#I mean the wedding was spontaneous late at night while the city was at war with itself while you were supposed to be asleep but still
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“Ummm… you don’t know that. My brother could have been an extravagant jewelry buyer who blew through the family budget years ago.”
No way, Alisa, the man’s engagement rings were made of string.
#I mean the wedding was spontaneous late at night while the city was at war with itself while you were supposed to be asleep but still#just thought this was just a silly little goofy moment between my favorite duo#alisa montagova#rosalind lang#romajuliette#roma montagov#juliette cai#chloe gong#secret shanghai#foul lady fortune#foul heart huntsman#these violent delights#writergracethepanda#our violent ends
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Pistachio
Summary: While secret newlyweds Belle and Leland Gold are on their Saturday hamburger date, Gold’s estranged mother pays an unexpected visit. Rating: T+ Notes: Secret marriage AU in which where Gold's mother is her horrible, extra self and Belle stands up to her on Gold's behalf. Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: “We accept the love we think we deserve.” Thanks to @galactic-pirates and @maplesyrupao3 for the help.
On AO3
“Sweetheart, are you sure you don’t want to eat someplace different?” Leland Gold asked as they settled into their usual booth at their usual place.
Lunch at Granny’s Cafe was their Saturday ritual, but he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before Belle grew restless with him and his obsession with routine. His new wife was spunky, bright, and adventurous. He, on the other hand, would be more aptly described as a murky pond. Stagnant, dark, and stuck in his ways.
“It’s Saturday,” Belle replied, as he knew she would. “Do you want to eat somewhere else?”
His thoughts traveled back to the new Italian restaurant they’d spotted on their drive into town and he hesitated. Maybe next week.
“No,” he confessed, shaking his head. He unfolded his napkin and smoothed it across his lap. As long as he was with Belle, he could eat anywhere. Nothing else mattered.
In the eight weeks since they’d met, dated, and decided to marry, today wasn’t the first time he’d wondered if he could make her happy for a lifetime. Their courtship had been short, but he’d known since he first touched her icy fingers in the freezer aisle of the grocery store that Belle French was the perfect woman. To his utter amazement, she told him almost every day how lucky she was to have him for a husband. Yes, he had a brilliant, stunning wife who adored him beyond all reasonable comprehension.
Perhaps his worries were only newlywed jitters. He pushed them aside, declared himself a lucky bastard, and broke a hot biscuit open with his fingers. Since Ruby Lucas had taken over for her grandmother at the beginning of the year, the cafe had started serving complimentary biscuits to every table.
“Granny’s is my favorite. You know that!” Belle closed her menu with a grin and swatted his arm with it, teasing a snorting noise out of him. Reading the menu was a mere formality. They both knew what they were going to order.
“Was that a laugh I heard just now?” Belle asked, her eyes dancing with mirth at the running joke between them. “I’m writing this one down,” she said, pretending to rummage through her purse for paper and a pen.
The corner of his mouth turned up in an indulgent half-smile. “As you wish, my love.”
“Hey, lovebirds.” Ruby Lucas flipped open her order pad and pulled out the sharpened pencil tucked behind her ear. “Usual for you both? Extra pickles for Belle?”
Their usual was hamburgers all the way with fries and iced tea. Ruby knew the double order well after serving it every Saturday since Belle and Gold had met.
Gold nodded. “Thank you, Miss Lucas. I mean, Ruby,” he amended quickly with an embarrassed smile. Although he was new to marriage, he was not new to Storybrooke. After so many years of eating here and calling her Miss Lucas, it was hard to remember to drop the formalities. However, Ruby had not only attended their wedding, but she also happened to be Belle’s closest friend.
Marriage to her best friend made Gold her friend too, Ruby had informed him.
“Like it or not, you’re gonna get used to me, Gold,” Ruby had insisted at the wedding ceremony, then softened her sass by straightening his tie and kissing his cheek.
“How’s Granny enjoying retirement?” Belle asked. Everyone called Ruby’s grandmother Granny whether they’d known her all their lives or had only heard of the no-nonsense widow who’d founded the cafe.
“She’s great. Been into axe-throwing lately, believe it or not.” Ruby rolled her eyes and laughed. “What a hobby, right? I know she’d love for you guys to come for a visit, so I’ll set something up soon?”
“We’d like that, wouldn’t we Belle?” Gold said. His wife was nodding eagerly and he was proud of himself for accepting the unexpected invite with grace. He sat up a little taller in his seat.
“Great! So two burgers and two iced teas, extra lemon slices, and no seeds.” Ruby scribbled a note on her pad. “Should be up in a jiffy.”
“Actually, Rubes...” Belle flipped the menu open again before Ruby walked away. “I’m gonna go chicken parm and white wine. And make it the bottle, please.”
Gold furrowed his brow. Belle didn’t care for wine in general and never during the day. His face must have registered his surprise because she burst out laughing.
“Darling, I’m kidding,” she said. “The usual, please, Ruby.”
“Ruby, please bring us the usual, as well as the chicken parmesan to share. Also a bottle of white wine. The pinot grigio should do nicely with both, I think.” He winked at Belle, delighted by how the smallest concessions made her happy. “It’s Saturday. We should live it up.”
Ruby scribbled on the pad again. “Anything for one of my favorite couples.”
“We live it up all the time, Leland,” Belle said after Ruby left to put their order into the kitchen. “My idea of living it up is being with you.”
He rubbed his fingers together, an absent, nervous gesture he’d acquired sometime back in law school. “I meant doing something spontaneous.” Maybe he should have pushed for them to try the new Italian place after all.
“You planned us a two-month honeymoon in Europe beginning with Paris, my bucket list city,” she said. “That will give us plenty of opportunities to be spontaneous--in public and in private.”
She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and his face grew hot, his imagination running wild with all the ways they could get into trouble together if his wife had her way. Being arrested by the Paris police for sexy shenanigans at the Eiffel Tower wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.
“A proper honeymoon is the least I can do for you,” he countered. “Seeing as we didn’t have a proper wedding.”
“You being you is more than enough for me.” She caught his hand where it rested on the table and brought it to her mouth, placing a quick kiss at the juncture of his thumb and forefinger. “Besides, since when have we done anything the traditional way?”
The gentle reminder made him smile. It was true.
They’d been married in a quiet, candlelit ceremony out in the forest by the old, moss-covered well. Archie Hopper, the town psychiatrist who also happened to be an ordained minister, had officiated and Ruby had been a witness. Two weeks later, word hadn’t made it around town about their nuptials yet and he was secretly glad. They weren’t hiding the wedding or the marriage, but they weren’t publicizing it, either. Love shouldn’t be a spectator sport, Gold reasoned. People would find out in time, and the longer it took, the better. Small and intimate was what they both wanted. Rather, it had been what he wanted and Belle hadn’t argued. Although Belle had claimed to be fine with their quiet wedding, doubts tugged at him. What he knew about women could fit into a teacup, but the grandness of the wedding industry said otherwise. There had been no wedding cake, no reception, no confetti thrown at the blushing bride. Women liked to make a fuss, especially over happy occasions.
Two months ago, he’d met Belle on a Saturday evening in the freezer aisle at the Storybrooke Grocer. Both of them had opened up the ice cream case and put their hands on the last container of pistachio gelato. He could still feel the brush of Belle’s cold fingertips against his like an electric jolt. Awareness sparked in her eyes, an immediate connection forming between them. It was a memory he would never forget.
They tugged the carton back and forth in a playful tug-of-war, falling into a good-natured argument about whose day had been harder and therefore deserved a treat more. Belle, a librarian, argued that she’d completed and turned in two grant applications, and on a weekend. Gold, a shop owner, countered that small businesses worked every weekend. In addition, his shipment of jewelry for his antique shop had been delayed and wouldn’t be on time for an advertised sale.
“Sounds like what we both need is some company,” Gold had suggested in a rare moment of boldness with a woman. They collected their groceries and went back to his house to share the cold, nut-studded confection. Usually, he was terrible at talking to women and even worse at asking them out. With Belle, he never ran out of words to say.
They both loved books, listened to classic rock, and shared a fondness for Candy Crush. Both lived in Storybrooke alone with no family. Belle’s parents were back in Australia where she was from, and she saw them only once every two years. Gold’s father was reliving his teenage years by backpacking through Europe, while his mother lived in a New York City high-rise on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Fiona was too busy running the family commercial real estate business to make time for her son, but that was nothing new.
After talking long into the night on their first evening together, Belle and Gold had fallen asleep on the sofa with Belle’s head on his shoulder and the empty ice cream carton cradled between them. They became inseparable from that day forward. Pistachio gelato, preceded by lunch at Granny’s Cafe in the center of town, became their weekend ritual.
Melting into a life together seemed a natural next step. Six weeks to the day after their impromptu date in the freezer section, he brought Belle to the well at sunset. And in the serene glow of late afternoon light against the backdrop of a brilliant pink sky, he’d asked her to be his wife.
She leaned back in the booth and sipped her iced tea, the same serene look of contentment on her face today as when she’d said yes to his marriage proposal. Sometimes there were blessings like this, he mused. Two lonely people who found love and happiness on a trip to the grocer for a carton of ice cream.
Ruby delivered their food with her usual efficiency and a broad smile. He inhaled the comforting aromas and took a bite of his piping hot hamburger. Delicious as always.
“Mr. Gold,” Belle said with mock sternness, “we talked about the timing of our honeymoon. You had inventory at the shop to finish and I wrapped a writing workshop at the library. Alice is helping at the shop today and now that it’s May, she'll be finishing college for the term. Why doesn’t she run the store while we’re gone?”
He brightened at the suggestion. “Robin Mills might like to help. Give those two kids an excuse to spend some alone time together.”
Belle nodded in eager agreement. She’d been wanting to play matchmaker for Alice and Robin for months. “Think of it, Lee. Paris in the summer. The Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, the Champs-Élysées--there are so many places and landmarks I want to see.”
Her face was wreathed in joy, her travel dreams reflected in her bright blue eyes, and it tugged at his heart to see her so excited. “Anything you want, Mrs. Gold.”
He’d tasted the burger, now it was time to give the chicken parmesan a try. He cut into the juicy meat with gusto, forking it up with a twirl of spaghetti when disaster struck.
“Love, what is it?” Belle asked, her face draining of color. “You look like you’ve seen—”
“My mother.” He dropped the forkful of parmesan and it clattered onto the plate, splattering bits of sauce onto the tabletop.
“Your mother, what?” Belle mopped up the stains with her napkin.
“She’s here.” He gripped his cane with both hands to stop himself from shaking. There she was, wearing her usual sleek black trench coat, breezing through the front door of the cafe like she owned it.
“In Storybrooke?” Belle squeaked.
“At Granny’s.” He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. Belle had yet to meet his mother and with good reason. Fiona Blackwell was a raging bitch. His preference, if given one, would be to keep her as far away from Belle as possible for the rest of their lives. It seemed he didn’t have that kind of luck.
Belle smoothed back a wayward lock of curly auburn hair and chanced a look toward the door. “Your mother is here right now?”
“Now, and coming this way.” Gold lurched to his feet, grabbing his cane and moving to Belle’s side of the table to stand beside her. He laid a protective hand on her shoulder and braced himself for the oncoming storm. When Fiona paid one of her rare visits, it was always unannounced and always with an agenda. What would it be this time? Must be desperate if she was seeking him out at Granny’s.
Belle tugged on his sleeve and bit her lip. She knew something of his lonely home life, of course, but his mother hadn’t been a major topic of conversation beyond Gold confessing they didn’t have a strong relationship. “What if she doesn’t like me?” Belle murmured, her eyes wide and worried.
“Don’t trouble yourself, my love.” He soothed her with a tender stroke of his fingers against the underside of her face. “She doesn’t like anyone.”
Helpless, that was how he felt. If only he’d had time to warn Belle, to prepare, but his mother’s heels clicked against the floor at record speed. Frankly, he’d never expected her to show up in his town anyway.
“Hello, Malcolm.”
He glared at the woman who’d given birth to him, rendered speechless by her rudeness within seconds of her arrival. According to his birth certificate, he was Malcolm Alexander Leland Gold III, but no one ever called him by his father’s name. It had always been Gold or Leland. Only his mother found calling him Malcolm to be some glorious joke.
When he didn’t respond, Fiona arched a black eyebrow. “I believe the greeting you’re looking for is ‘hello, Mother’.”
“Fiona.” He leaned stiffly into her light hug and air kisses without returning either. “What’s it been? Three years this time?” He shook his head at her supple, glowing skin. Here he was, 42 years old, and his mother appeared to be a solid ten years younger than him, making her look closer to Belle’s age than his. “Must be tough to find a moment to visit between facelifts.”
Annoyance marched across her face to wrinkle her perfect brow and he smirked, satisfied the barb had hit its mark. May as well enjoy getting his digs in while he could. “However did you manage to find me? I don’t think this place even appears on most state maps.”
She sniffed in disdain. “Well, it wasn’t easy. Dove dropped me off at that musty little store of yours and I walked here.” Dove was the chauffeur and the one person from his joyless upbringing that he missed.
“On your own two feet? Surprised you made the two-block hike down Main Street without stopping for a latte.” He sat down next to Belle and patted her knee under the table.
“I’m a New Yorker,” Fiona said archly. “I can handle anything this podunk town throws at me.”
“Not without your Peloton and one of those Mirrors,” he muttered into his iced tea.
“Now, now. Retract your claws, dear. We shouldn’t be arguing here in public in front of this…who is this?” She gave Belle a quizzical look as if finally noticing someone else was there.
Then again, why was he surprised? His mother always did believe she was the center of the universe.
“This is Belle French,” Gold said, his mouth tight at the corners. The moment he introduced her by her maiden name, he realized his mistake. Belle stiffened beside him but she didn’t falter.
“Mrs. Gold, a pleasure to meet you,” Belle said smoothly, offering her hand across the table.
Fiona frowned at Belle’s proffered hand like it was covered in dirt. “Mrs.Gold? Pet, no one’s called me that since the day in court when I took that bastard for every cent I could squeeze.” She tittered at her own cleverness. “The name’s Blackwell. Fiona Blackwell.”
“That’s her fourth ex-husband’s name, sweetheart,” Gold supplied.
His mother did a double-take at the endearment but didn’t comment.
“Mrs. Blackwell, then.” Belle smiled, always willing to give people a chance, even in the face of blatant mockery. Some called it naivete, but Gold knew Belle’s extraordinary patience came from a generous, loving heart. She gestured toward the empty side of the booth. “Won’t you sit down?”
“Charmed, pet.” Fiona tossed her long, dark brown hair and settled into the bench across from them. “But you should really scurry along now. My son and I have things to discuss.” She ran a finger over the Formica tabletop with a distasteful shrug and looked at him. “Unless you have someplace more upscale where we can have a decent meal?”
“Perhaps Granny’s isn’t much to look at,” Belle said, “but I never judge a book by its cover. These are the best burgers in town.” She took a large bite for emphasis, making it clear she had no plans to go anywhere.
“I’m vegetarian.” Fiona exhaled sharply through her nose, regarding their hamburgers and shared chicken with disgust. “This indulgent display of animal fat is most unwelcome.”
Gold ground his back teeth. “Speaking of unwelcome, Belle and I were in the middle of a pleasant lunch. Why don’t you head back to the city, Mother?”
“Oh, dear.” Fiona’s mouth puckered. “I thought perhaps she worked in your little shop. I had no idea this was a date.”
It was a shameless fish for information and he wasn’t allowing it. He squeezed Belle’s hand under the table in a wordless apology.
“There is zero shame in working in Leland’s antique store,” Belle said crisply. She lifted her chin, daring his mother to contradict her. “It’s a charming place filled with treasures. I, however, am a librarian.”
“How quaint to play with books all day for a job,” Fiona said in a saccharine voice. “Can’t be much of a moneymaker, though.”
Gold fisted his free hand under the table, the insinuation that Belle’s profession was a waste of time making him see red. And God forbid anyone would work for the sheer joy of pursuing a passion. His refusal to work in Fiona’s commercial real estate business in favor of ‘tinkering with his toys’ was a sore point for her. With his mother, all of life came down to dollar signs.
“Belle is brilliant,” he gritted out. “And universally adored. Children wait weeks to join her reading groups and every book she recommends is in immediate demand.”
“I’m sure she’s very talented.” Fiona’s tone was cool and appraising.
“Everything okay over here with my newlyweds?” Ruby rushed over, her arm covered with steaming plates from shoulder to wrist. “Oh! You have a guest,” she said, her alarmed gaze settling on his mother. “I’ll be right with you, ma’am.”
Fiona gasped. “Did that girl just call you newlyweds?”
“That’s right.” Not caring for the attention his mother was drawing, Gold glanced around the restaurant and lowered his voice. “Belle is my wife.”
Although after today, Belle would probably demand a divorce.
His mother picked up his wine glass and quaffed the contents in one gulp.
“God, I needed that.” She set the glass down with a thump and upended the half-full bottle until the glass was filled to the top, then she drained it, too. “You’re married?” she demanded, her voice loud and shrill. “You’re married and you didn’t tell me.”
“What’s to tell?” he shrugged at her wounded expression.
“I’ve never heard of the name French.” Deciding she would get no information from him, Fiona set her shrewd sights on Belle. “Do your parents get out into New York society much? Surely they expect a reception. At the very least an announcement in the Times. ”
“My father is a florist and my mother is in market research,” Belle replied in an even voice. “But they’re back in Australia. No galas at the Met, I’m afraid.”
Fiona leaned back against the back of the banquette looking crestfallen. Her attempts to bait Belle weren’t working, so she turned back to him. “What about Milah? I always thought you and she would--”
“Mother, you are positively delusional.”
Belle crossed her arms. “Excuse me, who is Milah?”
“She was my prom date.” He threw his mother a level look and turned to Belle. “Back in prep school. Last I heard, she married another one of our classmates, Killian Jones. There’s nothing between Milah and me and hasn’t been for a long, long time. I couldn’t even tell you where she is.”
“Back to the point at hand, you’ve yet to explain why you’re here.” He glanced around the cafe again, hating the idea that they were on display. This wasn’t the way he intended to announce his marriage to Belle, in the middle of a crowded restaurant with his estranged mother wailing and rending her garments. However, he refused to give Fiona the satisfaction of more privacy. He had nothing to hide.
“What is it you’re after this time?” He pretended to study his nails. “Money? Surely you haven’t run through my father’s entire estate?”
“Really, Leland.” His mother cast Belle a shriveled sideways glance. “This is a family matter.”
“What do you know of being a family?” he bit out.
From the moment he’d seen her enter the cafe, he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t overreact or walk into her traps. Yet her very presence sank beneath his skin and rotted like a disease. “Unless you count the headmasters at the boarding schools you sent me to, I never had a family. Until Belle. She is my family, and anything you have to say can be said in front of her. We have no secrets between us.”
“Fine.” “Fiona pouted, wringing her hands. “I want you to come back to New York, son. I need your help with the business. Lily and Blue have left me and I can’t run things without you. I would make you General Council and we would share control of the firm.”
Lily Kaplan and Marianne “Blue” Azure were his mother’s business partners. Tough, calculating, and smart--the three of them had dominated the Manhattan real estate landscape for the last fifteen years. The only difference was Lily and Blue had scruples, and Gold had known it would only be a matter of time before they tired of his mother’s duplicitousness and insatiable thirst for power.
“Hell will freeze before I ever come to work for you,” he snarled. “I knew you wanted something but I never figured you would stoop to guilting me into returning to the city. To run your company? Utter madness. As I’ve told you on many occasions, I am a simple shop owner.”
“It’s your birthright, son. Your legacy. Everything I’ve created has been for you and someday it will all be yours. If you don’t want my company for yourself, think of your wife.” She turned to Belle, attempting to plead her case. “And now that you have a wife, your future children. You owe them--”
“Love is what I owe them, Mother. Which is far more important than anything money can buy, and more than you were capable of giving me.” He wrapped a protective arm around Belle’s shoulders. “Since I’m well aware you thrive on the possibility of scandal, let me save you the trouble of speculation. Belle is not pregnant, so don’t run off at the mouth telling people that’s why I married her.” ��
Panic flashed across Fiona’s face. “If you have no secrets, why are you so worried about our conversation being overheard?” Her look turned craven as she tossed his words back in his face. “Yes, I’ve seen you looking around the cafe like you’re being hunted. Don’t bother to deny it. Are you ashamed of your wife, Leland? Or is she ashamed of you?”
“Enough!” Belle said.
He’d felt her seething beside him while they’d confronted his mother, fierceness mounting with every harsh word, but until this moment he’d never seen her furious. Now her eyes were cold with rage and her lips were pinched. It was satisfying to see that his mother looked cowed, and maybe even a bit afraid.
“The only person who should feel shame here is you, Mrs. Blackwell,” Belle spat. “You have already spoiled our lunch, which has now gone cold. How dare you come here and try to spoil our happiness as well? Leland is a good, kind man and a wonderful husband. I love him, and I don’t care who knows it!”
He was awed by Belle’s courage. Awed and humbled. No one had ever come to his defense like this before. Pride and admiration made his heart swell and he put an encouraging hand on the small of Belle’s back, supporting her while she supported him.
“Despite what little acceptance you’ve shown my husband, he deserves love, and I intend to be the one to give it to him. You’ve missed your chance. There’s nothing here for you now, so please, tuck yourself back into your stretch limousine and return to where you came from. Leland Gold is too good for you.”
He wasn’t sure how long his mother sat there with her mouth open before she gathered her belongings and swept out the door in silent fury.
xoxo
Dinner that evening was a tense, pensive affair.
Too tired to attempt cooking after the emotional acrobatics of lunch with Gold’s mother, Belle had ordered pizza for early delivery. She wanted to eat and go to sleep--anything to bring this awful day to an end. There was a fresh carton of pistachio gelato in the freezer, the usual capstone to their Saturday evenings, but she doubted it would come out tonight.
After they ate, Belle curled up on the living room sofa under a blanket, the remnants of their makeshift dinner still littering the coffee table. She’d been trying to lose herself in a re-reading of Persuasion , but when she felt Gold hovering in the doorway she realized she’d read the same page five times. Abandoning the effort, she tossed the book on top of the pizza box and turned.
Having the mother-in-law from hell was reason enough to feel sorry for herself, but she was far more concerned about Gold. He looked battle-weary and drawn from his mother’s unexpected visit. Belle had lost count of the number of times he’d apologized.
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”
There it was again.
“No more!” she demanded, harsher than she intended. She threw off the blanket and went to him, lifting her hands to cradle his haggard face. “I won’t listen to you apologize for her behavior anymore.”
“The way she treated you was unforgivable.” His shoulders were slumped in defeat and he shook his head, as though he couldn’t quite distill what had happened.
“Come and sit, Lee.” She took his hand and led him to the sofa. She laid her head against his chest and tucked the blanket around them both. “She did what bullies do, love. She bullied us. But you are the one who has been hurt by her time and again all these years, so please stop worrying about me. I’m fine.”
It was no wonder that when they’d swapped stories about their upbringings, he’d been so tight-lipped about his mother. Her parents lived far from her now, all the way across the world, and she missed them. But his parents had been absent even in childhood, too busy building a legacy of money and power to give their son what he needed most--love and attention.
“We didn’t finish lunch. You barely touched your dinner.” Gold nodded toward the coffee table at the plate still holding her untouched pizza. “If you’re not upset about her, what is it? I can tell something’s bothering you. Is it me?”
Unsure of how to answer, Belle tucked her face into the nook between his neck and shoulder and closed her eyes. His cool, masculine scent gave her the most wonderful butterflies in her stomach and she sighed against his warm throat. Who wouldn’t want to feel this way every moment of every day? When they met a couple of months ago, she could hardly believe her good fortune--a handsome, charming, considerate man showed interest in her. Not only in her pretty face but in her ideas, what she had to say. In her experience, boyfriends were interested only in droning on about themselves and taking her to bed. Leland was her whole world, but she’d somehow failed to make him recognize how much she loved him.
When he’d proposed the idea of a quiet wedding, she’d readily agreed. He loathed gossip and she wanted to honor his wishes. Now she felt she’d allowed the secrecy to go too far. The presents, the fancy food, and the floor-length gown were pretty, empty nothings. Only Leland mattered. But a wedding should be an announcement, a celebration of mutual commitment.
After the way he’d behaved at the cafe earlier, though, whispering and craning his neck to see who might be watching and listening, she feared his mother’s barbs had hit too close to the truth.
Did Gold believe she was ashamed of him?
“Belle,” he said again, pulling back from their embrace to search her face. “Is it me? Am I the problem?”
“Do you want it to be you?” she asked in a careful, quiet voice.
“What?” His caramel eyes darkened with despair. “No. I don’t understand.”
She tucked her fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close so she could stare into his face. “When you asked me to marry you, I said I was fine with our private ceremony and I am, I was. But it’s been two weeks now.” She took a deep breath. “Without counting your lunatic mother, no one in town but Archie, Ruby, and Alice know we’re married. Why is that?”
Worry flitted across the angled planes of his face, and he looked away, drumming the top of the sofa with his fingers. “I thought we were having fun keeping our relationship quiet.”
She lifted his chin to give him a sad smile. “At first, yes. There’s something to be said for a little private delight. After today, though, I’m starting to wonder if you want to hide our marriage because you think I’m going to leave you, hurt you the way your mother did. And if I do make that choice, you’re safe. You’re safe because so few people know the truth.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No.” But the tremble in his lips gave him away.
“Have you ever heard the expression ‘we accept the love we think we deserve?’” she asked. “It means we only allow ourselves to receive as much love as we believe we’re worthy of. It’s silly, really, because it gives the impression that love is something to be earned, like a salary or a merit badge.” She shook her head. “You can’t do anything to deserve my love for you. It’s a gift, freely given. All you have to do is open your heart. Trust me when I say my feelings for you are real and true, and never going to fade. If anything, my love for you grows every day.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, his lips vibrating against her skin. “Belle, I’m so grateful to have your love. The day you said yes to marrying me was the highlight of my life. But I don’t want to trap you into forever if it’s not what you want.”
“It is what I want,” she said. “I love you. Today. Tomorrow. Always. And tomorrow, I’m calling the Storybrooke Mirror to announce our marriage in the newspaper.”
“Oh, Belle.” Light entered his tear-filled eyes. He took her mouth in a hot, desperate kiss that had her gasping and tearing at his clothes, needing to touch him and be touched in return.
“Belle.” He pressed her back into the sofa and gathered her to himself, cradling her close. “My sweetheart.” More kisses seared her throat, her shoulders, her breasts, their clothes melting off their bodies into puddles on the floor. “I love you,” he muttered between kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
A long time later, he lifted his head from her chest. They were lying in a tangled heap on the floor, the room plunged into darkness. Belle guessed it was sometime in the middle of the night. They had spent hours making love, forgetting about his mother and other people’s opinions in favor of losing themselves in each other.
“There’s only one thing that could make this better,” Gold said, then pressed a kiss behind her ear.
Belle stretched beneath his body, feeling luxurious and sated. The nightlight from the adjacent kitchen illuminated his body, and his voice was raspy and thick with sex, making her want to pull down the blanket resting on his hips and shower him with love all over again.
“Gelato?” she guessed with a giggle.
“ Pistachio gelato.” He kissed her nose and groped in the dark for his boxer briefs. “Wait here, wife. I’ll be right back.”
“Leland?” Still sprawled on the floor in decadent laziness, Belle propped herself up on one elbow.
“Yes?” He paused in the doorway en route to the kitchen, his hair sticking up at ridiculous angles.
She was going to be able to wake up to that crazy hair and this beautiful man every day for the rest of her days. There was no more glorious way to spend a life.
“Don’t forget the spoon.”
###
#rumbelle#rumbelle fic#rumbelle au#mr. gold x belle french#secret marriage#the black fairy#a monthly rumbelling#rumbelle angst#rumbelle fluff#mqc writes
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can you do a dating bree Barrow would include? Or any of the Barrow brothers
I'm on the third attempt to post, the first time I lost everything because the light went out and I hadn't saved a word, the second my very old laptop started to act crazily and deleted everything (would you believe it if I told you it's eleven years old? Well, believe it), let's see if I finally manage to publish the only thing that has sparked something in the very low will to live that I have at the moment. If you want to know what it would be like to date other characters (and not only from the RQ universe) just ask and know that you’ll be a blessing in my boring days.
Bree Barrow
in the Stilts he was renowned for not being properly boyfriend material and more a one-night-stand type of guy, but when he saw you for the first time he understood that you were different, to the point of having talked about you also with his siblings
the first time you actually spoke was at one of Davidson's parties, but he decided to approach you only after his siblings unceasingly made fun of him for not being able to take his eyes off you and generally behave like a shy teenager
when he actually shoot his shots it was late in the night and most of the people have already left. He was pretty straight-forward with his intensions and after the party ended he offered to accompany you home, but you suggested to go star gazing, where he kissed you for the first time
at first he was kind of clumsy, but let’s just say he made up for his mistake later in the night and in the morning too, leaving you exhausted and covered with little love marks
you quickly discovered that dating him is like adopting a bear: he’s 6’3 feet of muscles, has a huge beard and he’s super protective, but at the same time all he wants to do is explore the woods, eat and cuddle
he often makes great fun of you for being so small compared to him but he takes such advantage of it, carrying you around everywhere and during sex too
you don’t argue much, but when it happens it always ends in heavy make-out sessions where he cups your face and says sorry even if it’s not his fault because he’s so afraid of losing you
when you officially meet his family for the first time they all adore you since it’s clear you make him so happy and he deserve it, but his siblings are a little jealous because you’re going to steal him from them sooner or later
turns out is sooner than they thought because Bree asks you to marry him just a year after you started dating in the cutest way ever and when you say yes he’s so happy he lifts you off the ground and starts spinning around
even at the wedding, reading his vows, he manages to make you laugh so hard you start to cry and when it’s finally the moment to kiss him, you have to stand on your tip toe to reach for his mouth
Tramy Barrow
you’re like a daughter to Carmadon, and when Mare introduced her brother who loved gardening to him, he thought he found the perfect match, and he was right but your first date was a flop because he was too worried he could in no way impress you since you already have and saw everything Montfort have to offer
you were the one who insisted in going out a second time since you were sure he had much more to offer than superficial conversations and general compliments and he proved it by setting up a simple picnic with everything you said you liked to eat and drink in a beautiful meadow he discovered while hiking with his brother Bree
being a tender and spontaneous guy, you ended up spending the afternoon sitting between his legs making flower crowns and watching small wild animals, all while listening to his incessant stories about his family’s shenanigans
when it started to get dark he accompanied you home and since he was afraid Carmadon was watching you, and he’s a very private person, instead of kissing you properly he kissed your forehead and it became kind of your thing
to ask you out again he sent the biggest bouquet of wildflowers you ever saw with a note where he called you his dear, which started the nickname war. He genuinely loves when you call him “my love”
his approach is very different his brothers’ as he likes to take his time with everything he does, so even if your make-out sessions are pretty passionate, you waited a little before having actual sex and focused more on foreplay. He has a particular fondness for oral sex, both given and received, and engages in long conversations after you’re both satisfied
you met his family one member at a time, starting from Gisa, that became basically your best friend, and leaving his parents as the last. They were nice most of the time but Ruth was a little weird at first since Tramy’s her favourite son
you moved together pretty fast for his standards, let’s say after a year and a half of dating, because he felt like you both needed more privacy and to start to have your own domestic life and Carmadon was more than happy to provide you the perfect place, a small cottage with a big bathtub and a flourishing garden right out of the city
you had just one big fight and when you started to cry he crumbled completely and begged you to forgive him and not going back to Carmadon’s house because you mean the world to him
he asked to marry you after three years and a half of living together and he planned to do it in the most cheesy and romantic way ever but he somehow spoiled the surprise. You said yes nonetheless
Shade Barrow
you were stationed in the same place, but you properly met only through one of his famous jokes, which ended up backfiring at him since you’re the one and only prank master and nobody can steal the throne from you
quickly you ended up orbiting toward each other, flirting a lot and inventing all sorts of excuses to spend time together, until the inevitable and pleasant clash happened
in the beginning yours wasn’t a real relationship but rather occasional sex since it’s already difficult to be soldiers but it becomes practically impossible when you have someone else you care for in the trenches
you had sex nearly everywhere, even in places where you would’ve been shot on the spot if someone found you, but you just couldn’t get enough of each other
what was between you made a step forward when Shade told you about the Scarlet Guard and you decided to join the group that met Farley, showing not only that you had total trust in each other but that you weren’t able to conceive the possibility of being separated too, which was a constant through all your love story
even if the situation made things pretty serious faster than you expected, Shade waited to declare his love for you but his playful façade broke after the Sun Shooting, when he though you’ve been captured too. He was having a breakdown with Rasha, saying the cruel things he would’ve done to the Silvers if they hurt the only person he thought he could ever love, when you arrived behind him. Once he was done talking, you asked him if you really were the only person he thought he could love and without saying a word he held you in the longest and tightest hug ever
from that moment on, he didn't stop introducing you to everyone as his partner, and he only stopped when he proposed and you said yes, but only because he started to call you his fiancée
although many got married before the end of the war, he decided to wait to give you the wedding you've always dreamed of, decision supported practically by all his family
you saved him from Ptolemus, shooting, but not killing, him, and even if he tries to make it look like it’s not a big deal, he’s very grateful and shows you in every possible way
when the war ended you did all those things that the conscription had prevented you from doing like going on romantic dates, getting drunk, going skinny dipping and traveling
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New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/travel/shared-grief-and-memories-make-notre-dame-a-unifier-online/
Shared grief and memories make Notre Dame a unifier online
As foreign leaders expressed solidarity with France as it mourned the damage at Notre Dame Cathedral, people around the world shared their grief on social media along with unforgettable memories from the Paris landmark.
They posted selfies and family photos that were taken at Notre Dame days, years or decades before a fire burned through the Gothic churchs roof and brought down the spire on Monday. Some wrote of their disbelief. Others, saying no words adequately expressed their feelings, posted dramatic images of the architectural masterpiece engulfed in flames or the spire falling.
For the French people, the extensive damage felt like a wound to the national identity and served as a reminder of their heritage from the France that was devoutly Christian before secularism became the law of the land.
But millions of international visitors have been to Notre Dame, a must-see during school trips, honeymoons and family vacations. The cathedral has moved people of faith but also inspired non-believers, all finding wonder in the light filtered through stained-glass rose windows and a reward for making it to the top of the stairs.
Even people who havent visited yet said they struggled to come to terms with the loss. The Rev. Philip Hobson, pastor of Mt. Sinai Congregational Church, United Church of Christ in Mt. Sinai, New York, said he felt a connection from movies, putting together puzzles of those famous stained glass windows with his family, and now seeing the pictures and comments of his parishioners.
Our assumptions of what is permanent are challenged. Not sure what to make of all of it, Hobson wrote on Facebook.
Moscow photographer Evgeny Feldman said Notre Dame has been part of an arrival ritual for his trips to the French capital.
It has always been a magical moment for me – to fly into Paris, drop your bags, take the bikes and take a ride by the facade of the cathedral late at night, Feldman wrote on Facebook.
I very much hope that in a few years, in a few decades, I will still be able to take a bike at night (or a hover-board!) and take a ride on the square in front of it and gaze in amazement at the sculpture, towers and stain glass, the 28-year-old wrote.
Famed primatologist Jane Goodall recalled in a posted excerpt from her book Reason for Hope how a visit to Notre Dame during the 1970s marked an epiphany in my thinking about my place on Planet Earth and the meaning of my life.
Goodall said gazing at a rose window in the mostly vacant church, hearing a piece by Bach playing in a distant corner for a wedding, was a suddenly captured moment of eternity and perhaps the closest I have ever come to experiencing ecstasy, the ecstasy of the mystic.
How could I believe it was the chance gyrations of bits of primeval dust that had led up to that moment in time – the cathedral soaring to the sky; the collective inspiration and faith of those who caused it to be built; the advent of Bach himself, she wrote.
Ying Xin, a Chinese dancer with the Martha Graham Dance Company in New York, posted a on Instagram of a dance she improvised in front of Notre Dame last year. Reminiscing about her spontaneous performance, she said she was inspired to dance in front of the monument while walking around Paris on her first night in the city.
It was dark out and the cathedral was stunning all lit up at night. It was the perfect Paris moment, she wrote.
The French president has said he would seek help from the greatest talents in the world to rebuild Notre Dame within five years. Many foreign governments said they were considering contributions to what would be a significant architectural undertaking.
Polish Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki recalled how predominantly Catholic Poland rebuilt the capital of Warsaw after German bombs caused vast destruction during World War II.
We will rebuild the Cathedral of Notre-Dame together as Europeans, he vowed.
Rich Matthews, 43, attended a Catholic school in Kansas City as a boy, Notre Dame de Sion. He made a point of seeing the Paris cathedral in 2015, right after coordinated terrorist attacks on Nov. 13 killed 130 people in the city.
His children, ages 6 and 7 at the time, were frightened after the attacks even though they lived in Dallas, Texas. The older one had just attended her first concert – Ariana Grande – and declared she never would go to another after the Paris attackers chose a stadium concert as one of their targets.
My wife and I decided to teach our young children a lesson. We would not be afraid, we would not stop going to things, Matthews said. We had time if we could do our family Thanksgiving Thursday afternoon, we could leave right after it and get back Sunday and be at work and school on Monday. And thats what we did.
He posted a photo of the family in front of Notre Dame with the words: Glad we saw it.
Nataliya Vasilyeva and Kate dePury in Moscow and Sylvia Hui contributed to this report.
Full AP coverage at
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