#rumbellesecretsanta | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reolf · 4 months

Text

Mysterious

@rumbellesecretsanta

Hi @abovethemists, It's me, Santa!

Happy secret santa! I wish you every bit of happiness and luck.

You gave me a reason to write again and I am thankful for that. I hope you enjoy your gift.

Greetings,

Reolf

“rain, heartache, marriage of convenience”

– Heavy rain was pounding against the window of the carriage. Belle could hardly see anything of the landscape they passed. They were on the way to a ball. It was her 7th season and she was already considered a spinster. Her father absolutely hated it. He wanted her married and soon. Especially now they had financial problems. Belle couldn’t really say why she had stayed unmarried for so long. Was it her mother’s early death? Her absence making it difficult for Belle to navigate the balls and other social gatherings of the ton? Was it her father being an awful matchmaker, only introducing her to boring and dull men? Or perhaps it was just herself who was the problem? Maybe she was the odd one, as she loved to read countless books. It wouldn’t be the first time if she sneaked away during a ball to the library. It wasn’t ladylike, but Belle couldn’t help herself sometimes. – This ball, it seemed difficult to sneak away to the library. They were at the home of The Duke and Duchess of Misthaven. Lord David and his wife Mary Margaret were perfect hosts, but they were highly honored among society. Her father wished they had the social standing among the ton as they did. Her father was only a baron. Their family’s history has been shrouded by the multiple feudal lords waging wars they couldn’t win. It seemed Belle couldn’t win either.

While her father conversed with other Lords, Belle was stationed next to the dance floor. Her dance card remained relatively empty until she caught the eye of a broad shouldered man. He was tall and had dark hair. She felt his eyes on her during the third dance of the evening and by the fourth he had approached her already.

“I don’t think I have ever seen you before. What is your name?”

Belle introduced herself. He smiled and took her hand, kissing her glove. “ My name is Gaston, Lord of LeGume. Can I have this dance?”

As Belle couldn’t see a reason why not, she let him lead her to the dancefloor for the next round of country dance.

His presence was overwhelming. He grabbed her hands, hurting her more really. She also found he was terribly arrogant as he talked about himself and his lavish hunting parties. He insulted other ladies as they passed by. “That dress is ugly compared to her necklace. She is rather idiotic looking. Unless you, my Belle, you are stunning.”

Belle found herself getting more bored by the minute. She hoped the party would soon be over and she could return to her books.

It was when Gaston went to get her a glass of lemonade, she could finally breathe again.

She wanted to turn around and get lost among the corridors of the estate, no matter the social cost. She wanted to do just that as she bumped against someone. Hastily apologizing, she looked up into a familiar face. It was Lord Gold, Earl of the Frontlands.

“It’s no matter,” he answered in his brogue voice. “ I wasn’t looking where I was going either.”

Lord Gold was a mysterious person among the ton. He rarely was at the social events, only if he could make deals with other people. If not making deals, he was standing alone in a corner, cane between his feet. He had long brown hair with gray strands in between, which was unconventional for the fashion. She had spoken to him a handful of times, between standing at the sidelines and being ignored by the other members of the ton.

He was a relatively quiet man and Belle didn’t know why he was so standoffish towards other people. He had obviously a past and Belle liked to know his story.

She saw an opportunity. When she saw Gaston returning, she laughed like she had heard a funny joke and looked Gold in the eye, hoping he would get along. “You are a man of wit, my Lord”

Gold, who had seen Gaston approaching, smiled at her. “If you say so, Miss Marchland.”

Gaston halted in his steps when he saw Gold, but seemed to refind his feet and approached them. “Excuse me, my Lord. But the Lady belongs to me.”

Gold faintly smiled. “ Oh, is that so? Well, I seem to remember another Lady at another ball where I heard you say that exact same thing. How did that end for you?”

Belle looked between the two men, confused what they were talking about.

It seemed to work for now. Gaston wished her a good evening and walked off. Belle smiled at Gold. “Thank you for that. He was terribly arrogant and intimidating.”

Gold stared into her eyes and nodded. “From what I have seen, I cannot disagree.” He looked at his pocket watch. “Well, I must be off. Give my regards to your father.”

And he walked away, leaning on his cane. – Gold rarely attended social gatherings. If he did, it was for good reason. Balls were tedious affairs, but visiting the Gentlemen’s Club was even more exhausting. Listening to men boasting about their lives was… interesting to get to know their weaknesses, but exhausting nonetheless.

Right now, he was sitting in a corner, listening to the arrogant Lord LeGume, Gaston. And he was boiling with anger.

“I will tell you this, gentlemen. She is the one, the lucky girl I am going to marry.”

“The Marchland’s Baron's daughter? Isn’t she the odd one?”

Gaston shrugged. “She is the most beautiful girl in town.”

“I know, but…”

Gaston slammed his fist on the table. “I know she is the best, and I only acquire the best.”

He sat back, slightly more relaxed. “Besides, her father is practically bankrupt. He is desperate to marry his daughter. Her title will make it easier for me to get up in the social ladder. Once I save her father from bankruptcy, I will take his place and bam my family’s name will be entering the nobility.”

Gold had heard enough. In no circumstances would he let Belle marry that oaf. She deserved a handsome man, yes, but she deserved someone wanting to be her partner, making sure she was happy, appreciating her sharp mind.

In all the years Gold had seen Belle at balls, he had never seen her with a real suitor. He knew she was beginning to be considered a spinster. Gaston was her first real chance of marriage.

Gold hated himself to do this but he had no choice. He was selfish. He wanted Belle safe.

That’s why he stepped into his carriage and made his way to the house of the Baron of Marchland. –

Belle didn’t know how her father had arranged it, but she was marrying. To Lord Duncan Gold, Earl of the Frontlands of all people! She could scarcely believe it.

It was a quiet affair: a priest in a small church, her father at her side, an exchange of vows and a small kiss on the lips.

She was a Countess now! Who had ever thought Odd Belle would be married to an Earl?

Her new husband was quiet on the way to his estate. He just looked outside the carriage window. When they arrived, Belle saw a gigantic mansion. It would seem the Earl of the Frontlands had a lot of money.

Gold helped her out of the carriage by offering his hand. A small boy came running down the front stairs.

“Papa! You are home!”

Gold smiled at the boy. Belle had never seen him smile like that before.

“Hello, Bae.”

The boy hugged his father. Gold nudged him to look at Belle. “Bae, may I introduce you to my wife, Lady Belle. Belle, this is my son, Baden Neal Gold.”

The boy looked at her with big brown eyes, the same colour as his father. He had black hair that was slightly curly. He seemed to be around the age of eight.

“Welcome to the Gold estate, my Lady.” Bae gave a small bow.

“Alright son, why don’t you give Lady Belle a tour of the house while I will see to her luggage being brought inside.”

Belle was slightly disappointed Gold wouldn’t be the one to lead her around, but the small boy before her was a good guide.

He showed her the drawing rooms, the dining room, the ballroom “which we never use but it’s here”, the studies, the gallery, the library (which Belle absolutely loved).

She could see herself living in this place. – Gold had made it clear to Belle they were only married in name and for financial reasons. Belle had stayed alone in her chambers on her wedding night. She knew it would be a marriage like that, but she couldn’t help being disappointed by his absence.

The days following their marriage she remained her only company. Bae was mostly occupied with his lessons with his governess. Belle took her meals alone, her walks alone in the gardens. If she encountered Gold in the corridors, he nodded briefly and hurried along. When she was in the library reading a book, he would enter, see her and walk out again.

He was avoiding her. Only, she had no idea why. – It was one winter evening when she entered the drawing room, she saw Bae play with a set of wooden soldiers in front of the fire. Gold was sitting in a chair, reading a book.

Upon seeing her, he went to sit up and close his book. Bae noticed, looking between his father and Belle.

“Papa, look at my general!”

Gold looked and nodded. “I see it, Bae.”

Belle saw an opportunity to enter the conversation.

“Can you introduce me to your soldiers, Bae? I haven’t played with soldiers ever before. Can I join?”

The boy happily showed her how to play and appointed her to be the captain of his troops while he was the general. From the corner of her eye, Belle saw how Gold was watching them. And for the first time since their wedding day, he didn’t run away. –

It was the first ball they were attending as a married couple. Belle was wearing a green dress with gold embroidered on the top. Gold was wearing a black suit with gold pin on his lapel. They matched.

It was the first time they would dance together, as was expected of the new Earl and Countess of the Frontlands.

When the dance floor cleared and a new song began, Gold took Belle’s gloved hand and brought her to the middle of the dance floor. His cane was still in his hand, but he had mentioned earlier he could still dance. Placing his hand on her waist, he started to lead the dance. Belle was careful with her steps, knowing how clumsy she was. She found they fell perfectly in sync with each other. She hardly had to take glances at her feet. The music faded away. Gold kept his gaze on her and Belle felt she could drown in those beautiful amber eyes.

When the music slowed and the dance stopped, Gold and her stood still, hands clasped together, their eyes not leaving. Belle felt her chest rise and fall as if she had run miles. His mouth was open and for the first time since her wedding day, she wanted to kiss him again. Her husband was handsome.

The clapping of people brought her back to the surface and she let go of Gold. He seemed to not know what to do with his hands. He opted to walk away, excusing himself to get her some champagne.

Belle nodded. She could use the refreshment.

She walked away to the side, off the dancefloor. She noticed how another person came to stand next to her.

“That was a beautiful dance, my Lady.” Belle looked up to see who was speaking. She did not recognize the woman. She had red hair and had blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” She seemed vaguely familiar though.

“Oh my apologies, my name is Penelope. I am the wife of Colin Bridgerton.” She gestured to the corner with the food. “He loves a good snack in between dances.” She smiled at her husband who seemed to take an extra scone.

Belle suddenly understood. Viscount Bridgerton and his wife were the hosts of this party. Colin Bridgerton must be his brother.

“I remember us standing together once at the side of a ballroom a few years ago. Two wallflowers as they called us. And look at us now, both married. Who would have thought?”

Belle smiled, remembering the woman now. “Indeed, I certainly hadn’t seen it coming. But my father arranged it.”

Penelope cocked her head to the side. “You know, it is touching to see you and your husband so smitten with each other. The love was palpable from where everyone else was standing. You are a lucky woman.”

Belle didn’t know an answer to that. Her husband was smitten with her? Love?

Before she could open her mouth, Penelope was called by another lady.

Her husband soon joined her side again to give her the glass of champagne. Refreshments indeed. –

The weeks following the ball and the conversation with Penelope Bridgerton, Belle had noticed how Gold was more open towards her. He no longer avoided her during meals, now they took every meal together. He didn’t run away when they met in the corridor. He invited her in his study to look at his work. He even brought her tea when she was reading in the library. It was very sweet and Belle loved this small attendance. One day, she invited him to read with her. Soon they began talking about the books they were reading. Heavy discussions followed, each sharing their thoughts and opinions. Belle had never met a man who was interested in her thoughts like that. He really listened to her. And when she challenged him, it seemed like he came alive and brought more material to the table. It was wonderful.

And as his library was very large, the conversations never seemed to stop.

This afternoon he was reading from a book called Fairytales. He had opted for the story of Rumplestilskin. To make her laugh, he used silly voices and made extravagant hand gestures.

“And while you are my servant, you will skin the children I hunt.” Belle gasped, not realising the story would turn so dark and her hand that was holding her cup of tea let loose. The cup fell on the ground, spilling the tea over the carpet.

She looked in shock at her husband, while he looked almost sheepishly at her.

“That was a quip, that is not seriously on the page.” “Right,” Belle let out a sigh of relief. She looked down and realised the mess she had made. “Oh, I am so sorry,” she picked the cup up, “ it is chipped.” “It’s no matter. It’s only a cup.” Her husband set the book aside and stood up. “We can fix it.” –

Things only improved for their small family. Bae was home for the holidays and Belle loved nothing more than to sit with her husband and Bae in front of the fire reading stories. Mostly it was Gold who read, but sometimes both father and son looked at her with their big brown puppy eyes to convince her to read. She gladly did.

One evening, Bae was already gone to bed. But Belle wanted to read to her husband. So while going through the study of Gold to get the book for reading -she had left it earlier there in the day while Gold was working- she saw a letter lying on his desk.

Normally she wouldn’t look at his desk, but something about the handwriting caught her off guard. It was her father’s.

Her father had practically never let anything heard from himself after she had married Gold. So it surprised her to see a letter addressed to her husband instead of her.

She read it. And gasped.

Her father had practically sold her in turn for money to raise his standing in society. He was only letting Gold know how much money he still owned him for his daughter. It hurt to see her father write about her like that. Was she nothing more to him? A price for a suitor to be won so he could forget about her and go on about his life?

And her husband… she had known from day one she was only in this marriage for financial reasons, but still Gold had never mentioned anything about this. Was she really only a price in his eyes? She remembered how cold and distant he was in the beginning.

Confused and heartbroken, she went to sit on the settee. – Gold entered the study to see his wife distraught.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” It was the first time he used the endearment, but it slipped from his tongue.

Belle let out a sob. Suddenly, Gold saw the letter she was holding and understood.

Her father had been so cold the day he had gone to ask for Belle’s hand. He knew he was only accepted because he was an Earl. The Baron of Marchland was only too happy to accept it. But he had a price. A steep one. He had wanted everything Gold could offer him to give him the opportunity to further his social standing.

Gold knew he was being blackmailed. But he didn’t care. He realised Belle was surrounded by men who didn’t care about her at all.

He knew he was buying her and hated himself for it. He wanted to give Belle everything she deserved, but he couldn’t even do that. At least he could save her from her fate being married to Gaston. So he did pay the price.

Only, Maurice started to demand more and more money each month. It was exhausting and illegal. Gold knew that, but he was afraid and a coward. At first, he paid because he felt guilty for shackling Belle to be his wife. But lately since they had grown closer, he had realised just how much out of pocket the Baron was acting.

He was planning to put an end to it.

How to explain all of that to his wife? – Belle stared at her husband, her eyes full of tears.

“My father doesn’t care about me.” She sobbed.

“No, he doesn’t,” Gold answered. “I recognize the patterns with my own father now.” He went to sit next to her. “At first, I didn’t realise it, but it’s true.”

And he explained to her what her father had done. What he had done.

She didn’t know why everything surprised her so much. Except the story with Gaston. She had always known he was an oaf.

Gold looked at her and smiled. “I should have told you this sooner. I am sorry, Belle. It was never my intention to do this to you. I have grown to care for you so much and…,” he seemed to breathe in, “I love you. I want only to protect you.”

Belle stopped breathing. “You love me?”

He nodded. “I love you with every beat of my heart. You brought so much life into our home. With me, with Bae. I am so thankful for you, my Belle.”

Belle laughed. The tears still in her eyes, she went to hug her husband. “I love you too!”

She thought back to what Lady Penelope had said. “How is it that it took us this long to admit it to each other?”

Gold laughed. “I genuinely don’t know.” He looked serious suddenly. “May I kiss you, Belle?”

She nodded in her enthusiasm. “Yes, yes!”

And they sealed their lips again. Finally. – It was late in the night. The moonlight shone on their bed. She was finally truly married to Duncan Gold. They had shared their bodies for the first time. Belle hadn’t realised how much she had missed before. She loved being intimate with her husband. He had jokingly suggested they would only make use of one bedchamber together from now on. Still naked, they were cuddling in bed watching the windows. The curtains were still open.

It started snowing heavily.

Gold whispered in her ear. “Bae is going to love this.”

Belle laughed. “What? The snow or us being together?”

Gold kissed her ear. “ Both.”

#Rumbelle secret santa #abovethemists

7 notes · View notes

elanorjane · 1 year

Text

Screw The Roses, Send Me The Thorns (Pt. 1)

Gift for @kelyon for @rumbellesecretsanta

Prompt: Mutually horny at family event

A/N: This is fiction, not reality, the romance is compressed into a very short time period. Remember: safe, sane, and consensual, friends.

These people were only Gold’s family in the loosest sense of the word.

Regina insisted on holding these mock “family” holiday gatherings every season. He’d rather be at home, with a bourbon, in his library. Or in his shop tallying his ledgers. Better company, either way.

But Regina Mills, by a twisted set of events, was the adoptive mother of his biological grandson. A child Bae, and himself, did not know existed until fairly recently. His son had only recently reentered his life after decades of estrangement. Gold came to these little gatherings as a favor to Bae. It was one of the olive branches he could muster in their still fragile relationship. Unfortunately, rebuilding a relationship with his son included regularly coming in contact with the whole damn town.

This performative family was not for him. And the "family" seemed to grow every year, much to his dismay. First Emma, his grandson’s biological mother. Then her parents, the Nolans, David and his equally insufferably sunny wife Mary Margaret. Then Regina and her idiotic sister, Zelena. In a display of her status as Mayor, Regina now expanded these events to now include Storybrooke’s most influential, at least by Regina’s standards, citizenry. Beside the “family”, their gathering now included Jefferson, her stylist and decorator, Sydney Glass, her counsel, Dr. Archibald Hopper, town shrink, and a handful of other rotating characters, depending on Regina’s mood. If he wanted to be with this many people he'd spend more time at Granny's.

It was not lost on Gold how tragically ironic it was that the town’s feared pariah was now lousy with family. His eyes roamed up and down the long dinner table, a stark black and white decor that matched the rest of the stately manor. In a nod to the season, blood red poinsettias were sprinkled here and there to dramatic effect. He recognized everyone at the table, of course. He made it his business, both literally and figuratively, to know everyone in town. But he also made certain that none of them knew him, not really. Occasionally his and the mayor’s business desires lined up and they worked in tandem when it suited Gold. David Nolan acted like they were friends every time he saw him, much to Gold’s bewilderment. And he continued his campaign to regain the trust of Bae, or Neal, as everyone else at the table called him.

Bae sat near the head of the table with Henry and Emma, with Regina at the head looking smugly down her line of descent. Honestly, she was worse than some men and their obsession with progeny and the continuation of their line of succession. Dr. Hopper would have something to say about that, he was sure.

Gold sat further down the table, by choice. He didn’t need to exercise his power in this sham hierarchy. He knew who really reigned over the town, and it wasn’t the person in possession of the official title. But while Regina’s objective was to protect her power, Gold’s was to protect himself and his family, his real family. And he did that through maintaining control and influence. His desire was to protect himself and Bae. Anything, or anyone, else was meaningless.

Gold looked at his drink, using his long fingers to twist the apéritif against the white tablecloth. Inane chatter created a tiresome buzz around him. Worse than that, he was bored. And when he was bored, he was left to his own devices to amuse himself. His eyes swept up and down the table again. Little pleasure to be had at this table. He knew he had to keep his sharp tongue in check for Bae. This gathering was meaningless to him, but important to his son. If he says something biting and Bae gives him one of those disappointed looks…he couldn’t stand the further disconnection. Gold fingered the ring on his hand, restless. Under the table his good leg bounced. Hired waiters reached at each guest’s right, removing the appetizers in readiness for the main course. Only a quarter of the way through the meal and his restraint struggled to find a release valve.

“Screw the roses, send me the thorns.”

A low-pitched accent had him glancing up. The newest addition to the “family” met his eyes. And what eyes. Big, round blue orbs twinkled at him. Miss French, the town librarian. Well, she will be if she ever got that mess of a library up and running. The eyes and the voice were in contrast to her innocent cherub face. Her eyes said she’d read some books in the restricted section. Her voice suggested she’d like to try some of the things she’d read. She was staring at him, as if she’d expected to get his attention with her comment.

She was seated diagonally from him, next to Gaston LeGume. The librarian and the pet shelter caretaker. How quaint. They sat at the end of the table because that’s where Regina sat the newest, least politically savvy of the gathering. But as members of the community running town services under Regina’s purview, they warranted an invitation. Regina wanted to either impress them or put fear in them. The librarian, he noted, looked neither.

LeGume was chattering away next to her, but Gold didn’t hear a word he said. Her remark was obviously in response to something LeGume had said, but the librarian kept regarded Gold across the table. Like she was challenging him to enter the conversation. Gold raised an eyebrow at her. She raised one right back. The insolent little creature.

The phrase that piqued his interest was one he hadn’t heard in a long, long time. She was too young to know the classic guide to sadomasochism, subtitled “The Romance and Sexual Sorcery of Sadomasochism.” Considering sadomasochism as “sexual magic” had always resonated with him. It was delicate, like he imagined a spell would be. It required the precise blend of trust, fantasy, and sensuality. Get it just right and SM could be intensely erotic and deeply intimate. Many many years ago he was active in that community. He hadn’t dipped back in in a number of years. Mostly because he couldn’t find the right partner to join him in the dark, to make the formula complete. It was always off, somehow, despite his efforts. The frustration over not being able to conjure the correct spell forced him to abandon SM and he’d begun to suspect the incomplete desire would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Still, the contradictions of Miss French raised his suspicions.

“Read any good books lately, Miss French?” He interrupted LeGume’s blathering, who blinked and gaped at him like a fish.

Miss French didn’t seem to mind his rudeness. In fact she settled more comfortably back in her chair.

“In fact I have, Mr. Gold.” It was the most words they’d exchanged since she arrived in town months ago. “It’s one I’d never considered until recently, but based on positive recommendations I finally tried it out. The Story of O. Have you ever read it, Mr. Gold?” She was all politeness.

He couldn’t help the tick in the corner of his mouth. “It’s an old favorite. I haven’t had reason to revisit it in some time. Are you finding it,” he let the word hang in the air, “satisfying?”

“Oh yes.” She didn’t even blush. “Like any good book, it’s…” she mimicked his speech, “arousing some new ideas in me.”

He sat back in his own seat, no longer bored. “Glad to hear it. You may have inspired me to pick it up again.”

“I have it on my bedside table if you need a refresher.” She broke eye contact to look up and politely thanked the waiter on her left as the main course dishes were placed on the table.

“What book are you talking about?” Mary Margaret chimed in. She was on the other side of Belle and caught part of their exchange. “My book club is always looking for recommendations.”

Gold looked down to hide his smirk. The idea of virginal Mary Margaret reading the erotic novel by Pauline Réage was laughable. But he looked at Belle to see how she’d handle it, positive she’d regret her recklessness and flush with embarrassment.

“The Story of O,” Belle repeated for the benefit of the table, matching his challenging stare. “A French novel from 1954.”

The title was met with silence.

“Oh,” Mary Margaret said. “I’ve never heard of that one. I’ll have to look it up.”

He knew it was more polite, empty words. Nobody at this table would look up the book. For one, Regina made them put their phones in a bowl on their way in. (He kept his. He knew how to act civilized at a dinner table.). Second, he'd be surprised if anyone in this town knew how to read. From what he could tell they seem to spend the majority of the time running around like idiots.

With much pomp and circumstance the main course, a turkey, was placed in the middle of the table. The legs were crossed and tied over the bird’s cavity with kitchen twine.

“Don't things look so much more delectable all trussed up?” Belle chirped across from him.

~tbc~

#rumbelle #rumbelle secret santa

24 notes · View notes

kelyon · 1 year

Text

Hot Cocoa and Stolen Kisses

My @rumbellesecretsanta gift for @smutwithplot from the prompt “Cocoa and Stolen Kisses.”

When Lacey discovers her landlord’s sweet tooth, she begins to wonder if there’s more to him than what’s on the surface.

Read on AO3

Lacey never bought that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. That saying always seemed to have the sexism baked in, as it were. In a world where that was true, cooking was really less about seduction and more about proving what a good little wife you’d be. Lacey wasn’t going to be anybody’s little wife, and she had plenty of other ways to get attention if she wanted it. Most of the time, she was less concerned with getting into a man’s heart and more about getting into his pants.

Until she set her sights on her landlord.

Roald Gold didn’t seem to be the sort to let anyone into his heart, his pants or his stomach. In the first nine months of her lease, Lacey pinned him for a run-of-the-mill hardass. The kind of man who woke up at five AM and ate plain oatmeal for breakfast every day, and had done so for the past thirty years. He wasn’t a bad landlord--firm on the rent, but quick with the repairs. He also insisted on collecting the rent himself, and coming into her apartment for a not-at-all-obvious inspection that she wasn’t destroying the place.

Lacey hadn’t thought much of him, until a random Saturday morning in the beginning of September. That was the day she witnessed Gold buying a pumpkin spice hot chocolate from Storybrooke Coffee.

The order was pretty strange on its own--it was eighty degrees out, and Mr. Gold didn’t seem to be the type to like sweets. The really noteworthy part came once the drink had been served. He’d gotten the hot chocolate to go, but tasted it before he left. From her cafe table in the corner, Lacey saw Mr. Gold make a face at the drink, then go over to the little counter with coffee fixings. She watched him take off the lid and dump cinnamon and nutmeg into the paper cup. Then he added more sugar and some half-and-half. He stirred the concoction with the wooden stirrer and tasted his creation. Lacey didn’t see that expression, but when he walked out of the cafe to go back to his pawn shop, he still had a half-grin on his face--which was half a grin more than Lacey had ever seen on him.

“Huh,” she said out loud in the empty cafe. Setting aside her crossword puzzle, she leaned back in the armchair and brought her pencil to her lips. “Huh.”

So. Her landlord had a sweet tooth. Who would have ever thought?

Even though Lacey had been perfectly satisfied with her frozen caramel latte, she made a point to order the pumpkin spice hot chocolate on her way out. She didn’t taste it until she was back in her apartment over the abandoned library. Using two of her mugs, she poured out the beverage into thirds. The last third she kept in the to-go cup. That was her control sample, the version of the drink that Gold hadn’t liked.

With a scientific sip, Lacey tried the control. It wasn’t bad, exactly, but it made her agree with all those people who say pumpkin spice tastes like a fall candle. Definitely room for improvement, which Gold had tried to do. That was what her second mug was for.

Pulling her spice basket off the top of her fridge, Lacey poured cinnamon and nutmeg into the cup. Then the white sugar. She didn’t have half-and-half, so milk would have to do for now. She stirred it all together and gave it a taste.

It was hard to judge if this was what Gold actually liked, or if it was just the best he could do with the ingredients he had on hand. The extra sugar, in Lacey’s opinion, was a mistake. The problem with the original wasn’t a lack of sweetness. More milk added a welcome feeling of richness to the drink. Half-and-half would have been better, and cream would be better still. The cinnamon was an inspired touch, but nutmeg was easy to overdo. It might have been a matter of taste, but Lacey was pretty sure she knew how to make improvements.

In her third cup, Lacey added the same amount of milk and cinnamon, a little less nutmeg, and no extra sugar. A quick taste proved that it was already better. Going through her spice basket, she pulled out ground ginger and cloves. Now with all the extra spices, the chocolate was getting drowned out. Lacey didn’t have any chocolate syrup on hand, so she ripped open a packet of Swiss Miss and added half of it to the mug.

Now it was too sweet again. Lacey had a splash of coffee left over from this morning, and sometimes cookbooks talked about adding espresso to chocolate desserts to bring out the flavor. So why not? She added the coffee into the mix, stirred it all up, and put the whole thing in the microwave to put the “hot” back in hot chocolate.

The end result should have been the best yet. But after one taste, Lacey was pretty sure she had just circled back to the beginning. It was better than the control from Storybrooke Coffee, but she’d be hard pressed to say why. Or if Gold would agree with her assessment.

Clearly, she needed to start over from scratch.

****

Two weeks later, on October first, Lacey was pretty sure she had a recipe figured out. At the very least, she had something she felt comfortable offering Gold when he stopped by for the rent.

In moments of quiet, Lacey would ask herself why she was putting forth this much effort to make her landlord hot chocolate. She didn’t need to get into his good graces. She didn’t have a reputation of culinary excellence she had to uphold. She wasn’t trying to prove anything to him. None of her usual motivations for doing things--thrills, spite, sex--really applied in this case.

Okay, that was a lie. Sex was definitely a part of this. But not the whole thing. It wasn’t like Lacey wanted Gold to bang her against the wall--or at least, not like she expected that to happen all at once, and not just because of her hot chocolate. She wouldn’t say no, of course, if that was Gold’s idea of a good time. But there was something else going on. When she had seen Gold smile over the hot chocolate he’d fixed, that was the happiest she had ever seen him. From the general vibe around town, there wasn’t anyone else who had ever seen him that happy either.

If alternate universes existed, there was probably a version of her who only wanted to make Gold happy, whose motivations were purely altruistic, purely pure. Lacey was more twisted than that. She didn’t just want Gold to be happy, she wanted to be the one who made him happy. The only one. She knew a secret about him--something no one else new--and her greedy little mind wanted to know more.

This was why she hauled her ass to the grocery store to buy baker’s chocolate, heavy cream, and the freshest pumpkin spices available. After lots of practice, she had developed a base hot chocolate recipe so good she was pretty sure she’d kill to defend it. She wasn’t as sure about the pumpkin spice element, but the concoction she poured into her classiest mug was definitely the best hot chocolate she had ever made.

At exactly 4:15 in the evening, there was a knock on the apartment door. Perfect. Gold was meticulous about time, so Lacey had made sure that the cocoa would be prepared and at the perfect temperature when he arrived.

“Hi!” She couldn’t help beaming when she opened the door.

Gold just nodded, polite and buttoned-up, as usual. There were orange pinstripes in with the black of his dress shirt, and a bronzy-orange tie as well. That was as vibrant a display of fall spirit as he would ever allow himself.

“Good evening, Miss French.”

“Come on in.” She ushered him inside. Her apartment was a one-bedroom, so the entryway, kitchen, living room and dining room were all the same area. “Do you have a minute to sit?”

“I--” Gold began, and then stopped. His nostrils flared as he took in the scent of chocolate and cloves. “Are you baking?”

“Hot chocolate, actually. I’ve been experimenting with my own recipe.”

He didn’t say anything, but Lacey watched his eyes scan over the simmering sauce pot, and the two mugs on the counter.

“Would you like some?”

Now he looked at her. How had she ever thought he was boring? Gold put up a collected front, but if she had just looked at the man a little closer, she would have noticed how the wheels in his head never stopped turning. Knowing what she knew now, it was obvious how much he wanted some cocoa. It was also obvious how much he didn’t want her to know how much he wanted some cocoa. He was fighting against himself and she could have missed it all if she was looking.

He tilted his chin toward the mugs. “Aren’t you expecting company?”

Lacey shook her head. “No, I was hoping I could tempt you to try it. I’d, uh, like your opinion.”

Gold walked over to the kitchen counter like he owned the place. Using his cane gave his stride a forceful energy. His free hand floated over the mugs. “Does it matter which…?”

“No,” she said quickly. She had planned on giving Gold the larger mug, the one that might have been made of real porcelain. It had a sleek silhouette and a pattern of gray diamonds that reminded her of him. Instead, he picked up the mug she’d made as a craft project in the third grade, with autumn leaves depicted in splotches of bright paint.

She took the other mug and stood near him, leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen sink. She didn’t want to drink until he did. Gold swirled the cocoa in the mug like it was a fine wine.

“I have marshmallows too, if you--”

“No need.” He brought his mug up to nose, inhaling deeply. His eyes closed for a second, and Lacey had the perfect image of what Gold would look like seconds before he started to eat someone out.

Fuck.

As he took his first sip of cocoa, Lacey sidled a little closer. She watched his face so intently even she thought she was a little deranged. The eagle eye was necessary, however, because the speed of Gold’s changing expressions could be measured in microseconds.

First, the shock of discovery, when the taste first hit him and his eyebrows shot up. Then exploration. He held the cocoa in his mouth and let it swirl over his tongue. Lacey imagined him catching every flavor, every nuance, even the scant tablespoon of pumpkin puree. When his eyes opened, they shone. It was a moment so fleeting it wouldn’t have been caught on film, but Lacey knew it was there. She saw the delight in his eyes. She saw his tongue dart over his lips to get every trace of the cocoa, every drop. She saw the flash of white teeth, saw the smile that he tried to hide by clearing his throat. She saw, for just a moment, the wonder her cocoa had brought out in him.

He set the mug down after one sip. Lacey flattered herself by thinking that he couldn’t handle any more. If he drank the whole thing, they really might end up banging against a wall.

For now, he kept his full composure. “That was quite good.” He said it like she was a waitress. Already, the light was dimming in his eyes. Already, his cocoa was getting cold on the counter. Lacey had spent two weeks perfecting the recipe and it was all going to go to waste. “Though I can’t imagine why--”

She grabbed her landlord by his suit lapels and pulled him in for a kiss.

His reaction was the cocoa all over again, but even faster this time. Shock and instinctive resistance, a second of melting into pleasure--and then he was pushing her away.

“What the hell are you doing?” he snarled.

The kiss had been short, but it still left Lacey breathless. “Kissing you,” she said. It was the only answer she had. The only one she could explain, anyway.

Gold stepped back. He looked at her like she had pulled a knife on him. His teeth were bared, his breathing was as heavy as hers. “Why would you-- Nevermind. Where’s the rent?”

Lacey stayed where she was. She kept both hands on the counter, so he could see that she wasn’t going to make any sudden movements. The intensity of Gold’s reaction only emphasized how much she had fucked up. He was treating her like she was dangerous, a criminal. Like he had something to be afraid of with her.

“It’s on the table.” She looked at the ground, breaking the eye contact that had connected them.

With surprising speed, Gold crossed the small room to get to the dining room table. He picked up the envelope of cash and stuffed it in his breast pocket without even thumbing through the bills. Lacey could have given him Monopoly money and he wouldn’t have noticed. He brushed past her without a word.

At the door, he looked up for just a minute. He looked at her, like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t.

He just left.

****

Lacey’s first instinct was to start packing. Clearly, she had just lost herself an apartment. Lease be damned, she wouldn’t have blamed Gold if he’d ordered her out by morning. He could take the rent too, call it a security deposit against un-asked-for kissing.

“Fuck!” She managed to contain the word until she looked out her window and saw Mr. Gold crossing the street from the library to his pawn shop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!”

She stomped around the apartment, picking up unbreakable items and then throwing them onto the ground. Stupid, that’s what she was. Stupid and impulsive and too horny for her own good.

After a few heartfelt screams into a couch cushion, Lacey ran out of steam. The knowledge of her fuckeduppedness was still there, but the initial mania had faded.

Should she call him? Not the way she would call a guy who’d had a more positive reaction to a surprise kiss, but the way she would call her landlord when she’d embarrassed herself so badly it might end up with her having to find a new place to live. She could say she’d been drinking--though that probably wouldn’t make her seem any more reasonable. Besides, talking to her was probably the last thing Mr. Gold wanted to do.

She got off the couch to look out the window again. The lights were on in his shop. When she’d signed the rental agreement, he’d given her three phone numbers: His shop, his cell phone, and his house phone. That was the order tenants were supposed to call him in. The house phone was supposed to be for urgent emergencies only.

Lacey had never called it before. She hoped it had an answering machine.

Before she could stop herself, Lacey pulled up Gold’s contact information. It rang a few times, then went to voicemail. The words burst out of her in a rush of nerves and shame.

“Hi Mr. Gold, this is Lacey. Lacey French. I just wanted to say that I am so, so sorry for what happened today. I don’t know what came over me, it just… It’ll never happen again, I promise. I really hope this mistake won’t have any negative impact on our business relationship. You’re a great landlord and I love this apartment, so please don’t evict me--Oh God, did I just say that? I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. If I need to make repercussions--I mean, reparations--we can discuss it at your convenience. Until then, I hope you have a good night. Uh. Bye.”

She clicked off her phone and let it fall to the floor, while she fell backward onto the couch. Well, if the kiss hadn’t convinced him she was crazy, that voicemail certainly had.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck,” Lacey groaned.

The cocoa was still on the counter, stone cold and ninety-nine percent undrunk. Terms that also applied to Lacey. Maybe she could do something about that.

She didn’t keep a lot of liquor around, preferring a glass of wine at home and for someone cute to buy her anything harder. But there was a bottle of Fireball that she kept around--for emergencies that could only be fixed with cinnamon whiskey. It paired very nicely with microwaved pumpkin spice cocoa.

Once Lacey’s troubles were sufficiently drowned, her fondest memory of the evening was that discovery--hot chocolate and cinnamon.

#rumbelle secret santa #hot cocoa and stolen kisses #golden lace #rumbelle

25 notes · View notes

of-princes-and-savages · 1 year

Text

A House Built With Love

To @joylee56 for RSS 2022. Enjoy!

(@rumbellesecretsanta )

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

And Neal had agreed.

But Neal was ten, and tended to approach things with more optimism than planning. Not unlike Belle. Likewise, neither of them had actually done this before. But since they sold pre-made, inedible kits, it couldn't have been that hard. Right?

Wrong.

So, so wrong.

KEEP READING...

#rumbelle #rumbelle secret santa #rumbelle secret santa 2022 #ouat #Mr. Gold #Belle #Nealfire #Joylee56

13 notes · View notes

lenific · 1 year

Text

OUAT. Rumbelle + Baelfire. Impossible Things

@lotus0kid

Hello! It’s Santa finally arriving with her calendar made a mess, but hey. The story is here!

A bit of intro to this one with three questions: What if Rumpelstiltskin didn’t offer Belle a way out before she realized she was in love? What if, together, they thought of the realms that were available to search for Bae, and rescued him from Neverland? What if it was too late to change Regina’s mind? IMPOSSIBLE THINGS (for @rumbellesecretsanta)

In the Enchanted Forest

The light steps outside made him snap his eyes open. He had gotten used to the heavy thread of armed guards, whenever they decided he needed to be fed.

These steps, Rumpelstiltskin had learned after years together.

“Belle,” he whispered, even as he slipped out of the dark corner at the back of his cell, careful not to touch the spelled bars. After his second attempt to escape, Blue had finally landed on a spell capable of containing him.

It would fade eventually.

It would be too late.

“Darling, I told you not to come.”

Belle smiled back.

His first sight of her in weeks, and she was smiling. He really didn’t deserve her.

“Did you, really?” she said as she came close. “Your meaning must have gotten lost among the yelling.”

Had they been at home, he would already have made some huge gesture to get back in her good graces. Baelfire would either giggle or roll his eyes, depending on how silly it was, and Belle would laugh and forgive him.

Here, he gave a small shrug. “I’m sorry, Belle.”

“I know.” She stood before him, her hands against the invisible barrier. “What do we do now?”

That was easy.

The die had been cast from the moment Regina guessed at the last ingredient for the Dark Curse. And despite Blue’s suspicions, she had guessed. Because even though that smug fairy was right, and Rumpelstiltskin could have made a deal in exchange for a clue, he hadn’t.

Punishment enough to doubt his choice, and then doubt again.

He reminded himself that there was no choice. Not really. He had once chosen the easy path, and it had led him to lose his son.

Never again.

Where Belle would one day understand why he had needed to break her trust in order to keep his family safe, he couldn’t gamble on Bae’s willingness to forgive him again.

“We wait,” he said quietly.

Belle swallowed, blinking the fear away. Brave woman, his Belle. “Regina might not—”

She broke herself off at his headshake.

“Don’t kid yourself, sweetheart.”

Belle couldn’t think of anyone harming their family. She still loved her own father, despite everything. She would protect Maurice even though the man wouldn’t as much as open one of her letters.

To kill a father who had followed their child down the darkest paths?

No, Belle would never understand.

Even the Charmings, who knew intimately the depths Regina would go to, had decided to be optimistic. Bright-eyed and confident that love was the ultimate power, they couldn’t believe that even the Evil Queen would kill the last person who loved her.

Rumpelstilskin knew better.

Curses were meant to be cast.

Henry could be spirited away, tucked behind as many barriers as the fairies could hold, but Regina needed a happy ending more than a father’s love.

When the moment came, the old man would open up his own chest, if it made his little girl smile.

Fathers were foolish like that.

“We will be alright,” he reminded Belle, faking a smile. “It won’t be forever.”

Belle’s own smile said she was trying to believe him. She searched her pocket, bringing out the small talisman he had given her. “And we will be together.” She clutched the teacup to her chest. “I’m not letting go of this, so we will be together.”

Not even his power could twine more than two fates together. Bae and Belle were as safe as he could make them.

How Regina’s curse would entangle him was a worry for when the Savior arrived.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he lied.

He refused to place another burden on her, when it was all so hopeless. After the Savior had done her work, after he admitted that there had never been a choice, Belle would forgive him.

“In the meanwhile, you are coming back with us,” Belle told him, tucking the teacup out of sight, and bringing up a book instead. He let out an impressed whistle when he recognized the title.

“I thought there was only one copy.”

Blue had bragged about that, as she cast the barrier over his cell.

Belle’s eyes danced with mischief. “There is.”

Rumpelstiltskin laughed, wishing he could kiss her smile. “I trust you, love.”

Belle blushed. “I will find the counterspell,” she promised. “Then you’re coming home with us.”

As Regina was taking her time finding her father, Rumpelstiltskin let himself hope. Waiting out the Dark Curse in his castle would be infinitely better. “I’d love that.”

---

When the curse swept into the dungeons three weeks later, Rumpelstiltskin refused to be afraid.

Baelfire was safe with Belle.

Anything else, he could survive.

28 years later.

Over the threshold of the sheriff’s office, freedom started with a panicked gulp.

Lacey tugged at his arm, her usual determination overshadowed by dread. “Why tonight?” she muttered, visibly shaken. “Of all nights for this shit to happen….”

His first thought was to reassure her, but practicality dragged him forward. Away from trouble and toward -

“Papa!”

After so many weeks apart, Gold felt the world realign. “Neal,” he breathed.

Why was his boy behind the wheel?

Lacey noticed at the same time. “Forget about it, shrimp. Backseat, now.”

Neal stuck his tongue out, but he squeezed between the front seats and waved at them from his new position.

Gold forgot the chaos of the moment, and let himself laugh. He walked faster to the car despite the dubious balance of the cane Lacey had just brought for him.

Beside him, she kept glancing around them, her smile nervous.

Despite the situation, Gold only had eyes for the fifteen-year-old in the car.

“I found him at my doorstep,” Lacey said, following his line of sight. “I know you wanted to keep him safe to the last minute, but when has the kid ever listened to you?” Her voice was less peeved than she probably meant. She wasn’t one to follow instructions either. “He said the nuns won’t check until morning, and after so many times he’s snuck out, I’m hoping they haven’t decided to wise up tonight. I wouldn’t count on Astrid giving me the heads-up. Not for this.”

Gold grunted. That Lacey had found a nun willing to give him the benefit of the doubt was miracle enough.

She must have taken the sound as a complaint, because she scowled back. “I told him to stay put. I swear I did.”

His boy could out-stubborn anyone.

“It’s all right, Lace,” he said, reaching for the passenger door.

“Best that he’s here, anyway. We can leave right away.”

Once inside the car, he pulled Neal into a tight hug.

Both chuckled when they realized neither would loosen their grasp.

“Missed you too, Papa,” Neal said, still holding on.

Gold laughed, surprised by the easy affection. Neal had once been a sweet kid, but high school had changed him. The moodiness of his early teens had grown into a wave of anger and disappointment that had driven them apart.

He had hit his lowest point the day Neal had run away.

The months spent looking for his son had been bleak. An endless ocean of darkness. He hated to remember the measures he’d taken in his search. The only bright spot had been crossing paths with Lacey, and even their relationship had taken a few bitter twists before Neal had finally resurfaced.

For a little while afterward, life had been bright for the three of them.

Until Spencer called for his arrest.

(Or rather, someone placed above Spencer did, as the district attorney wasn’t fool enough to bite the hand that had hidden so many of his sins.)

Gold bristled at the thought of this unseen enemy, but at the moment he chose to focus on Neal.

“I missed you too, son.”

“Yeah, yeah. We love you and you love us,” Lacey grumbled with a pronounced eyeroll as she dangled her keychain over their heads. “Can we hurry it up?”

Neal made a half-hearted attempt to reach the car key. “Am I driving this time?”

“No!” chorused Lacey and Gold.

Neal gave an impressive eyeroll of his own, and with a shrug, he settled back as Lacey started the car.

Gold was glad to see the ease between them.

His son and his girlfriend had little in common, but they had stuck together in the weeks since Gold had been brought up on charges. They had even shared an inside joke or two the last time they had come in together. After that, once Neal had been forbidden to come, Lacey had sounded fond of the boy. There had been no reluctance to recount stories about Neal, and she’d stopped being upset when he redirected the conversation to his boy.

Neal raised his hand for a high-five when they reached the main road. “Next stop: New York!”

Neal’s enthusiasm made Gold smile.

He glanced at Lacey, ready to share in the moment, but her expression revealed that her nerves had caught up with her.

“Lace?”

“It’s okay,” she said too quickly. “I’m okay, really.”

Gold tried for a reassuring smile. He would move to the front seat at their first stop. Maybe take over the driving when they were far enough. Lacey had taken a nasty shock in the sheriff’s office, but she would be back to normal after a nap.

(Hopefully. He had no idea how to help her otherwise.)

Neal didn’t know to wait. “Are you, really?” he pressed.

“Sure! Ready to get out of here yesterday. That’s all.”

Neal looked between the two of them. “What happened?” He frowned, then peered at Lacey’s reflection on the rearway mirror. “You are more stressed now than in the afternoon. Which makes no sense, because you didn’t really think this would work.”

“Of course I’m sure,” Lacey insisted, with the tone of a well-rehearsed phrase. “Always was.”

She was a poor liar, when faced with people that mattered to her.

Neal huffed with pointed disbelief. “And you,” he continued, turning to point at his father. “You should be grumbling at us for altering your plan. Drive back to the convent and pick me up there, wasn’t it?”

“There was a chance we’d get caught,” Gold explained quickly.

Neal pressed his lips together. “So why aren’t getting grounded for risking being caught along, and why does Lacey look about to cry?”

Lacey shook her head. “Am not.”

Gold had promised not to lie ever again, so he volleyed with another question. “Do you want to get grounded, son?”

An unimpressed look said Neal wasn’t distracted. “What happened in there, then?”

His boy was smart, Gold consoled himself.

“There was a hiccup,” he started, figuring out the balance between the truth Neal deserved and the innocence he was owed.

At the same time, Lacey laid it out without hesitation: “The sheriff decided to get murdered just before we left.”

The hard part over with, Gold made a helpless gesture at Neal’s shocked look. “It wasn’t me.”

Neal buried his head in his hands. “This is bad,” he muttered.

“It really wasn’t me, son,” Gold insisted.

“I know! But everyone else will think—”

“Neal, we’re leaving. Stop worrying about what they think.”

Storybrooke had been supposed to be a new start for them.

A new business for him, a new school for Neal, and a new home for Lacey. He had even toyed with the idea of presenting Lacey with a huge diamond ring, making their relationship as concrete in strangers’ eyes as in their own.

His reputation, however, had followed him.

He wasn’t ashamed of the monster he’d been. Tracing Neal’s flight had been more expensive than his modest business could be expected to afford. Gold had tried. He had. But money flowed more easily among darker waters, and he had plunged in as deep as he’d needed until he had recovered his son.

Gold had also been willing to leave it behind.

A promise he couldn’t keep.

In hindsight, it had been naive to think he had a chance.

He never lived up to his son’s expectations.

His past caught up with him, had him dragged him away from their house and stuck in jail.

Spencer had been hypocritical enough to deny him bail, and the judge had folded as if Gold didn’t hold secrets over both their heads.

Both attempts to call the fools to heel had failed, and somehow that had called the attention of the church. The Mother Superior’s decision to meddle into his affairs still surprised him.

When he had been notified of Neal’s placement under the nuns’ supervision last week, Gold had despaired that he’d lose touch with his son.

Even phone calls had been taken off the list.

In hindsight, threatening the nun hadn’t been his best idea. Taking the convent from under her feet would be easier without warning her beforehand.

With his bag of tricks out of reach, Lacey had stepped forward.

From what the Sheriff had told him, Lacey had badgered the head nun into allowing Neal’s visits. When Mother Superior had sneered even at the idea that father and son should at least exchange notes, Lacey had decided to bribe one of the younger nuns.

How that conversation had turned into friendship, Gold couldn’t explain.

Lacey had shrugged off his questions, saying only that she had more in common with Sister Astrid than she’d have expected.

Knowing what he did about Lacey’s past, he hadn’t delved further.

Then Sister Astrid had come forward and admitted that Neal had been scheduled to leave for a foster house outside town.

That had been the last straw.

Within a few days, Gold had set this plan in motion.

A new life.

Modest, in comparison to their old one; but after months of his case being dragged into nowhere, Gold wasn’t ready to bet on the justice system being inclined to be bent to his satisfaction before Neal was lost to him.

There was someone stalling his more subtle attempts to throw off those tax fraud charges, even before they added that idiotic murder.

As if a school teacher could have been a threat.

Soon he would discover their identity and make sure they understood who kept the upper hand across town. He knew too many secrets and had made too many deals with the foremost people in town, to stay behind bars. But right now… Right now he was a desperate father with a single goal in mind.

Said goal had a determined scowl on his face. “We are going back, Papa.”

“Neal….”

“If we don’t prove you’re innocent, we’ll never stop running.”

“The shrimp has a point,” Lacey muttered.

Gold glanced between the two of them. “A fine sentiment, thank you. But considering that I’m guilty, we might not count on that.”

“I don’t care about the money,” Neal said.

“I like that part, actually,” Lacey piped up, always unashamed of what had first drawn her to him. She was attracted to power, and Gold sometimes had to remind himself that she’d stayed even after he’d lost a chunk of it.

“Ew, stop looking at her like that.” Neal clicked his fingers in front of his father’s nose. “And Lacey, please keep your eyes on the road.”

Lacey winked before she focused back on the driving.

“As I was saying,” Neal continued, “I can understand that. But if we run from a murder charge, they’ll never even look for the real killer.”

“Oh, son. If I’m there, they won’t look further either.”

“It looks bad,” Lacey added. “I was there, and I would blame your father if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes.”

Gold closed his own, trying to repress a full body shudder.

The sheriff had been a decent man, when he remembered to crawl from under Madam Mayor’s thumb.

Usually, they would be playing their usual charade where Graham reminded Lacey that visiting hours were over, and Lacey tried to tempt him into giving her the keyring…

But tonight Lacey already had a copy of the key.

Instead the sheriff’s office had been dark, as Graham prepared to leave.

Gold’s first clue that something was wrong was the thud of a body against the floor. One moment, he was breaking up with his girlfriend over the phone, and a minute later he was dead.

Lacey had looked for a pulse.

They had hesitated for so long that they should have heard the ambulance coming. If the girlfriend had called emergency services.

Which she hadn’t done.

“Papa, please,” Neal said. “Graham was okay.”

Gold never could live to his son’s expectations.

He still tried.

“Lace?”

Lacey wore a troubled look. “I just want us to be together,” she said, her longing almost tangible. Then she shrugged, and halted the car. “But good men deserve justice.”

Gold glanced out at the welcome sign by the road, thinking of the few yards that separated them from freedom.

He didn’t owe Graham any favors.

Dead sheriffs were even less useful.

“Fine,” he heard himself say, working out the details as fast as he could. “We stay.”

Neal’s proud eyes cemented that choice.

Lacey reached out for him, entangling their fingers together. “Okay. This still isn’t the worst decision I’ve made.”

Gold laughed, then set down a plan. “We go to the cabin and regroup there. You two will need to return to town, act surprised when I’m not at the sheriff’s office.” Lacey nodded, and though hesitant, Neal did too. “Graham had a girlfriend, so if whoever comes to investigate doesn’t pay attention to Graham’s love life, make sure to point them that way.”

It was Lacey’s turn to hesitate. “I thought they’d just started dating. Poison as a second date doesn’t seem likely.”

Gold shook his head. “No. This has been going on longer than that.” After a while, the sheriff had more or less considered him as part of the furniture. “I’ve overheard enough phone calls to know that.”

Lacey raised an eyebrow. “Give me a bastard anyway,” she said, bringing their joined hands up for a quick kiss. “It’s the quiet ones who are trouble.”

Neal grimaced. “Ew. Again.” He made a show of rolling his eyes toward the roof, away from them. “And what do you mean?”

“That good, sweet Sheriff Graham had two girlfriends. Because that first date I was talking about? She arrived in town only a couple weeks ago.”

“Still a suspect.”

Lacey shrugged. “Maybe. But poison isn’t like her.”

“Too innocent?”

“Too tough,” Lacey said. “She is upfront about everything. She would have kicked the cheating prick where it hurt, and then maybe set a bullet through his heart. Wouldn’t blame her for it, too. If I found out—”

“A real charmer,” Gold cut in before Lacey could go into details. He preferred to admire her bloodthirsty ways without his son’s attentive ears taking every word. “But if you know this woman, that’s great. She’ll need a shoulder to cry on if she doesn’t know.”

“Or a free round of drinks when she finds out.”

Gold glanced at her. First Sister Astrid and now this newcomer. He’d forgotten how easily Lacey made friends. “Just make sure she doesn’t add anything to your drink.”

Lacey scoffed, turning the car around. “Nah. Don’t worry. Emma is okay, really.”

Gold blinked.

Rumpelstiltskin took a moment to consider the situation. His son was here. His true love was here.

The Savior was in town.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he said, throwing an arm around Baelfire despite the boy’s half-hearted protest. “I’m sure your new friend won’t disappoint.” The End 31/12/22

#fandom: ouat #2: belle/rumpelstiltskin #ch: Belle #ch: rumpelstiltskin #ch: baelfire

10 notes · View notes

deliriumsdelight7 · 2 years

Text

TMI Tuesday

Goodbye, two week vacation. I didn’t get HALF the shit done I said I would. But the rest was very much needed.

Last week, I managed to crank out the next chapter of One More Time, Steal My Breath. I was a bit nervous about this one, because I know this particular kink isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. It’s gratifying to know that, while this chapter may have been a squick for some, it didn’t chase you all off!

Currently, I’m working on some good old fashioned Hellcheer monsterfucking. I’m trying really, REALLY hard to keep it relatively brief, but my muse really doesn’t like simple plots. I’m going to try and make this an open-ended oneshot. That way, if I ever want to return to this playground, I can, but if not, hopefully readers will be relatively satisfied.

(Oh god I’m totally gonna fuck this up.)

After this is done, I’d really like to go back to Rumbelle and Anyelle for a bit. I’ll still be writing Hellcheer, but there are two fics I’d really like to try and wrap up soonish. Plus, with the holiday season coming, I’m gonna need some fluff.

I’m also working on events! Gifts for the Hellcheer Gift Exchange are due in less than a week. I can’t wait to see what everyone comes out with!

With November fast approaching, the Rumbelle Secret Santa will be taking sign-ups soon. I’ll be posting from the @rumbellesecretsanta blog on that soon.

Finally, we’ve got @the-chipped-cup-awards coming up! I posted an updated nomination category list on Sunday. It’s still pretty long, but we tried to compress it a bit in order to make it a bit easier for people to nominate their favorites.

Whew. That’s, uh… that’s a lot. Anyway. I’m here all day!

#tmi tuesday

5 notes · View notes

smutwithplot · 1 year

Link

This is SUUUUUUUPER LATE, but my primary on-the-go writing tool is a tablet that... Erm. Well, I lost my bluetooth keyboard for it randomly a couple weeks ago. And my laptop is a cheap piece of trash, and trying to format my notes from Notion onto AO3 via my mobile was a nightmare, BUT I JUST GOT A NEW COMPUTER, SO HERE IT IS!!!

This story is a #RumbelleSecretSanta gift for @elanorjane, who gave me the prompt of "small business, evil corporation, Christmas", and my first thought was You've Got Mail (1998). And yes, I watched it, AND The Shop Around the Corner (1940), neither of which are much of a hardship, naturally. I mean, REALLY. You will never ever EVER hear me complain about watching the incomparable Jimmy Stewart in fucking anything. So, here it is! A steamy, #Rumbelle giftshop!AU. It's still a WIP, but I'm already a week into January and haven't posted it, thanks to some technical difficulties, WHICH I'VE FIXED WITH A SHINY NEW COMPUTER!!! so, enjoy.

Three chapters are up at the moment, I have two more already MOSTLY written (one of those, “Wanna go home and check my notes for another movie quote rendition” type things), but now that I have my computer, that’ll happen. But I want to at least get it published, because BOY HOWDY IS THIS LATE.

#rumbelle secret santa #RSS2022 #rumbelle #fanfiction #fanfic #crossover #Rumbelle AU #You've Got Mail

3 notes · View notes

shipperqueen93 · 1 year

Text

In other news I forget I still have access to the @rumbellesecretsanta blog still and occasionally reblog things to it instead of my own blog.... my bad

1 note · View note

avatoh · 3 years

Text

MERRY X-MAS NOTALWAYSLATE: Rumbelle Secret Santa

@notalwayslate : Hope I answered the prompt:

A03

She caught his eye as soon as she walked into his shop, his head jerking up as soon as the bell over the door rang.

Her name was Belle French and she was in town visiting her parents who owned the flower shop ‘Game of Thorns’ down the street. He had seen her around town a lot as of late; but he never quite had gotten the chance to talk to her since she’d been back, which was odd since they always had conversations that lasted for hours within a day or two of her arriving back into town. Her presence had been a yearly occurrence for nearly a decade, for as long as her parents, the older couple had lived in Storybrooke. Sometimes Belle was in town for as long as three months, sometimes she just stayed a week or two but she was always around during Christmas.

He had first stumbled upon her when he was collecting rent at the flower shop about 8 years ago. She had been covering the counter while her parents were away and he still remembered the day as if it were yesterday. She had been trimming the stems off of a bushel of roses and making a huge bouquet, very intent in her work. He had been absolutely stunning. There was a ray of light shining into the shop, hitting her just right, highlighting her chestnut curls and eyelashes as she intently focused on her work. The moment had been all too surreal, like it was out of a dream or movie of some sort. He hesitated to walk closer, afraid of running the moment. He felt something stir inside him for the first time in a long time that day that would be the bud of almost a decade of on again, off again, pinning and emotional suffering; of the anguish of never quite finding the right words to tell her how he really felt.

They made a bit of a connection that first day as he and she exchanged a handful of words. She didn’t fear him and made him exercise his mind and trip over his words as they spoke. She caught him off guard and twisted his tongue and made him feel like she had the upper hand on him when it was usually him who had the upper hand on everybody else. One thing for sure was that she was a most peculiar woman.

Belle never stayed quite long enough for him to scare her off or to succumb to town gossip. “It’s nice to see you again Mr. Gold!” is always what she would say without fail when she came back into town. Being around her made him feel shy and she almost always caught him off guard, which was a super strange thing for him since usually he considered himself quite the guarded person. There was just something about her that made him stumble and feel quite like a fool.

There had been a number of attempts on his part to appear collected and resolute when talking to her, but always she said or spoke of things that made him take a long pause to think about his next words and even on a few occasions, she made him stutter, which was very unbecoming of him. Belle had a way with her words and a unique way of thinking that he admired. But he would be remiss to not notice that there was always some weird sort of tension and awkwardness between them whenever they spoke or interacted. He could have sworn that she liked trying to get the upper hand on him and for some reason, it didn’t annoy him in the slightest, simply because it was her.

“Miss French. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he said as she walked further into his shop.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to accompany me to the town hall Christmas ball on Sunday?”

“Excuse me?” She'd been back in town about a week, hadn’t spoken to him, hadn’t even waved to him or seen him in the street and now she was here in his show inviting him to a dance when they hadn’t acknowledged each other in 7 months. Was he hearing her correctly? “You’re inviting me to the Christmas dance? You know I never go.”

“Maybe you can go this year. With me,” she added.

“Why?” he asked her cautiously.

“Why not?”

Once again she really had caught him off guard in the most unexpected way. “Very well,” he said without giving the proposal much of a second thought.

“Really!”

“Sure.”

Belle quickly reached out her hand to shake his. “Alright. You can’t go back on your word now, we shook on it. Pick me up at 6 on Sunday.” She turned to leave. “Good to see you again, by the way.”

“You as well, Miss French.” He gave her a bit of a nod and found himself cracking a bit of a smile as she left, immediately feeling panic set in. He was going to be going to a dance with Belle. Why had she chosen him over all the men in Storybrooke, surely there were men more suited to her tastes that she probably had more in common with than him? He never went to the town gatherings, much less dances. What if this was an elaborate joke at his expense? She wouldn’t do that, he told himself, but this was still an odd thing to ask of him. He usually hated these sorts of things.

It was a Tuesday. He still had some time to think about her offer, still some time to back out to spend the evening alone. He didn’t hate Christmas and dances per-say, but a lot of people made a bigger deal about it than they should. Christmas was a fine holiday but all the Christmas movies, songs, the red and green, the oversaturation of it all seemed like a bit too much most of the time. It was a good time for his Pawnshop and Antiques business, he supposed.

This wasn’t a date: he had told himself this Tuesday night, a few hours after her invitation. This wasn’t a date, how could it be? They were just two acquaintances that saw each other every now and then who had nice conversations that he really looked forward to. They were friends of sorts, if he could even call it that. A date would mean that they had feelings for each other. He had admitted to himself years back that he did indeed have feelings for her, but she never gave so much of an indication that she did as well for him.

If he was going to be honest with himself, he didn’t give her really any indication that he liked her as well. She wasn’t even around all year round, she clearly had something to go back to. He remembered years back that once she brought up the fact she had a boyfriend, he wasn't sure if she still had one, but she could. He tried his best to not think of her like that following that occasion. Despite this, he always just seemed a wreck whenever she came into town, he would be fine then his world would completely change in an instant as soon as he laid eyes on her again.

Every instance of them meeting for the first time in awhile was like how he felt the first time he had seen her. There was just something about her presence that just resonated with him and made him want to get to know here better. Getting to know her was a whole other story though. He was constantly choked up around her. And when he did open his mouth, every word and topic just seemed increasingly awkward and unlike him. He remembered their infamous chance meeting at Grannies Dinner 4 years back when he ranted about ketchup for a solid three minutes like the fool in love that he was. He was his own biggest annoyance and knew on Sunday he was going to be the most awkward man alive on the planet. Not that it mattered anyway.

The days ticked on and eventually Friday fell; he still hadn’t seen Belle since the incident, but he did keep an eye out for her when he was around town but he never happened to see her. Friday was the day he was due to collect rent at her parent’s Flower shop, he kept on thinking about what he would say if he saw her there. Something along the lines of, “See you on Sunday,” to confirm that they were indeed still on for Sunday but he had to say it in a way that wouldn’t look too over-eager, but still acknowledged that he was aware that they had a planned outing together.

Game of Thorns was next place to collect on his list and he was dreading and looking forward to the possibility of seeing Belle. She usually was around when he was there to collect rent and this is when they usually chatted. A coincidence, it probably was, but he couldn’t say for sure.

He walked into the small shop and was met with Colette French at the counter. He frowned with disappointment, now this was odd. “Oh, Hello, Mr. Gold.”

“Hello, Mrs. French. I’ve come for the rent.”

“As usual,” Colette said, handing over a wad of cash in a folder that he slipped into his breast pocket.

“Thank you,” Gold said, about to leave.

“Mr. Gold,” Colette prompted, making him falter.

“Yes? What is it?”

“My daughter,” she said. “You are going to take her to the dance on Sunday, is that true? She’s very excited and won’t stop talking about it. Told me to say “hi” for her and that she’s sorry you two couldn’t have a chat today but she’s off with one of those friends of hers shopping for a dress.”

“Ah.” Gold paused, not expecting that.

“It’s just all so strange,” Colette said.

“What do you mean?” He had to keep his defenses up and at least address that last jab from Collette.

“Oh, heavens, I mean nothing by the word ‘strange’, just poor choice of words; it’s just that she hardly talks about wanting to go out with single men nowadays and all the years I’ve lived here I’ve never once seen you go out with anyone…”

“You’ve never seen me go out with someone? Oh, I see That’s actually none of your concern.”

There was an awkwardness in the air, Colette opened her mouth to respond but he just left. So, Belle was telling her parents, or at least her mother that she was going to the dance with him, and that she was excited by it, no less. This was thrilling news, to be sure. He had felt a bit rude about how he responded to Collette French’s comment. That was what usually happened when people made comments about it being strange that people would want to spend time with him, ect. His words are what he used to defend and protect himself but they often hurt him more than they helped him. Being far too quick and curt with no sort of response back is probably how he had managed to shun and separate himself from most of Storybrooke society. Perhaps he’d apologize next time he saw the elder Mrs, French or just slip back some of the rent money. How he spoke to her was exactly why he was hated. It was probably a good thing he couldn't speak with his usually ferocity around Belle.

The day of the ball, Gold could hardly work, usually he spent Sundays crunching numbers for his various enterprises, but he could hardly focus as the time ticked on. Ultimately, he had to call it a day a lot earlier than usual on account if not getting anything done. It would be better to focus on getting ready for the ball anyway. In the days prior, he had gotten his suit cleaned and a small trim at the barbers, all he had to do was decide between the two ties he was thinking of then pick out a complimentary pocket square to complete the look.

He was ready and dressed quite early and was just sitting there in his suit hours before he needed to be.The thought of drinking crossed his mind, but he forwent that idea. The minutes ticked by and soon it was only a half hour until he was due to pickup Belle. He could hardly wait any longer and decided that he would head over early. Hopefully he wouldn’t be such a nervous wreck once he saw her. He had practically been panicking for hours and it was quite unbecoming of him; she shouldn’t see him like that.

Gold arrived at “Game of Thorns’ and the house that was attached to it to find the building quite empty. No lights, no sign of movement. Gold had gone around back to the house and fear crept in his mind once again. What if Colette French were to open the door and was mad at him for the way he spoke to her? He’d have to apologize and then explain to Belle how he had been awful to her mother and l undeserving of her, it's what he should do regardless if the woman opened the door or not. What if Maurice French opened the door and didn’t expect to see him there or know that he was taking his daughter to the ball? The man would probably never forgive him for that. He crossed his fingers as he knocked on the door, hopping not to have to deal with more awkwardness than Belle.

“Just a minute!” he heard Belle’s voice call out to his relief. Her reply was accompanied by a few loud thuds and a sound of clattering. Belle opened the door a few moments later and she looked gorgeous. “Come on in, I’m just finishing my makeup.”

He hesitated at the threshold. “If you don’t mind, I think I rather-”

“Nonsense!” Belle pulled him in. “Nobody else is home anyway, if that’s what you’re worried about. Please sit, it’s far too cold outside and I’ll only be a moment longer.” She disappeared into the next room over. Gold looked around. He had been in this house and room a few times while collecting rent, but he mostly did his collecting in the attached flower shop. It had changed since he had last seen it. He didn’t know whether to keep his eyes transfixed on an object in front of him or to allow himself to look around. He stayed mainly focused at the wall in front of him but started to look around as the minutes ticked on.

Belle had shocked him so much when he met her at the door. She had dressed up considerably, he couldn’t really remember seeing her pull out all the belles and whistles like this, even at the previous dances that he had only seen in passing. She was stunning regularly but now she had on jewelry, a nice rose scented perfume, and the most gorgeous satin green dress that most certainly made him feel things. Once again, she had left him speechless and in awe of her.

Belle had been a little longer than five minutes when she finally came out again. This time she had a shawl on and had finished her makeup. Her lips were candy apple red but looked more delectable than the sweet treat itself. “Sorry, I took a little longer than I expected,” she said a little sheepishly.

Gold was up on his feet in a fraction of a second. “No worries.” He should tell her how beautiful she looks, he thought. “You look stunning,” he said quickly before realizing that the words had left his mouth.

“Oh, thank you. You look quite dashing yourself. It looks like we match too.”

He looked down at his tie and pocket square which complimented her dress and bright red lips and was glad that he had chosen this ensemble. “It appears so.”

Belle let out a little laugh. “It’s good to chat with you again Mr. Gold. How about we finish catching up in the car?”

The ride to the ball couldn’t have felt shorter.

It was a good 15 minutes to the town hall with the roads he took but the two of them were still comfortably chatting in the car 15 minutes after they had parked. Most of the awkwardness had melted away and the two of them had gotten to talk with one another, uninterrupted, awkwardly, longer than they had ever before. It was nice and the conversation flowed smoothly.

“Is there a reason that you decided to go to the ball with me, Belle?” he asked her. It had been the question on his mind, after all.

“Well, I wanted some arm candy to keep me company,” she teased. A false answer.

That was immediately when he became a mess again, stumbling over his words until he finally said they should probably get going and get to the dance. His confidence continued to falter as he felt that all eyes were on them. “Gold and her!? That poor girl,” he heard somebody say. Perhaps it was even what he deserved to hear, but it was something he wouldn’t stand for. He snapped back his head in the direction of the voice but couldn’t tell who it came from as everyone in the vicinity shrunk back in recoil. He was about to open up his mouth and shout at them when he felt Belle’s hand rest on his elbow, pulling him back.

“Don’t mind them. Please, let’s continue on.”

He felt his anger melt right out of his body. “Ok,” he said plainly. He was then introduced to some of Belle’s friends, women around her age and perhaps around his age who he had seen around town but hadn’t really talked to before due to not having any business dealings with him. They were polite, welcoming, and nice to both of them. They stood gathered in a group with them for about an hour before people began to break off and dance or mingle elsewhere. His leg being the way it was made him a clumsy dancer and he had spent the previous week hoping that she wouldn’t actually ask him to dance at the dance but knew the question would probably be unavoidable.

After the conversation with the group had filtered out and only a few of the uncoupled people they were talking to remained, he suggested out loud that Belle take one of them out on the dancefloor so he wouldn’t have to. Despite wanting to stay in her company, she did deserve to have a bit of fun for herself. “Oh, I was hoping to dance with you if that’s something you’re interested in?”

Gold shook his head. “I have two left feet and don’t make a great dance partner,” he said as he tapped his cane on the ground for emphasis.

“Does it hurt you to dance?”

“No.”

“You just don’t want to?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just been quite awhile and I can’t quite move certain ways or as fast as my partner.”

“Oh,” Belle said. “I don’t mind that at all. Would you be willing to try a slower song?”

“I’ll think about it, if the opportunity arises.” Not but one song later, the tempo of the new song signaled her to ask again, He reluctantly agreed to dance with her. She made him give in so easily. They danced to two songs before they retired to an alcove alone.

“That was fun.”

“It was,” Gold agreed. “But I need a bit of a break now.”

“That’s understandable, I’m a bit tired myself.”

They sat looking out at the crowd.

“Thank you,” Gold said.

“What for.”

“I- thank you for your company. I don’t really go to these sorts of things but I had fun tonight.”

“I did too, but the night’s not over.”

“True. But every time I see you, time feels too short. You always leave just when-”

“Just when what?”

“Just when I think you’re going to stay and grow used to your company.”

“I’m leaving the first week of the New Year. There’s still some time left.”

“But I want to get to know you better, have for years,” Gold said. “I-” he paused, fighting through the next few words. “Even though you are only going to be here a bit longer, would you consider going out with me again?”

“On a date?” Belle asked.

“Yes. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take you out on a date.”

“I’d like that very much Mr. Gold. I never thought you’d ask; that’s why i thought I’d be the one to ask you first, here.”

Gold flushed. “Is this a…”

“Well it didn’t have to be.” Belle was equally as red. “But I liked to think it was, and is, if you don’t mind. Each year I hoped you would ask me, but you never did, so it had to be me to ask you now. I- There’s something about you. From the moment I saw you I just couldn’t get over you and I'd like to get to know you better as well. I want to learn more about you and grow used to you if you’ll permit it.”

“I-”

“Merry Christmas,” Belle said, bringing her face closer towards his for a kiss.

#RumbelleSecretSanta #notalwayslate #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle secret santa #my fic

14 notes · View notes

rumbellesecretsanta · 1 year

Text

Sign-ups are OPEN!

Hello, all! I apologize for the late posting; for some reason, I got my dates mixed up and thought that today was the 12th.

Anyway - I’m happy to report that sign-ups for the RSS are now open from now until 11:59PM EST on Thursday the 24th.

Here’s what you need to know:

Rumbelle Secret Santa gifts are exchanged on December 27, and you must send your partner Anonymous Love at least once a week leading to that date. You must also enable your own Ask to accept messages from Anon, and publish replies to the Asks your Santa sends to you.

In order to receive a gift from one of our Secret Santas, you must agree to supply a gift to someone else. It’s a community-wide exchange, and it’s no fun if people don’t get into the spirit and MAKE A THING.

To sign up, send an email to [email protected].

We will not be accepting sign-ups via Ask, because we need a more reliable way than Tumblr to contact you.

You will need to include four things in your email:

1) Your Tumblr Username / URL

2) A 5-word (maximum) prompt for your Santa

3) Are you willing (but not guaranteed) to create and receive porn? YES SMUT or NO SMUT.

4) Are you willing (but not guaranteed) to work on an Anyelle prompt? YES ANYELLE or NO ANYELLE. If you give a prompt that specifically asks for Anyelle, you must be willing to fill someone else’s Anyelle prompt in return.

-4a) If YES ANYELLE, feel free to include preferred pairings you’d be interested in reading/writing

We will get back to you twice:

1) To tell you we got your enrollment and prompt, probably just a quick reply to your email.

2) To tell you who you will be Santa-ing and to give you a prompt to fill. This year, prompts will probably go out between November 25th and 26th.

If you would like a run-down of the rules, feel free to visit our Participation Page and our FAQ Page. If you have any additional questions/concerns, feel free to reach out to me via ask.

Looking forward to hearing from you!

-Del

#rumbelle secret santa #rss 2022

32 notes · View notes

joylee56 · 3 years

Link

A Rumbelle Secret Santa for eirian-houpe.

The men of Storybrooke are coming back from World War II. Belle is not sure this is a good thing. On top of the other problems landing on her shoulders she has to make a fancy bridesmaid gown and she can’t sew. Luckily the new tailor in town can help her with that at least. But will her growing acquaintance with him lead to more complications?

#eirian-houpe #joylee56 fanfic #At Least It's Not Made from Curtains #RumbelleSecretSanta

9 notes · View notes

notalwayslate · 4 years

Text

The Gold Rises Again.

Hello @Moonlight91 I was your Secret Santa. When I saw you prompted a Western, I was nervous, but when you explained that you watched the Mandalorian, which inspired the Western prompt, it lead me down this path. I hope you enjoy it!

Prompt: Western, Treasure Hunting, Storybrooke/Hyperion Heights Mashup

When a newspaper publishes a first hand account from a young woman of her past adventures with the lone masked vigilante, The Gold, it draws the unwanted attention of the Lost Boys gang. Believing the anonymous author is the key to finding their greatest nemesis, the gang launches a merciless search for her, forcing the Gold out of retirement to save the woman he loves.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21893782

The piano was hopping while the painted ladies of Roni’s saloon danced to the hoots and hollers of every cowboy, lumberjack, and gambler in the place. Every eye but one was filled with eager anticipation to see how high their nimble legs could go. Weaver sat alone tucked into a corner stool his back towards the show, nursing his third whiskey.

He wasn’t one for crowds, but the anniversary of today, had his body screaming for a shot of whiskey to numb the pain, and keep the memories of his son’s murder at bay. He felt a small brush against his right shoulder, as she hopped eagerly onto the stool next to him. His eyes never left his glass as he spoke.

“Does your father know you are here?”

“No, and I know you are not going to tell him either.” Tilly spun around in her stool to watch the saloon girls, or more specifically one saloon girl in particular. “Margot was so nervous since they added that new kick at the end, and I just wanted to be here for encouragement.”

Weaver couldn’t help but smile. He was one of only a handful of people who knew of the real relationship between Tilly and Margot. An unfortunate consequence of living in a small town such as Hyperion Heights was that small mindedness kept same sex love a forbidden taboo that had to be kept hidden from prying eyes.

“Oh no, you have got to go.” Roni suddenly appeared before them, a bottle of whiskey in hand. She poured Weaver another, as she spoke to Tilly. “I do not need your father breathing down my or my patron’s necks.”

“Oh relax, Roni. He went away on business. He probably won’t be back in town until later tonight.” Tilly countered, looking towards Weaver for any kind of assistance.

Weaver looked towards Roni. “Let the kid stay. I need her to help me get home.” Roni gave him a flat look, clearly not amused by his unwanted interference. She glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

“Well hello Sherriff Rogers, I trust your trip went well.”

“Oh, right, I’m not falling for that …” Tilly scoffed her words dying on her tongue as she spun in chair to indeed find her father standing before her, his arms crossed, with an unamused look on his face.

“I’ll just leave you three alone then shall I? Let me know if you need anything Sherriff Rogers,” Roni called out sweetly as she high tailed it to the other end of the bar.

Sipping on his newly poured glass of whiskey, Weaver sat silently listening to the Sherriff and his daughter go back and forth, engaging in the same argument that he had heard them have a hundred times before, his desire to keep his daughter safe matched with her desire to keep Margot safe.

“I have told you time and again Tilly that I have people here in the saloon to watch over her. Margot is as safe here as she would be at home.”

“Well if it’s so safe here then, why can’t I be here as well?”

Weaver couldn’t help but chuckle at her solid counterpoint. One of the things he loved most about Tilly was her willingness to fight, and protect the ones she loved. It reminded him of himself once, long ago. Clearly not amused by his laughter, Rogers narrowed his sights on Weaver.

“And you’re not helping matters either, when you let her get away with this when I’m out of town. You are supposed to be looking after her when I’m gone.”

“And here she is,” Weaver held up his hand towards Tilly. “Safe and sound and with me.”

Rogers sneered but Weaver could see the tiredness in his eyes. He must have ridden nonstop to get back home to his daughter as quickly as possible. He was a good father, a quality that Weaver admired most about the Sheriff. Using his foot, he kicked out the stool next to him, offering to buy his best friend a drink. Rogers sat down, and Roni quickly came over pouring him a shot. She glanced over at Tilly with a raised eyebrow, and Rogers held up his hand in defeat.

“As long as I am here, she can stay.”

Weaver could hear Tilly squeal behind them, as she turned to watch her girls’ big finale.

“You look like hell.” Weaver grumbled to Rogers.

“I feel like it.” Rogers rubbed his blood shot eyes. He had gone to the town of Sherwood to pick up the rest of Margot’s belongings from her father. “It was a long trip, but on the bright side of things at least I got to Sherwood after the Lost Boy gang had already left town.”

Weaver almost choked on the swig of whiskey he had just taken. With a trembling hand he placed the glass back down on the bar, turning to Rogers.

“What? That’s…that not possible. What was left of that gang dismantled years ago.”

“ I thought so as well, but it appears something has caused a reemergence from them. They barged into the publisher’s office of the Sherwood newspaper with guns drawn. Asked him a few questions then gunned him down in cold blood. The secretary hid under her desk. The poor gal is so badly shook, she can barely string two words together.”

Weaver was so caught up in a swarm of questions and fear, that he nearly jumped out of his skin as a burst of laughter and squeals exploded behind him.

“You were terrific Margot. The best one up there by far.” Tilly beamed as Margot joined her at the bar. Rogers turned to speak to them, but Weaver grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to stay put.

“What did they want from him? The publisher?”

Surprised by Weaver’s interest, Rogers continued. “She wasn’t sure, but thought it must have something to do with treasure hunting.”

“Why does she think that?” Weaver inquired as sweat pooled on his upper lip.

“She said after the gunshots, when they were walking out of the office, one of them mentioned the key to finding the gold was in Storybrooke.”

All of the breath left Weaver’s body. Storybrooke? No! It couldn’t be. It had to be a coincidence. There is no way they could have found her there. She was supposed to be safe there? He had stayed away from her all of this time to ensure it. It didn’t make sense.

“I don’t understand Rogers, what does the publisher have to do treasure hunting?”

Rogers shrugged. “I’m not really certain. I doubt Sherwood newspaper published any treasure maps leading to gold. Maybe he stumbled upon a treasure map or something, and they found out.”

“Wait did you just mention the Sherwood newspaper and gold?” Margot asked, causing Weaver and Rogers to turn around to look at her.

“What do you know about it?” Weaver asked.

“I can’t believe you people in Hyperion Heights haven’t read the story of The Gold,” she shook her head looking at Tilly with a smile. “You weren’t kidding, when you told me I was going to be moving to a small town.”

Weaver didn’t have the time or patience to be cordial. “Story? What story?”

“Oh the story of the armored masked gunslinger, the Gold. Oh you would love the story, Tilly,” Margot turned smiling. “It has everything, gun fights, revenge, and of course romance. The newspaper back home published it by an anonymous author almost two months ago. It got a lot of buzz. I heard other newspapers were picking it up as well. I can’t believe you guys have never heard of it.”

Weaver bristled in his seat. His feud with the Lost Boys gang was supposed to have been over. They thought he was dead, and he laid low in this small town for years, under the assumed name Weaver. He had stayed away from her all of this time to ensure her safety. And now…with one published story, they were after her once again.

The publisher of the newspaper must have told them where the author of the story lived, which set them on their revenge filled path to Storybrooke, to her. He needed to get back to his ranch. He had buried his armor and helmet under the old Oak tree near his barn. The Gold could not stay buried anymore. He had to protect her. He had to go to Storybrooke.

Jefferson hazily watched the blood drip from his nose onto his newly pressed pants. It was not the first time a man had him tied up, but unfortunately for him, this was not one of his more pleasurable experiences.

“We know you delivered The Gold story to the Sherwood Newspaper?” The taller dirty blonde hair man shouted. “Now I know you weren’t the damsel in distress in the story, no matter how much you wish you were.” The man harassed him with a snide tone. “So here is what is going to happen.” He sat down before Jefferson, pulling out a switch blade from his pocket. “I’m going to ask you where the real author of that story is, and you are going to tell me. If not, I’m going to cut off a finger for every time I need to ask you.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Jefferson pleaded, but soon let out a small yelp, as the man loosened the rope enough to grab Jefferson’s pinky finger. He could feel the blade against the skin of his finger, but knew he would rather die than give them her name. He closed his eyes bracing for the pain, when two gunshots rang out, followed by two large thuds to the ground.

Slowly he opened one eye, and the other, surprised to see both men lying dead on the ground. Looking around confused, a true smile of relief appeared on his face, as a familiar metal figure emerged from the shadows.

Although it had been five years since he last saw him, he looked the exact same. Well of course he would look the same, Jefferson thought to himself, the suit hid any changes time may have caused.

“My friend, you are a sight for sore eyes, I assure…” Jefferson’s pleasantry was cut short, by the quick fist to his face.

“Why would you ever let her publish anything about me? What were you possibly thinking Jefferson? I charged you to look after her, to protect her in Storybrooke, and instead you allowed her location and identity to be compromised.”

“Listen, I understand you are upset, but…” Jefferson’s eyes widened as The Gold bent down, picking up the switchblade from the dead man’s hand. “Wait, no wait a second,” he yelled as the Gold approached him, but his pleas were soon silenced, as Gold cut the ropes, freeing Jefferson from the chair. He quickly stood, bringing a hankerchief from his pocket to hold up against his nose.

“Like I could have stopped her from doing it. When I learned that she was writing the story, I told her it wasn’t a good idea. But…it’s been five years. I figured you would have probably killed the rest of the Lost Boys gang by now and well…” Jefferson paused for a moment. “The girl has been pining for you for years now. You broke her heart, Gold. I thought maybe writing this might help her to once and for all get over you. Besides, I told her it had to anonymous. I personally delivered the story an old friend of mine in Sherwood. It’s over two hundred miles away from here. I never thought any harm would come from it.”

“Well the two dead men on the floor prove you wrong Jefferson.”

“It would appear so.” Jefferson brought his blood covered napkin down from his face, once again smiling at the part man, part machine before him. “Well no matter the circumstance, it’s good to see you again.”

“Where is she?”

“You aren’t really a conversationalist are you?” He would have teased him further, but he could detect the concern in his old friend’s voice. Jefferson grinned at him.

“I’ll take you to her.” X

5 years ago...

Belle wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there as the rays from the newly rising sun, shown down on his sleeping form. She smiled as her eyes drank in every line and slope on his slumbering face. He was a tad older than she had expected, but she could not deny how handsome he was. The armor had made him seem bigger, but as he lay there she could see although he was lean, his muscles were toned. Her fingers longed to reach out and touch his shoulder length brown hair. It was such a pity that he hid it from her under a helmet for all of this time.

It was strange to see him, really see him for the first time. It was mere weeks ago that he had saved her from her darkened fate. Her father, a gambler and alcoholic , had taken it upon himself to forfeit her to pay off a gambling debt to a member of the Lost Boy gang. With a quick kiss to her forehead and a quicker apology he had handed her over to the foul scoundrel without a second thought. They had been riding for a day, when he had to stop to use the bathroom behind a bush, and Belle took her shot for any type of escape. Although it was mostly desert, she ran, ran as far away from him as possible, but unfortunately her small legs were no match for the taller man's pursuit.

He had tackled her to the ground, claiming he wanted to sample the goods, when out of the clear blue sky a masked man covered in some sort of metal appeared, and killed her attacker. Belle watched silently, as he collected a small journal from her attacker’s satchel, before turning his attention back to her. She felt a moment of fear as the armored man approached her, but soon let out a sigh of relief, as he reached his hand out to help her stand.

Without a word, he motioned for her to follow him, which she did without question. Once at his horse, he hopped on, extending his hand to help her up as well. They rode for hours before she opened her mouth to speak to him. Every question she asked was met with total silence from him. Belle was starting to think that he was mute, when he finally stopped and dismounted his horse, once again offering his hand to her to dismount.

"It's late. Sleep. Tomorrow I'll take you to the nearest town." He finally spoke as he positioned himself against a rock, still in his full armor. With his face hid she could not tell if he was truly sleeping, or just watching her.

For some unknown reason she trusted him completely and found herself sleeping sound that night, knowing he was close by to protect her. The next morning when she awoke, she wasn’t surprised to see him awake, still in his full armor, sitting nearby looking at the journal that he had taken from her attacker. When she sat up he quickly closed the book, putting it off to his side.

“Eat,” he told her motioning to the cornbread that he left out before her in a folded up napkin. Silently she ate her breakfast, watching wide eyed, as he got up, and moved to load up his horse. He brought over a tin cup, pouring water into it from his canteen. Thanking him with a smile, he continued to busy himself, as she eyed the journal lying on the rock. She loved a good book.

“It isn’t right for young girls to read, and start getting ideas,” her father use to scold her, whenever he caught her with a book in hand. Taking a peak over her right shoulder, she confirmed he was focused on hitching up his saddle, before stretching out her arms, to snatch the journal. Opening it, she saw no words, but numbers, listed in columns, followed by random symbols. It was a code she surmised. She had read that it was not uncommon for outlaws to develop their own ways of communication, to outwit the law.

Biting her lip, she focused on the first column, trying to decipher some sort of pattern, when suddenly, the journal was ripped from her hands.

“Hey!” she shouted quickly standing, and following him.

“Get on the horse,” he called out over his shoulder. “It’s time you go to town.”

Belle felt a pang of sadness at his words. Town. Great, she thought to herself. Chances would be the Sheriff of whatever town he was taking her to, would probably send her back to her no good father. How long would it be before he sold her again to his next creditor? No, she couldn’t go back to him. She had to make her own fate. Be brave.

“Wait. Please, I don’t want to go to town.” She was surprised when he abruptly stopped turning around to look at her. She waited a moment for him to speak, but as he continued to look at her with total silence she knew this might be the only chance she had. As she started talking she was astonished how much of her life story came tumbling from her mouth. She spoke how her mother died during child birth, and of her father’s gambling and drinking problems. She recounted how he had sold her to the gang to pay off his debt, and how she had no doubt he would do it again.

She spoke till she had no more words left. She looked at him to gage his reaction, but his helmet hid his every emotion. Desperatly she waited with baited breath, until he finally spoke.

“I understand better than anyone what it is like to have snake as a father. A father that puts his own needs above his child’s.” His voice was quiet, strained. “But this is no place for a woman. I have a job to do. I will take you town. What you do from there…that is your own choice to make.” He turned back to the horse, preparing to mount it, when Belle shouted out.

“The first column is times.” He froze mid motion, slowly bringing his leg back down on the ground, pushing himself away from the horse. Seeing she had his full attention, she continued. “I…I need more time to decipher the rest, but every number in the first column ended in a 5 or 0. The trains leave and arrive every quarter hour.”

“You understand this?” he approached her digging the journal out from his own pocket. “I’ve been trying for months to decipher what it all meant, and you are telling me that you just broke it in minutes?” He sounded annoyed but a tad amazed.

“Let me stay with you. At least for a while. I’m good at codes and puzzles. I can help you. I promise you, I can be more of an asset to you than a problem.”

When he tossed her the journal, she tried to contain her squeal of excitement. It appeared their plans for going to town had changed.

Over the next few days together, they were able to decipher the locations and times of where the Lost Boys would strike next, based off the codes in the stolen journal. He would let her watch from a distance, as he single handedly, stopped robbery after robbery.

Although they had worked together well, she still knew so very little about him. He rarely spoke, and although she did enough talking for the both of them, she longed to see who he was beneath the mask. She was surprised to learn that he had built a few suits of armor, that he had stashed in caves, and along the desert. She was tempted to ask him if he could make her a suit of armor, but she knew he would never allow her close enough to the action, where she could possibly get hurt. Although she felt they were growing closer, there was still so much she didn’t know.

Every night, he would leave her, finding high ground to sleep, but still being close enough to keep a watchful eye over her. She often dreamt of him, of taking off his mask, and kissing him. Her desire to see him without his helmet grew more with every passing day. Her curiosity finally won out one night, as she snuck up to where he lay. She covered her mouth with her hand to contain her excitement, as she saw him fast asleep without his armor on.

His nose twitched, and she could sense that he was starting to wake up. She went to leave before he did, but a twig snapped under her foot. His reaction time to the noise was the quickest she had ever witnessed. Before she could blink, he was sitting up, his revolver pointed directly at her. It took him a moment to shake the sleep from his eyes, and realize that he was in fact pointing his gun at her. With a look of shame, he lowered it, grumbling an immediate apology. She continued to stare directly into his eyes, and could see the exact moment it dawned on him that he was not wearing his mask. He turned his back, fumbling for the helmet that lay close by, when she placed a hand on his back. He stilled at her touch.

“You don’t need to wear it. I mean what’s the point now. It’s just the two of us, and I’ve already seen what you look like.”

She could feel how hard he was breathing, and removed her hand from his back. This was too much for him. She didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. She stood up, leaving to go back to her campsite, fully expecting for him to follow once he had put on his armor. Her breath caught, as she saw him out of the corner of her eye, walking beside her without his armor.

It was from then on, that every night, she looked into his soft brown eyes before she bid him goodnight before succumbing to sleep .

She had been with him for almost a month and a half when she finally approached him with a question that she had been longing to ask.

“Why do you go after the Lost Boys?”

“Their criminals.”

“Yes,” she acknowledged. “But they aren’t the only gangs in existence. You specifically only go after them…like it’s personal for you. Why?”

She expected nothing but silence, but was ecstatic when he trusted her enough to answer.

“My father was the founder of the gang.”

Stunned by the confession, Belle listened intently, as Gold talked of his father being a liar and conman, who stole from anyone, including his own son, without a second thought. After time, Malcolm had recruited mostly young boys to help him with his scams and crimes, and soon the Lost Boys gang was formed.

“He wanted me to be a part of it. Lie. Cheat. Steal. It wasn’t for me. I resisted. I got married young, had a son. His mother wanted nothing to do with the babe. Left him, left me. I raised him, but when he was 10 years old, my father Malcolm had come to town. Wanted to take him. He told me, he wanted his own flesh and blood to one day lead the gang, and since I was too thin skinned and a coward, he was going to make sure his grandson wasn’t.”

Belle could hear the emotion in his voice, as her heart broke for him.

“ Bae didn’t want to go with him. He struggled to get out of his grasp, and my father….” His voice cracked with sorrow, and Belle quickly got up to sit down next to him. She didn’t know what to say, so she wrapped her arm around him, and placed her head against his shoulder.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me.”

After a few moments of silence, Gold continued.

“I tried to help him. I tried to help my boy, but by the time I could reach him, my father shot me in my leg. I collapsed, and then Bae screamed and bit him. As my boy was running to me, he shot him. He killed my boy right before my eyes.”

Belle felt his body shake beneath her, as she held on to him as tight as she could. She couldn’t imagine the heartbreak, that comes from losing a child. She wished she could take away his pain, but knew that this was a heartbreak that there was no cure for.

“So I killed the bastard. He was walking out of the house, like nothing had happened. Like he just didn’t kill his grandson, and so I shot him Belle. I shot and killed the son of bitch.”

She brought one hand up to stroke his hair, as he sniffled, drawing back his tears. “I had nothing left. I was weak. I failed my boy. I thought of offing myself right then and there, but their were no bullets left in the gun.”

Belle understood now, why he had devoted his life to taking down this gang. He built an armor to protect himself not just from bullets but from the rest of the world. She made a silent plea right then and there, that she would do anything and everything in her power to help the man before her. She knew that she had been falling in love with him over the last month, but now she knew for certain that her heart belonged to him. She watched as he wiped the tears from his eyes, swallowing his pain in order to compose himself. She didn’t want him to hide from her, like he did from the rest of society under his helmet and armor.

With a shaking breath, she placed her hands on his cheeks, and brought her lips to his. She tasted the salt of his tears, but as he wrapped his arms around her, he pulled her tight against him, as he deepened the kiss.

“You are not alone anymore,” she whispered to him and saw a look of amazement build in his puppy brown eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Belle.”

“I am so full Ruby. Tell Granny that her biscuits and gravy keep getting better and better,” Belle smiled as the waitress cleared her plate from the table.

“So did you give anymore thought to going out with Will?”

Belle sighed at her friend’s insistence on bringing up her love life, or lack thereof, every time she saw her.

“I don’t Ruby, he’s a nice guy, but I’m just trying to focus on other things in life right now. I don’t need to settle down and get married right this second, you know?”

“I know but in the five years I have known you Belle, you have not had one single date. The only man you ever hang around is Jefferson, and well…we all know Jefferson’s interests lay elsewhere,” Ruby whispered giving her a wink. Before Belle could reply, Leroy barked across Granny’s Café about needing another cup of coffee, leaving Ruby to scurry across the room towards him.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to settle down and raise a family. She wanted that more than anything, but the only man she ever had the desire to do so with, left her with nothing but a broken heart. Besides, she had aspirations now. Her writing had really taken off. Jefferson had told her the newspaper wanted the next part of her saga, The Gold, within the next month, and although her success came with anonymity, she still felt a sense of pride for her writing.

After leaving Granny’s she made her way across town, stopping a few times to exchange pleasantries with the town folk. As she stopped and spoke with all the finely dressed gentleman, and ladies, she couldn’t help but wonder how they would look at her if they knew of the adventures that she had been on five years earlier. Would they ever have guessed that the well-mannered proper woman before them, spent four months with a masked vigilante, and assisted in bringing down one of the most notorious gangs in history by decoding their criminal plans?

But that life seemed like a lifetime ago, she thought to herself, as she entered her apartment. As she went to hang up her coat, a creak in the floorboard alerted her that she was not alone. As quick as a flash, she turned around, pointing her revolver that she had drawn from her skirt, at the assailant.

“Jefferson,” she breathed out, quickly putting the gun down. “You scared the life out of me. Where were you? I had to eat breakfast alone, and you know when I eat alone Ruby always…” her words died on her tongue as she saw her past walk into the room behind Jefferson.

She instinctively knew it was him, really him underneath the helmet. She was all too familiar his walk and stance. Her stomach fluttered with excitement, or anger. She wasn’t quite sure which would be better. She stared at him for way too long, before realizing her mouth was hanging open. She wasn’t sure what to say, and so she just stood there, waiting for him to make the first move. Awkward silence hung in the air between them. God, he was as infuriating as ever.

After minutes of silence, Jefferson finally broke tension. “Well listen, I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do,” he clapped his hands before him. “So I’m going to go to your room, and pack you a bag, and then we can all leave then.”

His words finally shook her out of her fixed stare on Gold. “Pack? Leave? You think I’m going to leave with him?” She gestured her hands towards Gold. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She stated firmly, looking straight at his helmet. He stood there silently, tilting his head to the side, and she could feel his muted annoyance with her. God, why didn’t he just speak?

“Yes, well we don’t have much of a choice here Belle, so I’m just going to go pick you out a few things, and I will be sure to pack your favorite blue dress, and we shall be on our way.” Jefferson’s disregard to her insistence that she was not leaving infuriated her even more. She had one man in the room refusing to speak, and the other who would not stop spoke speaking, and she needed to figure out what the hell was going on. She turned to Jefferson who was already walking towards her bedroom when she screamed at him to stop. When he turned back around, she could see clearly now his bruised face.

“Oh my God, Jefferson what happened to you?” her anger quickly subsided as she ran over to him cupping his face in her hands.

“I’m alright, Belle. Gold saved me.”

“From who?” she asked confused.

“From you.” The sharpness of Gold’s voice cut her like a hot knife through butter, as he uttered his first words to her in five years. She turned in a fury, her blue eyes blazing, as she stared him down. How dare he even suggest that she would have anything to do with harming Jefferson, the only man in her life that never left her. He was more than a best friend, he was like a brother to her. She rapidly approached Gold, stopping just mere inches from his armored self.

“How dare you!” she screamed at him.

“How dare you!” he countered back his tone clipped. “How could you possibly think it was a good idea to publish a story…my story, for all to read?”

Heart racing, every built up ounce of anger that she had walled up over the last five years, came bubbling to the surface. “It’s my story, I was there with you unless you have forgotten.”

“Well, thanks to your sound judgement, on OUR story, you sent a come and find me challenge to Felix and the rest of the Lost Boys. They already murdered the publisher of the Sherwood newspaper to find out where you were. I just killed two of them here in Storybrooke. And don’t think that is the end of it. When Felix’s scouts don’t return in the next day or so, they will all be coming here to find you.”

Belle opened her mouth to respond, but quickly snapped it back closed. She had taken certain steps to ensure that no one would know she wrote the piece, but it appears she wasn’t safe enough, and now she had put Jefferson and the whole town of Storybrooke in danger for it. She turned to look at Jefferson, but he had already disappeared into her bedroom, no doubt packing up her items. She couldn’t just leave. If the Lost boys were coming to town, they would hurt every resident in the town to find out who the author was.

She couldn’t let that happen.

“I can’t leave. If they are coming here, I can’t let the entire town of Storybrooke pay for my mistake.” She could hear Jefferson bustling about in her bedroom, as she moved to the settee to sit down.

“We need to get you somewhere safe. I won’t let any harm come to you.”

Scoffing she tried to fight the tears that stung her eyes. “You won’t let anyone harm me huh? I guess that rule doesn’t apply to you, now does it?” He turned his back, but she wouldn’t let him close her off so easy this time. “Why did you leave me?” Her question was met with an all too familiar silence. “I loved you. You told me you loved me…and then I wake up one morning, and you were just gone.”

The pain of that day burned itself into her heart. She found little consolation that he had sent one of his lackey’s Jefferson with a bag full of gold, and instructions to set her up with the life she deserved in Storybrooke.

“We don’t have time for this,” he scolded his voice void of emotion. “You need to get out of town.”

“I already told you, I’m not leaving Storybrooke to fend for its self.” She held her breath, as he walked straight towards her, stopping just mere inches from her. Heat coiled in her belly at having him so near.

“It won’t have to. I’m going to settle this once and for all.”

Gold knew that there was only one way to end this vendetta with the Lost Boys, and that was to face Felix one on one. He would head out to the outskirts of town. If they were coming from Sherwood he was certain that they would be coming from the West. He needed to find the high ground, and with some luck, who would be able to pick most of them off, before he was taken.

Jefferson had already spoken to the town sheriff, Graham, and informed him of the situation. All of the town’s residents evacuated during the night, leaving the town of Storybrooke, pretty much a ghost town. Everyone had left at the Sherriff’s orders, everyone but Belle and Jefferson.

He had tried to prepare himself for the whirl of emotions he would feel in seeing her again, but nothing could ever prepare him for her. She was still as beautiful and feisty as ever. God, he had missed her, and through the hurt and anger he saw in her eyes, he could see that she had missed him just as much. Even after five years, the attraction between them was as strong as ever, and just being in her presence was enough to bring him to his knees.

Leaving her was the hardest thing he had ever done, and his heart broke all over again, as he relived the memory of watching her sleep, and kissing her forehead one last time, before walking out of her life forever…well forever until now. He had wanted to stay, wanted to make a family with her, settle down, and live out of the rest of his life with her by his side. But when he had learned that Felix, the newly crowned leader of the Lost Boys, had put a bounty out on her head, he had to act quickly. He could not let her association with him cost her, her life. So he asked his most trusted ally, Jefferson to watch over her, and take her somewhere safe, somewhere far away from him. Gold had provided him with a large amount of gold, to help provide for her, and told Jefferson he could keep a part for himself on one condition…he never told Belle about the bounty on her head. He wanted her to live a carefree life, and deep down he knew she would risk her own life if it meant that she got to stay with him, something he could not allow.

So he left her that night, without a word, leaving her to the cold reality of morning that he was gone. He had planned to hunt down Felix and every lost boy left, to ensure her safety, however fate had other plans. A lone outlaw, had stumbled upon one of his unused armors that he had stashed in the desert. The outlaw, seeing an opportunity, used it to rob a bank, but unfortunately for him had taken off his helmet once outside the bank, where the town sheriff shot him in the head. Word traveled quickly, and before long, the last few remaining Lost Boys came to town to indeed make sure that the armored man was the nemesis they had been fighting for so long. Seeing the armor was the same, the hunt for him was called off.

The Gold was dead and buried, and the few remaining Lost Boys joined other gangs and soon disbanded. With the threat over, he could have gone to her. He could have rode to Storybrooke, and begged her to take him back, but the coward that he was, he rode his horse away from her eventually landing in Hyperion Heights, were he laid low for the last five years.

He loaded his horse, readying himself for a final showdown with Felix and his boys, when Belle approached him, wearing her revolver on her hip.

“I’m going with you,” she stated more of a demand than a suggestion.

“You are going with Jefferson, right now, out of town.” He answered, continuing to load his horse without even a glance back at her.

“Jefferson told me this morning, why you left. He told me about the bounty.”

Closing his eyes he silently cursed Jefferson. Why did he have to tell her the truth now? Knowing the truth he was certain that she would stand by his side through all of this, and die defending him. The thoughts of her lying dead in his arms brought a wave of nausea to his stomach as flashes of his son peppered his mind. Reaching up, he unfastened the clips under his helmet, and with shaking hands he lifted his helmet off of his head, his brown eyes meeting her blue.

“I need to do this alone Belle. I have lost so much that I love, I can’t lose you too. I need to do this for my boy.” He expected a quick retort, or refusal from her, but instead she lunged for him, her lips colliding with his. God, did he miss this. He wrapped his armored arms around her, pulling her closer to him, moaning as her tongue brushed against his.

All too soon, she pulled away, his lips desperately trying to follow hers.

“I’ll go if you promise me one thing,” she looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Come back to me.”

He nodded yes with tears in his eyes, as he pulled her back to him kissing her hard and passionately. All too soon he heard Jefferson let out a cough, and quickly pulled back from her, turning around to put on his helmet.

“Take her,” he commanded, and watched as Jefferson took Belle by the arm, leading her to their horses close by. He went to his own horse, and didn’t look back. He left her once, and it almost broke him. He knew if he looked back at her now, he would not have the resolve to leave her again. Without a word, he mounted his horse, and headed to the outskirts of town to face his destiny.

Gold hid behind a large boulder as he heard the faint galloping of horses in the distance. Closing his eyes he envisioned the scene before him, seven…no wait eight horses were rapidly approaching. He knew Felix would never lead, he was too smart to stay out in front, and more likely was tucked away in the middle, to be guarded on all sides.

He held a revolver in either hand, as he waited for the right moment to attack. He had to make every shot count. The galloping got louder and louder. Belle’s face flashed through his mind for a split second before he stood up, and started firing at the posse down below.

He picked the first three off easily, before the others started exchanging gun fire with him. Although the armor protected him, it felt like getting hit by a train, every time a bullet ricocheted off of him, but he stood tall, taking hit after hit, until he gunned down the last man.

His body ached with a pain that was indescribable, but he limped down to the group of scoundrels before him. He didn’t see Felix anywhere. He heard a groan, and turned to find one of the men, still alive. He firmly grasped his shirt pulling him up towards his helmet, demanding to know where Felix was. The man laughed as blood gurgled from his mouth.

“He was right. You were still alive.”

“Where is he?” Gold once again demanded to know. Taking a few gasps of air, the man gave him a bloody smile. “Storybrooke.” And with that the man took his last breath.

No! No! No! Gold cursed to himself. Felix was too smart to fall into this trap. He knew that Gold would be waiting out here to stop him, he must have come from the other way…the way he had just sent Belle and Jefferson.

“Belle,” Gold screamed as panic rose into his heart. Jumping on his horse he quickly rode back to the town. His blood ran cold, as he saw an unfamiliar horse tied up in front of Granny’s Café. Felix was here.

Without a moment of hesitation, Gold took two steps into Granny’s Café. His heart stopped as he saw Felix before him. He was not alone though as the barrel of his gun was pointed at Belle’s temple.

“I’ve been expecting you Gold,” Felix grinned. “You are just in time to watch my blow this pretty little things head off.” Belle stood completely still as Felix’s other hand covered her mouth keeping her noises to mere grunts. Flashes of his past, of his father holding Bae nearly the same way flashed in his memory. He lost his son, he would not lose her as well. He would either walk out of this alive with Belle, or dead on the floor. Gold placed both hands in the air in surrender.

“Now we are old friends here, so why don’t you take that helmet off…Rumpelstiltskin.” Felix ordered.

Gold slowly lifted his helmet off of his head, placing the helmet down on the counter next to him. He had never felt more exposed, as Felix looked him up and down with a look of total disgust. Taking one hand he pushed the helmet down the counter, as it stopped just a foot or two away from Felix and Belle.

“You don’t have to do this Felix, I’m right here, I’m not going to fight you. You can just shoot me. I’m who you want. I killed Malcolm. I’m the one who took him away from you. Just let her go.”

“What type of coward shoots his own father in the back? I can see why he disowned you. You’re pitiful. Look at you. Do you think wearing all that makes you a man? You are nothing. I was more of a son to him than you ever were. And you took him away from me. Now I’m going to take something you love away from you.”

It was as if time slowed down, as Belle bit Felix’s hand causing him to let go of his grip on her. Belle lunged for the helmet on the counter, then turned hitting Felix in the head with it in one mighty swing, bringing him to his knees. Gold wasn’t sure at what point he had drawn his own gun, but quickly aimed, hitting Felix right between the eyes.

Belle ran to him, as he encompassed her in his arms. He should have known that she would save him. His strong, beautiful, Belle.

“Where’s Jefferson?”

Belle smiled. “He’s tied up in the back. We should go get him.”

“In a minute,” Gold smiled pulling Belle back towards him for a kiss. After a few moments, they moved to stand over Felix’s body. “It’s over Belle. It’s really over.”

“Yes,” she placed her head on his chest as she hugged him. “There are so many new paths you can go down.”

“Well there is only one path I’m interested in,” she lifted her head off of his chest, as her crystal blue eyes looked at him with hope.

“Which one is that?” she questioned.

“The one where you and I are together.”

“Now you must promise to write me often. I will not accept a month going by without a letter, do you understand me?”

Belle gave Jefferson a watery smile, as she tried to keep her tears at bay. “I promise.” Belle watched Jefferson turn, shaking Rumpelstiltskin’s unarmored hand. “You take good care of her, do you hear me?”

“I’m quite certain she will be the one taking good care of me,” Rumple smiled, giving his friend a hug.

“So where are you two off to first?” Jefferson inquired, as Belle mounted her own horse Phillipe.

“Hyperion Heights, I have a few friends I need to say goodbye to, and then….” He looked at Belle with his eyebrow raised.

Belle shrugged. “Wherever adventure takes us I suppose.” Gold smiled and nodded, as the two rode off in the sunset together.

#rumbellesecretsanta #moonlight91 #rumbelle #rss #rumbelle secret santa

13 notes · View notes