What I think should happen after Nico and Gideon take an unconscious, newly returned Libby back to their apartment in NYC. (Nico x Gideon)
(just a short blurb!! because i love them)
So basically, I haven't read the Atlas Complex (starting it right now) and I decided to write what I think should happen next. (Preface: Libby came back from 1989 and like, passes out on Gideon. right after he and Nico KISSED!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!! They basically took her back to their apartment and put her in one of their rooms to let her rest, and that's where this story starts).
946 words
Nicolás Ferrer de Varona x Gideon Drake
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪𖤐
Gideon sighed, the gentle click of the door sounding behind him as he turned to face Nico. The man before him looked like he had been dragged across concrete-- which, well, he probably had been. His eyebags looked especially more pronounced in the dim hallway lighting, his angelic hair was matted, stuck to his face, his body occasionally shaking with recovering shudders. Gideon took a step. Then another. Nico had barely been able to transport them a mile or so into the city before the Paris city cops showed up to the bridge, and therefore the scene of the crime. When they had fled, the various piles of rubble around them had begun to catch on fire and regular chunks of the cobblestone bridge would tumble loose, landing with deep splashes in the river below.
The blue and red sirens had all but blinded Gideon, the wailing and raving of the sirens lost to his ears-- his eyes locked on the unconscious woman in his arms and the soft lasting tingle on his lips. He had heard vague shouts or commands from Nico-- or was it the police?-- before he was zipped away, clutching onto Libby’s singed shirt and Nico de Varona’s bleeding arm. He only remembers flashes after that, it was a hazy blur- a blur of Nico and his unimaginable, idiotic, gorgeous confidence. His radiance. His eyes resembled wine, he remembered, liquid as the fine celebratory drink of Greek victors, his chest alive with the thrum of adrenaline and fear, his mind weary and closed off.
And there he was. Nico Ferrer de Varona. Standing right in front of him, 5 feet at most, yet miles away. He took another- this time hesitant- step. The air seemed to be a bit different now, not that Gideon cared. All he cared about was Nico, and currently, there was blood still trickling down the side of his face from a cut right above his eyebrow.
There was a familiar surge of something furious and roaring in Gideon's chest.
Behind them was the door to the room that contained the unconscious body of Libby Rhodes. It felt out of place. It felt like something in your periphery that you just can’t get rid of, no matter how hard you tried, always lingering. Like how once you notice your nose, you can’t unsee it. He could tell that Nico was obviously anxious and confused about his year-long gone friend by the way his gaze slid sluggishly past Gideon and to the door with an uncomfortably large presence. It was only when Gideon had taken the two final steps forward and reached out his hand, his fingers gently brushing the underside of Nico’s jaw, his thumb swiping delicately across his face, right next to his tired, glimmering eyes, that Nico finally looked at him.
“Hi,” Nico breathed. Gideon smiled with demonic fondness.
“Hi.”
The brunette swallowed, then blinked a few times, rapidly, his eyelashes brushing against the side of Gideons thumb. He stared up at Gideon. “Hi. Cómo estás?”
Gideon snorted quietly and took a steadying breath, dropping his hand from where it had ghosted over Nico’s face, and moving to take a step back.
“Muy bien, más o meno--” He was abruptly cut off as Nico grabbed his arm, stopping him from moving anywhere.
“Gideon,” Nico’s head tilted downwards, which lurched something in Gideon. Not only could he not see Nico’s beautiful face, but he was clearly, and justifiably, overwhelmed. Nico wore his heart on his sleeve. The Cuban in front of him murmured a few incoherent words before tugging Gideons arm to his chest, both hands moving to clutch at the palm and back of Gideons hand, trapping Gideon in what could only be described as a Hand Sandwich. Carefully, to the pace of their own simultaneously beating hearts, Nico threaded his fingers through Gideons. Gideon stared at Nico, his eyes wide and unblinking. Nico now clutched their interlocked hands like a lifeline-- or more like a consciousness line in his case-- and bent his head even more, pressing his lips to the zipper of trembling fingers. He stayed there for a moment, his eyes closed, as if in prayer, before leaning forward and resting his head on Gideons chest.
Gideon quickly brushed at his burning eyes with his free hand, his breathing was becoming quicker and quicker, and he didn’t know if he wanted to break down sobbing or… well, break down and sob.
Nico made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded as vulnerable as Gideon felt.
Gideon wrapped an arm around him, around his torso, pulling him closer, closer, burying his face in messy auburn hair.
“Tu m'as manqué,” He whispered. He felt Nico shift.
“Je vous aime.”
Gideon’s heart stopped in his chest-- first sputtering then ultimately coming to the conclusion that it needed to stop. He could feel the pressure of Nico’s hand, squeezing his hand tighter, leaning further into him, begging him to not leave and to not turn away. As if that was something he could ever possibly consider. Gideon wanted to scream, ferally. To shout, to bellow these words from the tops of the tallest New York skyscraper, with megaphones, pots and pans, letting the whole fucking universe know what was, and will always, forever be true.
“Je t'aime aussi.” Nico’s head snapped up, eyes hesitant and searching yet the most certain Gideon was sure he'd ever seen them. “Idiota prince.” Gideon leaned forward and pressed his lips to the warm corner of Nico's mouth, his free hand coming up to brush the hair from Nico’s face.
a big lesson for me was learning that most things are not as fragile as I’d believed. missing a class, or turning in a bad assignment, won’t instantly destroy your professor’s opinion of you. accidentally saying something harsh won’t make your friend want to end the friendship. it takes work to repair these things - it takes effort and research and sometimes a sincere apology - but you can do that because they’re not irreparably broken. what you’ve worked to build, in academia and in relationships and in life, is stronger and more enduring that your mind may teach you to believe. don’t let imagined fragility lead you to giving up
gentle reminder you can rise up from everything. you can recreate yourself. nothing is permanent. you are not stuck. you have choices. you can think new thoughts. you can learn something new. you can create new habits. all that matters is that you decide today and never look back.
gentle reminder you can rise up from everything. you can recreate yourself. nothing is permanent. you are not stuck. you have choices. you can think new thoughts. you can learn something new. you can create new habits. all that matters is that you decide today and never look back.
Rechnet mit der DUMMHEIT der anderen im Straßenverkehr.
Ich und mein Fahrlehrer wurden heute fast seitlich, von einem Rentner der uns bei 100 km auf der Landstraße überholen, wollte erwischt.
Zum Glück haben wir direkt eine Vollbremsung hingelegt. Trotzdem ist das Auto vielleicht 20-30 cm nur an uns noch vorbeigekommen.
Mein Fahrlehrer ist jetzt nicht der Beste weil er die meiste Zeit aggressiv ist aber als er dann den Renter hinter her ist und auf den Edeka Parkplatz eine Standpauke gehalten hat war er mir sympathisch.
Ich schwöre der hätte sich mit den Opa geboxt, wenn ich nicht dabei gewesen wäre. Der war aber auch Null einsichtig.
Heute schon wieder von den Ü40-jährigen Kollegen verurteilende Blicke abbekommen.
11:20 Uhr hab ich mir in meinen Büro ein schönes Ei was ich vom Frühstück noch über hatte reingezogen, da ich mit dem was ich bisher bekommen habe fertig war und erst nach dem Mittag etwas Neues machen kann.
Natürlich kommt dann ein Kollege rüber um Hallo zu sagen (um 11:20 Uhr muss er selber mal merken) , guckt mich nur angewidert an, sagt Hallo und geht.
God forbid a girl is hungry and finished with their work.
PS: War gerade übrigens noch am Schälen der Eischale.
*Long cigarette drag* every thing reminds me of them *blows smoke out* every time I see a romantic anything I think of them *short but deep cigarette drag* *coughing fit* it's like I can't escape (stray kids reference) it's gotten so bad it's just circling back on itself *slow cigarette drag* I'll see one of them and it reminds me of the other *half exhale* which reminds me of the parallels with the other *quick drag* *quick release* and it gose on and on it's bad *puts out cigarettes in a way that follows fire safety rules* don't be like me
Wieso erinnert man sich abends an so Random peinliche Momente?
Vor paar Jahren hab ich mal um meine Note in Musik aufzubessern etwas auf dem Klavier vorgespielt. Hatte an diesem Tag meine Noten vergessen und am Ende gefreestylt. Ging auch alles gut nur das Tempo war manchmal ein bisschen zu schnell. Das Stück hieß halt Die Quelle.
Ich will so zurück auf meinen Platz, jedoch hält mich meine Musiklehrerin auf. Sie fragt mich nochmal wie das Stück heißt und ich so verwirrt die Quelle.
Sie sagt so vor der ganzen Klasse, dass es sich ja nicht danach angehört hat an manchen Stellen, aber so richtig gehässig und abwertend. Da wollte ich im Boden versinken.
Um es nochmal zu betonen, das Ganze war nur um den Musikunterricht etwas besser zu gestalten. Ich war auch nicht die Einzige die etwas gemacht hat doch es war für alle bodenlos nach ihrem Stück.
Ende der Geschichte ich habe in meiner letzten Musik KA dann erstmal ne 3 oder 4 geschrieben und dann Musik abgewählt. Das Klavier / Orgel spielen hab ich auch aufgegeben, weil ich alle Stücke nur auswendig gelernt habe, da mein Gehirn auch nach Jahren keine Noten lesen konnte.
kianamaiart
stormborns
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origamiaround
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