jokeringcutio · 2 years ago
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Psst, one of them got explicit smut in it, the other allusions to it. So er, I tried keeping it decent, I guess? PS. Have you checked my latest posts? I updated the Albert Shaw(Grabber) x Reader fic on AO3 [Black Phone Fandom/ Ethan Hawke fans enjoy ]. Chapter 5 is short and will be on somewhere next week. Chapter 6 should appear on Friday. I also posted a Headcanon fill for Arthur Fleck x younger reader. [Joker 2019 ]
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myveryownfanfiction · 28 days ago
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18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI
tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen
warnings: swearing
The bell over the shop rang as I opened the door. Rumple looked up with a smile as I headed straight for the counter on the left.
"It's still here right?" I asked, leaning over the glass and looking behind the counter.
"Of course it is." Rumple said, smirking at me. "I told you it would be. So why wouldn't it?" I rolled my eyes at him and made grabby hands at the glass pumpkin behind the counter. “Give me a minute.” Rumple chuckled as he moved behind the stacks of odds and ends he kept in his shop. “Remember, it comes at a price.”
“yeah yeah yeah.” I waved my hand. “I know how retail works rumple.” He took a step back.
“I mean a deal.” He cocked his head.
“yes. The deal is you give me the pumpkin. And I give you money.” I put the cash on the counter and rumple stared at it. “Now gimme.” I reached towards the pumpkin and rumple chuckled.
“If you’re trying to get a rise out of me…” he shook his head.
“is it working?” I asked, dropping my arm onto the counter. I crossed my arms and propped my chin on them, staring up at rumple with a smile. Rumple rolled his eyes and brought the pumpkin over to me. “Yay!” I squealed as I picked it up.
“Keep your money.” Rumple pushed the bills back towards me. “My only request is you stop buying decorations sweetheart.” I looked over at him. He was trying to give me his best puppy dog eyes. “You have enough stuff.”
“Never!” I cheered, holding the pumpkin aloft. “Trust me rumple, you can never have enough Halloween decorations.” I pulled the pumpkin closer and smiled at him as he leaned across the counter to kiss my cheek.
“darling, you are incorrigible.” He smiled. “See you back home?”
“see you back home.” I kissed him softly. “And I make no promises about the decorations.” Rumple chuckled and shook his head as I walked out of his shop.
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rumbelle-scream · 5 months ago
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needs fics where it's rumple/mr. gold pov falling in love with belle and her big beautiful blue eyes and her daily presence slowburn he takes a while to gather himself around her help help help help
any suggestions y'all? 😊
think: i wonder when he's gonna figure out why belle looks at him like this?
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sing-me-under · 25 days ago
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Booster Gold and Batman becoming friends is something I treasure dearly. Like yeah, Bruce should be blamed for Ted’s death to some degree, but he also becomes like the only person in their era who actually takes Booster’s struggles and heroism seriously when everyone else still sees him as a sell-out fool. Booster visited the Batcave for Batman’s expertise frequently enough that Alfred even pointed it out.
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countrymusiclover · 3 months ago
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1 - Life Changing Deal
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Princess Red Thief
Part 2
Tag list - just ask to be added @mystrey101 @melvia-ito @kmc1989 @tallrock35
Peaking my head through the treeline I saw the large castle in front of me. I ran straight for the nearest window reaching inside my cloak drawing a sword I stole from the soldiers armor outside my chambers. Swinging it against the glass it shattered when I ducked my head so it didn't get in my eyes. Climbing through the window I dropped down on my knees inside the castle. "Okay, now where's that dagger?"
Heading over to the cabinets filled with objects I began rummaging around for the specific blade in question. I started throwing books and other things on the ground until one of the globs shattered onto the floor and a voice called out behind me. "Looking for something specific are you, dearie?"
"Show yourself, beast." I draw the sword I used on the window holding it out in front of myself for defense.
A Purple cloud of smoke appeared in front of me. "Here I am, dearie." The figure in front of me had curly brown hair and scaly skin. He was dressed in leather and snake skins.
"What are you? Are you the one they call Rumple...Rumplestiltskin?" I questioned tightening my grip on the blade handle.
The figure giggles performing an over the rope bow. "Indeed I am Rumplestilskin. Now who are you and why so foolish to try and steal from the Dark One?"
"My name is Everly. My parents are Princess Abigail and Prince Frederick." I explained to him moving towards the long table that was in the center of the room.
The dark one clicked his tongue putting his fingers together. "Ah yes I recognize the princess's name. She and King George's son are supposed to wed through a deal I help arrange. But that doesn't explain why you've tried to steal from me."
"I am here because I am a threat to my kingdom." Placing my freehand on the table my palm turned red and I could feel the magic running through my fingertips. The cabinet behind me that had seen through glass suddenly shattered into a million pieces at my feet. "I have an uncontrollable amount of power even though neither of my parents were born with magic."
He nodded, waving his fingers at me. "And you needed my dagger to force me to help you control it."
"I do apologize, Rumplestilskin. I wouldn't dare steal from someone who is declared so powerful if I was not so desperate for a solution to this. I wish to help my mother free my father from his golden prison but I can't do that if this ability or curse isn't kept at bay."
"Magic is not always a curse, Red Thief." He stepped closer to me snapping his fingers and a silver dagger appeared in his grasp. He showed me that his name was engraved on the blade. "I will help you if you choose to embrace your power."
I fired back knowing the rumors that members across kingdoms had spread about him. He used only dark magic and was notorious for making deals with the most desperate types of people. "What do you want in return from me? I know you always want something back for a price."
"I'll enchant your cloak given that I do rather like the color red on you. Once it is enchanted you and I will be connected consciously. You will help me with my deals and the customers that are connected with them."
"What do you mean like if someone breaks a deal with you you'll make me kill them?" I questioned hearing the darkness in his voice.
Rumplestilskin smirked. "I'll decide what fate I wish to bestow on them. Now do you accept my offer or not?"
"I don't know if I can go through with this, Dark One. Ahhh!" I screamed bumping into one of the curtain covered windows seeing my palm turn red again but this time the curtain caught on fire.
Rumple snickers at me. "It appears you don't have any other option here, Red Thief."
"My name is Everly." I corrected him even though I probably shouldn't since he could turn me into a bug and kill me easily if he so wished.
He stepped closer where I shifted the hood of my cloak since it was blocking my view. Our eyes met and I could see he had deep brown eyes. "So long as you work for me I can call you whatever I wish. Unless you think you can find help through someone else."
"I suppose I will. So I'll take your deal." Extending my hand I paused unsure if I would hurt him if I touched him.
He grasps my small hand in his larger one. "We have a deal, Red Thief."
Resting my chin in the palm of my hand I kept scanning my eyes over the paperwork that was in front of me. I had been doing the storage inventory for the pawnshop for as long as I could remember. In my opinion every object had a story that needed to be told rather than just sitting in the dusty old store. But that wasn't what my boss believed. He thinks there's a price of money for everything. "Let's see the unicorn chandelier, tea set and red cloak are all accounted for. Wait red cloak, I didn't see that here."
"It has to be here. It has to be here. If it isn't he will dock my pay." I frantically began searching around every cabinet in the shop not finding the piece of clothing anywhere.
The store bell rang making me shriek running back to my desk in the back room trying to play it cool. The curtain got pushed open and Mr. Gold stepped inside the room. "How has the inventory gone tonight?"
"Uh, pretty good. How was your walk?" I asked him tapping my fingers on the desk nervously, hoping he didn't notice.
His brown, almost chocolate eyes focused on my gaze. "You seem nervous, Eve. Any particular reason why?"
"No reason. Just wishing to be done with work for the evening, sir." I lied to him.
He sent me a half smile revealing a bag from behind his back in his other hand that wasn't holding onto the cane he used to walk with since he had a limp. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you realized this was missing?" He drew something from the bag and I gasped seeing a red cloak fall down while he held it up in front of me.
"I....I....um. Sir, I am sorry. I thought I had accounted for everything. I don't know how it ever left the shop." I began panicking, running my fingers through my hair that I had left loosely.
Mr. Gold chuckles breaking the intense silence that I was feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Calm down, lass. I saw that it was dirty so I took it to the cleaners. Figured it should look in better shape before I gave it to you."
"Oh god that's a relief." Putting a hand over my forehead I sighed in relief. "Wait a minute. Give it to me, why would you do that?"
Gold moved forward offering me his freehand after he laid it on my desk briefly. Putting my hand in his I allowed him to help me get to my feet. "I saw that it was your size from the looks of it one day. And no one in this town has claimed it so I thought it shouldn't go to waste. May I?" He gestured holding it up and opened it in his hands.
"Sure...thank you this wasn't really necessary." I turned around putting my back to his front feeling him place the fabric on my shoulders.
Gold smiled when I spun around so he could clasp the front pins together. "Perfect fit, dear. Just like I had thought. Now don't you worry about paying me for it. It's on the house."
"Thank you, sir." I smiled looking up to meet his gaze since he was slightly taller than me.
He waved a finger in my face grabbing a hold of his cane prepared to leave to collect the town's rent. "I told you to either call me Adam or just Gold. Now come, we have money to collect."
"Understand, Gold." I nodded wearing the red cloak since it was quite cold outside. I followed after my boss and we drove out to our stops finding leaving the inn as our final one for the evening.
Granny, the owner of the inn, spoke as we walked up the wooden stairs. "Now, what's the name?"
Opening the door, Gold and I came face to face with a blonde woman wearing a bright red jacket that I had never seen before in this town. Meaning she must be someone new which hadn't happened for 28 years if I had done my math correctly. The woman spoke her name, giving me a name to go with the new face. "Swan. Emma Swan."
Gold responds to her squeezing my hand in his and I could have sworn I heard him say something else but in a completely different voice. "Emma. What a lovely name....Red Thief."
"Did you hear someone say Red Thief?" Looking at my boss I raised a brow at him confusedly swearing that I had heard something.
He shrugged his shoulders not saying anything yet I saw some light in his eyes where he had recognized something in this room but just wasn't going to share it with me. He shifted his gaze over to the elderly woman. Granny passes Mr. Gold a roll of bills. "It's all here."
"Yes, yes, of course it is, dear. Thank you. You enjoy your stay...Emma." Gold put it away in his suit pocket touching the door handle, opening it once more calling out to me. "Eve?"
"I'm coming, sorry." I paused standing behind the blonde woman while I ran my freehand over the red fabric that I was holding on my other arm feeling like I had seen it before.
Shaking my head I pulled myself from the trance that I was in following him outside being able to hear the conversation between the girls still inside. "Who's that?" Emma asked.
Ruby peaked out the window seeing me still standing on the front porch. "Mr. Gold. He owns this place."
"The inn?" Emma asked more.
Granny reached down in the drawer pulling out a key. "No, the town. So, how long will you be with us?
"A week. Just a week." She responded.
Granny handed her the key. "Welcome to Storybrooke."
"So who is the woman that is with him if you don't mind me asking?" Emma held the key in her hands heading towards the staircase to go check out her room.
Rudy closed the curtain focusing on the new women. "I don't know if this is true or not. But most people in this town have only seen her with him. She's worked for him for years. I think she was abducted by him or something."
"Rudy!" Granny snapped at her granddaughter. "What makes you think such a thing?"
The girl put a hand on her hip. "Maybe it's the fact that she doesn't talk to anyone else in this town. She's only ever seen with him or doing small jobs for him. That's just strange to me."
"I'm sorry for my granddaughters crazy theories. Enjoy your time here, Ms. Swan." Granny ended the conversation before things went further. Emma went up the stairs and I ran down the stairs meeting Gold at his old car. We drove past the clock tower and I couldn't believe I saw the hands move.
Comments really appreciated ❤️
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amethystdreamer114 · 7 months ago
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“I find you… amusing.”
Summary: You’re one of Professor Gold’s students in a college magic 102 class. You’re a bit of a prodigy to put it lightly, far surpassing the rest of your class. It could be due to natural talent… or the intensive attention you’re paying to your teacher.
TW: bondage, touching, swearing, Professor x student, non-consensual sexual activity, oral s*x,
If there’s a tw I didn’t mention, let me know!!
It was a normal Monday, and as always the rest of the class was barely paying attention to the lecture. That is, until Gold began talking about enchantment spells.
“It’s very simple. The subject must touch an enchanted object or say a specific phrase. Following this, you have total control over their actions until you release them.”
The class gasped and murmured.
“Dark magic? Perhaps… but necessary.”
Soon the bell rang for 5 minutes till lunch.
“Alright that’s all for today,” Gold flipped his cane, turning it into a blue dry erase marker. He turned to write your homework assignment on the board.
“Before Tuesday, I want you to test out an enchantment spell. Use it for good or evil, it’s up to you, but I want written documentation of how it went.”
Most of the class filed out of the room, some murmuring about how this class was definitely unethical on occasion.
Gold smirked hearing them.
“Rumpelstiltskin is teaching it… it’s obviously unethical.” He chuckled under his breath.
“Professor Gold?”
He turned to see you with a partial smile.
“Ah (y/n), what can I do for you?” He walked to his computer, glancing over the plans for next class’ lecture.
“Well I was having trouble with the homework from last night. Number 7…”
He looked at you questioningly.
“It’s not like you to have questions dearie. Half the time you have the assignment done before I tell you the page number.”
“Well I know,” you answered. “But this one stumped me.”
He laughed. “Alright let’s take a look at it.”
He looked over the page, pointing to the question as he read.
“Oh, this one’s an easy one.” He read it aloud. “Changing one object into another without a verbal spell. I do this all the time.”
You studied his hands, knowing full well how to execute the spell…
“Watch me.” He flicked his wrist and the marker switched back to a cane. “Just don’t think about it. Calm your mind, steady your focus.”
“The hallway is too loud, I can’t…”
He flicked his wrist and the door closed.
“Now,” he gestured to you.
“Thank you,” you smiled and flicked your wrist the same way he had. Not even a second later, his cane was a black, leather belt.
His eyes widened.
“(Y/n)…”
You smirked, feeling the leather up… and down, the slight clink of the buckle being the only sound in the room.
“Guess I knew more than I let on.” You shrugged.
You snapped and the belt was around his neck. You pulled it taut, creating a leash of sorts before you pulled him toward you.
“Tell me Rumple… what do you think of me?”
“Well… I find you… amusing.”
You could see in his eyes that he thought much more than that, and if his eyes weren’t enough, the hard bulge in his pants left no room for doubt.
“Mmmm, I bet you do.” You looked up at him, your fingers walking up his chest.
He smirked at you and picked you up, setting you on his desk, your skirt riding up as his hands slid up your thighs.
“Mmmm naughty boy.” You locked eyes with him.
You spread your legs wider, his leg pressed between them. You tilted his chin up with your finger.
“Oh dearie…” you mocked. “You look so desperate..”
He took your necklace between his teeth, tugging it lightly to move your head to the side before he began to kiss down your neck, soft and tender.
“What’ve you done to me…” he whimpered.
“It’s an enchantment spell to say it plainly. You’ll do anything I tell you to.”
“How…” he continued to kiss your neck, moving down to unbutton your blouse.
“It’s simple. You touched my textbook, I enchanted it. And now, you’re licking my tits.”
He took one of your nipples in his mouth and massaged the other.
“God I-“ he moaned breathlessly as you pulled the belt around his neck.
“Touch me rumple.”
He backed up just a bit and gritted his teeth. “This is beyond unethical…”
“You’re Rumpelstiltskin . Unethical is your middle name.” You batted your eyes, smiling evilly.
The belt began to glow red, a sign of dark enchantment.
“Rumple. I won’t ask again. Besides, you want to.”
You pulled your skirt up, and he nearly whimpered.
“And just how do you know that?”
You whispered in his ear.
“Darling I worked on this spell all last night to make sure it forced you to give in to your own desires.”
He was locked on your red silk thong.
“Go ahead Rumple. But…”
He bent down.
You pulled the belt up a bit to make him look at you. “Don’t use your hands.”
Like some sort of ravenous wolf, he bit the studded string on your hip, pulling it down to your knees.
“Good boy.” You ruffled his hair.
He was overwhelmed with pleasure just by looking at your pretty pink folds.
“You’re so wet…” he moaned, lapping at your opening.
“All for you…” you threw your head back when he began sucking on your clit. Thank god everyone was at lunch because if they hadn’t been, they might’ve heard you moaning in pleasure and knocking a stack of books into the floor.
He put his tongue into your vagina, relishing in your sweet taste.
“Fuck Rumple-“ your hips bucked up.
Seconds later, the bell rang, bringing the other students back down the hall.
“I can’t stop…”
“Easy there big boy….” You tilted his chin up again.
“You’ll have another time.” You smiled.
You could tell his boner was going to be a terrible problem during his next class as he could barely stand.
“I-what am I supposed to do with this?” He pleaded for mercy.
“Amuse me.” You smirked darkly, slipping your panties back on and buttoning your shirt before hopping off his desk to take your seat for the next period.
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ace-cf-cups · 7 months ago
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You love Rumbelle? Golden Lace? Woven Beauty? Woven Lace?
You want to express that love in creative form?
You are competetive?
An experienced writer?
Or someone who never wrote fanfics but would love to try, especially for your OTP, with a bonus of complete anonymity helping you overcome the fear of failure or being judged by others?
You find writing 1000-1500 words oneshots the most comfortable / fun / etc?
You usually write long multi-chap things but would love to try writing something shorter?
You don't have the spoons for writing long multi-chap things but are itching to write?
You want to write but don't have a starting point and need some prompts?
Sign up for Rumbelle Showdown 2024*!
Trust me, you won't regret it 😉
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*approved by the sexiest bastard and boss bitch of the show, among other people)
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beeeinyourbonnet · 2 months ago
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The Siren
Pairing: Rumbelle
Rating: G (T? For mild language? idk)
Summary: The town librarian is behaving strangely, and Mr. Gold definitely does not care (third round entry from the rumbelle showdown 2024).
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Rent day usually meant an empty shop, everyone avoiding their landlord until Mr. Gold made the rounds himself to collect payments.
Then, fourteen months ago, Belle French had accepted the librarian position and moved into town, and suddenly, every rent day, she was in on her lunch break with a check and a smile. 
Of course, Gold didn’t care that she came. What did it matter to him if someone actually sought him out to pay him on time, in full? Sure, in doing so, she ensured that he took every maintenance complaint seriously—he’d even once gone himself to fix her garbage disposal. He didn’t care that she’d smiled at him, offered him a cup of tea, and engaged him in conversation about his antique cufflinks. If she felt the need to converse with her handymen, what did it matter to him?
He didn’t care about the librarian.
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destiny-in-the-universe · 20 days ago
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I never thought I’d be writing for either of these two fandoms, but imagine my surprise when I discovered the prompt in Whumptober and I just had to. Both of them were comfort fandoms, and well, sometimes you don’t ever truly leave them.
The first in this is Merlin! Yes, the BBC version - it was a complete let-down when we got to the end, only to discover the series had been cancelled. I was screaming, and so in retaliation, I had created my own series 6 because I needed to come up with my conclusion. As part of the universe, I had come up with a little storyline where the Camelot folk would end up in a quaint, magical town within Maine… but unfortunately life happened, and I had to abandon it.
… until now, that is.
The arc is small, and I might consider working on the true series 6 as a larger project later, but we’ll talk about that in another post! For now, let’s get right to it, yes?
DRUMROLL PLEASE!
For those who aren’t aware, the magical town in Maine is in fact, none other than Storybrooke!
I’ve had this idea for several years now, and just couldn’t resist the temptations. Merlin and OUAT is such a perfect combination, and much better than the other Merlin cast used in the series because holy cow, from what I remember, it was awful. Hence why this is about BBC Merlin.
Though I’m sure you’re curious as to what I’m cooking, so… now let’s officially bring a little magic back!
Plot/Summary
Storybrooke’s curse has broken, but with it comes a new age of magic… and hope. In a distant town, a certain sorcerer feels something big is on the horizon, and well, who knows what might happen now?
In other words, Merlin’s connected somehow to the magic of Storybrooke and in impromptu trip leads him and his coven, that is to say, his friends to uncover a world beyond their imagination.
Prompts
No. 7: Magic with a Cost
Extras/Teasers
Post Canon for Merlin
Alternate Season One for Once Upon a Time
Found Family for the Round Table, Merlin, and company
Slowburn Dynamic (coughs)
BAMF Merlin Emrys
Unconventional Alliances
Neurodiverse Characters
there will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword
Part 11 of Whumptober
Mini Arc to “The Emrys Project” (Developing Series)
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imgilmoregirl · 5 months ago
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You voted, I delivered! Here's part one of my "differences between book and fic" posts saga and of course I had to start with our amazing main characters! More to come tomorrow!
In the meantime, you can get your copy of Tears of Seer right here: https://a.co/d/15ks5ZS
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snickerdoodlles · 7 months ago
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Thank you for sending me an ask for the author ask game! Now right back at you: F. canon fics or au?, V. post the last sentence you wrote, and X. give a summary of your current project! Thank you :)
you're welcome!! excited to see u in my inbox too :D ❤❤
F. canon fics or au?
yes! 😂
my preferences for canon vs AU largely depend on how much i feel a character is tied to their setting. for example, i don't really read anything that's non-mafia for kp. for me personally, the cores of the kp characters are so heavily influenced by trauma induced by the mafia specifically that i struggle to connect to versions of them that don't have that aspect. i know it's done, they're just not stories for me. i do pretty alright with AUs that are still mafia but with other elements (like magic) thrown into them to alter the setting, and i more-or-less consider canon-divergent AUs to still fall under the 'canon universe' umbrella, but i tend to be more drawn to pre-/post-canon or canon fics for kp because of the specific setting. the magnus archives would be another example of a fandom where i'm drawn to the impact of the setting on the characters specifically. i like all the characters a lot, but i frankly would not give a fuck about any of their stories outside of the horror context grinding them into dust.
on the flip side, i tend to esp love AU for anything where the setting is just set dressing to the character drama. this tends to be the case for a lot of stories with ensemble casts for me-- for example, a lot of animes, esp sport ones. i read a lot of AU for stuff like yuri!!! on ice and haikyuu!! because its a lot of fun to think of how to transfer those friendship dynamics to other settings, or put them all through hell in a different genre specifically because canon is slice-of-life. but also several of my costume cdramas are fun to AU because a lot of their drama is tied up in specific character dynamics, almost moreso than their specific settings. a story like bad buddy does AU really well too, because their story is in their romeo and juliet dynamic, not their setting.
that was a very long and rambly answer oops 😂 basically it boils down to what questions i have for a character and how necessary i feel canon is to exploring/answering them.
V. post the last sentence you wrote.
[stares at WIPs] which one of you was i last working on again...
...also some of these look very alarming without context lol, i'm just gonna cheat and give you a sneak peek for one of them 😂:
Chay's googling the pet store's hours as though they don't have its schedule well memorized by now. "I'm pretty sure us just owning a fish counts as animal abuse by now. How bad's our karma after our latest Mr. Gold, you think?" "Oh, we're definitely getting reborn as fish in our next life," Kim says over the rattle of the glass rocks he's cleaning. Chay bumps Kim's hip with his, lips screwed up in a pucker as he tries not to look amused. "Should we make merit at a temple before we go to the store, just incase?" Kim puts his hands together and bows his head reverently. "May we earn just enough that we don't wind up in a home like ours." Chay breaks, giggling loudly, and that's all the merit Kim ever needs in this life. "We could also stop risking our next life and just come clean to P'Khun." "Oh fuck no, I'm taking my chances with karma. At least it's known to be forgiving."
X. give a summary of your current project!
[points to snippet above] it's called "The Lives of Mr. Gold" !! it's summary is: Kim and Chay raise one fish.
aka Khun decides they should all bond over being fish fathers and buys Kim and Chay a goldfish to raise. Kim and Chay swear they're doing a great job of it.
[fic author asks]
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rumbelle-scream · 2 months ago
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currently having a good day thinking about rumple with a smartphone and belle having a taste for sending nudes.
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countrymusiclover · 3 months ago
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2 - Cinderella’s Prince
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Princess Red Thief
Part 3
Tag list - just ask to be added @mystrey101 @melvia-ito @kmc1989 @tallrock35
Walking down Main Street I moved my hands around the back of my head finishing off the messy braid I had started doing after I left my apartment this morning. The sun was shining and everyone in the town had seen that in a matter of a few days the clock tower had begun working. I was walking as quickly as I could so when I came around the corner I didn't see someone coming straight for me and we collided onto the concrete. "Urgh! Ow....I'm sorry kid."
"It's okay. Hey you work for Mr. Gold don't you?" Rubbing my head I saw it was the mayor's kid Henry that I had bumped into. He smiled at me with a questionable look.
Getting to my feet I began picking up my work bag and I helped him with his own bag seeing a book sticking out that read ' Once Upon a Time ' on the cover. "Neat book. Fairytales are always great growing up. Again I am sorry for bumping into you. I'm Eve by the way."
"Henry. I am going to see my birth mom Emma. Do you want to come with me?" He smiled, putting his backpack on.
I paused feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket. Pulling it out I saw a text from Gold. "I don't think so, kid. I have work to do...on second thought Mr. Gold says he's heading to see your birth mom. Care to show me where she's staying?"
"Sure she's staying with my school teacher." Henry began quickly running and I chased after him heading to the Blanchard apartment. He knocked on the green door with the right number finding it unlocked so we just stepped inside. "Hey, Emma. I was thinking we-"
"Hey, Henry. How are you?" My boss greeted him.
Henry paused. "Okay?"
"Good. Give my regards to your mother. And, um, good luck, Miss Swan." Gold nodded, walking over to me, opening the door and nodding In my direction. "Ms. Royal, I'll be outside in the hallway waiting."
"I'll see you around Henry." I waved bye to the kid stepping into the hallway.
Henry whispered as I went to shut the door. "Do you know who that is?"
"Yeah, course I do." Emma answered him.
Henry was still confused and I could only assume it was something to do with his book or something. "Who? Cause I'm still trying to figure it out."
'So off to work now?' I shrugged my shoulders standing beside him.
Gold shakes his head no. "We don't have to start work that early. I was thinking I'd buy you breakfast first."
"Oh wow. Well who would say no to that. I accept." I smiled at him looping my arm through his and we headed downstairs in the direction of Granny's. He walked over to the nearest booth sitting across from me. I picked up the menu to read it when I heard a plate shatter, making me turn my head and see the blonde pregnant girl he had recently made a deal with. "Ashley?"
"Mr. Gold..." She gasped running towards the backroom.
I got up to my feet thinking I should talk with her. "I'll be back. I'm going to talk to her."
Walking to the back I found her in the laundry room I saw the blonde rummaging around with the sheets she had cleaned. She jumped, hitting the dryer behind her. "If he's come for the baby. I've decided to keep it."
"Woah, I'm not here for that. I just figured you could use some help before the baby comes." I held up a hand to calm her down.
Ashley parted her lips, sitting the sheets down and coming over to me. "You really want to help me?"
"Yes, I do." I nodded in agreement to her.
She reached for my hand and I touched her shoulder with both my hands feeling that she was tense. Unknown to me she held something behind her back moving her arm hitting me over the head with the lint trap lid. "I'm sorry for this. But I'm changing my life." She apologized, grabbing her car keys and running out of the room before I blacked out on the carpet floor.
Rumple and I were informed that his current deal with Cinderella had some interesting news. But it was all a trap to lock him away. Standing beside my horse I eyed Snow White's prince and the dwarf named Grumpy. I had become close friends with them even though I worked with the Dark One. Turning my head around quickly I heard the slipper Princess's voice coming behind me. "What did you do?"
"Ella, what's wrong?" Charming stopped locking up the cage door.
Grumpy could see she was panicking over something. "Your Highness, what happened?"
"What did you do to my Thomas?" She grabbed the bars of his carriage, holding her husband's abandoned fur cloak in one hand.
Rumpelstiltskin leaned closer to her inside the cage. "I haven't done anything. I case you haven't noticed, I've been otherwise engaged."
Cinderella snapped at him. "Something's happened to him. You know. Tell me!"
"I have no idea, dearie. But I did warn you – all magic comes at a price. Looks like someone has just paid." Rumple
Charming touched the princess on the arm leading her away from the cage. "Don't listen to him. We'll find Thomas."
"No, you won't. Until that debt is paid, until that baby is mine, you're never going to see him again. In this world or the next, Cinderella, I will have that baby." Rumple threatened her shifting his gaze over to me with a faint head nod.
Grumpy had somehow noticed it though. "She must know something. She came with him after all."
"Take her in. What has he done to my Thomas!" Ella stomped up to me grabbing me by my shoulders shouting through tears.
Charming gently pushed her away from me and a guard escorted her somewhere else beside Grumpy. "Everly, do you know anything about what he might have done?"
"No I don't, David. I may help him with his deals and such but I don't know what he's done with her prince." I told him holding onto the clasp of bright red cloak, my hair had two strands pinned back but the rest was loose to the wind.
Cinderella shouted over to us. "Lock her up and question her. She has to know something!"
"Are you really considering it, Charming?" I questioned him hoping he said no.
He paused, clicking his tongue waving some guards come over at his command. "Don't worry it won't be a permanent thing. But we need some answers."
"Charming no. You don't need to do this. I don't know what happened to Thomas. I swear, let go of me!" I began fighting against the guards arms where they dragged me over to the horses.
Charming sent me an apologetic look seeing me get handcuffs enchanted with magic to block my own. "I'm sorry, Red Thief." The guards put me on a horse making me and Rumple be transported into separate prison cells.
Guards escorted me through the long and cold hallways keeping the squid ink cuffs on me to block my powers from making me able to escape. Unfortunately it wasn't like I could release Rumple if I ever got on my own. I got thrown inside the cell and they locked the door, scrambling to my feet. "You can't do this to me. You can't do this. I....I didn't do anything to Thomas!"
I grunted, shoving my hand against the metal door sniffing through some tears that had formed in my eyes. Sliding down onto the cold floor my chest began tightening with me laying my head against the door. "What's going to happen to me now?" I muttered to myself hugging my knees to my chest forming a fear of confined spaces after that night.
Emma was in the waiting room trying to help Ashley by talking with Gold herself now that she wanted what he wanted from her. "So, she can keep the baby?"
"Not just yet. There's still the matter of my agreement with Miss Boyd." Gold eyed the blonde standing before him.
Emma replied. "Tear it up."
"That's not what I do. You see, contracts – deals – well, they're the very foundation of all civilized existence. So, I put it to you now. If you want Ashley to have that baby, are you willing to make a deal with me?" Gold paced in front of her
Emma asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you want?"
"Oh, I don't know just yet. You'll owe me a favour." Gold raised his cup to his mouth, taking a drink.
Emma nodded. "Deal."
"We'll be in touch, Ms. Swan." He nodded, heading down the hallway to the front desk asking the nurse. "Can I see Eve Royal?"
The nurse agreed, leading him back to her room. "Of course."
I moaned, barely opening my eyes, seeing some bright hospital lights shining down on me. I attempted to sit up some but there was some discomfort like I had a really bad headache. "Ow! Ashley, why would you hit me over the head?"
"She didn't want Mr. Gold to take her baby. And she thought you were going to help him take it from her." Rubbing my eyes I cleared my vision seeing Henry sitting at my bedside.
I croaked with my throat sour. "Henry, what are you doing here?"
"Emma is talking with Gold to let her keep the baby and I wanted to see if you were okay. And ask you some questions?" He reached inside his backpack pulling out the book I saw. He flipped to a certain page showing me a blonde wearing a red cloak sitting inside of a prison cell. "Does this look familiar to you?"
Knitting my brows together in confusion I didn't understand what he meant. "Henry, what are you asking me? I mean the girl I may look similar to but I don't see anything else."
"Hey Henry, I didn't expect you to be back here. Your mother will be looking for you." Lifting my gaze upward I saw Gold and the nurse enter my room.
Henry put his book away, leaving my room. "I'll see you later."
"How are you feeling, Eve?" Gold asked standing at my bedside reaching out for my hand that didn't have an iv in it. "Ruby and I found you unconscious in the laundry room. I was concerned when they had you emitted here for a few hours."
I stared at him for a few minutes processing what he had just said to me. That wasn't something your boss would say, we weren't romantically involved that was for sure. "What do you mean you were so worried about me? Aren't we just boss and employee?"
"We're much more than that - un at least I thought we were unless I'm wrong." He cut himself off changing his wording when he saw such confusion on my face at his choice of words.
I sent him a tiny smile squeezing my hand in his. "I appreciate that you feel that way, Gold." He nodded in agreement but deep down he wished that the girl before him now knew the same truth that he did.
Comments really appreciated ❤️
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thestraggletag · 1 year ago
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The Caretaker, Chapter Two
AKA: A Rumbelle Sugar Daddy AU… kinda.
Rating: Explicit.
Summary: Belle French had never thought helping came with strings attached, confident that in a community people naturally tended to help each other, until the day she needed help to keep the library open and no one seemed to care. No one but Mr Gold, whose penchant for dealing could always be counted on, even if the price for his generosity was known to be steep.
At first Belle thought it was a power move, to have her about. The first time he called she was very apprehensive, but nowhere near regretting her deal with Mr Gold. Marco and his crew had been to the library just the day before, taking measurements and making a more thorough assessment of the work needed, going as far as to check the work done on the roof, determined not only to fix the damage the water had made on the building but to also ensure it would not happen again. He seemed to hold little esteem for the people the town had hired to do the original patching on the roof, but was too polite to say something about it. He had even gone above and beyond and done a general assessment of the building itself, commenting on the poor-quality glass installed on the windows of her apartment, letting her know it would be wise to replace them as soon as possible, as he doubted they would resist many more Maine storms in the state they were. 
Mr Gold had delivered on his promise almost at once, so Belle felt a bit glad to finally be able to start paying him back. The first time he called her it was to his shop after hours. She clocked out promptly at six PM, which she usually did not do, preferring to organise some section or do some minor cleaning until right before dinner time, and went across the street towards the pawnshop. The inside was dimly lit, contrasting with the well-lit street outside and to Belle it felt a bit like stepping into a cave of wonders. She hadn’t been flattering Mr Gold when she complimented him on his shop. The place was fascinating, full of character and hidden gems, secrets to be discovered. The way the curios created a labyrinth, the clutter accentuated by the busy yet elegant pattern wallpaper, the myriad of old pieces of furniture that overflowed with items at the top, it all had its charm. Then there was the fact that no item that she could see was ordinary. Everything was antique or unusual, belonging to some sort of bygone era that made them foreign yet recognisable.
She told herself not to look, but it was so difficult. Everything seemed to catch her eye, from the dusty books on the shelves to the sparkles of the pieces of jewellery strewn about. But the most intriguing thing was the man standing beside the cash register. Mr Gold looked composed, almost indifferent to her presence yet acutely aware of it at the same time. He was dressed sharply, as always, but once more without his suit jacket, his shirt cuffs pulled back from his wrist by the golden sleeve garters he wore. He was very much like his shop, familiar and yet someone out of time, beyond the normalcy she knew.
After exchanging basic pleasantries he instructed her to take a seat on a nearby desk. It contained the only 21st century piece of technology: a sleek, shiny laptop.
“I need to do some work to get a couple of candelabras I’ve sold up to snuff before they’re delivered, and I don’t have the time to catch up on some basic paperwork. I wish for you to update the inventory. But please make a pot of tea first, you’ll find everything you need in the back room.”
His tone was not unkind, but it did not invite chatter and there was an air of authority in it that Belle noticed right away. She made her way to the back room of the shop, noticing that it was too littered with stuff, noticeably either broken pieces or things that had not been polished or cleaned yet. There was a small kitchenette in a corner, where she found small boxes of loose-leaf tea, meticulously labelled, a complete tea set and an electric kettle, along with sugar, honey and a small carton of milk in the nearby mini-fridge. 
Determined to give him his money’s worth and prove her usefulness Belle set out to prepare the tea, finding a darjeeling that smelled ripe and fruity that she liked, taking care to warm the pot before putting the tea in and pouring the water. She found a lovely wooden tray big enough and piled on the honey, sugar, the milk in its little pitcher, a saucer, cup and silver spoon, along with the full pot, mindful Mr Gold would likely want more than one cup. When she brought it over, rather proud of how good it all looked- the tea set was rather lovely, bone china with a delicate blue and gold pattern- he barely glanced at it.
“Pour me a cup, please.”
The please seemed rather perfunctory, perhaps, but the librarian didn’t mind. She prepared the cup carefully, put a spoonful of sugar when he asked for it and held it out to him. Belatedly she remembered that she hadn’t offered him milk, and hurriedly did so.
“I prefer the blood of newborns, but milk is fine.”
The comment startled her into dropping the cup, her nerves finally getting the best of her. He frowned, for the first time showing an emotion that wasn’t mild interest, and clarified:
“It was a quip. Not serious.”
She knew that. Even if she thought the worst of Mr Gold, which she didn’t, she would not have assumed anything that shocking or garish to be true. It had simply caught her by surprise. Her grip on the cup loosened, sending it crashing to the floor. Panic immediately flooded her. The cup was clearly expensive and, as far as she had been able to tell, the tea set had been complete and intact a second ago. She picked it up, happy to see that it hadn’t shattered to pieces, but anxious about the sizable chip it had on a side. This would certainly draw Mr Gold’s anger. The man clearly had a passion for antiques, and even if half of the town rumours about his temper turned out to be false, it still didn’t look good for her.
“It’s-it’s chipped.” She paused, licking her lips and looking at it. “I mean… You can hardly see it.”
She didn’t know why she said that, given the size of the missing chip, but Mr Gold merely shrugged, unperturbed. 
“It’s just a cup.” He went back to his work, instructing her to simply get another cup.
“Two, if you please. I do not like to drink tea alone if I have company. And bring some biscuits. They’re in the red tin next to the stove.”
Belle was too relieved to question his insistence on her taking tea. Besides the tea did smell rather lovely, and it had been ages since she had allowed herself the luxury of good honey. She brought back the two cups requested, along with the shortbread cookies she had found and served them both, trying to commit Mr Gold’s preferences when it came to tea to memory. Then she settled down to do the data entry he requested, enjoying the couple of cookies she had taken for herself, the salty-buttery taste of the shortbread complimenting the fruity flavour of the tea. 
It was, she had to admit, less eventful than what she thought it would be. A bit awkward, with all the silence, but otherwise rather enjoyable. Data entry was something Belle could do with barely any need to concentrate, so she had been able to focus on the tea and the biscuits, on enjoying the warmth inside the shop and the cosiness of it.
The next few times were spent much in the same way, and Belle soon grew less anxious about the encounters and more bored with the stifling silence. Besides that she would actually say she enjoyed her time at the shop. Mr Gold would always have her prepare tea or heat up whatever lunch he had for the day, and there was always plenty to go around and an offhand comment for her to eat too, which more than suited Belle. Between tasks she’d be able to roam around the shop and explore and whenever she did have to do something, it was never too tasking, or unseemly. File some papers, do some data entry, ready an antique that was about to be shipped the way Mr Gold had shown her. She didn’t think any of it was worth the favour Mr Gold had done her in return, but she theorised it was perhaps a power thing, to have her about and give orders to. 
Once she moved past her initial apprehension Belle felt determined to make conversation with the pawnbroker, which she knew from their previous encounters at the library was possible. Mr Gold, either on purpose or being true to his nature, responded first with monosyllables, but she would not give up, recalling the books he had taken out previously and enquiring about them, cajoling longer and longer responses from the pawnbroker till he felt compelled to ask her things in return, even if it was only to give himself a break from talking.
Once the conversation started flowing it was pleasant. More than. Mr Gold was witty, with a biting sense of humour that sometimes ran towards the macabre, but that was something they both had in common. He was also well-read, beyond just the books he had favoured in visits to the library, and rather well-travelled. They found they had a lot in common as expats adapting to American culture, and shared a love for history, theatre and period dramas. The more she talked with Mr Gold the more layers of him she uncovered, bits and pieces of the man behind the mask. None of it was personal at all, mostly superficial stuff, but still, Belle began to feel like she was the person in Storybrooke that knew Mr Gold best.
The first weekend he summoned her to his home the nervousness returned tenfold. It wasn’t just the change of venue but also the intimacy of it. What would he have her do in his home? She knew what Ruby would say and it was almost absurd, but the anxiety still lingered. The icy walk towards the edge of town, where Mr Gold lived seemed daunting, and even the eccentric colour scheme of the pawnbroker’s house could not shift her mood. Inside the house was warm, though, and beautiful to behold, a truly well-preserved Queen Anne with gorgeous ceilings, expensive Persian rugs and all sorts of interesting antiques that made it a natural extension of Mr Gold’s shop.
Once Mr Gold had helped her take off her coat, scarf and gloves- the later were dreadfully threadbare, but she did not have the money for a good quality replacement and she didn’t want to spend money on cheap gloves that would barely last her the winter- he directed her to the kitchen, which was a lovely combination of old and new, with ultra-modern appliances designed to fit into the decor instead of standing out like metallic eyesores. She saw that, on the counter, there were a myriad of supplies, including flour, fresh blueberries and sugar.
“What you do you want me to do, Mr Gold?”
He looked at her, a bit puzzled.
“I thought it rather obvious. I want you to bake. I greatly enjoyed the bakesale you organised, though in retrospect, knowing where the money ended up in, I regret purchasing so much. As I have understood you did all the baking.” 
Belle did recall Mr Gold purchasing a lot of stuff, including several of her blueberry muffins, a special family recipe. Given what she now knew about his eating habits and what she had known for a while about his extreme dislike for the nuns- she sort of understood that one, after Mother Superior’s manipulative appropriation of the funds she had raised for the library- none of what he said surprised her and she gladly set out to bake. It was a vastly different experience from the rushed, anxious baking she had to do for the doomed sale. Mr Gold’s kitchen was bright and airy, with a lovely view of the backyard from the many windows that let sunlight in. She was also not pressed for time and did not have to make dozens of treats, so she could take her time with the muffins, making sure they came out perfect. Baking was something that reminded her of her mother, who had taught her when Belle was younger and Colette had yet to get sick. 
At some point the faint sound of music- something by Clara Schumann, one of her piano concertos- reached her ears, adding to the pleasant feeling and also to her growing knowledge of Mr Gold. Soon enough the kitchen was full of the pleasant aroma of freshly-baked and cooling muffins, and she set out to make tea unprompted, knowing by then Mr Gold’s afternoon-time habits, deciding to serve it in the kitchen. The dining-room felt too cavernous.
When she called the man for tea, knocking on his study before entering, she was a bit happy to see she had surprised him, but he followed her easily enough, not even protesting at being made to take tea on the kitchen island, though he did inquire about the location.
“The dining-room looks fit for a state dinner. This is cosier.”
She enjoyed one of her muffins, but did not expect the rest to appear on their shop tea rotation the next week, thinking Mr Gold might want to keep them all to himself. It soon became a routine for her to go to his house on weekends, sometimes one day and sometimes both, to bake or simply hang around waiting for deliveries that he ‘could not be bothered with’. To Belle it meant lounging around gorgeous rooms full of amazing antiques and perusing Mr Gold’s collection of not-quite-collectible-but-still–very-old books, finding a treasure trove of interesting books about botany, a subject she had previously not known Mr Gold to favour. He also seemed to collect old cookbooks, some which looked rather well-worn, ranging from delicate French cuisine to more peasant fare dishes and Victorian cooking staples. There was always something in the fridge to warm up for lunch, and something yummy for tea, which meant Belle ate better those days than during the rest of the week.
It was a bit of a holiday, it felt like. When she stayed home invariably someone always seemed to come knocking in need of her time, either David with some emergency at the animal shelter or Leroy needing someone to help him with some convent initiative he- for some reason he refused to tell her- signed up for even though he lacked the skills or time for it.
But no one was looking for her at Mr Gold’s. She could relax knowing the sound of the doorbell did not bring with it some desperate friend in need of her time and attention. It did not mean people did not pester her for her time during weekdays, which left her having to improvise excuse after excuse, but though she didn’t like lying, what she had always found difficult about saying no to people was the feeling of guilt afterwards. She did not feel that now, with her time conveniently taken up by her deal with Mr Gold.
She began to be happy about the arrangement for something other than the visible improvements being done to the library, even though friends and acquaintances were growing a bit frosty with her, recriminating her for her lack of help, acting a like they were entitled to her time and leaving her wondering whether she had ever said no to people before.
She must have, surely, though she could not recall a specific example.
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“What’s your first name?”
The question came out of nowhere, but once she said it she could not take it back. She was in Mr Gold’s shop, taking a pause from the task he had given her to drink her tea. It was ghastly outside, rainy and windy, and even the short walk between the library and the pawnshop had ruined her pristine appearance. Her hair, frizzy from the humidity, did not seem to want to cooperate with her and settled tucked behind her ears, which was irking her.
“My own business.”
The Scotsman’s response was caustic, but Belle had grown used to his dry tone. He was all bark and no bite when he was like that.
“I promise not to tell anyone.”
“Not knowing it will help you keep that promise.”
She could not help the unbecoming snort of laughter at that, but she had grown comfortable enough around the pawnbroker not to care about it. Instead she attempted to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear yet again, frustrated by how it refused to stay out of her face.
“What harm could there possibly be? This is not some folk tale where giving your name to the fairies has consequences or something.”
“You do look a bit fae-like. Bright eyes, delicate features.”
The unexpected compliment, in the midst of their banter, made her blush and look down, her hands grabbing the inkpot he had left for her, along with the pen he had instructed her to refill with ink. She delicately unscrewed the Montblanc, making sure the cartridge was empty and the spring lowered down before she dipped it into the pot, rotating the tip of the cartridge to fill it up. Her unruly lock of hair chose that moment to leave its perch behind her ear, flopping almost straight into the ink. 
“Careful there.”
She hadn’t heard Mr Gold get closer, but suddenly he was right next to her, carefully lifting up the unruly lock of hair and fixing it in place with something he placed on her hair. Belle touched the thing carefully, feeling something that felt like small stones or maybe pearls. It was a beret. She removed it, noticing it was a beautiful piece, with small stones that seemed like diamonds and perfect little pearls, making up flowers and leaves. The style was very Art Nouveau, soft and romantic. Which meant it was likely very expensive, and her first instinct was to give it back. Or try to.
“Oh, Mr Gold, you shouldn’t bother. I can’t accept it, what if I break it or something? Like your cup?”
“It’s a trivial little trinket I’ve had lying around for ages. And it keeps me from fearing that lock might find its way into my tea later.”
“Nothing in this shop is a trinket. Take it back.”
She held out the beret again, frustrated when her hair decided to do her dirty and obscure her face again. Mr Gold rolled his eyes, studying her to gauge how determined she was about the topic before his gaze turned predatory and a dealer’s smile began to inch its way across his face.
“I’ll make you a deal, Miss French.” He paused, perhaps for effect, and Belle had to tell herself not to focus on the way his voice turned into a soft, beguiling purr when he was proposing a deal. Something to unsettle his potential victim, she supposed, and it did unsettle her, but not in the way she thought he intended. “I’ll give you my name if you accept the hair clip.”
She narrowed her eyes, trying to think about the catch. This deal did not seem to benefit Mr Gold at all, except the pawnbroker never made a deal he did not stand to gain from, so there had to be something there that she wasn’t seeing. Nothing materialised, but she did not spot a hidden trap either. She may not know why Mr Gold wanted her to have both the beret and his name, but she would benefit anyway.
“Deal.”
Carefully, trying to make her frizzy hair look artfully teased instead, she combed through it before placing the beret to both secure the hair and the style she had put it into.
“There, done. Now you.”
“My name’s Alexander Uilleam. A constant reminder of my dead father.”
“That was also his name?”
“No. He hated me.”
Belle did not have to ask what he meant by that. After all, she had always half-jokingly thought so. And it did not necessarily come as a shock that a man as abrasive and prickly as Mr Gold had not had a happy or easy childhood. She could tell that the reveal had left him a bit discomfited, vulnerable, so she thought to put him at ease.
“Alexander is a lovely name. Elegant. It suits you.” She paused, glad when she caught a hint of a pleased smile on the edge of his lips. “May I use it, when it’s just us?”
“If you must.”
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It didn’t take long for Belle to realise her deal with Mr Gold-Alexander- was not about power. If anything, he strived to be discreet when it came to their arrangement, never requiring anything of her that would expose their interactions to the judgemental people of Storybrooke. So she began to theorise that Mr Gold was lonely, which is why he kept her around. He tried to pretend otherwise, sometimes ignoring her and other times acting like her attempts at conversing with him or her mere presence was an annoyance he bravely chose to bear, but it was a poor act, at least now that she could read him better.
Her theory seemed to confirm itself when he began to take her to auctions and estate sales. She had known before that Mr Gold sometimes made those trips- people tended to make a big deal out of him being out of Storybrooke and, therefore, not able to pop out of nowhere to ask for people’s rents or whatever else they thought he did- but she had never given it much thought until he had told her she would accompany him to an event in Lewiston, some sort of estate sale. He would take her of the clothing, since this was a business event and so it was his responsibility to provide her with appropriate attire, and gave her the details for a Bergdorf account, telling her to order whatever she pleased. Her polite but immediate refusal was met with an offhand comment about how their deal was for her time, and he could not take her to the auction unless she purchased suitable clothing. Therefore, her refusal to buy clothes would be a breach of contract.
Belle’s sense of wounded pride at the notion that she was lacking quality clothes to wear to a special occasion was somehow lessened by the fact that she had lost a good part of her wardrobe to the damp and rot inside her closet, and the fact that she had sold some of her best shoes and dresses just a few weeks before she had made her deal with Mr Gold, needing that extra bit of cash to push her over what she thought at the time was the finishing line of her funds for the library, before they had mostly gone to her father. She had been able to afford some of her more expensive pieces by restoring antique books in her spare time, but she didn’t have any at the moment, hadn’t had for a while. Her wardrobe was severely limited at the moment, and Mr Gold was so blindingly rich he probably wouldn’t notice the change in his bank account even if she bought half the clothing her size on the website.
“Just the one outfit.”
“And a coat, don’t forget.”
She ended up buying a Givenchy powder-blue knit mini-dress, which she could pair with a plum-coloured cardigan and black booties she already had, and after much fighting she added a Burbery cashmere trench coat, something that she could get a lot of use out of without ever looking out of place. A few days later he had called her over to his shop to hand her the packages, without a hint of reproach in his face at the expense of it all.
“I forgot to ask you to add gloves, so I took the liberty to order a pair for you. I apologise for the presumption.”
The dress fit like a dream, and the coat was incredibly warm. But the gloves were her favourite part: exactly to her taste, a pair of woven leather and cashmere gloves that fit her hands perfectly and were soft like butter. But above all, they let her know that Mr Gold had cared about her comfort and took the time to ensure she would be warm while on their outing.
The outing itself was more fun than she had expected. The ride was amenable enough, with Belle in charge of the thermos of tea and the conversation and Mr Gold in the mood to be conversational. He clearly had a passion for antiques and did not mind indulging her curiosity on the subject, coming across both as knowledgeable and engaging. As for the event itself, Belle never quite understood what the point was of her being there. Her only expertise were books, and she did feel rather proud when she could point out a few neglected but salvageable first and second editions amongst the things sold from the library of the estate. He didn’t seem to mind, though, seeming to need her only for chatter while he perused everything with a calculated eye, sometimes pausing over a particular lamp or a certain piece of furniture.
Once they had made two full tours of the place- with Mr Gold perhaps leaning a bit on her, to hide his more pronounced limp, given the amount of walking they had done-he seemed to have made up his mind, quickly arranging the purchase of two lamps, a clock and three Bohemian crystal pieces, a decanter, a jar and a vase. It was a thing of beauty to watch him haggle, inscrutable as he pointed out a flaw or minor cosmetic detail and argued about the sellability of some of the pieces in the market. In the end he got exactly what he wanted at a good price, judging from the satisfied turn of his lips, and he was even kind enough to invite her to a late tea in a charming little cottage-style inn on the road back to Storybrooke.
There was no mistaking her enthusiasm when he brought up another trip, this time to an auction, and she did not even put up much of a fuss when he insisted she get herself a new outfit. She would find a way to return the clothes to Mr Gold once their deal was done and he could not stop her, and in the meantime she had come to have a better grasp of his fortune, which was bigger than what she had previously imagined. He truly did mean it when he said her purchases were of little consequence to him. Soon she had amassed a modest array of dresses, blouses, skirts and a few accessories, which she tried to expand with a few tasteful pieces from her own wardrobe. It was the sort of clothing she has always dreamed of wearing every day but had never had the funds for. And her guilt at spending Alexander’s money lessened by the obvious pleasure in his face every time he saw her in a new outfit, especially when she made subtle efforts to match him. A few times he would present her with a scarf or a similar accessory, saying something about the weather or some other excuse in an offhand manner, knowing she did not believe him but would not comment on it. It was sweet, and his taste was impeccable.
And though dressing up was fun, and the antiques were fascinating, it was Alexander that made each trip worthwhile. He was a great companion, more than eager to share his knowledge and explain his decisions as they both studied each item on display. He would defer to her when it came to books, and she was happy when he made a few purchases explicitly because she had recommended them.
Once or twice he took her to gallery openings in Portland or formal dinner events, where obviously the underlying purpose was to network and socialise. She had been hesitant at first about looking for dresses, till she finally managed to snag a fourth thousand dollar Marchesa crepe gown in deep red at under half the price. She had told him so the next day, over the moon about the steal.
“But was that the dress you liked best?”
“It was for that price.”
The night in question, when she had shown up to the pawnshop with her hair artfully teased and swept up and her make-up impeccable, he had a box from Louboutin in his hands.
“What is this?”
“Well, you did save all that money with the dress, so I needed something to do with the leftovers.”
The shoes inside were stupidly gorgeous, shimmery strass fabric pumps with a 4-inch heel, more than easy for her to manage. 
“This is not what I was hoping for when I bought the dress, you know.”
“No, you were hoping to get one over me. I hope you realise there is no doing that, Miss French.”
“Belle, please. I can’t have you buying me shoes and not using my given name, at least.”
Had she known Alexander less she would’ve thought this was a way to flex his power over her once more, but now she saw it as a kindness from a person unused to expressing positive feelings to other people. That night had been particularly pleasant. He required her to only look good and contribute to the conversation when appropriate, and they both delighted in people-watching whenever he did not need to socialise. Belle even got him to dance, just a little, even if he had to lean rather heavily on her. When he had driven her back to her home, the Cadillac barely gaining on the dawning morning sun, she had felt almost unwilling to leave.
“You know, you don’t have to get me things for me to enjoy spending time with you.”
“I don’t? That’s not usually my experience.”
In an act of what she would later categorise as temporary madness she reached over to kiss his cheek. He was warm, and smelt still of his sandalwood cologne.
“I mean it. I rather like spending time with you. More than with anyone else, really.”
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Something, she wasn’t sure what, had changed between them after that innocent little kiss. On the one hand Alexander himself seemed… softer, more at ease, less likely to dodge personal questions using quips or non-answers. She found herself opening up to him about her mother, who had died when she was very young, and how that had conditioned her, she supposed, to hide her troubles.
“She was sick for so long that I didn’t want her or dad to worry about me. It was easy to push things aside and try to find ways to help. Mom would always know, though, when something was wrong with me. She wasn’t fooled, and wasn’t deterred. She would often tell me she was my mom and it was her job to worry over me and not mine to worry over her.”
“A rather exemplary mother, then. I’m glad.”
They were having tea, both deciding at the same time to abandon their respective tasks, given the late hour. They were sharing the last scone between them, huddled together near the radiator in the back of the shop. The weather had turned frightful, and it was forecasted to continue so.
“But when she died… dad was left alone. And he didn’t have mom’s sixth sense for these sorts of things, he was rather helpless. I enjoyed being useful, finding ways to contribute. I didn’t expect that to create a- a rift of sorts. I love him and I know he loves me but… I don’t think he knows me very much, or how to interact with me. And I don’t know how to interact with him on a more real basis. Tell him when something is bothering me or I have a problem.”
Alexander, Belle had quickly surmised, had an abysmal opinion of her father. She had also assumed correctly that his own had not been great either.
“It’s a father’s responsibility to care for their child. There’s no excuse for shirking parental responsibilities.”
“Is this about your own father?”
He had talked briefly about his childhood, mostly about the two old women who had brought him up till they had died when he had been around fourteen, and had only mentioned his mother had died in childbirth.
“No, but he certainly wasn’t father of the year. Would make your own look downright decent.” He paused, pouring himself another cup of tea slowly, as if trying to make time. “I had a son. He was the world to me. I cannot imagine a parent, any parent, not being willing to do whatever it took to ensure their child’s happiness.”
In spite of the myriad of rumours going around Storybrooke about Mr Gold, many centred around his past before he came to town, Belle had never heard any about a child.
“You have a son?”
“Had. Balfour. A lovely boy, bright and full of life. His mother left us soon after he was born, but I made sure he never once felt her absence.” Alexander’s voice sounded soft and affectionate, his accent more pronounced as he told the story. “He was full of plans. Wanted to be an architect, a lawyer, and a doctor. Like kids often do. I worked hard so he would have the choice to be whoever he wanted, to be the supportive father I had always wanted my own da to be.” He paused, hands tightening around the repaired cup he favoured- why he insisted on using the one she chipped she had no idea- to the point she feared he might shatter the delicate china and hurt himself. “But it didn’t matter in the end. There was a car accident- a driver fell asleep at the wheel, I was told. He didn’t make it, and neither did Bae. I got out of it intact. Well, mostly.”
She didn’t have to ask him to clarify with the way he glanced at his ever-present cane, propped up right next to his chair.
“Did it happen here, in Storybrooke?”
Surely not. Belle could not imagine people would hate the pawnbroker so unabashedly if they knew what had happened to him.
“Yes. Less than a year after we moved in. Bae is buried on the edge of the local cemetery. He wasn’t baptised and Mother Superior pitched a fit at the notion that he would be buried on consecrated ground. So I bought the land right next to the cemetery, and made it look like it was part of it. Commissioned a bench so I could sit with him from time to time, but it got harder and harder to do so over time.”
It was no wonder there was an all-out war between the convent and the pawnbroker. Belle was rather amazed the Scotsman hadn’t evicted them ages ago.
“Would you like to go there sometime?”
Alexander looked up at her, surprised, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that he did not need to visit the grave alone.
“I couldn’t possibly use our arrangement in that way. It would be too much of an imposition.”
“It would be outside the boundaries of our arrangement. Of my own free will.”
“Why?”
Had Belle now known Alexander better she would’ve been tempted to find the question insulting. But to the pawnbroker the idea that someone would do anything for him without getting something in return seemed an impossibility.
“Because I want to.”
He did not press her, but smiled sadly into his cup, determined to avoid eye contact, likely feeling rather vulnerable and raw.
“You’re too good a person. I’ve always thought so.”
He let the subject drop after, pointedly beginning to muse out loud about the upcoming weather, a clear message for her to move along.
She didn’t bring it up afterwards, and neither did he, but something seemed to loosen up about him, some invincible barrier he had struggled hard to maintain between them dissolving into nothing. He no longer felt the need to pretend he didn’t like it when she interrupted his work with a cup of tea, chiding him about his long hours, or pretend he did not buy strawberry jam for their scones because she preferred it to the blackberry one he usually kept.
Other things changed. She no longer waited for a summons, sometimes stopping by his shop simply to avoid having lunch alone or to share something she had recently baked- she seemed to have a lot of spare time now that people seemed to have stopped asking her to do things for them, and she felt a bit bad that she was rather enjoying it. He never turned her away or commented on her unexpected presence, and Belle theorised he was scared she would stop doing it. Alexander was a man used to loneliness, but he clearly craved social contact. And physical touch, which had rather surprised her. She was a very tactile person herself, but she had tried to refrain herself from touching the pawnbroker too much at first, convinced she was imposing herself on him, only for it soon to become clear to her that he welcomed the touch. It was easy to see in the way he seemed to subconsciously lean on it, sometimes chasing her hand as it retreated. 
When she realised he was not adverse to her touch but rather the opposite she increased it, determined to bring some much-needed human contact back into Alexander’s life. She grew used to walking but his side leaning slightly against him, arms linked together, noticing he leaned right back, or to linger when she touched him to get his attention. With time she even grew comfortable straightening his tie and setting his hair to rights when the wind made a mess of his veritable mane. She enjoyed it too, the growing bits of intimacy that made her feel nervous in a way she hadn’t in years. 
She didn’t allow herself to delve too deep into what it all meant.
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“Hey, long time no see stranger.”
Belle looked up from her half-finished piece of French toast, smiling up at Ruby in what she hoped was a placating way. She had been too busy with Alexander and the crew at the library putting the finishing touches on their work, which sometimes meant letting them into her apartment, to visit the diner, which meant she had not seen Ruby in a while. She was hoping her friend wouldn’t read too much into it.
“Hey, Ruby, sorry about that. It’s been a bit crazy at the library with all the work going on.”
It was more than a passable excuse and she thought it would be more than enough to dispel the shadow of suspicion in Ruby’s eyes. But it seemed to merely give her an opening to plop down on the seat in front of hers and lean on the table, her hair perilously close to her food.
“Speaking of that I’ve been meaning to ask you… How on Earth did you get the money for the fix? I mean, you were really worried about it a while ago.”
It would’ve been easy to hide, to say that she had managed to squirrel the money together over time. She hadn’t told Ruby about her dad’s financial woes, after all, so it would be believable. But all Belle could think about was that she could not believe Ruby was interested about that now, after months of very obviously trying to avoid the subject and redirecting the conversation when it did come up. Belle had told herself that her friend wasn’t being insensitive, she just didn’t understand how much she was worrying over the matter. It seemed she had been wrong.
“Now you want to talk about that? Because I thought you didn’t care. You certainly acted like you didn’t all those times I tried to talk to you about it before.”
“Hey, hey, let’s not get defensive! I was just asking, trying to be a good friend. It’s just that I haven’t seen you in a while and wanted to know how things were going. Granny and I miss you.”
“I didn’t move to another town, Ruby. The library is right across the street, you could come in at any point to visit.”
“Well, I-I don’t get many breaks. You know how much of a hardass Granny is.”
“Have you seen the library’s working hours? I’m the only librarian, Ruby, if the library is open then I’m working. Yet I’ve always made the effort to come in here, to spend money I do not have on tea and a scone so we could chat a bit and you could complain about your grandmother, your job or your love-life, and conveniently avoid asking me about my own. So why the sudden interest?”
There was something in there, something in Ruby’s eyes. Something that wasn’t the genuine concern of a friend, and she hated that she was pretending to care about things Belle had wanted her to care for a long time to get it out of her.
“Because I think I know! I know you did something, something bad! You made a deal with Gold, didn’t you?”
The waitress hissed those last words quietly, and the diner was almost deserted, but Belle still found herself looking around, making sure that no one had heard. She was not embarrassed or ashamed about her deal with Alexander, didn’t mind that people would judge her if they knew. But whatever that deal had created, whatever the relationship between them was now, she knew she wanted to keep it private, like something precious that wasn’t meant for other people to see.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
It felt wrong to lie to Ruby more than to anyone else, but the surprising anger she felt towards her helped with that feeling. Belle had not known she had been accumulating so much resentment, small things piling on top of each other, anecdotes and slights weaving together, things she hadn’t thought about much at the time but that had clearly stayed with her, adding to the rift that she now saw growing between her and the person she thought of as her best friend. It wasn’t just that she hadn’t had the time to visit Ruby recently, it was that she hadn’t felt the urge to. Even before she had made the deal with Alexander, coming into Granny’s had felt more like a chore. Ruby would preemptively beg her not to talk about the library, remarking she was tired of hearing about it and dismissively assuring her it was a non-issue and the council would come around and pay for the repairs in time.
“Meanwhile you’re scaring the customers away every time they come. They’re tired of hearing about it Belle, and Granny cannot afford to lose her regulars.”
Belle had accepted it at the time as Ruby looking out for her Gran and trying to boost her confidence about the council funds reaching her in time. But it had meant she could not talk about anything going on in her life, all of it consumed with the situation. So she had kept quiet, and tried to ignore the sting when Ruby didn’t seem to notice or mind that Belle was not telling her anything about her life, or that she was growing thin and pale and seemed vaguely anxious all the time. It hadn’t seemed to matter at the time, but, suddenly, it did.
“I saw you! The other night, all dolled up and getting out of his monster of a car in front of the library, at almost five in the morning. I couldn't believe it, so I was trying to give you the opportunity to explain yourself!”
She knew exactly what Ruby had seen. There had been a party a few nights ago that Alexander had wanted to use as an excuse to show around a newly-restored a blue-glass scarab necklace by Lalique, hoping it would catch the interest of someone and he would be able to sell it directly instead of having to negotiate it being put up for auction in an upcoming catalogue of Christie’s. She had purchased a lovely De la Renta made out of gold lame for the occasion, strapless with a sweetheart neckline to let the necklace shine and had put up her hair in a rather fetching imitation of a Gibson Girl bouffant. It had been a lovely night, draped over Alexander’s arm, both of them people-watching to pass the time whenever it was not mandatory for them to mingle. By the end of the night she had been pleasantly tipsy and he had confided in her that he had an informal offer for the necklace. ‘A little south of six figures’ he had told her, smiling that predatory smile at her, a little bit softened by the obvious admiration in his eyes at what he saw as her accomplishment. It was the first time Belle had consciously thought she wanted to kiss him, wanted him to lean close enough that she could reach his hair to pull him close and press her lips against his. 
And now Ruby was making it all sound something that wasn’t. Something unseemly.
“Whatever you think you saw it wasn’t what you’re trying to imply.”
She fished out her wallet from her purse, glad she did not have to scrounge up enough for the food and the tip amongst the loose change in her purse.
“And I don’t have to stay here and hear you imply I’m selling myself for the library or something. You know where to find me if you want to see me, but don’t feel rushed to do so.”
She waved at Granny on her way out, head held high and a weight off her chest.
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catcas22 · 1 year ago
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Rykard facecast
So over the course of writing Prince of Death, I think that Rykard has become, as they say, a blorbo. And I was thinking about who I would cast as Rykard in the theoretical Netflix adaptation of Prince of Death.
Then I remembered that I used to watch Once Upon a Time.
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You'd have to put him in some pretty tall shoes, but I think Robert Carlyle would absolutely kill as pre-snek Rykard.
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fluffapalooza · 2 years ago
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Well, it's that time of year again. What time of year, you say? Oh, hello there, Rumbelle newbies, I see you there, busily working away on filling out the ballot for the Chipped Cup Awards and flailing happily if some of your fics were nominated. Congratulations, and good, you should be in the right mood.
This is a fairy tale fandom, so let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, in the early times of the fandom, some of the Rumbelle writers looked at each other and said "Let's make all the Rumbellers cry". This challenge was taken up, and the Rumbelle War commenced, in which works of great angst and darkness were written. Readers cried and cursed the writers, who cackled evilly as they collected the broken hearts which were flung at their feet, and tucked them away in boxes and bags and old wooden card catalog drawers (because Rumbellers are big on libraries).
But because there must be light to balance the darkness, a new event was created -- FLUFFAPALOOZA.
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Fluffapalooza is when you write and draw and gif the fluffiest fics/art/scenes you can think of. Haven't got the time or spoons to do any of that but you've got ideas? Post them as prompts, or headcanons! Or if you want a challenge, make a post announcing that you want to play "Fluffify this!" and invite people to send you angsty-sounding prompts in the form of sentence starters, which you will then sneer at and say "Not today! Today is for fluff!" and write a little prompt fill in which you turn that prompt into something fluffy. (See an example here.) Or maybe you just want to rhapsodise about Rumbelle and talk about their chemistry, or what the ship means to you and how it affected your life. Maybe you want to reminisce about how we started adding silly Rumbelle captions to every picture of a croc or gator or lizard that crossed our dashes. Anything goes! Tag everything with #fluffapalooza if you want it reblogged here!
Oh boy, you're saying (I hope), it sounds like fun! When is it? FLUFFAPALOOZA IS FEBRUARY 12, AKA SKIN DEEP DAY, THE ELEVENTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE FOUNDING OF OUR SHIP. THIS IS OUR HIGH HOLY DAY, GUYS, LET'S KEEP THE LOVE FLOWING AND CELEBRATE IT RIGHT.
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(Oh yeah, and I believe it was in that contract you had to sign when you entered the fandom (you DID sign that scroll of parchment you were sent, yes?) that you have to reblog Love Is Purple and Love Is Still Purple at least once a year as part of the Anniversary Rites.)
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