“Good because there’s a new restaurant that opened a few streets over that looks amazing,” Percy said, grabbing her coat.
Spencer followed, grabbing his things and making his way over to the elevator. He couldn’t stop smiling.
He’d gotten his best case scenario. And he couldn’t be happier.
I want to hold your hand
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A Wondrous Adventure (4/4)
OUaT/Captain Swan
7000 words
No warnings apply
AO3 Link | Ch 1 on Tumblr | Ch 2 | Ch 3
The wedding I wanted for them. Thanks @ripplestitchskein for beta reading!
For a moment Emma couldn’t speak. The teasing look had gone from Killian’s expression, leaving only the open question, the shining adoration in his eyes.
“I know the future can hold many dangers,” he said. “But I promise you, no matter what it brings, I will be at your side for as long as you wish.”
Emma breathed out. “I.... wow.” She looked down for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts, to put together a coherent sentence, and had to settle for, “Yes. Yes, I will.” She couldn’t stop smiling. Snowflakes were melting in her hair and his as she held out her hand. She hadn’t even looked at the ring, having eyes only for him at first, but she glanced down as he slipped it on. Its simple, graceful shape reminded her of her mother’s. Two small diamonds flanked a single ruby, and the band had been carved with fantastic delicacy to resemble a flowering vine.
“Where did you find this? It’s gorgeous.” Red and gold; she smiled even more.
“In Agrabah, where I was certain you were going to guess what I was about, to be honest. I had one from the shop here in town already, but I think this suits you better.” He kissed her hand and stood up. “And it can be a reminder of our adventure, a memory I hope will not displease you?”
“Hardly, but I hope you kept the re--wait, how long have you been thinking about this?” More things fell into place. “You talked it over with Henry, didn’t you. While I was in the dream world. That’s why he sprinted off like that.”
“It seemed proper to broach the topic. He’s at a delicate age, but he seemed pleased. And I have been considering it for a few weeks.”
Emma laughed and hugged him. “Sneaky. Yes. Yes, I will marry you.” She savored the words as something she had never thought she would say, now part of a moment to cherish for the rest of her life. “I love you.”
“I love you, Emma.” They kissed under the snow.
“Let’s go home and give Henry the news.”
“Do you want to talk to your parents?” He glanced up at the loft windows.
“I think we should just wait to see how long it takes them to notice.”
As it happened, Snow and Charming were not much seen until the evening of the following day, both of them fairly glowing with happiness. Half the town squeezed into Granny’s for an impromptu curse-breaking celebration, convivial in defiance of Gideon’s constant enigmatic threat. Despite the crowd and the constant stream of well-wishers, Snow’s gaze focused on Emma’s left hand with laser-like precision as soon as she and Killian arrived.
“Well that’s new. Emma? Do you have something to tell us?”
“Was that under ten seconds, do you think?” she asked Killian.
“Absolutely.”
“All right, you win. The bet was five dollars, right?”
“Ten, as you know quite well.”
“Damn.” Emma turned to Snow. “Yes, mom, we do, but this is your party. We can wait.” She shared a secret smile with Killian.
“All the more reason! I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate than with even more happy news.”
“Hey, everybody!” David hollered. The gathering quieted. “Thank you all for coming. It’s wonderful to see you all here, all of us together at last, proof that no evil can stand for long in the face of true love. And I think it’s about to get even more wonderful. And more love-ful.”
“How much has he had to drink?” Emma muttered, blushing hard; Snow giggled and elbowed her with the arm not holding Neal.
“Emma?” David relinquished the floor to her.
“Uh… h, everybody.” She glanced at Killian and grabbed his hand, pulling him closer. “We have an… announcement, I guess? We’re engaged.” She leaned into his shoulder as the crowd erupted in cheers. The well-wishers who had just finished swarming her parents reformed around Emma and Killian. Leroy was loudly heard demanding that Happy pay up. Granny gave up trying to keep track of tabs and just passed around trays of drinks. Emma soaked in the communal joy and thought she might actually be glowing. Even better was seeing Killian buoyed by that same swell of positive emotion, the sense that both of them were truly home.
The party went on well into the night. Once the flood of congratulations had dwindled, Emma settled in the corner booth where she could watch her family.
“What happened to your branch from the sapling?” Henry asked.
“It’s tucked away somewhere safe,” Emma said.
“I hope that doesn’t mean it’s out in the garden shed.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “If it was, I certainly wouldn’t say so.” It wasn’t, of course. “Anyway, I don’t think anyone else would be able to use it.” Just in case she was wrong about that, it was in a hiding place she had made under the floorboards, and only she and Killian could open it, together.
“Just you?”
“Well, one of us, probably.” Emma shrugged. She still hadn’t gotten around to asking Killian about the dreamcatcher. If it hadn’t occurred to him how odd that was, well, maybe it didn’t need talking about. If it came up again, she would ask. Between her and Henry, there was more than enough magic for one family.
Henry sat forward with his elbows on the table. “You ducked the question last night, so I have to ask again: when’s Operation White--”
“Please, no,” Emma interrupted, laughing. “This one really doesn’t need to be an operation. It’s a wedding. Just a normal event. They happen every day.” She glanced at Killian, savoring the thought of an ordinary, joyful celebration, of the paradox of love, that it was always unique in its particulars, but shared by so many in outline.
“You’re not going to be any fun about this, are you.” Henry sighed. “Fine, when’s the wedding going to be?”
“Just about three months from now,” Killian said. “In the spring. How would you feel about being best man?”
“You’re joking.”
“Not in the least. It’s a very important responsibility, and one I would be honored to have you undertake.”
“I’ll leave you two to discuss it,” Emma said, still grinning as she got up to refresh her drink. “I know everything will be in good hands.”
Not two days later, “I have a few ideas,” Snow announced, barging in through the (locked) front door at very nearly the crack of dawn.
“Uh… hi, mom.” Emma turned away from the door long enough to tie the robe she had thrown on when she came down to get coffee. “What, um, brings you here so bright and early?” She did a hasty review of the morning’s activities and pulled the collar tighter around her neck, too.
“This!” Her mother dropped a binder on the kitchen table and flipped it open.
With a grimace and mental apologies, Emma drank some coffee and looked through the pages. The binder had tab-divided sections running from A (appetizers) to V (venue), and was several inches thick.
“This is… a lot of ideas,” Emma said, pretending to study the checklist in front of her. One year prior, she was apparently supposed to have hired a planner -- though from the looks of it, her mother had that covered.
“The big question of course is where to have it. Fortunately, I think, the town hall is really the only place big enough. And I think we can make it very festive, it just needs a few hangings and maybe some candles, the light in there is actually quite lovely at the right time of day, oh and there has to be a carpet of course. I think we can insist on black tie if we give people enough warning, although your father disagrees, but then he also seems to think that we could have it at the convent. The gardens are lovely, okay, but it just isn’t big enough, so I told him--”
“Mom. Slow down.”
“Right.” Snow took a deep breath and folded her hands on the table, beaming. “I’m just so excited that you’re finally going to have a day as special as you deserve.”
“I’m excited, too, mom. It’s just that, this is our wedding.”
“Of course! That’s why I brought all this.” Snow cocked her head. “And I have a whole section on tuxedos, too -- oh, is Killian still asleep? I didn’t realize how early it was, I could hardly sleep I was so excited to get to work.”
“Yeah, he’s… still in bed.” Emma closed the binder and put her hand over Snow’s. “Mom. I love you and dad very much. Killian and I have talked this over, and there’s something I want to ask you.”
“Oh? What’s that? I have more magazines back at the--”
“What we would really like is if we could, well, borrow a few lines from your vows.”
Snow’s eyes widened. “Oh, Emma. Of course.”
“Thank you. Now you’ll have to let us show you where we’re going to have it; I need your help on where everybody ought to stand.”
“Oh? But….” She looked deflated.
“And we’re thinking snowbells for the flowers, do you think we can find any here at this time of year?”
“Really?” Snow brightened. “That’s such a lovely thought! I’m sure we can arrange it. Even if your father has to mount an expedition to the Enchanted Forest to find them.”
“Great!” Emma got up, and was relieved when her mother followed suit. “Once the sun is properly up, we can all go out and look around. Why don’t you and dad meet us for lunch and we’ll all talk about it? Okay? Great! See you then.”
Emma saw the door closed, locked, and the deadbolt on for added measure, then collected the tray of coffee things and headed for the stairs and her waiting pirate.
Before any of their plans could become reality, they had to get through the town’s latest crisis, and then they had to pick up the pieces. When all seemed as quiet as life in Storybrooke ever was, things moved forward.
In the meantime, the Nautilus came back.
The last time Killian had approached the vessel, it was with uncertainty, under a dark and snow-filled sky. Now it was day, with the first hesitant breaths of spring wafting out from the forests, taking some of the edge off the Atlantic wind. The crew welcomed him more easily this time, wanting to know all about what they had missed, and talking about their next mission off in the north of Scotland. Nemo, as ever, was grace incarnate, and appeared delighted by Killian’s request.
“If your travels permit, of course, we would be honored if you would perform the wedding.” They had discussed the alternatives, and been faced (again) with Storybrooke’s peculiar nature. Neither of them would have felt right about a church, having no affiliation to either those native to the Land Without Magic or the Enchanted Forest. No doubt Archie would be delighted to officiate, as the town’s JP, but…. The sea brought you back to me, Emma had said. When I would have forgotten everything in New York. It’s been a part of us all along, sort of. It would be nice to make that part of the celebration?
Killian could hardly argue, even if he wanted to. We do keep meeting on islands, all unknowing.
World after world, Emma said, and laughed, and kissed him. Like having our own song. And there’s the Jolly Roger to think of. I almost feel like I’m getting a… sister in law, or something, in this deal.
“Of course I will,” Nemo said. “Congratulations to you both. Are you planning to hold the event at sea, then?”
“Not exactly, but I think we can secure a dispensation for the occasion, if one is required. Law in Storybrooke is a bit of a unique mixture; I doubt the mother of the bride will object to your role. And thank you,” he added with a self-deprecating smile. “We had an inauspicious beginning, you and I, but I hope we can now call it friendship.” It had become something of a pattern in his life the past two years.
“Of course we can. A far better course than the reverse.” Nemo smiled. “I wish you both all the happiness you can bear, and excitement when you need respite. If there is anything I can do in the meantime, you have only to ask.”
“Thank you.” He hesitated. “There is one thing on which I could use your advice, at least. It’s to do with your first officer, as you might surmise.”
Nemo took a seat and gestured for Killian to do the same.
“We would like to have him at the wedding. However, I don’t know if he would want to be there, and I would prefer not to put him in the position of saying no.”
“Ah.” Nemo raised his eyebrows. “Diplomatic.”
“I have reason to be aware of how long such scars can linger. Even if one is determined to put them aside.”
“He has had some advantages since then, which you were not afforded. Our travels have given him something of a reflective nature, but he is still quite young. I think coming to Storybrooke has opened his eyes in some ways.”
“I know. But I want to leave the decision in his hands. An unsuspected brother is one thing; an entire family quite another.” He wondered what the other Liam would have made of all of this, whether he would know, wherever he was.
“So it is,” Nemo said with understanding emphasis. “For this match more than some, I would imagine.”
“Fortunately, titles aren’t much of a consideration in this realm.” He didn’t precisely forget that Emma was a princess; he had more than once thought that she would have made a splendid queen. Though even if they had been in the Enchanted Forest, no doubt Emma would have done as she wished. Her mother had married a shepherd, after all, even if he wore a prince’s clothing.
Nemo’s look suggested gentle skepticism, but he let that stand. “Even without royal obligations, it is a large and complicated world into which you enter. She has a son, for one thing.”
“Aye. Henry and I have had our rocky moments,” Killian acknowledged. “He lost his father last year, under difficult circumstances, and the year since then has been… something of a trial for all of us, I think. Trust me, I am under no illusions regarding my experience in these realms. He’s a brave lad, and he wants to do what’s right. He wants his mother to be happy, as well.”
“That speaks well of him, as your concern does of you. I’m sure he’s a fine young man, and you’ll find your way together.” He clapped Killian on the shoulder as he stood. “I will convey your invitation to Liam, and I look forward to seeing both of you on the happy occasion. Let me know when the arrangements are made.”
The answer to Emma’s prayers swept through the flower-carved portal that still stood in the Sorcerer’s Mansion and brought an unseasonal snow shower with her.
“I am SO sorry about the snow, I wasn’t sure if this was the right house,” she said as soon as Emma opened her front door.
“Elsa?”
“Yes, it’s me.” She smiled sheepishly. “In the flesh! I asked a few people in town and just hoped they had good directions. You know, this town is larger than it looks.”
“It certainly is. But it’s so good to see you! Come on in.”
“This is a big change from your parents’ spare room.” Elsa looked around the living room. She had traded in her usual blue for a richly embroidered skirt and bodice of deep summery green. She didn’t look older, exactly, to Emma’s eyes, but more settled in herself than she had last time they met.
“It is that. More space than I think we realized at the time.” Emma made a rueful face. “We’re still finding furniture. Kilian’s out getting groceries with Henry, they should be back in a little bit. What brings you to Storybrooke? Is everything all right in Arendelle?”
“Oh, everything is fine. As a matter of fact, I came to see you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” Elsa laughed. “You look so surprised! When I hear that my best friend is getting married, what else was I supposed to do?”
“News has spread that far?”
“My dear, I doubt there’s a realm of any importance that hasn’t gotten it.” She cocked her head impishly. “When a certain infamous pirate is spotted in Agrabrah with a certain companion, buying a ring with a great deal of concentration and a shocking lack of haggling, you can be assured that the word gets around. Slowly,” she added, “and largely by bird, but it does. So I thought I would get to work on that portal and come see for myself. I’m so happy for you!”
“Thanks.” She displayed the ring in question, pleased and a bit sheepish about it. “It was quite the shopping trip, as it turned out.”
“I can’t wait to hear all about it. Tell me everything I’ve missed.”
“That covers a lot of territory,” Emma said with feeling. “How about I make some hot chocolate? Let’s see, when you left was that before or after Belle banished Gold? Yeah, things stayed quiet for a whole six weeks after that, and then all hell broke loose. Literally.”
The story took a long while, and Elsa spent most of it wide-eyed.
“...And that’s how we’ve spent the last, uh, six months. So.” Emma coughed. “How’ve you been?”
“That’s an amazing story. I haven’t done anything more exciting than negotiate a trade deal since we got back.”
“That sounds heavenly. It has been quiet lately, though, and all I ask is that it stays that way for a few more weeks.”
“You’ve certainly earned some peace and quiet. So, how can I help? My sister’s wedding wasn’t that long ago, so it’s all fresh in my mind.” She grinned.
Surprise by the depth of her relief, Emma smiled back. “We’re trying really hard to keep things simple. The ceremony is going to be small, and my parents are planning the reception. They’ve been dying to help with something, and they’re old hands at catering for five thousand.”
“Five thousand?!”
“By the time they got done with the guest list, at least half the town was on it, so Killian and I thought we might as well just invite everyone. But I am going to need help with a few things, and if you’re okay with staying for a while, maybe you could…?”
“I would be happy to,” Elsa said. “You’ll have to fill me in what’s customary for this world.”
“Thanks.” Emma gave her a relieved smile. “There isn’t much. I just need to find a dress and stuff. And now that I’m doing it, I don’t know really where to start. It seems sort of unreal.” She was going to get married. She and Killian, getting married. Spending the rest of their lives together.
“I can imagine. When do you want to get started?” She sounded so eager that Emma had to smile.
“No time like the present?”
They left a note for Emma’s family and walked downtown, walked all over downtown three or four times, all told, and then took a break for lunch at Granny’s. Elsa greeted Ruby with delight there.
“You’ll have to tell me all about Oz soon,” Elsa said. “And about Dorothy, of course!”
“Of course.” Ruby grinned. “We’re not sure how long we’ll be staying in town, but she wanted to meet my family and everything, so we’ll probably be around for a while. In the meantime, what can I get you?”
Once their orders had arrived, “I really must find some way to introduce our chef to these,” Elsa said, sipping her milkshake. “But finish what you were saying, please.”
“I think it’s just that I never really thought that I would ever get married,” Emma said. “I dunno, maybe when I was a kid, like really little. Not after I had any idea what it meant. I never thought about it with me in it.” Another dream discarded between one temporary home and the next.
Elsa grimaced. “I’ve obviously thought about it -- I am queen, after all -- but there’s no rush.” She shrugged. “I’m likely to have a niece or nephew soon enough to content anyone concerned about the succession.”
“Oh god, at least I don’t have to worry about that. There is a positive side to not having a kingdom any more.”
“You never know, the way things change around here. But I’m so happy for you.” For an ice witch, Elsa’s smile was pure sunlight. “Now we just need to find the elusive perfect dress. What about your mother? Did she have any ideas?”
“Oh god, does she ever. I’m afraid that if I talk to her about it, she’ll ask if I want to wear something like hers. How do you say no to that? I mean, I love her, but...”
“You’re very different people.” Elsa nodded. “We’ll keep looking, then. If I learned anything about this town on my last visit, it’s that it’s full of surprising secrets.”
“And they usually mean disaster.”
“I might know someone who can help,” Ruby said in passing. “You’ve been to all of the shops?”
“Yeah, and half of the internet. I don’t want to drive down to Portland, but….”
“I’ll make an appointment for you with my friend,” Ruby said.
“Do I know this friend?” Emma asked.
“I doubt it.” Ruby smiled. “She keeps a low profile these days.”
An embroidered hanging on the door read “Bless This House”. Beneath it, very small and fine, had been added “Seven at one blow.” Emma had done a lot of reading up on fairy tales in the past couple of years, and raised her eyebrows at Ruby, who grinned and knocked.
A tiny, elderly, but very straight-backed woman answered the door. Iron-gray hair lay in tight, close-cropped curls, and her eyes almost disappeared into the smile lines in her dark skin as she pulled Ruby into a hug.
“Why, Ms Lucas, as I live and breathe. It’s been too long!”
Ruby hugged her back, leaning down a bit to do so. “You don’t come to Granny’s any more.”
“You know fried food doesn’t agree with me these days.”
“We have kale on the menu now, you know. Ada, these are my friends--you probably know Emma--and this is Queen Elsa of Arendelle.”
“Of course I know Emma, I voted for her, didn’t I? You’re the one getting married. How do you do? I hope your charming young man is well? Please, come in,” Ada said. “Ruby said you’re in need of a dress.”
“I seem to be -- Your Majesty…?” Emma hazarded, still trying to process “charming young man.”
“Oh, tosh, I gave that up years ago. Crowns are a bother, don’t let anyone tell you differently, young lady,” she said in an aside to Elsa, who nodded gravely. “We retired long before the curse, went back to my craft, and lived quietly in your mother’s kingdom, Emma, or as quietly as the times would allow at any rate. Melanie! Company’s here.”
They followed Ada through the entryway and into the front room, which was fiercely tidy in a doilies-on-every-flat surface fashion. Another, sturdier old lady was busy setting out tea things. This one had either once been a red-head or had aspired to be, Emma guessed, judging by her dogged maintenance of that status now.
“I’m sure we have some biscuits, won’t be a moment, dears. So nice of you to visit.”
“My wife,” Ada said with a fond smile.
“My father said I must wed the hero who slew the ogres.” Melanie shrugged with a twinkle in her eyes. “What was a princess to do?”
“But that’s all ancient history now,” Ada said. “And these young people are here on business. Just pull those drapes aside, dear, and let me have look at Miss Swan.”
Emma was starting to wish she had worn something more flattering than her usual sweater and leggings, but she stood in the light and turned a circle while Ada looked at her. The older woman’s gimlet stare slowly softened and became almost dreamy; she didn’t move for a long while, and when she did it was to hold out her hand. Melanie, who had obviously seen this before, pressed a pad and pencil upon her. Ada looked more through than at the paper, and began to sketch.
“You can sit down now,” Melanie whispered to Emma, “she’ll be like this for a bit. Here.” She served the tea. “Ruby, dear, tell me what you’ve been up to since you came back! And tell your Granny we really must get together for cards again soon. Killian too, if he’s not too busy getting ready,” she added. “It’s the second Saturday of the month this weekend.”
Emma looked from Melanie to Ruby and back again. “You guys… are the… other card players?”
“Best ever to roam the taverns of the Enchanted Forest, once,” Melanie said, beaming. “That was after Leopold died and the tailoring work dried up, mind, what with the reign of terror and all. I thought it was my turn to try to bring in a bit of income.”
“Um, yeah. I can imagine that wasn’t good for business.”
“Turned out I was pretty good at it. We play in the back room at the Rabbit Hole every other Saturday, if you ever want to join us, dear.”
“I think I’ll pass, no offence,” Emma said. “My dad says married couples should leave each other a little bit of space for hobbies.”
“Very wise. Are you back with us, dear?” She looked at Ada, who had emerged blinking from her inspired haze.
“More or less. I think I have a few ideas we can work with. Let’s get some materials out, shall we?”
Emma smiled shyly. “All right.”
“A uniform made these things so much simpler.” Killian stared in some dismay at the Land Without Magic’s idea of male formal wear. “A bit dull, aren’t they?”
“A little, yeah,” David agreed. “I thought you liked black.” He gave Killian a once-over.
“Aye, but this is a special occasion.”
“True. Maybe something like this?”
“Hm, better.”
“It’s your wedding,” Henry put in. “Do what you want.”
His wedding. Had there ever been a time when he imagined such a thing? Long enough ago that he had forgotten, if so. Things with Milah had been different; for as much as he had loved her, and she him, there had never been much of a future to talk about. There had never been much to hope for, in his previous lives -- battle and glory, treasure and revenge, but not hope.
He settled on a charcoal gray suit with a vest of the deepest wine-red, and a longer coat than was usual in this world.
“I suppose one doesn’t wear a sword to the festivities in this world.” He considered the coat’s line a touch wistfully. There was no reason to set aside everything, surely, just because they were settled in Storybrooke now.
“That would look awesome.” Henry nodded approval. “Hey, can there be jousting and stuff? At the reception?”
“That’s a great idea!” David pulled out a battered notepad. “I’ll round up some of the old knights, we can make a proper tournament of it. And then a feast, and dancing…. You’re going to have to help with the music, Henry. I know all of the standards from our world, of course, but I’m sure there’s lot of great stuff here.”
“Sure, grandpa.” An ill-concealed light of devilry glimmered in the boy’s eyes. “Who’s going to be the DJ?”
“Happy volunteered.” Killian shrugged.
“Oh, and there’s the bachelor party,” David added. “Can’t forget about that.”
“The what?”
“Hoo boy,” Henry muttered. “I’ll leave that bit to you, Grandpa. What with me not being old enough to drink.”
In the end, they had the party at the Buoy, a decent enough dive near the waterfront. Nearly everyone Killian knew in Storybrooke turned up, and between old crew, old comrades, and the occasional old enemy under truce, they filled the place surprisingly well.
“We could have had a ‘most outrageous lie’ contest. You almost look relaxed,” David noted, coming over as the evening began to wind down. “Looking forward to tomorrow?”
“Indeed I am.” Killian scanned the gathering. Across the room, some of the old crew broke into a fresh round of song. Liam was talking to Smee at the bar, which someone would undoubtedly end up regretting, but on the whole the ships’ crews had mingled without incident. A small miracle, perhaps, and fit for the occasion.
“Told you you’d have fun.”
“And it would appear that you were right.” No stranger to roistering, being the center of so much innocent goodwill was yet an unfamiliar role to Killian. He recalled a good many celebrations over many decades; most of them, in the end, had come down to the fact that they were still alive, that they had outwitted or outfought or occasionally outrun the day’s enemy. This tradition felt odd, a celebration for its own sake. He said as much to David, who laughed.
“If we get another villain in town tonight, that’ll put things back in balance.”
“I rather wish you hadn’t said that, mate.”
“Didn’t realize you were so superstitious. Hey, it’s a little close in here. I could do with a bit of fresh air.” He cocked an eyebrow.
“All right.” Killian could pick up a hint that broad; he slung his jacket over his shoulder and went along, curious.
They walked down to where David had parked, neither of them speaking. David leaned on the railing and looked out at the water.
“You’re staying on the ship tonight?” he asked.
“Aye. Wouldn’t do to break with tradition,” Killian said. “Elsa has commandeered the house, regardless, for the bridal festivities.” He wondered what they were all up to and smiled at the image his mind conjured, of Emma pink-cheeked and laughing, surrounded by friends and well-wishers. He loved all of her, in every mood, of course, the fierce and the tender, but in her joyful moments she shone brighter than any star. On the morrow, he would swear to set his course by that light, for the rest of his life, and the thought brought a smile to his face.
Eventually David said, “I’ve been trying to think of some fatherly advice, you know. Some pithy bit of wisdom that I’ve gleaned through the years. Mostly I realized that I don’t know much. But I do know that you will be the best partner you possibly can be for my daughter.”
“I certainly intend to.”
“I expect nothing less. And that’s why I have to do this.” He reached into the back of the truck and pulled out a sheathed sword.
Killian was only slightly drunk, but he certainly didn’t want to duel David in any state whatsoever. “Mate, I don’t think--”
“Just shut up for a second. It’s been a damned long time since I did this.” Weaving slightly, he drew the blade. It gleamed under the streetlights. “Kneel.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.”
“David, I really don’t think this is--”
“Do you want to marry my daughter?”
“More than anything.”
“Then let me do this. It’s long overdue anyway.”
With decidedly mixed emotions, Killian knelt.
“Properly you’re supposed to stand vigil for a night, but I think you’ve lost more than enough sleep, and enough blood for that matter, trying to help this family. Sometimes we were pretty ungrateful about it, too. So we’re gonna skip that part. And there won’t be an oath of fealty, because if I know you you wouldn’t do it, and also because it’s not needed. It’s the funniest thing, when I think about it, how I know, all of us know by now, that we can trust you. Rely on you to do whatever it takes, to do the right thing, no matter how hard it is. There’s no one I could be more proud to bring into this family. So.” He took the sword firmly in hand and stepped up to Killian, who hoped the prince was less tipsy than he sounded. “With this sword, I dub thee Sir Killian.” His aim was still good; the flat of the blade landed with the requisite stern thump but without actual injury. “There.” He sounded immensely satisfied. “I never did manage to give Emma very much. I just want this day to be perfect for her.”
“I understand. Thank you.”
David extended his free hand to help Killian up, and pulled him into a surprising hug. “And next time we end up in the Enchanted Forest I’ll look through the rolls and find a title that needs looking after. And some letters of marque, make an honest privateer of you.”
“When we return, I’ll be sure to remind you of that,” Killian said with a grin.
Clouds lurked on the horizon at sunrise, but they had cleared away by mid-morning, when a small group gathered on the beach. Emma’s parents, Henry, Anna and Kristoff stood on one side. On the other were Belle, Ariel and Eric, Ursula, Tinkerbell, and Liam, who had accepted his invitation readily in the end. No one had made any attempt at a uniform look. Nemo stood in the center, beaming.
A short distance away from the gathering, Elsa gave Emma’s veil a final tweak and said, “Perfect. Ready or not?”
“More than ready.” Emma took a deep breath.
“Then here we go!” She walked ahead of Emma and took her place with Emma’s family.
The sea and the wind were music enough. The dress left Emma’s shoulders bare, a simple silhouette above her waist that spread gently into layered petals to her ankles. Around her neck on its silver chain hung the ring Killian had given her in Camelot, a reminder of the ones who could not be there to see this morning. Forget-me-nots twined around her hairpiece, anchoring a wisp of veil that was more a nod to tradition than a cover. More of the flowers mingled with the snowdrops in her bouquet. Elsa’s gown was the same shade of blue, and she had loaned Emma earrings from the Arendelle treasury, strings of diamonds that caught the sun in columns of captive fire.
(“My mother wore these for formal events,” she had said with a smile. “They’re perfect for you.”)
The sea breeze played with Emma’s hair, loosely knotted at the nape of her neck, and whipped her skirts for a moment, then died away as she walked down the gentle slope. Her parents blotted away tears. Henry held to a fierce adolescent solemnity, but the edges of his mouth curled. Emma smiled back at him, and finally let her gaze settle on her waiting groom. She knew that look of pure happiness, that for him there was nothing else in this moment but the sight of her. She grinned back at him. The joy in her heart grew with every step, a deeper magic than anything she had ever known, until they were side by side.
Emma knew they were going to have thousands of photographs to remember the day by, but none would capture the blue-blue-blue of the sky and the sea and his eyes, shining with love for her. Pictures wouldn’t catch the bright cold spring air, or the texture of Killian’s hand in hers, or the length of the moment they spent simply looking at one another before Nemo’s gentle cough brought their attention back to the formalities.
“If I may? Gentlefolk of many realms, we are gathered here for a blessed occasion,” he began. “And one that gives me great joy to be a part of. Not only the joining of two individuals for whom we all have both great esteem and great affection, but for what this represents: a triumph of hope, of love, and of faith.
“Difficult though it can be at times to remember, life itself is the great adventure. The quietest hour need never be dull if the ones we love are with us, nor can the most terrible straits overcome us while we hold to them. I think you know the latter,” he added with a smile, “through hard experience. I hope you will soon have the former as well. Now,” his gesture invited them to face one another. Henry produced the rings, simple bands of silver and gold. “Do you, Emma, take this man to be your wedded husband, and to love him for all eternity?”
Invitations had gone by mermaid, by magic mirror, and by bird for the past several weeks. Emma found that her new wand was more than adequate for creating portals; the center of town sparkled with magic and the finery of the arriving guests. The reception was theoretically at the town hall and environs, but it spilled out of the building, onto the lawn, and down the street. Sub-parties spawned and stretched until all of Storybrooke seemed in the grip of revelry. Music from a dozen realms floated through the streets, awaiting no formal ceremony, but in the flower-bedecked hall Emma took Killian’s hand. The cheers when they kissed brought a new flush to her cheeks, but then the music started and she forgot about their audience.
The afternoon blurred after that. There was music, food, more music, street theater, and always the dancing. The Mad Hatter danced with Maleficent; the Knave of Hearts danced with the queen of Camelot; Granny Lucas danced with Gepetto. Ursula danced with everyone, up to eight at a time. Emma danced with her father, with Poseidon (“Olympus sends their felicitations”), with Elsa, and with her new brother-in-law, whose smile had lost some of its uncertainty by the time they finished. And she and Killian danced -- she lost count of how many times, dances she knew from this world, and dances she was coming to know from others -- until Emma’s feet hurt, and she was breathless from laughter and exertion. She didn’t want to stop. As the sky began to hint at evening’s approach, the music slowed, and they met again at the center of the floor.
“Was it Henry or my dad who put the Chicken Dance on the playlist?” Emma asked, taking his hand. She had last seen her son in a group of friends from school, all dancing together, a far cry from the shy loner she had met that long-ago October night. She knew for a fact that it was Henry who suggested “The Macarena.”
“I have no idea to what you’re referring, love.” Killian winked as he slipped his arm around her waist. He had lost his jacket at some point in the day.
“A likely story.” The lights dimmed; a waltz began to play. Emma half-closed her eyes, savoring the moment. “What do you think of the adventure so far?”
“Best one yet. Believe I have a partner who knows what she’s doing.”
Emma laughed. “I guess we’ll find out.” They fell easily into step. Her hair had long since come loose from its knot, Ruby had caught her bouquet at some point in the long afternoon of merry-making, and she honestly had no idea what had happened to her hairpiece. Her feet were sore and the hem of her dress was dusty, and she could still hardly stop smiling. “I could get used to being this happy.”
“I certainly hope you will. It’s been a marvelous day, every moment.” He raised his hand for Emma to do a turn under it.
“Time to make our getaway, then, while the party is still in full swing,” she said.
“Soon. I believe your father has arranged transport.”
“They certainly did a good job with the party. I don’t think anyone will even notice we’ve gone.”
“That anxious to get away?”
“What if I was?” She looked up at him, teasing.
“Just a few measures more.”
She felt more than heard the words, a vibration that ran through her hand where it rested on his shoulder. They melted into one another as the musicians gave their final flourish - and then struck up a new tune, a fast-paced group dance from the Enchanted Forest. The bride and groom made their escape to wild applause, and then the dancing went on. Outside, they found that David had arranged a horse-drawn carriage to take them down to the waterfront and the waiting ship.
As the carriage drew up near the dock, Henry bounded down the Jolly Roger’s gangplank and threw a credible salute.
“Luggage all stowed, captain, mom. And enough cake to last a few days at least.”
“Thanks, Henry.” Emma gave him a fierce hug. “You sure you’ll be okay while we’re gone?”
“We’ll be fine, I promise. And we’ll make sure things stay in good form here,” he added. “You guys deserve some time to yourselves.”
Emma’s immediate family and a handful of others had followed the carriage to see them off. They waved as the couple boarded the ship.
“See you in a month!” Emma called from the deck.
“A month?” Archie sounded surprised.
“That’s why they call it a honey moon,” Snow told him, waving as the couple cast off. “Take your time!”
As the ship pulled away, Emma asked, “Where should we go first?”
“Out of earshot from the shore?” He grinned. “And then, why, wherever the wind takes us.”
“I like the sound of that.” Emma twined her arm around his waist. He kissed her temple.. Ahead of them, the eastern horizon was banded in deep violet; above, the stars had begun to come out. “Bring on the adventure.”
(The End?)
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First Impressions
Another small story in the TimeShip Psych AU @incendiaglacies created.
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Kendra Saunders knew moving to Central City was going to be different, she went from small town policing to being a detective in a major city, but she had not expected this.
CCPD worked with someone who claimed to be a psychic detective, and she was…odd was one word Kendra would use to describe her. Gorgeous was the other word she would use, as the woman had that annoying effortless look of being perfect while Kendra had spent almost an hour trying to tame her hair that morning.
The so-called psychic had appeared at the crime scene wearing black denims, a bright sparkly purple strappy top beneath a large white shirt that was open and tied at her waist, a pair of white sandals and long dangly gold earrings. She had hair that looked smooth and glossy as it cascaded down her back and looked as though her face didn’t have anything resembling pores or a blemish. She even came with her own driver, possibly lawyer from the suit he was wearing or maybe muscle. He may have been tall and lean, but the protective hover spoke volumes.
“Miss Ryder,” Captain West greeted the psychic, “Why are you here?”
The woman beamed sweetly, “I was called.”
“By who?” Harry Wells demanded, looking around accusingly at everyone while Kendra frowned confused.
Looking at him with a completely straight face and big Bambi like eyes, she said, “By him, Detective.”
All heads swivelled following where she was pointing, and Harry grimaced seeing she was pointing to the teddy bear on the couch.
“Are you kidding me?” he snapped.
Shock filled Ryder’s voice, “Of course not. Poor little thing has been traumatised by this horrible, senseless act of violence he was forced to witness.”
Harry let out an annoyed sigh, “It’s a robbery and no one was hurt.”
“What about the massacre of all Mr Ted’s friends?” Ryder demanded, moving to pick up the bear, after putting on a pair of gloves to everyone’s relief. She gestured to the bears and dolls that had been ripped apart and tossed around the room.
“Gideon,” the man standing with her said softly, “Perhaps we should leave.”
She turned to him, “Rip, I was called here for a reason.”
Kendra frowned as she saw his eyes tighten in annoyance, but he didn’t say another word.
“Captain,” Ryder said softly, “If you have no need for him, can I please take Mr Ted somewhere to soothe his nerves and get him to talk to me in a less traumatising setting?”
Captain West looked at the man standing behind Ryder, who kept his gaze steady before he nodded, “Of course.”
She gave a sweet smile and started out followed by her shadow.
“Captain?” Kendra spoke up once she was sure they were both gone, “Who was that?”
“A complete pain my ass,” Harry muttered as he passed her.
West chuckled, “That is Gideon Ryder, and although she may seem a little unusual,” they turned at Harry’s snort before he continued, “She gets results. You’ll be working with her and her partner, Rip Hunter on cases.”
“He’s her partner,” Kendra mused thoughtfully, “I was wondering why he was here. I thought he might be her lawyer from the suit.”
West and Wells shared an amused look.
“He also has a job out with their agency,” Captain West explained.
“Doing what?” Kendra couldn’t stop herself asking.
Wells let out an annoyed grunt, “Your guess is as good as ours.”
“There’s currently a pool going,” West said, “If you want in speak to Officer Barrow.”
With that said he headed out leaving Kendra and Wells to finish up.
Kendra shook her head, Central City was definitely not going to be boring.
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The Lonesome Road: Chapter 5
A03
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four
SYNOPSIS: Belle is drawn to her employers’ neighbor and is surprised when he offers to help her out of a difficult situation.
Note: Not beta-ed, expect mistakes.
Note #2: This is meant to be the last chapter, however some people have expressed interest in Cora receiving a comeuppance. Please let me know if you think I should write something in regards to that. Thank you.
Rating: M
Special thanks to @onceuponanovel for the gorgeous artwork!!!!
Belle dropped her suitcase and carpet bag in the middle of the room, took a seat on the sofa and wiggled off her wedding ring. The beautiful stone seemed to blink in the lit room, sending her a mocking wink. It had all been a sham. Rowan never cared for her; she was just someone to warm his bed, fix his meals and carrying his child.
The baby. That was all she would be taking with her. The books and clothing and whatnot was staying with him. If Rowan wants Cora, so be it. But I will not be playing second fiddle to that woman! Nor will my child be raised in an immoral house. She loved Rowan dearly – at least she had loved the good man she thought he was – but she was not about to demean herself to keep him. They’d divorce, she would take the baby and find work somewhere, and it would be like she had never known Rowan Gold. And if he loved Cora so much, he could continue on with her. Take her off Henry’s hands.
Belle placed the ring on the table and sniffed. She had thought she had cried herself out an hour ago, but she could feel the reservoir of tears was filling back up.
Wilby crept in from the kitchen and let out a small “arf” as he ambled over to her. He laid his chin on her knees and swung his gaze up to hers. His eyes seemed to be pleading, Please, don’t leave me!
Belle shook her head. She could not give in on this.
She heard the shrill peel of the truck as it stopped and the engine gave one last cough as Rowan shut it off.
Wringing her hands, she straightened her posture and braced herself, knowing that the next few minutes would not be pleasant. But it had to be done. For the baby’s sake as well as her own.
The door was shoved back, far enough to bump into the doorstop. Rowan shuffled in, carrying a large object cloaked in an old white bedsheet. Whatever it was, it obscured his view and he remained unaware of what awaited him until he put the object down…next to her suitcase and carpet bag.
Wilby shied away from the big object, wary of it.
Rowan straightened and his widened eyes flickered back and forth. Once they settled on her, he staggered back a few feet as though he had been slapped. “Belle? What are you doing? Belle?”
Belle rose and crossed her arms. Good, he was blind-sided. As was I when I learned of his affair. “I know where you were!”
“Do you?” Rowan cast a quick glance at the large, still-unidentified object.
“When we married, I could accept that you had a past.” Belle fumed, furious that he dared to act as though he were the wounded one in this. “I had a past too. But we vowed to forsake all others and you’re still carrying on with Cora Mills!”
“What? Belle, no, it’s not what you think!” He reached out to touch her arm, but thought better of it and let his arm dangle at his side.
“No, I’m talking!” Belle pressed her palm to her chest. White hot rage bubbled through her veins, giving her the courage she needed to stand up for herself. “You’re my husband! Mine! And we’re having a baby. Either you will be faithful to me or I will divorce you! Do you understand me?”
She began to feel giddy and touched her brow. Sucking in a breath, her lungs refused to contract and a cold sweat broke over her body.
“Belle, sit down!” Rowan grasped her by the shoulders and guided her back into the sofa. “Breathe for me, love.” He knelt down before her and rested his forehead against hers, rubbing his hands up and down her arms to chafe the circulation back into them. “You have to calm down or you’ll make yourself sick. Shh…”
Belle squeezed her eyes shut and took slow breaths and her body began to relax. She opened her eyes and had not realized that she was crying until a couple tears fell and Rowan brushed them off of her cheeks. Oh, how she hated that he knew how to sooth her, especially when he was the one who caused this kerfuffle.
“Why?” She locked eyes with Rowan, deciding that she deserved the truth, and wouldn’t settle for anything less. No matter how gentle he was being to her. “I thought we were happy. I thought you cared for me.”
“We are happy and I do care for you.” Rowan’s glistening eyes frantically searched hers. He stroked the side of her jaw with his knuckles. “Belle, you and the baby are my whole world. I swear on the life of our child that nothing happened.” He continued, “I was driving along and one of the Mills girls ran out onto the road to get me because Henry was gone and the lock on the door was busted in. So, I got Marco and he fixed it. Then Marco and I…we went to his barn, he has a workshop, he works with wood.”
Rowan twisted and jerked the sheet off. It was a cradle. “He taught me how to make a cradle. That cradle. It was to be a surprise. That’s where I have been the lately, with Marco.”
Belle grasped the edge of her skirt, wadding it in her sweaty fist and felt like a fool. Other than not being home the last few nights, Rowan had never given her any reason to doubt his devotion to her. Yet Cora knew how to play on her insecurities enough to stir up trouble. Dear Lord, he has to hate me now! After all, she trusted the word of the woman she despised over the word of the man she loved. Somehow it had been easier to believe that Rowan would prefer Cora; sly, cultured, beautiful Cora.
“Belle,” Rowan covered her hand, lacing his fingers together with hers. “Cora and I were involved ten years ago. I should have been honest, but I never mentioned it because I was ashamed, and I didn’t think you could look past my sins.”
“What sins?” Belle mustered, afraid of what might come to light now.
Rowan’s expression was sheepish, his mouth twisted ruefully. “Cora and I were carrying on while she was engaged to Henry Mills. She said that she’d break it off with him and that we would marry. That is what we agreed to do. Henry made investments in stocks and was prosperous for a while. Cora chose to go ahead and marry him and we went our separate ways.” He shrugged one of his shoulders and sighed. “I invested in the stock market too, and did well, but I pulled out before it crashed. I wanted to show Cora that I could make something of myself and I did. Henry stayed in too late. A couple years ago Cora wanted to reconcile, but I knew better than to get entangled with her again.”
Belle exhaled, unaware that she had been holding her breath. Cora had lied about the whole thing. Yes, she and Rowan had been involved, but she had been the one to throw him over for a fancier life. But in Rowan’s story, he showed himself to be in the wrong too, rather than laying the blame all on Cora.
“I kept my distance until…” Rowan shook his head.
“Until?” Belle probed, unable to let it rest.
“Until you went to live with the Mills’.” He finished, his voice so low that it was almost inaudible. “I’m not great with words, Belle, but I love you. I should have said so sooner.” He managed a wry smile. “I loved you for a long awhile, but you were the minister’s daughter and I didn’t think your father would have accepted me as a proper suitor.”
Belle gasped. He had loved her all this time and waited years to pursue her.
“I hope I can find a way to prove my fidelity to you.” His grip on her fingers tightened. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll-”
Belle licked her lips and cupping his cheeks, she dipped her head and kissed him. “I love you too. I’m sorry that I doubted you.”
“I’m sorry too, for keeping secrets.” Rowan replied and brushed lips against hers, then her nose, and cheeks, and forehead.
Snatching up the ring off of the end table, he slid it back on her finger.
He joined her on the sofa and was nibbling his way down her neck, easing her back into the cushions.
Belle moaned as he settled between her thighs and fumbled with her buttons on the bodice. “The cradle looks beautiful. I can’t wait to see our baby in it.” She pushed his suspenders down, untucked his shirt, slid her hands beneath the material and scraped her fingernails against his back. “What do you think of the name Gideon?”
“That’s a very fine name for a boy.” Rowan mumbled, leaving small bite marks along her collar bone. “A girl might not like it so much though. Rose would be good for a girl.”
“Sounds perfect.” Belle took his face in her hands and kissed him soundlessly.
No longer did she have to travel the lonesome road – she had Rowan and the baby. She had a family.
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