Autumn Nostalgia: Post #3
Here we are again, and this little prompt fic drabble can be looked at a hint of things to come as well as a look back. It’s a Naval Beauty/Jeweled Beauty/LiamxBelle, and I have always been more than a bit partial to it, short as it is. It does not necessarily have anything to do with Halloween, but I always pictured it taking place in the midst of an autumn storm, so I am putting it into this Fall-themed mix of stories. In future I hope to do a set of one-shots on the “Belle deserved better” theme, imagining other ways her story on the show could have ended. We’ll call this a tiny preview…
“Deluge (What a Kiss Should Be)”
by: @snowbellewells
Belle was just locking the door, balancing awkwardly in the rainy deluge that had washed over Storybrooke all day and now into the evening, as she attempted to juggle the ring of keys in her hand, her bag of books and paperwork to carry home, her purse, and her empty travel mug of that morning’s tea without spilling them all on the wet pavement, when she heard her name called through the downpour. Her breath caught in her throat, startled both that anyone would be out on the street in this driving rain, or that anyone would be so desperately in need of finding her. Ever since Rumple’s disappearance some six months ago (tinkering with some spell he yet hoped would free him from the dagger, she figured resignedly) she had been basically alone to go about her days as she pleased. She had friends, of course, but at the end of the day it was usually just she and her books curled up together, and though it could be a bit lonely, it was certainly better than constantly dreading what she might next learn her spouse had done to hurt everyone else they knew.
For a moment her heart began to race all too quickly, the hoarse, accented voice calling her name again, barely muffled by the water cascading between them, before adding on the plea, “Please, Lass, at least look at me…”
The racing of her heart picked up, but no longer from fear, as she recognized the accent was not that of her missing spouse, but the lilting cadence of the man who now held her heart - though she couldn’t admit it to him. If she let it, even with the wind howling around the edges of his words and the pattering of water drops in serenade, this voice could soothe her as easily as the gentle roll of the ocean’s waves themselves. But for his own good, she had to keep her distance. If Rumple returned to find her with another…
Keeping her back turned toward the library door she had been locking for the night, Belle shook her head vigorously, even as she began to tremble all over with the effort of holding herself back, to keep from turning to look up at that rugged, careworn face she wanted to drink in and never stop. Though she was determined, it was still all she could do not to run to him, calling his name in return, and be swept up in his strong, work-hardened arms like the heroine in one of her beloved novels. Pressing her mouth closed tightly, she shook her head and forced herself to say nothing.
It did no good, as she heard his heavy tread splashing through the sidewalk puddles to reach her, and then his hand was on her arm, turning her gently to face him at last. A protest was on her lips, even as she looked up to meet his stormswept gaze, but all words died on her tongue at the look within those grey-blue depths. She intended to send him away, to remind him of the damage the Dark One could do to anyone who touched what he perceived as “his”, to argue that she was only trying to protect him. But instead she melted into his tall, solid frame as he did indeed gather her up and nearly lift her off her feet in his embrace. She was standing on her very tiptoes as her hands found their way up to his shoulders without her conscious decision.
“Liam, I…” she started breathlessly, the rain blurring her vision of everything but him, and the air giving out in her lungs at his nearness before she could finish.
As if reading her thoughts, Liam Jones shook his head once impatiently before leaning down to press his forehead to hers and then speaking lowly, with breathtaking fervor. “I don’t care what might happen. I have never felt this way, in life or afterlife, and I will not let fear rob us of what we might have.”
Looking up at him, thinking hazily that he sounded as though he came off the pages of the Brontës themselves, she could merely agree, her unhappy resistance not that strong. Nodding her consent, in the next instant he was cradling her head, arms wrapped around her to cushion her slim shoulders as she was pressed against the outer wall of her precious library. His mouth was ravenous, all-consuming, and Belle could only marvel that this must be how a kiss what meant to feel. Snaking her fingers up to tangle in his disheveled, soaked curls, she returned the kiss with equal hunger, sinking into him as the rain fell all around.
Tagging a few who may enjoy: @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @shireness-says @thisonesatellite @let-it-raines @thislassishooked @winterbaby89 @stahlop @donteattheappleshook