notalwayslate

[notalwayslate]

I can’t wait to read this this weekend and gush over it!

Giftee: @notalwayslate Merry Christmas, dearie! I have had the most fun being your Santa. I've seen many years of RSS come and go, but this is my first year participating and I couldn't have asked for a better giftee and prompt. Writing this fic has brought a lot of joy to my holiday season and I can only hope that it brings a little bit to yours too ♥ | AO3 LINK |

Prompt: "her picture in a locket"

Summary: Rumplestiltskin's heart beats with a singular purpose – to reunite with his lost son. But his heart only has so many beats left before it fully gives into the Darkness. An enchanted locket known as "The Heart's Caretaker" may be his only chance to save what little light still burns within him. He just needs it to reveal the one person in the realm destined to banish his shadows and bring love back into his world.

| 'Skin Deep' prologue, very Rumple centric, character studies, canon divergence, verbal sparring, Marchlands world-building, Jefferson & Rumple friendship, background Papafire, hyper-fluffy epilogue |

"Portrait of the Heart" | (5/5) | (12.7k) | AO3 LINK | 🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄

[notalwayslate]

There Can Only Ever Be

My Rumbelle Secret Santa gift for eirian-houpe.tumblr.com/

Prompt: There can only ever be

I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Over the years he stays in the shadows watching over her in case she needs him, but he soon realizes he needs her even more.

AO3: There Can Only Ever Be... - notalwayslate - Once Upon a Time (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

There can only ever be…protection.

Rumford Gold slipped into the pawnshop as his ankle throbbed from the harsh February snowfall. He was so tired that he almost missed the envelope that lay near his feet. Crouching down he snatched it from the floor. It was the wrong size to be any official city document, and too light to be a rent payment.

Curiously, he slid a finger under the flap gently tugging it open. He was surprised to pull out a pressed red rose with a small blue ribbon tied to the stem, along with a small handwritten note.

For your kindness

Belle

He stared at the note with a mixture of surprise and awe before making his way to the back of the store. He reached for the unbleached muslin fabric, a luxury he reserved for the shop’s most valuable treasures, placing a yard of it down on his desk. With trembling hands, he gently placed the pressed rose onto the fabric, along with her note.

Kindness was a gentler emotion that had long fallen by the wayside over the years, a casualty in his rise of becoming the town monster…or so he had thought. When he had seen the girl outside his shop a few days prior selling roses on Valentine’s Day in the blistering cold he felt an unwavering connection to her.

He had no doubt her father, Moe French was warmly tucked away at the Rabbit’s Hole, in a drunken haze, as his daughter tried to make ends meet for that month. He knew all too well a life with a father who shirked his responsibilities in preference for a carefree alcohol induced neverland.  It had made him the cold ruthless man he was today.

He did not want the same outcome for her. She was pure hearted, and he wanted to protect the light within her before life snuffed it out.   

With an overcoming surge of protectiveness, he had gone to her, buying the entire stock of flowers for double the asking price, wanting desperately to get her out of the cold.

Having not thought his plan out thoroughly, he refused to take the dozens of roses he had just purchased drawing a quizzical look.

“Give them to any desperate soul you see fit, and go get yourself warm, Ms. French,” he had instructed leaving her without a second glance.

It was not until the next day, when he entered Granny’s for a cup of coffee, did he learn the town was abuzz with chatter over his generous flower donation to Storybrooke hospital. It appeared that Ms. French was not aware that such an act of kindness did not match his monstrous reputation, or perphaps she saw something within him that others did not.

That evening as he climbed the wide grand staircase of his pink Victorian home with a heavy step, he could not help but think of Belle French. At merely twenty years old with her petite frame and twinkling innocent eyes it was hard for his desperate soul not to be drawn to her.

  Her simple words of his kindness sparked a flame that burned away the cobwebs wrapped around his bitter heart. In that moment, he made a deal with himself. He would protect her from the darkness of this world and give her the freedom to escape the mundane life that awaited no matter the cost.  

There can only ever be…distance.

It was not the responsibility nor cost of his decision that scared him, but the careless misjudgments she would face, if anyone ever learned he was helping her. He had to be meticulous, every plan, every action needed to be guarded with strict anonymity.  

He acted quickly, crossing every T and dotting every I to get the historical Storybrooke nonprofit up and running. Months later it was announced during the city council meeting that an anonymous donation had been given for the renovation and reopening of the Storybrooke public library, along with a two-year scholarship for a future librarian.  

He could not contain his sheer joy when a few weeks later his foundation received her application and personal essay for the scholarship. He knew the girl who always had a book in hand could not resist such an opportunity. He had hoped she would apply, but if not, he would have produced a thousand and one different opportunities for her until he found the right one.

A knot formed in his throat as he read the words of the vibrant beauty whose life was darkened by the silent tribulations of her mother’s passing, and her father’s addictions. Her love of books is evident as she speaks of their power and wonderment carrying her through a life of loneliness and heartbreak.

Images of her flicker through his mind, her on a park bench, her at granny’s, every time he pulls up another memory, he realizes she is always alone. He admires her isolation. His own has made him hard as a rock, but hers is more of a closed book, waiting for another to open it.

He wastes no time in selecting her for the scholarship.  Knowing she will need to start classes in the fall, he uses his contacts in the restaurant and hotel industry to keep her father’s flower shop in high demand for the foreseeable future. No longer would she need to stand on the corner selling roses, as there would be an abundance of income for her father to squander away while still maintaining the bills. In two years, the library renovation would be complete, she would graduate, and he would be there to see it all from the shadows.

There can only ever be…crippling desire.

He was a monster. As hard as he tried, he could not quench the pangs of lust and desire that filled his mind and loins as he vigorously sought his own satisfaction alone in his bed. Every time he swore it would be the last, but visions of Belle’s long pale legs, and crystal blue eyes chipped away at his sanity leaving him in a sticky mess.

In hopes of tampering down his degenerative thoughts, he tries desperately to ignore her presence whenever she is near, but he cannot help but notice how her eyes light up, and a rare smile graces her lips when she sees him.  He knows that she purposefully awaits his arrival Saturday mornings at Granny’s, waiting till he sits at the counter for his cup of coffee, to place down her beloved book and update Granny on her schooling so that he may hear it as well.

She is a clever girl, and he knows if anyone could dig through the mountains of paperwork to discover the identity of the anonymous donor, it would be her.

 More than once he caught himself staring at her lips, wondering what her mouth tasted like. Emotionally drained from fighting his primal desires, he had no choice but to close himself off from the temptation of her. He stopped frequenting Granny’s, spending his days and nights in solitude feeling excruciatingly tired and old.

He had gone seven months without a glimpse of her until the night he heard a scuffle coming from the alleyway near the back of the pawnshop. When he went to investigate a blinding fury rushed his veins as he saw Belle struggling to break free of the grasp of Keith Nottingham. The drunken creep was no match for the ferocity of his cane, as he pummeled him blow after blow. He does not stop until he catches her frightened face out of the corner of his eye. His focus turns to her, allowing Keith to scurry away in a bloody heap.

 Without warning she embraces him, and he in return wraps his arms protectively around her shoulders, ensuring her that she is safe now. He moves to pull back so he can see her face, but she squeezes him tighter to her. He can feel each of her fingers pressed tightly into the muscles of his back, as he leans his temple on the top of her head, murmuring comforting words into her hair.  He does not let go until she releases him first. He takes a moment to scan over her for injuries and lets out a relieved sigh when he does not see any.

Blood roars in the hollows of his chest as he listens to her recount how she was on her way to the Rabbit Hole to check on her father, when Keith had approached her in search of a good time.

The muscle in his cheekbone twitches as he dreams of all the ways he is going to make that bastard pay for ever laying a finger on her. So consumed in his thoughts of vengeance, he is startled as her warm hand slips into his own.

“But I’m okay,” she reassures him clearly sensing the frenzied tension radiating from him. “Thanks to you.”

Gazing upon her heavenly face, guilt seeps into his bones. It was his job to protect her, but how could he do so efficiently when he also had to protect her from himself.

“You need not worry about your father. Leroy knows to contact me if Moe gets…” his words tamper on his lips, as her brows furrow together in confusion from the revelation. Tilting his head to the sky, he looks toward the stars, cursing his loose tongue. He never wanted her to know that to ease her burden, he had a set ears and eyes on her father’s indiscretions.  

“Can you call Leroy and see if he is, okay? It is just…,” he watches her chew on her bottom lip struggling to continue. “It’s the 10th anniversary of my mother’s death, and I know how hard it can be for him.”

Closing his eyes he nods silently, relieved that she did not immediately hurl disgust and accusations upon him for his stalker intrusion into her family life. Pulling out his flip phone, he calls Leroy.

“Where is he?” he asks acutely aware of her worried gaze upon him. He can hear the low murmurs of the bar in the background, as Leroy provides an update. Hanging up, he informs her that her father will be home shortly, safe and in one piece.

 He could sense her mind was flickering with so many questions, but she gave not one a voice. Instead, he found himself in her arms of gratitude once more. The hairs on the back of his neck stand upright and his heart races at the feel of her pressed tightly against him. It is he who pulls back from her this time, wrestling for self-control.

 She had just experienced a traumatic event and was merely looking to him for comfort, and here he was trying to tame the growing erection in his pants. He could feel his resolve crumbling, and knew he had to get her home safely before he or his tented crotch revealed his true feelings for her.  

He would have gladly walked behind her giving her a wide enough berth as to not taint her reputation, however she chose to walk along side of him.

His mouth forms a small sheepish smile as he watches their shadows move together in time along the pavement. It had been so long since he heard her voice that his ears soaked up every syllable as she mutters of her upcoming graduation, and the library’s opening.

All too soon they reach her home above the flower shop. With a sigh he runs his hand through his hair forcing a painful smile, knowing that his time with her has come to an end. 

There is a curious note to her voice, a barely hidden hope lingering beneath, when she asks,

“Mr. Gold…would you...” her words are cut off by slurred hooting and laughter in the distance.

Turning his head, he could make out Leroy’s small figure holding up a clearly inebriated Moe French. The sight soothes his worry that she will not venture out again that night in search of her father.   With a curt bow, he bids her farewell, pretending not to see her eyes, searching his own with his fleeting glance.

That night as he lay in his bed, his mind pondered what it was she was going to ask him. He thought of her rosy, red cheeks, and the adoring innocent gleam of something more in her eyes when she had gazed upon him that night. As much as his heart dreaded it, he knew what needed to be done.

There can only ever be…goodbye.

He was there when she graduated. A silent shadow in the stands mixed among a hundred other faces. He watched in awe as she took her first step towards a new life with her diploma in hand. Her father and others gathered around her in congratulations after the ceremony, but he kept his distance.

It was a month later that the tiny town of Storybrooke gathered around Main Street in anticipation of the grand opening of the Storybrooke Library. Mayor Mills was there of course, forever camera ready to cut the ribbon and take credit for the entire project that he had funded. He did not care really, he did not do it for the spotlight, he had done it for Belle.

Peeking through the blinds, he could see her, in a dress of blue standing on the stage with the mayor. Although she was smiling, he could see a gleam of sadness in her eyes, as she scanned the crowd. His breath hitched at the sight, and deep in his heart he knew she was searching for him.

He cast his eyes downward ashamed that he was too much of a coward to attend. Turning, he shuffled to the backroom, where balls of crumpled paper lay littered across the floor. Running a hand down his face, he tried in vain to wipe away his fatigue. He had stayed up much of the previous night, putting pen to paper, searching for the right words to let her go. He had given her his kindness, and protection, and now it was time to give her freedom.  

Sitting back down at his desk, he was lost as the faint scratch of his pen against the paper consumed him for the next hour or so. He growled in frustration, and he waded up his latest feeble attempt, tossing it to the floor, before slamming his head down to rest atop his arms in exhaustion. He hears the bell ring above his shop door, and the click of heels approaching. He snaps his head up, just in time to see Belle pulling back the curtain.

“Mr. Gold?” she calls for him, her voice laced in concern.

He ungracefully flounders in his chair before stumbling up to stand.

Her eyes gaze around the disheveled state of the room, before landing on him.

“I’m sorry,” is all he can think of saying.

“No, I should be the one who’s sorry, I didn’t mean to just burst in here, but it’s just you weren’t at the dedication today, and” she pauses a moment before her doleful eyes bore into his. “You weren’t there.”

His heart yearns to go to her, show her the briefest bit of comfort. It was clear by the look on her face, how hurt she was by his absence. This had gone too far. Despite his best wishes he had distorted her sweet soul into believing he was anything worthy of her time and affection. He had to end this now. He swallowed the bile in his throat, looking down, as he did not have the resolve to face her.

“Oh, was that today,” he waves his hand as though it was inconsequential, “Dearie, I find it wholly inappropriate that you…”

“Mr. Gold?” she gasps, cutting off his cruelty.

He looks up, to see her gaping in astonishment, at the pressed rose and handwritten note, displayed on a pedestal in the corner of the room.

Closing his eyes, he shook his head knowing he was exposed.

“You…,” he can hear her voice crack with emotion but still cannot force himself to look up. “You still have it.”

He shakes his head dumbly. “Yes, and now you must go.”

“Why?” she asks, her voice raw with emotion.

 He turns from her with a thousand excuses to her question at the tip of his tongue, but he settles for the truth.

“Because I am a monster.”

He felt the weight of her hand on his shoulder, coaxing him to face her. With great reluctance he turns as a ripple of warmth courses through him as her lips find his in a soft feathery kiss.

As she pulls back, he feels the tears rolling down his cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything Belle.”

Her long and delicate fingers trace the lines and angles of his face, as her radiant smile captivates him.

“I know.”

It was a foreign feeling to be looked upon with such an adoring gaze. He had fought pulling her into his world for so long, that he never considered she would pull him into hers.

He reaches up cupping the back of her neck with his hand as she willingly moves forward locking her lips to his.

There can only ever be…her.

Clutching the small velvet box he tiptoes across the cabin floor, kneeling at her bedside. He gingerly reaches his knuckles out to caress her cheek. She stirs as the blanket shifts down her naked form. He holds a breath of anticipation as her glistening blue eyes lazily flutter open, as she greets his presence with a warm smile.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he whispers, plucking a kiss from her pink lips.

He still cannot believe any of this is real. Ever since that night at his pawn shop 8 months ago, they have been inseparable. Although her father, along with most of the town, granted them no acceptance, they found a peaceful solace in each other’s arms.

Night after night, with her head nestled beneath his chin, her heartbeat drowned out all the inner turmoil that once plagued his sleep. His thoughts are now consumed only by her, and the future he craves, more than his next breath.

Hands shaking, he places the box on the mattress, as her startled eyes gaze upon it. He has practiced the words for weeks but in the moment, as he gazes into the blue eyes that have become his home, he cannot wait a second more to utter those four words.

“Will you marry me?”

His question was instantly answered as her yes echoed in his ears filling him with the warmth of a thousand suns. He had only a moment to slip the ring on her finger, before she was entangled in his arms. He feels her pulse drumming beneath her skin, her heartbeat against his ribs. His hands rake over her naked body with an eager hungriness.  

Her mouth is on his, as their bodies tumble backwards onto the bed. Entwined and locked together her moans are echoed by his own. Begs of harder and faster fill his ears, a need that he devotedly complies with.

Her fingers entangled in his hair, her new ring digging into the back of his head, the new sensation bringing him closer to the edge. With one last thrust he falls into a sensation of unrivalled euphoria as she reaches her own bliss.

Panting he moves to her side, his arms wrapped protectively around her as she snuggles into his chest. No words are spoken as she raises her hand gazing at the ring. His heart swells with emotion, and he cannot wait for her claim to be on his finger soon.

From this moment on, there can only ever be forever.

#Rumbelle secret santa #eirian houpe #rumbelle #rss

[notalwayslate]

Santa's back for one last check-in before posting day! 🎅

Your gift has only a little bit to go before it will be ready to wrap up and (belatedly) leave under your tree. Your fic will be arriving the evening of December 31st. I'm so sorry that I had to take the latest post date available, but my word count spiraled away from me and I very much needed the extra time!

How was your Christmas? Did you get any extra special presents? Have you posted your own RSS fic yet or are you still putting the finishing touches on it?

💖

That is perfectly fine, I can't wait to read it. I really need an escape at the moment. Yesterday, there was a shooting outside of my work, leaving two people dead. The police detained the entire office for three hours, as to protect the crime scene outside, so it was just so surreal. I have never been through anything like that in my life, and the day after Christmas.

Not to bring this entire exchange down, but when something like terrifying happens, it's just mind boggling. I'm about to post my own story now, and hope this weekend, I can just sort of zone out, read good fanficiton, and stay warm and safe at home.

[notalwayslate]

Santa’s back for another visit and I’ve brought some seasonal questions! 🎅🎄🎅

(1). How do you feel about Christmas music? Love it or hate it? What’s your favorite Christmas song? Is there one that you absolutely can’t stand?

(2). What’s your favorite festive drink? What about your favorite holiday meal?

(3). Are there any ornaments you have that are particularly special?

(4). What are some of your favorite holiday traditions?

I hope December has been treating you well? Is holiday prep eating you alive or are things quite laid-back? The end to RSS feels like it’s hurtling towards us at light speed, so I hope your own fic-writing is going to plan!

💖

Hey Santa! 1. I am a firm believer that holiday music shouldn’t start till after thanksgiving. There is a radio station here that starts playing it in October, which is just too soon. I like holiday music but I will listen to it, and usually by the week of Christmas I’m over it and am missing just my regular music. I think my favorite is probably it’s the most wonderful time by Andy Williams cause I have such distinct memories from my childhood of it, and it was my grandmothers favorite.

2. for festive drink I know it’s not eggnog, I tried it once and was not a fan. I do like some warm apple cider, and for cocktail an old fashion.

3. two ornaments stick out. One is for my beloved dog who passed in 2012. It has her picture on it and I always get teary eyed putting it up. The second is our first Christmas ornament my husband bought us many years ago.

4. my favorite holiday tradition is going to look at Christmas lights. Some houses in our subdivision really go all out.

it’s so crazy how much the time flies by.

[notalwayslate]

Another check-in from your Santa! 🎄

Your fic is still in its early stages, but I think it's cooking up quite nicely so far. A few questions for you to ruminate on!

(1). What's your favorite color? Your least favorite color?

(2). What are your favorite personality traits/characteristics of Rumple and Belle?

(3). What OUAT episode (Skin Deep excluded) is your favorite? Do you have any eps that you have a particular grudge against?

(also, if my last message got eaten, please let me know so I can re-ask the question from it!)

💖

My favorite color is Blue. My least favorite color is light brownish yellow. There is an entire story behind that answer that goes deep back into my childhood, but I won't bore you with those details.

2. My favorite personality traits of Rumple has to be his woobiness. Who doesn't love that hard complex little a%& who suddenly becomes nervous and tongue tied when Belle is near.

And as for Belle, I always loved how she was inquisitive and loves reading. That she is patient, and takes the time to learn him and study him.

3. Well with Skin Deep aside, I think I enjoyed the Crocodile. There was a lot of rumbelle in there, with angst but ended with them agreeing to go on a hamburger date.

I really didn't watch any of the episodes that had Gold and Regina in a romantic relationship when Belle was pregnant. None of that made any sense to me, so I pretty much tuned out for those.

[notalwayslate]

Santa's back with an important query! :)

Since you said that you've been missing Rumbelle, I thought why not go for some classic Skin Deep nostalgia? I've got an outline going for a prologue to the episode, going off of Robert Carlyle's headcanon that Rumple knew of Belle before making his deal for her. I just wanted to pop in to get your okay on some content.

a). Canon-level violence. A brief scene of physical violence inflicted on Rumple. Nothing too gratuitous and, seeing as the 'inflictors' are mortals and the 'inflictee' is the dark one, the threat is nonexistent.

b). A brief Gaston appearance, serving as a grumbling asshole for Belle to admonish.

Please let me know if these do not get your okay. Furthermore, do you have any hard "no's" when it comes to topics/content/characters that I should know about? (Not to imply that this fic will be entering dark, upsetting territory in the least. Just thought I'd better be safe than sorry!)

❤️

I'm totally good with those Santa. That sounds great. I loved me some Skin Deep. As for no's, not really, I'm pretty open and ready to read just about anything.

Sorry for the delay in my response. Work gets a little crazy this time of year, and when I get home, I'm zoned out. But things are settling now, so I really am excited for this.

[notalwayslate]

Season’s Greetings from your Rumbelle Secret Santa!! Or, perhaps, the greetings come from your Anyelle Secret Santa. It all depends on what you want to come down the chimney this year.

I’m so excited to begin work on your gift. I loved your prompt. It’s both evocative and very open-ended.

But before I can do anything, I have to ask the big question; what characters will we be playing with in this story?

If you want Rumbelle, which incarnation? Storybrooke? Enchanted Forest? Lacey and Gold?

If you want Anyelle, which flavors are your favorite? Do you like a classic combo? Do you like any rare-pairs? Or would an Anyem strike your fancy?

(Just about anything is on the table apart from Rushbelle. I’ve only seen about a half-season of SGU and I would completely fumble the ball on Rush’s characterization. Sincerest apologies if that is what your heart was set on!)

❤️

Hello there. I am really missing and feeling a Rumbelle story this year. I'm really open to either enchanted forest, or storybrooke, or just an entirely different AU.

I"m pretty much excited for anything this season, so just let your imagination take you wherever it wants to go, and I will be thrilled.

#here we go again! Santa time

[notalwayslate]

Everyone stop what you are doing, and read Joylee’s amazing Rumbelle Secret Santa gift for me!! 

I love secret dating, and I can roll around in all of the Christmas fluff for hours! 

For @notalwayslate for Rumbelle Secredt Santa 2022.

So sorry to be late, but hope you enjoy anyway

Summary: Belle’s secret boyfriend, Library Commissioner and town curmudgeon, Mr. Gold comes with a lot of baggage: Legal disputes with his ex; a tween son he’s trying to get visitation with: and it turns out a car full of actual baggage. Belle handles it all with panache and her superpower – research skills!

[notalwayslate]

Driven to Love

For:  of-princes-and-savages.tumblr.com

Prompt: Enemies to Lovers, Road Trip

Summary:  As a snowstorm grounds the last flight to Maine, Belle French finds herself stranded at the airport. When she discovers the town pariah, Mr. Gold has rented the last car the two come to an agreement to travel together. They embark on a journey of self discovery, secrets, and confessions.

Read on A03 :  https://archiveofourown.org/works/43865535

She was cursed. There was simply no other reasonable explanation for it.

Any sane person would have known flying two days before Christmas was a bad idea, but she had only finished her final exams a week prior and spent the last week packing up her life preparing to move back home to Storybrooke.

Her immense joy of graduating with a degree in library science, a full semester early, was currently dampened as her tiny scrunched up frame sat between an overweight man, and an older woman eating a tuna fish sandwich.

The back of her seat thumped for the umpteenth time courteous of the screaming child behind her. Craning her neck, she peaked over the seats in front of her. The first-class curtain hung open just enough for her eyes to lock on the empty first-class aisle seat.

“Jerk,” she thought to herself, still miffed at the denial to sit there. She knew she should be grateful that she was at least on this plane, as the early morning flight she was originally booked on had been canceled, and hers was the last name to be called for standby. But being the last person to board a sold-out flight, you only have one option where to sit, or so she had thought.

Hope had risen in her chest, as the bubbly red headed flight attendant, stopped her mid aisle, whispering about an open first-class seat, and to let her see what she could do. She waited with eager anticipation, watching the smiling flight attendant make her way to first class, but returning soon after with a frown.

“Sorry. The very rude passenger bought both seats and insists the second stay empty.”

Disappointed she had sat down accepting her fate. One hour into the flight, the pilot announced the plane was being diverted due to a massive snowstorm hitting Maine. Fifteen minutes later, the plane pulled into the tiny airport of Pottsville, Pennsylvania. She popped up quickly, her small stature allowing her to stand in the aisle without hitting her head. Curiously, she kept on eye on the empty first-class seat, wanting to see what type of person demands two seats for themselves. Her jaw dropped as a familiar suited figure emerged from the window seat. It was no other than Mr. Gold.

How could she have not seen him when she boarded? Thinking back, she figured he must have been one of the passengers reading the newspaper as she passed. “Could this day get any worse?” she muttered under her breath.

That answer came as she was corralled off the plane into an overcrowded line of irate passengers. As the bad news that all flights were grounded until further notice made its way down the line, she glanced around searching for Mr. Gold, who was nowhere to be found. She could only assume he was being catered to in some first-class lounge.

Pulling out her phone, her first thought was to text her father to let him know of the delay but the thought of his heartbreak that she may miss Christmas sparked her to take a different course. Praying for some luck, she went on a travel site, her heart skipping a beat, as she saw one car left for rent.

Hastily she punched in her credit card information and clicked the book it button. She let out a victorious “yes!” as the confirmation number popped up on her screen.

She was thankful she traveled with only a carry on, as she quickly left the chaotic nightmare behind her boarding the shuttle bus for the rental car company. The wind was brisk, and although it was snowing, she knew it was nothing compared to what Maine was being hit with.

As the shuttle pulled up, she spotted the one lone brown car in the lot.

“Looks like you got the last one,” the driver exclaimed stopping the shuttle in front of the office.

“I guess my luck is changing,” she smiled back exiting the shuttle making her way into the small well-lit office. The lone employee, a middle-aged balding man, stood behind the counter, counting a wad of cash, which he quickly stuck into his shirt pocket as she approached.

Pulling out her phone, she smiled giving the man her name and confirmation number, but as he made no move to type in her information, her stomach clenched with dread.

“I’m sorry ma’am all of our cars are in use.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, she insisted she had a reservation for the car, but it fell upon death ears. Looking down, she spotted the latest rental contract on the counter, with an all too familiar signature on it. It was the same signature that graced every rental receipt her father ever received.

Looking out the window, the headlights turned on the car that was supposed to be hers. In that moment something snapped within her. With a fierce determination she stormed out the door, slamming her hands down on the hood of the rental car.

“Are you crazy?” a heavy accented voice boomed, as the driver side door flew open.

“This is my car, Mr. Gold.” She barked back noting his startled look at the use of his name. Squinting her way, recognition dawned on his puzzled face.

“Ms... Ms. French?” he asked.

She knew she sounded like a raging lunatic, as she stood before him listing out all his atrocities for that day, from the first-class seat to his payoff of the rental car employee. To his credit, he just stood there listening to her long-winded tirade against him.

“Well, we are destined for the same place, Ms. French. You are more than welcome to join me in MY car if you so choose, if not then I suggest you get out of my way.” With her chest still heaving from her emotional outburst, she felt a small triumph for the first time that day with his offer.

“I will go with you,” she nodded, moving towards the car, as he popped open the trunk. Lifting her suitcase in, she was surprised to find him suddenly standing next to her.

“You drive,” he commanded passing behind towards the passenger’s side.

Taking a deep calming breath, she got into the driver’s seat, adjusting the seat and mirrors, as he slid into the back seat. So now she was to be his chauffeur? This man was insufferable. She was about to tell him what she thought of him, when a small grunt of pain escaped his mouth. Glancing back, she observed him extending his bad leg across the backseat. She had not considered what a day of traveling, in this cold weather must be doing to it.

“So…Ms. French” she heard a crinkling of paper. Looking back, she watched him pull a roadmap from his coat. “The clerk said that we need Interstate 84.”

She could not suppress her laughter at such an archaic site. She knew Mr. Gold was old fashioned in his manner of dress and airs, but she did not realize that it bled into his technological advancement. Grabbing the phone from her purse, she pulled up google maps, typing in her father’s address.

“I’ve got this Mr. Gold.” His brows drew in confusion, as the phone chirped out the first direction. Sitting back, he folded up the map.

She made it to the interstate with little affair. Looking down at the screen it noted they were 10 hours away from Storybrooke. 10 hours. 10 hours locked inside a confined space with the infamous Mr. Gold.

The first half hour they drove in complete silence, as she acclimated to driving in the snowy weather. It was only after she seemed to have found her steady rhythm on the wintry road that Mr. Gold informed her, they needed to first drive to Maine’s Bangor airport to return the rental, and switch to his car parked there.

It dawned on her that she needed to call her father and let him know that she was now driving to get back home to him. She felt uncomfortable having to make such a personal call with Mr. Gold so near, but she had no other choice. Swiping the GPS closed, she placed her phone on speaker as she kept her attention on the road. On the second ring her father picked up. She quickly ran down the events of the day, purposely leaving out the details of her driving companion, before promising him she would be home for Christmas. Although he expressed his concern about her driving in the weather, he was excited for her return.

“I can’t tell you what it means to me Bluebell to have you back here for good.”

Stealing a peek through the rearview mirror, she could see Mr. Gold’s eyebrows shoot up at the revelation. With the excuse of needing to focus on the road, she quickly ended the call.

“So, you’re moving back to Storybrooke?”

“I am.”

“So, what brings you back to our fair town?”

“You if you must know.”

“What?” he gasped his bewilderment evident in his tone.

Taking a breath, she kept her eyes forward on the road.

“Since you decided to raise the rent on my father’s shop and apartment, he can no longer afford both, so I’m moving back home, to help make ends meet.”

She waited for some snarky retort but was met with his silence. Letting out a small sigh, she could no longer stand the quiet, as she turned on the radio.

“Turn that damn thing off. It is an insult to my ears.”

Rolling her eyes, she clicked the radio off. Keeping one eye on the road she reached for her purse, pulling out her air buds placing them in her ears. She was debating which audiobook to listen to when his stern voice rung out.

“It is not safe to wear earphones while you are driving. Take those out at once.”

She pulled the buds from her ears. “You know I am not your child, nor your employer. You cannot just bark your orders at me.”

Stuffing the air buds back in her purse, silence filled the car once again leaving her to nothing but her own thoughts. She was trying to recall her mother’s green bean casserole recipe when Mr. Gold’s voice broke her train of thought.

“I didn’t raise your father’s rent.”

Perplexed by his statement it was her turn to respond with silence.

“I don’t know what he told you, but I didn’t raise his rent.”

His words slowly sunk into the depths of her stomach. Mr. Gold was many things, but she never knew him to be a liar, unlike her father. She wondered if his gambling addiction had gotten ahold of him again. Or worse yet, was the lie some elaborate hoax to get her to come back home simply because he was lonely? Either way she knew that he needed her, and as angry as she was at his deception, home was where she needed to be.

Not knowing how to respond she continued driving, wondering what Mr. Gold thought of her and her lying father.

The snow fell heavier as they continued traveling north.

“We…we can change positions at the next town if you like? I can take a shift driving.”

She was surprised at his gentle tone.

“That sounds good,” she smiled softly.

It felt good to stretch her legs as she made her way into the gas station. She let out a small chuckle still picturing the look of distaste on Mr. Gold’s face when she asked if he wanted anything to eat. Waiting in line to purchase her chips and drink, she looked out at him pumping gas. If anyone had told her that she would be spending Christmas Eve’s eve on a road trip with Mr. Gold, she would have thought they were crazy.

After purchasing the snacks, she let out a dauntless squeal as the snow pelted her tiny frame as she ran towards the car. Her instinct was to head for the passenger front door, but she shot into the back seat figuring he would be more comfortable with her from a distance.

He was a much more cautious driver than she, constantly checking his mirrors, and driving primarily in the right lane far below the posted speed limit. At this rate, it would take far longer to get back home. Letting out a bored sigh, she chomped down on a chip.

“So why were you in Pennsylvania Mr. Gold?” she asked before taking a small swig of water.

“Business,” he replied.

“What kind of business?” she pressed nosily, eating another chip.

“The kind that’s none of yours Dearie.”

Shrugging at the quick dismissal, she continued eating.

“How can you eat such trash?” he asked his judgment evident in his tone.

“Well, we all can’t dine on first class food now can we Mr. Gold?” she snarked back, purposefully taking a loud crunchy bite.

“So, what are you plans for Christmas Mr. Gold?”

She was genuinely curious why a man who had no family or friends that she knew of, was willing to bribe a rental car worker to get home for Christmas.

“I have business to attend to.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Business on Christmas? But isn’t your shop closed that day. What business could you possibly have on Christmas day?”

He shrugged. “Debts to collect.”

Her mouth fell open. Was he really going to go around on Christmas and collect money from those obviously less fortunate than he?

“Scrooge,” she muttered crossing her arms. “How did I ever have a crush on you?”

The moment the words fell from her mouth her heart stopped. Did she just say that aloud?

“What did you just say?” he asked his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Nothing, forget it,” she replied mortified.

“Crush,” he scoffed shaking his head with a bitter laugh. “Oh, please dearie.”

A prick of hurt nicked her heart at his arrogant response.

“Oh please…what?” she asked defensively.

He gave her a deadpan look through the rearview mirror. “Young girl with daddy issues. Rich older man. Let me guess you use to dream that I would swoop in and wipe out your father’s debts and shower you with jewelry and clothes, and everything your poor little daddy could not buy you. Does that sound about right?”

Her entire body quaked with a rage that erupted from the pit of her soul.

“How dare you!” she spat out in a half cry half scream. She tried to stop the tears as they fell from her eyes, wiping them with the sleeve of her sweater. “You can go to hell.”

He did not say a word, as she laid her forehead against the window looking out at the untouched fields of snow. Neither spoke a word for the next hour. The sun was setting, and glancing down at her phone, she saw they had another 4 hours to go. Her stomach grumbled loudly protesting that she had only eaten a single bag of chips that day.

“You need to eat,” he spoke softly.

Although she was still furious with him, she was also hungry, deciding to table the argument for now.

“Yes, I think we both need to,” she replied gently.

15 minutes later they came upon a small town that reminded her a lot like Storybrooke. The only place open in this weather was a Chinese restaurant. They exited the car in silence, and took a booth near the back, to get away from the chill of the front door. She was surprised when he sat across from her, half expecting him to sit by himself at a separate table. After both ordering he finally broke the awkward silence.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”

His apology caught her off guard for she had never known him to apologize to anyone. “I’m not some gold digger,” she muttered.

“No. No you are not,” he declared. “And what I said to you was appalling. But please understand that I meant it more of an insult towards myself, than you. I mean look at your Ms. French. When you said you had a crush on me, the only thing I thought was why would a young intelligent beautiful woman ever like someone like me? The only thing I really have to offer is money, and well…” She could see he was stumbling to find the words. “All I can do is ask for your forgiveness.”

There was a somber vulnerability in his eyes. She found herself feeling sorry for him that the only redeeming quality he saw in himself was his wealth.

“You’re forgiven Mr. Gold.”

It was freeing to let go of the anger that had festered for the last few hours. She felt lighter, more relaxed, and in turn so did he. She was speaking to him about taking the position of assistant librarian at the Storybrooke library when his phone rung.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a flip phone, and she no longer wondered how he had been so oblivious to a GPS app. He answered with a clipped, “This is Gold.”

The restaurant was empty, the snowy weather keeping the inhabitants of the small town locked away warm in their houses, which allowed her to clearly overhear the male voice on the other end of the line, and dogs barking? Gold turned towards the window his voice lowering

“Yes. I got held up, but I will be there Christmas day.” He paused. “No really, it’s fine. You do not need to come in, spend Christmas with Mary Margaret and the baby.”

Mary Margaret? She knew she recognized that voice. It was Mary’s husband David Nolan, manager of the animal shelter. She feigned interest at the dessert menu, while he finished the conversation.

Once done, he slid the phone back into his suit pocket, sitting back half abashed as she smiled knowingly at him.

“Who was that Mr. Gold?”

“Just a bit of business Ms. French,” he replied sternly, his tone clearly a wall to her inquisitiveness. Smiling she reached for her glass of tea, taking a small gulp, before gently putting it back down.

“So how long have you been helping David out at the animal shelter Mr. Gold?”

His eyes narrowed, but as they continued to linger on her a half smile crept on his face.

“It appears I have been found out.”

Sitting back, Mr. Gold went into detail about his adversarial business relationship with the town Mayor for her refusal to increase the animal shelter’s funding. “Less funding means less staff, and well animals still need to eat and be taken care of on holidays. And since the shelter does not have the money to pay someone, I volunteer.”

“You go in every holiday?” she asked incredulously.

“Aye. David’s got a family, and well…” he trailed off sorrowfully. “There are worse things then spending a Christmas with a room full of dogs.”

Reaching out she placed her hand on top of his. He was startled by the touch, but made no move to pull away

“You know you’re nothing like they say you are, and I’m glad.”

He gave her a lopsided smile.

“David is sworn to secrecy about this. How would that look for my reputation? The fearsome proprietor playing with puppies? So now you know, what am I going to do with you?” he asked his eyes boring into hers.

A heat swirled in her belly, as her thoughts immediately went dirty thinking of all the ways he could punish her for telling his secret. Squirming in her seat she took another sip of iced tea trying to cool her heated flesh.

“Well, I propose a deal Mr. Gold,” she countered raising her eyebrows.

Folding his fingers, he leaned forward. “I’m all ears Ms. French,” he purred his accent sending a jolt of electricity down her spine. She had never been the type of woman who flirted easily, but no other man had brought out such a carnal desire within her.

“Well…” her words were caught off, as the server approached.

“I hate to cut your dinner short, but I just got a call from my husband, and the county just implemented the snow control order.”

“What does that mean exactly?” Belle questioned.

“State roads are closed for now, until they can get the snow plows out to clear them. I would not plan to go anywhere till morning.”

Her heart dropped at the news. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and they still had a good four hours of driving left. The waitress informed them that there were vacancies at the Village Inn next door.

Resigned to the will of the weather, they both agreed to stay there for the night, and leave early the next morning.

The two of them made their way over to the motel, having retrieved their luggage from the car. The warm lobby was a welcoming retreat from the frigid air.

The clerk came out of the backroom his eyes roaming over her body.

“Can I help you love?” he purred completely ignoring Mr. Gold standing next to her.

“We need two rooms,” Mr. Gold barked, commanding his attention.

“Two rooms?” the clerk repeated, his eyes giving her a once over yet again. Taking a protective step forward Mr. Gold blocked the clerk’s view, as he filled out the paperwork.

“Here we are,” the clerk slid the first key to Mr. Gold. “115 for you sir, and..” his hand reached around Mr. Gold to give her the second key. “117 for you little lady.”

As she took the key from him, he gave her a small wink, her stomach curling in disgust at the gesture. The wind howled as they quickly made their way outside, heading down to their rooms.

Stopping for a moment outside the door, Mr. Gold looked at her.

“We can leave first thing in the morning.” He pulled the collar up on his coat trying to block the cold. “Say 7:30? They should have the roads plowed by then.” Giving a quick nod she bid him good night as she entered her room. Her body was frozen, but it was nothing a hot shower could not fix.

She had not realized just how tired she was, until she was lying in bed an hour later, struggling to keep her eyes open as she read her book. It was weird to think that Mr. Gold was just on the other side of the wall. She wondered what he slept in, silk pajamas, boxers, nothing at all. Her cheeks blushed at the thought. She hoped his leg was doing alright. She could not imagine what the cold weather was doing to it.

With a final text to her father letting him know that she was again delayed and would be arriving tomorrow afternoon, she plugged her phone into the charger, and closed her eyes.

The harsh knock on the door startled her awake. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was 10:37. “Mr. Gold,” she whispered to herself, darting out of the bed. Was something wrong? With little thought she undid the chain on the door flinging it open. Her stomach dropped as the front desk clerk stood before her, a seedy smile on his lips.

"Hello there beautiful. I was wondering if I could interest you in a nightcap?" He lifted a bottle of whiskey, with two plastic cups. Her primal instinct was to slam the door in his face, but she went with a more tempered “no thank you."

She went to the close the door, but his foot blocked it.

"Come now love, it’s cold out here. Just one drink to warm us up."

Suddenly his body jerked back, as the door slammed closed with his foot no longer there to block it. She stood there stunned, her mind trying to process what just occurred, when she heard scuffling outside the door. Quickly moving to the window, she pulled the curtain back in time to see the clerk pinned against her door by no other than Mr. Gold. Scurrying back, she flung open the door, as both men tumbled forward to the ground.

“Mr. Gold,” she cried out, bending over trying to pull him off the other man. With snarled lips he looked her way. “Please Mr. Gold, I’m okay, let him go,” she pleaded more concerned for his safety then the clerk. He looked back down at the man, then at her, his resolve softening. He released his hold on the man’s neck, who wasted no time scrambling to his feet.

“Sorry s.s.s.sir,” the clerk sputtered out beelining for the door. “I was...j…j. Just seeing if your daughter needed anything. Have a good night, “and with that he was gone. Hastily she locked the door before returning her attention to Mr. Gold on the floor.

His chest was heaving as his eyes searched her own. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Are you?” She knelt beside him, worryingly looking him over. She did not see any apparent injuries.

“I could not help but overhear, and well…when he would not leave. I just…. reacted.” He looked down suddenly seeming embarrassed by his actions.

“I’m glad you did,” she spoke softly, lifting his chin with her finger, hoping her eyes could convey how grateful she was. “How is your leg?”

“Fine,” he replied staggering to stand without assistance. “I should get back to my room.” Once righted, he hobbled toward the door, before stopping.

“I think I may have a problem here. I was so quick to react, that I may have just locked myself out of my room.”

With both insisting the other not interact with the clerk again, he had reluctantly agreed to her proposed solution of staying the night in her room. Although she should have felt uncomfortable having him sleep in the other double bed, she didn’t. With the lights off, they laid in silence.

“Ms. French?”

She smiled at the formality.

“You know you can call me Belle.”

After a beat he spoke again.

“Belle?”

“Yes,” she replied turning on her side seeing the outline of his body looking back at her.

“Did you really have a crush on me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” he asked incredulously.

In the cover of darkness, it was easy to bare her soul.

“I never really fit in with the rest of the high school crowd. While everyone was at a football game, or partying I preferred the library. I could easily block out the rest of the world, lost in the pages of some adventure. Well, that is…” she paused a moment gathering the last bit of courage, “until you showed up.”

“Me?”

“You would come in researching some new antique you had acquired. It was fascinating to watch. You were always so thorough, so focused on whatever reference books or papers you had requested. And then I would see you sitting alone at Granny’s the next day, no one daring to sit within ten feet of you. I so badly wanted to sit down next to you and discover what mysteries your research had uncovered.”

She let out a small chuckle. “And you being the most handsome man I had ever seen certainly didn’t help matters in the crush department.”

“Miss French?”

“Belle,” she chided.

“Belle,” he breathed, her name on his lips bringing a shiver to her body. “I’m truly sorry for what I said to you today.”

“I know you are. And you already apologized for it, so there’s nothing more to discuss.”

She could hear his breathing getting heavier. “You asked me what business I had in Pennsylvania.”

She nodded unsure if he could it in the darkness.

“It was… family business. I went to see my son.”

Surprised by the revelation, she sat up. Leaning against the headboard she brought her legs up to her chest, hugging them as Mr. Gold spoke of a history, she was sure only a few knew. It was captivating to get a glimpse underneath the mask of the town monster.

He spoke of an old flame, Milah, who had become pregnant when they were only nineteen. Although terrified, he was ready to marry her, until she informed him the child, she was carrying was not his.

“I hadn’t heard from her in 15 years, when one day she showed up on my doorstep proclaiming that the child was in fact mine.” His voice broke. “You must understand, I had just received a huge settlement from a drunk driving incident that permanently damaged my leg. I thought she was lying, that her and her husband Killian were just trying to cash in on my misery. But when the paternity test did in fact prove that I was his father all she wanted from me was the money. I wanted to get to know him, know my son, but she filled his head with such lies, that he wanted nothing to do with me.”

Her heart broke for him.

“I tried to make it up to him, the only way I knew how. I sent gifts, money, paid for his schooling, but he still rejected any type of relationship with me.”

He let out a heartbreaking sigh. “I missed so much of his life. But a few years ago, he met a young woman, Emma, and she encouraged him to try and mend his relationship with me. It is still hard for him, but little by little he lets me in. This was the first time he allowed me to come to his home to visit. I was hoping to spend Christmas there, but he wasn’t ready for that yet.”

As a sob erupted from his throat, and she immediately went to him, wrapping her arms around his shaking frame.

“I am such a terrible father.”

“No,” she cooed whispering in his ear, as he sobbed in her arms. Bringing her hand up, she cupped his cheek. “You are not a terrible father. What Milah did to you, to both of you, was wrong. But it will get better with time.”

“I’m a difficult man to love,” he mumbled bitterly.

For a moment she was tempted to kiss his lips, to pour all the tenderness and love she could into his broken soul, but she knew she needed to move slowly, cautiously if she had any chance to convince him of his worth. Her lips planted a feathery soft kiss on his cheek. Pulling away, his brown puppy dog eyes looked upon her with a fondness that melted her heart. “I think you could be an easy man to love, Mr. Gold.”

“Rumford. Please call me Rumford.”

A sensual tension lingered in the air as they stared at each other. He was vulnerable, his eyes raw with the burdens of his past and even though she wanted him she moved back to her own bed. She was worried that after such an emotional exchange sleep would not come easy for either of them, but once again Rumford had surprised her by falling asleep well before she.

She awoke the next morning to nearby voices. Feeling a twinge of cold, she opened her eyes, to find Rumford standing in the open doorway talking to someone out of view. It did not take long for her to decipher it was the housekeeper, who agreed to let him back into his room. Thirty minutes later, she met him by the car, as he scraped the nightly snowfall from the windshield, before setting out on their way.

The new day brought a new beginning for the two of them, as she sat in the front seat next to him.

He informed her that he spoke to the motel manager that morning, and their little visitor from last night would be spending his Christmas in the unemployment line. For a moment she felt a pang of guilt for a man to lose his job right before the holiday, but then reminded herself that every woman had the right to feel safe when staying at a motel. It was apparent the road crews worked all night, as the roads were cleared for their journey.

They stopped at a Starbucks drive-thru, he getting a black coffee, and her a honey citrus mint tea. While the tea warmed her body, his genuine laughter warmed her heart, as she implored him to stop at the Dunkin donuts so he could try a munchkin.

“Not so bad is it Rumford?” she teased popping another donut hole in her mouth.

“I concede,” he smiled his hand reaching in the bag for another. “They are quite delicious.”

With Christmas carols playing on the radio, she sang along to I will be home for Christmas while he quietly hummed the tune. It was a perfect Christmas Eve car ride. A few hours later, they followed the rental return signs as they neared Bangor Maine airport. One quick shuttle car later, she was standing in front of Rumford’s 1990 Cadillac Brougham.

Getting in she ran her fingers along the velour door. The atmosphere felt more elegant than the rental. This was his car. His world, that many saw at a distance but few ever entered. Looking over her shoulder, she noted the large back seat, her cheeks blushing at the impure thought that intruded her mind.

She watched as he climbed in, turning to her with a soft smile. How long had it been since anyone sat next to him in his own car?

Driving along she felt the burning desire to hold his hand. Closing her eyes, it was easy to imagine them driving home from a date, her head on his shoulder, his hand on her leg. Her phone rung pulling her from the beautiful daydream. Seeing it was her father, she picked up excitedly informing him she was only 40 minutes from town.

“I’ve been thinking Bluebelle that maybe you should return the car at the airport, and I can pick you up there. There is no need to pay for extra days when it will just sit outside the shop.””

There was no point avoiding this discussion any longer, she thought to herself, informing him that the rental car had already been returned and she was traveling back to town with Mr. Gold. Holding the phone away from her ear, her father’s boisterous cursed laced tirade filled the air. Glancing over at Rumford’s bleak face she tried giving him a reassuring smile, but he kept his attention on the road.

Affirming for the third time that she was truly alright, her father eventually agreed to end the call.

“Well, that was interesting,” she said jokingly trying to lighten the suddenly somber mood. The reality of…their reality started seeping in as they moved closer to Storybrooke.

Judging by her father’s reaction, she knew that it would not be easy for them to continue the friendship they had forged over the last few days. Would he go back to the rigid town monster, and she the introvert watching him from afar?

Pulling up to her father’s apartment, the car came to a stop. She made no move to get out, instead turning to take his hand.

“Rumford I…”

“Hold that thought,” he interrupted as her father came bustling out of the door heading straight for her. She had never seen her father move so quickly as he flung open her car door, dragging her from the seat.

“Hello, my girl!” he boasted engulfing her in tight a bear hug. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“Of course, I’m safe, Papa.”

Wrapping his arm around her protectively, they rounded the car, her father, pounding the trunk with his fist. Mr. Gold clearly received the message as the trunk clicked ajar and her father took out her small suitcase.

“Now come inside girl, I have a ham cooking,” he said ushering her towards the door. Everything was happening so quickly, and as she tried to turn her attention back to Rumford, her father stepped in front of her.

“Wait Papa, I need to talk to him,” she pleaded, as her father turned staring daggers at the car.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold, for the ride. I assume your bill for transporting my daughter will be added to next month’s rent.”

“Papa,” Belle yelped horrified at her father’s rude behavior. Her heart sunk as Mr. Gold gave a stern nod before driving off.

The moment he drove off she felt a pang of disappointment in the pit of her stomach. She tried to enjoy Christmas Eve with her father, but her thoughts kept straying to Rumford. Laying in her childhood bed that night she contemplated what her life would be like now that she was back home. It was odd to have taken such a huge leap forward in life by graduating, only to stumble back into her old life. If she was to be truly happy here in Storybrooke, she knew what she needed to do.

Christmas morning arrived, along with the smells of fresh eggs and bacon. After a hearty breakfast, her father surprised her with a pair of earrings, calling them a graduation/Christmas present. After watching A Muppet Christmas Carol, she let her father know she was heading out to visit friends.

Bundling up, she walked the few blocks to the Storbrooke animal shelter. Her heart raced as her eyes fell upon the Cadillac parked out front. An orchestra of barking rung out as she knocked on the front glass door. A few moments later, she saw Rumford hobble into the hallway, his pace quickening as he laid his eyes upon her.

“Belle?” he questioned, opening the door, and ushering her into the lobby, locking the door behind them. “Is everything alright? Are you alright?”

“Yes.” she paused for a moment, “and no.” His brows drew in concern. “I’m sorry for how we parted yesterday…my father acted rudely.”

“I do not blame him. No one wants their child around a monster.”

“You’re not a monster,” she whispered taking a step towards him.

She would not let him retreat back into a shell of self-loathing. She needed to be brave for the both of them.

“Merry Christmas Rum,” she whispered, her lips finding his.

The kiss was gentle at first, but as he opened his mouth for her, the heat rose in her cheeks as her tongue touched his. Far too soon the kiss ended as he slowly pulled his lips away. Leaning down, he placed his forehead on hers.

“A Merry Christmas indeed, Belle.” X

With a bored yawn, Graham shut off the old black and white television. Checking his watch, it was half past midnight, plenty of time for the New Year’s festivities to be coming to an end. Wrapping his scarf around his neck, he headed out the door for his holiday patrol. New Year’s Eve was usually a quiet affair in Storybrooke, as he looked up and down the snowy streets. The small upper crust of society attended the mayor’s party at her mansion miles away while the not so rich found their holiday spirit at the Rabbit Hole.

With snow crushing under his boots he headed towards the town center. It was peaceful as he passed by the closed businesses. Nothing seemed amiss, until he saw Mr. Gold’s Cadillac parked down the alley rocking side to side in a slow steady rhythm.

Letting out a sigh, he reached for his flashlight. He knew alcohol caused people to do crazy things, but for two people to sneak into Mr. Gold’s car for a drunken New Year’s tryst, well that was just downright dangerous.

With a loud cough, he walked up to the car, banging his flashlight on the back window.

“Alright kids the fun is over for tonight.”

As the two tangled half clothed bodies stilled, Graham froze as a disheveled looking Mr. Gold rose from the backseat, followed by a woman, who looked to be the florist’s daughter, Ms. French.

“I’m s.s…sorry Mr. Gold, I had no idea it was you,” he stuttered stumbling back away from the car. Shaking his head in disbelief, he heard the two lovers giggle as he hightailed it back to the main road.

‘This is going to be a strange year,” he thought to himself, as he heard the car rocking again behind him.

#Rumbelle Secret Santa #of-princes-and-savages #Rumbelle fic #rumbelle

[notalwayslate]

Santa is slow.  It didn’t dawn on me until yesterday that your prompt was from Running Up that Hill.  And I watch Stranger Things!  Were you thinking of something related to the song?  I can easily work that in if that was the case.

Ha! No worries Santa, it is from Running Up That Hill. I was in the car listening to it on the radio, and I always love that part in the song and thought, hey that would be a good prompt. If you want to work it in, and it fits, go for it!

My husband actually got me into watching Stranger Things, and I really like it. My big secret is I am more of a Nancy/Steve fan than Nancy/Jonathan, but that's just between us. ;) I can't believe it's almost time to post soon. I'm lucky that I now have a few days off of work, so I'm going to spend the next few days focused on my gift. Hope you are doing well!

[notalwayslate]

Santa here: Sorry your Thanksgiving was rough. We too have been having a fraught end of the year, which since I detailed in my Tumblr I will stay mum about for fear of outing myself. I am delighted to leave Zelena on the sidelines. I detest the character. How do you feel about fluff? With the way Real Life ™ has been going lately, I feel like fluff, Holiday or not is in order. AUs? Nealfire either as a child or adult snarking on the side?

Give me all the fluff !!! I do love Nealfire, I prefer him as a child, but totally find with him as an adult as well. AU I'm totally open to, I'm pretty much open to anything! I hope it is going well for you. For some reason I find myself struggling to write lately, but I'm pretty sure I will knock out my own gift in time.

[notalwayslate]

Greetings! It is your Rumbelle Secret Santa dropping by for a quick intro and queries. I’m so excited for another year of RSS. Are you more in the mood for some flavor of Rumbelle, Rushbelle or something else? I haven’t started brainstorming so am completely open to ideas. Any ‘Do Not Wants’ or squicks? Specific characters to include or leave out?

Hello there Santa! Sorry for the delay, but man I had one heck of a Thanksgiving traveling horror story, which included a 7 hour delay, and then being split from my husband on the plane, in which we both got placed in middle seats, where I was sitting next to someone coughing and sneezing the entire time.

But enough about that. This year, I am kind of feeling Rumbelle, but of course I'm always open for Rushbelle. I am not really a Lacey fan, and much prefer Belle. I am not a Zelena fan, so if she's in the story, I prefer her as a villain. Talk with you soon.

[notalwayslate]

Golden Cuffs one shot?

For the title game how about Beauty and the Beasts. (yep beasts being plural)

I mean... this has gotta be a Belle-with-multiple-Rumples PWP.

I don't quite know how to write Rumple interacting with himself. A lot of fics in this genre stress the animosity that Gold would feel for Imp Rumple or vice versa. I get that, I get the "I wouldn't fuck myself because my self-loathing is that strong," but I don't really find it that interesting. I would be much more interested in a Rumple that's kind of a hive mind with himself. In that case I see it as less of a time travel/dimension hopping adventure and more of a "duplication potion" situation.

(Honestly, this could be a Golden Cuffs story. It was really convenient to have a story where Rumple can walk up to Belle and say "This is the weird sex thing I want to do today" and Belle is just like, "That sounds fun!" Otherwise it can feel a little forced to go from "Oh hey, I cloned myself" to "I think all twelve of us should bang each other.")

Yeah, I like Rumple being essentially one person with many bodies, and every single one of them is solely focused on giving Belle everything she could ever want. And all the Rumples would feel what the others feel. It'd be nice to have a Rumple who can talk to her while three or four of his mouths are otherwise engaged, describe to her what's going on in areas she can't see.

Pronouns would be a bitch though.

[notalwayslate]

Thank you so much!!!!!! God I miss some good Rushbelle smut, and boy did you deliver!!!! I cannot wait to read this again when I get home tonight, and gush over it again over on A03.

(In)discreet Math

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV), Stargate Universe

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br />Relationships: Belle (Once Upon a Time)/Nicholas Rush

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Nicholas Rush, OC

Additional Tags: Teacher-Student Relationship

Summary: Rush is drinking away his frustration at not being able to find the key to the Ninth Chevron. Too drunk to drive home, Belle, a student in his math class, insists on driving him home. He invites her in for a nightcap, where both of them act upon secret desires they have been suppressing for too long.

Merry Christmas @notalwayslate​, it is I, your Secret Santa, delivering your gift. I hope that you enjoy it!

Read on AO3

(In)discreet Math

Rush groaned, tossed back another tumbler of bad whiskey, tore out another page from his notebook, and crumpled the paper into a small ball that he slipped into his jacket pocket. Then he began to write out the entire equation again. He really shouldn’t be drunk off his ass, much less still drinking. He was both, and the cheery croon of the holiday music grated on his last nerve.

By rights, as a faculty member, he shouldn’t be propping up the Students’ Union bar; shouldn’t be in the Students’ Union at all, but it was closer than his car and any other form of conveyance that could take him to a different place that would no doubt have a higher quality of liquor that would doubtless be able to distract him from his current dilemmas better than the shite he was presently throwing down.

He scribbled another few symbols into his notebook, crossed them out and then turned the page and started over. Figuring out the truth of the ninth chevron was, quite literally, going to be the death of him - or of his career at least, which considering it was all he had left, was pretty much the same thing.

He looked up then, and across the room caught sight of the object of his distraction. He really shouldn’t be thinking about that particular student and the way her too blue eyes made it seem as though she was hanging on his every word in any lecture he’d ever given, nor the way that her creamy thighs were barely covered by the tiny little skirt she was ‘wearing’ - and he used the term under advisement.

He really shouldn’t be watching said student.

Keep reading

#thank you so much! #I love it with my whole heart!

[notalwayslate]

A Bad Idea

When Belle French is forced to go back home to Storybrooke to attend her ex boyfriend's Christmas party, she readily accepts Robert Gold's offer to travel back with her to pretend to be her boyfriend for the event. There is just one small problem in their ruse...he's a priest.

Prompt: Fake dating, Christmas Party

For: @roxymorondraws​ for Rumbelle Secret Santa

Okay, it was our shared love of Rumbelle and Midnight Mass that gave me the inspiration for your gift. I hope you like it.

AO3 Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/36004525

A Bad Idea

This was a bad idea, Belle thought for the hundredth time that night, looking around the party.

Where was he? Glancing at her watch a nervous anticipation fluttered in her stomach. He wasn’t coming, she thought for a moment before a pang of guilt struck her for doubting him. Of course, he would come, he was the one person she could count on.

 As she brought her hands down to straighten her skirt, her stomach dropped as a familiar bellowing laugh grated in her ears, and her nostrils filled with the musk of the overpowering cologne that she spent many of days trying to wash from her clothes.

“Well, well, well Bluebelle, I’m surprised you’re here.” Her ex-Gaston circled in front of her a prickly gleam in his eyes as she let out an exasperated sigh. “I had heard rumblings that you were back from University for the holidays, but I just assumed you would be home alone tonight with your nose stuck in one of those nonsensical books.” This

“Yes, well here I am,” she replied overly sweet, trying her best to masquerade her anger at his feigned surprise at her presence. His family had practically extorted her father to ensure she came tonight. She could still hear the desperation and panic in her poor father’s voice when he called informing her that the LeBeau family was threatening to cancel their flower order for their big annual Christmas party, which accounted for a third of the flower shop’s annual revenue.

“He said his son was still so heartbroken over you, Belle,” she recalled him pleading with her. “And well it might have been suggested that if you came home to Storybrooke, you know, went to their party, he might feel more comfortable in honoring our supply contract.”

And so here she stood, face to face with her lying cheating toxic ex-boyfriend for her father’s sake.

“So, you’re here alone, I see,” he smirked.

“I’m waiting for someone,” she replied, glancing at the door willing for him to suddenly appear.

“Sure, you are,” he scoffed, in an unconvincing tone. She watched in horror as he placed two fingers in his mouth, loudly whistling for a leggy blonde, who stumbled as she approached.

“Belle I would like for you to meet, Jessica.”

“Jillian,” the woman snapped.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Gaston said locking a strong arm around her waist.

And here it was. The real reason he so desperately wanted her to be here. He wanted to hurt her, corner her while she was alone and show her how easily replaceable, she was to him.

Mustering all of her will power, Belle smiled, reaching her hand out. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking he had upset her. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jillian.”

She watched as the girl lifted her hand to shake but Gaston forcefully pushed her arm back down.

“Be a doll pussycat and get your big strong man a drink.”

With a curt nod at the order his date wandered off.  Belle took the chance to turn and leave as well, but Gaston took a firm grasp of her elbow. “Not so fast, Bluebelle.”

She shook her arm, but his grip tightened as he leaned in. “You will be pleased to know, I’m willing to discuss taking you back.”

“Take me back? I wouldn’t be with you if you were the last man on earth!” she scoffed, struggling once again to break free of his grasp. Just then a firm hand landed on Gaston’s right shoulder. He turned in surprise, freeing her elbow.

A wave of relief washed over her as Robert Gold, her date for the evening, stood before them.

“I’m sorry I’m late, sweetheart. Traffic was heavier than expected.” Although he was clearly speaking to her, he kept his brown eyes glued on Gaston.

‘Showtime,’ she thought taking a small deep breath, as she maneuvered past Gaston, looping her arm around Robert’s.

“It’s okay darling,” she leaned in kissing his cheek.

Gaston’s startled eyes darted between the two, his mouth forming a hard thin line.

“Who the hell is this guy?” his thick beefy finger pointed accusingly at the intruder.

“Oh, where are my manners,” Belle bashed playfully. “Gaston, this is Robert…my boyfriend.”

Gaston’s silence lasted only a moment before he threw the first insult.

“You can’t be serious, Belle. This guy is old enough to be your father.”

She winced at the word, but quickly recovered. She shot a glance over at Robert, who stood stoic his chin up with a confidence that she rarely saw but it suited him.

As Gaston opened his mouth to surely deliver another jab, his date Jillian came to his side with two glasses of champagne.

“Here you are,” she said chipperly handing one of the glasses over to him. He snatched it from her hand, gulping down the contents, then quickly taking the other and downing that too.

“Let’s get out of here, Jana,” he sneered snatching her hand.

“It’s Jillian,” Belle called out cheerfully, as he dragged his date away.

Letting out an audible sigh of relief that the encounter was over, she turned with a ready apology for Gaston’s crude insults, but all thought of it ceased on her tongue as she took in how devastatingly handsome Robert looked in his suit.

He looked down at himself his brows furrowed, obviously worried as to what drew her stare.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head, trying to keep her growing thirst for him at bay. “I didn’t mean to stare, it’s just I’ve never seen you without your clothes on…I mean…” she stumbled a small blush appearing on her cheeks. “I mean I’ve only seen you in…you know.” she trailed off biting her lip to stop further rambling.

Self-consciously he looked at her. “Do I pass muster?”

Wordlessly she shook her head yes.

“You’re the most handsome man here,” she said truthfully, as he gave her a shy smile. Her heart raced with growing affection as she gazed upon the man who had readily agreed to pretend to be her boyfriend tonight. The man she had developed feelings for. The man who was everything she could ever want and more. The man who was a priest.

This was a bad idea she told herself for the hundredth and one time that night.

Although she wasn’t surprised, she was impressed with how well Robert mingled amongst the party guests that evening. His soulful eyes, and gentle smile could put any stranger at ease, and she was proud to be on his on his arm that night.

The thought occurred to her that they should have planned some elaborate story of how they met and other details of this faux relationship, but in all truth, she had been scared that he might back out due to the dishonesty of it all and so she never pushed to discuss it with him the days leading up to the party.  She soon learned that there was no need, as Father Robert had a vague way of spinning their truth, so that no one was the wiser.

After a few more rounds of small talk with the upper crust of Storybrooke, she surmised that they may need a break from the endless party chatter. She gestured towards the balcony doors, and he nodded with a look of relief.

The air was cool, but a large heater stood to the right, to keep the chill down for guests that may step out for a nightly smoke. Ever considerate, Robert took off his suit jacket, placing it around her shoulders. Turning her head, she closed her eyes for a moment inhaling the scent of him. When she looked up to thank him, she noticed a lock of hair had fallen over his eyes. Lifting her hand, she pushed it back, tucking it behind his left ear, drawing a ragged breath from his lips.

Yes, this was a bad idea.

 X

She looked angelic as the Christmas lights strung around the balcony, illuminated her sweet smiling face. He had been nervous on the drive here, not of a fear of their ruse being exposed, but a fear that he might disappoint her. He had spent an embarrassing amount of time, pressing his shirt and suit, painstakingly going over ever crease with an exact precision. He wanted to look good for her. It would have been the first time she saw him out of the cloth, and he wanted to be someone, look like someone who could be worthy of her.

He could not fathom how deeply his life would change when he walked into that bookstore a little over a year ago. He knew Mr. Summers, the owner, had always spoke about hiring a part time worker to work the weekends, but he had heard the man’s desire for over two years now, and every Friday night, there Mr. Summer’s sat behind the counter doing his crossword puzzles. Robert was convinced that Summers only kept the store open those nights for him, as he was regularly the only customer that frequented at that time, and who could turn away a lonely priest.

With his small and ever dwindling congregation, Father Robert only needed to hold one mass on Sunday mornings. The same handful of parishioners, mostly over the age of seventy, came to his 10am service. The rest of his week was often spent in isolation, enjoying a good book, with an occasional invitation to dinner here or there. His Aunties use to read bedtime stories to him when he was a small lad, and his love for books grew from there.

And so, it came as quite the surprise that faithful Friday night, when Robert walked into the store, ready to greet Mr. Summers, and a bright-eyed Auburn hair girl stood before him. From the moment he met her, he felt a spark of life within him, that had long burned out.

It had not taken long before the two of them became friends. He found himself frequenting the store every Friday and Saturday, coming an hour or two before closing, when the store was empty. She always greeted him with a warm smile, as the two would sit and talk about a variety of topics, ranging from books to their life stories.

As months passed, they both opened up more. She often talked about her studies at the nearby university and how she hoped to one day become a librarian. She spoke of her mother’s passing when she was only ten years old, and how she missed her. He in turn had opened up about how as a teenager he had impregnated his first girlfriend, Milah, and how she had left both he and their son Neal, when he was only three months old.

It had felt good to talk about his son with someone, as he had kept that part of himself closed off for so long. He told her of his son’s tragic passing at the age of fifteen, and how he had turned to drinking to help numb his pain. She would listen intently as he explained joining the church and finding the priesthood at 37. How his faith guided him to become a Father again, just in a different sense of the word.

He cherished their weekends together, and nearly leapt for joy when she had revealed that she had finally gotten the courage to dump her ever unfaithful boyfriend. Parishioners had commented to him, how much happier he seemed, more energized, after church services. His weekends with Belle had given him a new purpose in life. He felt younger, happier…he felt more like his old self. His best self.

And so when he had come into the store last week to find her with tears in her eyes, he listened as she explained her father’s predicament, and how she was going to have to go back to Storybrooke, to this Christmas party, and worst of all back to him…Gaston.

It was the jealousy that burned deep inside of him, or maybe it was the hurt that he felt to see such distress in her eyes, but he readily offered to go as her date, to pretend to be her boyfriend, so that she would not have to face her ex alone. Although he had offered, he was surprised at how readily she had agreed to the idea. It excited him to think that maybe…just maybe she wanted this pretend date, as much as he did.

As so here he stood before her, the act of her touching his hair so intimate that it almost brought a tear to his eye. She was his miorbhail, his miracle. His eyes locked on her painted red lips, and his heart stopped as she slowly moved towards him. She was mere centimeters away when the balcony doors swung open, and a tall middle-aged woman came barreling out, onto the balcony.

“I swear if I hear jingle bells one more bloody damn time,” she uttered, rummaging through her small clutch to pull out a cigarette.

“We should head back inside?” she suggested, quickly moving towards the door.

 X

She was going to hell, she told herself as they walked back into the ballroom. Did she seriously just try to kiss a priest? She needed to get her emotions back in check before she did something stupid. She turned around to suggest that they should leave, when an overweight man, who had way too much Christmas spirit for the evening, stopped before them.

“Mistletoe Fairy,” he chimed, dangling the little green plant above them. She looked at Robert who stared back at her with a wide-eyed gaze. Before she knew it, his arm wrapped around her, pulling her lips against his.

Her initial shock melted, as she opened her mouth inviting him in. Their tongues brushed as desire sprung in her belly. Brining her hand up, she grasped a fistful of his hair, fueling the passion between them. It felt so good, so right, but then, his lips were gone. She opened her eyes at the loss, just in time to see Gaston’s fist colliding with Robert’s jaw.

“You son of a bitch! That’s my girl,” she heard Gaston scream as he loomed over Robert splayed out on the floor. She was down on her knees in a second, reaching for Robert’s hand that was cradling his own jaw. Two men grabbed Gaston’s arms, ushing him away, as he put up a meek drunken struggle.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” she cried out, as a couple of party guests, helped Robert back up to his feet. She could hear Gaston screaming in the distance, as they walked Robert out into the hallway placing him down on a small bench near the front door. She recognized one of the men as Dr. Whale, who knelt to examine Robert.

“It doesn’t appear to be broken. Luckily, Mr. LeBeau wasn’t too steady on his feet when he hit you. But you do need to put some ice on it. Take some aspirin.” He stood up, looking at her. “Keep an eye on him tonight. If it gets worse give me a call tomorrow.”

Belle nodded at the doctor’s orders. She left for a moment, to get her coat. When she had returned, the same woman who was on the balcony was standing next to Robert, handing him her business card.

“That’s Mal Goodall. Call me anytime. You have one hell of a case, and I can get you ever dime you deserve.”

Taking Robert by the arm, she guided them out of the party. Digging in his suit pocket, she took out the keys, insisting she drive. She drove them to Granny’s Inn. She had booked him a room after he had agreed to this ruse. And with the circumstances as they were now, she was grateful that she had since he was in no condition to drive back tonight.

He was silent the entire time, as she checked him in, and took the room key from Granny. She could only imagine how angry he must be at her, for getting him into this mess.

Silently they walked into the room, as she turned on the lights. She immediately went into the bathroom, wetting a cold washcloth to clean him up. When she returned, his back was towards her, as he stared silently at the wall. The silence was deafening, and she opened her mouth to apologize, when his voice cried out.

“I want to leave!” 

 She closed her eyes her heart breaking at his desperate plea. Of course, he wanted to leave. Her selfishness had gotten him into this mess. How could she had been so stupid. She knew this had been a bad idea from the start.  How could she have let her own feelings for him blind her judgement? Tonight, this faux date, had been a beautiful unattainable daydream that quickly turned into a nightmare. 

 "I understand," she whispered solemnly, as he shook his head before turning to her with tears in his eyes. 

 "No, you don't understand Belle." He frantically ran his hands through his hair before standing up straight his eyes locked on hers. " I want to leave the priesthood. " 

 He awaited her reaction, but her body stood frozen at his confession. He started to pace before her. 

 “I know what you’re thinking. One night out of the cloth and he’s lost his mind. One kiss and I’m ready to throw away everything, my job, my life, my faith.” he stopped mid pace to look at her. “I haven’t lost my faith Belle. I have found it…in you. God put you in my life for a reason.  I love you, Belle. I want us to be together.”

 One would think hearing a priest confess their love would be sinful, and yet Belle felt no shame in hearing those words. What she felt was relief. This sinful dark secret was out, and it felt…freeing.

“Say something, anything Belle.” He looked at her, his eyes pleading for her to react.

X

“I love you too,” she confesses with no shame. With two large strides she reaches him, crashing her lips to his. Desperately they tug and pull at the other’s clothes till their heated bodies are both bare. He roams his hands over her naked body, the pads of his fingers scorching her skin. Her hands cup his perfectly sculpted ass, as he groans into her mouth. He picks her up, as she wraps her bare legs around his waist, and carries them to the bed.

His eyes shine with holy devotion, as he enters her. They whisper words of love as his thrusts grew harder and faster, brining them both over the edge. He pulls her close, and she lays her head on his glistening chest.

They do not speak about him leaving the priesthood, and the challenges they may face in that moment. That is a conversation for another day. Instead, he spends the night worshipping her body repeatedly, until they are both spent. The next morning, she awakes to find him on his knees next to the bed, praying.

He smiles as he sees she is awake. “I was praying that you didn’t wake up and tell me this was all a mistake. That this…us is a bad idea.”

Smiling, she leans over plucking a deep kiss from his lips. “No baby, this is a wonderful idea.”

#Rumbelle Secret Santa #roxymorondraws #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rss

[notalwayslate]

Santa here! Just a quick addition to my earlier message. Today, I finished your gift. Not all that remains is to edit it and try to catch all my mistakes! I sincerely hope that you will enjoy it!

Thanks so much Santa. It’s funny cause after work this week I was like I’ve got to buckle down and finish my gift, so I told myself no going online till I get it done. Then it dawned on me that I’ve got to come on to check and send messages. Lol! I’m so excited I can’t wIt to read it. Not going to lie I’m a little jealous cause I’m finding finishing my gift to be hard cause as we all know writing can be hard.

[notalwayslate]

Santa here, I hope your cold is getting better. Maybe a snippet would warm your cockles...

In answer, she closed the notebook, and slid it, and the pencil across the bar toward him. Then she hopped off the stool and held out her hand, palm upward. He looked at her and frowned.

“Keys,” she said firmly.

“I really don’t think—” he began, and staggered slightly as if got off his own bar stool, forcing him to reach for the top of the bar, where, in cover of his inebriation, he snatched up the notebook and pencil.

I'm hoping it will all come together now that I've put pen to paper, so to speak. any particular last minute requests?

Enjoy!

#RSS