#for anyone wondering he's one of the prisoners of Rumpelstiltskin

[istoleyourboat]

Eyes of Gold - Rumpelstiltskin AU

This fic is dedicated to anubis-005 who gave me such a precious fan comic for one of my other fics and now I’m blessed to think about it for the rest of my life.

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Nene paced the small room full of straw. Judging from the windows, the descent below was too deadly for her to escape.

Leave it to her father to lie about her ‘ability’ to spin straw into gold.

And leave it to luck to let the lie spread to nobility.

The king separated her from her father and filled a room with straw just for her. He threatened that if she didn’t have an entire room of gold, he would have her head by sunrise.

After seeing that there was no means of escape, she placed herself near the window where she cried underneath the moonlight. Her father was desperate to get money after their mill burned down. As much as Nene hated to lie, scamming a few people was the last resort. She had no idea that a quick scam to get something to eat would turn into a fight for her life.

So she cried and cried and cried till there was no more water in her body.

When a hand offered her a handkerchief, she quickly got to her feet and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’ll get to work right away, the magic just needed a few tears is all-“

“You can cry magic?” a manly voice asked.

Once Nene opened her eyes, she was met with the sight of a smiling young man her own age. Or what she could guess was her own age, given how he obviously wasn’t human, what with the way he floated and all. He had this ethereal glow to him, which highlighted his handsome features. Though he wasn’t her type, he was undeniably attractive, in a strange otherworldly sort of way. Given his smile, it was as if he already knew her answer.

A bit shaken, she answered, “No. Unfortunately, I can’t at all.”

“Then why were you crying?”

So she explained everything to the strange man. How her father’s mill burned down, how they tried to scam a few people, and what led her to that prison. She even told him how the king would have her and her father’s heads if she didn’t spin all the straw into gold.

He tutted his finger at her. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to lie? Really, what a situation you’re in.”

“I know!” Nene exclaimed, a bit irked. “But it’s too late now.” She got back to the spinning wheel and started threading. “Sorry if my tears were too loud. I promise not to bother you again.”

His voice chirped. “You weren’t bothering me.”

Quickly, he floated towards her and whisked her away to the window, pointing to the full moon.

“And you shouldn’t give up so easily. The moon is a portal into my world and when you cried under it, I was able to hear you.” He set her down on her feet. “I could transport gold from my world and bring it here while you throw away the straw.”

“You would do that?” Nene asked graciously. “Oh thank you!”

He halted her for a moment and brought his hand up. “For a price of course. You can’t just get something for free.”

Nene shoved her hands into her dress pockets, patting it down to find something. There was nothing left over from the mill and she had no jewels or riches to give.

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to give you…” she muttered sheepishly. “I don’t think I have anything you’d want.”

Hanako stepped right in front of her. The click of his boots touching the ground echoed. “Nonsense,” he said. “In fact, what you’ll give me will help seal the deal.”

Her brow quirked. “What would that be?”

“A kiss. To seal the deal, we’ll make a pinky promise.”

“A- A- kiss?” she stuttered. Her face flared up in embarrassment. “Is a kiss really worth a whole room of gold?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? It makes things more interesting don’t you think?” Hanako held out his pinky towards her. “Do we have a deal?”

Although Nene’s instincts screamed at her to not make deals with shady moon men- no matter how handsome they were, a huge part of her felt safe, like she could trust him wholeheartedly.

As she held her pinky out to wrap around his, she looked into his eyes and saw no sign of bad intentions. Magic worked in strange ways… Maybe he was telling the truth. When his pinky grasped onto her own, he bent down and gave her a soft kiss on the lips, sending tremors down her body as she forgot how to breathe.

Parting away from him, she felt empty, tempted to kiss him once again.

“What’s your name?” she asked breathlessly.

Hanako gave a teasing grin.

“Just call me Hanako.”

.

.

.

Hanako did as he promised and kept disappearing in and out of the room. He’d exit out of the window and come back in with bags full of gold earrings, gold bars, and the like. Even if the king was confused by the straw turning into objects, Hanako assured her the king wouldn’t mind. Nene kept throwing straw out the window and every time Hanako came back, they shared many laughs and a few stories to pass the time.

Once Nene threw all the straw out the window, Hanako floated beside her. Hanako started to disappear into thin air as the moonlight faded. Before he left, he gave a kiss to Nene’s hand and laughed at her flustered face. By the time dawn came, the king came in to take in all the wonderful treasure.

“How magnificent!” the king cried out. “This is truly a gift.”

“Thank you,” she bowed. “Now I must check on my father-“

“Nonsense! In fact, I will give you another room filled with straw and you can give me more gold. In return, I’ll give your father a new mill. I’ll let the servants entertain you for a whole day.”

And so Nene was thrust into a whole day of pampering. She ate a wondrous feast as musicians came to play on their lutes and singers came to give their songs. All day long she was treated like a queen as all the servants rushed to her beck in call. By the end of the evening, she was dressed head to toe in rich silks while her hair shone like starlight.

It all would have been in good fun, had the king not been so greedy. Once again, he locked her into another prison. This time, there was even more straw. So much so, it reached the ceiling.

Sighing to herself, she plummeted her body to the window, wishing that she really could spin straw into gold. Hanako was so kind to have helped her. Although she didn’t understand why he’d want a mere kiss and a pinky promise, her heart swelled at his kind gesture. He must’ve been fatigued by the whole ordeal. If there was anything to comfort Nene, it was the fact that her dad was probably living happily at his new mill.

She felt her head lean against someone’s shoulders. When she turned her head, she was delighted to see her friend once more. “Hanako?! What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see you,” he said. Taking in all the straw, he whistled. “More straw for gold? What a tyrant.”

Nene hung back her head in defeat. “Yes… But luckily my dad is free and at his new mill. Even if I die tomorrow, at least I’ll die knowing that.”

“Who said you were going to die?” He chuckled. “I certainly won’t let that happen.”

Nene couldn’t contain her shock. “You’re really going to help me? I’m sorry, but I can’t really give you anything. I didn’t take any treasure in here. All I can really give are the clothes off my back.”

“Well if you’re offering~” he teased.

She playfully swatted at him. Over the course of last night, she had learned he was quite a perverted trickster. Between his journey, he’d get her flustered by breathing into her ear and sneaking quick scares. It would’ve been frustrating if he wasn’t so devilishly charming. To tell the truth, she didn’t really mind his advances.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he joked. “But I do have something I want from you.”

“And what would that be?”

He leaned against her small frame and started to play with her fingers. “I want you to sing me a song. Whichever one you like.”

Nene’s eyes were fixed curiously. The straw had doubled in size and all he wanted was a song?

“Are you really sure a song is worth a room of gold?” Nene asked worriedly.  She felt incredibly guilty for not giving him anything of value. Although she knew that fairies and magic creatures operated by different rules, it still plagued her mind.

To her surprise, he just raised her hand to his lips and kissed it like he had the day before. “Anything from you is more than enough for me.”

Hesitantly, she placed her head against his shoulder and started to prod at his fingers. She sang him a lullaby that her mother sung to her a long time ago, when she was still a little girl who dreamt of leaving the mill. Nene was not like the other trained singers in the king’s court, but Hanako’s eyes drifted happily as they sat by the window, engulfed by shadows of the night sky.

Once her song was finished, he gave her a kind smile, awed by her gentle tune.

With that, the two got back to work as he brought in more gold and she threw out more straw. They laughed and sang till the moon faded out of sight, where Hanako gave another kiss to her hand. However this time, Nene noted, he looked a little sad in his departure.

Like the day before, the king came in and marveled at all the new pieces of gold. He set her out to be pampered once again. Only throughout the whole day, Nene could only think about Hanako and how she would repay his kindness. When the king announced that they would wed after she spun gold that night, Nene actually felt distressed. The king was her usual type, but the threat of her head chopped off made him extremely unattractive. To her surprise, when the marriage was brought up, her mind trailed back to the sweet kiss that she and Hanako shared.

Truly, what a dangerous thought.

.

.

.

Nene sat in the roomful of straw the third night. Thankfully there was less straw than the two previous nights. The king even gave her a little mattress to rest her body. No doubt it was to show her that he could also be ‘kind’ and ‘generous.’

She scoffed at the whole notion. How could he ever think about doing that to someone he’d consider as his future queen. Just as she approached the window, Hanako appeared right before her, as if he had been waiting for her.

“Oh, Hanako! Have you come to help me?”

“I didn’t think that little tyrant would let you off so easily. Is he still threatening to kill you?” He sighed, putting his hands on his hips expectantly.

Nene’s fingers started fumbling with each other. “Well, yes. But he also said that if I get all this straw spun into gold, he’ll make me his queen.” She gazed at him with pleading, innocent eyes. “So please help me…”

Unpleasant silence drifted into the room like a cloud. For the first time, Hanako frowned.

And even stranger, his tone turned gritty and callous. “Ahhh, I see. So even with all the times he’s tried to kill you, made you a near slave, you still want to be with him. Gee, I knew you were a romantic, but never I thought you’d be stupid.”

Her heart constricted and tears pricked the corners of eyes. “It’s not like that’s what I wanted any of this!” she yelled. “How could I deny being his queen? He’ll kill me if I say no. You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to go hungry or beg for some morsels to eat! At least if I say yes, he’ll give me a good life.” She had to turn away from him. If she spoke any more, she’d likely fall apart.

“I suppose I don’t understand.” He sighed defeatedly. “Very well, I’ll give you all the gold you need for your happily ever after.”

Before she could give him her new jewelry as payment, he held his hand up to stop her. “No need,” he said.

With a snap of his fingers, all the straw was replaced by shimmering gold treasures. Stacked high to the ceiling were gilded statues, metal flowers, and twinkling coins. All so beautiful and yet so empty.

She was absolutely dumbfounded. If he could do that all along, why bother to float in and out of the window to see her? Why go through all the trouble?

“Unfortunately, this is the last time I can help you. The people of the other world aren’t too happy about me bringing all this gold,” Hanako said. “I’ll have to spend a few mortal months paying it all back.”

Nene was disappointed to hear the news. All the fun times they shared came to an unsatisfying end. She should have known better than to think a mere kiss and a song were enough. Now poor Hanako would have to pay a price.

Once he faced the window and prepared to float away, Nene hugged him from behind, intent on trapping him there till he heard her pleas.

“You’ve done so much for me Hanako! I’m sorry I was so selfish…” He turned to look her in the eyes, a bit surprised by her apology. “What’s your price?” Nene humbly asked. “Surely I can give you something you’d want!”

He gave her a glance up and down, eyes enticed by her lovely face and soft figure.

“You.”

It’s all he said before he kissed her. The last thing she could feel was her back hitting the mattress.

.

.

.

When Nene woke up the next morning and gathered her clothes, she found herself missing the warmth of Hanako’s body. The cold stone tower gave off very little heat and the only thing to comfort her was the beat of his heart underneath her ear. As strange as it was, he felt even more human than the king.

Silence was the only noise in the room as the two made themselves presentable. Combing her hair around him has never felt so awkward, nor has it ever felt so lonely. From her left eye she could see his sulking figure and she felt her heart growing sad.

“Hanako, I-“

The door to her prison opened and like every night, Hanako vanished without a trace.

.

.

.

Nene’s marriage to the king was an incredibly unhappy one.

When she gave the excuse that magic could only spin straw into gold three times, he nearly had her head cut off. It was only until his advisors told him it would make him look monstrous to the kingdom that he put that idea to rest.

Their few months together were extremely volatile, with him muttering about how he had no need for her. Still, they were married and as most married couples, they were expecting a child.

But he didn’t so much as bat an eyelash when he found out she gave birth to a girl and not a baby boy.

‘She’s unfit to rule,’ he had said. ‘Name her whatever you want, I don’t care.’

After being so rudely dismissed, Nene could only trudge to her separate room as she held her dear daughter in her arms. The maids and servants gave her looks of pity, knowing all too well how cruel their king could be.

It had been over a month and her daughter still had no name. Nene didn’t have the heart to give her one, too tired and depressed to think about it.

Because the king hadn’t even tried to go near her daughter, he missed out on her adorable yawns and little hiccups. He left all of his parenting duties to Nene and a couple of nannies, who would often coo at the little princess. They cited how she looked an awful like Nene herself, with tufts of cream colored hair and a soft nose, an utterly perfect picture of beauty. She was a child that any parent would be proud to love.

As much as her daughter greatly resembled her, a peculiar thing to note was that her eyes were neither her mother’s shade of ruby red or the king’s deep onyx.  

They were a glimmering shade of gold.

.

.

.

Once again, Nene failed to get her husband to pay attention to her daughter. Setting the baby down in a cradle, Nene tucked her in with a little wolf toy that had amber buttons for eyes while she sang a familiar lullaby. When she was done, she sat in her own lone bed and wiped her tears away furiously. The moonlight that shone over the cradle did very little to comfort her. As strange as it seemed to be upset over a man not paying attention to what should be his daughter, Nene’s heart ached. Now she knew that even if the baby had been bred from his blood or borne from his feathers, she would be treated no differently. Still unloved, still unwanted.

“She’s beautiful,” a voice awed.

Nene gasped and flung her head back. The moonlight had seeped in through the window’s cracks and onto the cradle. Her sleeping baby’s hand was curled around Hanako’s finger. Hanako gave a tiny laugh, fawning over the precious thing. “What a beauty,” he whispered. “She looks just like you.”

When he heard nothing and turned to Nene, his brows creased in worry. “Why are you crying?”

It was hard not to tear up in front of him. Not only was this the first time she had seen him in almost a year, but he had shown more care to her daughter in two minutes than the king had in two months. What should she say? That her marriage was horrible? How she thought of him each time she looked at the moon? How the king’s daughter was actually his?

Instead, she confessed that the king was ashamed of not having a son.

If Hanako was annoyed with her sudden engagement, then he was absolutely furious when he heard the words leave her mouth. “How could a king not notice such a treasure? Not even a whole world of gold is an ounce of what she’s worth.”

Unable to hear anymore, she ran into his arms and cried a year’s load of tears into his shoulder. He hushed her graciously and grazed her cheek with his thumb.

“Oh, Hanako,” she whispered. “He won’t even look at her… And he hates the fact I can’t give him gold anymore. I’m just so miserable here…” Sinking her nose deeper into the crook of his neck, she muttered, “What should I do?”

Hanako took a hold of her small frame and smiled at her, looking even more handsome than the day she lost him. “Don’t worry, Yashiro. I’m going to set things right.” He walked the both of them over to the baby’s cradle. “Just follow my lead.”

.

.

.

The very same night, the king was stupefied to see a man from the moon come to him demanding his firstborn child. Nonchalantly he dismissed Nene’s concern with the wave of his hand. The king didn’t particularly care about Nene’s tears or the advisors warning him about magical creatures, he only paid full attention once Hanako threatened to steal away all his gold.

Hanako rolled his eyes. Of course he would only care about that.

Clearing his throat, Hanako glared down at the king. “Again, your wife promised me her firstborn child the moment I taught her how to spin straw into gold. But now that she’s broken her end of the deal, I’ve opted to take them both and all the gold she’s ever given you.” Hanako smirked viciously. “Unless you can tell me my name within the next hour.”

Making his way to the king, Hanako jutted out one hand. “Do we have a deal?”

The king grew nervous, clinging harder onto his jeweled rings and his throne’s handles. Shakily, he shook Hanako’s hand. As afraid as he was, he was even more afraid of losing all his riches.

Hanako smiled mischievously. ‘Excellent’, he thought.

Once the deal was done, the king ordered everyone in the room to guess the moon man’s name. All the advisors shouted possible names, ranging from Aito to Zenshiro. They used their own names, their family’s names, and even scoured through books to find a name.

As the hour ticked by, Nene and Hanako were elated at the king’s futile efforts. Any minute now and their deal would be done. More than fifty minutes passed by when all the advisors were at their wit’s end, stammering as the king grew more and more frustrated.

Angrily, the king took a hold of Nene’s shoulders and shook her violently. She clung onto the baby as her husband’s voice got louder.

“Tell me! You must know his name!” the king yelled. “How could you not!”

Seething in rage, his fingers started digging deeper into her shoulders. She yelped in pain as the baby started to cry from the motion. “You planned this all along, didn’t you? You planned on stealing my fortune from the very start! You useless piece of-”

The king could not finish his sentence as a fist collided right into his face and sent him flying. His neck nearly collided with the throne’s platform as his nose was painted in scarlet.

Everyone stood in shock as the moon man shook off blood from his knuckle.

“That’s enough,” Hanako grit. “Your time is up.”

With the snap of his fingers, the room started spinning. Everything- even the gold off of their hands and ears, was snatched away, vanishing into thin air.

There was almost nothing left in the throne room besides a few fragments of wood and a couple of fabrics, which scattered along the floor when the wind came.

Fed up with the royal’s nonsense, Hanako sneered at the king’s shock. The lavish room looked nothing more than a pile of shabby dust. Turning to Nene and the baby, his eyes softened.

Gently gathering her up into his arms, no different from how a man would carry his bride, he floated high and above. The moonlight engulfed their bodies while he gave a victorious smirk.

“I’ll be taking my wife and my daughter back.”

With that, he and the miller’s daughter were never seen again.

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.

.

“So you knew all along…” Nene flushed. Her baby was sleeping once again, this time in a cradle from the other world.

Hanako laughed. “Of course I did.” He laid his chin on top of Nene’s head and held her close with his slender arms. “She has my eyes.”

How he was able to tell, she doesn’t know. Save for her brief cries in the throne room, her baby had been asleep the whole time. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn’t care. If Hanako called her his daughter, then that was all she needed to hear. The memory of his finger engulfed by her infant’s hand was more than enough.

“And you don’t mind?” Nene asked.

You don’t mind having a daughter? You don’t mind me?

Hanako placed a kiss to her temple. “If I did, would I have stolen you away? You can be so silly, Yashiro.”

She could feel his heartbeat right behind her back as they stared down at the infant. Turning around, Nene’s eyes lowered as her smile widened. “Well if that’s the case, then you should be the one to name our daughter. It’s only fair.”

Before he can leap in joy, she pinched his nose and giggled when he winced. “You better make it good though! You know how hard it was to take care of a kid all by yourself? You owe me about nine months of care!”

He chuckled amorously. “Of course, I do,” he teased. “I’ll give you all that and more.”

Bending down to feel the soft texture of his daughter’s cheeks, his eyes came down in bliss. Besides her mother, she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

“Mizuki. Let’s call her Mizuki,” he said.

Nene leaned her head against him, happy to have heard such a lovely name. Quite befitting for a daughter of the moon.

#istoleyourboat #rumpelstiltskin au #anubis i love you please take this fic as a humble offering #i would literally write more stuff for the royal cards au if you asked #that fan comic got me like #❤️ #hananene

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 16: A Confession

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

In which Rumple leaves the jail, but is not free

Read on AO3

He waits in the darkness. In this prison, his magic is useless and there is nothing to do but wait. Has he been here for weeks or for months? When his wife fretted over his future, did she worry about him being so bored?

His cell is at the end of a long tunnel. The only torches are at the mouth of the corridor, where the guards are stationed. His captors are quiet tonight, but sometimes he hears them talking to each other. They tell tales of him, warning each other against his power, his evil, his devious tricks. They speak as though they are in danger just by being in his presence. 

They are not wrong. 

If he wanted to, he could kill them with his bare hands. He wouldn’t need magic or a weapon. His own strength and viciousness would be enough to rip through their armor and tear out their throats with his teeth. 

It is fortunate for the guards that he has no intention of harming them, or of escaping. He is exactly where he wants to be. This cell is insulated from magic, it is both a prison and a fortress. If there is any place in this world where the effects of the Queen’s curse might be mitigated, even a little, it is here. In this black hell, that faint spark of hope shines like the sun.

Movement. 

At the end of the tunnel, lights grow brighter. Another torch has been added to their number. Footsteps echo in the stone cave. Alerted, he sits up. He pounces away from the wall. He crouches on the dank ground like an animal, claws raised, teeth bared. 

“Come closer, dearie.” His words are sweet as treacle, but he laces them with poison. “How kind of you to visit me in my loneliness!” 

There is a gasp at the end of the hallway, half-stifled. The visitor is afraid, but is trying not to show it. The footsteps hurry forward, soft and quick. The torchlight grows brighter as it comes closer. 

It is a hooded figure, he cannot see its face. The body is small, and the cloak is patterned with green and yellow leaves.

He knows that cloak. He made it himself.

He cannot get his hopes up. He is imprisoned in the stronghold of his enemies. No illusion is beyond the grasp of the Evil Queen or the Blue Fairy. Either one of them could be trying to deceive him. Trying to exploit his weakness for their own gain.

 Or madness could be taking over his mind. His own hope could be twisting around on itself, creating a vision of what he wants. The one thing he wants to see more than anything else in the world.      

“Come closer, I said!” His voice is rough with disuse, with emotion. In this pit of despair, he does not dare hope. He doesn’t want to believe that it could be…

“You cannot order me about, Rumpelstiltskin. Not anymore.” The voice is clear and beautiful, like clean water in the middle of a drought. The light stops moving when it fills his vision. The figure sets a torch in a sconce. Finally, he can see her. Her face. Her furrowed brow, her shaky smile.  “You must at least say please.”

“Please,” he breathes. 

It is a short fall, to go from crouching to kneeling, but being near Belle again requires nothing less. He must get on his knees to her--his wife, his love, his dearest wish. 

Trembling, he reaches through the pointed bars of his cell. Without hesitation, her hand clutches around his. She is on her knees as well. Her flesh is warm and soft.

“You’re real.” This is no trick. He knows it as surely as he knows anything. “You’re alive.”

She bites her lip as she looks at him. He must be filthy, haggard, even more hideous than usual. But she is not repulsed. Only full of pity. 

“What have they done to you?” she whispers. 

“Nothing I didn’t deserve.” He cannot think of his own troubles, not while she is in front of him. “How did you come to be here, my darling?”

“The guard tonight is a dwarf called Sleepy.” She puts on a brave face, tries to make a joke. “He lives up to his name.”

He cannot tear his eyes from her. “And you have made yourself at home in this castle?”

She nods. “Our plan worked. The Prince ‘rescued’ me. And the side of goodness proclaimed me as one of their own.”

“You are,” he sighs. He has never seen a sight more beautiful than the woman who loves him. “You are goodness, my love. The royals should count themselves lucky that they get to be on your side, let alone that you want to be on theirs.”

Her hand clenches around his. “I’m on your side,” she promises. “We are working together, even when we are apart.”

“Yes.” He holds her hand in both of his and brings it to his lips. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“And I miss you.” 

She reaches into his cage. She grasps at his clothes, pulling him closer. Their mouths meet between the iron bars. Her kiss is honey and sunshine and the breath of life. It is meat and blood and peace. He cannot get enough of her. He will never have enough of her. Not until they are truly together, when all the curses are broken and they can live the rest of their lives without fear. 

They break apart at the same time, both of them gasping for breath.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispers. “If they find you with me, they will lock you up as well. They will think you are evil. They will try to purify you with scourges and flaying.”

“I know,” she agrees. “But I couldn’t stay away. If only I could be with you always. I would stay with you, even in this terrible place.”

“I know.” He rests his forehead against hers. They breathe together, an act of unity just as important as a kiss.

After a moment, he steps back. There is space between their bodies now, though their hands still touch against the bars. He rubs his thumb over the smooth gold of her wedding ring. 

“How are they, up in the outside world?”

“Everyone is panicking over Regina’s curse. They’re trying to stop it, but they don’t know how.”

“If only they had the most powerful user of dark magic in the world trapped somewhere nearby with nothing to do but offer advice to anyone who asks.”

Belle’s pink lips quirk into a half-grin. “Perhaps they need a reminder of that fact.”

“And how is Snow White bearing her firstborn?”

“I haven’t spoken to her much. But I’ve heard that she is often brought low with melancholy. The Prince insists that there is a way to fight the curse, but she is losing hope.”

“Is she desperate?”

“She will be.”        

“Good.”

The Dark One trades in desperation. Much of his power comes from fear--not only the fear that people have of him, but of the things they fear so much that they are willing to pay him whatever he asks for. 

“The child,” he whispers. “Have they given it a name yet?”

Belle shakes her head. “In this land a prince or princess is not named until after it is born. There is a grand ceremony when the name is spoken for the first time and proclaimed to the whole kingdom.”

“We won’t have time for that,” he snarls. “The curse is coming! The name of the Savior has power. I must know what it is!”

“You will.” She soothes him. She presses her palm against his own. Their scars match up, at the place where they mingled their blood on their wedding day. “I believe in you. We will find a way.”

His breathing slows as her nearness cools his rage. “Together,” he agrees.

His wife looks over her shoulder. “They will change the guard soon.” She bites her lip. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back.”

“You shouldn’t come back.” He forces the words out. “You shouldn’t be here now.”

“Well you can take me over your knee when we see each other again.”

He snorts his surprise and amusement. She is too good, too perfect.

She looks over her shoulder again. “Before I go,” she says, “I have something to ask of you.”

“Anything, my love. Though I have little to give as I am now.”  

“It is something from your mind. Something to occupy your thoughts until we meet again.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to think of a name for our baby.”

His eyes widen. He blinks, several times. 

“Something you want to tell me, sweetheart?”

She smiles. “No, my love. Only that there is a future for us. Snow White is not the only person who can have an important child. We will be together again. And when we are, we will be a family. All of us.”

He nods. Already his mind is racing with every name he can think of. Names have power. The name of Belle’s child must be perfect. Meaningful. The enormity of the task is enough to fell him. What a brilliant woman his wife is! What a wonderful gift she has given him!

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you for reminding me that all of this is temporary.”

Her face breaks, but she keeps herself from weeping. “I love you so much, Rumple.”

She presses in to kiss him again. It lasts for an eternity. It is over too soon. 

Before she leaves, she offers him one last assurance: “I will see you again.”

****

Rumpelstiltskin spent the better part of a day in the jail cell of the Storybrooke sheriff station. Apparently Sheriff Swan was the only officer with the authority to release detainees, and her presence was required outside the station until later in the afternoon. 

She sent her heartfelt regrets.

He didn’t mind much. The Dark One had learned long ago that there was power in appearing to be at the mercy of his enemies. Captivity in particular had its advantages. No distractions, for one thing. There was nothing he could do now except think, and plan.   

Another advantage was that people would have to come to him. Someone had taken the cup that had belonged to Belle. Someone knew what that cup was, and what it meant to him. Someone had tried to draw him out. And someone would be thinking that their scheme had worked.

So someone would be stopping by to gloat.  

There was no doubt that the culprit knew what had happened by now.  Even if Mrs. Gold’s drunken outburst hadn’t drawn a crowd, news spread fast in a small town. Enough people had heard her shout at him in Granny’s. And enough people had seen Emma helping Mrs. Gold walk to the station. And by mid-morning enough people had noticed him in the holding cell. 

For a few hours, Rumpelstiltskin entertained himself by imagining how wild and salacious the rumors could get. Any fool would know that Gold and his wife had participated in a public shouting match, but what else could they think of? That he had used violence? That Mrs. Gold had fought back using her high heeled shoes as a weapon? That her father had rushed in to defend her and Gold had beaten him bloody with his cane? Gold’s reputation was as the most feared man in Storybrooke. Nothing was too outrageous to believe.  

That reputation had saved Rumpelstiltskin a lot of trouble in his dealings with the people of Storybrooke. Even now, at the piddling mercy of uniformed police officers, a glare and a sneer were enough to keep them away from him. Every one of them paid rent to him, or owed him something, and they were all keenly aware of it. He was in a cage, but they were the ones who were terrified.   

So they made themselves scarce. The station was practically empty by the time Emma waltzed in with a bag from Granny’s. Walking along the central office area, she pulled wrapped sandwiches out of the paper bag and set them on all the desks. Presumably, she knew her workers well enough to know what each would want for lunch. And she cared enough to get it for them, an act that would certainly endear herself to her subordinates. 

Emma pulled out the last sandwich from the bag and held it out as she walked over to the cell. “I figured you for a pastrami guy.”

Rumpelstiltskin let himself reach out and take the food. He held the oil-soaked paper bundle in both hands and didn’t open it. “Corned beef, actually.”

“I’ll remember that for next time you’re in here.” It was a joke, but it was also a threat. Emma leaned against one of the desks in front of the cell, facing him with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“I believe you mean the first time I actually commit a crime,” he countered. Getting her to put him in jail had been nothing but a bit of theater, a convenient way to keep Mrs. Gold from the same fate. They both knew he wasn’t being charged. 

“The next time I catch you trying to get a drunk woman to go home with you against her will.”

“Ah, well.” He shrugged, playing his part. “Given Mrs. Gold’s impulse control, I can’t make many promises on that topic.”

“If you’re trying to convince me that any part of this is her fault, that is not going to happen.”

He let her have that one without further argument. Emma Swan was smarter than most people in this town. She had the rare gift of First Sight--the ability to see things as they really were, and not how everyone knew they were supposed to be. Outside Storybrooke, it had probably been an advantageous skill. But here, in a place where reality itself was subject to the most powerful curse ever made, she was wrong even when she was right. 

Nothing Mrs. Gold’s life was her fault, that was true. But it wasn’t Rumpelstiltskin’s fault either. Gold had preyed upon a young woman. Regina had cursed them all. Emma was the only one who could fix everything, but not in the way she thought. Not in any way even someone as smart as her could imagine. 

He held up the sandwich. “Thanks for picking up lunch,” he said. “Do my tax dollars include dessert?”

Emma stood up straight, arms swinging with deliberate casualness. “You sit tight, Gold. I’ve gotta go find some paperwork before I can release you.”

She went out into the hallway, and Rumpelstiltskin knew he was in for at least another two hours of incarceration.

It didn’t matter. Emma thought she was punishing Gold, but really she was keeping Rumpelstiltskin free for a little while longer. 

He didn’t want to face Mrs. Gold. Interacting with her was torturous under regular circumstances. After last night--and the night before that, and the day in between--living with her would be nearly impossible. 

It had finally broken apart. The facade of a marriage that he had spent five months hiding behind had cracked and shattered. She had heard him call out to Belle. She accused him of infidelity. Even Mrs. Gold’s unwavering obedience to her husband had finally bent under the strain of Rumpelstiltskin’s neglect.  

Part of him was relieved. It was one thing to wear a mask in front of his enemies, but it was something altogether different to constantly deflect the attentions of a woman who only ever wanted to please him. She lived in his house, she was with him all the time. Until last night, they had slept in the same bed. It had worn on him, to have Belle’s body so near, so willing--and have to reject her again and again. Perhaps now Mrs. Gold would get it into her head to reject him.

Would she leave him? 

Long ago in their cursed life, Mrs. Gold had burned bridges with everyone she had known before her marriage. She had no support structure, no money of her own. Her job skills would be enough to get her part-time work at minimum wage--if anyone wanted to hire her. The woman’s reputation around town would scare away most respectable employers. Without Gold, she would have to go begging back to her already impoverished family. Or she could try to ingratiate herself with some other wealthy man in Storybrooke. Gold had often insulted his wife by calling her a whore, but what other option had he given her?

If nothing else, Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t let Mrs. Gold make any more reckless decisions with Belle’s body. Though the illusion of the marriage had dissolved, he would have to maintain control over Mrs. Gold somehow.

Probably through money, or comfort. At her core, Mrs. Gold was a practical woman. She knew that her relationship with Gold was a simple deal. If Rumpelstiltskin altered the deal, perhaps she wouldn’t make a fuss. 

An image from the night before floated through Rumpelstiltskin’s memory: Mrs. Gold, drunk and heartbroken, fighting against Emma in her need to lash out at him. “You’re supposed to love me, you bastard!”

Where had she gotten that idea? Gold had never allowed his wife to entertain notions of love between them. How could the way Rumpelstiltskin had been treating her possibly lead her to that conclusion? Mrs. Gold had said she loved him, when he had been dreaming of Belle. Had she been dreaming as well? 

Had Mrs. Gold been dreaming of her husband? Or had Belle been dreaming of Rumpelstiltskin? What was happening to the curse?

Emma came back with a manila file folder in her hand. She strode purposefully through the station, perfectly comfortable wielding her authority. She was truly the combination of her parents--a born princess and a seasoned war leader. She was the Savior, the curse-breaker. All he had to do was hold on until she started saving everyone.

There was a clear line of sight between the Sheriff’s office and the holding cell. Rumpelstiltskin watched as Emma put the folder she had just brought in at the bottom of a stack of similar files. He took that to be all the paperwork she would have to get through before she would deign to release him. 

****

After twenty minutes of industrious silence, the sound of running feet broke through the hallway outside. To Rumpelstiltskin’s ear, the running sounded happy, excited, young. A child with boundless energy, finally free to burst toward something they want.

Following the running was the methodical click of high heeled shoes. For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin thought that Mrs. Gold had come to the station. But no, these footsteps were more authoritative, businesslike.

He wasn’t surprised at all to see Henry Mills come bounding in to the station and make a beeline for Emma’s office. And of course Regina would be slinking right behind him.

“Sheriff Swan, I’m going to permit you half an hour with my son.” Regina announced this piddling allowance of time like it was a gift. “Take him out for ice cream.”

Rumpelstiltskin watched Emma’s eyes flit from Regina, to Henry, to the empty station, to himself, and then back to Regina. “You’re expecting me to leave you alone with a prisoner?”

Regina lifted her chin and looked straight ahead at the cell. “Twenty-nine minutes.”

This time, Emma’s look went only from Henry to Rumpelstiltskin. “Are you okay with this?”

He shrugged. “Bring me back a cone?”

Emma nodded to him, then spoke to Regina. “We will be right back.”

“Yes, you’ll have to be,” the Queen said smoothly. She stood still as Emma and Henry bustled around her, jabbering excitedly as they left. It really was remarkable how much both mother and son lit up when they were together. 

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t move. He stayed seated on the cell bench and let Regina come to him. She perched on the arm of the sofa in front of the holding cell. She had a large, black leather purse slung over one shoulder.

“Madame Mayor,” he said in tones low with menace. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“Mr. Gold, I think we might be able to help each other.”

The audacity of this woman. Under any other circumstance, she would have nothing to offer him. And yet…

“When two people each have something the other wants, a deal can always be struck.”

She gave him a tight smile. “I hoped you’d see it that way.”

“But do you have something I want?”

Instead of answering, Regina crossed her legs and pushed back the blazer of her smart business suit. “You know, all day I’ve been hearing the most terrible rumors about you and Mrs. Gold. I do hope everything is alright between you two.”

“My wife,” he said slowly, “has not been herself lately.”

“Or is it you who haven’t been yourself, Mr. Gold?”

He looked at her, impassive. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

“I’m sure you do.” The Queen took her purse off her shoulder and set it on her knees.

Rumpelstiltskin tried not to stare at the bag. He looked instead at Regina’s face. “Why are you here?”

“Like I said, to help you. And to receive some help in return.”

“What do you have to offer me, dearie?”

“Not much,” she smirked. Without looking down, Regina reached into her purse and pulled it out. The chipped cup. “Just a… sentimental little keepsake.”

It took all of Rumpelstiltskin’s resolve not to leap to his feet and demand the cup. He wanted to break these steel bars and rip the cup from Regina’s hands--and rip her hands from her arms if she wouldn’t surrender it. That was Belle’s cup. This witch had no right to touch it!

Instead, he stayed still. All his energy, all his rage, focused on the cup. He focused on Regina, who dangled it by the handle.

“How?” he rasped. How had she known about the cup? How had he let his cover slip? How had she broken into Gold’s house?

“Flimsy locks,” she quipped. Then the Queen turned more serious. “I have power in this world, more power than you know.”

“But not enough,” he hissed. “You will never have enough power to beat me.” 

She shook her head. A faint chuckle entered her voice. “I already have. I know what your weakness is.”

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed and made himself shrug. “It’s just a cup.”

“But you want it,” Regina purred. “And you’ll give me what I want in order to get it back.”

“What is it that you want, dearie?”

“I want you to answer one question. And answer it simply.” She squared her shoulders before she asked: “What is your name?”

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t hesitate. “It’s Mr. Gold.”

The Queen glowered at him. “Your real name.”

“Every moment I’ve spent in this world, that has been my name.”

Regina leaned forward, closer to the bars. “What about moments spent elsewhere?”

He locked his eyes on hers. “What are you asking me?”

“I think you know.” Clearly her patience was running thin. “Tell me your name.”

And with a sly grin, he confessed: “Rumpelstiltskin.”

The deal done, he took the cup from Regina’s unresisting hands and cradled it in his own. He looked it over, making sure there was only one chip. Belle’s cup. Their cup. It was safe.

When he looked at Regina, she was fairly glowing with triumph. 

“What gave me away?”

“Belle did,” Regina said smugly. “I’ve been watching Mr. and Mrs. Gold for, well, a very long time now. I could see that something was wrong with her. But you seemed perfectly normal. Suspiciously normal.”

His own caution--his own commitment to playing the role of Gold--that was what had exposed him. Still holding the cup in both hands, Rumpelstiltskin sat back against the wall. “So,” he said, “as long as we’re being honest with each other, let’s remember how things used to be.”

“We used to work together,” Regina said, incorrectly. “You used to help me without so much… hostility.”

“That was before you ever came after what was mine, Your Majesty.” He shook his head and tutted. “You really should be more careful about who you make your enemy.”

“You mean my victim,” she sneered.

“And how much longer do you think that will last? Haven’t you noticed the curse getting weaker?”

“But I am just as strong as ever!” The Queen rose to her feet. She looked down on him with regal disdain. “You’re the one who’s letting your biggest weakness galavant all over town!”

Clutching the bars of the cell, Rumpelstiltskin pulled himself up to stand “For your sake, I hope that isn’t a threat.”

“Of course not.” Regina closed her purse and began to leave. “I’ve barely spoken to Mrs. Gold. I’m certainly not the one who brought her so much pain she got drunk in public and started crying in the street.”

With a satisfied smirk, Regina turned on her heel and left.  

****

Darkness had fallen by the time Emma officially let him out. Winter nights came early in Maine. If the sheriff noticed the teacup in his hands, she didn’t mention it. 

His first thought was to walk back to Granny’s where he had parked Gold’s car the night before. But then he remembered that he had given the keys to Mrs. Gold so she could take herself home. So he would have to walk to the house.

He only hoped that she would still be there when he arrived.  

The house was dark and the door was unlocked. Gold’s heavy ring of keys hung in plain sight on the first hook by the door. Rumpelstiltskin took the keys and put them in his pocket. Flimsy locks, Regina had said. She had broken into his house and stolen one of the things he valued most in the world--and he hadn’t noticed until it was too late. The cup could have been missing for days before he went into Gold’s study and saw that it wasn’t where he’d left it.

Would she attack his home again? Should he arrange to put double bolts on all the doors? Or was she just trying to toy with him? This was a world the Queen had made. It shouldn’t surprise him that she had her own ways to take anything she wanted from anyone. 

Noise came from one of the inner rooms. It took Rumpelstiltskin a moment to recognize the sound of the television in the living room. Gold had never cared much for the “idiot box,” so it had been an easy device for Rumpelstiltskin to ignore. 

He went toward the noise, turning on lights as he went through the house. In the living room off the kitchen, the only light came from the flashing bluish glare of the television. Mrs. Gold was sitting on the couch, curled in on herself under a blanket. She was staring vacantly at the screen, letting the sounds and images wash over her. 

Was it just the blue light, or was she paler than normal? The shadows of this dark room brought out the hollows in her cheeks and under her eyes. He could see the sheen of tear tracks on her skin. Unwashed hair hung limply around her face. Her lower lip was dark and swollen from where she had been biting it.

For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin didn’t move or speak. Mrs. Gold hadn’t noticed his arrival. Briefly, he wondered if she was drunk again. If she was trying to deaden the pain of her existence by deadening every other sense. But no, there were no bottles anywhere nearby. Mrs. Gold’s pain by itself was enough to deaden her senses.  

He turned on a lamp and let a soft golden glow invade the harsh blue. Mrs. Gold jumped out of her daze. Unlike other times when Rumpelstiltskin had surprised Mrs. Gold, she didn’t hop to attention like a trained animal. She didn’t stand up and present her body for his approval, she didn’t kneel before him like a slave. Instead, Mrs. Gold sank back into the corner of the couch. She wrapped the blanket tightly around herself. Her eyes were wide as she looked at him in silence.  

She was afraid. 

When she had looked at him like this before, Mrs. Gold had been afraid of what she knew was coming. She knew how cruel her husband was, what the consequences were of displeasing him. But now it seemed she was afraid of the unknown. She had said it herself: All that matters is that I don’t know who you are. Whether she knew it or not, Mrs. Gold was afraid of Rumpelstiltskin.  

“Hi,” he said softly. He tried not to alarm her any further.

“Hi,” she answered, still staring at him. She didn’t let her guard down. She muted the television and turned to face him.

“I… I didn’t know if you would still be here.”

Mrs. Gold shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” She broke their eye contact and  looked down. “I didn’t know if yo u would let me come back if I left.”

Rumpelstiltskin clenched his fist around his cane. Was her uncertainty a reflection of Gold, or of himself? Gold had done so much to hurt his wife, but Rumpelstiltskin was the one who had hurt her most recently. He was the one who had made her like this.

“Mrs. Gold,” he said. “Please, I know things are… confusing right now. But please know that this is always your home, and I will always provide for you.”

“Why?” The word was a whisper in a silent house, but it carried all the weight of the world. “You’re not fucking me. You don’t even like me. Why do you bother with me?”

The chipped cup was still in his hand. He set it down on an end table and moved to sit in one of the high-backed chairs across from the couch. Rumpelstiltskin leaned forward, his arms on his knees as he spoke to Mrs. Gold. 

“Because I have a duty to you,” he answered. “I have a responsibility to care for you.”

She snorted and shook her head. 

“To take care of you,” Rumpelstiltskin amended. “I owe you that much, Mrs. Gold. It is the absolute least I can do.”

 “How nice of you.” Her voice shook with bitterness. “How super fucking charitable! How long will that last, do you think? How long until you get tired of doing the least you can do?”

Mrs. Gold’s hands twisted in the blanket. Her face screwed up into the picture of unspoken agony. She let her hair hang over her face and took a few ragged, sobbing breaths.   

He wanted to go to her. He wanted to comfort her. Belle or not, she was a woman in pain and he knew that he could soothe her. That was the least he could do.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

He stayed in the chair, shoulders slumped, and waited for her to calm herself. 

“Mrs. Gold,” he tried, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be the man you married.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Is that it?” On the couch, Mrs. Gold was shaking. “Are we… Is it over? Us? Our marriage?”

“No,” Rumpelstiltskin spoke before he could think. “No, I want you with me, dear. I don’t… I don’t want us to be separated.” 

“But you don’t want us to be together.” She wiped her cheek with the palm of her hand. “Not like we were before.”

“I know it’s complicated,” he said. “I wish I could tell you more. Truly I do. But right now let’s just say that I have enemies and you are better off under my protection. All I’m asking is for you to trust me.”

She let out a shaking breath that could have been a laugh or a sob. “Does Belle trust you?”

It was a strange thing to hear Mrs. Gold say. Belle’s voice, saying her own name with so much suspicion and loathing.

“Yes,” he answered. “Belle trusts me with her life, though I’m not always worthy of it.”

For a long time, Mrs. Gold didn’t say anything. She shook her head, rocking slightly on the couch as tears streamed silently down her face. 

And Rumpelstiltskin sat there. Doing nothing. 

When Mrs. Gold was able to speak, she asked him: “Why aren’t you with her now?”

“With Belle?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I mean, you’re still a man who can get whatever he wants. If she’s so important to you, why aren’t the two of you together?”

Rumpelstiltskin sighed, trying to think of something plausible to say. “We want to be,” he started. “But, well, Belle is very far away from me right now.”

“What, does she live in fucking Australia or something? Or is she married too?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said in a tone he knew would make Mrs. Gold drop the topic. “What matters is that I have a responsibility to you, and I’m not going to shirk that just because I’m in love with someone else.”

Mrs. Gold winced, but then it turned into a grim smile. “Never thought I’d hear you say that you loved anyone, Mr. Gold. That’s why I never took it personally that you didn’t love me.” Abruptly, she stood up. “I’ll move my clothes over to the guest bedroom.”

“You can have the master--”

“No,” she cut him off. She seemed to have run out of emotions, and was now running on brutal practicality. “You need the bathroom in the master suite because of your leg. I won’t have as hard a time with the tub in the hall bathroom.”

“That’s… very thoughtful of you.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think.” She sighed and turned off the muted television. Now her half of the room was in darkness. “Believe it or not, this isn’t the worst deal you could have offered me.”

“What deal?” Rumpelstiltskin asked. He had been trying to be honest with her. He wasn’t aware that they had been negotiating. 

“A loveless marriage for a life of comfort.” She kept herself busy by folding her blanket and putting it away in a cedar chest. She didn’t look at him. “It is mostly the same as what we had before.”

Rumpelstiltskin stared at her as she walked out of the living room.

“Good night, Mr. Gold,” she said formally. “I’m glad you found your teacup.”

By the time he gathered himself enough to speak, she was already upstairs. A door slammed, and Rumpelstiltskin hung his head. 

So this was the future he was going to have with his wife.

#golden rings #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle angst

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 166:  Unwanted Conversations

"Belle will find you accommodations."

"Belle?!"

"Me."

Belle had thought he was questioning who she was. But he recognized the amount of shock and questioning in his tone when he'd echoed her name. He hadn't been asking who she was, Jefferson had only been stunned that he knew who she was, that he'd called her by name. That was why, hours after Belle had found them accommodations, hours after they should have eaten and gone to bed, he wasn't surprised to hear familiar heavy footsteps on his stairs.

He sighed, irritated at himself, just before the top of Jefferson's head appeared. It was one little mistake…but Jefferson wouldn't be able to let it go no matter how much he wanted him to. However, unfortunately for Jefferson, he wasn't about to admit anything to him, no matter what he thought. He'd been dreading this little encounter, this reminder of how they used to talk when he was a young boy, and therefore he was prepared for it. He was working on a potion, an important potion, possibly the most important potion of his life. It was a potion that hadn't been invented yet because he was inventing it right now. His goal was to get the glass vial he was using to absorb the magic he was pouring into it. With any luck, one day this vial would be capable of pulling out the essence of anything placed inside of it and grow that essence into magic. So, for example, if he placed some kind of identifier of two individuals in love inside of it, one day it might make a True Love Potion. That would be the key to their future.

He hoped that pressure was enough to distract him from Jefferson.

"Hard to believe we once considered a wife a curse," he exclaimed, jumping up onto a table to sit just like he used to.

"I don't anymore?!" he laughed.

"The girl…you called her 'Belle'," he retorted with seriousness. Going in for the kill, he liked to think he'd taught him that, even if he regretted it now. He could play dumb, pretend like he thought Jefferson had made a random comment, but he knew that it was actually an accusation. There was no reason to act like it was anything other than it was. Besides, in trying to ignore it, he hadn't a doubt Jefferson would read more into it than he wanted him to.

"I call you Jefferson, I call Regina by her name as well, perhaps you've forgotten, but I do tend to deal in names."

"This is different."

"She is but a maid!" he exclaimed with frustration, wondering why he was letting this get to him when he'd just decided it wouldn't a few moments ago. He just wanted to work on his potion and for Jefferson and his daughter to disappear into the night. He had enough to worry about where Belle was concerned, he didn't need Jefferson to remind him.

"No…that's no maid, Rumpelstiltskin."

"Caretake."

"I mean she's not of that class!" he rebutted with an amusement in his voice that matched the youth he'd once had. "She has all her teeth, clear skin, and her callouses are fresh. You only have to look at her to know she was raised well, outside of servitude. Not to mention she's too bold for her current status."

"Ah…clever observations," he smiled over his shoulder, trying to pretend like he was proud of himself for something that was currently eating away at him. "She is, in fact, a princess, or was I suppose."

"A princess?" he balked. "What the hell is she doing here?"

"I acquired her during a deal. Her Kingdom was under attack, they needed rescuing, so I chased off the demons and got her in return. Training her was…quite the chore."

Jefferson made a noise of agreement. He felt his stomach turn over at his comment and was grateful he'd turned his back on Jefferson so he couldn't see his face. He hated saying things like that about Belle. When he'd first taken her, he probably wouldn't have been disturbed by them, but now…she wasn't a dog. And she hadn't needed training, she'd "trained" herself and to remarkable success. She didn't need him. He knew that. He just wished he could convince himself that he didn't need her.

"She seems happy here."

"Oh my!" he piqued. "Perhaps you missed the tears and babbling over your daughter's body."

"No, I just have the sense to know that they were over my daughter's situation and not her own!" he insisted with a twinkled of jest in his eyes. Just like old times. He'd forgotten how smart he was, how he could joke and jest with a wit that matched his own. He'd forgotten how they could go toe to toe for hours while he was working. The relationship he had with Belle was different than the one he'd had with Jefferson. He didn't regret anything he'd ever done where Jefferson was concerned. But if pressed to admit it, he did miss conversations like this.

"She's comfortable here."

He missed conversations like this…not conversations about this.

"Perhaps…though that says more about the place she came from than it does about me."

"Does it?"

Yes. He was confident about that. What she'd gone through with Samuel, the conversation that he'd had with Samuel…that proved it. Being his caretaker made her a prisoner, that fact turned his stomach as well, but thinking back to all those days he'd stared at her in his cauldron…she never seemed to shine in her former role as she did here.

"You know…you remind me of this guy I met once in a realm called England," Jefferson went on offhandedly. "Dr. Jekyll was trying to create a serum that would give a person control over his inner beasts or something like that. He always said it was for his patients, but I could see…he too was constantly at war with himself."

He rolled his eyes and turned to face him.

"What are you babbling about?"

Jefferson was smirking. Knowingly. Suddenly he hated just how intuitive he was.

"You like her…and you're fighting it."

His heart was racing. The nostalgia of this conversation had passed. Now he just wanted to be left alone.

"I don't like anyone," he sighed, turning back to his work, though he knew he wasn't really working anymore. He couldn't work on a potion like this and expect to have a conversation of this caliber at the same time. It had been a poor idea to start with.

"That's a lie, and you know it. You like her."

"She's the maid."

"And you enjoy spending time with her. You like having her here."

"You know…I'm in no mood for jokes, tonight," he stated rounding on the boy. First those words from Samuel and now from Jefferson, he didn't want to hear anymore. "And after your daughter nearly died, I would think you'd feel the same."

"I always was a curious one, wasn't I? You told me so all the time."

"A trait I admired and relied upon, but one that I doubt your daughter needs now."

That did it. He'd chosen his words carefully, and the result was a shadow that erased the twinkling of youthful mischief in his eyes. Jefferson sighed, he rubbed his face with his hand and looked around as if he was seeing the room he was in for the first time, wondering how he'd gotten here. Being up here had been nostalgic, for both of them. But the time between then and now was longer than it seemed sometimes. He thought he was the only one that knew that, but it appeared that Jefferson wasn't immune to it.

"Ah…no. No, not so much," he finally nodded. For the first time since he'd known him, Jefferson appeared uncomfortable. It was like a light had gone out in him. That was what he'd worried about the first time that Jefferson told him that he was "retiring", that he would lose all those wonderful traits that made him who he was. Now he saw he hadn't lost those traits, rather he'd just shut the door on them; ironic considering how his hat worked.

"I wonder, though…do you ever miss it?"

Jefferson paused. He thought about it. The silence between them lasted so long that he could practically hear him considering how he wanted to answer the question. The answer was "carefully."

"I do," he finally settled before nodding slowly. "I do miss it…until I'm out in the woods playing hide and seek with my daughter, and then I know that there isn't a thing in this world that could tempt me into parting with her."

From a Realm Jumper to the Dark One, he thought that was an awful answer, just as he had years ago. It was the part of him still felt that he'd abandoned a remarkable gift for a dead wife and a game of hide and seek.

But, from one father to another, who had now spent close to two lifetimes doing everything in his power to return to his son because he knew there was nothing better than playing hide and seek in the woods-it was the best most truthful answer he could have given. That part of him was glad he'd given it; maybe even proud.

It was probably the human part.

It was probably his "inner monster" that didn't like it. It was also probably his inner monster that was done with this conversation.

"I'm off to bed. I'm sure you'll want to be leaving with your daughter first thing in the morning. I suggest you do the same," he lied. He hadn't slept or even set foot in his own room at night since Belle moved upstairs, and he didn't intend to start now. He didn't know if that was the human side of him or the monster side.

"I know a dismissal when I hear one," Jefferson sighed, hopping off the table. He was going, but suddenly his mind was racing, filling with questions, trying to work on a theory he'd only just put together a moment ago. A monster side and a human side…he knew which side liked Belle. But he wasn't sure that was the side that was going to get him back to Baelfire. Magic could solve every problem. But what if the cure already existed.

"Was your friend ever successful?" he questioned before Jefferson could leave.

"Who?" he asked, pausing on the stairs.

"The man from England…was he ever successful with his serum?"

Jefferson shrugged. "Not to my knowledge. He was younger when I knew him and still working on it. He always claimed it was missing something, but you might know more about him than I do."

"Would I?" he questioned with a small chuckle. Where would he ever get an idea like that?

Jefferson sighed as he looked around the tower and then scowled. A second later he wandered back in and over to a table where he kept a familiar bag. It was the one that he kept all the trinkets Jefferson had given him that led to other worlds. Though he had used it over the years, it still sat on the same table that Jefferson had left it. It was almost in the exact same spot. He watched as Jefferson opened it up and rummaged through it for a moment, before pulling out a small beaker of brilliant blue liquid. He took the beaker and set it down in front of him with a sigh.

"I guess you wouldn't," he stated, before leaving the room. The implication was clear. That was his portal to another world.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Belle #Jefferson #Mad Hatter #Grace #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

[lovelustfairiedust]

True Love’s Kiss

Part 1

It has half a day since Rumpelstiltskin sent Belle to town to fetch him straw. He knows in his heart he will never see her again, but he sits frozen gazing outside a castle window. Holding his breath for who knows how long unable to spin or work on the curse to help him find his son. For in this moment he does not wish to go to any other worlds until Belle returns to him. He found his whole body was flushed with emotions that he thought were lost on him. He has been the Dark One for so long he has forgotten the passions a mortal man has.

 Then out at the end of the road as far as his eyes could see he started to see the outline of a maiden. He thought it had to be Belle. No other would dare to stroll happily unto the Dark One’s Castle. But he used his magic to get a better look and it was her…his Belle, his love. Looking oddly proud of herself, smirking and giggling like she held a secret to her own. Rumple must have been looking upon her for a long time because she was about to open the castle door. He ran over to his spinning wheel trying to calm his heart and look like he hadn’t missed his maid, his prisoner.

“Oh good, you are back…I needed more straw.” Belle smiled her kind smile at him, the one that warmed even the Dark One’s heart. “You missed me, don’t even try to say you didn’t”. “Well I noticed that I had to my own tea and use magic to keep the fire burning…” with those words Belles smile faded and Rumple quickly backtracked…”so why yes I missed you being in my castle.” Her smile quickly returned but not as big.

 I know I love him but does he love me, is that women right that just by sending me to town, by letting me go it proved that this beast has a heart and that heart has love for me? Part of her believed it with every cell of her body but her mind was screaming at her that she shouldn’t’ of comeback that she was a fool to think she loved her.

“Belle, why did you come back?”

“Because I love you Rumple, because I had to come back. After…well…after I learned something.” Belle went over and sat between him and his wheel, the space that normally no other person inhabits except him. He backed away slightly just from the shock. The words she said to him not even sinking in yet.  She places her warm hand on his lap…so close to…him…he quietly gasps and next thing he knows Belles lips are on his and all of him feels like dissolving into nothing. He opens his eyes and smiles, wondering what is happening. He pulls away when he starts to feel the magic fading from him like water going down the drain. The eerie feeling making him nausea and pained.  

He snaps back and Belle pulls him “don’t stop its working!!”

“No Belle you don’t know what you are doing” …he roughly throws her back then stands and walks away.

“Why would you do that…why would you pull away from my love! From true loves kiss!” Belle screamed at him with the shrill voice of a scorned woman.

Then the Darkness in him starts to boil over, hearing in the most sinister voice inside him. Love you? You think anyone could love YOU! no way you are the Dark One, you have no room for love.

“Shut up Belle! And get out” screamed rumple he started shoving her towards the door with all his beastly strength. She wouldn’t move. She was hysterical and clawing at him, literally ripping his shirt trying to stay on her feet. Ultimately Rumple threw her in the dungeon aka her old room and locked the door. Belle screamed for a what felt like an eternity and then sobbed the rest of the night. Despite her screaming and sobbing the words “Rumple I really do love you” he shut her in their all night. Then he heard her call him almost like a siren a few times in the darkness of the night. He swore he must have been hearing things.

While he paced and spun, fighting his inner battle of light and dark. It was so hard for him not to go to her, get on his knees and beg her forgiveness and kiss her hoping to break the curse still. But he knew moving forward her love for him wasn’t the same. It was tainted by his darkness and even though it might be true love in the meanings of the words it would never be that magical true loves kiss. He would always be a “beast” to Belle now. She surely doesn’t want him as he is. And he has to many magical enemies to be mortal anyway. They would have to live a life running away from death. There is only way to fix this…let her go, and if she doesn’t go force her to leave any means necessary. It is best for her even if she can’t see it. “I will leave her in the cold dungeon all night she will be very mad at me by morning and will glad to leave.”

 Sunlight came and not soon enough. Rumplestilskin went and unlocked the door to find belle laying on the bed sleeping…but naked. He did not expect this especially since the room was frigid. Belles lips were trembling…he snapped his fingers and two blankets appeared on top of her. Belle awoken to a cold feeling that was actually painful all the way down to her bones.

“What were you doing foolish girl!? You could of died of the cold in here!”

“I thought you were going to come to me sooner and be angry. I heard some of the women in fathers castle speak of presenting their bodies to their husbands to make them not mad at them. To avoid…well…beatings…so I thought I would try and see if it would make you not angry with me anymore…so I could love you…”

 Innocent Belle never was even seen naked by Gaston, and she was going to show herself to him…a beast? He was so confused and no matter what her motive, he felt so unworthy. All his wanting to be cruel and cast her away is disappearing as he looks upon her beautiful face and her newly flushed cheeks. He notices that his cock all but ripping the seam of his tight leather pants. Which he just realized is why Belle’s cheeks are flushed. He drops his hands…”get dressed Belle, you are banished from my castle. Don’t speak I have made up my mind. This is just you wanting to be the hero and kill the beast by breaking the curse. You don’t love me.”

“How dare you tell me who I love” shouted belle almost shocking herself with her tone. Forceful but you could hear her fighting back tears. “I have been in this castle quietly waiting for you to kiss me or love me. To show me some affection. I have seen you look at me, and I see you how your body reacts to me as it is now. I might be naïve but I know enough to know that you liked what you saw…and what you are seeing now.

“ I do Belle I do but I am a beast as you call me, I am cursed and I have too many enemies to let go of this power…this magic…me as a mortal man would be  death sentence to us both! And the spell can no longer be broken. So the mortal man you hoped for, the man without the darkness can no longer exist ever in any realm. You can’t possibly still want me.”

 Belle looked at this man…this beast…and she saw pain, tenderness, and love. Rumple has never even spoken to her this much before let alone express emotions. She realizes in an instant he loves her too. He genuinely loves her. With a breath she realizes she is going to have to brave for both of them. She is going to have to rescue him. This idea of rescuing the Dark One brough a smirk and a chuckle to her.

 “What are you laughing at…what is funny I demand to know what you are laughing at!”  “Nothing you silly beast….just that you tell me that you are only a monster yet you speak of emotions and danger that lurks in the dark for you with pain in your eyes.”

Belle moves forward to him and he freezes in place about to snap his fingers and transport bell to her village…clothed of course…But belle grasps his hands before he can do the task. “See I know you rumple you are not going to get away from me that easy. He then notices that when Belle reached up for his hands her blankets fell off her…her skin is perfect. A beautiful porcelain white just like her chipped teacup he cherished. It is in this moment that Rumple knew there was no resisting her…

 “Dearie, if you let me have use of my hands they will be of good use to you.”

“Do you promise not to banish me from the castle?”

 I promise…

 “Okay Rumpelstiltskin, I trust you.” Belle slowly released his hands and she was trembling like a leaf when he pulled her into his arms.

 And like that Rumple knew his whole life is about to change and he was fearful but his love and desire for Belle and the nagging pain from his ever tightening leather pants won over any fear he might have.

#alternate universe #rumbelle #ouat fanfiction #ouat belle #smut #rating: nc17

[justsomewhump]

Memories Revealed (7/?)

Note: Quick update, now with all the explicit descriptions from previous chapters ;)

@killian-whump’s original piece is here, and you can read my additions from the beginning here.

Warnings: Rape, heart control, bodily fluids, memory wipe, humiliation. Make sure you’re a-okay with all the warnings from the first chapter too, if you haven’t read it yet.

Tagging @sherlockianwhovian, @hookaroo, @hollyethecurious, @mathildia  @killianjonesownsmyheart1 and @kingofmyheart14. If you want to be tagged/untagged, hit me up!

Word count: ~3k AO3

~

Set during 2x12

~

His chest hurt.

He winced, resisting the urge to sigh at the last moment. Deep breaths wouldn't feel good with cracked ribs, he assumed.

Eyes still closed, he moved his hand to check if the handcuffs were still there. The slight tug and clinging sound confirmed his suspicion. Not that he'd expected any less; it wouldn't be the first night he'd spend chained up, in any way, and he'd lie if he said he wasn't appreciating the soft, clean and dry bed and the painkillers running through his system, as the nurse had said.

It would probably classify as the most comfortable prison he's ever been in; which succeeded in making him drop his guard. Yet, his mind drifted off to Rumpelstiltskin and Belle. She may not have deserved being shot and losing her memory, but it was definitely better than associating herself with that monster, wasn't it?

His eyes snapped open when he heard someone breathing in the room. His mind was already fuzzy for some reason and his eyes adjusted slowly to the bright light, so it took him a moment to look around and notice Rumpelstiltskin standing at the corner of the room, looking at him.

Hook couldn't lie to himself; he knew that the shiver he felt down his spine was nothing but fear. But he could lie to him.

"Crocodile," he said. "Didn't expect you'd miss me."

Rumpelstiltskin didn't speak, only kept staring at him. Taking control of his fear, Hook forced himself to turn his head away in defiance. If that monster wouldn't grant him an answer, Hook wouldn't grant him anything. He glanced at the handcuffs for a moment, and assessed his disadvantage while looking away.

Hook wondered. Belle may have lost her memory, but others seemed to trust the Dark One now. Swan and that other man in the town line had begged him to stop, not because of Hook, but because they'd wanted him to... do the good thing. He almost winced at that. The Dark One, choosing to do good only when others ask him to. How noble of him. Yet, that meant something about his reputation here, and Hook wondered how much Gold would be willing to sully if it meant bursting out on him.

The privacy of the room and the handcuffs keeping him immobilized didn't help with his thoughts. Nor did the fact that Rumpelstiltskin started walking towards him slowly, still staring at him blankly.

"I wonder how long it'll take you to break out of these handcuffs now," he said, stopping a few paces away from the bed.

Hook wasn't comforted by the distance. "Considering I was stripped of any and any equipment, I guess I'll have to seduce my way out of them."

"Is that so?" Gold said with a semi-amused face.

Hook raised an eyebrow at him. Charm may be a cheap weapon in this occasion, but it's still one.

"And what are you going to do once you're out of them?" Gold said.

Bloody hell, he was taunting him. Hook had no idea how the justice system worked here, or how the prisons here were, but if he judged by how everything else looked in this town, it might take him some time - and charm, of course - to find a way out. And then what, indeed. He hadn't expected to survive completing his quest for revenge, but Gold didn't need to know that.

"Remember, sonny boy," Gold said and walked closer, leaning slightly towards him. "This is my turf. You know nothing of this world."

"I'm a quick learner," Hook said with a sneer, trying to cover how his breath had picked up.

"Still." Gold leaned his hands on the bed frame where Hook's hand was handcuffed to. "You saw what happened at the town line. The sheriffs themselves trusted I wouldn't kill a lowlife like you who'd just taken my love from me."

"Oh, I see. This is all about you, then."

"Of course it is, dearie. They don't even know you. What they saw was a man who shot an innocent woman. Why would they care if you lived or died?"

"I'll have you know Swan and I have met before," Hook said without thinking. After all those years, not having someone care for him hurt enough, having it thrown at his face hurt worse. But he tried to divert Gold's attention from Swan, saying, "Didn't end well. I suppose she'd made her own conclusion, not that different than the one she made at the town line." He realized he lost the argument on his own.

Gold appeared to be thinking for a moment, but then his face relaxed. "So as I said, I have a reputation to uphold. Unfortunately for me, your presence here is threatening that."

Hook raised an eyebrow. "You should know then that there are people here who already know."

"Really? Who?"

Hook struggled to keep his smug face. "Cora."

Gold narrowed his eyes, smiling. "I somehow doubt you'd share that moment of ours with a woman like that. And I doubt Cora would be interested in hearing about that."

"She likes to know secrets. And her... methods, aren't the most gentle ones, as I'm sure you know."

"Oh, I know. But I still doubt it." Gold raised his hand and touched the back of his fingers on Hook's cheek. Hook pulled away, breath picking up and chest starting to hurt. "That woman wants me all for herself," Gold added. "I'm sure she's somewhere out there, happy that Belle doesn't want me anymore." He caressed Hook's cheek again, and Hook had no more space to pull away. "So I'm sure that even though that kind of information would mean something to her, this specific one would disgust her." He pulled his hand away. "Now, seeing as you're not willing to cooperate, not that I'm surprised..."

Gold moved fast, and the only thing Hook felt was agony; his breath caught and a cold feeling appeared in his chest. He was disgusted to know the feeling by now without looking down at his chest.

Gold was keeping hold of his heart, squeezing ever so little. Hook took in harsh, short breaths, his chest hurting even more with all his injuries.

"Now, answer me with the truth. Have you told anyone about the previous time we met?"

"Yes," Hook croaked out, still struggling for breath.

"How many people?"

"One."

"Is that person alive?"

"Yes. I- I think." He'd hope not, but it was a frail hope.

"What's their name?"

Hook didn't want to speak; he couldn't humiliate himself further, yet he felt the words being forced out of his mouth, despite his shortness of breath. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain and whispered, "Peter Pan."

Gold's hand squeezed for a moment, and Hook would've screamed if not for the fact that all of his breath had left him, but then it relaxed, almost completely. Hook gasped in a breath, opening his eyes, and through tears in them he saw that Gold looked surprised, an expression which turned into mild amuse.

"How did he learn that?"

"He f-f-forced it out-t of-f me." He was breathing a little more easily now, but it was still short breaths running by an injured chest.

"Forced it out?" Gold looked away, apparently thinking. "How?"

Hook simply looked down at Gold's hand, still inside his chest.

"Oh. I see. Still thriving on human pain, isn't he?"

"You're... one... to talk."

"Now is that a way to talk when you're completely under my control?" Gold said, squeezing hard. Hook saw spots appear in his vision, and felt as if his chest was being sucked from inside. Gold relaxed his grip, causing Hook to gasp in a few short, agonizing breaths. "Now tell me, what did he do to you?"

Hook wanted to resist; he struggled desperately to, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "He t-tortured me."

"And?" A sadistic grin spread across Gold's face.

Hook closed his eyes, hoping to hide the despair in them. "He raped me."

Bloody hell.

Then Gold pulled his hand away, and Hook could finally breathe, despite his aching chest. He heard a magical whoosh sound and felt something change in the room. He opened his eyes, only to have his hope that Gold had left crushed.

He was still leaning above him, looking at him up and down, causing a shiver to run down his spine again.

No. No. Not now.

"You think you could handle a quick one?" Gold asked, looking at him in the eye blankly.

Hook shrunk into his pillow and shook his head. "I'll scream. They'll hear me."

"Who will hear you? Who will care?"

Hook started squirming, trying to get his hand off the handcuff again, ignoring his multiple sore places. "They won't forgive that."

"We'll see about that." Gold picked up the blanket over Hook's body, lowering it down to his feet.

"No! Stop!" Hook shouted despite his protesting chest. "No!"

Gold climbed between Hook's legs, undoing the belt of Hook's bathrobe. Hook still struggled, trying in vain to move away as Gold raised whatever that thing was they'd dressed him in, exposing his crotch.

"My, my." He looked at Hook's exposed, bruised skin. "It'll take you some time to handle playing with that thing again... though less than it'll take for your ass to stop hurting."

Hook looked at him, tears of fury and pain - and a bit of shame, he'd admit to himself - in his eyes. "So that's it? Belle doesn't remember you for a few hours and you find yourself another hole to stick your dick i-"

This time, he saw Gold move, and he knew he'd stopped breathing because of Gold's bare hand wrapping around his neck. "Don't you fucking talk about her. You don't get to talk about her after what you did. And she's not that! She's nothing like that!"

Hook wanted to talk back; he looked at Gold, his tears finally spilling, but his chest and throat felt as if they were on fire, and he couldn't move anymore. All of his thoughts were focused on breathing again. Finally, Gold let go, and Hook hadn't managed a breath before Gold's palm slapped hard against his cheek.

Hook looked at him, gasping for air as Gold leaned back on his heels and undid his belt and pants. "She's nothing like you," Gold said. "You're a filthy whore, just a hole for me to fuck, nothing more. You disgrace her even by putting her name in your filthy mouth."

Hook wanted to scream, to alert someone, even if it took them seeing him in that shameful state. But his chest still hurt, he could barely breathe, and Gold moved too fast. Hook gasped when he felt Gold's hands wrap around his thighs and raise them.

"You're too bruised for me to fuck you." Gold looked up at him, and Hook felt his blood freeze at how Gold's face now mimicked the expression on scaly faces from his nightmares. "I'm going to enjoy this. I hope you bleed hard."

And then Gold entered him.

And Hook couldn't scream.

He could barely breathe.

His body froze, almost collapsed under Gold's violent thrusts. His head fell back on his pillow, pushing against it as his whole body shook, both with pain and along with Gold's cock moving inside him.

He was looking at the ceiling, at the light sources and the square patterns on it, but he wasn't seeing. He could hear his own ragged gasps, Gold's heavy breaths, and the sound of his cock popping in and out, but he wasn't listening.

All his mind could register for sure was pain... and shame.

He wasn't even fighting back.

He was like an abandoned puppet, reducing himself to an object of his worst enemy's pleasure. And he wasn't fighting back.

He'd almost passed out from pain and lack of oxygen when Gold was done. He came inside him, then leaned over Hook's face and brushed away a few locks from Hook's sweaty forehead.

"I want so much to kill you right now," Gold said softly. "Everything inside me says I should. It would be just that easy..." His fingers trailed down Hook's face, then rested carefully around his neck.

Hook looked at him blankly, barely holding onto consciousness. He couldn't speak.

"But now... knowing you're here, ready and set for me to fuck whenever I damn well please..." He squeezed a bit, just enough to not cut Hook's breathing.

Hook still couldn't react. It felt so normal too, to just lie there, bleeding, with Gold's flaccid cock still inside him and his hand wrapped around his neck, and do nothing.

"Maybe another time," Gold said. "Maybe one time I'll just fuck you to death." He leaned in, mouth right next to Hook's ear. "That's the only death you deserve." He left a soft kiss at Hook's sideburns and sat up, pulling his cock out of him.

Hook whimpered, finally getting the strength to move. He raised his head a little, unable to look away from the blood staining the mattress between his legs.

"What a mess," Gold said, looking down. He touched the bloody stains with his fingers, closed his eyes, and sighed. "Why is it... just with you... that I..." Eyes still closed, fingers still touching the blood, Gold stayed there for a few moments and breathed slowly. He then opened them, looked at him, and grinned.

Hook closed his eyes and let his head fall back. If Gold was going to rape him again, he'd better do it now, and do it fast. He felt the warm, welcoming hands of sleep drag him in, but he snapped his eyes open when he suddenly felt clean from all the blood. He looked at Gold, who was now getting out of bed.

"What? You thought I'd leave all evidence behind?" Gold said.

"Evidence?" Hook whispered.

"Oh, you can still talk." Gold grinned again. "Guess I'll have to try harder next time."

"Next time?" Hook felt rage simmering beneath, about to burst out... if it weren't for all the exhaustion pulling him down.

"Of course," Gold said. "I don't know when exactly that will be, but don't worry." He placed his hand on Hook's cheek, and Hook didn't have the strength to move away this time. "That's a promise." He pulled his hand away, then smoke enveloped it. When it dissipated, two similar objects were in it. They looked like round twigs, decorated with feathers and thread.

Gold held up one of them, and it was illuminated in a magic, golden colour. Hook's head spun for a few seconds, before he saw Gold raise the second object and once again made it shine with magic light.

~

Killian dropped his hand, and the dreamcatcher slipped from it. He looked at the floor, at the lines between the wooden planks, but he wasn't seeing. He could hear the faint sounds of birds chirping and a car engine running from outside, but he wasn't listening.

Slowly, his mind came back to the present, and he started putting his thoughts in order. Thinking of what had happened so it made sense.

He now knew. After conversations with Emma, and Archie - though not about those instances with Gold - he knew that what had happened to him in the hospital was that he'd frozen. He didn't fight, he didn't try to flee... and now he knew it wasn't a response he had any control over.

And that only made things worse. He'd already been stripped of any choice as far as Gold was concerned. His own mind taking away his choice to fight back, when every other time it chose to do so...

Did it, though?

He looked at the box with the unseen dreamcatchers, and wondered how many times he did have that reaction. There was that time in Neverland, too-

He heard the faint sound of Emma's steps in the hallway, and a realization hit him; he hadn't been able to move.

Because she had handcuffed him to the bed.

His breath picked up, and he was almost surprised to not feel any pain in his chest. He bent over, picked up the dreamcatcher and stepped out of the guest room, meeting Emma in the hallway.

Emma turned to look at him, then at the dreamcatcher, then back at him.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he saw her shrink back. His face contorted in fury as he threw the dreamcatcher at her. She was too surprised to try and catch it, so it fell on the floor in front of her.

"Hospital. After my car crash. While I was handcuffed to bed!" he almost shouted.

"What?" Emma said, looking down at the fallen dreamcatcher.

"He came to me, while I was at the hospital. And he raped me. And I couldn't move because I was handcuffed to bed. Because you had handcuffed me to bed."

She looked up at him. "Are you..." She paused, then closed her eyes for a few moments.

"I could have fought back. I could probably have fled and asked for help before he did anything. But no. You had to restrain me like I was a wild animal."

"That's not why I did it. I didn't even know he could find you, you were supposed to be hidden, I'd suspected he wanted to hurt you-"

"Well, he found me. And he hurt me."

She stared at him for a few moments, her eyes filling with tears. He shook his head at her. No. She didn't get to ask for sympathy now.

Emma sighed, looking down for a few seconds. "Look... I know you're trying to place the blame on someone... someone still here. You want to burst out on someone."

"Don't patronize me, Swan."

She looked up at him. "I'm not."

"Don't try to change the subject."

"The subject of what? That you're blaming me for what Gold did to you?"

"If you hadn't handcuffed me, it wouldn't have happened."

"Do you really think that? You think he wouldn't have found a way?"

"He took advantage of it!"

"That's what he did. Every time, and not just with you, he calculated the circumstances to turn the tables- Killian?"

He looked at nowhere, not listening to a word she'd said after "every time".

Every time.

Gold had mentioned a previous meeting.

One Killian couldn't remember now. His head dropped, and he thought he heard Emma say his name again, but he was only thinking of what he and Gold had said in the memory.

The last time Killian remembered meeting Rumpelstiltskin, it was at his ship, when he killed Milah and took his hand.

And then it was in Storybrooke.

There was another time... another memory lost to a dreamcatcher... and one Pan had known about.

Suddenly, his vision turned black and the world faded away, the feeling of his knees hitting the floor being the last he registered.

#I write thangs #Golden Hook #Lost Memories #Memories Revealed #content warning #nonconsensual #handcuffs #heart control #choking #slapped #blood #memory wipe #angst #some cs angst too

[rufeepeach]

37 — meeting in prison AU for Rumbelle. (Optional EF setting; it popped into my mind for some reason.)

A/N: I really enjoyed this one! Enjoy :D

He hears her hurled into her cell. A high cry, a whimper, and then the door slammed.

They never lock prisoners in with the Dark One. Never. Snow and Charming are too kind for that, at least. Or maybe they just think isolation will soften his mind.

Through the dark silence of the cell, the girl begins to cry.

He shifts, scuttles, tries to find a spot in the cell to sit where he cannot hear her. It is an impossible task; she stops abruptly when he sighs.

“Is anyone there?” her voice comes high and frightened.

“‘Tis just I, dearie,” he trills, his voice sharp and mocking but his heart not in it. “They’ve trapped you alone with the Dark One, fancy that!”

“Oh,” she sniffles, but she does not scream or renew her sobs. “Well at least I’m not alone, then.”

It’s a brave answer, if somewhat foolish. “Some would say you would be better off alone,” he says. He cannot hide the bitterness creeping into his voice. “Better that than trapped alone in the dark with me.”

“If you could hurt me you wouldn’t be here,” she replies, shrewdly. “You’d be out there, hurting them.”

That brings him up short. The sobbing waif has a mind, then. Perhaps a conversational companion wouldn’t be such a burden, at least until they move her elsewhere. Or until Regina gets up the nerve to cast the curse, whichever comes first.

“Y-your name is Rumpelstiltskin, isn’t it?” she says, after a long moment in silence. “I’ve read about you.”

“They write books about me now?” he muses, with a spiralling gesture nobody but him can see. “How quaint. And what do these books of yours say?”

“That you barter in firstborns and hunt children for their pelts,” the woman replies, with a note of irony in her voice. “Is that true?”

“I’ve… facilitated the occasional adoption,” he replies, idly. “The pelts would be a waste of time, however. Any tanner will tell you that adult flesh hardens into better leather, and you get more of it per kill.”

He hears her sharp intake of breath. He has shocked her.

“That one was a quip,” he advises, when she does not speak. “Not serious.”

Her gusty sigh is accompanied by a laugh of relief. “Oh,” she says. “Of course.” She pauses, then speaks again, “That’s why you’re in here, isn’t it?”

“Why? Because our illustrious rulers have no sense of humour? I quite agree.”

“No,” she chuckles again, and it’s a pleasant sound, a reprieve from dank, dripping water and his own mutterings. “Because you… ah… facilitated an adoption?”

“Oh yes,” he grins into the darkness, leaning his head back against the stone wall. “Dear Cinderella, who tried to break our bargain.”

“They say you tricked her,” she says. Rumpelstiltskin shrugged.

“She didn’t read the contract, so desperate was she to don that pretty dress and run off to the ball. The words 'you owe me your firstborn’ weren’t even in particularly small print. I cannot be held responsible for other people’s idiocy, can I?”

Silence. He sighs.

“I was very easily apprehended,” he says, betraying a secret he has no business speaking aloud. “And Cinderella’s baby will be born healthy.”

She doesn’t reply. They sit in silence for a long time.

“What was your crime, then?” he asks, when the stifling quiet has become tiresome.

“I started the ogre war,” the woman replies.

He should have known her immediately by her accent. Who else would they throw down here, with him?

“Princess Belle of the Frontlands,” he murmurs, toying with her title, “The girl who tortured an ogre child.”

“That’s what they say,” she says, and he can hear her gritting her teeth, her voice tight and bitter.

“Is it true?”

“No.”

“I suppose that’s what they all say,” he muses.

“I was trying to save the poor thing!” Belle cries. “I was… you don’t care.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, dearie,” he trills. “I am interested in what you have to say. Please continue.”

“I…” Belle trails off, and sighs in frustration. “My fiance wanted a war. He tortured the child to punish its tribe for its role in the war a century ago. He wanted to provoke them.”

“And why would he do that?”

“He had to prove himself,” Belle mutters, with a depth of disdain that impresses even Rumpelstiltskin. “He thought he could provoke the tribe into a fight, buy an easy victory, and prove to his father he was no longer the runt of the litter.”

“Well,” Rumpelstiltskin drawls, thinking of the wreckage and devastation of the following months, the villages razed and crops burned. “That was a miscalculation.”

Belle snorts. “That’s an understatement.”

“Then why are you here, and not he?” he queries. “Surely he would not blame his blushing bride!”

“I was no longer his bride,” Belle replies, simply. “I refused to marry him and threatened to expose him. I miscalculated too. I thought my father would believe me… but he needed men and arms more than he needed a daughter.”

“Ah,” Rumpelstiltskin sighs. It is a sad story, and one undeserving of an innocent woman. There is nothing so dangerous, he thinks, as a strong man with something to prove.

“Yeah,” Belle replies.

“Even the great Snow White will not hear your pleas for clemency?” Rumpelstiltskin enquires. “I, at least, am guilty of what they have accused me of.”

“I have told my story loudly and clearly everyb day,” Belle replies, stoutly. “And they continue to buy arms from Gaston’s father, and throw Gaston’s soldiers at their enemies. They are allies of Snow White and detractors of Queen Regina. They call me a monster, so why should they listen?”

“Why indeed?” Rumpelstiltskin murmurs.

He has no more to say. It seems neither does she.

After a while, he hears her whimper. Her stomach growls so loudly, he can hear it in the next cell.

“Belle?”

“Yes?”

“Can you keep a secret?” he asks. He can almost taste her confusion.

“Who would I tell?”

It’s a fair point. He waves a hand, and hears the clatter as an array of dishes laden with hot food appear before her. He can smell the meal wafting through, although the cavern walls prevent him from seeing it. He hears her cry out with delight.

“I have let them believe I am powerless down here,” he says. “I would prefer if that myth was maintained.”

“Mmm-hmm!” comes the response: he chuckles, as her mouth is clearly full of food.

“Thank you!” she gasps, as she pauses for breath. “I haven’t had a - thank you so much!”

“You’re very welcome, dearie,” he says. He wonders if he should demand payment, some price to be exacted when the world ends and they are both free.

But he keeps his mouth shut. He does have a karmic debt to pay, after all.

“What do I owe you?” she asks, when the sounds of her ravenous eating have calmed somewhat. “I don’t think I’ll have a firstborn any time soon.”

He considers the question. She has nothing to offer him, not really, and he didn’t ask for payment in advance. Sometimes, maybe, a meal can just be a meal. Kindness can just be kindness, even from a monster.

“Consider it a gift,” he says, lightly. “One monster to another.”

“Thank you,” she breathes. “I… I don’t think you’re a monster, Rumpelstiltskin. Any more than I am.”

“That’s a full belly talking,” he says, indulgently. “Sleep it off and you’ll regain your senses.”

“No. No, I’ve… I’ve heard more of your deeds than just Cinderella. I heard you helped Prince Charming to reawaken Snow White, is that true?”

“The fool was lost in the endless forest,” he says. “Someone had to fish him out.”

She snickers. “And now you provide free food to a starving prisoner. Not so monstrous after all.”

“You promised to keep secrets, dearie,” he sing-songs. “Don’t be putting it around.”

“Who would I tell?” she asks again. He waves a negligent hand and banishes the dishes. A moment later, she yawns, and he imagines she has gone to sleep.

If she awakens with a pillow beneath her head, its twin beneath his, then there’s no one to know but the rats.

—

It is eleven pm before Gold’s stomach rumbles.

He has forgotten that, in this world, he needs to eat. His body in Storybrooke is none so powerful as he had been in the Enchanted Forest, weak and human once more, and so his invulnerability to hunger and exhaustion have fled. It’s been a steep learning curve, these past twenty-four hours since the Saviour arrived, and he can’t say he’s enjoying his renewed frailty.

Perhaps when the curse breaks, and magic returns, his strength will return. For now, he continues to acclimatise.

The door to the shop swings open. “We’re closed, dearie!” he calls out. “Come back tomorrow!”

“Your light was on!” A voice comes through, low and feminine. A voice he recognises, although only the voice. His one-time cellmate survived the journey, then. He only knew her a few weeks, and most of that in silence as she slept or read the books he summoned to entertain her. He’d liked her, though. She was smart, and funny, and her company had lifted those long days.

He is curious, too curious. He never saw her face.

He comes through the curtain, to see an astonishingly beautiful woman standing in his shop, clutching a take-out bag from Granny’s.

When she sees him, there is no recognition in her eyes. But then, why would there be? His face and voice have changed immeasurably, and even had they not, she is still cursed. Mr Gold’s false memories fill in the blanks. Here she is Lacey French, the flighty daughter of an oafish florist. She is engaged to Gary Hunter, and works as a waitress at Granny’s Diner. She is unhappy, but then, everyone is unhappy here. Such is the nature of the Dark Curse.

“I told you,” he says, but gentler now, gentler than he intended it. “We’re closed.”

“I saw your light on,” she says, pressing on with false, brassy confidence. “I thought you might be hungry, since it’s so late.”

“Why would you presume I haven’t eaten at home?” he asks.

“I had a hunch,” she says, shrugging her slender shoulders. She really is remarkably pretty, he thinks. He’d assumed it impossible her face could match her mind and her heart, but here she is, proof that inner and outer beauty can coexist. He wonders if the outfit she wears, a sinfully short, tight black skirt and sheer blue blouse, would have been her preference had she her true mind about her. He assumes not, but then, how would he know?

“Why?” he presses. Of course she does not know. Some small, instinctive part of her remembers that once upon a time he fed her, and that part is reaching to repay the debt. Lacey doesn’t know, but somewhere deep down Belle does.

“Was I right?” she challenges back. This new girl has all of Belle’s stubbornness, but none of her ability to pause for thought. His stomach growls again, betraying him.

She laughs, and hands him the bag. “Bottom one has extra pickle,” she says. “The usual.”

“Indeed,” he murmurs, remembering now his visits to Granny’s, curse memories sliding neatly into place. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t let it get around.”

She winks, and settles herself in. They eat in silence.

“What do I owe you?” he asks, when they’re finished. Lacey shrugs.

“’S on the house,” she says, swallowing her final mouthful. “A burger’s just a burger, right?”

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #rumpelstiltskin #belle french #belle gold #ouat #once upon a time #fanfiction #fanfic #jackabelle73

[angstbotfic]

Fic: Her One True Love’s a Sailing Ship Ch 40

Read at AO3

Emma was feeling mildly triumphant that naming Regina adviser had gone so well this morning. She was finally getting a feel for all of the politics and intrigue of being queen. In combination with Regina being back and intending to stay, she was in such a good mood that she almost wanted to skip her way down the corridor.

If it had been any other hallway she might have. But this one led to her mother’s prison, and it was time to visit. She had come by regularly since she had taken the throne. In part, it was because family ties didn’t go away just because your mother was a murderous, paranoid despot. Plus, she did feel bad at having to imprison anyone, even a murderous, paranoid despot. But also, her mother hadn’t stopped being murderous or paranoid just because she was no longer on the throne, and that meant that it was a good idea to keep an eye on her.

She nodded to the guards outside the doors, and they moved quickly to let her in. She strode in purposefully, not even checking that they would close the doors behind her, and had just taken breath to issue her standard, studiously polite greeting when she realized that her parents weren’t alone and stopped in her tracks.

It was the gamekeeper, Robin, who was certainly free to come and go in most parts of the palace without suspicion. But not here. Her parents weren't allowed visitors without her approval.

“How did you get in here?” she demanded. Her mind worked furiously. Had the guards let him in? Were they on her mother’s side? Was this a trap?

Her mother and Robin looked at her stone-faced, and her father refused to meet her eyes. She chewed the inside of her cheek for a second, then realized she had no choice.

“Guards!” Either they would back her up or the whole thing would come crashing down.

They rushed in immediately. “Yes, Your Majesty, what is it?”

“How did this man get in here?”

The guard blinked, startled. “He had a letter giving him permission.”

“Only I can give him permission!”

“But- but- it was- it was signed-” the man sputtered.

“A fake,” Emma realized. She glared at Robin. “Hand it over.” At his defiant look, she added, “Or they’ll take it from you.”

Reluctantly, the man dug out the parchment and held it out. Taking it, Emma sighed in frustration. It wasn’t even a good fake. But she would deal with the lax security later.

“Why?” she demanded.

“That witch killed my wife!”

Emma blinked. “What?”

“That woman you elevated to be your adviser today. Regina. The Evil Queen.” He was sneering now.

“She’s not evil,” Emma said reflexively, if pathetically, still trying to make sense of what she’d just heard.

“Yes she is, Emma,” Snow said, with her characteristic false earnestness. “You don’t know her like I do. Robin told us all about it, and it’s so clear that she has bewitched you.”

Emma felt suddenly very tired. “No, mom, she hasn’t.”

“She has! I don’t know how,” she added, almost to herself. “The deal I made with Rumpelstiltskin was to prevent her from using magic on anyone from our kingdom, but-”

“Oh right, your deal. Let’s talk about your deal,” Emma said with a sneer, the rage that she had kept suppressed for weeks now bubbling to the surface.

Snow’s eyes widened as she realized she’d miscalculated, but she mustered a feeble “What about it?”

Emma had just enough presence of mind to recognize that she should really not have this conversation in front of an audience. She turned to the guards. “We will have a conversation about security later, but for now you can go. And one of you take him to the dungeon.” Then she turned to Robin. “You’ll have plenty of time to think about your choices while I decide what to do with you.”

“That’s not fair!” he exclaimed. “Regina is a criminal!”

“Maybe,” Emma said levelly. “But so is my mother, and now so are you.” She jerked her head at the guards and they obeyed immediately, pulling him from the room.

When the door closed behind them she turned back to see her father looking at her sadly. He had known about what happened to her son. She had been thinking about it as her mother’s monstrous crime, but he had known, and no matter how bad he felt about it now he hadn’t protected her when it mattered.

“I know what you did,” Emma gritted out to no one in particular.

“I did what I had to do to keep my kingdom safe,” Snow said, throwing her shoulders back the way she always had when she’d been feeling her authority. “You would have done the same.”

“I would absolutely never have sold a child to a monster,” Emma hissed, pacing now in her frustration. How was this even a conversation she had to have with another human being? Let alone another parent?

“Magic always comes with a price.”

She exploded. “The price was too high!”

Silence fell for a long moment.

Emma took deep breaths to get herself back under control. Finally, she said stiffly, “It doesn’t matter anymore. I rescued my son and stopped you from ever doing the same to anyone else’s.”

“Oh that’s wonderful!” and there Snow was, falsely sweet again. “But how-”

“Regina,” she said flatly. “Regina is how. She rescued me from you and then we rescued my son.”

“You didn’t need rescuing from me.” Snow sounded reproachful.

“The hell I didn’t. You were going to sell me to the highest bidder.” Emma couldn’t tell anymore if her mother was genuinely hurt at the thought of her own daughter feeling trapped by her. Probably she wasn’t. Maybe nothing about them had never been genuine. But even if she did feel hurt, that didn’t make it any less true.

“It’s just politics, Emma.” When Emma just scoffed, she went on. “Some day you’ll have to make a hard decision and you’ll understand.”

“I have had to imprison my own mother to save a kingdom from her. I understand plenty. But it’s clear you never will.” She shook her head. “We’re done here.” As she marched out of the room, she realized she had just seamlessly exerted her authority, the very thing she’d been struggling with. She wondered now if that was a gain or a loss.

#swan queen #sq ff #swanqueen fanfic #swan queen fan fiction #work: pirate regina

[onceandfuturekiki]

Sleeping Hook Fic: From Long Sleep (updated)

I wrote this fic a long, long time ago. All the way back during season 2. Overall it was one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, but I knew that it needed some more work, and I always told myself that one day I’d dig back into it. Finally, five years later, I did.

This was originally written after the episode where Hook took Aurora’s heart, before the following episodes (where he caught it before it went into the portal and sent Mulan back with it, where Mulan and Aurora stayed to look for Philip and Snow, Emma, Hook, and Cora went to Storybrook), so keep that in mind while reading. Now I guess it could be considered a sort of AU.

I hope anyone reading it for the first time likes it, and I hope people who read it the first time around like the work I did to fix it up and go a little deeper into the characters and their relationship.

Storybrooke was bloody awful. If Killian had known how awful it was, he might have reconsidered his plan for revenge.

Maybe.

And worst of all, there was no way back now.

Well... that wasn't quite true. There was no way back for him. There were people in town with considerable power who could reopen the portal, as dangerous as it was. But none of those people were inclined to help him.

Nobody in Storybrook was.

Considering how feared and disliked Rumpelstiltskin seemed to be by everybody, Killian had figured he'd receive a bit more goodwill for his plans to end the Dark One once and for all. But his failed attempt bought him no friends. While he might not have been the most popular and beloved person in town, the presence of Belle seemed to soften both Rumplestiltskin and the town's opinion of him, which meant that the pirate who tried to kill him and failed in a spectacularly pathetic action wasn't going to be anyone's favorite person. And his other actions canceled out any remaining positive feelings the people of the town might have had for him.

One action in particular seemed to earn him a fair amount of dirty looks. Stealing the princess's heart. Once that little piece of information came to light, everyone started looking at him with disgust and disdain. Everyone but the princess.

She didn't look at him at all.

Aurora had hoped that Storybrooke would awaken some kind of wonder in her. Snow had told her stories around the campfire, of horseless carriages and flameless lamps and all the information anyone could need at one's fingertips at all times. It all sounded like something out of a fantastical tale, containing things beyond ever her wildest imaginings. And she'd hoped that the sight of it would move something in her.

She was unsurprised that it didn't. Her heart was missing. She figured it was pretty hard to feel much of anyhting without it.

Or at least that's what she thought. She'd felt so disconnected, so empty. Her grief over losing Philip had faded to a dull ache in the back of her mind, and soon it was just as numb as the rest of her. When she found out what Captain Hook had done to her, how he'd taken her heart while she slept, she figured that explained it, that the feeling of complete and absolute nothing was because there truly was nothing inside of her.

Until she heard Snow and Emma whispering to each other in their kitchen.

"I don't understand. Regina had Graham's heart and he was still able to feel," Emma had argued, her words hushed but urgent.

"But he thought he couldn't, remember?" he mother shot back.

"But that was just in his head. He really could. I know he could."

"Sometimes these things are more psychological than physical. I can only imagine that it's quite the burden, knowing that your heart is gone. Plus she was under that sleeping curse for so long, and then she lost her true love. The poor thing has been through so much. It's no surprise that she just shut down."

So, Aurora thought, the voice in her head just as flat and monotone as it was when spoken out loud. It's not my body that's broken. It's my brain.

She wasn't sure there was much of a difference.

Ruby finally took pity on him.

"You lost someone," she said to him one afternoon, taking a seat next to him on a bench in the middle of town. It was his new favorite pasttime - his only pasttime, really - finding a place to sit and just drinking himself into oblivion. Nobody ever talked to him, so the presence of Ruby next to him, the sound of her voice directed at him, was more than a bit startling.

"How do you figure?" he shot back with considerably less charm than he would have used in the past.

"I know the look. It's one I'm pretty familiar with."

He hadn't responded, but as he looked over at her he realized he probably didn't need to. The sneer he tried to direct at her didn't do much of anything by way of intimidating or scaring her away. She convinced Granny to let him rent a room, in exchange for him doing whatever odd jobs the needed to be done. The older woman still wasn't all that pleasant toward him, but at least it was better than her previous decree that she'd never let a monster like him under her roof.

So the once fearsome Captain Hook spent his days cleaning bathrooms and changing light bulbs while the townsfolk looked at him not with fear and awe, but disdain. He finally learned that to protect what little pride he had, he needed to just ignored them all together.

That was when the princess started watching him.

Aurora was surprised that he was still in Storybrooke. She knew he couldn't go back to the Enchanted Forest, not without the help of several people whose bad sides he had managed to get on. But the curse that had kept the town isolated had lifted when Emma returned from the Enchanted Forest. He could have gone anywhere. Stolen a boat and just sailed away. It would have been easy.

And yet, he stayed.

She'd ignored him completely for a long time, unable to even muster hatred for him, and unable to even be upset by the fact that she couldn't hate him. And she didn't want to give the captain the satisfaction of seeing what he'd done to her.

But the longer he stuck around, the more interested she became in what he was doing. Working for Granny, staying above the diner. It was so strange, seeing him doing such menial labor. He had manipulated her, violated her trust and her body, and handed her heart over to monster. It was one of the worst things anyone had ever done to her, and here he was. The perpetrator of this horrible thing that had been done to her was just... cleaning toilets and sweeping floors. It was like her mind couldn't reconcile it, and she found herself filled with the need to watch him, to see him live. She was almost fascinated.

It wasn't quite a feeling, but it was close.

He felt her eyes on him all the time.

It had taken Killian two weeks to realize that Aurora was spending hours of every single day just sitting in a booth at Granny's. Not eating, not talking to anyone. Just sitting. It had taken another day for him to realize that she was watching him.

He was embarrassed by how much his observational skills had slipped.

He wasn't the cocky, charming Captain Hook that Aurora remembered, the man who had flirted and snarked while he was being held as a prisoner as though he didn't have a care in the world. The man who had used such smooth, calculated words to get her to gain and exploit her trust. It wasn't that he was broken, exactly. It was more that he was just... defeated.

She figured that made sense, though. Defeat at the hands of Rumpelstiltskin was probably a self-esteem killer

"Eat with me."

The voice startled him. It had been so long since he'd actually heard it.

Killian assumed she was talking to someone else, but when he turned around, Aurora was looking right at him.

It had been so long since he'd looked at her. If he was being honest, he'd have to admit that he had been trying very hard not to look at her. If he didn't look at her, he could pretend that the guilt over what he'd done to her wasn't eating away at him, that what he felt toward her was the same vague disinterest he felt toward most people these days. So when he looked at her now, really looked at her, their eyes meeting as he turned around, he was shocked by how empty she looked. There was nothing in here eyes. No feeling. No hatred or anger or disappointment. Her face was just a blank slate of nothing.

Had they been back in the Enchanted Forest he would have had a clever retort, some cutting remark to distance himself from the whole situation. Maybe even a cruel comment about her missing heart or her complete lack of emotion. But here in Storybrook, he just looked at her, dumbfounded, and then sat in the seat across from her.

She stared.

Sometimes they ate, sometimes they simply sat there staring at each other, sometimes they didn't look at each other at all.

After two weeks, Aurora wasn't sure why she invited Hook to sit with her every day. They didn't talk. No words were ever exchanged between them other than her quiet command of "sit" or "eat with me" every single day. He didn't even say anything when he obeyed, just sitting down across from her, his mouth shut and his posture guarded. The urge to talk to him, to ask him why he had done it, to try to make him feel bad or get him to apologize was never there at all. They just sat, silently, until Granny had decided he'd taken a long enough break and ordered him to get back to work.

But she was surprised by how comfortable she was in his presence. It was something she couldn't explain, how at ease she had come to feel around him. The first few days had, admittedly, been awkward, but after that being around him was just easy. It was one of the few things in her life that actually felt that way. Everything else, even just existing from day to day felt so difficult, so the surprising peace she felt when she sat with Killian, even as it was tinged with a bit of curiosity, was something she almost treasured. Aurora had no idea exactly why she felt so at ease around him, but she knew she didn't want to let it go.

Finally, Killian couldn't take it anymore.

"Are you just trying to torture me into insanity with your silence? Is that your plan for revenge?"

A look that was almost surprised crossed Aurora's face. "No."

"So, what, are you just trying to get up the nerve to ask me why I did it? If it was worth it? You want me to admit that I feel guilty, that I feel something over what I did to you? If that's the case, you're going to be disappointed." He could hear his words becoming more frantic, but he couldn't control it. He tried to push it down, confused as to where it was all coming from, how the itch that had existed in the back of his mind since the first time she'd asked him to sit with her was exploding inside of him.

"No."

"What is this then?"

She looked at her plate, and he thought he saw her brow furrowing, so slightly that he wondered if he was imagining it.

"I don't know."

It wasn't the most satisfying answer, but it was better than "I hate you".

The outburst had made her wonder, and she found herself preoccupied with thoughts about the strange relationship they had developed, and why she was so invested in that relationship, in maintaining whatever it was between them, even if it was just silent lunches.

She'd watched him, both during their time together and while he was working. He certainly was different than he'd been before they'd all come to Storybrook. The Captain Hook she'd known was full of anger and revenge. He had a purpose, however horrible at was, and he was driven. Now, though, he seemed to have no purpose. Instead of setting off for something else, something better, he stayed in a town where everyone hated him, where so many people he had wronged lived, doing menial labor in exchange for the bare necessities of a bed and food. It was something she couldn't wrap her head around. She just knew she was drawn to it, that it, and him, fascinated her.

But as for what that all meant, and how it could answer his questions... she really didn't know.

It made him uncomfortable, the emotional nothingness with which Aurora had confronted him. He knew how his words had sounded, how they'd felt as they left his mouth, and the fact that she'd met them with the same blankness she seemed to have in reaction to everything these days had left him feeling jittery. Angry, even.

He thought about ignoring her, brushing off her commands that he sit with her. Just walking away from the situation entirely. But the thought of it, of not sitting with her every day... it made his heart ache.

Killian found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he had never come to Storybrook.

A week later, she though she had it figured out.

"We're alike."

If she could feel anything, she would have been amused by the way he choked on his water, his eyes bulging as he looked up at her from his plate.

"Excuse me?" Killian coughed out.

"You and me. We're alike."

"How do you figure?"

"You've been hanging around Storybrooke for months now with no purpose. You could take off at any time and you don't. You haven't tried to take revenge a second time. You haven't headed for the sea. You've just stayed here and performed menial labor. You don't even talk to anybody. Do you really think I believe that you feel anything anymore?"

He arched an eyebrow, clearly not liking the way the accusation tasted. "But I still have my heart."

Aurora shrugged. "Apparently it's not the lack of heart that's left me without feeling."

His slowed chewing was the only indication that her words had any effect on him at all.

He couldn't get their conversation out of his head.

If it wasn't Aurora's lack of a heart that had turned her into a shell of a person, then he didn't need to feel guilty.

It was hard for him to admit that he felt guilty about stealing the girl's heart at all, because he had, after all, gotten what he wanted for it. Hadn't he?

But he did. She had been different when he'd rejoined the girls, eyes dead and face empty in a way that he was surprised to find disturbed him deeply. He had never realized how much fire had really been inside of her until it was gone.

Knowing that it wasn't the lack of the heart that had killed her soul should have alleviated that feeling, though. If he wasn't responsible, he shouldn't feel guilty.

But he did. It was intense, all consuming even. He'd been trying to push it away, to act like it wasn't there, but that had only seemed to make it worse. Ignoring it hadn't stopped the overwhelming guilt that had taken up residence in his stomach, the way it clawed at his throat. It had been so long since he'd really felt anything like it, but now that he was being honest with himself, he knew exactly what that feeling was.

That wasn't the only thing he felt. Now that he'd let the flood gates open it was all rushing in. How useless he felt, how lost he was. He'd spent over 300 years with one goal in mind, and now he'd failed. It was humiliating, and it left him wondering what if there was any point to his existence now, if there was really any reason for him to be here. Or anywhere.

And then there was the princess, all the other confusing emotions beyond that overwhleming, crushing guilt. Their daily meetings had come to mean so much to him, had become the one thing he had to cling to. She was one of the very few people in town who didn't openly despise him, and the only one who truly seemed to want him around. That knowledge made even that massive guilt bearable when they were together.

It had been a long time since a woman had inspired much genuine feeling in him. Hell, it had been a long time since anyone other than Rumplestiltskin had inspire much genuine feeling in him of any kind. The guilt he had been feeling since he'd lost Aurora's heart had been bad enough. Now he was filled with so much more, so much confusing emotion in regards to that woman that he couldn't figure out. And to make it all so much was worse was the fact that his intense emotion was being met by pretty much nothing on her end.

Well, I guess you're wrong, Princess. I do feel something.

Aurora wasn't sure when it happened, but when she thought of Killian, there was… something. She wasn't sure what it was. When she thought of everyone else she knew in Storybrook, the only thing she felt was a spark of recognition. Her brain telling her yes, you know this person. But when she thought of him, something else sparked, beyond just the ease she felt when she was with him, or the curiosity she felt when she watched him.

She didn't know what it was, but she wanted to find out.

Killian thought he couldn't have been more surprised to find Aurora at his door late one night.

Until she kissed him.

To complete the surprise, he kissed her back.

The emotions exploded inside of him, and he didn't try to push them down.

As she laid on her back next to Killian, Aurora tried to pinpoint a feeling beyond the pleasant numbness of her body.

After several long, silent moments, Killian, stretched out on his back beside her, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, asked, "What was that all about?"

Her hand moved from where it was resting on the pillow next to her head, pressing into her chest where her heart should have been pounding, instead feeling the complete nothing that now occupied that space, and tried to separate that sensation of nothingness from whatever emotions might be swimming inside her pleasure-clouded body. "I'm not sure yet."

"How old are you really?"

The sound of Aurora's voice startled Killian. "I'm sorry?"

"I know you spent time in Neverland. So how old are you really?"

It was such a simple question that it took him off guard. After weeks and weeks of loaded silences, the simple "get-to-know-you" talk made him feel oddly uncomfortable.

"I don't remember, actually," he responded after a moment.

Silence fell between them once again for a long time. He listened to her breathing, letting his eyelids drift closed as he focused on the calming sensation of her presence. It lulled him into a dreamy state somewhere between waking and sleep, so he was surprised when she turned over onto her side to face him. "You lost the person you loved," she whispered.

"Yes…" Killian replied, not sure where she was going.

"You lost the person you loved, spent decades waiting to get your revenge, and you failed."

"What's your point, Princess?" he bit out, not happy about being reminded of how badly Rumplestiltskin had beaten him.

"Everything you planned fell apart. You lost everything but you still had no choice by to keep going." There was something new to her voice. Not the emotionless tone he'd grown used to, but something like surprise, blooming into something that might have even been awe the more she talked.

"And?"

"That's how we're alike."

He looked over at her then, studying her face. Despite the way her voice sounded, her face, though shadowed, still seemed to hold that familiar blankness, but in the dark, the blankness looked almost like sadness. He wanted to touch her, to roll over and pull her into his arms, holding her close. Instead, he turned away from her.

"So this was just an experiment, right? To see if you felt anything?"

Silence.

"Well? Did you?"

"I don't know yet."

He didn't tell her what he felt.

The words were pushing at him, wanting to get out. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong about him, that he did feel, that he felt so much, and that so much of that was for her. He wanted to tell her that he didn't know what it meant and that he didn't know what to do, but that those feelings had been the only thing he'd had to hold on to since he arrived in Storybrook.

Instead he stayed silent, turning over onto his side so that his back was to her, listening to her breathing as she slipped into slumber.

When Aurora woke up, he was gone.

She felt something.

Killian detested poetry, but he couldn't help but see the poetry in this.

He stole her heart, so she took his in turn.

The least he could do now was get hers back.

She spent a week eating lunch alone at Granny's before Belle seemingly took pity on her, sliding into the chair at the table with a sad smile that made Aurora's throat feel tight.

"He was in the pawn shop early one morning last week talking to Rumpelstiltskin. They made a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

The pity in Belle's eyes was almost too much to take. "To go back."

The tightness in her throat spread through her chest, and she had to take a quick, sharp breath against the sudden ache that was seeping through her.

So he had made a deal with Rumplestiltskin and gone back to the Enchanted Forest to get away from her.

She wished she felt nothing.

It seemed like such a simple deal, a favor in return for passage back to their old world. But Killian knew he was making a bargain with the devil.

It was worth it, as far as he was concerned.

As was the trip across the ravaged, dangerous land.

He knew that retreiving her heart, if he even managed to do that, wouldn't absolve him. But this wasn't about him. It wasn't about trying to assuage his guilt so he wouldn't have to feel it anymore.

This was all about her. What he could do for her.

He knew that having her heart back wouldn't fix her.

But he hoped the gesture would at least help.

If she hadn't been through all that she had, the desperate pounding on her door at two in the morning would have frightened her.

A wild-eyed Killian Jones standing at her door, satchel in hand, was the last thing she'd  expected to see. And the feeling that flared up inside of her, the warmth that was suddenly bursting through her chest in the spot where he heart should have been at the sight of him, his clothes dirty and torn, scraped and bruises littering the skin she could see, was so unexpected that she had to grip the edge of the door so hard her fingers went numb in order to stay upright.

He held the satchel out to her. "I thought you might be wanting this back."

She opened the bag with trembling fingers, wanting to see what she had been missing for so long, unable to truly believe she had it back, despite being able to hear the strong heartbeat.

When she finally saw it, her heart, glowing in the bag, the heartbeat still strong, her eyes filled with tears. She looked up at Killian, trying to make her mouth form some kind of words of thanks, only to find that his eyes were also glassy as he watched her, his hand reaching out to wipe a tear away from the corner of her eye.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Aurora smiled.

She was beautiful.

Of course, Killian had always thought her to be beautiful. As far as he was concerned that was just an objective fact. But before it was a sad, broken beauty, the blank emptiness making her overall loveliness somewhat tragic.

Now, as they laid in bad watching each other, his hand trailing up and down her spine, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. More beautiful than the sea, more beautiful than the Jolly Roger. It made an overwhelming joy spread through his body, and he made no attempt to push it away. His fingers trailed up her back, down her arm, over her collar bone, and finally to her chest, pressing against her skin so he could feel her heart beating, strong and steady, beneath his palm.

A small, quiet smile graced her face.

He had caused that.

Her smile grew as she brought her hand to his face and he turned his head, pressing a kiss to her palm.

"I'm finally awake," she said, her smile spreading over her face.

THE END

#sleeping hook #my fics

[nickireadstfc]

The King's Men, Chapter 1 – Hello Foxhole, My Old Friend

In which the Foxes are introduced to Meat Grinder Neil, Nicky misses an opportunity for a memeworthy Christmas gift, we find out some things about Jean, and Andrew and Neil chill on a rooftop or whatever.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The King's Men.

Hello hello hello, we’re back! Welcome to the one, the only, the glorious, all-surpassing, awe-inspiring, shade-throwing, capslock-inducing and feels-wrecking finale to this hell of a ride called All For The Game - welcome to The King's Men.

Let’s start at the very front: A cover, as always, says more than a thousand words, and this cover has one clear message it shouts in the faces of those familiar with the series, clear as day and ringing like a bell: IT'S SHOWDOWN TIME, FUCKERS.

Two Exy racquets, one orange, one black, crossed, clashing. The title, half-orange, half-black. Nora Sakavic' name at the bottom, also half-orange, half-black, menacingly laughing in my face like Rumpelstiltskin on crack, glee-drunk on my surely following future tears.

Whee-hee. Let’s fucking go.

(Also, the chapters are getting much longer by this book, so y'all will have to deal with these posts being longer as well. Soz.)

          Even after a semester at Palmetto State University and a couple weeks practicing on the largest Exy stadium in the United States, Neil was still struck breathless by the Foxhole Court.

Neil, my boy, you never disappoint. Even through hardship, bruises and cuts, one thing can always be relied on: Your gigantic boner for Exy. Get a room, you two.

          “It’s time to go,” Wymack said.

          That was enough to make Neil get up, although his battered body protested.

Oh yeah, quick reminder for anyone who might have forgotten (although – why the fuck would you ever): Neil is currently walking minced meat with Trauma Jetlag™, a literal prison tattoo, and #allnatural #naturaleyes #naturalhair #nomakeup #nofilter.

Because of that, he’s obviously not that keen on running into his squad at the moment. Can’t exactly blame the dude.

If I looked like Freddy Krueger with a facial tramp stamp, I wouldn’t go around instagramming selfies either.

Especially when I willingly ran into the arms of the dude who is nationally known for giving out facial tramp stamps.

          Wymack had even locked the office in his short absence. Neil had been in there enough times to know Wymack didn’t keep anything particularly valuable on his shelves. The only thing of any import was Neil’s duffel. (…) On Neil’s first day in South Carolina he had asked Wymack to protect his things, and seven months later Wymack was still keeping that promise. It was almost enough to make Neil forget all about Riko.

Guys, this just in: Wymack is still the best damn person alive. #dicksoutforwymack

The best damn person alive also already warned the Foxes Neil looked like a human punching bag in order to prevent them from having an actual heart attack when they see him. Yay, have fun explaining yourself to them, hombre.

          Matt moved soundlessly for a few moments before he finally managed to choked, “Jesus Christ, Neil.”

          “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Neil said.

This just in: Neil is Veronica from Heathers, minus the 80’s hair-do.

In order to fulfill his self-appointed role as Neil’s mother hen, Matt then swiftly goes and punches newly-arrived Kevin in the fucking face – which is generally a sentiment I can support, although it really is not his fault this time.

          Matt stared at him for an endless minute, then said, “I want to break [Riko’s] face in six places. If he ever comes within a thousand yards of you again –“

Same, Matt. Fucking SAME.

Matt being protective of Neil will never not give me a healthy dose of The Feels™.

One confrontation down, four to go: What do Aaron, Nicky and Kevin have to say to Mr Meat Grinder?

          Unsurprisingly, Aaron was the safest one to look at. (…) Neil gave him a moment to see if he’d ask, but all Aaron did was shrug.

Glad to see the usual amounts of sympathy and care coming from one half of the Minyard Murder Twins.

Although I’m doubting the other half will muster up any more affection.

          Nicky, on the other hand looked absolutely crushed as he took in Neil’s wrecked appearance. He reached out as soon as Neil was close enough and wrapped his hand around the back of Neil’s neck, (…) carefully pulling Neil up against him.

Also, glad to see the usual freaking normal reaction coming from Nicky, aka some goddamn comforting hugs for once in this cold, cold monster squad.

Nicky hugs are the best hugs.

          At least Kevin had the decency to speak in French. “Tell me the master didn’t approve this.”

Every time Kevin still calls Tetsuji “the master”, a little tiny thing inside my heart dies.

10/10 would protect my tiny big ass traumatized son.

          “Riko said he’d hurt us if I change it back. All I can do is duck my head and hope for the best.” (…)

          “How long do you think he’ll let you hide before he forces you to show [the tattoo] off? The press will be all over this (…). He’s trying to get you found.”

Well, duh.

I’m already looking forward to Neil regaining his confidence, and then I’m looking forward to him sassing the absolute everloving shit out of whoever tries to come for him for his appearance and tattoo.

          “He wouldn’t waste his time unless he thinks we really are going to be a problem for his team That means something, doesn’t it? (…) Kevin, you do what you do best and focus on Exy. Take us where he doesn’t want us to go.”

Hell effin yes.

We’re gonna fucking make it to finals, and we’re gonna fucking shoot that dumb Exy ball so hard around those Raven Fuckers’ heads that we shoot the asshole smirk right off Riko’s ugly face.

Yas.

          Nicky looked between them as if making sure they were done, then scooped his gift bags up again and held one out to Neil.

          “Belated Christmas present,” he said, a little sadly.

NICKY LET ME LOVE YOU.

Trust this dude to always bring the sunshine around at the end of the day.

          “I’ve got Andrew’s with me, too. Actually, I got you two the same thing because you are like the most impossible people in the world to buy for.”

Knives, hair dye, black T-Shirts, cigarettes, a coupon for an anger management course,… Andreil gift-shopping ain’t that hard, homie.

But scratch all that - Nicky got them each a winter coat!

This would have been even better if Nicky hadn’t gotten the same coat for each of them, but literally the same coat – because now all I can imagine is Neil and Andrew stuck in one coat like a Get Along Shirt.

If someone makes this into fanart, I will pay you in Ben & Jerry’s. I’m being dead serious.

Four reunions done and the most important one still to go – one road trip to Columbia later:

        “If you’ll sign in, I’ll ring Dr. Slosky and let him know you’re here.”

        (...) Neil was the only one who hesitated when his pen touched the paper. Riko hadn’t let him be “Neil” at Evermore. Every time Neil answered to it on the court, Riko beat him for it. (…) Riko wanted him to know how much trouble he’d caused the Moriyamas with all of his alibis.

Jesus fuck. Is there literally anything he didn’t get beat for at the Batcave of Extra?

Actually, don’t answer that.

Also, hate to be that person again but – shouldn’t he have gotten to that bit of trauma way earlier? Wymack and the Foxes called him Neil so many times already, why is this only kicking in now?

I legit don’t have an explanation and I think it may just be a continuity error. If anyone does have a good explanation, shoot me an ask.

They sit down to wait for Andrew and to everyone’s surprise (including mine), Kevin uses the wait to do something so incredibly out of character my figurative wig was instantly snatched:

Being a compassionate person.

        “I know what he’s like,” Kevin said. Neil looked at him, but Kevin was studying his hands. “Riko. If you want to talk.”

Fucking what.

        It was the most awkward and uncomfortable thing Kevin had ever said to him. Kevin was known for his talent, not his sensitivity. (…) That he tried at all was so unexpected Neil felt it like a balm to every bruised inch of his skin.

Oh my GOD.

HE’S TRYING, he’s trying to make Neil feel better, he just wants to help and to comfort him I’m gonna light myself the fuck on fire I can’t handle this.

These Kevin/Neil feels are ambushing me out of nowhere. I was almost over this dynamic, god damnit. What the fuck.

        “[Jean’s] father owed the Moriyamas a great deal. The master paid those debts in exchange for Jean’s presence on our court. He was property, nothing more. You are the same in their eyes. (…) I know it means he did not hold back.”

Wait – does this mean Jean initially got the same treatment that Neil just had to suffer through?

WELL, FUCK.

Jean Valjean has instantly risen in the ranks of my faves.

SWEET FRENCH SUMMER CHILD. YOU DID NOT DESERVE THIS WHAT THE FUCK.

No wonder he’s a (seemingly) heartless bitch now. Kill or be killed, I guess.

        “Were you ever going to tell [Coach that he’s your father]?”

        “I was going to when he signed me,” Kevin said. “I couldn’t. (…) [Tetsuji] has never raised a hand or voice against Coach before because Coach has never been a real threat to him. I didn’t know if a confession would change things. I couldn’t risk it.”

Kevin :’( protecting and caring for Wymack :’(( just like Wymack protected and cared for him :’((((((

Before I can get too emotional over this, though, the happy Kevin/Neil Honest Conversation™ is cut short by the arrival of everyone’s favourite murder maniac, minus the meds.

(Back at it again with the alliterations, y’all.)

        If Neil hadn’t known Andrew spent the last year and a half fiercely protective and territorial of Kevin, he’d think they were strangers. Andrew treated Kevin to a bored inspection, then flicked his fingers in dismissal.

Apparently, Andrew is not that different off his meds but continues to be a Stony Sinnamon Roll, Too Indifferent To This World, Too Dead Inside™. Well, bummer.

I don't know what I expected, since we did meet him sober before, but I think I thought when he'd be off his meds permanently he'd be... More? I guess? More of a person, I mean. Less walking void, and all that jazz.

Maybe he'll come around. Give the sinnamon roll some time.

Neil and the squad, finally complete again, drive back to campus, and as they get out we get a glimpse of something amazing we'll have more of later this chapter:

It's prime fucking Andreil time.

        [Neil] straightened and turned to find out Andrew had shifted closer. There was nowhere for Neil to stand except up against Andrew, but somehow Neil didn't mind. They'd been apart for seven weeks but Neil keenly remembered why he'd stayed. He remembered is unyielding, unquestioning weight that could hold him and all of his problems without breaking a sweat. For the first time in months he could finally breathe again. It was such a relief it was frightening; Neil hadn't meant to lean on Andrew so much.

ALL-FUCKING-RIGHT.

Alright alright alright. So NOT ONLY is this gay as shit as it is, and Neil is (whether he realises it or not) super fucking in love by this point, but - "Andrew had shifted closer", bitch, what.

Don't you dare tell me that boy isn't fucking infatuated with our favourite runaway drama queen.

In today's issue of The PSU Andreil Times: Heart-Eyed Little Shit Thinks He's Being Sneaky, Fails Miserably. More news on page 19.

When Neil is done waxing poetic about Andrew's ~strength~ and his ~*~unyiedling body~*~, he goes back to his dorm for part 2 of The Matt Confrontation:

        „Neil? We're here when you want to talk about it.“

        „I know.“

Is that... Neil... close to accepting actual help from outside...

Amazing.

        He knew just from looking at Matt that Matt would accept any truth Neil gave him right now, no matter how cruel or unbelievable. He'd done the right thing by going to Evermore; he was making the right choice in standing his ground here with the Foxes. (…) If [what happened] was the only way to keep his teammates safe from Riko's cruelty, it was an easy price to pay.

Okay ya brb while I drown myself in my own fucking tears.

FOX FAMILY. STOP RUINING MY FEELINGS. I'm supposed to be cool and witty here but I can't even do that because I'm just too emotional over this.

And the fun doesn't stop here, oh no.

Are you guys ready?

I know there are some people fidgeting excitedly in their seats right now because they know what's about to come up – the grand finale to a wonderful third-book-kick-off chapter:

The goddamn rooftop thing.

        Andrew turned to face him. „I'll take an explanation now.“

        „You couldn't ask for answers inside where it's warm?“ Neil asked.

Glad to see that even when faced with his (by now Confirmed™) crush, Neil still doesn't lose his sass.

But of course, Neil is not one to keep secrets from his murder boyfriend, and so he tells him of the Christmas Fuckery – which Andrew is decidedly not fucking liking, because of course Neil left Kevin's side and therefore kind of broke their deal.

Whoops.

        „Why did you go?“

        Neil didn't know if he could say it. Thinking about it was almost too much. Andrew was waiting, though, so Neil choked back his nausea. „Riko said if I didn't, Dr. Proust would-“

        Andrew clapped a hand over his mouth, smothering the rest of his words. (…) „Do not make the mistake of thinking I need your protection.“

Okay, but don't you, though?

Neil says it himself later on, and he's entirely correct: Andrew watches everyone's backs, who's gonna watch his?

He may be an expert in back-watching, but even the most back-watchiest back-watcher in the world can be out-back-watched, my dude. And who's gonna come rescue you then, hm? HMM??

Neil fucking will, of course.

        „The next time someone comes for you, stand down and let me deal with it. Do you understand?“

        „If it means losing you, then no.“

SHIT WHAT.

Since when are our boys so damn open with their love declarations?? This was so outta nowhere?? I'm fcukign?? Having a heart attack??

And following that – of course. The one, the only, the iconic:

        „I hate you,“ Andrew said casually. (…) „You were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs.“

        „I'm not a hallucination,“ Neil said, nonplussed.

        „You are a pipe dream,“ Andrew said.

BOY.

SHIT.

IM FCIKIGN FUCKKNGING FKUCKKVMFGNICHNNNKNX

The fact that Andrew thought his feelings (THAT ARE NOW CONFIRMED, I REPEAT, CONFIRMED ANDREW FEELINGS FOR NEIL HAVE BEEN SPOTTED) were a temporary thing, unreal, a side effect of being high out of his mind, is just like kind of, casually ruining my life. No biggie.

No fucking biggie.

Andrew quickly realizes he may have admitted too many feelings though, and in a feeble attempt to save his cold front and fragile masculinity, he throws Neil's keys off the roof, because just giving them back to him normally wouldn't have been Manly™ enough.

However Neil, once more, is able to show us that he can give as good as he gets (innuendo absolutely intended):

        Neil wasn't sure why he did it, but he plucked Andrew's cigarette off the sidewalk and stuck it between his lips. He tipped his head back to meet Andrew's unwavering gaze and tapped two fingers to his temple in Andrew's mocking salute. (…) It felt like a win, though Neil wasn't sure why.

Fucking hell.

These two are going to a) improve this last book exponentially and b) absolutely fucking ruin my life.

Nicki out.

As always: If you like what I do here and you want to help me continue writing fun things for you, please consider buying me a coffee. Every lil bit does absolutely help, getting me through uni and all that jazz. Thanks so much!!

#nicki reads tfc #tkm #tfc #aftg #the kings men #the foxhole court #all for the game #nora sakavic #this is SO LATE im so sorry #//dishes update out #//leaves in a flurry of glitter and stress #drop me an ask or tags in ur reblogs to tell me how you liked it ok byeeee

[lilacmoon83]

Dreaming Out Loud

Dreaming Out Loud

Chapter 21: Falsehoods

"David...I really don't think this is necessary," Mary protested, as she sat in the exam room.

"We don't know that. I just want to make sure you didn't hit your head or something when you fainted," he replied. Stephanie smiled.

"He's right to be concerned, Mary," she agreed, as the raven haired beauty huffed and rolled her eyes. It made David take a stifled breath, as she looked exactly like their daughter in that moment. Whale made his entrance and was already exasperated.

"Sorry for the wait, but as you can imagine, I've been busy," Whale mentioned, as he looked at her chart.

"If you're not family, then you'll kindly leave while examine my patient," Whale said flippantly.

"David is my family and so is Stephanie. I want them here," Mary replied. The doctor sighed and was too tired to protest, as he conducted a physical.

"Well, despite fainting, you appear to be fine. I don't see any lesions or bruises so I think your fall was harmless. If you feel any pain or dizziness, you should come back immediately. Otherwise, I don't see a reason for you to stay," Whale said, as he scribbled on her chart, before leaving.

"See...I'm fine," she said. He chuckled and put his arm around her.

"Then how about dinner at Granny's? You're welcome to join us, Stephanie," he said. She smiled.

"That sounds wonderful," she agreed. Mary sighed.

"Maybe we can get to shopping tomorrow. Let's check on Belle too before we go," she suggested.

"Of course," he agreed, as they headed out.

The jail cell door closed with a chink and she sighed, as she dropped the file on his desk.

"I need to get out of here and see Belle," Gold growled.

"You know I can't let you go after you lost it on Mr. French," Emma replied.

"What about what he did?!" Gold spat.

"Believe me, I'll be bringing him in too after he's released from the hospital for pulling a knife on Mary Margaret and Belle," she said.

"You need to stop playing by the rules, Miss Swan, because I assure you Regina will not," he warned. She sighed.

"You know I have to. I may have been elected, but if I give her a legitimate reason, she can still fire me. Then we'll really be no where," she warned. Gold was silent, loathed to admit that she had a point.

"So...Moe French. He's Belle's father?" Emma asked.

"Of sorts, though he's not a model version of one, but then neither was I. We can't all be your father, I suppose," Gold mused.

"What did he do to her?" the blonde asked.

"It's a very long, sordid story. But suffice to say, he had a certain vision of who his daughter should be and Belle had other ideas. Back in our land, Lord Maurice sought to marry her off to Gaston, who in turn would provide his army to defeat the ogres that were terrorizing their land," he explained.

"Gaston...of course. Is he as terrible as the stories made him out to be?" Emma asked.

"More or less...Belle certainly didn't want to marry him so I stepped in and killed all the ogres," he replied. Emma smiled.

"So you saved her," she surmised.

"No...I don't do anything without charging a price and so I took her prisoner. She became my maid," he responded and Emma frowned.

"Oh…" she said awkwardly.

"We're not your parents, Miss Swan. It is not easy to love a monster. But somehow Belle managed," he added.

"Then something happened?" Emma questioned.

"I let her go and she didn't come back. The Queen told me she died," he answered.

"And you believed her?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"She told me her father locked her away and she died falling from the tower. Believe me, Lord Maurice wouldn't have been above doing so to keep us apart," he replied.

"You let her go…and she would have come back if she could. You're Rumpelstiltskin and the Beast," she realized. He rolled his eyes

"Yes...I am a beast, at least most think so," he agreed. She shrugged.

"My Dad doesn't think so. In fact, I'd say he considers you a friend, especially since you helped him," she retorted. "I helped him, because it served the purpose of breaking the curse faster," he refuted. She shrugged.

"I'm just saying that I know my Dad. I know he owes you for helping him keep Regina from giving him a fake life or some crap and I suppose I do too. I mean...I have my Dad while I'm awake for the first time in my life and it's amazing," she replied.

"What is your point, Miss Swan?" he asked impatiently.

"My point is that have you just thought about ever asking someone to help you, because you're a friend?" she asked.

"I am not someone that has friends as a rule," he refuted.

"But if you did...you know you could just ask for help, you know, without the whole deal and threats and stuff," she said. He was quiet for a moment.

"So...you're saying that if I ask your father for help, I don't need a deal or threat?" he asked.

"Pretty much. I know...crazy, right?" she joked.

"More than you know," he responded.

"I mean, he won't kill anyone for you or taking a sleeping curse for you, though he'd probably do that for Mom," she rambled.

"And what about you, Miss Swan?" he asked.

"Me?" she questioned.

"If I needed a favor in the future, would I need to make a deal or could I simply ask as you say?" he asked curiously.

"Ask and if I can help...I will," she agreed. He looked skeptical, as she returned to her desk to do the paperwork on today's debacle, leaving him with his thoughts.

Mary, David, and Stephanie waited outside Belle's room impatiently, as Whale conducted an exam.

"Why isn't she awake yet?" Mary fretted.

"That was a nasty bump she got. I'm sure she's going to be fine though," he promised, as Whale came out of the room.

"How is she?" Mary asked.

"She should make a full recovery, but she's sedated now so she can rest. I'm afraid she can't have any visitors until tomorrow," he said, as he left to continue his rounds. Mary's shoulders slumped, as she peered through the window.

"We'll come back first thing in the morning," David suggested. She nodded with a smile, as they started toward the elevator. But as they rounded the corner, they ran right into Damon, who was being pushed in a wheelchair by an orderly.

"Well...imagine running into the reason I'm here," he hissed, as David pulled Mary back.

"You did this to yourself, Mr. Tromera," Stephanie growled.

"I'm sorry...do I know you?" he asked, as his gaze swept over her

"No...but you hurt my friends. That's enough for me to know you're scum," she hissed back, as he held her in a scrutinizing gaze for a few moments, before his stare shifted to Mary Margaret. It was frightening and hungry, as usual and the raven haired beauty couldn't help but shudder. David's arms kept her from panicking completely.

"Ah...there you are Damon," a man's voice said and David's blood boiled, as he finally came face to face with King George or as he was known here, Albert Spencer, esteemed District Attorney. Damon smirked.

"Everything is taken care of," Spencer stated.

"Thank you, Mr. Spencer. I knew I could count on you," Damon goaded.

"What exactly did you take care of?" David questioned.

"I've been discharged from this place at last," Damon replied. David glowered at him.

"Then I guess you'll be walking straight into a jail cell," the prince said.

"That's where you're wrong, deputy," Spencer retorted and Damon's smirk widened.

"He attacked us...he tried to kill me and assaulted Mary. He was going to hurt her," David growled.

"David's right. He's been brought up on formal charges of attempted murder," Stephanie interjected.

"And assault," David added.

"Which is why he will stand trial for. Until then, a judge has granted his attorney's request for bail, which has been paid in full. Mr, Tromera is free to go until his trial begins next month," Spencer replied in a goading tone.

"He is a monster…" David growled.

"A jury will decide that, Deputy Nolan," Spencer responded.

"I'm sure I'll see you both around town," the monster said smugly, as his gaze lingered on Mary Margaret.

"Have a wonderful evening, Miss Blanchard," he leered, as he was pushed away by an orderly.

"Damn him…" Stephanie cursed, noticing Mary's near catatonic stare. David cupped her beautiful face in his hands.

"He's not going to get away with what he did," he promised

"I love you for saying that, but I think we both know how this will go. The jury is probably already bought and paid for. That's how this town works. Trust me, I've lived here long enough to know that," she said with hopelessness in her tone.

"We will still fight him," David insisted, as he hugged her close and she clung to him for dear life.

"Maybe you should take her home. I'll get take out from Granny's and bring it to the loft," Stephanie suggested. David nodded.

"That sounds like a good idea. Thanks," he replied

Emma arrived at the hospital and found Dr. Whale, making his rounds.

"Sheriff," he greeted at the nurse's desk.

"How are Belle and Mr. French?" she asked.

"You know, I'm not at liberty to discuss my patients with non-familial persons," he responded.

"Mr. French pulled a knife on Belle and Mary Margaret. He also lowered Mary into the cavern beneath the library against her will. I need to know his condition, so I know when I can arrest him," Emma replied. Whale sighed.

"His injuries are mostly superficial. He's been treated and patched up. I'm keeping him overnight, but barring no complications, I should be able to release him in the morning," he reported.

"Can I see him?" she asked.

"Yes, but try not to agitate him. He is still my patient," Whale warned.

"I'll do my best," Emma replied, as she slipped quietly into the room, seeing that he was awake.

"Mr. French...I need to ask you a couple of questions," she stated. He nodded.

"You pulled a knife of Belle and Mary Margaret. Usually people like you don't randomly go around doing things like that," she said.

"People like me?" he asked.

"Upstanding business owners with no criminal record whatsoever. You've never even had a parking ticket so you pulling a knife on two unarmed women is more than a little strange," she replied.

"What are you asking me, Sheriff?" he questioned.

"Did someone put you up to this?" she asked. Moe opened his mouth, but they were interrupted by another voice.

"Not another word, Mr. French," the man said, as he came into the room.

"Who are you?" Emma asked.

"Mitchell Herman...Mr. French's attorney," he replied. Emma raised an eyebrow, as another man slipped into the room.

She had to clamp down her emotions at this one. She knew who this was, even without ever having actually seen him. This man was as bad as Regina, maybe worse in some ways. King George...or District Attorney Albert Spencer. The man that forced her mother to break her father's heart. The man that had threatened to kill her grandmother if her father didn't enter into an arranged marriage. The man that had cursed her mother to be barren, resulting in her grandmother giving up her life just so Emma could exist.

"I took the liberty of seeing that Mr. French has proper representation," Spencer said.

"Which means this interview is over, Sheriff," Mitchell added.

"Mr. French is going to be brought up on charges," Emma interjected.

"And I'm dismissing those charges," Spencer retorted.

"You can't do that," Emma spat.

"Oh...I assure you I can, Sheriff Swan. This was a simple misunderstanding and mistakes were made by a distraught father, who was then beaten senseless," Spencer said.

"So Regina snaps her fingers and her lap dogs jump into action," Emma accused.

"Watch your tongue, Miss Swan," Albert snapped.

"Sheriff Swan," she corrected.

"And if I don't, you'll what? You'll work me over and then have your precious Mayor sweep your misdeeds under the rug? Because we both know that's exactly what she's going to try to do with Damon Tromera. Well, I hope you're ready for one hell of a fight," Emma growled, as she stormed out of the room.

The Dreamscape

When Emma arrived in the dreamscape that night, she was unsurprised to see her parents dancing in the meadow. Carefree, with love glowing in their eyes. Sometimes, it still gave Emma pause to see them like this. It was still difficult to believe at times that she had come from a love like this...one so powerful. In the world she grew up in when she was awake, this kind of love just didn't exist. She loved seeing them like this, unburdened by the Queen's evil and the complications of the curse. She had remained vague on what was going on in town. She wanted it that way. She didn't want them to remember their lives when they were awake, not yet anyway. They likely soon would once the curse was the curse was broken and she still had a lot of work to do. But coming here, being with them like this, made her task seem less daunting.

"Have I told you lately how much I love you, my darling?" he asked, as he picked her up and spun her around.

"You have...but I never tire of hearing it, though when you serenade me with your gorgeous voice, you really outdo yourself," she mentioned fondly.

"I love singing to you," he agreed.

"And I love when you do, though I could never doubt your love, even without words or song. The way you look at me, the way you hold me, the way you kiss me; it speaks volumes in a way words cannot. I just hope I am as good at expressing my love for you as you are to me," she replied. He smiled.

"You are," he assured, as their lips met with tender passion. Emma shook her head, knowing she better interrupt this or she would be seeing things a daughter should never see. She walked closer and they sensed her, as their lips parted.

"Emma!" Snow called, as they enveloped her in their embrace. And her father cradled her head.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, as she cupped her daughter's face with both hands. Emma smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"It's fine," she replied.

"Princess...you can tell us, you know. We can handle it," he assured.

"I know...I just...this place is like a sanctuary," she lamented.

"It is...and nothing can sully that. We can't be there for you in the right capacity when we're awake, so please let us be here for you now," Snow pleaded.

"Well, without going into too many details, I was unfortunate enough to finally meet King George," she revealed. She saw her mother's expression tighten and something flash behind her father's eyes.

"Did he do something to hurt you?" Charming asked, trying to keep his voice as even as possible.

"No...he just happens to be in a position of power, like Regina. He's kind of in charge of the justice system so to speak," Emma explained vaguely.

"Which means there will be injustice with him in any position of power," Charming surmised.

"Yeah...but I'm going to handle it," she promised.

"We know you will. You're so strong, honey," Snow gushed and hugged her tightly.

"It's not hard to see where Henry gets his hopeful nature," Emma replied. And her parents beamed at the mention of the grandchild they were eager to meet.

Early the next morning, Regina strode down the mostly deserted corridors of the hospital. It was well before visitation hours, but no one would dare stop her or question her. She found the right room and slipped inside.

Belle stirred and was slightly startled when she saw the Mayor in her room.

"Madam Mayor…" she stammered, as she tried to sit up a little more.

"Oh don't fuss, dear. I just came to see how you were doing after that ordeal yesterday," Regina purred.

"I'm...I'm fine," she managed to say.

"Is...Mary Margaret okay?" Belle asked.

"Oh yes...Deputy Nolan made sure of that," Regina replied with disdain.

"Now I have a question for you," Regina cooed. Belle swallowed.

"What it is?" she asked.

"Do you recognize this?" she asked, as she showed her the matchbook.

"No...I don't think so," Belle said, as her head felt funny.

"Look again," Regina urged, as Belle did so and the tingling in her head intensified.

Slowly Mary became aware of other sensations than the overwhelming pleasure that had been everything just moments ago. Their cooling skin, his enticing scent, how right it felt to be in his arms, the softness of the mattress beneath her, sunlight peeking through the curtains, and birds chirping happily. But they weren't as happy as she was.

She had woke up in the best way possible. After they loved so passionately last night, she was a little surprised he had any energy left to make love to her this morning, but she probably shouldn't have been. She smiled and opened her eyes. He smiled down at her, mesmerized by her beauty. He was always mesmerized by her, but when she was like this, sated, with mussed hair and swollen lips from his kiss, she had a glow about her that was especially entrancing.

"You're so beautiful…" he uttered reverently, as his kissed her throat.

"I'm a mess," she protested.

"A radiant mess then," he muttered, as he nibbled on her ear, giving her chills. That's when they heard Wilby whine at the door. She giggled.

"He has the worst timing," he said.

"You take Wilby out and then when you get back, you can join me in the shower," she tempted.

"Mmm...deal," he hummed, as he kissed her lips. It was then her turn to admire, as she got the enjoyable pleasure of watching him get up and walk around the small enclosed space naked, as he found his clothes. He leaned down and pecked her on the lips, after he threw his clothes on and then hurried out the door with Wilby. She smiled dreamily and then sauntered into the bathroom.

Emma unlocked Gold's cell that morning.

"Your bail posted and surprisingly, Spencer didn't fight it," she mentioned, as he hobbled out of the jail cell.

"That's because there was a bonus in it for him and if there is one person, Albert Spencer is more afraid to cross than Regina...it's me," he said.

"Okay...I'm gonna just pretend I didn't hear you say you basically paid him off," she replied.

"You can't play by the rules in this town, Miss Swan," he warned again, as he got his coat.

"I need to get to the hospital," he said.

"I know...I called Jefferson. He should be here any minute," she replied, as he looked at her, slightly taken aback. Even after their conversation the previous day, he wasn't used to people helping him without wanting something in return.

"Whale told me she's okay. He wouldn't let David or Mary see her last night, but they were going to visit her this morning," Emma added. Having friends was an odd thing for him and not entirely comfortable. But he wasn't ungrateful either. He simply nodded, as Jefferson arrived.

"How is she?" Mary asked, as Whale came out of Belle's room that morning.

"Physically, she's fine. I should be releasing her later today," he responded.

"Is something else wrong?" David asked.

"Well...it seems the bump to her head has brought back some memories. Belle is saying now she's Lacey French. You can see her, but I'm not sure she's going to know who you are," Whale replied, as he left to continue his rounds. Mary was stunned and looked to David.

"She got her memories back...that's good," she said. He gave her an encouraging nod.

"You're still friends. You can explain that to her," he encouraged. But he had a sinking feeling, as they went into the room.

Whatever memories she had now weren't real and that meant Regina had gotten to her.

"Belle…" Mary called and the woman in the bed looked up sharply.

"I mean Lacey…" she corrected herself.

"I'm sorry...you are?" she asked shortly.

"Um...I'm Mary Margaret and this is David. We're your friends," she said. She scoffed.

"Yeah...somehow I doubt that. You two don't exactly look like the type of people I hang out with," she retorted. Mary frowned.

"I know you don't remember...but we were," she insisted.

"And now we're not. Whoever this Belle was...it's not me. It's the person I was without memories. But now I have my real memories back. You see, Lacey hangs out in bars and by the looks of you, I'd say you've probably never even been to one," she said, taking in Mary's conservative clothing.

"I've...maybe not, but we did have a lot of fun talking about books and you helped me and my students plant a garden at the school," Mary reminded, as David put his hands on her arms. His heart was already breaking for her.

"Books? Gardening? Ugh...it's worse than I thought. Are you sure you're not Mary Poppins?" she scoffed.

"But…" Mary started to say.

"Listen sweet cheeks, I'm not this Belle that you keep on about anymore. I'm Lacey. I drink too much, I sleep around, I shoot pool, and I party. Trust me...we're not friends," she hissed.

"You don't have be cruel," David told her, as he put his arm around Mary.

"Hmm...you're cute as hell, but too boy scout for me probably. Let me know if you get bored with rainbow kisses here. I could show you a good time," she purred. But he ignored her and led Mary toward the door.

"Come on...let's go," he told her, as he planted a kiss on her hair and led her out of the room.

"David...what happened to her? How could she be so different? Just like that?" Mary asked dejectedly.

"I...I don't know, my love. I'm sure she's just confused right now," he replied, as he saw Gold and Jefferson approaching. He knew this was going to be ugly for Gold too.

"How is she?" Jefferson asked.

"Physically, she's fine, but…" David said. But he was cut off.

"I need to see her," Gold interrupted.

"Gold...wait!" he warned, but the pawnbroker ignored him.

"What's going on?" Jefferson asked. David sighed.

"Hey...I'm going to get us some coffee. I'll be right back," he promised, as he kissed her tenderly. She nodded.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too," she replied, finding comfort in him, as he walked down the hall with Jefferson.

"She did it, didn't she?" he asked.

"I think so," David replied.

"Regina got her," the hatter said.

"And gave her false memories," the prince confirmed.

Regina had struck back and somehow, they knew the Queen wasn't done...

#Snowing #Snowing fanfiction #season 1 au

[thorne93]

Who Will Win? (Part 15)

Prompt: Jefferson (Once Upon A Time) sees you on the sidewalk one day, his “dead” wife.

Word Count: 1698

Warning: Threats, language, angst, sadness, darkness, gore

Notes: This will span from season 1 through 5, if you don’t want spoilers, maybe don’t read this, haha. Also, the reader’s Storybrooke name is Alice. Beta’d by the amazeballs @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and badgered @amarvelouswritings Thank you both! Could never get this done without you!

Tags:  @amarvelouswritings @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise19982sand @missinstantgratification @thejulesworld @nedthegay @marvelloushamilton @munlis  @bubblyanarocks3​​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @kaliforniacoastalteens @hardcollectiontrashworld

Sebastian Stan Tags: @nedthegay @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange @buenostardissherlock @the-red-world-of-jess-chibi  @lenawiinchester​​

Who Will Win Tags: @mrs-lancelot @elivanah @ultrarebelheart @learisa @isis278

Song: Castle - Halsey

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You knocked on the apartment door.

As soon as David opened it, you said, “Don’t shoot, please.”

“Y/N,” he breathed. “Come in.”

“Thank you.”

You walked in and found Emma, Henry, and Snow.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Emma wondered.

“It’s about Henry. He’s in danger,” you informed.

Everyone bristled.

“Not from me. I’m trying to save him. It’s Cruella. She wants to take Henry and make him use his powers.”

“We have to hide him then,” Emma said, her eyes darting to her parents.

“I’m way ahead of you,” you said, holding your hand up. “She came to me, asking me to take him, I told her to go choke,” you informed.

“Okay so if you told her no, why is he in danger?” Emma asked.

“Are you new here, Emma? When a villain doesn’t get what they want, they finds other means. I’m going to use my power to stop her, but I do need your help. I found a spell that can help protect Henry.”

“Great, let’s do it.”

“Mom, it’s dark magic,” Henry tried, looking to you.

“Henry, this won’t hurt anyone, I promise. I’m trying to keep you safe. But I can’t just cast this spell. It has to come from someone that truly loves him,” you said.

“Okay, so what is it?” Emma asked urgently.

“Emma, wait, we don’t know this magic,” Snow tried.

“Snow, it’s me. I know I look and sound different, but do you really think I would hurt any of you after everything we’ve been through?” you asked sincerely.

“I want to say no, but Y/N, you're...you’re different now. You’re not just Y/N, you're Y/N with darkness in her, it’s a different case.”

“I am not Rumplestiltskin, I am not the Evil Queen. I am not here to hurt anyone.”

“I trust her,” Emma said suddenly.

“Emma,” Snow said cautiously.

“Mom, it’s our best chance to save Henry and if we don’t trust Y/N...well...we’re no better than what we say we are.”

Everyone seemed stuck for a moment.

“Okay...Do it,” Snow agreed.

“Here. Just say this, and it will help keep Henry safe.”

You handed her the shot of the spell. The part she needed to chant.

“With this power, I unbind. With this power, I unwind. Only I can let go, to friend or foe. To have is to hold, for all of eternity,” she said. “I don’t get it, Y/N, this doesn’t sound like a protection spell it sounds--” But her speech was cut off as she jolted backward, crying out and clutching her stomach.

“Mom!”

“Emma!”

You stood, taking your phone back, ready for the spell to work its magic.

“What’s happening?! What did you do to her?” David demanded as he stood up and got in your face.

“Calm down, Charming,” you said simply. The white magic started to flow from Emma’s mouth and over to you.

“Emma!” Snow screamed, wanting to hold her, but afraid to touch her. “What did you do?!” Snow screamed over the swirl of the air and magic. You couldn’t answer though, your mouth was open, accepting the magic coming from a paralyzed Emma.

Once it was done, everyone in the room was staring at you in angry shock.

“You lied to us!” Snow accused loudly.

“No, I didn’t. This spell will save Henry. I promise. And I will give Emma her power back as soon as I’m done using it. Just trust me and please don’t go after her yourselves.”

With that, you disappeared in a cloud of red smoke.

You went off into the woods by yourself to practice. Ready for anything Cruella had planned. You exhausted your powers and strategies.

You stood at the clock tower, five minutes early, your hands clenched in fists.

“So you made it!” the familiar voice cheered. “Wait, where is that insufferable little boy?” she asked, Rabbit on a leash next to her. You noticed the townspeople were coming out of stores and stopped walking along the street to see what was happening.

“Safe.”

“We had a deal,” she said, shifting her body, pointing down to the ground.

“No, you had a threat. I don’t know if you forgot who you’re talking to,” you said, stalking toward her. “But I’m the Dark One now. I’m not Rumplestiltskin, I don’t make deals.” She went to raise her hand but you blasted her back with magic and she went flying. She landed in the pavement, making it crater under her landing. The sensation of causing pain gave you such a thrill it was intoxicating, like the best drug you could ever have. “You threatened my dog, my family, and my friends. I want to make it very clear who you’re dealing with,” you said darkly as she stood up and you blasted her again down the street. Each blast was like another hit off the best drug or swig of the best alcohol. Nothing could compete with this feeling.

“Maybe we can work something out,” she said weakly as she stood up, a bloody mess.

“No, I don’t make deals with villains. I’m not the Charmings, I’m not Rumpelstiltskin, I’m Y/N,” you answered, clutching her dress and lifting her. “Now let’s take a little trip.”

-------------

You appeared way underground, deep within the bowels of the tunnels that Regina had built long ago to house Maleficent. You flicked your hand and Rabbit was back home, safely in the house as you continued to walk, holding Cruella in the air.

“What are we doing here?” she asked weakly.

“Call this your prison sentence, dahling,” you stressed, mocking her.

“What are you doing with me?” she asked. You slammed her onto a board you conjured up and handcuffed her to the table. You bound her mouth.

“That’s enough talking. Plus we both know what can happen if you open your mouth,” you said overtly sweetly as you leaned over her. “You see, you’ve hurt a lot of people, and a lot of animals. That’s something I can’t stand for.”

You pulled out the wavy dagger, happy to have it in your hands for the first time.

“You like skinning things, right? I’m going to take a page from your book.”

You smiled wickedly down at her and pressed the knife to her skin and ever so slightly pricked under it, the knife gliding under her skin like hot butter. She screamed out a muffled cry of pain.

“What was that? I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the tortured people--” You twisted the knife under the skin “--and animals you hurt.” You continued your handy work of slowly skinning her, the feeling of giving her the same torture and pain she’d given others. “How does it feel? Hm? This is what all of them felt.”

Blood was pouring everywhere on the table, onto the ground. Until eventually, she was entirely skinned, but still alive. You reached into her chest cavity, and pulled out her heart.

“Crush it,” Rumple coaxed.

“No.”

“Come on! Smash it! She almost took your dog away.”

“No!” you shouted at him. Then quietly said, “I’m not going to crush this...not yet anyway.”

You resurfaced to the streets, only to find an angry mob waiting for you.

“What did you do?” Grumpy demanded.

“What happened to Cruella?”

“Are you two working together?”

“People, calm down. I took care of her.”

“Yeah? How can we be so sure? You’re the dark one, you could be helping her!”

“If I was helping her, would I do this?” you said, holding the heart up and squeezing it tight.

Everyone gasped.

“Let me make this perfectly clear,” you started, “I am a Dark One, yes, but I am not any of the ones before me. I am not Rumplestiltskin. I am not here to make deals. I will never lie to you. I know in the past they made deals with the villains, but I, for one, am tired of the villains constantly getting away with the shit they pull!” you shouted as you stood on a pile of rubble in the street where Cruella had landed earlier. A hum of agreement fell over the crowd. “Yes, I kidnapped Victor Frankenstein's brother, but I was in pain. My dad died. I wanted to make him pay. I’m sure a lot of you can sympathize with that…” Another hum and shrug came. “Cruella? Who here has a good memory of Cruella? No one, right? I just did you a favor. I’m tired of people like the Charmings thinking that the villains will change. They’ll never change. Because of their blind faith, who gets screwed over? Us! I’m not here to make your life a living hell. I’m here to get rid of the villains once and for all!”

The townspeople cheered at you.

“I promise I will never deceive you, lie to you, manipulate you, make a deal with people who are going to ultimately screw you over. I’ll never take advantage of you in a bad situation, because I’ve been there. I’ve been where you are. Scared, helpless, doomed to the hands of the Dark One or the Evil Queen or the Wicked Witch or the Snow Queen or even the Charmings. You just have to sit and hope they’ll help you. Me? Ask me for something and I’ll do it. I’m not going to make you owe me. I want to finally clear this town of the plague that is known as the villains. I want to use this power within me for good. So, if you’re tired of evil winning, and the good thinking it’s going to get better, raise your hand.”

The entire town raised their hand.

“Good. I promise, I will not harm a single person in this town, so long as you don’t hurt me or my family. Deal?”

Everyone nodded and murmured a yes.

“Excellent,” you said, looking out over the crowd. “You will find me at my new home.” With that, you whipped your hands into the air and a rumbling came over the ground as an enormous, pointed, black castle rumbled up from the ground.

#who will win #jefferson #jefferson fic #jefferson x reader #jefferson ouat #once upon a time #ouat fic #once upon a time fic

[lenific]

Memory Of You. Belle/Rumpelstiltskin. (flashfic collection)

Inspired by @rumbelleprompts. “Rumplestiltskin drinks a memory potion after he sends Belle to fetch straw in Skin Deep.”

@mariequitecontrarie asked 99 (back)

Belle pushed the door to the main hall open, a little disappointed to find it empty. She left the basket next to the lonely spinning wheel, and marched upstairs to the second most likely location to find Rumpelstiltskin.

He was indeed tinkering with an array of bottles at his work table.

“Hello, Rumple.” Belle said, grinning from ear to ear as she rushed toward him. “I’m back!”

His surprise wasn’t unexpected.

To be frozen into place, however, drug an alarmed squeak out of her.

Rumpelstiltskin stared at her, eyes coldly curious. “Now, now, dearie… Shouldn’t proper introductions come first?”

@thelonelyjournal-keeper asked 77 (numberless)

His first instinct was to neutralize the intruder, followed by a quick check of his wards in case the squeaking brunette was a distraction.

Numberless attacks had been made over the decades. and the knights and assassins responsible had been duly disposed of. However, there was always someone stupid enough to believe they could vanquish the Dark One.

But never a young girl armed with nothing but a smile.

Intrigued, he peered at her. “Who are you?”

@babybomberbo asked 20 (teeth)

The girl insisted to have returned solely to keep him company. She must be lying through her teeth. …Wasn’t she?

@joylee56 asked 12 (loud)

"I am not leaving. Do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, dearie!"

@of-princes-and-savages asked 13 (record)

“For the record-” Belle strode unflinchingly into the cell “-we’ve done this before.”

@of-princes-and-savages asked 99 (regret)

​Alone in her cell, her last sight of Rumpelstiltskin a sneering laugh as he locked her in, Belle reflected on her circumstances.

Within a day she'd come from being Rumpelstiltskin's maid (and maybe his friend), to a free woman returning home, and now a prisoner in the Dark Castle.

If that carriage hadn't crossed her way... If the traveling lady hadn't been bored enough to amuse herself with a chat with a stranger... If their conversation had taken any other path...

But Belle couldn't regret the advice that had brought her back, only that she hadn't arrived soon enough. 

@nropay asked 74 (silent)

Rumpelstiltskin returned to check on the girl sooner than he’d originally planned. In his experience, prisoners were the loud sort, either begging for freedom or protesting their innocence.

The silent dungeon was an anomaly.

Fuming at the thought that her mysterious master might have filched the girl away, Rumpelstiltskin popped into the cell - and found her sleeping.

He stared.

The possibility that anyone could rest while at his mercy had never occurred to him.

 @sygmarie4-w asked 82 (load)

"Nice tale, very nice. But aren't you missing the glaring hole in your story?" Rumpelstiltskin tilted his head in a parody of curiosity. "Why, dearie! Why would I need a maid at all?"

To his surprise the girl smiled at that. "I've often wondered the same. It's not like I found the castle in shambles, so obviously magic always dealt with the dusting, the meals, and the loads of laundry." She looked him in the eye. "I still believe you were lonely."

@of-princes-and-savages asked 96 (learned)

"Learned young ladies don't enjoy working as maids so much they run back to their jobs. So.. why are you here, Belle of Avonlea?"

He obviously dismissed her name as another deception. Just like he had dismissed everything Belle had told him. Having been ridiculed for mentioning that they had almost become friends - that he'd been fond enough of her that he'd set her free - Belle had no illusion that confessing her love, that she had come back for him, would get a better reception.

Still, she wouldn't lie.

"I decided I belong here."

@of-princes-and-savages asked 84 (applaud)

"I applaud your commitment to your tale, dearie," Rumpelstiltskin told her, playing with the stale piece of bread that was her breakfast leftovers. "A lesser storyteller would be doomed to plying their trade without a tongue - but you! Such a soulful recount. So vivid! No, no. Talent like that cannot be squandered." Breadcrumbs flew everywhere as a burst of magic teared through the larger piece. Rumpelstiltskin kept smiling cordially, but his eyes were hard. "Now, why don't you tell me who sent you?"

@betweenpaperpages asked 42 (look)

Belle groaned as she remembered the look on Rumpelstiltskin’s face before he had spirited himself away. Not only did he refuse to believe a word she said, but he’d convinced himself that she was a threat.

At least it couldn’t get worse.

@gypsy-belle asked 79 (jolly)

“Now you’ll tell me you were happy.” He sneered at the blatant impossibility. “A maid dancing through the Dark One’s hallways, breaking into some jolly tune or another out of sheer delight. Only a fool would believe that!”

Belle never wavered. “I don’t enjoy dancing by myself,” she said matter-of-factly, “you keep complaining that I’m tone-deaf though you’re not much better, and….” Her shoulders gave a little shrug. “I haven’t been unhappy here, Rumple. Not for a long time.”

@of-princes-and-savages asked 73 (object)

Rumpelstiltskin had planned to object to all her requests, but the girl's misery gave him pause. She had taken her banishment to the dungeons in stride, and hadn't complained over the tasteless meals. The news of the nonexistent library, however, made her eyes shine with unreleased tears.

"I didn't say you couldn't read at all," he groused, summoning the book in her basket. "Word of advice, though? Never expect handsome heroes outside fiction.

@annagingil asked 88 (quill)

“You still don’t believe me, do you?”

His distrustful glance was answer enough. Words were soft clay to him, easily malleable in obscuring the truth. Rumpelstiltskin relied on their meaning only when they were written down and signed.

… Well, then.

“Fine. Bring me paper and a quill, and I’ll write down everything I know about you. I know you still won’t believe me,” Belle said when he gave an amused snort, tickled by her attempt at trickery, “but at least you’ll see that I never contradict myself.”

@gypsy-belle asked 60 (toothbrush)

“You’re the most put-together prisoner I’ve seen.”

Having seen his treatment of actual prisoners, Belle considered herself a reluctantly received guest. “I’ll take that as a compliment, since I can only handle the basics.” A basin of clear water served to wash her face, brush her teeth, and keep her hair clean. “Any chance I can get my bathtub back?”

@still-searching47 asked 84 (zoom)

Intrigued despite himself, Rumpelstiltskin allowed the pull of curiosity to drag him down to the dungeons again and again.

Every conversation with the strange girl convinced him of her foolishness in pretending to have befriended the Dark One, but sometimes... Sometimes he wavered.

Affection could be contrived, and smiles couldn't be trusted, but often her attention would zoom in on the oddest details - "Oh, Rumple. You haven't eaten at all today, have you?" - and Rumpelstiltskin found himself wanting to believe that someone could care.

@annagingil asked 100 (stomach)

"What's so interesting about this book that you're reading it for the third time?" His fingernails tapped the leather cover, voice dripping with distaste. "I could barely stomach paging through it!"

Belle considered defending her favorite story, but experience said that Rumpelstiltskin would never share her love of it. Having once heard his arguments to dismiss the wholesome protagonist as a pipe dream, Belle decided to deflect. "Well, it's not as if I have other books to choose from."

"You like reading that much?"

Her smile was bittersweet, but at least he was rediscovering her. "Yes, Rumple. I really do."

@sygmarie4-w asked 22 (detect)

The girl's story couldn't be the truth, but he had yet to detect any deceit. Was she mad, then, or just spelled?

@still-searching47 asked 47. (accurate)

Rumpelstiltskin surveyed the broken vials and wasted ingredients. The potion had required the most accurate measure of pulverized dragon scales, but his mind had slipped.

This couldn't be allowed to continue. Something must be done about that girl before he destroyed his castle for thinking of her!

@gypsy-belle asked 97 (crabby)

Her small cell wasn’t an impressive setting for Rumpelstiltskin’s pacing, but what was a show of temper without an audience to be unsettled by it?

Too bad that Rumpelstiltskin forgot that, far from fearing the angry beast he meant to project, Belle was reminded of a crabby tomcat just chased away from clean pillows.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing the blood of nosy girls can’t solve.”

Even their ‘brief’ acquaintanceship would interpret her look as don’t be silly. “Can I help?” He snorted, but Belle had won this battle already. “Will you lose something if you let me try?”

@annagingil asked 60 (certain)

"It's been five days." Belle leaned back tiredly against the stone wall. She had only read, walked around her cell, and conversed with Rumpelstiltskin on his frequent visits.  Yet, she was exhausted. "If you were still suspicious of my intentions, you'd already have made certain I regretted having come to you. So what are you planning to do with me?"

@mariequitecontrarie asked 17 (pinch)

"Just a pinch of this in your tea, and you'll forget all this trouble."

Belle glared. "No."

@still-searching47 asked 47. (fierce)

His laughter at the girl's claim of friendship was met with the fiercest little growl of annoyance. Rumpelstiltskin opened his mouth to send her away, but she broke into his personal space, grabbing his arm without hesitation, and he wondered whether she told the truth after all.

@ifeltyourheartbeat asked 32 (work)

Even without his memories, Rumpelstiltskin had listed her former duties accurately. His dire threat amounted to returning them to her.

Belle smiled, amused. "A little work won't scare me away, you know?"

@still-searching47 asked 47 (worthless)

"There was... a teacup here," Belle said, aware that Rumpelstiltskin grew suspicious the more she lingered by the cabinet. "A chipped one?"

Rumpelstiltskin snorted. "I'll never believe you if your imagination keeps running unchecked. I have rooms of treasure, why would I keep such a worthless thing?"

@joylee56 asked 63 (society)

"Novel experience or not," Rumpelstiltskin said, grinning from ear to ear, "I must admit it feels nice to have a society lady pour my tea."

Belle's smile didn't dim even when Rumpelstiltskin made no comment over the unblemished cup. "I'm glad you think so," she told him, "even if you only say that now that I'm not spilling any all over the place."

@of-princes-and-savages asked 76 (ethereal)

Her old rooms had been comfortable, but the furniture and decoration were kept simple as it fit a favored servant.

Now Belle stared in wonder.

The bookshelf was enough to endear her to her new accommodations, but the wide windows had stolen her breath. They were covered in an ethereal confection of lace, heavier curtains drawn back to allow the sunlight in.

It was a delightful contrast to the dungeons.

"Well. You like it?"

"Oh yes!"

@jackabelle73 asked 93 (eatable)

For someone whose first attempts at cookery had been labeled as 'barely eatable', it made Belle smile to watch Rumpelstiltskin smack his lips with relish.

"Not bad, not bad at all," he said, smiling openly. "It's getting ever harder to believe you. Why'd I ever miss on a hot meal, hmm?"

Instead of letting his disbelief affect her mood, Belle preened at his implied praise. "You're saying I'm a good cook."

Rumpelstiltskin smirked at her bald request for a compliment. "Weeeeell," he drawled, "I might ask for seconds, and that's all I'm saying."

@bookwormchocaholic asked 24 (baby)

"I admit, I'm growing fond of the idea of naming a smart grown-ups as the price for a deal rather than a squealing baby!"

32 (rings)

"A meager dozen of books and you appear late for breakfast, with dark rings under your eyes." Rumpelstiltskin clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You get your famed library, and you'll never sleep again!"

@ishtarelisheba asked 63 (broken)

"Those are nailed down, you know."

Belle grinned and showed him the hammer.

"Hmph. I didn't bring you up here so you could fall off a ladder and get your leg broken. Come down, girl!"

"But the curtains...."

A simple wave of his hand, and sunlight poured into the room.

Rumpelstiltskin's nose twitched in distaste, but he shrugged. "I'll get used to it."

@dragonessdefiledarts asked 34 (complex)

His world should be narrowed to the complex web of favors and circumstances that needed only a subtle push to work to his advantage.

Instead his concentration was diverted by a blue-eyed girl.

Madness!

@white-throated-packrat asked 77 (knot)

Belle had experience in leading a man out of Rumpelstiltskin's dungeon, but where she had hurried Hood's bloodied form through the darkened hallways, now she hesitated before she cut through the knot around Gaston's wrists. "Swear it, Gaston," she repeated. "You mustn't come back."

His expression didn't waver, jaw clenched in stubbornness.

He hadn't said much since he'd returned to human form, but his glare declared he wasn't finished with Rumpelstiltskin.

"Fine," Belle muttered. "Be an idiot."

@joylee56 asked 85 (abusive)

“I wish Gaston the best.” Belle chuckled. “Any other bride will do.”

Rumpelstiltskin snorted. “Wishing that abusive oaf on someone else? That’s cruel.”

Belle shook her head. There was no love between her and Gaston, but she was familiar with his code of honor. “Impossible. He’d never raise a hand against a woman!”

Rumpelstiltskin glanced at her, amusement melting into a pensive stare. “Never have you been as convincing of your innocence,” he said, “as right now when you equal abuse to a beaten wife.”

@of-princes-and-savages asked 76 (shop)

"You're leaving now?"

"I am a busy man, Belle. Besides, I figured you'd enjoy a day alone. Browse the shops, spend my gold. Come back after you're done." He handed her a sizable bag, heavy with coins. His small smile was an exact replica of the one with which he'd sent her away 'to fetch straw' three months before. "Take whatever time you need."

Comprehension dawned. "You don't expect to ever see me again, do you?"

Prompt: sloppy

Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t worried about the sword’s edge at his throat. He actually felt a stirring of respect for the warrior who’d bested the Dark One. Magic would have flattened the woman, and he wouldn’t have felt any guilt at cheating. He was, however, curious as to how Belle would handle the situation.

“He’s not the creature you’re seeking!” she protested.

The woman inspected him, pausing tellingly at his eyes. A twist of her mouth betrayed she felt unsettled by the inhuman features, but her sword didn’t waver. “He looks it.”

Belle gasped in outrage. “You can’t judge by appearances only!”

The warrior was the stubborn type. “He must be its master, then.”

Rumpelstiltskin giggled.

The accusation didn’t faze him. If pressed, he could send something worse than a fire-breathing dog to the area. What amused him was the woman’s mistake in ignoring Belle’s mounting anger.

The girl might frown on morally ambiguous deals, but she loathed sloppy research. Assumptions pulled from thin air put that gimlet look in her eye that even the Dark One knew better than to invite.

“Now you’ve done it,” he sniggered, smirking at the woman.

She was instantly on her guard, but she expected that attack from the wrong direction. That it came as a sharp poke on her arm was definitely a shock.

“Stop this nonsense!” Belle ordered.

Rumpelstiltskin laughed a little harder this time.

His self-appointed maid, who called it a great victory to wrangle an enchanted broom into sweeping the rooms that actually needed it, pitted against a seasoned swordswoman.

The outcome should be laughably predictable.

However, Belle was the woman who had wandered into the Dark Castle and demanded to stay there.

She might not be familiar with weapons, and he suspected she disapproved of bloodletting, but Rumpelstiltskin still knew how he’d lay his bets.

@bookwormchocaholic asked 45 x2 (grateful)

One moment there was a young, handsome man kissing Belle’s hand, grateful for her part in returning him to human form; the next, a wisp of maroon-toned smoke stood in his place - and vanished.

“Rumple!” Belle cried, whirling on him.

Rumpelstiltskin laughed, though at least he gave her the courtesy of a response while he ignored Mulan’s attack. “His Highness seemed in a hurry to find his true love,” he said with affected feeling, complete with a hand clutched over his heart. “Shouldn’t I have sent him straight to her?”

@joylee56 asked 26 (bath)

"Mulan got hurt helping me-"

"Debatable," Rumpelstiltskin muttered, still irritated.

"-so the least I can do is offer her a meal, a bath and a bed."

@joylee56 asked 69 (own)

​"Oh. You have your own rooms." For the first time, Mulan looked sheepish. "I heard..."

Belle rolled her eyes. Nobody had made a fuss about her living in the Dark Castle as Rumpelstiltskin's maid; but now that there was no memory of their deal, people were quick to spread rumors.

"It's not like that," she muttered, annoyed at the gossip - and even more that it was ungrounded. 

Not yet.

@bookwormchocaholic asked 31 (drunk)

Rumpelstiltskin peered down at her, expression uncertain between a perplexed frown and a roar of laughter. He settled for throwing Mulan an accusing glare. "Why is my--- Why is Belle drunk?"

@of-princes-and-savages asked 99 (melted)

Having her relationship with Rumpelstiltskin reset had the occasional advantage.

This time her talent for languages hadn't any link with the Black Fairy, and so it hadn't been relegated along with the memories of that awful night. Instead Belle had been quizzed until Rumpelstiltskin was satisfied with her proficiency, and then installed in a corner of his laboratory. Her pile of scrolls never decreased, and Rumpelstiltskin snickered when she mentioned it.

"Grown bored already, dearie?"

There were texts rarely seen by human eyes. Hours that melted together in close company with Rumpelstiltskin.

Belle shook her head. "Not at all!"

@joylee56 asked 55 (coil)

Having Belle work in his laboratory was a mistake.

She liked to play with her hair, allowing the strands to coil around her finger just to release them to write a new sentence.

"I won't translate this faster because you're hovering, Rumple."

Rumpelstiltskin huffed, though he turned away. "Hovering? Bah! Whatever gave you such idea?"

@bookwormchocaholic asked 45 (grateful)

Queen Regina didn’t bother with the friendliness she’d faked before. “I suppose I should be grateful you’re a clever one,” she said, a twist to her mouth that suggested she wouldn’t be shocked to be proved wrong. “Just keep silent, girl. It’s for the best.”

@thelonelyjournal-keeper asked 88 (pickle)

Belle wasn't surprised at the order to keep to her rooms for the afternoon. Rumpelstiltskin had always shepherded her away from the public rooms when trouble was ahead. "Unsavory guests coming up?"

"Not at all! Charming fellow, actually. But he's run into quite the pickle and only the Dark One can help him." He grinned, eyes alight with mischief as his fingertips tapped together excitedly. "He's not fond of my deals though, so he'll kick up a fuss before he sees reason. Best keep his tantrum private, eh?"

@joylee56 asked 92 (fluttering)

Belle knew there had been an important accomplishment when Rumpelstiltskin waved her into his laboratory, bouncing on his feet with excitement, instead of grousing at the interruption.

"Tell me, Belle. What do you know of true love?"

Belle faltered, dreading that he'd learned about the queen's advice. "I've read about it," she said cautiously.

"In those perfect heroic tales? Bah! Fluttering eyelashes and pointless grand speeches." He presented her with a small bottle, a smug expression on his face as she gasped at the contents. "This, my dear, is the real deal."

@of-princes-and-savages asked 64 (knowing)

Knowing that her company wouldn't be appreciated today, Belle had claimed it was an excellent day to start a kitchen garden.

Rumpelstiltskin, obviously glad to be left alone, gave permission without protest.

He'd forgotten that she was aware of the significance of the date, and Belle wasn't telling. With such fragile trust between them, it was best that Rumpelstiltskin grieved his son in private.

@joylee56 asked 93 (weight)

The girl was usually an unobstructive presence in the background, but today her curiosity was a weight between his shoulders. "Fine," he allowed grouchily. "Ask your questions before you choke on them."

Belle didn't waste time in gratefulness. "Is it true their desert is as big as the Enchanted Forest?"

"Bigger," he responded. "Whole caravans have been lost - and more since their main landmark disappeared."

"Will you find Agrabah?"

"Gods, no!" He laughed. "But I'm in the habit of investigating odd portals. One that swallows a whole city qualifies, don't you think?"

@of-princes-and-savages asked 82(x2) (outstanding)

"Do you believe me now, Rumple, even a little?"

Rumpelstiltskin lifted his eyes from the bundle of dried plants he was sorting into twigs and leaves fit for his potions and those that would do for the kitchen. "A little?" He mimicked. "I wasn't aware you could believe in anything 'a little'."

Since he was being facetious rather than denying the possibility, Belle smiled good-naturedly. "You know what I mean."

"Not because you expressed yourself correctly, dearie." Still chuckling, he abandoned his work and ambled toward her. "Now, what were my options again? Ah, yes. That I'm harboring either the most outstanding actress in the Enchanted Forest-"

"A liar, you mean," Belle grumbled.

"-or a mind-wiped puppet shipped in by one of my maaaaaaany enemies. Hm." He hovered over her "Tough choice, isn't it?"

Belle craned her neck to look him in the eye. "I think you believe me," she told him.

Rumpelstiltskin shrugged. "Maaaaaaybe." He pressed thumb against forefinger. "But only a little!"

@beastlycheese asked 97 (pipe)

Belle had known that Rumpelstiltskin favored smoking. While laundering his shirts, she had often caught the scent of tobacco on the fabric, and occasionally the main hall had born a trace of the sharp smell when she returned from gardening outside.

Now that she worked in his laboratory, Rumpelstiltskin had dismissed any attempt to follow convention and spare a lady from the masculine habit.

To her surprise, Belle didn't mind.

There was an unexpected intimacy in it. She couldn't remember Rumpelstiltskin looking as comfortable as when he sank into his chair, pipe in hand.

She liked it.

@thedarkcheessmaster asked 47. (coat)

Rumpelstiltskin was comfortable in shirtsleeves while he worked in his laboratory. His thick coats, made with exotic leathers and trimmed expensively, were meant to impress outsiders, not keep him warm.

Belle, meanwhile, shivered despite her heavy shawl.

Grumbling, he clicked his fingers.

And fire roared into life.

Prompt: grateful

A chair appeared on the other side of Belle’s desk, and in the next instant Rumpelstiltskin was sitting on it, observing her. Familiar with his habit of disconcerting people just to tease them for their reaction, Belle kept her attention on her work.

It was also his habit not to stay ignored for long.

He coughed loudly, and Belle indulged him with a little sigh. “Yes?”

Rumpelstiltskin raised an eyebrow. “You have a funny way to show respect to the Dark One, dearie.”

“I am doing as you asked, as quickly as you insisted it needed to be done.” Belle replied, putting down her feather and stoppering the ink to avoid another accident. Her expression spoke of her annoyance at the interruption. “You’re the one distracting me.”  

Rumpelstiltskin grinned. He was blamed for everything from colluding with the Evil Queen to the latest flood. Few bothered to check that he was actually guilty, and almost none dared to accuse him to his face.

Belle had yet to hesitate to call him out for any perceived wrongdoing. Seduction, Rumpelstiltskin remembered, had been the first item scratched from the list of possible reasons for her presence.

“You’ve been buried in that book since morning, and don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve barely made  progress. I thought you’d welcome the break.”

“It’s an older version of elvish.” Belle pursed her lips into a determined line. “I like the challenge.”

Rumpelstiltskin stared at her, gauging her sincerity. Then he snickered. “I’m starting to believe that you budged your way into my castle just for the chance to check out the books.”

Belle gave a soft laugh, her hand careful as she closed the old leather cover. “They are all very interesting. I already knew you have great literary taste, Rumpelstiltskin, but the texts you need for your work aren’t the least dull in comparison.”

“Hm. I’ve never been accused of literary tastes,” he mused, provoking another tinkle of laughter. “Children and lost travelers, yes. Books, no, never.”

The arch on Belle’s eyebrows was almost chiding, and there was a hint of exasperation in her smile, but there it stayed, a placid curve on her lips. “You should make it public, then.”

Rumpelstiltskin tilted his head. “Is that another hint to build that dream library of yours?”

Belle’s eyes lit up, but immediately after she was frowning. To his surprise, her final answer was a shake of her head. “I do miss having an endless pick of new novels to take with me to bed, but I think I like this arrangement better.”

Rumpelstiltskin eyed her with skepticism. “A desk and a chair in a corner of my laboratory, better than that marvel you’re so fond of describing?”

“It’s a very comfy chair,” Belle replied, grinning. Then her eyes softened and she reached over. Her fingers grazed the skin of his wrist before he recognized her intent and hastily moved away. The briefest pause. Belle continued as if nothing had happened. “I am grateful for any chance to discover new books, but it used to get lonely, all by myself in that library.” She nodded toward his work space, perhaps all of twenty paces away. “Yes. I like this arrangement better.”

Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes. “I put you here so I can keep an eye on you!”

The girl shrugged. “Regardless,” she said, her smile undimmed. “I’m still grateful for the company.”

@sygmarie4-w asked 59 (wiry)

Belle now understood who Rumpelstiltskin had been before the curse, but picturing him as that small, wiry man proved impossible. Even her fertile imagination stumbled at leaving out his magic-touched skin and odd eyes.

At last she gave up the attempt without a regret, reasoning that she'd fallen for the Rumpelstiltskin that was, not the man he had been.

@of-princes-and-savages asked 82 (outstanding)

"I've read about a land that welcomes unwanted boys-"

Rumpelstiltskin's face darkened. "Careful, dearie. Monster I might be, but I loved my son."

"Oh, I don't mean your Baelfire is there. But there's this entity that collects the boys, no matter their provenance. Isn't it outstanding?" Her voice grew excited. "It must be called to loneliness, not to magic!"

Rumpelstiltskin stared at her, speechless.

Belle reached for his hand. "I promise, Rumple. There's a bridge to the world without magic in Neverland."

@of-princes-and-savages asked 55x2 (walk)

Belle closed the heavy book with a grunt of annoyance. "I'm taking a break," she announced.

Rumpelstiltskin glanced up, brow arched in surprise. "From reading?"

Her answering look might as well have scoffed at the notion. "From reading the same books for the fifth time," she corrected, "and finding no new clues."

He'd warned her that looking for safe passage through Neverland was a fool's mission, but he didn't tease. "It's all there is on that cursed island, dearie."  His voice tried for nonchalance. "If you find nothing, then it's hopeless indeed."

"I'm not giving up," Belle assured him. "But I am taking a walk to clear my head first."

Prompt: writer

"I don't think these books will help, Rumple," Belle said, a furrow between her brows that spoke of her skepticism.

In the last weeks Rumpelstiltskin had learned that where Belle adored fiction about impossible feats and even less likely heroes, she was a swift judge when a writer added any fancy to a history book.

"Hamelin is the last place Pan visited in the Enchanted Forest. There could be a clue in its history."

Belle looked unsure. "It's a collection of tall tales," she complained. "Look. Here they insist there's a way to control the Dark One. How can I trust anything else they say?"

Rumpelstiltskin struggled between the ingrained need to keep his secret and the even more mandatory need to leave no stone unturned when it came to the recovery of his son. The Dark Curse still needed at least another year before Regina would be in the right state of mind to cast it. On the other hand, Belle's idea could be enacted as soon as she proved it was viable - and as the days passed, that possibility seemed closer.

His dagger was safe, he reasoned at last. If Belle was a plant after all, fishing for the information that would finally allow her to return to her master, he would know for sure.

"Does it happen to mention how they would accomplish this?" he asked softly, aware that giving these news even that much attention proved their legitimacy.

Belle's eyes widened as she also realized this. "What? No." She closed her mouth with a snap and stared at him for a long moment. "They just say it can be done. That an old lord had found a way."

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled. "Oh, he didn't get to grow that old."

Belle inhaled sharply. "I... see."

"No, dearie, you really don't." He gentled his features. The girl looked shocked, not a hint of delight to have finally unearthed a clue as to his weakness. "Shall we leave it there?"

A flash of disappointment passed through her eyes, her thirst of knowledge truncated, but she reined it in and nodded. "Information on Neverland first," she agreed. Then she glanced at him hopefully. "You can tell me all about this once Baelfire is with us."

It was Rumpelstiltskin's turn to stare at her, though he was nodding in reaction at her easy smile before he put actual thought into it. He would have accepted her help on an alternate path to Bae even if he'd known for sure she was Cora in disguise. But the more time she let pass without betraying him, the more he was floored by the realization that her picturing of a future in the Dark Castle was honest. "Yes," he said, his voice slow as he stomped the wonder out of it. "I might at that."

@the-time-lady-sage asked 34 (warm)

Rumpelstiltskin should have been annoyed at the interruption, but the girl had already showed him the platter of cookies, still warm from the oven.

"We can't work all day," she said, smiling. "Want one?"

@of-princes-and-savages asked 55 (walk)

"A carriage bearing coffers of gold, running leisurely through Sherwood Forest." Rumpelstiltskin scoffed. "Might as well walk into a thieves' den!"

"We only need one thief."

"Robin Hood." He sniffed. "Unreliable fellow. You actually think he'll accept?"

Belle nodded. "I helped him reunite with his family. You tell me if that's not worth a favor."

@betweenpaperpages asked 76. (writer)

"Let's say I set you free, for argument's sake..." Rumpelstiltskin loomed closer, hooking a finger under her chin to tilt it up. "Such a clever girl. With that stubborn belief in goodness and selflessness. You're meant to play the hero, dearie; a real one. So why would you come back?"

"Because I'm the writer of my own story," Belle told him, "and no one - not even you - will tell me what role to play."

@joylee56 asked 37 (crowded)

The giant’s presence made the spacious main hall look crowded even with only two other people in it.

“So, we have a deal,” Rumpelstiltskin said, his voice a tense hiss.

Anton clutched the bean, but nodded anyway.

62 (rain)

"At least the rain is the same," Belle said, pulling the curtain to peek outside. The scenery of the street below fascinated her, even without people, with its smooth pavement and the bright lights that weren't doused by the downpour.

She'd read on electricity, but she still asked, "There really is no magic here?"

Rumpelstiltskin played with another vial. "Not until now."

#ar: memory of you

[breaktimewritings]

I Know it’s Today II Oneshot Redux

Rumple is given an odd charm by his aunts. The charm is supposed to connect him to his true happiness. He’s surprised when it’s an odd little princess that’s stuck in a tower that begins talking to him through the stone.

(( I’ve been listening to too much music from the Shrek musical and this happened. Enjoy this fluffly little oneshot~ Re-uploaded with a slight re-write to add more to Belle because I felt the ending was flat. Enjoy~! ))

AO3

Day 23

“Boy, why are you crying?”

The boy let out a startled yelp at the sudden voice. There wasn’t anyone around his Aunt’s house for miles. His aunts were out. He was alone, curled up on the pallet the fire. There was no reason that…

“I’m not crying.” He said immediately, and there was an odd giggle that floated up to his ears.

It was only then that he noticed the stone around his neck was glowing. Raising a brow, he turned it in his hand. It hadn’t looked like anything special when his aunts gave it to him. A jagged stone of white quartz wrapped in a swirl of wire and threaded through a bit of brown twine. They’d bought it from gypsies. Told him it was supposed to connect him to his true happiness. But he’d grown up with tricks. He knew one when he saw it. He didn’t know if his aunts were wise to the con of the gypsies, but he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. He didn’t have Peter Pan anymore. Didn’t have anyone anymore. What little hope he could have was the next best thing.

“I heard your sniffling. And your sobs.” The sweet voice of the stone said. “I only wanted to know what had happened to cause you to be so upset.”

Loneliness. Abandonment. Something no boy his age should ever have to go through. He didn’t say the words aloud, though. “Can you always hear me?”

“No. It only happened just now.” She said. Because he knew she was a she. “Who are you? What’s your name?”

“R-Rumpelstiltskin.” He stammered, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth. “And you?”

“Princess Belle of Avonlea. But you may call me Belle.” The formality in her voice was unmistakable, and the title made Rumpelstiltskin’s body run cold. “It’s nice to meet you, Rumpelstiltskin. I haven’t had a soul to talk to in a long time.”

“How long?”

“Uh…” There was a shuffling of skirts and a few steps. “Twenty-three days.”

“That’s not so long. You’re a princess. I’m sure there’s company in the castle.”

“The only company I have is the dragon that guards me…”

“You’re a prisoner?”

There was a silence for a moment, and Rumpelstiltskin didn’t have the heart to ask more. He wanted to help. To get her talking again. To keep hearing her voice, but that wouldn’t do either. She was a princess. She shouldn’t have been associating with him. What was he? A spinner. And only an apprentice at that. He was nothing. This was all a mistake anyway.

“I should go.”

“What?” She squeaked.

“You’re a princess.” He explained. “And I’m…”

“No. Please.” Belle’s voice sounded desperate, the stone glowing brighter. “I only need some company until he arrives.”

“He?” Rumpelstiltskin echoed.

“That’s what the stories say.” Belle said, the smile back in her voice. That was better. “A princess locked away in a dragon-guarded tower is always saved by a prince. They’re in every story book I read.”

“I see.” Rumpelstiltskin said, settling back into his pallet. An odd sort of easy warmth overtook him that had nothing to do with the fire. If Belle wanted him to stay, he would. He needed to stop talking, though. He’d only mucked that up. And her voice was nice. Nothing bad would come if someone with that pretty a voice. “Can you tell me a story?”

“Of course!” There was another rustling of skirts and he heard a few pages flip. “I’ll read to you until the prince comes. I know it’s today. Let me know when you've settled in.”

That seemed important, so he pulled some blankets to himself to use as a pillow. “Okay. Go on.”

“Once upon a time, there was a princess in a tower…”

She continued, weaving a tale of a princess with long hair captured by a watch. All the while, the stone around his neck continued to glow. Certainly this was a con. There was no way his true happiness was a princess. Her prince would be there soon enough. For now, though, at least he had her voice.

Day 958

“Rumple, what do you look like?”

It had become somewhat of a ritual between the two of them to talk after Rumpelstiltskin was done with his chores in the field. Usually it was at night, when the rest of the ears around him were asleep and he could have time alone with Belle. The stone around his neck hadn't lost its luster as she spoke to him, but sometimes her voice grew sad.

“What do you look like?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, his tone teasing.

“I've told you before.” Belle said, and he could hear a smile in her voice. “Now it’s your turn.”

Well, he supposed he couldn’t argue with that. Belle hadn’t thought it much when she described herself (“I was always told I was quite beautiful, but I’m sure they were just trying to get into the good graces of the princess.”) Brown hair. Blue eyes. An accent that would haunt him forever. Everyone who called her beautiful were no doubt correct. He was sure his looks couldn’t compare.

“Rumple?” Came her voice, questioning.

“My hair is brown, but rougher than yours I’m sure. I’ve been told it’s too long for a man, but it’s not touching my shoulders yet.” He paused, wondering what else he could day. “My eyes are brown. I might be a tad skinny. My nose is too pointy.”

“Is that all?”

“I have a scar over my eye from a sheep.”

“A sheep?”

“I was trying to sheer it. But it had decided it rather liked its wool.”

Belle giggled. “You sound quite handsome.” Rumpelstiltskin gave a snort. “No, really. I’d be surprised if none of the local girls were looking at you. Surely one must have their eye on you.”

“I doubt it.”

“They you must have your eye on one.”

“Well…” Yes. Yes he did. Kind of. He was all but smitten with the princess whose voice came to him from the other side of the stone, but the village was always getting travelers. And there was… “I might.”

Rumple shifted on his palette, sitting up to put another log on the fire. Belle had gone quiet, and he held the stone in his palm, hoping whatever magic that was connecting them hadn’t left them suddenly.

“Well tell me about her.” Belle finally said, though Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t discern anything from her tone.

“Her name is Milah. I don’t know much about her. Her family seems to travel...”

It was by chance they’d met at all, on the road leading into the village. He’d helped her carry her heavy parcel. She was new. Meeting him before hearing the way the village talked about he and his aunts was a good omen. And she smiled at him. That was a good omen too, right?

“Well then. You’d better start courting before they move and your chance is gone!”

“You think I should?”

“Of course!” Belle chirped. “You have a chance at true love. You can’t let that slip through your fingers.”

“What about you?”

The words slipped out before he could stop himself, and he mentally cursed himself. Belle was trapped. A prisoner. As far as he could tell, he was her only escape to the outside world. He settled back onto his palette. She’d gone quiet again. He sighed, wishing he’d just asked for a story like always. Thankfully, Belle’s voice came again.

“My true love will rescue me, remember? It’s going to be today. I know it’s today.”

“Of course it is.” Rumpelstiltskin said, wondering where she was if it was still daylight. Or perhaps it wasn’t. Couldn’t have been. The sun had set hours ago. “He’ll be there any minute.”

“Yes.” Belle paused. “How about a story?”

“Please.” Stories were easy. Stories were safe.

The sound of pages flipping could be heard, and Rumpelstiltskin turned to watch the crackling of the flames in the fireplace as Belle’s voice began flitting over the words.

“Once upon a time, there was a princess in a coma…”

Wherever she was, he thought as her voice lulled him to sleep, he hoped today was indeed the day her true love appeared.

It had to be.

Day 8,423

Belle ran her fingers through her hair as she flipped through the pages of her favorite book again. The candles at her bedside had grown low, and she would have to replace them once again soon. Very soon. Thankfully, the sun was peeking over the horizon, waking the world up for another day. The princess’s gazed along her room as it lit, the small space so familiar her eyes barely registered what she saw. Finally, they fell to the candles on her bedside table, and the small stone on a brown cord that rested there, and for another day she wished and hoped that Rumpelstiltskin was safe.

The stone had been quiet for too long. Longer than Belle wished to admit. Ever since he’d told her one night that he’d been called to the front lines of the ogres war. Belle’s heart had immediately sank. They were able to talk so little then. He’d married Milah. He’d been living a good and happy life. There was nothing but trouble to come from going to the front lines. She knew that better than anyone. But he was so excited about it. So ready to prove himself. Belle had smiled and told him to be careful, and to tell her when he got back. She hoped he’d taken the stone along. She hadn’t shed tears until he was gone. She hadn’t heard from him since.

She couldn’t dwell on that. She had to believe he was fine. He’d come home a hero, just like he wanted. He was happy with his wife and they had children. A son. He’d always wanted a son. And soon she’d be happy too. Her true love would come. He had to. There were rules. There were strictures.

“I know it’s today…” She choked, willing back the sting of tears as she sank onto her bed, her eyes on the stone, willing it to alight with his voice.

It didn’t. It wouldn’t. Perhaps it was time to accept that. Slowly, she brought the stone to her lips, kissing it softly.

“Please…” She whispered, a small sound that filled the room completely. “Please, if you’re alive, please come save me.”

The stone did not stir. Still, Belle tied the cord around her neck anyway. She’d wear it for the rest of her days, a tribute to their time together, no matter how apart they might have been.

She’d left the bed and was looking through her shelves again. Her hand was almost on a book when suddenly the castle shook, and she heard the distant roar of a dragon. Her dragon. As the sound faded the castle grew silent once again. Still. Impossibly still. Then, there was a click of the lock on her door, and it was creaking open.

“Well that was a disappointment.” A voice twittered. “I was expecting more of a challenge from your little dragon, dearie.”

The door swung shut, revealing an odd man standing in the middle of her room. Belle swallowed, her stomach churning slightly. He gave her a toothy grin, and she couldn’t tell is his eyes were welcoming or mocking. He was wearing a vest of dragonhide and a coat with some sort of other fur on it. His hair was almost too long, and his skin almost seemed to sparkle.

“Who are you?” She asked, tilting her head at him. He certainly didn’t seem like a knight, or any of the other heroes in her books. “Why are you here?”

“Why, I heard your call, dearie.” He said, opening his palm to reveal a stone wrapped in wire on a leather cord. Ge gasped, her hand flying to her own, around her neck. “Something about ‘Please, please come save me!’ And it was quite easy to track you down. Communication stones are linked that way.”

Belle’s hands began to tremble, and suddenly nothing else mattered.

“Where did you get that?!” She demanded.

The imp lifted a brow on her. “Why do you care?”

“It doesn’t belong to you! Where did you get it?!”

He remained silent, and Belle stormed up to him, unperturbed by his odd appearance and the magic that crackled around him.

“Where did you get it?”

Her tone bade no argument, though whoever her rescuer was didn’t look happy with it. “They’re a simple communication charm, dearie. I merely procured it on one of my deals.”

Belle blinked at him. “Communication charm?”

“Well of course!” The odd man giggled, twirling the stone before her for a moment before snatching it back into his hand when she tried to make a grab for it. “Simple gypsy charm tying two together. Honestly, you didn’t think it were more than that did you?”

Belle swallowed, her gaze faltering. Her grip on the book became firmer. Because he had believed that. Of course. The necklace was supposed to connect her to her true happiness. That’s what she’d been told. That’s what she believed. That’s what Rumpelstiltskin had believed.

“It’s a genius selling ploy, really.” The odd imp said, turning his back to her. “Use the charm on two rocks and bind them up to look pretty on a necklace.” Belle’s hand came up to clutch hers. “Then sell them off, saying some kind of dribble to give the buyer whatever hope they need. The stone will let them hear what will bring them fame, fortune, true happiness. Then two unsuspecting nitwits spend the rest of their days believing whatever lie they’d been fed, talking endlessly to a rock.”

Belle’s jaw clenched, and she glared at him. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m truthful, dearie.” He said simply, and when he turned back to her his eyes lingered on the stone around her neck. He looked almost...hurt. “Now, did you need help or not?”

“What have you done to him?”

The imp sighed, looking exasperated. “I don’t know who you mean, dearie.”

Rage and hurt and sorrow bubbled up inside Belle’s chest until it broke free, she came forward again, her book lifted ready to strike the imp. “The spinner!” She brought her arm down, but he caught her wrist before the book could strike him and it tumbled to the floor. “My spinner at the other end of the stone!” Belle’s fist came down upon the imp’s chest, her strength leaving her in a sob. When she brought her fist down upon his chest again, it was little more than a tap. “Rumpelstiltskin! The stone was his! What have you done to--?!”

Belle blinked through her watery gaze, her rage wavering as she got a look at the imp. From afar, he looked manic. Mad with whatever dark magic crackled around him like a thundercloud, but from up close. Brown eyes. Odd, inhuman eyes. But brown. Hair that was too long, but not touching his shoulders. A nose that was large and...pointy. All at once, her breath left her.

“Rumpelstiltskin…?”

All of the bravado that the imp had sauntered into the room with left immediately. He let go of her wrist, taking a step away from her. His thin fingers flexed, fidgeting slightly before he finally swallowed.

“Hello Belle.”

She shook her head, her mind reeling. “You’re…”

“It’s quite a long story, dearie. But yes I’m--”

“You’re alive!” Belle cried.

All at once she was hugging him, holding him so tightly he was fairly certain she’d be cutting off airflow if he were any other man. Her body shuddered with another sob, her fingers clutching his coat. He hesitated, but soon she was wrapped in his arms. There. Safe.

The words tumbled out before he could stop himself. “I thought you’d been rescued.”

“No.” Belle said, and when she pulled away to look at him she was smiling, beaming so brightly the rest of the tower came alit. “But I knew I would be. I knew it was today!”

Her smile made him falter. She was so bright. So pure in her absolute faith in him even though he was shouting at her only moments ago. He reached up, wiping a tear away with his thumb. She clung to his hand.

“Did you call me ‘your spinner’ dearie, or were my ears tricking me?”

Belle’s cheeks burned under his touch, and he couldn’t help his grin. She glared up at him, and he was fairly certain she looked even better with annoyance in her firey blue eyes.

“You can hardly hold that against me!”

“Can’t I?”

“What about you?” She asked, her finger coming to poke against his chest. “And all of that nonsense about the stones only being a gypsy charm?”

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. “But they are, Belle.”

Belle blinked, seeming to deflate. “Still. That was cruel.”

“Yes well. I do apologize, my lady.” He brought her hand to her lips to kiss her knuckles. His odd skin glimmered in the light.

“What happened, Rumple?” Belle asked, but quickly shook her head when he looked uncertain. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here. It’s today. It is today isn’t it? Don’t force me to stay here another moment.”

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled, the darkness in him clawing for a deal. It was easy enough to push away.“Yes, dearie. It’s today. Now, let’s get you out of these rags.” He said, kissing her forehead softly, then venturing to kiss the corner of her mouth. “You’ve been locked up long enough.”

#rumbelle fic #ouat fic #rumbelle #breaktimewritings #i rewrote this #hope the ending is better now!

[celticheartedfangirl]

The Doorway -- Rumbelle One Shot . . . . .

Summary:  Rumpelstiltskin finds a way to rescue Baelfire from Neverland, with Belle's unexpected help. Dark Castle time period. This was my second round entry in the @rumbelleshowdown, written under the name 'Desperation and Gin.'

This fic was written BEFORE "Ill Boding Patterns" aired . . . . just FYI because of the Dagger mention . . . . .

The Doorway

Rumpelstiltskin had not expected it to work. He was certain that all of the years he spent searching would culminate in the dark curse; he was certain it was the only way he would be able to find his son.

He should have known better than to believe one word that the blue gnat said. His first trip to the sorcerer was unsuccessful thanks to that insipid little girl who stopped him, but his second trip, after a bit of aggressive persuasion, proved quite fruitful. He'd finally found a way to get Baelfire back from Neverland.

Neverland. He had no idea how his boy had gotten there, or how long he had been there. Rumpelstiltskin wasn't sure which thought was more frightening – facing his son, or facing his father. Either way, he had to do this. Taking a deep breath, Rumpelstiltskin waved the wand that he had acquired from the sorcerer and a doorway appeared.

"Bae," he whispered to himself, "I'm coming to find you, my boy." Just as he was about to open the door, he heard a voice behind him speak up.

"Rumpelstiltskin? What are you doing?" Belle asked.

"What am I doing? Haven't I told you that when I am working I don't want to be bothered by you?" he snapped at his maid.

"I was just wondering what you wanted for dinner," Belle retorted. "What is that?"

"Something that doesn't concern you. Go away."

"That door was never there before. Where does it go? Is – is that a portal?"

"If I wanted you to know what I was doing, I would tell you. Go."

"Well, will you be back for dinner?" Belle asked. Losing his patience with her, Rumpelstiltskin waved his hand and next thing she knew, Belle was standing in the middle of the kitchen. She sighed angrily. "You can cook your own meal tonight then!" she shouted, out loud, to no one, looking up toward the ceiling as she did so.

Rumpelstiltskin stepped through the doorway, and immediately recognized the place – the same place his father abandoned him for all those years ago. With Bae's shawl around his neck, which he had enchanted to serve as a locating device, he was drawn toward a cavern not far from where the portal opened. The young boy was sitting on the ground drawing on the walls of the cavern. "Bae?" Rumpelstiltskin called out. The boy turned around.

"Papa?" Bae responded, stunned to see his father standing in front of him.

"Oh, Bae – oh, I found you, son! It's really you!" Rumpelstiltskin moved toward Bae, who cowered back in fear.

"This is a trick. You're playing a trick on me Pan, I know you!"

"No – no, Bae, it's not a trick, it's really me. Here – here, I want you to have this." He took out his dagger and offered it to Baelfire. "I trust you, Bae. I trust you with this." Bae looked down at the dagger and started to cry.

"Papa? Is it really you?"

"It's me. It's really me, Bae. Go on – take it."

"No – no I don't want that."

"Bae – don't you understand? I want to be better for you, Bae. I want you to make me better."

"If you loved me, you wouldn't need me to make you better. You would have trusted me, you would have gone with me through that portal, Papa! You haven't changed at all."

"Yes I have. I swear Bae, I have changed. Please – just come back with me, and I'll show you."

"Back? I don't want to go back there with you!" Bae shouted at him.

"You heard the boy – he's quite happy right where he is," Peter Pan said as he entered the cavern. "Hello, Laddie," he said as he eyed Rumpelstiltskin up and down.

"Bae, please – I want to get you away from him." Rumpelstiltskin begged his son.

"Now, Laddie – you can trust me with young Baelfire here. I'd never do anything to harm him." Peter Pan taunted. "If Baelfire wants to go back with you – I'll let him." Pan turned to Bae. "So – Baelfire – were you happy with your father?"

"We used to be," Bae said.

"Well – perhaps you could be again. Let's just see how much your father has changed, shall we? Felix! Bring her in!" Felix entered the cavern, holding Belle prisoner in his tight grip as he did so. "You really shouldn't leave portals lying around, Rumple. Anyone can go through them."

"Rumpelstiltskin, I didn't, I swear – he came, he took me!" Belle screamed.

"Papa, who is she?" Bae asked.

"Oh, this is your father's maid – pretty little thing, isn't she? Would you like to know how your father acquired her? He won her in a deal." Rumpelstiltskin glared at Pan. "What, you think I haven't been keeping an eye on you, Laddie?"

"Let her go," Rumpelstiltskin demanded.

"Oh, I'll gladly let both of them go, Rumple. There's just – one little thing I want. Give me your dagger." A look of shock came across Rumpelstiltskin's face. "You do realize that magic comes with a price, right Rumple? Either they die – or you do. Which will it be?" Rumpelstiltskin glanced at his son, then at Belle, and he slowly moved toward Pan, holding out the dagger.

"Let them go – then you can have it," he demanded. Rumpelstiltskin looked up at Belle again. "Please look after my son," he pleaded to her. Belle saw a tear fall down his cheek, and she was moved to tears herself. Rumpelstiltskin turned to Bae. "Bae – I've never stopped looking for you, and I've never stopped loving you. I'm so sorry, son. I'm so very sorry."

"Let her go, Felix," Pan motioned to his minion, and Felix released Belle from his grip.

"I want to see them leave safely," Rumpelstiltskin insisted.

"Quite demanding, aren't we Rumple?" Pan taunted. "Very well." Just as they started to move, Belle darted toward Rumpelstiltskin, grabbed the dagger out of his hand, and stabbed Pan in the shoulder. Pan let out a loud scream.

"Go! Run away!" Belle ordered Rumpelstiltskin while she was holding the dagger, and he had no choice but to obey.

"You foolish girl!" Pan shouted. "You'll pay for that!" Just as Pan moved to grab her, Belle shouted, "Rumpelstiltskin! Save your son and save me!" Belle and Bae both vanished before Pan's eyes, and next thing they knew they were standing in front of the portal with Rumpelstiltskin. He opened the portal and pushed them both through it, then went through the door himself. Once they were safely back in the dark castle, Rumpelstiltskin destroyed the portal.

"Papa – she saved you," Bae said, smiling at Belle.

"Yes – she did," he replied in agreement. Belle looked down at the dagger still in her hand.

"Here – this is yours," Belle said quietly as she handed the dagger back to him.

"You – you want me to have it back?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"I don't want to control you – I just – wanted to help. Now – are you going to tell me what you want for dinner or should I just guess?" Belle teased, then she looked at Bae. "By the way – I'm Belle. It's very nice to meet you, um -"

"Baelfire," Bae replied. "It's nice to meet you, too."

"You know, I um – I think the two of you would probably like to be alone for a bit, so – I'll just go up to my library and read. When you decide what you want for dinner, let me know." Belle headed up the stairs. She turned and smiled at him as she reached the top – and he smiled back. Baelfire couldn't help but notice.

"You have changed," Bae said to him, and he ran into Rumpelstiltskin's arms and hugged him. "I missed you, Papa."

"Oh, I missed you too, son. I missed you so very much. We have so much time to make up for. Come on – let's go see your room, you can arrange it however you like."

"Papa, are you gonna tell her that you love her?" Bae asked as they walked up the stairs.

"Who?"

"Belle! You love her – I can see it. And she loves you too."

"Of course she doesn't, Bae – how could she? How could a beautiful girl like that ever love a beast like me?" Belle peeked out from her door as she secretly watched them turn the corner when they reached the top of the stairs, and she smiled to herself. He did love her – now she just had to find a way to make him see that she felt the same. Perhaps if she simply took him by surprise and kissed him . . . . what would he do if she did that, she wondered . . . . . .

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #papafire #floof family

[lotus0kid]

Happy 5th anniversary!!!! 🎆🎆🎉I have a prompt, Belle is pregnant and while out on a date( or just out of their house) with her husband Rumple, her water breaks.

OUaT: Anniversary Fic the 12th

((Thanks for prompting!  Hope this works for you.))

“Are you warm enough?”

 It must be the sixth time he’s asked, but Belle’s endlesspatience allows her to reply, “Perfectly.”

 Rumpel still peers over the top of her head at the smallspace heater placed on the back porch, where they sit beneath a blanket ofstars.  It’s growing colder at thebeginning of October, but he’ll do whatever it takes to allow Belle tocomfortably venture out into the open, breathe fresh air and feel the wideworld around her.  She’s been in far toomany cages.

Moderately assured that all is well, he settles beside her,curling his arm a little more firmly around her shoulders.  His other hand hovers near her hip.  Without even looking, she catches his wristand lays his hand over her round belly. An automatic smile lights Rumpel’s face, even as an undercurrent of fearcontinues to flow, whispering that this won’t last, it’s too wonderful, it’llget snatched away, he’ll ruin it, just wait and see.  He draws in and releases a deep breath, anddrowns the whispers in a bath of stars.

 A cloud sails by and slowly reveals a shining crescentmoon.  Beside him, Belle lets out a smallhum.

 “What are you thinking about?” he asks, filled withcuriosity.

 “Just an old story, from home.  About where stars come from.”

 “Yes?”

 “They’re the children of Umera, the goddess of night.  She places them in a cradle, which is thecrescent moon.  When the moon grows full,they go out into the sky, as stars.”

 “A child every month, that’s a large family.  Is there a father?”

 Belle smiles and dips her chin.  “Yes. Vinaos, the god of the day.” Belle turns to fix her eyes on Rumpel. “He brings light to Umera’s darkness.”

 Beneath Rumpel’s hand, he feels the tap of a tiny kickingfoot.  He grins, “I think the little onelikes that story.”

 Belle’s chuckle is full of warmth and love as she pressesher hand over Rumpel’s.  “Not long beforewe get to meet them.”

 “No, not long.”

 Belle rests her head on Rumpel’s shoulder, and they wait forthe future to arrive together.

 ---

 Rumor has it that Rumpelstiltskin is working on some new objectof terrible dark magic.  The shop hasn’tbeen open for days, though a brave soul snuck around back and peeked through awindow to see him bent over his arcane work. The spy could only say it seemed to be made of black fabric and that hewas sewing something into it with fierce concentration.  It was decided that no move would be madeagainst the sorcerer, not yet.

 Currently, said sorcerer is having a cup of tea and readinga book one evening when his wife returns from the library.  At this point in Belle’s pregnancy, Rumpel isready to beg her to stay home, but she simply promises not to do any heavylifting and goes her own way.  He mustadmit that the library is her first child, and she will care for it as long asshe’s able.

 She joins him on the couch and holds out a small rectangleof stiff paper.  “Look what Snow droppedoff today.”

 It’s an invitation to a Halloween party, Rumpel reads.  “Well,” he says, “I’m not sure why shethought you’d be interested in a party that late in the month.  Or that shewould, for that matter.”  Thequeen-turned-bandit-turned-teacher has already had one child and will soon bewelcoming her second, so she ought to know better.  She and Belle have actually bonded somewhatduring their nearly concurrent pregnancies. Rumpel and David have tried not to make much eye-contact with eachother.

 He looks at Belle, but doesn’t find the agreement heexpects.  “What if I am interested?” sheinquires.

 Feeling metaphorical tremors in the ground below his feet,he swiftly replies, “Then I’d say have a lovely time, dear.”

 It’s not the correct answer. Her face falls into a pout, “You wouldn’t come with me?”

 “I, well, that is...” Rumpel sputters, “No one’s ever beenhappy when I’ve turned up at a party.”

 “And they never will if you don’t try,” Belle counters,“We’re all in this together now, Rumpel, we need to make an effort to geton.  Besides that, Snow and David arefamily now, thanks to Henry.  Can I writeyou down as my guest?”

 Well, if nothing else, Belle’s looming due date must betaken into consideration.  He’ll likelybe a bundle of nerves, but he won’t leave his wife’s side.  “Of course you can, sweetheart.”

 Belle gives him a brilliant beam, only for it to quicklyfade.  “Hm, well, now I have to think ofa costume.  Gods, what would evenfit?”  She gestures at her ponderousabdomen.

 “Actually, about that... Hang on.”

 He climbs to his feet and heads for his office to fetch the gifthe luckily just finished today.  He’sspent hours upon hours fussing over it- it’s probably for the best he can giveit to her now.  He strides back to theliving room and sits down, presenting Belle’s gift with a flourish.

 Her mouth falls open as she carefully takes the black dressfrom him.  “Rumpel, this is amazing,” shebreathes as her fingertips explore the minutely detailed embroidery of acrescent moon that decorates the stomach area of the dress.  Every crater, mare, and rill is represented,until all fades into shadow.

 “I did what I could,” he replies humbly, “I liked your starstory too.”  He leans over to kissBelle’s cheek, only to find it wet with streaming tears.

 At his concerned hum, she gives him a wide if waterysmile.  “It’s so beautiful, Rumpel.  Thank you.” She leans in for a kiss he is happy to collect, despite the tang ofsalt.  Then she’s levering herself offthe sofa and marching away, tossing over her shoulder, “I’m trying it on rightnow.”

 Rumpel holds his breath until she returns, then lets it outin a sigh of relief as he sees the dress’s perfect fit, especially in thedecoration, which cradles the curve of Belle’s stomach on the lower right side.  “I love it!” she cries, spinning to make theskirt flare around her thighs.  Then shepauses and faces Rumpel.  “What aboutyour costume?  Vinaos might be a littleobscure.”

 “Not to worry,” he replies. A purple cloud bubbles up in his hands and dissolves to reveal anastronaut’s helmet, complete with a visor coated with opaque gold.  He puts it on and flicks the visor down,hiding his face.  “In case anyone getsannoying,” he explains.

 Belle giggles even as she shakes her head at him, then goes totake off her new costume and put it away until it’s needed.

 ---

 The final few weeks before Belle’s due date are even worsethan Rumpel imagined.  He hardly sleeps,which is more of a problem than he anticipated. Back home where the Dark Curse is strong it sustains his everyneed.  Out here amidst the imported magicof Storybrooke, he needs to help it along. But that’s becoming steadily more difficult as the days go by, and thevicious whispers command him to be on guard every second for someto-be-determined doom.

 Belle is restless as well, but in a surly, frustrated wayRumpel knows he can’t begin to understand. He does catch her whispering furiously at her stomach, “Get out, justget out, I know you’re ready, so get on with it!”

 By the time Snow and David’s Halloween party rolls around,Belle’s raring to go just to burn off excess energy.  Rumpel is too addled from lack of sleep to domore than trail after her in his astronaut helmet and a gray jumpsuit.

 They’re fashionably late mostly because of Belle’s two emergencybathroom visits.  When they reach theapartment building, she marches stolidly up the stairs, though she needs torest on Rumpel’s arm halfway up.

 “If you’re tired...” he begins, stopping when Belle giveshim a severe glare she belatedly twists into a smile.

 “I want to do this. Let’s go.”

 They make it to the landing, where Belle takes a long momentto collect herself before pushing the doorbell. The door soon swings open to reveal Snow White wearing a ring of brownfrills around her hips with her belly painted robin’s egg blue complete withspeckles on top.  Her jumper has a row offeathers down each arm and a construction paper bird’s beak is tied over hernose.  She smiles wide and cries, “Belle,you made it!  Come in!”  That smile shrinks as her gaze moves overBelle’s shoulder and lands on Rumpel.  “Oh,hello, Rumpelstiltskin.  Thank you forcoming.”

 As if she never locked him in a subterranean prison andthrew away the key.  As if he neverconspired with her greatest enemy to ruin her happy ending.  Life is a funny thing.  “Good evening,” he responds, and sidles inbehind Belle.

 “I love your costume,” Snow exclaims at Belle, “The moon,that’s so great, why didn’t I think of that?”

 Belle finds a true smile as she looks down at herdress.  “Rumpel made it.”

 “Oh,” Snow says, a shadow flickering over her face beforeshe brightens again, “Oh!  Okay, so that’s...  Anyway, this detail is amazing.  What kind of spell does that?”

 “My two hands, dearie,” Rumpel can’t help sniping, “You knowI can actually breathe without using magic, if I concentrate.”

 Snow shrinks back with wide eyes and a pinched mouth.  Belle gives him a very subtle jab in theribs.  “Rumpel, she’s being nice.”

 It’s always been his opinion that Snow being “nice” is halfher problem, but he clears his throat and says, “Indeed.  Apologies. And thank you.”

 “You’re welcome.  I,uh, I sewed this too.”  She plucks at abit of brown frills.

 He has to smile at the tiny gleam of hope in her eyes, anddeigns to look over her handiwork.  “Verynice,” he decides.

 Snow beams, “Thanks. So, anyway, we’re all in here, really informal, just family.  There’s snacks, and wine and beer, andsparking apple juice for the two of us...”

 She leads Belle and Rumpel toward the living room area,where the sofa and a few chairs are occupied by David, Emma, Regina, andBae.  Agonizing though it’s been, Rumpelhas given Bae total control over how much contact to have with him.  They see each other fairly regularly, thoughboth are naturally preoccupied with their unique fatherly duties.  It still feels like a miracle to see Bae turnto him and smile- not as warm and bright as before, but an unspeakably vastimprovement to the ragged hole he left in Rumpel’s life for so long.

 When Rumpel can expand his attention beyond Bae, he findssmiles of varying degrees of friendliness all around the room directed at himand Belle.  Wearing his own featheryjumper and bird beak, David says, “Hi, guys! Great costumes!”“Yes!” Snow chimes in, “Isn’t Belle’s great? With the black fabric and the sewing?”

 There’s a round of thoughtful nods Rumpel chooses not tointerpret.  Emma scoots closer to Reginato let Belle sit at the far end of the sofa. David sets a chair for Rumpel between Belle and Bae.

 “Thank you,” he says as he sits, and notices Bae eyeing himfrom beneath a Yankees cap.

 He twists the grip of a lowered baseball bat between hispalms and murmurs, “Please tell me you aren’t wearing a suit under there.”

 The fact that Bae knows how he customarily dresses is enoughto make Rumpel’s heart glow.  He gives hisson a smirk and quips, “Just a linen, very light.”

 Bae snorts into his chest and Rumpel feels like a hero.  It’s somewhat easier after that to sit andchat a bit, or just listen to the conversations floating around him.  Snow hands out ghost-shaped biscuits andpumpkin cupcakes.  Rumpel actuallyrelaxes a little, even finds his eyes drifting shut a bit.

 “Okay, everyone!” Snow’s cheery declaration startles him tofull awareness.  Belle shoots him anamused look as Snow continues, “I was thinking to wrap up our evening, we mightwatch a scary movie.  How’s that sound?”

 “Fine, as long as it isn’t Rosemary’s Baby,” Regina replies, painted cat’s whiskers curling asshe sneers in Belle’s direction.

 “As long as it isn’t TheWicker Man,” Emma retorts before Rumpel can take Regina’s head off with afireball.  She adjusts her cowboy hat andleans back so light glints on the silver star pinned to her plaid shirt.

 “I was gonna go with Jaws,”Snow pipes up.

 “That’s barely ahorror movie,” Regina says, “But it’s acceptable.”

 “Why thank you, Your Majesty,” David mutters on his way tothe television.

 Belle leans over to Rumpel and whispers, “Do I even want toknow?”

 “Ignore her, sweetheart,” he replies, lacing his fingerswith Belle’s firmly.

 “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

 He winces, remembering that while Snow and David haveapparently forgiven and forgotten Regina’s wide array of sins, neither of themlanguished as her prisoner for years on end. And Belle wouldn’t have, if you’dbothered to look for her.  Ah, that’sright.  Rumpel’s sins make Regina’s looklike the mischief of a playground bully. And yet Belle, the best person he knows, has willingly become his wife,and the mother of his child.  Life is sovery funny.

 While Sheriff Brody is attempting to save his picturesquetown from a killer shark, Rumpel feels Belle’s fingers tense sharply betweenhis.  He glances at her and sees she hasher other hand pressed to her stomach.  “Belle,are you all right?” he whispers.

 “I’m... fine.  I justneed to use the toilet.  Help me up?”

 He leaps to guide Belle off the sofa.

 “Excuse me, sorry,” she murmurs to the rest of the group asshe eases out and down the hall to the bathroom.

 Rumpel takes his seat, but watches her go with worrychurning his stomach.  Eventually hemanages to refocus on the film.  He’salmost comprehending dialogue again when Belle’s cry of “RUMPEL!” strikes hisbrain like a bolt of lightning.  He’s atthe bathroom in a literal flash.  “Belle,I’m here, open the door.”

 For an awful moment there’s nothing but a low, torturedmoan.  Then the door cracks open.  He pushes it open to see Belle hunched over,gripping the sink with a puddle of liquid between her feet.  She gives him a tremulous, agonized smile andsays, “Oops.”

 “Okay,” Rumpel breathes, attempting to force his paralyzedbrain into functioning.  “We need... toget to the car.”

 Dismay fills Belle’s face, “Oh, I don’t know if I can do thestairs ag- AH!”  Her body tenses hard andRumpel imagines if she were any stronger she’d tear chunks out of thesink.  All he can do is lay careful handson her arm and back and let her lean into him until it passes.

 “Belle, we need to be home,” he tries to explain, “That wasthe plan, wasn’t it?”  Quite honestly, atthis moment he has no idea what their plan was, despite the hours of work thatwent into it.  He holds up his hands andpurple smoke starts to swirl around them. “Can I just-?”

 “No magic!” she cries, “Not now, I don’t want to travel likethat, when I’m like this.  Please?”

 The smoke vanishes under her desperate gaze.  “Of course, but...  I just...” He glances around and notices the group of people standing four feetaway, staring like this is another scene in the film.

 Snow steps forward, slipping past Rumpel and moving toBelle’s side.  “I guess the baby isn’t afan of Richard Dreyfus, huh?” she remarks gently.

 “Who?” Belle asks, but another contraction steals Snow’sanswer as she moans louder than ever and doubles over.

 “Okay, it’s okay, just keep breathing...” Snow murmurs asshe rubs Belle’s back.  To Rumpel, shesays, “So, poofing her home is out and the stairs are a problem.  What does that leave us?”

 “How about the tub?” Emma suggests, peering over Rumpel’shead.  “Like a water birth.”

 The words snap Rumpel’s brain back into action.  “Yes! That was the plan.  Good.  Belle, w-?”

 “Let’s do that!”Belle wails.

 With a great sweep of his arm, Snow’s narrow tub is replacedby a wide, deep Jacuzzi filled up three-quarters with warm water.

 “Wow,” Snow briefly marvels, “Okay, yeah, great.  Belle, let’s get you, uh... Oh, hey, I thinkwe need a little privacy now, please?”

 To Rumpel’s surprise, Regina turns to the rest of the partyand declares in her most imperious tone, “All right, gawkers, back off. Rumpeland Snow only, let’s give them some space, come on.”  She herds Bae, Emma, and David back down thehall.

 Snow says to Belle, “We’ll get you in the tub soon,okay?  It’ll be nice and warm and you canrelax.  Let’s take off these shoes, andget out of the underwear- just lean on Rumpel, that’s fine...”

 While Snow does the necessaries, Belle’s head droops towardhis shoulder, only to bump against the bloody astronaut helmet he only just nowrealizes he’s still wearing.  “Sorry,sweetheart,” he mumbles, banishing the thing to oblivion where it belongs.  Belle presses her damp forehead into thecurve of his neck, and he smooths a hand over her hair.

 “Okay, we probably want to get that lovely dress offtoo.  Rumpel, if you could unzip theback?”

 They ease Belle out of her costume.  In a moment of whimsy, Rumpel sends it tohang over the curtain rod by the tub where she’ll be able to see the crescentmoon.  He also replaces Belle’s bra witha softer bikini top.  With one last wavehe replaces Snow’s costume with dark blue nurse’s scrubs.  She shoots him a startled look, but wiselysays nothing.  They don’t quite manage toget Belle into the tub before the next contraction hits, and she sags betweenhim and Snow with another bone-deep groan.

 “Almost there, Belle,” Snow croons, “A few more steps- canyou take a few more steps?”

 “I... okay...” she whimpers.

 “I’m here, love,” Rumpel says, “Come on, follow me.”

 They inch up a smooth ramp to the edge of the tub where itparts into a short stairwell.  Bellesighs as soon as her foot enters the water. Snow has her sit on the edge and part her legs so she can take a look atwhat’s going on.

 Holding Belle steady against his chest, Rumpel asks Snow, “Youdo have a fairly clear idea of what you’re doing, yes?”

 “Sure.  I’ve done thisbefore, albeit from Belle’s end, and anyway we’ve been sharing all ourbooks.  I knew she was leaning toward awater birth.  Really, they’re so natural,as long as there aren’t any complications my job’s basically just to standthere and catch.”

 “And if there are- complications?”  Even thinking the word sets off sirens in hishead.

 Snow looks him in the eye, “How about you go and call yourmidwife now, just in case?”

 Cursing himself for not thinking of that sooner, Rumpelgently shifts Belle into Snow’s waiting arms and steps away from the tub andout of the bathroom.  It takes a specialperson to even consider delivering the Dark One’s child, but Mistress Oggseemed downright cheerful about the idea when their paths crossed at thehospital.  She seems cheerful about mostthings, but Rumpel and Belle detected a core of iron in the old woman that wasencouraging enough to bring her on.

 Once he fumbles his way through phoning her, it takesseveral rings and a strange burst of static until a voice sings out, “Coo-eee,Rum, how are things?”  Mistress Ogg’svoice sounds a bit distant, perhaps he’s on speakerphone.  Mountain wind whistles down the line.

 “Belle’s in labor,” he replies shortly while Snow sneaks outaround him and walks down the hall.

 “Ah, a bit early but not bad.  How quick are the contractions coming then?”

 “I... I’ve no idea.” He curses himself once more for letting panic conquer him so completely.

 “To be expected,” Mistress Ogg says breezily.  “I’ll be on the road then.  Could be a little while though, I’ve a longway to go.  She’s in the water now?”

 Rumpel wonders just how far away she can be in Storybrooke,but regardless pokes his head into the bathroom to see Belle leaning back withher arms laid along the edge of the tub, eyes closed, face pale but calm.  “Yes, she is. And we’re not at home.  We’re ata... a friend’s place.”

 “Right, I see.  Bethere as quick as I can, love, not to fret.” She hangs up before Rumpel can give her Snow’s address.  He’s about to call again when a small cryfrom the bathroom has him stuffing his mobile into a pocket and rushing toBelle’s side.  She grips the edges of thetub with her face twisted into a grimace. Rumpel sits behind her and smooths his palms down her tense arms.  “Deep breaths, love,” he reminds her softly.

 Belle drags in and blows out air at a slow, even pace.  She relaxes as the contraction passes.

 “Mistress Ogg is on her way.”

 “Good.”

 “How are you?”

 “Better, now.”  She tiltsher head back and peers up at him to murmur, “Sorry about this.  I know we wanted to be at home.”

 Rumpel just smiles and cradles the back of Belle’s head inhis palm.  “This is perfectly fine, sweetheart.  We’re... we’re with family.”

 That wins him a smile. He dips a hand in the water to check its temperature, stirring in a bitmore heat.  Belle hums and takes a fewmore deep breaths.  Her gaze wanders tothe hanging dress and she inquires dreamily, “We still like the name Lucy,right?”

 They considered every option in the book, and in severalother books, and that was a particularly strong contender.  Though they opted not to learn the genderbeforehand, as her due date has neared Belle’s become thoroughly convincedshe’s having a girl.  “I like it if youdo.”

 “How about Estelle as a middle name?”

 A corner of Rumpel’s mouth curls up.  “Lucille Estelle.”

 “Our starlight.”

 He bends down to kiss the top of Belle’s head.  “Sounds perfect to me.”

 All that’s really left to do is wait.  As the contractions quicken, Snow returns tolift Belle back onto the edge of the tub and check her readiness.

 “I... I feel like I might need to push,” Belle whimpers,twisting clenched fists in Rumpel’s jumpsuit.

 “Well, I think that’s because you need to push,” Snowreplies, “I can see the head.”

 Belle lets out an anxious moan, “But Mistress Ogg isn’there- ah!  I have topush!”

 “Okay, come back in the water, here we go...”  Snow and Rumpel guide Belle into the tub andlet her position herself kneeling with her elbows braced on the edge.

 Snow crouches behind her in the tub while Rumpel comes toface Belle on the outside, letting her grab his hands in a vice grip.  “It’s too soon,” she whispers, “What ifsomething’s wrong?”

 Rumpel rests his forehead against hers.  “Then we’ll handle it.  Everything will be fine, Belle, Ipromise.”  In this moment, despite allevidence, he actually believes that.

 Belle manages a tiny smile before it contorts into a grimaceand her whole body strains.  After amoment, Snow announces, “The head is out! I don’t feel an umbilical cord. Let’s work on the shoulders now.”

 “It hurts...” Belle grits out.

 “I know, but keep going, you’ll get through it soon.”

 “You can do this, sweetheart,” Rumpel murmurs, “I’m righthere with you.  I love you.”

 Belle’s eyes lock on his and don’t break contact even as shegroans and pushes with all her strength. Somewhere far away, Snow says one shoulder is out.  Belle’s groan intensifies into a powerfulbellow.  “That’s it!” Snow cries just asthe bellow stops and Belle’s left panting and trembling, her head falling toRumpel’s shoulder.

 Rumpel looks in wonder as Snow gently lifts a tiny, wrinkly,squirming creature out of the water.  Shewipes at its nose and mouth, it wriggles a little more and releases a plaintivewail.  Belle’s whole body shudders at thesound and she lets out a sob.

 “It’s a girl, Rumpelstiltskin,” Snow says with a beam, “Aperfect little girl.”

 “She- she’s... okay?” he quavers, halfway to sobbinghimself.

 “Seems like it,” Snow replies, wincing a bit at anotherrather piercing cry from the baby, “Let’s have her meet Mom, huh?”

 Rumpel helps Belle carefully turn over.  She’s still shaking, but her arms are steadyas Snow places the baby in them.  Thewailing stops instantly as she snuggles into Belle’s chest.

 “She is perfect,” Rumpel whispers in awe, his chin onBelle’s shoulder.

 “Hello, Lucy,” Belle murmurs, “How nice to meet you.”

 “Our starlight.”

 Minutes or perhaps days later, someone bustles into thebathroom saying, “Cheer-o, ducks!  Lookslike the little mite beat me to the punch. Let’s see what’s left for me to do.” Mistress Ogg makes quick work of tying off and cutting the umbilicalcord.  “There now, how about we have thehappy da bundle up his girl while the afterbirth comes?”

 Rumpel has never wanted to do anything more, or been soafraid to do it.  Belle shifts Lucy intohis arms like she’s made of glass. Mistress Ogg pops off her boots and socks and climbs into the tub whileSnow lays out a clean, soft towel on the floor. Rumpel kneels down and lays Lucy on it, where she immediately frowns andsquirms against the cold.  “Don’t worry,dearest, I’m here,” he whispers while wrapping her up snugly, “There you are, safeand sound.”

 He picks her up and holds her to his chest before moving tosit on the closed toilet seat.  They gazeat each other with tired eyes.  When hersslip shut, he manages to tear his own away and notice Bae standing outside thebathroom, looking more like a nervous teenager than Rumpel would think possible.

 “Baelfire, would you like to meet your sister?”

 His eyebrows jump and he stuffs his hands into his pockets,but he pads into the room and hunches over to grin down at the baby.

 “This is Lucille Estelle Gold.  You can call her Lucy.”

 “Hey, Lucy.  I’m Bae.  Or Baelfire. Or Neal.  Or whatever.”  He and Rumpel chuckle quietly.  Lucy’s eyes crack open and blink a few timesbefore closing again.  “She’s beautiful,Papa.  I can’t believe I’m a bigbrother.”

 “Life is very, very funny, son.”

 Mistress Ogg has drained the tub, swathed Belle in a severaltowels, and delivered the afterbirth before she suggests Lucy try nursing.  Rumpel carries the baby to Belle, and eventhough she seemed quite deeply asleep, she latches on to her mother’s breastquickly.

 “Hungry one, isn’t she?” Mistress Ogg remarks, “That’sfine.  She doesn’t like wasting time, weknow that much.”

 After a while, Belle lets Rumpel perform some very gentlehealing magic so she can get out of the tub at last.  He transforms her bikini top into a looseblack dress that shimmers with silver and blue sparkles.  Her original dress gets bundled up and pushedinto a pocket of Rumpel’s jumpsuit.  Hekeeps one arm firmly wrapped around her waist as they leave the bathroom, Lucyheld close to Belle’s chest.  They findthe rest of the party sitting at the kitchen table, looking on curiously.

 A wide smile stretches across David’s face before he all butbounds over to them.  “What a night,huh?  Are you all okay?”

 “We’re fine,” Belle replies, “Lucy, this is Prince David,your...” Her gaze jumps to the ceiling as she puzzles out the family tree, “Nephew’sother grandfather.”  Emma and Regina havestood and come to flank David.  Belle’sgaze moves over them as she says, “And that’s Princess Emma, your nephew’smother.  And- Regina, his other mother.”

 Emma peers over David’s shoulder and smiles warmly, butdoesn’t seems too interested in getting closer. Regina gives Lucy a smile as well, this one more wistful thananything.  “What a sweet little girl,”she says, her voice softer than Rumpel’s ever heard it.

 “We’ll be going home now, I think,” Belle says, heading tothe door where Snow stands.  “Thank you,”she tells her, “I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

 “Anything you want is yours, Snow,” Rumpel says, “And I domean anything.”

 “Oh, no, please, it was the least I could do...” sheinstantly demurs, up until she bites her lip and mutters, “Can we keep thetub?”

 Rumpel snorts. “Yes.  And you can send me thewater bill.”

 “Deal.  Thanks forcoming to my little party, guys.”

 “We had a... an interesting time,” Belle saysdiplomatically.  Rumpel snickers, thenguides his wife and daughter through the door as Snow holds it open.  Mistress Ogg follows, coming along to helpthem settle in at home.  The small familyheads into the future together.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #fanfiction #once upon a time #poca-staks

[rumbelleshowdown]

The Doorway

by Desperation and Gin

Prompts: Running away, If you loved me, We used to be

Author's note:  This is a totally canon-divergent, "what if Rumple found a way to save Baelfire when Belle was around" thing . . . . also, thank you for your votes in Round 1!

Rumpelstiltskin had not expected it to work. He was certain that all of the years he spent searching would culminate in the dark curse; he was certain it was the only way he would be able to find his son.  

He should have known better than to believe one word that the blue gnat said. His first trip to the sorcerer was unsuccessful thanks to that insipid little girl who stopped him, but his second trip, after a bit of aggressive persuasion, proved quite fruitful. He’d finally found a way to get Baelfire back from Neverland. 

Neverland. He had no idea how his boy had gotten there, or how long he had been there. Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t sure which thought was more frightening – facing his son, or facing his father. Either way, he had to do this. Taking a deep breath, Rumpelstiltskin waved the wand that he had acquired from the sorcerer and a doorway appeared.  

“Bae,” he whispered to himself, “I’m coming to find you, my boy.”  Just as he was about to open the door, he heard a voice behind him speak up. 

“Rumpelstiltskin?  What are you doing?” Belle asked.  

“What am I doing?  Haven’t I told you that when I am working I don’t want to be bothered by you?” he snapped at his maid.  

“I was just wondering what you wanted for dinner,” Belle retorted.  “What is that?” 

“Something that doesn’t concern you.  Go away.” 

“That door was never there before.  Where does it go?  Is – is that a portal?” 

“If I wanted you to know what I was doing, I would tell you.  Go.” 

“Well, will you be back for dinner?” Belle asked.  Losing his patience with her, Rumpelstiltskin waved his hand and next thing she knew, Belle was standing in the middle of the kitchen.  She sighed angrily.  “You can cook your own meal tonight then!” she shouted, out loud, to no one, looking up toward the ceiling as she did so.  

Rumpelstiltskin stepped through the doorway, and immediately recognized the place – the same place his father abandoned him for all those years ago.  With Bae’s shawl around his neck, which he had enchanted to serve as a locating device, he was drawn toward a cavern not far from where the portal opened.  The young boy was sitting on the ground drawing on the walls of the cavern.  “Bae?” Rumpelstiltskin called out.  The boy turned around. 

“Papa?” Bae responded, stunned to see his father standing in front of him.  

“Oh, Bae – oh, I found you, son!  It’s really you!”  Rumpelstiltskin moved toward Bae, who cowered back in fear.  

“This is a trick.  You’re playing a trick on me Pan, I know you!”  

“No – no, Bae, it’s not a trick, it’s really me.  Here – here, I want you to have this.”  He took out his dagger and offered it to Baelfire.  “I trust you, Bae.  I trust you with this.”  Bae looked down at the dagger and started to cry.  

“Papa?  Is it really you?”  

“It’s me.  It’s really me, Bae.  Go on – take it.” 

“No – no I don’t want that.” 

“Bae – don’t you understand?  I want to be better for you, Bae.  I want you to make me better.” 

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t need me to make you better.  You would have trusted me, you would have gone with me through that portal, Papa!  You haven’t changed at all.” 

“Yes I have.  I swear Bae, I have changed.  Please – just come back with me, and I’ll show you.”  

“Back?  I don’t want to go back there with you!”  Bae shouted at him.  

“You heard the boy – he’s quite happy right where he is,” Peter Pan said as he entered the cavern.  “Hello, Laddie,” he said as he eyed Rumpelstiltskin up and down.  

“Bae, please – I want to get you away from him.” Rumpelstiltskin begged his son. 

“Now, Laddie – you can trust me with young Baelfire here.  I’d never do anything to harm him.” Peter Pan taunted.  “If Baelfire wants to go back with you – I’ll let him.” Pan turned to Bae.  “So – Baelfire – were you happy with your father?”  

“We used to be,” Bae said.  

“Well – perhaps you could be again.  Let’s just see how much your father has changed, shall we?  Felix!  Bring her in!” Felix entered the cavern, holding Belle prisoner in his tight grip as he did so.  “You really shouldn’t leave portals lying around, Rumple.  Anyone can go through them.” 

“Rumpelstiltskin, I didn’t, I swear – he came, he took me!” Belle screamed.  

“Papa, who is she?” Bae asked. 

“Oh, this is your father’s maid – pretty little thing, isn’t she?  Would you like to know how your father acquired her?  He won her in a deal.”  Rumpelstiltskin glared at Pan.  “What, you think I haven’t been keeping an eye on you, Laddie?”  

“Let her go,” Rumpelstiltskin demanded.  “Oh, I’ll gladly let both of them go, Rumple.  There’s just – one little thing I want.  Give me your dagger.”  A look of shock came across Rumpelstiltskin’s face.  “You do realize that magic comes with a price, right Rumple?  Either they die – or you do.  Which will it be?”  Rumpelstiltskin glanced at his son, then at Belle, and he slowly moved toward Pan, holding out the dagger.  

“Let them go – then you can have it,” he demanded.  Rumpelstiltskin looked up at Belle again.  “Please look after my son,” he pleaded to her.  Belle saw a tear fall down his cheek, and she was moved to tears herself.  Rumpelstiltskin turned to Bae.  “Bae – I’ve never stopped looking for you, and I’ve never stopped loving you.  I’m so sorry, son.  I’m so very sorry.”  

“Let her go, Felix,” Pan motioned to his minion, and Felix released Belle from his grip.  

“I want to see them leave safely,” Rumpelstiltskin insisted.  

“Quite demanding, aren’t we Rumple?” Pan taunted.  “Very well.”  Just as they started to move, Belle darted toward Rumpelstiltskin, grabbed the dagger out of his hand, and stabbed Pan in the shoulder.  Pan let out a loud scream.  

“Go!  Run away!” Belle ordered Rumpelstiltskin while she was holding the dagger, and he had no choice but to obey.  

“You foolish girl!” Pan shouted.  “You’ll pay for that!”  Just as Pan moved to grab her, Belle shouted, “Rumpelstiltskin!  Save your son and save me!”  Belle and Bae both vanished before Pan’s eyes, and next thing they knew they were standing in front of the portal with Rumpelstiltskin.  He opened the portal and pushed them both through it, then went through the door himself.  Once they were safely back in the dark castle, Rumpelstiltskin destroyed the portal.  

“Papa – she saved you,” Bae said, smiling at Belle.  

“Yes – she did,” he replied in agreement.  Belle looked down at the dagger still in her hand.  “Here – this is yours,” Belle said quietly as she handed the dagger back to him.  

“You – you want me to have it back?” he asked, dumbfounded. 

“I don’t want to control you – I just – wanted to help.  Now – are you going to tell me what you want for dinner or should I just guess?” Belle teased, then she looked at Bae.  “By the way – I’m Belle.  It’s very nice to meet you, um --” 

“Baelfire,” Bae replied.  “It’s nice to meet you, too.”  

“You know, I um – I think the two of you would probably like to be alone for a bit, so – I’ll just go up to my library and read.  When you decide what you want for dinner, let me know.”  Belle headed up the stairs.  She turned and smiled at him as she reached the top – and he smiled back.  Baelfire couldn’t help but notice.  

“You have changed,” Bae said to him, and he ran into Rumpelstiltskin’s arms and hugged him.  “I missed you, Papa.”  

“Oh, I missed you too, son.  I missed you so very much.  We have so much time to make up for.  Come on – let’s go see your room, you can arrange it however you like.”  

“Papa, are you gonna tell her that you love her?” Bae asked as they walked up the stairs. 

“Who?” 

“Belle!  You love her – I can see it.  And she loves you too.”  

“Of course she doesn’t, Bae – how could she?  How could a beautiful girl like that ever love a beast like me?”  Belle peeked out from her door as she secretly watched them turn the corner when they reached the top of the stairs, and she smiled to herself.  He did love her – now she just had to find a way to make him see that she felt the same.  Perhaps if she simply took him by surprise and kissed him . . . . what would he do if she did that, she wondered . . . . . . 

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle showdown