#gaston would have never done that before he was already too far gone in his fixation with being the BEST

[emospritelet]

Key to the Cell - chapter 18/18

Last time, Belle and Rumple plotted with the fairies to confront Blue and take the magic bean she was holding so that they could travel to the Land Without Magic. Here's what happened next

Special thanks to @woodelf68 for her many suggestions as to what Gaston's fate should be XD

[AO3]

x

Belle had settled herself in one of the chairs in Rumplestiltskin’s tower workroom, watching him brew his potions and tinker with small, silver trinkets. She tried to stay awake, but found her eyes closing, and woke what seemed like moments later to his hand on her shoulder, a fond look on his face.

“It’s almost dawn,” he said quietly. “We should return to the others.”

“I only closed my eyes for a moment,” she said, yawning, and he chuckled.

“Yes, hours ago. It’s good that you got some rest. With any luck this will be an eventful day.”

Belle pushed upright, stretching to work out the stiffness in her limbs. Rumplestiltskin had returned to the workbench, and was putting bottles of coloured liquid and items in brass and silver into a leather bag.

“What have you enchanted?” she asked, interested, and he glanced up.

“I have some locator spells, several items with reservoirs of magic, protection amulets…”

“Shouldn’t we pack some clothing, too?” she asked, and he grinned.

“The packs are already in the library,” he said. “I presumed you would want more breeches.”

“You presume correctly, these are really comfortable.” She stretched again, yawning as she pushed her fists towards the ceiling. “What about gold? I suppose we’ll need some sort of money in this new land.”

“I’ve packed some of that, too.”

“What do you know about the Land Without Magic?” she asked, and he pulled a face.

“Precious little,” he admitted. “I gathered as much information as I could about other lands, and the records of the travellers that went there, but given how difficult it is to travel to lands without magic, I wasn’t surprised when my search turned up almost nothing. Perhaps no one managed to reach it. Perhaps they did, and couldn’t return.”

“And you’re certain he’s there?” she asked.

“Yes.” He said it simply, as though there was no question in his mind. “Yes, I’m certain. He’s there, and I’ll find him."

Belle nodded, waking slowly around the room and listening to the click of her boot heels against the floor. Dawn was just starting to lighten the sky at the horizon, and she could feel nerves start to swell inside her. We will win this fight. We must.

“How are we going to stop the Blue Fairy and Gaston?” she asked. “I know the fairies have agreed that banishing her is the best way to go, but she’s still powerful, and we still have to be able to banish her before she can either escape or - or cast a spell on us all.”

“I’m leaving it to the fairies to decide how to handle one of their own,” he replied. “Any solution I come up with will, I suspect, be rather lethal.”

“I very much doubt they’ll kill her,” she agreed, and he grunted,

“Can’t have everything, I suppose.”

“What about Gaston?” she asked. “He may be a big-headed brute, but he’s not entirely stupid.”

Rumplestiltskin gave her a secretive little smile.

“Something tells me he will bring about his own demise,” he said.

“I’d still like to give him a chance to be a decent person,” she said. “I very much doubt he’ll take it, but you never know.”

“I assure you I do,” he remarked. “Do you still have the book you cast that spell on?”

“It’s in the library,” she said. “Wait, didn’t you cast a spell on it, too?”

“I didn’t cast a different spell, I merely - tweaked yours,” he said. “Make sure you have it with you.”

“The spell was only for defensive purposes,” she said.

“And so it remains,” he said lightly. “Providing he doesn’t attack us, he’ll be fine.”

Belle snorted under her breath, and Rumplestiltskin chuckled. She dismissed thoughts of Gaston; Rumplestiltskin was right, it was likely he would attack them, and therefore would seal his own fate.

“Do we have a way back to this land?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Travelling to a magical realm is far easier than to one without magic. I have a way back for us, if we choose to take it.”

“You’ve thought of everything.”

“I’ve certainly tried to,” he said, looking weary. “It’s hard to know what we will face in this new land. How do people manage without magic anyway?”

“I’ve managed almost my whole life,” she said. “As did you, before you became the Dark One.”

He grunted at that, fastening the straps of the leather bag.

“Yes, and a more wretched creature would have been hard to find.”

Belle reached out to put her hand over his, feeling his body almost humming with tension. He glanced up at her, and she smiled, squeezing his hand.

“I don’t believe you were anywhere near as wretched as you say,” she said. “From what you tell me, you were a desperate father who loved his son and tried to do your best to protect him. No matter how poor you may have been, that in itself shows you have more heart and more courage than any of the nobles who sent children to war.”

He gave her a sad smile, and shrugged.

“Whatever courage I had—and believe me it was little enough—deserted me when it came down to it, though,” he said quietly. “I let Bae go because I was afraid. How much must he have gone through, alone, because of that. How he must hate me.”

His voice had faded to a whisper, and Belle shook her head.

“He may be very angry,” she agreed. “But anger and hate are not the same thing. If he gives you the chance to apologise and explain, I’m sure you can make it right again. It just might take some time.”

Rumplestiltskin gave her another sad smile, as though he doubted it.

“And even if it takes years,” she went on. “We shall have a whole new land to explore. Imagine how much we shall learn!”

“Little of use to your studies as my apprentice,” he remarked.

“Perhaps not,” she conceded. “But there are other things you can teach me, I’m sure.”

He looked up sharply, and she gave him a coy smile that made him swallow hard.

“No doubt there are things we can teach each other,” she added. He returned the smile briefly, and then glanced away, his expression uncertain.

“I - uh - I shall look different, you know,” he said. “In this new land.”

Belle blinked.

“You will?”

“Without the curse,” he said. “Without magic, I shall appear as I once did.”

“You’ll look - like an ordinary man?”

“Indeed.” His tone was dry. “I’m not sure whether you will think that better or worse.”

Belle raised her chin.

“I think you’re very handsome,” she said. “I’m sure I shall continue to think so. Whether covered in these little golden scales or without.”

He chuffed at that.

“A very strange girl,” he muttered.

“I suspect you’ll look just as good in leather trousers,” she added, and he barked a laugh before gloom seemed to flow over him once more.

“It’s not only my face,” he said. “Before the curse, I was lame. An injury to my right leg. I healed it with magic, but before the Dark Curse, I couldn’t walk without aid.”

“Oh.” Belle chewed her lip, then brightened. “Well, at least I shan’t worry about slowing you down when we have to walk. We can move at a pace that’s easy for both of us. And I’m sure you can take a - a cane, or a staff of some sort to help you.”

“I have one in the Great Hall,” he said quietly. “It’s the one I used before. It has notches on the length where I used to mark Bae’s height. It works well enough as a walking staff. Perhaps he’ll recognise it.”

His head drooped a little, and Belle reached out to squeeze his hand again.

“It’s going to be fine,” she said softly. “You’ll find him.”

Rumplestiltskin sighed, letting out a heavy breath, and nodded.

“I know.”

He patted one of the bags, and glanced across at her again.

“We’d better get down there,” he said quietly. “It’s time.”

-

When they reached the library, the fairies were awake and alert, gathered together in a circle and whispering. Rumplestiltskin had collected the staff he needed from the Great Hall, and Belle eyed it curiously as he leaned it against one of the chairs. It was a plain wooden staff, worn smooth where it had been gripped, and notches marked it, scattered along its length from around the halfway point. The record of Baelfire’s height as he grew. It made Belle’s heart clench, and she hoped that her husband would soon be reunited with the son he loved so dearly.

Rumplestiltskin made the pallets and blankets disappear with a flick of his fingers, and the fairies hurried towards him, the dwarfs standing at the edge of the room, hands on axes and stern expressions on their faces.

“It’s almost dawn,” said Nova. “We think Blue will be here soon, and we’ve all agreed what we’re going to do.”

“Do tell,” said Rumplestiltskin, tapping his fingers together.

“We need to take her by surprise and cast a binding spell,” said Tink. “Tiger Lily is the strongest of us, so she’ll cast the spell. The rest of us will cast a net to keep her from disappearing off to the fairy realms. She’ll be trapped until we banish her.”

“We’ll need you to hide us from her sight, though,” added Tiger Lily. “She’ll sense our magic the moment she enters the castle. If she suspects anything, I’m worried she’ll fly off and we’ll lose our chance.”

And we will lose the magic bean, thought Belle. The only chance for Rumple to find Bae. That can’t happen.

“I can shield you from her until it’s time,” agreed Rumplestiltskin.

“We want her to confess to what she’s done,” added Tiger Lily. “It would certainly strengthen our hand when we report back to the Council.”

“And if she doesn’t?” asked Belle.

“If we can recover any other items she took, that would help,” said Nova.

“What about taking the bean from her?” asked Rumplestiltskin. “There’s no deal without using the bean, as I’m sure you recall.”

“We remember the terms of the deal,” said Nova. “The bean will be taken from her, and used for her banishment. She’s taken enough of our treasures, after all.”

The other fairies nodded agreement, murmuring about stolen wands and confiscated artifacts. Rumplestiltskin gave a brisk nod.

“Very well,” he said. “When it’s done, and Lady Belle and I have left, the defences I put up around the Dark Castle will fall into place. I suggest you all leave without delay once we are through the portal. Five minutes should do it, just make sure you’re clear of the gates.”

“Understood,” said Nova. “We have enough dust between us to make a decent portal back to the fairy realms.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded, clapping his hands together.

“Then it’s agreed,” he said. “Let’s see what our intruders are up to, shall we?”

He nodded to Belle, who immediately retrieved the magic mirror and held it up.

“I’d like to see the Blue Fairy, please,” she said.

The image was once more of a tent interior, Gaston pacing back and forth with shoulders hunched and hands clasped behind his back, his red doublet stretched across his wide shoulders and his heavy boots thumping on the ground. The Blue Fairy appeared to have just entered the tent; a brief view of the pinkish horizon broken by dark, craggy mountains showed as the flap closed behind her. Gaston paused in his pacing, turning to face her.

“My men are in position,” he growled. “They’re at the western gate, as you suggested. I don’t see any defenders lining up to keep them out. This should be an easy conquest.”

“The Dark One has no need of soldiers,” she said. “I hope your men are obedient. If they break into the castle grounds before we have subdued the Dark One, we’ll have a massacre on our hands.”

“They’ll wait,” he said curtly. “It seems like all we’ve been doing is waiting. When do we enter the castle? Dawn has come, you said we’d attack at dawn.”

“And so we shall.” Blue lifted her wand. “It’s time. Come, stand near me. I’ll take us into the library. Once we’re inside you must wait there until I return from the fairy realms.”

Gaston shouldered a quiver of arrows and grasped his bow, putting his other hand on the hilt of his sword. The Blue Fairy shook her head.

“You’ll have no need of those weapons,” she said. “The Dark One cannot enter the library. Nor can he be hurt by swords or arrows. Magic is the way to defeat him.”

“A man likes the comfort of hard steel in his hand,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

“Suit yourself.”

“A warrior knows to prepare himself for all possible outcomes to battle,” he went on. “What if your magic fails you? What if your wand is taken? How will you defend yourself against the creature then?”

Blue smiled sweetly, one hand slipping to her belt in what seemed to be an unconscious motion.

“I suggest you leave those concerns to me, and consider your own part in this,” she said. “Your bride will no doubt be waiting for you. Quickly, now. Take my hand, and I’ll take you inside the castle.”

Belle put down the mirror, glancing at Rumplestiltskin.

“They’re coming,” he announced. “Fairies, dwarfs, stay on that side of the room.”

He waved a hand, and Belle watched as the band of fairies and dwarfs were hidden behind a shimmering curtain of light. It solidified, the light winking out, and she blinked as the room looked empty apart from the two of them. Recalling Rumplestiltskin’s words in the tower, she hurriedly looked around for her enchanted book, spying it on one of the small tables and snatching it up.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered.

She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but then nodded slowly. A tingling in her skin, a pleasant feeling that spread through her body.

“Light magic,” he breathed. “Be ready.”

She nodded, hugging the book to her chest, and jumped as a portal opened with a flare of blue light, Gaston stumbling a little as he and the Blue Fairy appeared in the centre of the room.

“Well well,” said Rumplestiltskin, in a nasty drawl. “My library has certainly suffered in my absence. Look at the vermin that have slithered inside.”

Blue’s mouth and eyes widened in shock, and he gave her an unpleasant smile.

“Now!” shouted Nova.

There was a flash of red light, knocking Blue’s wand from her hand. Shining ropes in a myriad of colours snaked towards her through the air, wrapping around her and pinning her arms to her sides, and she struggled desperately, a furious look on her face. Gaston had drawn his sword, turning on the spot as though unsure who to attack first, and there was a collective roar from the dwarfs as they barrelled towards him from behind the barrier. He managed to parry the first axe-blow, and the second, but eight against one was only ever going to have one outcome. Grumpy’s axe knocked his sword from his hands and the dwarfs swarmed over him. By the time he was hauled to his feet, the weapons had been stripped from him and he was scowling heavily, blood flowing from a split lip and a heavy red welt over one eye. His brows lowered as he saw Belle by Rumplestiltskin’s side.

“Get away from that beast, you foolish girl!” he snarled, and Rumplestiltskin smirked.

“Careful how you address my wife,” he said, emphasising the words. It made Belle’s heart thump harder.

“Belle is mine!” roared Gaston, struggling against his captors. “We’re betrothed! You will give her back to me, or—”

He cut off, appearing to choke around an invisible gag, and Rumplestiltskin gave him a nasty smile. Gaston’s mouth worked furiously, his face reddening, but Rumplestiltskin had already turned away, focusing his attention on Blue. She had drawn herself up to her full height within the magical bonds, her nostrils flaring with outrage as her eyes flicked between the fairies, as though memorising each face.

“You will all pay dearly for this!” she hissed. “When the Council finds out you aided the Dark One—”

“When the Council finds out you were imprisoning your sisters without even a pretence at a trial, what do you think they’ll say?” asked Tiger Lily coldly. “How many children have been without the guidance of their fairy godmothers in our absence? What damage has been wrought from that loss?”

Her eyes flicked to Rumplestiltskin and away, fixing on Blue.

“You ought to be condemned for that alone,” she said. “Meddling in the affairs of countless generations for your own ends. Pitting fairy against fairy in your quest for control. Not to mention that you’ve been keeping and using magical objects for your own purposes. Search her!”

Blue squawked in outrage as Tink and Nova began searching her belt pouch and the pockets of her dress. The contents were laid out next to her wand on a nearby table. A gilt-edged book, a slim dagger in a pearl-covered sheath, a crystal vial with a stopper in cut sapphire, and a small purse in battered brown leather. Belle watched as Rumplestiltskin’s eyes fixed on it.

“You have no right to do this!” spluttered Blue. “You are interfering in important diplomatic affairs!”

“If you’re referring to Sir Gaston wanting to abduct me and force me into a marriage against my will, I welcome their interference,” said Belle coldly. “This castle belongs to my husband, and to me through my marriage to him. You are not welcome here, either one of you. You are intruders with hostile intent, and the law of the land is clear on what we are entitled to do with you. Be grateful that we have allowed your sisters to decide your fate rather than erect a gibbet in the courtyard.”

Rumplestiltskin eyed her with a look of pride, and she raised her chin, staring down her nose at her would-be captors.

“Do not quote the law of the land to me, you foolish girl!” snapped Blue. “I should think you would be happy to be rescued from a marriage to this - this monster!”

“He’s no monster, you are!” said Belle hotly. “We entered this marriage as equals! He doesn’t see me as property or - or as a pawn to be used. We wish to be left alone to live our lives in peace!”

“Peace with the Dark One?” Blue burst into cold, humourless laughter. “You’re a gullible fool to believe his lies! I see the beast has used that silver tongue of his to excellent effect with you.”

“Well, it is our honeymoon,” said Rumplestiltskin in a drawling tone, and Belle shot him a quelling look before turning back to Blue.

“I don’t care if you think I’m gullible,” she said. “I have always prided myself on looking beyond appearances, and I believe I understand Rumplestiltskin a good deal better than you.”

Blue closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as though trying to calm herself. When she opened her eyes again, she was smiling sweetly. It made Belle’s skin crawl.

“Whatever the Dark One has been telling you about me is untrue, you know,” she said gently. “You must know that dark creatures cannot be trusted. They do not think or feel as you and I do. Their purpose is chaos and destruction. They cannot love.”

“Oh, we can, you know,” said Rumplestiltskin quietly.

“I’m sure that creatures of darkness can love just as well as we can,” said Belle coldly. “The ogres went to war against these lands because Sir Gaston here tortured one of their children. They can feel and think as deeply as we, and those claiming to be creatures of light can just as easily do evil.”

“That’s right, sister!” said Grumpy. “She told me dwarfs can’t love either, that what I felt for Nova was a lie! She’s the liar!”

The Blue Fairy sighed.

“Really, I try my hardest to do the best I can for the good of all, and this is the thanks I get.”

“You imprisoned us,” said Tiger Lily sternly. “From our search of your belongings, I can see that you have the Book of Alanor, which was thought to be lost.”

“I was holding onto it for safekeeping,” said Blue stiffly.

“And this?” Tiger Lily picked up the crystal vial. “What is it?”

Blue pursed her lips, looking away, and Tink took the stopper out of the vial and sniffed cautiously before pulling back and wrinkling her nose.

“It’s dark magic!” she exclaimed. “Ugh! Why carry a potion made with dark magic? And why disguise it like this?”

“Let me see that,” said Rumplestiltskin sharply, and snatched the bottle from her before sniffing in turn. His eyebrows jerked in surprise.

“What is it?” asked Belle.

“It’s poison,” he said, and replaced the stopper in the vial with care, placing it back on the table before stepping back with his hands raised. “A rather deadly poison, I believe. Enquiring minds might wonder where, how and why an alleged creature of light procured such a thing.”

“You don’t get to question me, Dark One!” snapped Blue.

“A stolen book,” said Tiger Lily, her tone clear. “The use of poison created by dark magic. Mass incarceration of innocent fairies...” She opened up the leather pouch, and a bean fell out, gleaming white against the polished wood of the table. “And this. The concealment of a magic bean.”

The fairies exclaimed loudly, as though finding the bean were a surprise to them, and Blue glared around the room.

“I have been holding this bean for important reasons!” she snapped. “The fact that none of the Council saw fit to trust any of you with those reasons is hardly my fault!”

“And the Council will corroborate your story, will they?” asked Tiger Lily. “Those you haven’t been able to bully or browbeat into doing what you want, anyway. If we were to call Nebula here and ask about these important secret reasons, would she be able to confirm that she was fully aware that you had the bean and the Book of Alanor?”

Blue pursed her lips, looking away, and Tiger Lily turned to the other fairies, her expression determined, dark eyes steady and stern.

“We’ve all seen the evidence,” she said. “I believe the Blue Fairy is not fit to lead. What say you?”

“Agreed!” chorused the fairies.

“This is outrageous!” spluttered Blue.

“I believe that the Blue Fairy is a danger to our order,” went on Tiger Lily. “I believe that she should be banished until such time as we can be sure she is no longer a threat. What say you?”

“Agreed!”

“This is a disgrace!” fumed Blue. “When the Council hears of this—”

“All in favour of banishment?” called Tiger Lily.

All the fairies raised their hands, fists in the air. Rumplestiltskin raised both of his and got a level look from Tiger Lily in return.

“Then it is agreed,” she said. “And so we come to the Blue Fairy’s accomplice.”

The Blue Fairy was still talking, uttering threats and making dire predictions about what would happen to the fairies, and Tiger Lily gave an impatient wave of her wand. The noise cut off in an instant, and Blue glared furiously.

“I’ll deal with Sir Gaston,” said Belle.

Tiger Lily bowed her head in acquiescence, stepping back, and Belle glanced at Rumplestiltskin.

“Rumple, could you let him speak?” she asked. “Grumpy, could you and your brother let him up, please? I want to talk to him.”

Rumplestiltskin flicked his fingers, and Gaston coughed several times before scowling at them.

“You sure about this?” asked Grumpy in a gruff tone. “This one looks like he could cause some trouble.”

“Let him up,” repeated Belle. “I want to give him a chance.”

“A chance?” Gaston glared at the dwarfs holding his arms. “I need no chances! Just hand me my sword and fight me one-on-one!”

“You can stand as long as you promise not to try to harm anyone,” said Belle coolly. “Otherwise we can have this conversation with you tied hand and foot. If you stay calm, we’ll think about letting you up.”

“I am calm!” snapped Gaston, scowling, but shrugged. “Fine, have it your way! I swear not to try to harm these - upstart miners.”

“Can we gag him again?” asked one of the dwarfs.

Belle bit her lip, trying not to laugh, and motioned to them to let Gaston go. He straightened up, folding huge arms across his chest and glaring.

“So,” he said. “You take the side of this beast over your own kind!”

“He’s not a beast, he’s my husband,” said Belle coldly.

“Husband!” sneered Gaston. “That marriage could be annulled with the stroke of a pen! The idea that a noblewoman could be held to any promise made to this - this thing - is ridiculous! He’s the Dark One! He’s not human! He didn’t even speak the proper vows! You will return with me and become my wife as was agreed!”

“I can’t marry you when I’m already married!” she said sharply. “Besides, I wouldn’t. Given the choice I’d rather marry one of the ogres than you!”

“They certainly have a more progressive view of female property rights,” remarked Rumplestiltskin.

“I wasn’t talking to you, imp!” snapped Gaston.

“He’s still right, though,” said Belle. “And I have no intention of breaking my marriage vows to my husband over a betrothal that wasn’t even my choice.”

“Plus annulment is out of the question,” added Rumplestiltskin. “We consummated the marriage.”

“Several times,” said Belle lightly.

Gaston’s face was growing redder by the moment, and Belle could sense that he was working himself up to losing his temper in spectacular fashion.

“I will not return with you, Gaston,” she said. “I will not marry you. There is no future that involves you and I and it is ludicrous to think there will be.”

Gaston opened his mouth angrily, but she kept on.

“By breaking into the Dark One’s castle you have made him your enemy,” she said, “and while as his wife I like to think I have some influence, I cannot and will not guarantee your safety. If you value your life you will leave this place and never return.”

“My men are outside,” he said grimly. “Hundreds of them, all armed to the teeth. One word from me and they will storm this castle and kill anyone they find.”

“I could kill them with a flick of my little finger,” said Rumplestiltskin in a bored voice. “You really ought to try threats that have some basis in reality. Takes all the fun out of a slaughter.”

Gaston’s jaw jutted forward as he clenched his fists.

“I am offering you your life,” said Belle clearly. “In return for leaving me and my husband in peace.”

“Those are really very generous terms,” said Rumplestiltskin cheerfully. “Given the chance I’d have pulled your kneecaps off and waved them in front of you.”

Belle wanted to sigh, but kept her attention on Gaston, who was looking as though he had eaten something that disagreed with him.

“Do you agree to our terms?” asked Belle.

“I’m just supposed to put up with the rest of the kingdom laughing at me behind my back for the rest of my days, am I?” he demanded.

“You can always choose death,” said Rumplestiltskin, with a lazy swirl of one hand. “That might be preferable to ridicule to one of your type.”

“Death.” Gaston lowered his head, shoulders slumping. “Sometimes death is the only way to restore honour.”

Belle felt her eyes widen in alarm.

“You don’t need to die,” she said sharply. “There’s no need for violence. Just leave us in peace!”

There was a moment of silence. The air was heavy with tension, and Belle could feel her heart thumping, her skin tingling. Gaston raised his head, eyes gleaming malevolently as he let out a hollow chuckle.

“Oh, I didn’t mean me,” he growled.

Leaping forward, he snatched up the small dagger from the table top and lunged at Belle. Rumplestiltskin stepped in front of her, raising a hand to hurl a spell, but before he could do so there was a flash of purple smoke from the book in her arms and a crackle of energy that made her hair want to stand on end. The sound of a scream made Belle duck, holding the book in front of her like a shield, and only the comforting feel of Rumplestiltskin’s hand on her shoulder made her straighten up and open her eyes.

The smoke was clearing, the fairies and dwarfs clustered together, wide-eyed and clamouring in outrage over the attack on Belle. Gaston had disappeared, the dagger he had snatched falling to the floor with a tinkling sound, and in his place was a sturdy grey donkey. Gaston’s heavy leather belt hung around its neck and it trotted backwards, hooves clattering against the floorboards before it turned in a circle, a bewildered look in its eyes.

“Is - is that Gaston?” asked Belle, and Rumplestiltskin smirked.

“A fitting punishment, wouldn’t you say?” he said, briefly inspecting the palm of his hand before rubbing it on his thigh. “Since he had so little respect for the peasants on his land, I thought he would do well to work for them. Perhaps we can send him to the sister of that maid of yours. Gerta, is it?”

The donkey brayed loudly, ears flattening as it showed large, surprisingly white and even teeth, and Belle hid a smile behind her hand.

“Will - will he always be a donkey?” she asked, and Rumplestiltskin shrugged.

“That’s very much up to him,” he said. “If he has true remorse for his past actions, the spell will lift. If not, I’m afraid he’ll be hauling water and carrying goods to market for the rest of his miserable life.” He leaned close to the donkey. “I can see the future,” he whispered. “Better get used to a bridle.”

He straightened up, and with a flick of his fingers the donkey disappeared in a cloud of red smoke. Rumplestiltskin looked pleased with himself, tapping his fingers together as he turned back to face Blue with an unpleasant grin.

“Now,” he said. “Where were we?”

“You can’t banish me,” said Blue loftily, ignoring Rumplestiltskin as she favoured the fairies with a frosty glare. “None of you has the strength to strip me of my magic, and if you think I’m going to kick my heels in some far-off kingdom while you mess things up for all of fairykind, you’re gravely mistaken.”

Tiger Lily stepped forward, and reached for the magic bean. It gleamed as she held it up, a tiny point of white light, and Blue’s eyes widened in shock.

“You wouldn’t dare!” she breathed.

“Rheul Ghorm,” intoned Tiger Lily. “From this moment forth you are banished from the Enchanted Forest.”

“Don’t do this!” snapped Blue. “It’s what the Dark One wants, can’t you see that? He’s played you all for fools! I’m the only one who can stand against him!”

“I hope you take time to reflect on the harm you have done and the pain you have caused,” went on Tiger Lily, as though she hadn’t spoken, “and that you use this opportunity to build a new and better life.”

“Try to be nicer,” added Nova.

“I will return, you mark my words!” said Blue heatedly. “I will return, and when I do, you will all pay for this!”

“Rumplestiltskin,” said Tiger Lily, turning to him and holding out the bean. “I believe this concludes our deal.”

She dropped the bean into his palm, and Rumplestiltskin grinned widely. He nodded to Belle, who hurriedly grabbed the packs he had stowed. Holding up a hand, he gestured towards his staff, and it wobbled against the chair before slamming into his palm. Rumplestiltskin held up the bean and closed his eyes. Belle could see his lips moving, as though he was whispering a prayer. Or a promise. She edged closer to him, closing her eyes in turn, and willed the magic to take them to his son. Lead us to Baelfire. Let us find him.

She felt rather than heard the portal open, a wave of pressure that washed over her and stole the breath from her lungs. Her eyes flew open as a ripple of green energy burst outwards, a dark hollow at its centre, a churning whirlpool of magic. Blue was staring at the portal in horror, and seemed to say something, but it was snatched away in the tumult. She was trying to edge away from it, but Rumplestiltskin picked up a foot and shoved at the small of her back, and she disappeared into the void with a fading scream. Rumplestiltskin turned to Belle, taking one of the packs from her and shouldering it before grasping her hand. His smile was tremulous, fear and anxiety and rising hope, and she smiled back, squeezing his hand.

“Let’s go and find Baelfire,” she said.

He nodded, and turned back to the portal, seeming to steel himself before taking a step. Belle closed her eyes, foot lifting to follow him, and felt her body seized by an immense force as she was dragged from the castle into the void.

-

Before she had time to process how it felt to be inside a magical whirlpool, she hit what seemed like hard earth with a thump. Winded, she rolled onto her back, wriggling her left arm to dislodge the pack, and stared up at the sky as she tried to catch her breath. It was dark, and the stars were shining, pinpricks against darkest blue beyond a stream of blue and purple that stretched across the sky, scattered with countless points of light, thousands of stars. Stars she had never seen before. It was breathtakingly beautiful. She realised it was cold, too, bitterly so, and the ground beneath her hands was wet and soft. There was a familiar scent in the air, pine resin and leaf mulch. They were in a forest.

“Belle?”

Relief flooded over her at the sound of Rumplestiltskin’s voice, that low voice he used when they were intimate, when it was just the two of them.

“Fuck!” he growled, and that made her push up on her elbows.

She was lying on the ground in the midst of a forest, thick pine needles and leaf litter having cushioned her fall somewhat. There was snow on the ground, adding a wan, bluish light to the scene, but there was no moon. Perhaps this world didn’t have a moon. Rumplestiltskin was a hunched figure kneeling next to her, amongst the black trunks of what looked like fir trees. It was too dark to see his face.

“Keep forgetting I can’t use bloody magic!” he grumbled. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she said. “Is this it? Are we here?”

He pushed up onto his knees, looking around.

“Well, we’re certainly in the Land Without Magic,” he said dryly. “In the woods. By some sort of road, if I’m not mistaken. Let’s have a look, shall we?”

He held out a hand, and made to rise before crying out and falling to the floor again.

“What is it?” asked Belle anxiously, and he shook his head.

“Forgot about my bloody leg, too,” he said. “No matter, that’s what the staff is for.”

He managed to get the staff into position and pushed to his feet, but he was limping badly, and Belle thought he might do better with a shorter cane, as her late uncle had once used.

“Perhaps we should rest,” she said. “We could make a fire.”

“Let’s just get to the road and see what we can see,” he said. “It’s only beyond the trees.”

It sounded as though he was grimacing, and Belle hoped that wherever they were in this new land, it wasn’t too far from a town. The trees cleared, and they stepped onto the edge of a well-maintained road. Belle bent to touch it curiously. Its surface was hard and relatively smooth compared to the ground beside it, but it wasn’t paved or cobbled, and it wasn’t simply packed earth. It stretched away into the distance, winding through the trees to the right as though the forest went on forever. To the left, a sign was standing at the side of the road: Welcome to Storybrooke, it read.

Rumplestiltskin and Belle shared a glance. Her eyes were getting used to the dark, and she could almost make out his features, starlight gleaming on the lines of his nose and cheekbones.

“Storybrooke,” she said. “That must be where we need to go.”

“Yes.” He looked beyond the sign, down the road to the town. “That’s where he is. We’re going to find my son. We’re going to find my Bae.”

[vampiregirl1797]

Moments in Time

Peter Kavinsky x Reader

GIF Not Mine.

Click Here For Masterlist.

Summary: A collection of moments of your relationship with Peter since you started “officially” dating. 

Word Count: 9,724– whoops, couldn’t help myself.

Warnings: Smut, oral female receiving, hand jobs female and male receiving, sexual intercourse. If there are anymore I’ve missed let me know and I’ll add them in!

//

Peter and I had started dating just before Christmas break. Of course we’d been “fake dating” for three months at that point after my five secret love letters had gotten mailed out by my younger sister. He’d wanted to make Genevieve jealous, and I’d wanted to avoid my controlling ex boyfriend who had been badgering me for weeks after I broke up with him. Neither of us had planned on developing feelings, and when I’d realised I was in real danger of falling in love with Peter Kavinsky it had been on the ski trip. It had been on the ride up there when he’d revealed a playlist he’d created, compiled of music he knew I liked, for us to listen to. He’d also bought snacks and drinks he knew I liked. By the time we got there, I’d decided to take him aside and reveal my desire to terminate our fake relationship, because of my blossoming feelings for him. When he’d told me that he didn’t want to because he felt the same for me as I did for him, I’d been shocked and overjoyed. We’d spent the rest of the trip in a state of new relationship bliss, sharing kisses, affectionate touches and even sharing a bed. We hadn’t gone that far, but it had been nice to wake up in his arms, to hear his husky morning voice and see his adorable sleepy face. 

We’d been together since that trip and our relationship was unbelievably wonderful. Better than my previous relationship with Frederick Layton, though we’d only been out on two dates he’d been unbearably controlling, and until Peter I’d wondered if that was what all relationships would be like. Thankfully, I’d been wrong, as we had a relationship built on trust, communication, love and passion. 

My phone dinged on my dresser and I felt the smile grow on my face as I read the text Peter had just sent to me:

Just leaving my house, beautiful. I’ll be at yours soon, can’t wait to take you out.

It wasn’t our first date, at least I didn’t think it was— I’d say we’d already had a few, though none had been as official as this one— but it always made my heart warm whenever he expressed his happiness to be with me. I slid my phone into the pocket of my deep red skater dress, and slid my maroon high top converse onto my feet. Once I was sure I had my card wallet, along with a little cash in my other pocket I headed downstairs.

‘Hey honey.’ My dad’s voice greeted from the dinner table, where he and Kitty were eating the pizza they’d had delivered.

‘Hey dad.’ I smiled, walking over to ruffle Kitty’s hair and chuckling when she ducked away, ‘hey trouble.’

‘Hey Y/N.’ She replied, playfully slapping my hand away, ‘you look really pretty.’

‘Thanks kiddo.’ I said, making my way to the door as the bell rang.

‘Hey Pete.’ I murmured, reaching out and entwining our fingers together.

‘Hey beautiful.’ He kissed the back of my hand, my face flushing at the soft look in brown eyes, ‘you ready to go?’

‘Yeah.’ We walked out of the door with a quick goodbye to my dad and sister, and my dad making Peter promise to have me home by eleven.

I kissed his cheek as he held the passenger side of his jeep open for me, and I held his hand as he drove us to the restaurant. During the drive he told me about his day so far; he’d been putting in extra work outs in the mornings to prepare for lacrosse season starting up again when we went back to school. 

‘I just need to do well, you know? Collages are gonna start sending out scouts soon and I need a scholarship.’ He said, biting his lower lip in a way that indicated how anxious he really was. 

I waited until he’d put the car in park and turned off the engine before I spoke, my free hand caressing the side of his face as his hazel eyes stared into mine, ‘you’re going to get seen, Peter. I know it— you’re too good a lacrosse player to not get scouted by multiple collages. All you need to focus on is training and becoming the best player you can be.’ 

His eyes softened as he leaned forward, his forehead resting against mine, ‘thank you, honey.’ He whispered, his eyes fluttering closed as my hand moved from his cheek to his thick, dark hair, gently moving through the strands.

‘I got you Peter,’ I murmured, ‘I’ll always be in your corner.’ 

His hands wound around my waist, pulling me as close as he could in his Jeep. We held each other for a while, his face resting in the crook of my neck and my nose buried in his hair, inhaling his fresh, clean scent and something else that was just pure Peter Kavinsky. Eventually though, the sound of his stomach rumbling broke the moment, and we pulled apart with a chuckle and headed into the restaurant. 

‘So I have to ask seeing as I’m a complete novice at this,’ I smiled in thanks as the waitress placed our drink orders on the table before leaving, ‘does this count as a first date, even though I’d already say we’ve had loads already?’ We had, but nothing as official as going out to a restaurant like we were now.

He grinned, taking a sip of his drink and leaning forward to hold my hands in his, I turned my hand and entwined our fingers together, enjoying the warmth he was emitting.

‘I’d say that a first date can be anything you want it to be.’ His thumb moved across the back of my hand and he smiled when he saw goose bumps break out across my skin from the smooth touch, ‘for me our first date was at the ski lodge before Christmas break last year.’

I blinked, surprised, ‘we only agreed to officially date on that trip.’ 

‘Exactly,’ he smiled, his eyes a little unfocused as if he were in a different memory, ‘and that night we shared the hot tub and I got to fall asleep with you in my arms. Best date ever.’

I blushed, but the smile that grew on my lips couldn’t be disputed, ‘it was wonderful. I’d say that was our first date, too. Waking up to you was amazing as well, I miss that.’ We hadn’t been able to share a bed since the ski trip, my father careful to assure we’d never have a reason for a sleepover, though we hadn’t broached the ‘sex’ territory yet, Peter had already done it but I hadn’t, and he promised to wait until I was ready.

‘Me too honey.’ He lifted my hands and kissed them, before lowering them to rest on the table again, ‘but I have an idea about how we can do that again, depending on if Chris is willing to cover for you.’ 

‘Hmm I’m interested, tell me more,’ I leaned forward, excited at the prospect of spending time with him, completely alone.

‘If you’re up for the idea, I know a great place we can go camping for the weekend. I used to go with my dad and brother before he left.’ His smile turned a little sad and I squeezed his hands in comfort, wishing there was something I could do to ease his pain, ‘I can get someone on the lacrosse team to cover for me, and if Chris will cover for you, we’ll be all set.’

‘That sounds perfect.’ I smiled, knowing my eyes were sparkling with happiness at the idea, ‘I’ll talk to her about it, she’ll probably ask for a few favours in return but it’ll be worth it.’

‘Awesome. Let me know, this weekend is one of the last good ones before the weather gets cold and lacrosse training really kicks in next week.’ He murmured, his thumb subconsciously moving against the back of my hands as he spoke. I think he did it without even thinking because he knew it comforted me; I’d told him a few weeks after we’d started “officially” dating, that his touch comforted me in a way that I couldn’t explain, and since he’d made a point to always be touching me in someway. 

Our food came not long after and our conversation settled a little as we ate; I had carbonara and Peter had a pepperoni pizza, which he offered me a slice of in exchange for a taste of my food. After the meal Peter surrendered his keys to me, insisting that he was too full to drive, and I accepted them with a chuckle as I drove us back towards home. When I passed Lake Gaston and noted the empty car park I impulsively decided to drive in, entranced with the way the moonlight reflected off the water. That and the blissful silence, it was easy to pretend we weren’t in Virginia. 

‘It’s beautiful here.’ I murmured, not really thinking about the words as they left my mouth.

‘It is.’ He agreed, but he was looking at me, not the scenery. He reached over, entwining our hands together and earning my gaze as I turned, taken away with how gorgeous he looked in the moonlight. 

I gasped when his hands fell to my waist and he lifted me up onto his lap before I had time to ask what he was doing. My forehead fell against his and our lips melded together like two magnets that were powerless to resist the pull between them. His lips were soft, and his hands were warm as they trailed down from my shoulders to my waist, were they paused to pull me even closer to him. The friction caused me to gasp and his tongue slid into my open mouth without hesitation, moving against mine with a seductive slowness that made my knees feel weak. I didn’t know when my hands moved to his hair, I was too lost in what he was doing to me to pay attention to my own movements, but I became aware of it when a noise of pleasure emitted from between us. I tugged the strands a little and felt myself shuffle closer to him at the groan that escaped his mouth, attracted to his pleasure. My hips were completely aligned with his at that point; I could feel how much he wanted me, how ready he would have been if I’d reached down and released him from his jeans and asked him to take me. But that wasn’t how I wanted my first time to happen so my hands stayed where they were.

His didn’t.

They slid down my legs until he reached the hem of my dress and skated up to the tops of my thighs. I felt a nervous twinge in my stomach but I ignored it; we’d already spoken about boundaries and I trusted him not to violate my trust. His thumb gently skated over my centre, barely pushing the fabric of my underwear into where I was starting to throb with need. I pulled my lips away from his, my head moving to rest against his shoulder, my breath coming quickly as the pleasure he was giving me grew. His other hand moved to my back, softly stroking up and down the centre of my back in a comforting gesture. I felt myself melt into him and when he moved my underwear to the side and it was suddenly his fingers completely against my clit with nothing in between, my back arched from the shock and the incredible jolt that echoed throughout my body. 

He moved back and forth, down to my entrance and back up again, repeating the motion and stopping on the bundle of nerves in between, before doing it all again. It wasn’t long before I was shaking, on the edge of my first ever orgasm inflicted by someone other than myself and my god, all the times I’d masturbated it had never been this good. The build up had never been this intense, and when I finally reached my release my vision flashed white and I stopped breathing, fully surrendering my body to the incredible pleasure that echoed throughout my body. 

I didn’t know how long it took me to come back around, but when I did I was still on Peter’s lap. He was stroking my hair, whispering soft praises into my ear, and occasionally pausing to kiss my forehead. 

‘Peter that was... amazing.’ I whispered, nuzzling into his neck and enjoying his scent as it invaded my nostrils.

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it honey.’ He kissed my hair this time, and I could hear the soft smile in his voice. 

‘Can I return the favour?’ I asked, somewhat timidly.

‘You don’t have to do that, Y/N. I can take care of myself when I get home, and trust me, I’ll need to. Watching you fall apart was the most arousing thing I’ve ever seen.’ His voice dropped to a husky tone that would have me rubbing my thighs together if I weren’t already straddling him.

‘I want to,’ I insisted, shuffling down and kneeling to the floor of the car so I could comfortably settle in between his legs, ‘but I’ve never done this before so tell me if I’m doing something you don’t like.’

‘Okay.’ He murmured, his voice barely loud enough for me to hear as my hands fell to the button on his jeans. 

I undid it and unzipped the zipper, shooting him a grateful smile when he lifted his hips so I could pull his jeans and underwear down together. I tried to control my surprise at his size as he sprang up against his stomach without anything holding him in place. He was huge, at least to me he was— was eight inches big? I made a mental note to look it up later as my hand tentatively wrapped around the base of his shaft, encouraged by the noise that fell from his mouth I lifted it higher, all the way to the tip and then back down again. His hips jolted, involuntarily, as he tired to follow the movement of my hand, and I felt myself speed up in response, entranced with him. His hands were tangled in his hair, pulling at the strands at increasing force as I sped up around him, he was biting his lip, his eyes were focused on me and darker than I’d ever seen them, pleasure and arousal swimming in the almost chocolate brown depths. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him, and I held his stare until he fell apart in my hand, his release coating my skin as I reached over for the tissues in my bag, I cleaned myself, as well as him though he didn’t seem to notice; his head was resting against his seat with a blissed out look on his face. Once I was done I tucked him back into his boxers and jeans before curling up on his lap, my hands moving gently though his hair as I patiently waited for him to recover.

‘That was amazing, honey.’ He eventually said, his voice sounding sore as he placed a chaste but lingering kiss on my lips.

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’ I replied, my cheeks flushing almost immediately— was that a normal thing to say in these situations?

He chuckled and kissed my forehead but otherwise said nothing. We were both happy to bask in the comfortable silence and our afterglow until we realised the time and knew we needed to get me back home before my dad sent out a search party. He dropped me off five minutes before curfew and left me with an ‘I love you’ and a kiss that left us both breathless. 

As I was laying in bed an hour later, I wondered how different school was going to be now Peter and I were officially together. But I knew, no changes mattered as long as Peter Kavinsky was there to hold my hand.

//

Peter had come in early to do some training with a few other guys on the lacrosse team, so I drove myself and Kitty to school the next day. Which was fine, I mean I didn’t like driving but I didn’t mind doing it when necessary. I actually got caught in traffic and ended up making it to school two minutes before the final bell rang, which left enough time for me to get to class, but meant that I didn’t get the chance to talk to anyone before I was thrown in to English class. I was pleased to see that Chris and I were together for Trigonometry second period, and third I had Lucas. First and fourth I was alone friendship wise and I was kinda grateful for it because English and Chemistry were my weakest subjects so I needed to concentrate. 

By the time lunch rolled around I was starving and excited to see Peter— we’d been texting throughout the day but it wasn’t the same. I was walking as fast as possible towards the exit of the Chem room, hoping to get to the cafeteria asap, that I almost walked right past him. If he hadn’t grabbed the belt-loop on the shorts I was wearing, I would have missed him completely.

‘Peter.’ I breathed, my voice soft with surprise and delight.

‘Hey beautiful.’ He grinned, leaning down to rest his forehead against mine, his hands resting on my waist.

‘I don’t mean to sound all clingy or anything, but I missed you.’ I told him, my face flushing at the gently, adoring look that adorned his features following my admission, ‘it feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.’

‘I wouldn’t say that’s clingy.’ He assured me, kissing my forehead and winding his arm around my waist as we started to walk to the cafeteria, ‘but if it is, I’m right there with you honey.’

We shared a smile, full of love, adoration and pure honey-moon phase happiness that I hoped didn’t dissipate completely. We ended up completely bypassing the cafeteria in favour of sitting on what I’d internally deemed as “our picnic table” near the tracks— the same place we’d written down our fake dating rules all those months ago. We both sat on the same side of the bench, his arm alternating between resting on my shoulders, on my thigh, holding my hand when it was free and playing with my hair. 

‘I talked to Chris in second period, she said she’d cover for me this weekend.’ I told him, excitement filling my expression.

‘That’s great!’ He shared my enthusiasm, his wide, contagious grin lighting his face.

‘I know, we just need to work out the finer details but otherwise we’re good to go.’ My head rested on his shoulder, my packed lunch finished at that point.

‘If you pack a bag we can store it in my Jeep and we can leave straight from school on Friday.’ He suggested, his hand stroking my hair, his other entwined with my fingers.

‘Sounds perfect.’ And it did. Peter and I had never been truly alone to the point of no possible interruptions. We were alone in that moment, but it was only a matter of time before the bell rang and we were flooded with students headed to their next class. Our bubble never remained un-penetrated for long.

‘I want us to have sex on the trip.’ I said and immediately felt my teeth dig into my lower lip as if to reprimand me for my outburst.

You see, I didn’t have a filter around Peter, which I valued most of the time, it allowed for effective communication and it reflected how comfortable I was around him, to voice my thoughts without worrying about judgement. So despite the initial wave of embarrassment that flooded me following my declaration, I refused to let myself linger on it, knowing with Peter I always had a safe space to talk about anything, including my desire to lose my virginity. 

I lifted my head from his shoulder to look at his expression, realising he hadn’t spoken for at least a minute. The surprise and shock on his face was to be expected, but I was a little worried that he seemed to be... frozen.

‘Peter?’ I murmured, my index finger gently tapping his forehead.

He blinked, his hazel eyes moving to mine and he shook his head as if to clear it, most likely realising my concern was due to his lack of an answer.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked, my voice timid. Did he not want to take this step? Had he frozen because he was thinking of a way to let me down easily? ‘Pete, if you don’t think we’re ready for this then tell me, both of our feelings are important here.’

His eyes softened and he placed a kiss on my forehead, ‘I know that, honey. I was just surprised, I guess I wasn’t expecting it. That’s all. The way I reacted wasn’t because I don’t want to be with you that way, because I do. I just want you to be sure you’re not rushing into this because of me.’ His hazel eyes searched mine, and I kept eye contact when I spoke, wanting him to see my complete sincerity.

‘I’ve been thinking about this for weeks, Pete. I love you, you love me, and I trust you to take care of me.’ My hands went to either side of his face, ‘I’m sure.’ 

His hand gripped my right, lifting it and turning it over so he could kiss my palm. 

‘Okay, in that case I’ll make sure we have protection for the weekend.’ He assured me, his thumb tracing over my cheekbone as I flushed, ‘and in the meantime, if you have any second thoughts and you change your mind then let me know. There’s no pressure, I’m happy to spend the weekend with you, with our without sex, okay?’

I was so soft in that moment you could have spread me on bread, ‘okay.’ 

I knew I wouldn’t change my mind, and the very fact he made sure to assure me that it would be okay that I did, only solidified my choice even further. I loved him, trusted him and he was without a doubt the one I wanted to take this step with.

//

A few days later after Peter had dropped me off at home, my dad handed me a letter, and as soon as I saw the return name and address, my stomach dropped. 

The letters had gotten out months ago, and when I’d not heard anything from John Ambrose, I assumed his had got lost in the mail, or he’d read it been confused and creeped out and thrown it away. But the letter I was holding proved both of those theories wrong.

I took a breath and opened it, hoping to god it was a polite brush off and he wasn’t writing to tell me that I was a creepy weirdo.

Dear Y/N,

I couldn't believe when I opened that letter and it was from you. Wow. It's been, what, five years since we've seen each other? Not that I'm mad or anything. I was so happy to get it. I can't believe how mature you were at 11. God, when I was 11, my mom was still putting out snacks for me after school, but here you were with all these complex thoughts and emotions.

It's crazy.

Reading it reminded me of that time that we both got locked out after school. Remember that? We went to the Robertson's treehouse and read Harry Potter until it got dark. If I'd written you a love letter back then, I'm pretty sure it would've just said something like, um, "I liked reading with you. You're really pretty." But your letter was so much more than that. I just have one question: Why send it now?

Whatever the reason, I'm really glad I got to read it.

Yours, John Ambrose.

Okay, just a polite brush off like I was hoping, nothing to worry about. I headed up to my room, tossed my back pack onto my bed and sat at my desk. He deserved an explanation and maybe then this whole thing could just go away for good. I pulled out some stationary and started writing.

Dear John Ambrose,

I have to say your response surprised me, the letters got out almost six months ago, I’d assumed yours got lost in the mail or that you threw it away. Either way, you’re right and you do deserve an explanation. I went through a stage of writing letters whenever I got a crush so intense I didn’t know what to do about it. In total there were five, one to you, a guy from camp, Lucas from school, Josh from next door and Peter Kavinsky. My sister, Kitty, thought it would be a good idea to send them out and possibly get me out of my shell, which is why you received it now when I wrote it years ago. It actually worked, and Peter and I started dating, we’re still together now and honestly I’m kinda grateful to my sister for sending out the letters, because it never would have happened without it. 

It was nice to hear from you, John Ambrose, I wish you all the best for the future.

Y/N.

There. All done, all finished. I placed it into an envelope, wrote the name and address on the front, and added the stamp. I didn’t seal it though. I’d never had a boyfriend, but I was pretty sure if I found out that a guy Peter used to like had written him a letter, I’d want to know about it. 

I pulled my phone out of the back pocket of my high-waisted jeans and texted him— I knew he was probably out running like he did every day after school, so I didn’t want to disrupt him with a phone call.

Hey honey, can you come over tonight? There’s something I wanna talk to you about. It’s nothing bad, I promise.

Once that was sent, I headed to the shower and after that kept myself busy with homework. I was so deep in concentration that I jumped when someone knocked on the front door— the headache that my trig homework had given me didn’t help. I looked up from where I was sitting at the dining room table and headed over to answer it— Kitty was at a friends house and my dad was still at work, one of his patients had gone into labour an hour ago.

A bright smile broke across my face when I saw who it was, and I abandoned a verbal greeting in favour of wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my head in his chest. He smelled of peppermint from his body wash, and a hint of vanilla from his shampoo. I could feel that his hair was still wet, so he must have showered after his run and come over straight away. 

‘Hey honey,’ he murmured, kissing my hair, ‘everything okay?’

‘Fine, just something I thought you should know about.’ I told him, reluctant to pull away from his hold— I was feeling extra clingy tonight for whatever reason, and he must have realised it too, because he scooped me up. My legs wound around his waist and my face moved to the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply as a contented feeling wrapped around me like a warm blanket on a rainy day.  

‘Where to?’ He asked, his voice soft. I vaguely registered the sound of the front door closing as he kicked it shut.

‘My room.’ I replied, trying to keep myself from falling asleep. I loved how safe I felt in his arms.

He carried me up with no problem and paused at my desk so I could grab both letters, and then moved to the centre of my bed, positioning me so I was comfortable curled up on his chest.

‘Now what did you need me to come over for, honey? Not that I’m complaining if you just called me over for some cuddles.’ He chuckled, kissing my forehead.

‘You remember the letters I wrote?’ I mumbled against the fabric of his shirt.

‘Yeah, one to me, some guy from UN, someone from camp, Josh and Lucas.’ His hand trailed up and down my back comfortingly.

‘Well, the guy from UN was John Ambrose McClaren.’ I said, too calm to be worried about his reaction.

‘No shit. McClaren? That was my boy.’ He grinned.

‘Well, he wrote me back.’ I handed him one of the letters in my hand and patiently waited as he read it.

‘He sounds pretty cool about it.’ He said once he was finished, placing it to the side and linking his fingers with my free hand, ‘are you gonna write him back?’

‘I’ve already written the letter, I figured he deserved an explanation as to why he received a love letter I wrote five years ago out of the blue.’ I held up the response in my free hand, ‘that’s why I called you over, I figured if this was the other way around then I’d wanna know about it, right?’

His eyes softened, his free hand gently moving through my hair, ‘right. So do you want me to read your response?’

I nodded, handing him the letter. I knew if I told him no that he would respect that, but I had no problems with him reading it. I had no feelings for John Ambrose anymore, they’d flickered out years ago, and I didn’t want Peter wondering if me keeping the letter from him was because those feelings still lingered. He finished it pretty quickly, kissed my forehead and asked me if I wanted to watch a movie. I didn’t particularly; I was so close to sleep that I didn’t think I’d last five minutes, but if it meant he’d stay and hold me for a few more hours I was all for it. I hummed in agreement and he turned on my TV and selected something, I couldn’t tell you what it was if my life depended on it. I was asleep within minutes.

//

‘Please chose your volunteer post wisely. You will be representing Adler at your chosen post.’ Principal Stevens reminded everyone in the cafeteria, that had temporarily turned into a volunteer centre with different booths scattered around.

I was looking around for the Bellevue booth when I was startled by warm hands wrapping around my waist.

‘Hey honey.’ He murmured into my neck, his warm breath made me shiver against him, I could feel his smirk before he continued, ‘you found the Bellevue booth yet?’

‘Nah, I just got here.’ I turned, my arms wrapping around his neck, his forehead resting against mine, ‘you and the boys signed up for Oakwood Market?’

‘Um—.’ He was cut off from Trevor appearing behind him and playfully slapping his shoulders.

‘Yo, K! What’s up big boy?’ He exclaimed. Peter shook his head with a chuckle and pulled me closer to him as he turned to give his friend a nod.

‘What’s up, Y/N?’ Trevor smiled.

‘Hey, Trevor.’ I returned his smile, my gaze returning to Peter quickly.

‘Yo, bro, so check it out. We already snagged six spots at Oakwood Market. Everybody's in, done deal.’ Trevor grinned, ruffling Peter’s hair in his excitement.

‘That’s great man.’ Pete smiled, removing a hand from my waist to playfully shove him, ‘sign me up will you? I’m gonna find the Bellevue booth with Y/N.’

He didn’t give him a chance to respond, his hand sliding around my waist and walking us in the direction of the booth I needed.

‘You don’t have to come with me you know,’ I told him a soft, amused smile on my lips, ‘just because we’re dating it doesn’t mean your friends aren’t a priority too.’

‘I know that.’ He held me closer and his next words were so quiet that I had to strain my hearing to catch them, ‘I’m feeling a little clingy today, honey.’

I was a little surprised; usually it was the other way around, but I didn’t comment, I just held him tighter against my side and reached over for his free hand and kissed his palm. If this is what he needed, I was more than happy to help ease him in anyway I could. He kissed the top of my head and when we reached the booth he moved behind me, his hands on my waist and his chin resting on my shoulder so we were cheek to cheek.

I wrote my name on the sheet, noting that I was the only one and turned to kiss Peter’s cheek when I was done. Before we could leave, Gen cornered us.

‘Of course you would do Bellevue.’ She snorted, ‘you’re so predictable, Y/N.’

‘I know right?’ I smiled sweetly, unable to help rolling my eyes. Honestly, how she hadn’t moved on by now and gotten tired of giving us a hard time I didn’t know.

‘I saw your story this weekend, Peter.’ She rolled her eyes and shot me a smug look, ‘Cordona’s? Classic Kavinsky. A little tip, Y/N, if you wanna fit into your jeans come summer, you should start ordering a salad.’

‘Just stop it Gen.’ Peter said, his voice sounded tired and lacking of patience and she must have noticed it too because she started, her expression becoming vulnerable for a split second before the mean facade was back in place, ‘that’s my favourite restaurant, and Y/N loves Italian, of course I took her there. Just because we dated it doesn’t mean that all of those places are off limits for us now. Grow up and stop being so childish.’

She rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was well and truly berated as she left without so much as a ‘whatever’ thrown over her shoulder.

I turned around in his arms, noting the way his shoulders were slumped, and his hazel eyes weren’t as bright as they usually were.

‘Well, we’re officially signed up for our volunteer programmes, you wanna get lunch off campus? My treat for all the running coach’ll make you do later.’ My hands gently moved through his thick brown locks as I talked. 

‘I’d love that. I’m craving pizza.’ He squeezed my hand as we headed for his car, I took the keys and drove us to Cordona’s and got us a large half pepperoni and half cheese for us to share. 

We stopped at the lake we’d paused at almost a week ago to eat, there were more cars, but no people; they were probably hiking around the water. I shifted onto Pete’s lap, the pizza laying open on the drivers seat, making it easy for us to reach over when we wanted a slice. We didn’t talk much as we ate, occasionally he’d offer me a bite of his pizza and I’d do the same to him, both of us trading gentle smiles and chaste kisses before we continued eating. It was peaceful being encased in our bubble, and I hoped that the atmosphere was as calming for him as it was for me. By the time the pizza was gone, we still had over half an hour before we had to be back to school, and it was only a ten minute drive. I tossed the left over crust into the pizza box and shook my head when Pete offered me some of the last slice. 

My hand moved through his hair, noting the way his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into my touch as he swallowed the last of his pizza. 

‘You feeling better, honey?’ It was the first words I’d spoken in a while, and I was pleased that the peaceful bubble around us didn’t pop at the disruption. 

‘Loads, thank you for this Y/N.’ He kissed my forehead.

‘You don’t have to thank me, Pete. I told you, I’m here for you, always.’ I kissed his nose, chuckling at the way his nose wrinkled and a grin lit up his face.

My amusement faded abruptly when hands gently rested on either side of my face and bought my lips to his. He tasted of cheese, pepperoni and a hint of mint from the gum he’d been chewing before. His lips were soft and when his tongue slipped into my mouth again, I felt myself melt into him with a shudder. His hands glided down to my waist, pulling me closer to him and I briefly wondered when I’d turned to straddle him, but honestly in that moment I didn’t care. My fingers tugged at his hair and he groaned against my lips to kiss along the column of my throat, to behind my ear, his lips zeroing in on a sensitive spot that I didn’t know existed. I moaned his name, my hips involuntarily moving against his, allowing me to feel that he wanted me just as much as I did him. His hand slid underneath my jumper, and when he felt that I wasn’t wearing a bra underneath he groaned as his hand cupped my breast, his thumb moving back and forth across my nipple and creating little zings of electricity that seemed connected to my core somehow.

I moaned his name again and he bought his lips to mine, his tongue moving in that slowly seductive way again, and I swear I felt myself flush with so much warmth and arousal I wouldn’t have been surprised if I caught on fire. I was so lost in the heat that I didn’t notice his other hand sliding underneath my skirt until his fingers pressed against my core, causing my hips to jolt into his hand. I pulled away from the kiss, needing to breathe and unable to concentrate on anything but the pleasure that was travelling through my body. My head fell to his shoulder and his fingers moved quicker against my clit, seeming to find that spot that made me see stars without even trying. My release came over me so suddenly that I bit down on Peter’s shoulder without thinking, concerned that my volume would be too loud without me tampering down my moans somehow.

By the time I came back around, Peter was stroking my hair, while his other hand gripped my waist gently. 

‘I can’t feel my legs.’ I spoke into his neck, smiling at the sound of his chuckle.

‘It’s okay honey, I can drive us back.’ He kissed my hair.

‘What about you?’ I frowned, not liking the idea of leaving him in need of release; and I knew he was, I could feel it against my hip.

‘Don’t worry about that, you can make it up to me when you have the energy.’ He said, his voice rife with amusement and a little pride.

‘Okay,’ I murmured, appeased.

We stayed there for a few more minutes, until we were in danger of being late if we waited any longer. He placed me in the passenger seat where I curled into a ball, having not got my energy back yet, and he closed the pizza box and placed it into the foot space I wasn’t currently using. My hand was entwined with his left as he drove us back, and I was on the precipice of consciousness and unconsciousness when he leaned over to kiss my forehead to tell me we had arrived. My eyes fluttered open and I practically jumped into Peter’s arms when he came around to open my door for me. He chuckled, holding me close for a moment before his arm slid around my waist so we could walk into the school. I idly wondered if I’d get away with taking a nap in history as we parted ways at the doors with a kiss.

//

The next day passed in a blur and before I knew it, we were heading on our camping trip. I’d tossed my school bag onto the back seat, kicked off my ballet flats and pulled my hair from my hair tie to make myself more comfortable for the drive. Peter and I were both positively beaming with excitement, happily singing along to the road trip playlist he’d made for us. It made my heart warm when he’d bashfully announced that he’d done that, he’d gone out of his way to put together a bunch of songs he knew I liked. It was the little things like that, that made me wonder what I’d done right to deserve someone as wonderful as Peter.

When we arrived, Peter and I wasted no time in putting up the tent. Well, Pete told me what to do and followed his instructions as best as I could— I’d never been camping before so putting a tent together was completely fresh territory for me. But he told me I’d done a good job and I kissed him for saying that, even though we both knew it wasn’t true.

‘I love it out here.’ I told him much later, when the sun had set and we could actually see the stars shining above us now we were out of the city. 

‘Me too, I forgot just how much.’ He admitted, his arm around my shoulders as I melted into his side.

‘How come you haven’t been back in so long?’

‘Me and my brother used to come out here with my dad, and for the longest time it was another reminder of the fact he was gone.’ He said, his voice taking on the melancholy that usually followed talking about his father.

‘I get that, it was the same for me after my mom died.’ I offered him a sad smile when he met my eye, ‘but eventually I realised, the memories didn’t have to make me sad, they could be a reminder of the happy times we all shared as a family.’

‘You’re so wise for a sixteen year old, Y/N.’ He smiled softly, his hand caressing the side of my face, his smile grew when I leaned into his touch, ‘thank you for sharing that with me, it helps, more than you know.’

‘I love you, Pete.’ 

His eyes softened completely, ‘I love you too, Y/N.’ 

The next few days were complete and utter bliss. Spending time with one of my favourite people, just us, no interruptions was incredible. We hiked, swam, danced in the random rainfall, cuddled at night to keep warm, watched the sunrise and set, and lay for hours under the stars talking about anything and everything. Not once did he bring up my earlier expressed desire to lose my virginity during this trip, and I knew it was because he was giving me the room I needed to change my mind, no questions asked. The truth was, I hadn’t changed my mind, but it took me a few days to work up my nerve to broach the subject again. I knew we’d already been intimate to an extent, but it took me some time to assure myself that Peter loved me, and that he wouldn't be disgusted with my naked appearance. It was Sunday night, we’d be getting up early to drive straight to school in the morning, and I finally gathered my nerve. 

‘Pete?’ I murmured to him; we’d eaten some dinner an hour ago and we were currently laying in each others arms underneath the stars.

‘Hmm?’ 

‘Did you bring any protection?’ I felt him stiffen underneath me before he relaxed.

‘I did.’ He confirmed, ‘but if you’ve changed your mind then that’s completely okay.’

‘I know, but I didn’t,’ I leaned up, resting on my elbow to look him in the eye, ‘I just needed a little time to gather my nerve.’ 

‘You don’t need to be nervous, honey, if you want to do this I’ll take care of you.’ His hazel eyes shone of nothing but sincerity. 

‘I want to do this Peter, please.’ I murmured, my fingers gently trailing over the side of his face. 

That was how we found ourselves in the zipped up tent, both of us completely naked and Peter kissing his way down my stomach. My hand tangled in his hair as his mouth latched onto my clit, my hips would have buckled into his face if he didn’t have a hand on my waist, securely holding me down. His other hand had moved lower, his finger moving inside of me and curling to find the spot that had taken me months to find without effort. I moaned, completely overwhelmed with the pleasure he was giving me in that moment. His mouth was sucking on the perfect spot, his tongue moving over that bundle of nerves, while he added another finger inside of me, rubbing—fuck—yes right there— I was going to explode, I was sure of it. As the pure unadulterated continued to build I didn’t recognise my own voice as I alternated between moaning, screaming his name and whimpering. Eventually, and yet all too soon, the knot in my stomach came undone as my release overcame me, my vision whitened and when I came around, I was surprised to see that my body was still in one piece. 

Pete was hovering over me, his eyes soft and aroused as he observed me. I felt myself flush and his thumb gently followed the redness as it covered my cheeks.

‘You’re so beautiful, Y/N.’ He whispered, his lips capturing mine in a gentle kiss that made my heart melt inside my chest. 

He leaned back after a moment, pulling a condom from his wallet and sliding it down his erection. When he noticed me biting my lip, concerned how he was going to fit inside of me, he kissed my forehead reassuringly and lined himself up with my entrance. He pushed in with one slow, smooth movement, once he was fully encased inside me, he stopped, his face turned into the side of my neck. He kissed me there, and I was grateful for the distraction from the pain, it made waiting for it to pass much easier as his lips found that spot behind my ear again. 

‘You’re doing amazingly, honey.’ He murmured against my skin, his warm breath making me shiver in the best way.

When the pain subsided I told Peter to move, and he did, starting with soft, shallow thrusts that became deeper and harder as we progressed. When he lifted my right thigh and wound it around his waist, and managed to find a spot that had me seeing stars with every thrust, I was pretty sure I moaned ridiculously loud but I was far too lost in the moment to know for sure. I was lost in him again, his scent, his breath coming fast and heavy against my neck, his lips and the kisses he was placing where he could reach, his hand where he was gripping my leg while the other rested on the ground behind my head to give him balance, his shaft and the way it moved in and out of me as if he was made to fit inside me. I was overwhelmed by him, just as I was every time we became intimate and I found myself hoping, in the back of my aroused mind that was overrun with pleasure, that it would never be any other way. 

When I reached my release, Peter wasn’t very far behind me, shouting my name into my neck. Once we were both finished, his arms wrapped around my waist and he flipped us over so I was laying on top of him. His fingers trailed over my bare back and it was honestly so soothing, I found myself falling asleep right there, peacefully in his arms.

//

‘This is gonna be wild.’ Peter grinned, his hand entwined with mine, while me other was holding the cupcakes I’d made on my lap, along with the pizzas Pete had picked up on his way over.

‘You think?’ I said, amused, ‘we’re digging up a time capsule and eating pizza with cupcakes, i’m not sure that’s the common definition of “wild.”’ 

He laughed, ‘I know that, Covey. I mean having the old gang meeting up again, seeing my boy, it’s gonna be crazy.’ 

It was true, the old gang was me, Peter, John Ambrose, Trevor, Chris and Genevieve. We were all meeting up to dig up the time capsule we’d buried underneath the Robertson’s treehouse because the new owners were going to cut it down. If I was honest I was a little nervous about it; Gen and I didn’t get along, so I could only imagine the snide comments we were going to get, and things between John Ambrose and I since we’d been volunteering together at Bellevue had been awkward. He’d gotten the letter I’d sent back to him, and he was constantly asking how things were between Peter and I. Whenever I told him things were great, he’d get a disappointed look on his face before he forced a smile that fooled no one. I’d told Peter about it, but he assured me that if he had any doubts about our relationship then that was his problem, not ours. And he was right. 

‘It’s going to be weird having us all together again.’ I agreed, kissing the back of his hand and returning his smile, though mine wasn’t as big, it was still genuine.

John Ambrose was stood at the foot of the tree house, his hands tucked in his jeans as we approached. Peter had insisted on carrying the pizza and the cupcakes so I had my arm wrapped in his back pocket as we walked, slightly amused at the irony of the move. 

‘Well, well, well if it isn’t Johnny McClaren!’ Peter grinned.

‘Peter Kavinsky.’ He returned, a little less enthusiastically. 

‘Anyone else here yet?’ I asked, hoping to diffuse the sudden tension, and I was grateful to hear Trevor’s booming voice approaching us.

‘Yo! You guys order some za’?’ He clapped his hands twice, ‘yo, I’m so hungry.’ And when he saw John he grinned walking over to him, clasping his hand and slapping him on the back, ‘John! I can’t believe you came it’s been so long!’

‘I know, I’m glad we could all meet up.’ He smiled, looking towards the boxes in Peter’s hands and asking, ‘What kind did you get?’

‘One pepperoni and one cheese.’ Peter answered, turning to smile at me, ‘and Y/N made us some salted caramel cupcakes for afterwards.’

‘Pizza and cupcakes? We should do this every week.’ Trevor cheered, making us all laugh in amusement.

‘So are we’re just waiting on Peter and Gen.’ I mused, hoping my anxiety dissipated soon.

‘I’m here, it was so generous of you to offer me an invitation, Y/N.’ Gen said, her voice snarky.

‘I know.’ I sighed, honestly not in the mood for her snippiness. 

Thankfully before she could retort, Chris joined us, shovel in hand and a smile on her face. I tuned the conversation out and offered to go and set up the food while she and the others located the time capsule. Peter came with me, handing me the boxes up through the hatch before joining me inside. 

We placed mats in a circle for everyone to sit on, so it would be more comfortable. I ended up sitting in between Peter’s legs, his back leaning on the wall behind him while we waited for everyone else.

‘Is there a lot of tension between people or is it just me?’ I asked, needing to know if I was imagining it.

‘There was some between me and McClaren, and some between us and Gen.’ he confirmed, his hands entwining with mine.

‘I hate it, it makes me nervous.’ I admitted, turning to meet his eyes.

‘I know, but sometimes it can’t be helped. I mean when another guy is clearly into my girlfriend it paves the way for tension.’ He shrugged.

‘It doesn’t have to, Pete. I love you, any feelings I may have had for him fizzled out years ago.’ I assured him.

‘I know,’ he kissed my forehead, ‘jealousy is an irrational feeling but that doesn’t make banishing it any easier.’

I knew what he meant, I still felt jealous of Gen occasionally, but I reminded myself that Peter wanted me, not her and we were happy together. I turned around again, settling back between his legs, my back against his chest and his arms around my waist. That was how the others found us when they ventured up, and other than a disappointed look from John Ambrose and a disgusted one from Gen, no one else batted an eye. We all ate, the others sharing random conversation, but I was content to sit back and observe rather than participate. Pete and John Ambrose didn’t speak directly and when I didn’t respond to the snide comments she was making, Gen settled into conversation with the others. While he was eating, Pete’s hand remained on my waist, his thumb moving back and forth over my hipbone in a comforting gesture that had me melting even further into him. 

Once the food was finished, Chris cracked open the time capsule, pulling out a familiar bracelet that she threw in my direction when I said it was mine.

‘It’s a friendship bracelet that Gen made for me, back when we were friends.’ I admitted, tucking it into the pocket of my jeans with a smile— she may have hated me now, but the bracelet had some good memories of our friendship when we were kids.

Trevor pulled out the next object, ‘baseball!’

‘I’m guessing you put that in?’ John Ambrose laughed.

Peter held up a hand, catching it effortlessly, ‘Yeah, that was me. This is when I hit a home run at Claremont Park.’

‘Wait I remember that! You came running off the field and kissed me in front of your mom, do you remember that?’ Gen asked with a smug smile on her face.

Chris and I shared a look, rolling our eyes simultaneously as Peter said, ‘yeah I remember, it was years ago.’

He pocketed the baseball and entwined his hand with mine. I squeezed his hand once to let him know that I wasn’t mad, if anything at this point I felt bad for Gen— to constantly bring up past moments in a relationship with her ex wasn’t healthy and I didn’t know why she was doing it. Surely it couldn’t have been making her feel good? I’d be heartbroken if Pete and I broke up and bringing up our special moments would only make the pain that much more intense.

‘Alright.’ John reached in and pulled out a piece of paper.

‘Ah, that’s mine!’ Trevor reached over taking it and looking it over with a nostalgic eye, ‘Ah, yes, the Linkin Park concert at the Crystal Ballroom.’

‘Linkin Park?’ Chris scoffed, ‘nerd.’

‘What?’ Trevor sounded outraged, ‘Linkin slaps!’

‘Okay...’ Peter held the time capsule so I could reach in and pull out the next thing, which was a cap. 

I held it up and Pete handed it to John Ambrose, clearly knowing it was his, ‘Hey, McClaren, remember this? This is when you hopped on the bandwagon, and wore this hat every single day.’ 

‘Oh my god,’ John shook his head, clearly remembering giving in to the trend.

‘Wait, Y/N didn't you get a Seahawks T-shirt 'cause you were trying to impress John?’ She smiled, but there was nothing sweet about it.

‘If I did, I don’t remember.’ I answered honestly.

‘If you did, that’s really cute.’ John Ambrose smiled, and it wasn’t creepily but I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with the comment anyway. 

Peter must have felt it because he lifted the hand he was still holding to his lips and kissed the back of it before our entwined hands settled back on my hip. He reached into the capsule beside us and pulled out an envelope. 

‘This says “to the future Chris”’ he handed it to her and we all watched, amused as she pulled out $20 and tucked it into her bra.

‘You okay?’ Pete murmured into my ear, his head resting on my shoulder.

‘I am,’ I smiled, turning to kiss his cheek and settling even further into his arms.

‘Okay, you’re next.’ Chris said, gesturing to Gen.

‘Um well it’s empty.’ She crossed her arms over her chest, as if she were accusing us for being at fault for it.

‘That’s impossible.’ Chris scoffed, ‘you put something in there. We all did.’

Gen rolled her eyes, ‘well I don’t know what to tell you, because there’s nothing in there.’ 

I sighed, glancing down to the pizza box beside us and noting the last slice, ‘does anyone want the last slice?’

Peter’s hand swooped in and took it and I shook my head in amusement when he offered me a bite before he ate it. 

‘Well I never thought I’d see the day— Kavinsky sharing his food, must be true love.’ Trevor teased, ducking to avoid Chris shoving him.

‘Must be.’ Pete agreed, barely loud enough for me to hear. We shared a soft look and he kissed my forehead and finished his slice of pizza. 

As I sat there in the arms of the boy I loved, I couldn’t help but once again thank whatever God, whatever deity had blessed me with Peter Kavinsky. Because I honestly didn’t know what I would do without him in my life; he made me whole in a way I didn’t realise I needed before we dated. I’d forever be grateful for him, and I’d never take our relationship for granted, because this was the kind of love they wrote movies about. I was sure of it.

A/N: I’ve had this one gaining traction in my documents for a few weeks. I started writing it a few weeks ago after I watched the sequel to To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before on Netflix, and I only got a thousand words in before I lost motivation for it. I recently picked it back up a few days ago and here we are 9,000+ words later! I hope ya’ll liked it, I’ve added some smut in for the first time in forever, forgive me if it sucks, I’m a bit rusty! 

[onebizarrekai]

Meme Waker: That Final Thing

okay aight here we go here’s the big idea compilation you’ve all been waiting for or something like that

since I’ve finally accepted meme waker’s inevitable fate, I’ll share what I’ve had laying around about it. prepare yourself for a wild ride.

first of all, what existed of the planned character key:

Nightmare = Link Dream = Aryll Cross = Tetra Ink = The Entire Pirate Crew Granny Gertrude = Grandma Horror = Quill Killer = Medli Color = Komali Dust = Makar XGaster = Tingle (yes, you read that right) Fresh = Fado (?) Geno = Laruto Blueberry = Niko Error = Ganondorf Giant Flying Chicken = Helmaroc King Core Frisk = The King XChara = Zelda

So XChara was going to fill the role of Zelda–basically, what was going to happen was that when Cross and Nightmare reached sunken Hyrule, which was replaced by the Omega Timeline, they encountered Core Frisk and with their magical Core Frisk powers that apparently exist, separated XChara from Cross’s body. Because Error was hunting him down for whatever villainous reasons (I dunno, maybe he wanted to find Overwrite or something), XChara was going to spend the near remainder of the comic hiding in the Omega Timeline from Error. It was a pretty neat reference to the fact that Error doesn’t know where the OT is.

Unsurprisingly, considering when I was working on this, Nightmare and Cross may have eventually started dating. They were going to kiss during a fight that involved them accidentally rolling down a hill and then likely spend the remainder of the comic referring to each other as boyfriends, with no further indication of romance between them. I never really mentally decided whether I was actually going to incorporate this or not.

In moments where someone needed to present a musical instrument, Cross was going to play a keytar.

There is a very high chance that the entire comic was going to end up being an elaborate prank set up by Ink and Error.

After being rescued from the Forsaken Fortress, Dream was going to get crossbows and… I dunno, maybe be useful with them sometimes. One consideration was that he was going to complain about being stuck in a glorified retirement home and request joining the party.

Nightmare was going to have a fake ID with the name “Nathaniel Meyer” on it.

When Nightmare eventually pulled up the Gaster Sword, he was basically going to do a magical girl transformation and get a new outfit. I was considering holding a contest where people would submit new designs for Nightmare before I realized that I may have wanted to do it myself. Meanwhile, Cross’s design change at the same time was going to pertain to the fact that he had such a hard time with his uniform that he just wanted to start wearing normal clothes.

When XChara was separated from Cross, it would indicate that Cross can’t use the hack knife anymore, so I had to think of a new weapon for him. I considered giving him arm mounts with knives in them for no reason other than being extra, but I was probably just going to end up going with a regular sword.

Nightmare and Cross were going to be mistaken for missionaries at some point due to Nightmare introducing Cross as his ‘companion’.

Nightmare’s fake ID is actually a driver’s license. Cross questions how he could get one when he’s only fifteen, and Nightmare responds with “what can I say? I live in the country.”

The Giant Flying Chicken was going to evolve into the Cyborg Giant Flying Chicken before Nightmare and Cross fought it. It was already a robot, but someone decided it would be fun to make it look more robotic for some reason. Maybe too many people tried to eat it.

Because Blueberry was going to replace Niko, that meant there was going to be a form of challenge that he would present to Nightmare and/or Cross. They were probably just going to play Dance Dance Revolution.

The dress that Granny Gertrude gave Nightmare was actually going to be infused with magical powers. Either Nightmare could only access the power of the Triforce when he’s wearing the dress, or it was going to be a piece of equipment that turned his sword into a fire sword.

Nightmare was going to come back to the Village of Old People to see that his grandmother had conquered it with capitalism.

Dragon Roost Cavern was going to be replaced with a Pokemon gym.

When Nightmare supposedly kicked Error’s ass at the end of the story, he was going to say something along the lines of “Because fuck you!” and it would be the first and only f-bomb in the whole comic. Nightmare would proceed to say that it was the first time he’d ever said fuck and that he felt dirty.

The Triforce of Courage was just going to be called the Triforce of Porridge for exactly zero reason.

Some incarnation of Buffmare was going to exist in the comic, but only in a sequence taking place in Nightmare’s imagination.

When Cross realized his backpack was missing, it was because I realized his backpack was missing. I forgot to draw it. I decided that the backpack actually fused with him to create a Zelda-style magic pocket.

Nightmare was going to try to control a seagull with the command melody, but he was accidentally going to start controlling Cross instead and make him run into a tree.

The Tree Spirit was going to hold official interviews for placeholder guardians in Dream and Nightmare’s absence. These placeholder guardians were going to be Neil, the overenthusiastic French furry, and Ccino, the local emo kid who is absolutely done with everyone’s bullshit, and exclusively because they were the only ones who applied for the job. Neil was going to have an ulterior motive of becoming Gaston’s successor.

Neil and Ccino were eventually going to ‘get together’, if you can even call it that, and for no other reason than shitpost reasons.

Nightmare may have had a showdown with the Giant Flying Chicken while riding the Great Charizard from Dragon Roost.

Another possible concept for whole story was that it was a bad self insert fic written by a younger version of Nightmare, but it’s really unlikely that I would’ve gone through with that.

Nightmare and Cross may have needed to go on a fetch quest to find Ink’s brush in the ocean because they accidentally lost it, but honestly that would’ve served nothing for the progression of the story. Because XGaster put a tracker on Ink’s brush, they were going to have to enlist his help.

and that about wraps up my notes, now let me throw what I had sitting around of a script draft–reading this was a trip because I forgot that literally 60% of it existed:

(inside the mountain)

Cross: holy shoe, EVERYONE has wings? how is this a thing??

Cross: I’m frickin jealous

Chief: Oh. You must be. Those guys.

Horror: yeah man, I enlisted their help to capture the Chicken Terror, but then they were all like yo, it’s a robot!


Chief: horror robot or not I told you that we weren’t going to capture the chicken terror for food because we’re not cannibals we don’t eat birds

Horror: but

Horror: we’re hardly even birds!

Chief: you know your job Horror. now get back to work. your actual work.

Horror: But… being the mailman sucks!


Chief: Do I need to confiscate your axe again?


Horror: OKAY FINE. I’M GOING. (flies away in a huff)

Chief: AND DO YOUR GODFORSAKEN LAUNDRY!

Chief: I apologize for that… so, how can I help you two today?


Nightmare: You guys have like, some pearl thing or something? We need to like, collect three of them in order to… save the multiverse… or something like that.

(Camera dramatically darkens.)

Chief: It’s just as the prophecy foretold…

Nightmare: oh god what

Chief: You see, young whippersnappers… legend tells of a great hero that would rise up and save a bunch of people in times of desperation that they don’t even realize are desperate. the great hero would travel far and wide in search of the Pearls of Shiny to finally retrieve a great weapon that he would use to strike down the evil that few knew existed. also the hero would have a sidekick wearing stupid clothes.

Cross: EXCUSE ME

Chief: THAT’S JUST WHAT THE PROPHECY SAID

Nightmare: okay, y’know, I’m just gonna roll with it. where can I get the pearl?

Chief: Well… that’s where the hard part comes in. You see, the pearl belongs to my son… but he’s been acting like an edgy teenager lately.

Nightmare: Great…

Cross: Is there a reason he’s being edgy? Maybe there’s something we can do to appease his hormones.

Cross: Free food works like a charm for me.

Chief: No, it’s more complicated than that. When one of our people becomes of age, they climb to the top of Charizard Island to receive a scale from the Great Charizard that will allow them to grow wings.

Nightmare: the… great charizard.

Chief: But lately, the Great Charizard has been throwing inexplicable temper tantrums. No one can get close to him anymore. And with my son being of age, he’s decently pissed off about this.

Chief: We’re thinking that the Great Charizard is displeased about something, and it is also causing our shortage of food.

Nightmare: Wait, you worship something named after a Pokemon?


Chief: Anyway, perhaps you two will be able to talk some sense into my son. Maybe he just wants to talk to someone his age that isn’t Horror or Killer.

Nightmare: What kind of names are those?


Chief: There’s a letter that I wanted my son to read, and I’ve given it to Killer to hold onto. You can go get it from him upstairs in the first room near the stairs, just tell him I sent you. He’s the little guy in the short shorts, you’ll probably recognize him when you see him.

Nightmare: Can’t you just call him here?


Chief: No, it is of upmost importance that you experience a basic fetch quest in order to become a great hero, because those fetch quests will become needlessly complicated before you even realize it.

Nightmare: ?????

Nightmare: I can’t even tell if you’re joking or not–

Cross: dude let’s just go get the letter

(scene transition)

(Killer dramatically turns around and it zooms in and says his name SSB style)

Nightmare: Wait, why do you get a dramatic introduction?


Killer: Dayum. New faces.

Nightmare: Why is everyone ignoring my questions??

Killer: (needlessly sensual voice) So, what brings you here? (walking closer)


Nightmare: (backs into wall) NO BUENO

Cross: You have a letter or something?


Killer: Oh. Yeah. Chief gave it to me for some reason. Yo, catch.

(He chucks it like a ninja star. Cross catches it between his hands in front of his face.)


Killer: Ey! You actually caught it!


Cross: I’m a trained ninja.

Killer: So like, who are you guys?

Cross: I’m Cross. He’s Larry.

Nightmare: NIGHTMARE. MY NAME IS NIGHTMARE.

Killer: Aw man, I know the feel of having a really lame name and wanting one that’s cooler.

Nightmare: No. Like. My name is actually Nightmare. My senile grandma called me Larry earlier today and this loser picked up on it.

Killer: There’s no need to lie. I understand.

Nightmare: I’M NOT LYING!

Killer: anyway make sure you get that letter to Color there’s something I have to do–

(Killer zips out the door behind them.)


Cross: what even the frick?


Nightmare: that guy freaks me the frick out.

Nightmare: literally. I felt like he was coming onto me.

Cross: you’re imagining things.

(SCENE TRANSITION)
 Cross: all right Nightmare I literally do not trust your ability to communicate with another person in a way that will make them feel inclined to give us something so just let me handle this okay

Cross: okay better yet wait outside the room

(Nightmare makes a less than amused face.)


Cross: it’s for the greater good

(Cross walks into the room.)

Cross: hi my name is Cross and

Color: LEAVE

(Cross immediately exits the room.)

Cross: this is a lost causeNightmare: what

Cross: go make him bleed with your words

Nightmare: dude isn’t this the part where we give him the frickin letter

Cross: (pauses) :o

Cross: OH RIGHT

(Cross takes the letter and goes back into the room, leaving the door open)

Cross: oh yeah this letter is for you it’s from your dad or something

Color: Oh, wow. Can’t even be bothered to talk to me in person.

Color: Give me that thing.

(Color stares at the letter. It’s actually a letter from Killer filled with really bad pickup lines and other really creepy compliments.)

Color: What the hell, you said this was from my dad!

Cross: We thought it was–??

(Killer teleports in behind them, scaring the shit out of Nightmare)


Killer: Suuuup~

Color: Killer I swear to god.

Killer: Here’s the actual letter, though you might not be happy with it.

(He flings it at Color and it lands in front of him. He reads it over, rolls his eyes and throws it in the trash.)

Cross: So uh… I don’t know what the letter says but apparently we’re prophesied heroes collecting a bunch of pearls to save the multiverse and the pearl you have is–


Color: Can everyone just get out of my room already?

(everyone just leaves)

Nightmare: What even was the point of that stupid fetch quest?

Killer: Oh yeah, can you guys help me with something? Just a smalllll favor. And I can’t ask anyone else because I’m not supposed to do it.

Killer: I need some strong, reliable people…

Nightmare: Don’t touch me.

Killer: It’s just a small favor! And I mean actually small, it’ll take like two minutes.

Nightmare: I have doubts about this.

Killer: Great! Meet me out back by the spring.

Nightmare: Wait which side is the back–

(Killer is gone)

Nightmare: Cross which side is the back.

Cross: I don’t know??

(after spending twenty minutes going through the various exits trying to figure out how to get there)

Killer: What the hell took you so long.

Nightmare: Directions would’ve been helpful. There wasn’t even a freaking map anywhere in there!

Killer: The hollow is like the size of a middle class house! How difficult could it be to find out where to go?!

Nightmare: IT’S A DOME THERE IS NO BACK

Cross: OKAY, what matters is that we’re here, what the heck do we do now.

Killer: Okay, okay. (steps backwards) Look, if you look around here, it’s all a dried up spring. The Great Charizard was throwing a tantrum, a boulder fell down and it coincidentally plugged up the spring for the third time this week, which is literally our main source of fresh water. I’m honestly getting sick of this so I’m going to climb the mountain and see what’s going on because everyone else is too scared to do it.

Nightmare: God. You’re not gonna make us go with you, are you?


Killer: Oh, no way. I just need you to throw me up that cliff over there so I can get into the cavern that leads up the mountain.

Nightmare: Can’t you fly?

Killer: Not thirty feet straight up. Do these noodle arms look like they can manage that?


Nightmare: Whatever. But quick question. How the hell does one throw a person.

Killer: I weigh like fifty pounds. It shouldn’t be that hard. Also, if you’ve noticed, the wind is rapidly changing directions, so you’ll probably have the best effect throwing me when the wind is blowing that way.

Nightmare: Mhmm. Sure. Let’s just get this over with.

(Nightmare crouches down and Killer fuckin walks onto his shoulders)

Nightmare: Hey! Watch it!

(some way or another he throws Killer and Killer barely makes it to the cliff, face planting into the ground)

Nightmare: Well I guess that worked.

Killer: THAT WAS TERRIBLE!

Nightmare: YOU’RE WELCOME! COULD’VE JUST USED A DAMN LADDER!

Killer: NOBODY OWNS A LADDER HERE BECAUSE EVERYONE CAN FLY!

Nightmare: Then how the frick do people get up this cliff?!

Killer: THERE’S NORMALLY A BRIDGE BUT IT BROKE AND PROBLEMS LIKE THESE ARE PRECISELY WHY I’M CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN TO BEGIN WITH! ALSO I’M LEAVING BYE. (turns and leaves)

(cricket cricket)

Cross: Nightmare we should probably follow him.

Nightmare: No.

Cross: What else do we have to do. We solve their problem, Color can get his wings and then he stops being emo and gives us the pearl out of the goodness of his heart.

Nightmare: I’m not risking my life for this! If that guy is willing to do it himself I’m going to let him do it!

Cross: Dude, look at that guy. He looks about at capable fixing whatever the problem is as Ink is at providing emotional support. If this happens to be anything like a video game, we’re the only ones capable of solving anything. Besides, what else are we supposed to do? Hang around and wait for something to happen?

Nightmare: All right, fine. But how are we supposed to do something? It’s not like we can climb up a thirty foot cliff.

Cross: No, but we can swim, right?Nightmare: What?

(Cross draws a line around the rock covering the spring. It dematerializes into red squares and water starts to spew out of the spring. They both run back towards the side and climb up the cliff they came from)

Nightmare: Dude, what the hell was that?

Cross: I can draw lines around things with my sword and they do that and go away.

Nightmare: … do they go somewhere?


Cross: I dunno.

(Meanwhile in Xtale, a boulder slams into the floor and almost crushes Fresh because of course he’s there)

(The spring fills up)


Nightmare: You know I’m starting to have second thoughts about this swimming thing seeing as how I’ve never actually–(Cross kicks him into the water)


(LATER)


Nightmare: YOU ASSHOLE I ALMOST DROWNED

Cross: You’re exaggerating.

Random Dude: STOP RIGHT THERE!


Nightmare: who.

Random Dude: YOU AREN’T GOIN ONE STEP PAST THIS POINT! YOU’RE LIGHT YEARS FROM FACING BROCK!

(nightmare squints)

(comic suddenly goes into a battle sequence)

Nightmare: whoa whoa what the hell is happening

Cross: oh my god it’s pokemon NIGHTMARE IT’S POKEMON

Nightmare: I DON’T HAVE ANY POKEMON CROSS THREATEN HIM

(Random Dude sent out MEWTWO)

Cross: DEAR GOD

Cross: LISTEN THERE’S A HUGE MISUNDERSTANDING WE’RE NOT TRAINERS WE DON’T HAVE POKEMON

Random Dude: tHEN WHY ARE YOU IN A POKEMON GYM HUH

Cross: Uh… touring?

Random Dude: OH

Random Dude: I SEE

(The Random Dude returns his Mewtwo.)

Random Dude: THERE HAS BEEN AN UNFORTUNATE MISUNDERSTANDING

Cross: Say uh, you didn’t happen to see a scrawny dude with wings pass through here, did you?

Random Dude: Oh yeah, he went into the next room and took the elevator to the top.

(silence)


Nightmare: Why are there always elevators.

(two seconds later, they reach the elevator and there’s a dude standing in front of it)


Nightmare: um excuse me we need to use the elevator

Dude: oh man I can’t find my glasses anywhere what do I do

Nightmare: excuse me I said move

Dude: oh man I can’t find my glasses anywhere what do I do

Nightmare: HELLO

Dude: oh man I can’t find my glasses anywhere what do I do

Nightmare: MOVE ASSHOLE

Cross: I think it’s a preprogrammed NPC.

Nightmare: UAGGGGHHHHH

(Nightmare throws himself into the person, but he slams into the STEEL WALL OF NPC)

Nightmare: CROSS TELEPORT HIM AWAY

Cross: wait are you serious what if that freakin kills him I don’t know where these things go

Nightmare: YOU SAID IT YOURSELF HE’S AN NPC

(Cross shrugs. He draws a line around the NPC and the NPC disappears)

(one elevator ride later)

Nightmare: (chokes) oh god

Nightmare: the altitude

Cross: nightmare this island is still lower than ink’s house.

Nightmare: PSYCHOLOGICAL ALTITUDE

(fwip)

Cross: Oh look, it’s that guy from earlier.

Nightmare: Got captured somehow. Why am I not surprised?

Killer: YOU KNOW WHAT SCREW YOU GUYS

(A really buff guy abruptly slams into the ground)

Buff Guy: FEAR MY WRATH, FOR I AM BROCK! LEADER OF ALL THINGS ROCK HARD

Nightmare: Look man, we really don’t have time for this, just let the shota hoe go, we’re just checking up on the huge-ass Charizard up there.

Killer: excuse me

Brock: I AM THE LOYAL GUARDIAN OF THE GREAT CHARIZARD! You can only pass if you defeat me!


Cross: what the hell is even happening anymore

(Loud gym battle music as the gate at the entrance of the clearing slams shut)

Nightmare: LOOK WE’VE BEEN OVER THIS WE DON’T HAVE ANY POKEMON

(Brock war cries as he sends out a very anime geodude)

Nightmare: can someone please tell me I’m hallucinating all of this

Brock: WELL, IF YOU DON’T HAVE POKEMON, YOU’LL HAVE TO USE A RENTAL

Cross: What? But rental pokemon always suck.

Brock: YOU MUST PROVE YOUR WORTH SOMEHOW! AND BECAUSE YOU’RE SMALL CHILDREN YOU OBVIOUSLY CAN’T PROVE IT THROUGH SUMO WRESTLING.

Nightmare: I’m fifteen!

Cross: Nightmare I think you’re missing the point.

Killer: Good god, just let them through and let me out of here, they’re the heroes of prophecy.

Brock: PROPHECY

Brock: GOODNESS ME I APOLOGIZE FOR THAT

(Brock returns his geodude)

Brock: YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING

Nightmare: That would have worked?

Brock: BUT! IF YOU WANT TO FREE THIS TINY FELLOW HERE, YOU MUST COMPLETE A DIFFERENT CHALLENGE! FOR YOU SEE, HE TRIED TO PASS THROUGH HERE WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION!


(Killer rolls his eyes. Nightmare squints, literally pulling a notebook out of his shirt. He writes something in it, walking up to Brock and holding it up. It says “Let the guy out of jail you dick”)

Brock: AHA

Brock: WELL

Brock: I CAN’T ARGUE WITH THAT

(He stomps his foot on the ground and the bars in front of Killer go up)

Brock: DON’T BE CAUSING TROUBLE NOW KIDS


(He ascends back into the sky)


Cross: I’m not even going to ask. That entire conversation felt like a drug trip.

(Killer dramatically throws himself onto Nightmare)


Killer: I knew you would come around, my knight in–

Nightmare: Why did I assume that you had become any less creepy in the last ten minutes. Why did I even do that?


Killer: Because your heart told you to.

Nightmare: Dear god stop touching me or I will literally pick you up and slam you into the floor.

Killer: Feisty. Anyway, I figured out why the Great Charizard is freaking out all the time. His tail is hanging down into the room below him and something is chewing on it like all the time.

Cross: What? Then why doesn’t it just, I dunno, pull its freaking tail out of the room like a reasonable creature? Or maybe take care of the problem on its own?

Killer: The Great Charizard is like a five year-old. It’s self aware, but it expects all of its problems to be solved by everyone else and throws tantrums when that doesn’t happen.

Nightmare: Well that’s stupid. Why does everyone act like it’s some holy being then?

Killer: Because it’s a massive, terrifying dragon that can breathe fire?

ok unfortunately this is where the script ends but I hope you enjoyed that

oh yeah, and some extremely old art that I found:

as well as a brief consideration to make the characters human before deciding that I just didn’t want to work on the comic anymore.

basically you will notice that most of this doesn’t have a solid outline, and you’d be right: I never actually planned it that meticulously. I mostly just winged it and threw stuff in over the course of time and never even really planned anything close to a definitive ending beyond “maybe it was a prank”. sorry if this is like… anticlimactic, but it’s all I could find!

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 27/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Gold has a surprise for Belle.

Notes: Stupid Gold family fluff, basically. The next chapter is almost done!

[AO3]

More than a week passed, filled with heavy snows, bitterly cold winds, and too many hours indoors.

After eight days cooped up indoors, Belle was aching to breath fresh air. Fortunately, they had two days in a row of sunshine, so far, which allowed the main path through the garden to be cleared. Though it was still cold, the bright sun and the lack of wind made it more than tolerable. Bundled up in their cloaks, hoods, and gloves, she and Baeden had taken a turn through it after breakfast. Though she knew there would be at least two more months of winter, it was a welcome respite all the same to be within nature, and it reminded her that there would be much to see come the spring. She had arrived at Thornhill in the last weeks of autumn, when the majority of the garden and grounds had gone dormant, and the prospect of seeing her new home in full bloom was something she clung to when the wind howled outside her window.

Baeden kicked at a piece of loose ice with his shoe. It rolled like a misshapen rock and came to rest a few feet ahead of them, on Belle’s side of the path. She smiled to herself and when she came to it, kicked further down the way, making Bae laugh. They continued like that, back and forth, until it ricocheted off of a stone planter and shattered into many small pieces.

“Well, that was disappointing,” she said with a frown.

Beside her, Bae nodded, and then changed the subject. “Belle, if I had a horse would you want to go riding with me?”

She looked at him with a bemused smile. “Of course I would! Are you planning on getting a horse?”

“I’ll have to ask Papa,” he replied. Then he huffed a little and pulled his gloved hands from the pockets of his coat. “I’m eleven,” he continued, “I’m old enough to have a horse, and to learn to ride it properly. Don’t you think so?”

Belle bit her lip. His hands waved about as he spoke, emphasizing his words, and it was so like his father that it pulled at her heart. “I do. If you like, I can be with you when you speak to your Papa.”

Bae smiled as they rounded the path around the fountain and headed back towards the house. “Good! He’s more likely to say yes if you’re there.”

She was in agreement, partly because she loved riding so much, and was already entertaining the delightful idea of having someone to do that with her, but also because she’d had a horse since she was nine. Eleven was long passed time to have one in her mind. It occurred to her that there was no reason why she couldn’t have Philippe brought to Thornhill, though it would probably have to wait until the spring. Perhaps she could talk to Cameron about it while they were on the long carriage ride to the palace.

The palace and the New Year’s ball was something she had been trying very hard not to think about too much. Her nerves had already gotten the better of her on the subject once, and she was resolved not to let it happen again, and to keep her wits about her whilst they were there. At least she could look forward to seeing Lady Ella again, and perhaps Ariel and Eric would attend. It would be good to see familiar faces and old friends.

What might they think of her now, she wondered, married, titled, and seeped in royal politics. Well, that last part was a secret as far as she knew, and the less anyone was aware of it, the better. Still, she wondered how they all would regard her, both her friends and the royal court. Her broken engagement to Sir Gaston was widely known, as was, she presumed, her marriage to Cameron. It had been without the usual engagement period, and was a minimally attended affair, which she knew lent itself to all sorts of implications and rumors. Sadly, some of them were true.

Would they see the ruined woman they thought she was, or the one who was fighting for her place in the world, and to hold onto what was dear?

“Belle?”

Bae’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and she realized they had walked the rest of the way back to the house in companionable silence.

“I think it’s time for tea,” he added.

She smiled at him. “Yes, Bae, I think it is.” Then she leaned down and whispered, “And I think Ms. Potts has made the chocolate tarts again.”

His eyes lit up, and they both broke into wide grins. She took hold of his hand, and they took off at a light jog the rest of the way to the patio doors, laughing the whole way.

Gold felt he had never been busier than this last week.

The weather had not only caused innumerable problems with the movement of goods around the northern part of the kingdom, but a number of issues had also cropped up around the estate. The roof of one of the old out buildings had partially collapsed under the weight of all the snow, and ice had formed in between several stones on the façade of the house itself, cracking them and making them break away from the structure. One such stone resulted in a window breaking at the east end of the first floor, which was mostly servants quarters, but a missing window had led to all sorts of minor issues with cold and damp.

In the midst of it all, he’d been struck by an idea. They had been relocating some of the items from the damaged building to an unused portion of the stables, when he realized that neither he nor Belle had broached the subject of bringing her horse to Thornhill. It seemed ridiculous that they hadn’t already done so, and once he’d thought of it, he determined that it should happen before they departed for the palace. The recent change in the weather seemed to provide the perfect opportunity.

He’d written to Desmond and Maurice on Monday, and, despite the snow, received a response within two days. They were in agreement as well, and promised to send someone with Philippe as soon as the snow abated. The trip would be two fold, in that Gold had also promised to send back a number of supplies including bags of grain and flour and other staples to hopefully alleviate the struggles in Avonlea. He knew things were likely far more dire than was stated in their letters, and while that issue was something for Belle to handle directly with Desmond, he was of a mind to assist them before it reached a state of desperation. He had known what it was like to not be able to provide in the middle of a harsh winter, and he flatly refused to allow it to happen to others when he was able to do something about it.

An express letter had been sent this morning from Avonlea stating that Philippe was on his way, and Gold could hardly focus on the contracts he needed to review. He wanted it to be a surprise, something to distract Belle from their upcoming trip and its potential impact, and that would give her something to look forward to upon their return. Now that it was imminent, it seemed to be all he could think about.

Sighing, he stood up and stretched and walked over to the window at the far end of his study to look out onto the snowy landscape of the garden. Two figures came running up towards the house, their coats and cloaks fanning out behind them. He leaned forward and then broke into a wide smile when he saw it was Bae and Belle. They seemed to be laughing as they ran, and the sight filled him with a joyful warmth.

Belle was not the type of woman who let her status or title dictate how she behaved. She didn’t stand on ceremony for the sake of it, or hold herself to a different standard than she expected of others. It was perhaps the thing he most appreciated about her.

A glance at the clock showed it was time for tea, and he decided work could wait while he spent some time with his wife and son.

Belle knew her husband was up to something.

Gold had been speaking with Jefferson when she and Bae came in from their walk, barreling through the doors of the patio, rosy cheeked and shaking with laughter. Jefferson lowered his voice to finish what he was saying, and then quickly left the room. Gold , meanwhile, seemed entirely too interested in what they were having with tea, which was unusual as he typically didn’t care for sweets until after dinner.

She let the matter go, but then Jefferson came back a few minutes later, and the look he exchanged with Gold could only be described as conspiratorial. She eyed them both, but they ignored it and struck up a benign conversation and the supplies that were being sent to Avonlea. Bae noticed nothing but the tray of cakes and biscuits.

Once they’d all had their fill of hot tea and sweets, they moved to sit in the adjacent sitting room. After a few minutes, Jefferson went to see about something or other, and Belle was about to interrogate her husband as to what was really going on, when Jefferson returned.

“I believe it’s time,” he said, ducking his head through the doorway, briefly, before retreating again.

Gold stood, smiling, and came over to where Belle was seated on the sofa with Bae. “Would you come outside with me for a moment?”

Belle frowned. “What is going on?”

Gold’s smile grew as he held out his hand for her to take. “I have a surprise for you.”

She looked over at Bae, who seemed to be as confused as she was, and then back to Gold. After eyeing him a moment, she put her hand in his and stood, letting him lead her out of the sitting room and into the main hallway. Astrid was waiting with a grin and another of her heavy winter cloaks.

“It seems everyone is in on this,” she muttered.

“I’m not!” chimed Bae. He appeared as excited about this surprise as he would if it was for him, and was already pulling on his coat and gloves, prepared to follow all of them out the front door.

Belle settled her cloak over her shoulders and fastened the clasps at the front just as Gold was coming to her side. He had put on his dark blue overcoat, trimmed with gold stitching, which she had to admit she found very appropriate and very fetching on him. He offered her his arm, and she gave him a narrow look as she accepted it. It must have amused him because he chuckled softly and patted her hand as he led her to the door.

The carriage was parked out front, along with one of the supply wagons, and she frowned. “Are we going somewhere?”

Gold shook his head. “No, but perhaps you might be.”

Jefferson was waiting next to the carriage, and as soon as everyone was outside, he gave the coachman a nod. The carriage went in one direction, the wagon in the opposite, and they parted to reveal a sizable chestnut colored horse standing between them. Belle blinked, and then a second later let out a delighted squeal as she bounded down the front steps.

“Philippe!” she exclaimed, hurrying to the horse’s side. Immediately, the beast seemed to recognize her presence, and nudged her with his nose as she took the reins from the man holding them. “Did you miss me?”

Philippe whinnied loudly and pushed at her free hand until she opened her palm. “I’m afraid I don’t have any treats for you. I didn’t know you were coming to visit me!”

“I’d hoped he was planning on staying,” Gold said, coming down the steps and over to where Belle stood with her horse. “We’ve made a spot for him in the stables.”

She looked over at her husband, her lips pressed together before she broke into a wide grin. Letting go of the reins, she threw her arms up and around his neck, pulling herself against him in a tight hug. He let out a light grunt, and after a brief moment, returned the gesture by putting his arms gently around her torso. She took longer than he anticipated to let go, and when she did she was beaming up at him, her eyes sparkling in the winter sun and so very blue. He’d never noticed what a striking color they were, and when she finally pulled away from him, he felt almost dazed by the realization.

“How did you know?” she asked.

Gold shook his head. “Know what?”

Her cheeks had started to hurt from smiling, but she couldn’t stop. It was as if Cameron had read her mind, when she’d only just decided to speak with him about bringing Philippe here. There was a fullness of affection in her chest that made her want to hug him again, but she was aware that they were not alone.

“I was going to ask you if I could bring Philippe here,” she explained. “But here he is.”

He laughed. “Well, great minds, as they say.”

She giggled and turned back to her horse, who had not stopped nudging and bumping against her arm for attention. “I wish it wasn’t so late in the afternoon, or we could go for a ride.”

Gold frowned. “There’s at least two hours of daylight left, and more before dinner.”

Belle looked over her shoulder at Gold. “You don’t mind.”

He shook his head and stepped closer. “I will never mind you doing what makes you happy.”

“Thank you.”

She took his hand, giving it a grateful squeeze, before handing the reins off and hurrying back into the house with Bae and Astrid trailing after her. Gold smiled at her back and then turned to Philippe, giving him a gentle rub on his neck.

“Well, I think you’ve made your mistress quite happy indeed.”

“And so have you,” Jefferson said quietly. He smirked at Gold as the horse was led away by one of the stable hands to be saddled.

Gold gave him a look, and then turned to head back inside. “I’m not sure I know what you mean by that statement.”

Jefferson fell into step beside him. “Just that the mistress of the house seems very pleased with your surprise.”

“Again, I’m not certain I know your meaning.”

Gold gave him another sideways look as they stepped into the house, and Jefferson laughed. “I mean exactly what I said, and if you think I’m implying something else, then you should perhaps ask yourself why that is.”

Gold stopped and spun on his heel to face Jefferson, his voice low as he spoke. “There is nothing to imply, and you know it.”

“Do I”?” he replied, eyebrows raised and a coy smile curving his mouth. “One might say you two have become quite...close.”

Gold sighed and rolled his eyes. “You know it’s not -”

At that moment, Belle came down the stairs, having changed into her riding dress. Her hair was pulled into a thick braid that lay over one shoulder, with a few loose locks falling free over her forehead and curling at the ends. She was still smiling, and came over to where Gold and Jefferson were talking as Astrid straightened her cloak once more.

“It’s not what?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Gold said. “Jefferson is just giving me grief.”

She nodded. “Well, he is very good at his job.”

“Indeed,” Gold grumbled, as Jefferson and Belle shared a laugh. Then he felt Belle pull at his arm, and the next thing he knew, she was hugging his arm, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. He looked down at her, her face slightly squashed as she grinned up at him. “And what’s this for?”

She let go and shrugged, then turned so Astrid could help her put on her cloak. “I’ll be back before dinner,” she said to all three of them. Then she breezed out the front door and over to the path that led to the stables.

Astrid waved after her, and then headed back upstairs, leaving Gold and Jefferson alone again.

Jefferson bumped his shoulder against Gold’s as he turned. “It’s not what?” he asked, grinning cheekily.

Gold shot a glare at him, and then shrugged off his overcoat, handing it off to one of the maids before making his way back upstairs to his study. He closed the door behind him and walked straight across the room to the windows that look out onto the front of the house. Belle was already on Philippe, walking him up to the main gate, and Gold watched as she led the horse through and to the right, no doubt having been given directions by one of the stable hands as to where the riding path was that led around the edge of the estate. He smiled as he saw her give her horse a light flick with the reins, urging Philippe into a quick trot, and followed her form until she disappeared around the trees and out of sight.

He knew Jefferson was only teasing, but he was uncertain if others might have the wrong impression of his relationship with Belle. While they were married and it was hardly a scandal if people assumed all that came with that, he wasn’t sure if Belle would feel the same way. But then he supposed it might make their appearance at the palace all the more troublesome if there were no such assumptions.

Gold frowned as he considered that his plan might backfire spectacularly.

[lotornomiko]

The Broken Hearted Comfort Chapter Four (Not work safe)

Got another chapter done. It veers strongly into dub con territory though....Be careful if that is the kind of thing that you find triggering. (THough no full on sex happened.)

Hook Belle paring!

 The room that has been serving as her cage, is one that was utterly bland in appearance. With drab shades of gray as far as the eye could see, with little other true color to be found. Furniture was even more sparse, just a small wooden table shoved in one corner, and a simple cot instead of that of a real bed for Belle to rest on. There was a privacy screen allowed her, hiding her bath and toilet from sight. Once and only once a day, a servant would come, the same nearly blind woman, who didn't so much as turn towards Belle let alone speak.

That old woman was the only contact with the outside world that Belle now had. The only face that she ever saw, and the only proof that the world still existed outside of this room. For this room was one that was entirely windowless, the recycled air inside it so stale and suffocating. It was nothing more than a prison, one that was made to make that which it held, wilt like a flower.

Belle was indeed suffering just like that, perhaps even dying a slow death as the Queen's prisoner. Certainly she was losing her mind, Belle having had nothing to do but sit or pace, endlessly thinking her thoughts. Wondering about how her life could have been reduced to this. Wondering if there had been any way to avoid what had happened to her, or if this unsatisfying fate had ultimately always been inevitable.

Belle often thought about the what could have been. The what if's that had centered around the making of different vital choices. Would she have been happier if Belle had stayed in her father's kingdom? Would her life have been more rich and fulfilling if she had married Gaston and had borne his children? Or would she have even had a chance for a family of her own, when the Ogres had been on the verge of wiping out her father's entire kingdom? Mostly however, Belle found she spent the most time wondering about Rumplestiltskin and the choices that she AND he had both made.

There were so many what if surrounding the man. What if she had never gone with him, which had been the one that was easy enough to guess an answer to. But what of the others? Ones like what if she had never fallen in love with him? If she had never kissed him? If she had never allowed herself to believe there was a chance that he could love her back? What if he had never forcibly evicted her from his castle, what if her decisions hadn't landed her right in the Queen's trap. So many what ifs, leaving Belle regretting most if not all of them.

Her thoughts weren't exactly charitable at times. Belle was after all, nursing the worst and also the first of what would probably be the only broken heart she would ever have the misfortune to receive. For Rumplestiltskin hadn’t been the ideal man to have developed that bloom of first love for. For what he had been satisfied to keep at a distance, had absolutely left him enraged when faced with the power of true love's kiss up close.

Belle still didn't understand it. Why had Rumplestiltskin been so enraged by her love? Why had he flown into such a fury, horrified at the kiss, at the chance to break his curse? Why had he valued isolation and power more than he had at a chance for true love? Worst of all, why had Rumplestiltskin treated her so unkindly, his actions so hurtful, his words even crueler.

It was as though Rumplestiltskin had set out to break Belle's heart, to thoroughly ensure that her kiss would never again hold power over him or his curse. He had all but succeeded in that too, Belle hurting and ever so heartbroken. Not understanding what was so unfavorable about HER, why Rumplestiltskin hadn't valued her affection, nor why he had been unable to tolerate her kisses.

Belle has had a lot of time to think. Perhaps more than was healthy. She had examined her every interaction with Rumplestiltskin. From those terrifying first days when he had brought her into his home, to the times after, where the love had begun to bloom, Belle having gotten to know him.

Or so she had thought. Belle now knew she didn't really know him at all. She had only seen the sides he had wanted her to see, hiding his foul deeds and dirty dealings from her. She had been privy to his beast, the side that had first terrified and intimidated her so badly that she had been left to do nothing but tremble before him. Later yet, would come another facet, that of the quiet charmer, who shared many a conversation with her. Conversations which Belle now realized had seen HER doing most of the talking, waxing poetic about her expectations of love, speaking on the dreams she had had for herself.

Rumplestiltskin had smiled and made the appropriate comments, but he hadn't really shared much about himself. Belle now wondered if he had been toying with her, using her as just a moment's bit of entertainment. While all the while, never dreaming that Belle's rapidly growing infatuation could one day prove a true danger to him.

Belle had been in the full bloom of love, imagining Rumplestiltskin as the dark hero in a fairy tale. Making assumptions about him, building him up to be something that he was not, only to be overwhelmingly crushed when he proved himself to be more unfeeling monster than loving man.

Thar day that she had excitedly gathered up her nerve to kiss him? It had been exhilarating, those first kisses. Sidling up shyly to him, inching closer until she brushed her lips over his. He hadn't kissed her back, but Belle had assumed it was shock that had held him frozen. Undeterred, Belle had continued, trying to kiss him, then even harder yet. Feeling the tingles in response, the magic working, his curse ready to come undone. And then it had all gone to hell, Rumplestiltskin violently shoving her away.

What followed was an all out tantrum of the most furious kind, Rumplestiltskin mad and raving like a lunatic. Actually pushing her down to the floor, throwing things, looking like he wanted to HIT HER. He never actually did, but she bore the bruises all the same, dark marks from where his hands had gripped rough hold of her arm, jerking Belle up off the floor. Dragging her through the castle to its deepest bowels, throwing her into a dungeon, and leaving her there for days on end.

Belle had been in a state of shock, not able to understand why things had gone bad like that. She'd be still frozen in disbelief when Rumplestiltskin finally came to her, telling her such awful things. Mean things, hurtful things, cruelly setting out to rip her heart and her love to shreds. Belle's heart already cracked, began to break further, tears pricking at her eyes. And still she had stubbornly clung to her ideals, to her belief that her love could save a man who did not want to be saved.

It had taken Rumplestiltskin bodily lifting her up, and throwing her to the ground outside his front door, for Belle to finally shake free of her shock. To finally walk away, even as she had been expecting him to call out to her. That final shred of hope had been waiting for Rumplestiltskin to realize his mistakes, to realize his love for her.

He hadn't, and her heart had cracked further. It wouldn't break apart until later, until Belle had this endless time to think back and do nothing but examine her time with Rumplestiltskin. Because before her imprisonment, there had been that broken state of disbelief, Belle nursing the pain in her heart and unsure of what to do with herself.

The only thing that Belle had been absolutely clear on then was that she couldn't return to her kingdom. She refused to be known as nothing more than a self sacrificing martyr, a ruined woman who had given up everything to save her father's kingdom. The people there could appreciate her sacrifice, but would not want to associate with a princess who was fallen and stained in their eyes.

There would be no happily ever after in her father's kingdom. Not for Belle. And the way that she had felt, nursing her hurt heart, Belle hadn't believed there was a happily ever after to be found for her in any of the Enchanted Realm's other kingdoms. But she had to try, if not to move on, then to at least build some kind of life for herself. So she had drawn on her inheritance, the money her father had set aside for her. It allowed Belle to survive, to wander aimlessly from town to town, until she could finally make some kind of choice over what to do next.

She never did figure out that choice, Belle too busy mourning, suffering. Spending most of the evenings inside a tavern, nursing a single drink on the pretense of being near the people who partied there. Belle had thought if she was around happy, laughing people, that maybe that feeling would rub off onto her.

It hadn't, and not many had dared approach her, once they noticed the pain in her eyes. She was left alone, isolated from even the good feelings inside the tavern. Left to stew in her own misery and suffering, an outsider staring in, desperate to be a part of those happier feelings.

That desperation wasn't only about wanting to be happy. Belle had wanted to be loved. She'd end up settling for less, for feeling something, anything, even if it was just meaningless sex. She hadn't set out to be used, just wanting to feel, wanting to know that someone else could appreciate and want her, find her lovely and worthy of their affection. The pirate had done just that, at least at first. She had followed him into the alley, not because he was handsome, but because he had worn a similar broken expression of such raw pain.

His blue gaze had been haunted, his eyes reflecting a heart that had broken so completely that she was surprised he hadn't died from the pain of it. Belle hadn't known her own eyes showed a similar pain, which had attracted the pirate to her in turn. And when they had finally come together in that alley, he HAD wanted her. Had shown her the affection that Rumplestiltskin had denied her. The pirate had kissed and touched her, and it had been soothing enough to make Belle feel a fleeting sense of something.

Any positive feelings or comfort had been dashed, the minute the pirate had so cruelly taken her virginity. It had been a shock of a different kind, a right slap in the face that had awakened Belle to just what she had been doing. And though she had cried out, the pirate hadn't stopped, hadn't even slowed his actions. He had just kept right on using her, thrusting with a near mindless abandonment, taking his own satisfaction and leaving Belle to feel dirty, used.

Horrified, humiliated, and hurt, all this and more Belle had felt. Feeling foolish, even stupid, Belle had slapped him and run away. Wanting to never see him again, barely able to look at her OWN reflection, Belle had felt sick at what she had let happen. She had made a vow then and there, to never again let that pirate, let ANY man prey on her weaknesses and vulnerabilities again.

That night, was the very reason she had made the decision to go on the monster hunt. She was no warrior, but she had other skills, and the hunt seemed as good a thing to do as anything else. Besides it would have gotten her out of town, far away from the pirate and the humiliations, the memories of what had happened between them.

Sometimes Belle wondered if she could have avoided ending up the Queen's hostage, if she had stayed put in that town. If she hadn't gone on that hunt. But the Queen HAD been looking for her, and the men on the hunt had been all too quick to betray Belle to the Queen. Those men were all dead now, the Queen not trusting them to not spread talk about the captive that she had caught. It was why the servant was blind, unable to truly see Belle to describe her to any who might whisper about the beauty in the tower.

The Queen kept Belle carefully guarded, hidden out of sight and out of mind of all who might betray her whereabouts. Belle herself could not even scream, the room windowless and sound proofed, so that not even a being as magical as Rumplestiltskin would be able to find her. But Belle didn't entirely understand the point of this. She had no value to Rumplestiltskin, the man simply not caring. Belle knew that one day the Queen would realize that, and then Belle would most likely die on the Queen's orders.

Belle's heart which had already born many cracks and tears to it, all but fell apart in that tower. The woman expected to never again be free, to never again see the outside world, or to breathe in its fresh air. She certainly didn't expect to see anyone other than the blind servant, and perhaps maybe the Queen. She most definitely wasn't expecting the pirate to come swaggering into her room, looking like some dark clad hero out of a less knowledgeable girl's wildest fantasies.

Belle was downright shocked to see him, not to mention aghast. And yes, she could admit that the pirate was the most exciting thing to have happened to her in the weeks that she had spent here imprisoned. But he was also down right scary, pinning her on the cot, kissing and pawing at her. Speaking words that seemed more threat than just promise, assuming he had a right to what he was doing, and what it was that he wanted from her.

Fed up and not about to take much more abuse from anyone, not even a would be savior, Belle had hauled off and hit him. She had one satisfying moment after her hand connected with his cheek, Belle watching as his face was turned to the side from the force of that blow. She might have even smirked, if she hadn't been so scared.

But just as Belle was frightened, she was also angry. The pirate was the last person she had ever expected to see, and he rivaled Rumplestiltskin in just how much Belle had never wanted to see either man ever again. It was a toss up just who she disliked more in the moment, Belle all but hissing now.

"Get your hand off of me."

It was deliberate, the way that he responded by maintaining the touch. By doing more than just that, his fingers doing a presumptuous caress, molding them to fit to the shape of her breast’s ample curve. It wasn’t at all painful to be pawed at by him, the sensation simply one that was far more intrusive then anything else he had thus far done in this room. Belle bit down on her lip, refusing to give so much as a whimper in response to the fondling that he was doing.

She also began shoving at his shoulders, trying to bodily push him off of her, when the pirate turned to pin her with the blue of his eyes that were positively smoldering with some dark emotion. Any signs that he might have been shocked by the slap that Belle had given him were gone, and his own dark blue eyes were  narrowing. Annoyance was among the emotions darkening in his gaze, but there was something far more sinister as well. Something downright predatory amid the annoyance and frustration. Something that made him seem like a desperate man with nothing to lose.

"That's not a proper show of gratitude." He finally spoke, and Belle couldn't stop herself from narrowing her own eyes in response. "Especially towards someone who has gone through a lot of trouble to find you."

She was too upset to truly wonder at that, at his reasons, and his abilities to do what the Evil Queen had deemed all but impossible. Instead there was a fire in her, a spirit that had several tart replies presenting themselves to her. Almost as though she couldn’t stop herself, her voice came out sounding snide, Belle hissing at him. "You have a twisted sense of entitlement if you think I owe you anything." Again she pushed at him, but the pirate still refused to be budged from his place over her. "Get off of me!"

If anything he settled more firmly on top of her. "You didn't say please."

Her lips pressed together, Belle stubbornly refusing to try the word out on him. The pirate made that of a tsking sound, giving her breast yet another kind of caress, one who had his thumb’s fingertip brushing against a cloth covered nipple. "Why are you even here?" Belle gasped out, and hated that she had let out such a sound.

The pirate actually paused, looking thoughtful as though he had several answers he could give her. And all the while he kept on touching her breast, another finger joining the thumb, to pluck and play at the nipple there. She was sure that the blush was upon her, given the warmth in her cheeks, and it was a fire that was felt elsewhere in her body, a traitorous stirring of flesh, causing the part that he played with, to bead noticeably.

Made mortified by her own body’s slight reaction, the imprisoned beauty almost didn’t catch the words that the pirate then purred with a knowing smile.

"Would you believe I happened to be in the area?"

"Hardly." Belle scoffed, trying to shift beneath him. It didn’t spare her his touch, or that of the way that his fingers kept on playing. If anything, her struggles only helped to settle him more firmly on top of her, and they both became aware of just how sprawled on the cot she truly was, with her thighs slightly spread, and the pirate pressed between them. Her breath AND his both caught in each other’s throat, Belle a tremble with how provocative and dangerous a position she was in.

"Clever girl." He murmured, bending his head to kiss at her neck. She felt the firm, sensual feel of that potent expression, his lips’ kiss about the only positive memory of that night in the alley. His mouth alone held such seductive power to it, the touch of it enough to melt icier hearts than Belle’s, if not for the chill she felt from his words. "The truth is..." The pirate said in between brushing his lips over her racing pulse. "I came here looking for you."

She wasn’t sure what to make of that, the idea so surprising, and ever so shocking and outlandish, that there was no way that Belle could believe it to be true. This HAD to be mere chance, just an odd trick of misfortune that had the pirate stumbling upon her once again. He seemed to take her lack of comment as a sign to continue, his kisses upon her settling in the crook of her shoulder, his hook catching at the fabric of her tunic, to better expose her shoulder to him.

“Stop that!: Belle gasped, never once losing her fight. She pushed at him again, ever so wary and cautious, but also hissing at him. “For me!? As if I could believe that!”

“Why?” He had lifted his head, blue gaze stilling her in the moment. “Why can’t you?”

She blinked slowly, once, twice, three times in all. “Well….why would you come here for me?” It wasn’t as rude and scoffing sounded as she had intended, Belle’s voice more wounded and soft sounding then anything. Her vulnerability was coming out, whether she meant it to or not, Belle certain she had no value, nothing to offer anyone to make it worth their while to come after her.

She certainly wouldn’t believe that the pirate could be motivated to be selfless, or in the idea that he could have wanted a second go at her. No one was that crazy, that suicidal, to risk the evil queen all on just a chance of a good lay. This was merely a chance encounter, a fortuitous twist of fate that the  opportunistic pirate had thought to seize. If she let him, he’d not only use her again, he’d abandon her as quick as it took to zip up his trouser’s fly after.

Feeling hurt no matter what way she looked at it, Belle blinked through the sheen of despairing wetness that was filling her eyes. “I don’t know anything.: She said out loud, quick enough. As though pretending his sexual interest wasn’t a factoring thing here, Belle stating the words this prison had made her begun to believe wholeheartedly. “I am of NO value to you.” Belle hadn’t even thought to speak Rumplestiltskin's name, too busy trying to convince the pirate he was wrong about her, whatever his intent. "You and the Queen both waste your time on me."

"You'll find the Queen and I have very different goals where you are concerned."  Again she was pierced by the storm dark blue of his eyes, Belle trembling despite her best intent.

“And...And those are?” Her prodding turned into a gasp, his mouth suddenly pressed over hers, claiming the lustiest kiss to have ever been stolen from her. It brought to mind rain soaked nights, and dark alleyways, of the press of eager lips against a gasping mouth, that intoxicating effect, and the way she had responded to it all.

She couldn’t stop her shaking, even after he had finished laying siege to her mouth. The pirate then pressed his forehead to hers, staring into her eyes, with a look of pure determination and need.

"Let's just say....you have something that I need."

She wanted to be tart, to demand what that could be, even as he kept making it so blatantly obvious. Instead she shivered with awareness, with the way he was pressed over and against her, and then she was panicking, shoving at him again, unable to accept THAT as the real answer. "You know, never mind. I'll say thank you for the rescue, but that's all you're going to get from me."

His eyes so dark already, became twin pools of a fathomless depth, his lips setting in a firm line of a grimace. It was as though his own restraint, what little he had shown, was snapping, and then he was grabbing at her, hauling her off balance completely, as he kissed her again. It was a harder, more fierce pressing of their lips, the pirate’s mouth so hot and demanding, as his tongue traced over the shape of hers. This time when she gasped, he took full advantage of it, tongue darting into the opening she had given him, to explore and caress what was inside.

Her hands on him, she tried to shove back, but his arms had gone around her, holding her close, and closer yet. His hand and his hook moved with impudent grace, the fabric of her tunic bunching further under their touch. She’d shiver and freeze, and then outright panic, the heated memories his kisses had given her, being overridden by the sound of her clothing rustling, and what had followed. The pain, Belle remembering his lack of care, once the pirate had gotten under her skirts, and she was terrified of it happening again now. It made her frightened, and it made her angry, Belle not wanting to be used, to be hurt by him, and hands that had been pushing at him, now turned blatantly violent, slapping and striking against him wherever she could, even as the breath inside her caught and built to an uneven tempo.

She thought she heard him growl, but it came from a distance, Belle dizzy and made panicked, and struggling not to choke. Suddenly she was on her back, with both of her wrists caught by his large hand. She struggled and arched beneath him, her breaths made further ragged and suffocating. The pirate glared down at her with such heat, and such frustration, his hand busy with hers, but his hook seemed to traced down her body, as though to prove he wasn’t deterred by this, by her.

She then became aware of more than that hook’s travels, again realizing how her legs were spread, and that the pirate was still situated between them. She couldn’t look away from his eyes, from the dark humor that filled them, the pirate letting her know how aware he was of HER awareness of his arousal, and the fright that it was causing her.

“Don’t...” She started to say, but then her panic thought better of it, Belle opening her mouth to let loose with a shrill scream. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping would result, the frightened princess exhaling with the sound of a second, when someone ran into the room. She didn’t know what to think, who to hope for, a guard, or the queen? She couldn’t look past the pirate’s eyes, to even see who had barged in, but then a decidedly male voice  would speak, this man most assuredly feeling harried and annoyed.

"Captain! We don't have time for this." At those angry words hissed, Belle’s hope for a rescue was lost, the woman realizing this was just another cohort of her attacker’s. That very pirate, this so called captain, then muttered out a curse. He also lifted off of Belle, turning to snarl at the other man. "Tell the others we'll be down soon enough. I just have to...."

"WE?" Belle questioned sharply. "I'm not going ANYWHERE with you." She had a note of the hysterical in her voice, but also that of a strong refusal, Belle taking a stand, and rejecting the idea of his plan.

He looked at her, and for one moment his dark eyes held surprise in them. Belle wondered if the pirate had really thought it that simple, had really expected her to gladly go off with him to whatever molestation and perversions he had in mind. Belle almost snorted then, stubbornly lifting her chin, and firmly stating her position.

"I am not about to go anywhere with you, or continue this...association for any longer than need be."

Belle actually expected him to make some threats, to swagger and say she'd come with him, or she wouldn't leave at all. Instead, with frustration blooming in his eyes, he stood, Belle quickly going upright with him.

"I'm giving you once choice in this matter." He finally said, still gripping her by the arm. "You can either walk out of here with me of your own volition, or you can be carried out, kicking and screaming the whole way down."

"You wouldn't..." Belle breathed out in a hiss. His expression turned hard and steely eyed.

"Try me." He dared back.

"You are insane!" Belle exclaimed. "Thinking that I would be grateful, that I would go anywhere with you after all that you've done." Her chin lifted stubbornly. "I'd rather stay the Queen's prisoner than go with you!"

Belle barely got the words out, and already she was being lifted, actually thrown over the pirate's shoulder. Her mouth dropped open in shock, Belle speechless as he stalked out of the room with her. From lower in the tower, she could hear a great many voices, the sounds of people cheering. Belle couldn't guess what was going on, but it galvanized her into action, the woman kicking and screaming just like the pirate had predicted she would.

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To Be Continued....

Updated: 8/26/2021 Just some minor tweaking here and there till the whole Hook Belle encounter mid chapter. That part got majorly rewritten….

----Michelle

[countessofravenclaw]

Only just a Dream

"I don't know when I will return, and we will both suffer. "

These words hit Nina hard. He couldn't be saying what she was thought he was saying.

"What are you trying to tell with that?"

"Maybe it would be better if we separated."

With those words, her world fell down. She tried to hold herself together in front of him, but how could she lose him? How could she survive without him? She had tried to do that last year during those three weeks they had been apart, but even that was too much, but forever... with that she watched him walk away... from Buenos Aires, Roller and... Her...

NO!

Nina woke up and for a moment she didn't remember where she was. There were tears in her eyes and she was shaking. He was gone, she had lost him forever.

But then she felt his arms around her and everything came back, it had only been a dream.

She looked at him sleeping next to her... like they had done for the past few months since they had moved out of the school dorms and gotten a place together close to the Oxford University.

She would be finishing high school in just a few months and she had very much enjoyed doing the exchange to England. She and Gaston had already made plans for returning visit to Buenos Aires so they could be there in person for Luna's birthday, then she would be starting university at Oxford.

Three years ago she would have never thought she would be here like this: living in England and with him...

She had met Gaston Perida 6 years ago. On her first day of seventh grade, she had ran into him and dropped her books. From that day forward she had been hopelessly in love with him, always secretly watching him when he skated, in the Blake Library, when he was with Matteo, always watching him and knowing it could never be possible until...

After he had finally kissed her she thought she must have been dreaming but she wasn't... it had really happened. He loved her. She would be lying if she said that she didn't wake up a couple times fearing that it had all been just a dream during the leading summer, but then she would notice a voice mail that he would send her every morning. When they were both traveling during the vacation they spend most of the nights talking to each other for hours on the phone. She had framed that photo she had taken of him in the photography workshop on her bedside table and later she learned that he had done the same.

She would have never thought that she would have that kind of luck. He made her better, with him she didn't fear anything anymore. He made her take risks to reach for her dreams.

Without him, she would have never had the courage to do what she had always wanted to do: study abroad. She had always imagined how it would be like living on her own, meet new international people, and learn new languages, all without her overprotective mother hovering over her or her parents putting her in the middle of their arguments. Not that she didn't love her parents, but the distance had made her feel much freer. It really felt like she could finally breathe.

And she almost didn't do it. The choice had been hard, but she knew that she had made the right choice. In the end, it had been quite obvious. Writing opportunities would come and go, this was her future: Oxford and being with Gaston...

The dream she had flashed in front of her eyes. In it she had not gone with him, she had stayed in Buenos Aires... and... they had broken up... because of it. Just a thought made her shiver. Thoughts started to swirl in her head. That would have never happened, close or far, they would always be together. They had literally fallen in love through a computer screen. It was destiny that had brought them together. Thye could have never separated whatever they would have done.

She couldn't get that image of him walking away out of her head. It had just been a Dream!

"Hey, what is wrong?" Gaston's voice snapped her out of her trance.

"Nothing"

She knew that she couldn't fool him.

"You never wake up in the middle of the night. Tell me, what is wrong?"

He must have noticed that she was shaking because he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"I had a dream... in it... you left me because I didn't come with you."

Tears started to fall to her cheeks but he brushed them away.

"I was just a dream. I'm here, always will be. "

"But... what if that would have happened?"

"It doesn't do you any good to dwell on what-ifs. That never happened and never would have. I could never leave you. You know that I'm incapable of living without you. Where ever we are, I will always love you."

Even in the dark, she could see his eyes that were looking at her intensively. She couldn't help but smile.

"Sometimes I still can't believe that I'm hearing you say those words."

"How many years did you have a crush on me again before you stood me up on that date?"

"Three to four. You know that I will regret that for the rest for my life"

"I would have loved you as much then as I do now."

"I know"

He kissed her forehead and then she finally fell back to sleep in his arms. And that dream never returned, it almost was like it never even happened, like it of course never did.

So... can we just all agree that the breakup in S3 was just a dream. Season 3 didn't actually happen, Eric doesn't exist and Nina went to Oxford with Gaston at the end of S2. Yes, I also threw some shade towards the breakup... BECAUSE IT DID NOT MAKE ANY SENSE!

[eirian-houpe]

Scattered - Chapter 8

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 8 - Follow His Wishes

Regina held her trembling hand up along side her head, fighting with the angry swirling sense of confusion and nothing that filled the once silvered surface of the mirror. For a moment, one alone, she thought she had him as she stood mumbling affectations of a desperate soul, but when she reached with what limited magic she had managed to glean from the world to which the curse had brought them all, well… it simply wasn’t enough.

The mirror flared briefly, swirling and sparking with a muted mauve amid the black and silver maelstrom, before the mirror became the chaos she now saw fading into her own reflection. She fell short of smashing her closed fist against the surface of the looking glass by barely a breath, opening, and diverting the blow to land against the wall, the palm of her hand stung as it slapped beside the mirror.

She took a breath, which flared her nostril and heard the man behind her shift by the rustle of fabric; the scuff of a boot.

“Well, he’s alive at least,” she said, and then swinging around to face Jefferson with a look of minor triumph on her face belying her rising fury she added, “And not in a place without magic… or else how would he deflect my attempt to find him… so…” She nodded to where the the box sat on the table. When he made no move to take it, she snapped, “I won’t ask again.”

She saw the man fold his arms, a frown lowering his brows, and a full pout turning his mouth down in a visual sigh.

“And what makes you think you can hurt me any more than you already have?” he rumbled, part petulant and part his own brand of pure denial, which she’d always found infuriating.

“Oh, Jefferson,” she purred as she walked up to, and then past the man, running the touch of a finger around his shoulder as she did. “Do you honestly think that separation is the worst I could do?”

She left the room, trusting him to pick up his hat like a good little lackey - for his daughter’s sake, of course. She laughed softly as she passed through the door. She never had any intention of reuniting him Grace. He was far too valuable to her as her tamed lap dog - even compelled as he was.

**

Rumplestiltskin did not slide obsequiously into the castle. He strode in, as if in ownership, through the front door. Guards that would ordinarily have questioned, if not barred his entry did not even move a muscle to prevent his passage, as though they could feel the anger, the murder in his heart.

Once inside, however, servants and chamberlain’s hurried in his wake, as if hanging on his every word, but he said nothing, simply strode with ever increasing determination - fueled by his anger, which grew from frustration for each moment he did not see Gaston - toward the audience hall. As he gave it further thought, however, he realized it was obvious that the young Chanctonbury would be absent. He would be out with the hunting parties, after all, hunting for Belle, the rightful Lady of Amberley.

He fought with himself not to use the magic he gathered through his anger and connection to the land to throw open the doors to the great hall - such as it was - and instead used the power of his own two hands. They swung easily on well greased hinges; almost too easily as they bounced back from their fullest extent almost before he had entered the room.

“You,” he said and pointed at Lord DuMarche’s seneschal, who currently occupied the throne in the audience hall, presiding over a meeting of the Lord’s council. “Come with me.”

“You over-reach yourself, footman!”

One of the council-men, his voice dripping sarcasm as he spoke, came to his feet and turned to face Rumplestiltskin, of course seeing only Rascende.

Rumplestiltskin frowned, reminding himself once more not to simply lash out with his gathered magic and crush the man where he stood. Instead, he fixed him with a baleful stare while, outside of the window, the sky began to roil in mounting darkness, as thunder rumbled overhead.

The four council-men still in their seats made warding signs against evil, and the one who had challenged Rumplestiltskin took a half step back and fell into his seat as the back of his knees hit the wood at its edge.

“Wise choice,” Rumplestiltskin rumbled almost more deeply than the thunder, but then tipping his head to one side, reconsidering his decision, he said, “Though… perhaps you should come too. All of you.”

He fixed them all with another, uncompromising gaze before he turned his back on them and started toward the door. To a man they all scrambled to follow, as the throng already gathered in the doorway parted like swirling mist at Rumplestiltskin’s passing.

“Where are we going?” the seneschal asked.

Rumplestiltskin paused and half turned for almost long enough for the councilmen to catch up with him, and almost sang, “Why, to see your lord, of course.” Then he turned again, and strode away toward the wing of Amberley Hall where he knew he would find Belle’s father.

**

Roused by the thunder, Belle slowly began to surface from a troubling dream. Not exactly a bad dream just strange and somehow familiar. A fireplace, a chaise, a book in her lap and…

Her eyes turned to the wheel beyond the fireplace, the memory of a man - and yet not a man - sitting at the wheel spinning, but not wool, and not from fleece… spinning from straw and making—

“Gold,” she whispered.

“Pardon, m’Lady,” a soft voice made her start, and her heart raced until she turned her head and recognized the stable boy.

“Alex,” she said, his name coming out of her mouth in a sigh almost of relief. “You’re all right.”

Alex frowned slight as he came to crouch beside the cot, and offer up a cup of water to her still-trembling hand. “Of course, m’Lady,” he said in confusion, then, his face lighting in realization, added, “It will take more than a few licks of the lash to dampen my spirit.”

She offered a truly touched, but tired smile and suddenly feeling the extent of her thirst, brought the cup to her mouth, and between wincing as she tried to drink and the tremble in her fingers, almost spilled the whole of it over the front of her shift. Alex’s gentle fingers steadied hers, and helped her until her thirst was slaked, and she nodded for him to allow her to remove the cup from her lips.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Master Rascende instructed me to care for you while he was gone,” he said as though it were the most natural answer in the world. “Are you hungry?”

She shook her head, and at the movement felt the ache in her shoulders remind her of its presence and its cause. She tensed and looked around her.

“We’re safe here, remember?” She felt the warmth as Alex took her hand. “Uncle will see to it.”

“Uncle?” she asked with a frown. “Master Rascende is your uncle?”

“Not truly,” he confessed, “Not by blood, but he and my father were friends. Firm friends. He’s dead now though, and Rascende has been looking out for me every since he passed.”

“Who was your father? Perhaps I knew him,” she said, levering herself up to a sitting position in the cot and almost instantly regretted the movement as the aching burn in her limbs, between her thighs increased.

“I doubt it, m’Lady,” Alex answered regretfully. “My father died alongside Chanctonbury’s men in the first Barbarian Wars.”

Belle Shuddered.

She had been little more than a child herself when the wars were at their height, and she had lost her mother and her younger brother then; had almost lost her own life when they were attacked journeying between Lord Chanctonbury’s castle and Amberley Hall. There was some stain of doubt over the entire incident, and bad enough that Belle had to grow up without her mother. She couldn’t imagine what Alex must have gone through.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Alex told her, startling her into the socking realization that she had been speaking aloud of it until the stable boy answered her. “My father had already named Rascende as my guardian in case anything happened to him. There was little to be done by any of us than to follow his wishes.”

Belle couldn’t help but frown, and tip her head to study Alex in greater detail, as if trying to remember something; something of the past and the history of the wars.

“What happened to your mother?” She asked, worrying at the torrent of remembered facts all tangled in her mind. When she looked up at the stable boy, Alex was shaking his head.

“I never knew her,” he said, but didn’t offer any more.

[dingoat]

FOR AHUSKA, Uncommon Questions: 1, 3, 5, 12, 17, 19, 21, 23, 25, 28, 29. FOR FIVE: 1, 6, 9, 11, 12, 15, 17, 19, 21, 25, 28.

WELL NOW :D *cracks knuckles*

PREPARE YOURSELF FOR A RIDE

For THE BEST GIRL, with bonus notes when there are werewolf variations:

1.  What position does your character sleep in? ( i.e; stomach, side, back, etc. ) Describe why they do this — optional. Almost always on her side, generally slightly curled up. It’s a very accommodating position to have animals snuggled up against her or on top of her, and also very accommodating of having another person there too (she’s just as happy being the big spoon or the little spoon). Sometimes when she needs to sprawl, she’ll fall asleep on her back, but will always wind up on her side again come morning.

(Except when she’s a wolf. Wolf sleeps as a lovely wolf-ball.)

3.  Does your character have an accent? What does it sound like?

Ahaaa! Answered already here! :D

5. What are their chief tension areas?

Uhmmmm several, I think, if I’m understanding the question right! Forehead, jaw, shoulders - from stress. Lower back, from hard physical work. Wrist, from drawing. Her wrist and back are the areas she actually pays attention to and takes measures to ease, and just saying even though she can be a little finicky about who is allowed to actually touch her, a good neck/shoulder massage is a pretty reliable way to win her over.

12. Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has.

Covered here! Though of course I could add that in werewolf au she has the incredibly unusual characterstic of being a werewolf. 

17.  Is your character an introvert or an extrovert? How do they handle big crowds of people?

She is an introvert, and in general doesn’t like to spend too much time in large crowds. She’ll never be truly comfortable on big city planets, though a crowd that she can just vanish into is vastly preferable to a smaller crowd that is paying attention to her. Too many eyes on her can be debilitating and she’ll never perform as well as when she’s amongst a trusted circle, but when she’s in a group that she’s comfortable with she can be incredibly lively, bubbly and cheeky. Only a very small select few individuals could be around her without impacting her solo recharge time.

19.  If your character was suddenly challenged, would they rather run away or stay and fight?

Ooooof, this definitely depends on what form the challenge/r takes. Once was she might have gone to great lengths to avoid getting into a physical fight, but that has definitely changed and she is much quicker to rise to a challenge these days. Her preference would be to stick around and prove herself/make the challenging party eat their words, but she’s not an idiot and isn’t built on bravado; she’s definitely not too proud to make a tactical retreat if her life or limbs seem genuinely at stake. (That said, if it is somebody else’s life at stake, she’ll throw all caution to the wind if she values that somebody above herself. And despite appearances, she actually knows how to fight dirty to great effect.)

Werewolf Ahuska would stand and fight longer, and harder, and against greater challengers, but at the end of the day she will still run when it calls for it- unless she has engaged in berserk mode. Then there is no backing down, and she hasn’t been beaten yet.

21.  Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?

This one has been asked and answered here, in terms of current-timeline-regular-story Ahuska. But for current timeline WEREWOLF, her wishes are definitely different!

1. To no longer be hunted by anyone2. Fulfilment of #1 might acutally go a long way towards fulfilling this one, but just in case she’d wish for no more impossible obstacles between herself and Blakk. There’s honestly a lot she might wish for regarding the two of them, especially with what she hopes and wants for Blakk himself, but it wouldn’t take a lot of soul searching for her to know that she wouldn’t want to magically skip over anything that they might be able to explore and discover and solve together in a real and meaningful way.3. To always be able to keep her memory and mind when she shapeshifts.

23.  Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart?

If it HAD to be one or the other, she would most likely pick affection, because romance without affection would feel kind of empty, while affection without romance still fills her with warmth. But in all honesty she’d have a huge amount of trouble imagining one without the other and as far as Ahuska’s concerned they go hand in hand. The quickest way to her heart is to make her feel special, without a doubt. Words and acts that makes her feel desired, valued, worthwhile… all the things she has trouble seeing on her own. If someone makes her feel that with them, she can be a better version of herself… she’s gone, game over, done.

25, Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?

AHEM. Let it be said on the record that I, myself, am pretty clueless when it comes to knowing what would ACTUALLY BE WEIRD AND UNUSUAL. THAT SAID; she loves bedroom activities conducted outside of the bedroom, whether that’s out in the wilderness or right in the middle of the clan living quarters while the bosses are out or to duck away somewhere cheeky while out and about in the world. (In fact, she probably enjoys the boast factor of really random spots or getting away with it under people’s noses.) IT IS ALSO POSSIBLE that she has a startling familiarity with a lot of items that are TRADITIONALLY USED for animal husbandry purposes. Girl knows how to crack a whip and tie a knot if you know what I’m saying. >.>

28. Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?

Covered this one here! But werewolf Ahuska definitely carries more regrets, even if she forces herself to acknowledge that at the time she didn’t know better and that she was acting with incomplete/inaccurate information. But she is deeply, powerfully sorry that she allowed herself to be convinced, even briefly, that Blakk had intended harm to her and her friends, and very much regrets the consequences of the time that immediately followed. She’s grateful that her wolf-self saw sense before she allowed it to get any worse, but carries huge guilt that she didn’t have the strength to make things go better, either.

29.  Does your character get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Why?

Ahuska really does need a good balance of both, and won’t tolerate either absolute silence or pumping noise and activity for very long at all. At a vibrant party she’ll need to duck away sometimes onto a balcony or into the garden; when left somewhere alone for a long stretch she’ll need to have music playing or the pets around to stop the emptiness from feeling painful. She doesn’t like too much routine or stagnation either; if she feels like she’s been doing the same thing day in day out for too long she’ll be busting at the seams to break the routine and see or do something new.

AND NOW, FOR THE WORST BOY:

1.  What position does your character sleep in? ( i.e; stomach, side, back, etc. ) Describe why they do this — optional.

Five maintains a steady rotation of back sleeping and side sleeping to maximise the benefits of both positions while trying to negate some of the negatives. While back sleeping is good for his neck and spine and helps prevent wrinkles, he’s heard that side-sleeping can help prevent brain wastage so he errs on the side of caution and makes sure to do that regularly. Probably with a skin care routine.

6.  If you were to pick one song — and only one song — to describe your character, what would it be and why?

I DO NOT KNOW enough songs about this caliber of person to answer this well but to avoid choosing a disney villain song (though honestly a blend of Gaston and Hellfire wouldn’t be terribly wrong) I’m gonna suggest that The Wolf by SIAMES has some pretty pertinent lyrics….

I’m out of my head, of my heart and my mind‘cause you can run but you can’t hide, I’m gonna make you mine….

9.  Does your character dream or are their nights filled with an empty blackness? Describe a dream they’ve had or a night they couldn’t sleep and what they did to preoccupy their time.

I’m sure he does dream, but he doesn’t remember much of them. There is one recurring nightmare that haunts him, however, and he would do anything to stop it from plaguing his sleep. There’s a good chance he’d call for Thirteen to distract him on those nights, but during times when his favourite Cipher is on mission or otherwise unavailable, it wouldn’t be unusual for Five to give up on sleep and head out into the Kaas jungles with his hunting rifle, to scream and end lives under the endless thunderstorms.

11.  What do they think of creation? Do they believe in evolution or do they believe in God? What is their religion like?

Evolution is fact and gods are for the weak. His religion is conquest, and those who waste their lives pleasing imaginary beings deserve to be conquered.

12.  Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has.

Only five??? XD

1. He treats every interaction with every sentient being he encounters as a training exercise; he does not know how to function without trying to manipulate every other being to benefit him in some way.

2. He loves and hates animals equally, both sickened and fascinated by them, and to no small degree hates the fact that he finds them fascinating.

3. He is obsessed with his favourite brand of aftershave and doesn’t realise that pretty much everyone else in Intel knows when he’s been in a room ahead of them.

4. He is a control freak to an almost debilitating degree, but also knows how to play the game and rein himself in when things don’t go his way when necessary. But he’ll store that frustration and lash out at others behind closed doors rather than deal with and accept that disappointment in a healthy way.

5. He loves watching others cause pain and bloodshed almost more than he loves delivering it himself.

15. Can they multi-task or must they focus on one subject at a time?

He prefers being able to focus, and will generally try to arrange things so that his mind can be entirely present on whatever task is at hand, but he can and will multi-task if it is necessary- and do so very well. He is a Watcher, after all.

17.  Is your character an introvert or an extrovert? How do they handle big crowds of people?

He’s definitely an introvert. He hates almost everybody. And even though it can sometimes appear that he’s not happy until everybody is noticing, respecting, obeying and being awed and intimidated by him, in truth he will never really be happy until he learns how to do away with all that and actually be happy with himself.

19.  If your character was suddenly challenged, would they rather run away or stay and fight?

Oh he would fight, competently, mercilessly, and violently, with the expectation that his Ciphers would back him up without question.

21.  Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?

1. To have his sister back.2. For the head of the Roquefort’s prize narglatch to be mounted above his bed.3. To be promoted to Keeper.

25.  Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?

Okay so he is a sadistic, domineering control freak with a shapeshifting Cipher at his beck and call YOU DO THE MATH >.> 

28.  Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?

Absolutely, terrifically. A LOT of his insatiable desire for control springs from his terror of the utterly unforgiving nature of death. He regrets very little of his adult life but he fiercely regrets wandering off through the gardens that day as a young boy. He wishes he’d had the sense to stay put, he wishes he’d been stronger, and sometimes he wishes he’d gone first.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 177:  His True Love

He tried to go back to normal. He tried. But more than a month later and he felt like every morning the sun came up was the morning after she'd gone. Every time he had tea it tasted bland or it was too cold, hot, too old-imperfect. Every night he spent in his tower, he held back tears and constantly found himself ambling over to his tower windows, looking into her blackened library tower, glancing down the road, wondering if she'd ever come back.

He wasn't sure if he wanted her to.

He prepared for her to do so; for that possibility alone, he found himself at the forge late one night, the name Nimue scribbled on his dagger which held a trickled of blood he'd drawn himself from the Original even as she stared at him in contempt. She knew why he was taking it, how he'd come up with the idea to make a binding spell with her blood so that if Belle did come back and refuse to leave, they'd be free to do as they pleased without having to worry about her ever taking the curse from him again. After he completed the potion, True Love's Kiss, and a number of other lesser-known "cures" for curses, would never pose a threat to him again. Only the Seer seemed saddened by it, an emotion he quickly shoved aside.

"Clever, Rumpelstiltskin...none of us have ever thought of something like this," the Original muttered in a voice that sounded like she was mocking him just as much as she was praising him. He really couldn't bring himself to give a fuck about what she thought.

"Age comes with wisdom," he explained away.

"You know it won't work for everything. You'll still be vulnerable to the dagger, to the apprentice...to Merlin."

He glared at her as the blood on the dagger slid into the potion bottle he carried with him. He knew what she was doing, what she was trying to get him to do. But he just didn't care anymore. He was the strongest Dark One now, and he hadn't let Belle go to forget about Baelfire. He'd made his sacrifice, he wouldn't make another one for anything that was less than what Belle had been.

"I won't focus on your problem until I have my son back," he informed her. "You'll have to deal with that. Now, away with you."

He banished the woman away and completed the potion that night. But it seemed to do no good as the effort seemed to be in vain. Belle did not return. He told himself it was fine, it was right. He told himself, but he wasn't sure he believed it.

He missed her company during mealtimes, to the point that he'd given up eating again. He didn't need it. Without her, he didn't want it. It was just another task. He missed her company in the evening. He hadn't realized just how much her presence had settled him until he first sat down to spin in the evening, saw her spot by the fire vacant, and wondered why he should bother. He missed her when he left the castle and he missed her when he returned, discovering that with her gone there was no one to care about his comings and goings. There was no one to talk to. No one to worry about.

There was no one.

He'd thought only about half a dozen times of going after her, of leaving the castle to find her, or even just checking on her in his cauldron like he used to, but he always found ways to talk himself out of it. Fucking True Love…it could go just as easily as I could come. He had to let it go. He had to.

So he tried. He put her cup away into the cabinet, where he didn't have to see it. He got himself a new tea set made of metal that wouldn't chip. He found reasons to go into the Great Room at times they would never have been together, he went to work in his tower during times that they would have been together. He left the curtains open, unwilling to think of time as "before Belle" and "after Belle". He made his deals. All kinds of deals. All the time. Whenever someone requested him. Even if it was easy or stupid or in the name of love. It was just something to do. It was just something to take his mind off of her.

But it never worked.

He felt Regina the moment that she was on his property. She'd arrived in his tower, as she usually did, probably expected to find him. But he was down in the Great Room. It was the middle of the day. He didn't care. It was a time of day they wouldn't have been together, so that was when he'd decided to leave his work and spin, to make tea, to listen to the empty space where the sound of pages turning should have been.

He hadn't seen Regina in months, not since Belle had been in trouble and he'd gone looking for her in the wrong place. Even after a month without Belle, he was still furious with the witch. So furious that he'd been sorely tempted to kill Robin Hood, "her heart", in retaliation. He'd gone so far as to track him down and found him with his infant son, his wife gone or dead or just missing, he'd never figured it out. He'd resisted killing him though. For one, though his gut told him he was right, he truly had no idea if Regina was the "she" that Belle had talked to, and he'd decided that he didn't want to know. He had to work with her. He still had to use her to cast his Curse and he didn't want it to get in the way. She might have taken Belle from him, but he wouldn't let her take Baelfire as well. Second, if he was destined to be her heart as Belle had been his own, he wanted to give her the opportunity to fall in love with the wretch before he killed him. Daniel be damned. He wanted her to know what it felt like to wait for something and then have it taken away and he wanted it done by his own hands. He'd waited over a hundred years to get his son back…he could wait just as long to take his revenge on Regina. So he'd resolved to leave well enough alone, to continue to work with her as though nothing again changed. But that didn't mean he was going to be overly kind to the woman.

He used a bit of magic to lock the door on the Great Hall. It was a simple spell she could probably break through in a minute. But at least she'd have to work for it. The door did eventually open, just as he'd expected she would, and Regina sauntered in as if she owned the place. He let her despite the fact that he wanted her gone.

"Flimsy locks!" she announced stupidly. If he'd truly wanted her out, he wouldn't have made them flimsy. From now on, when he saw her he had to think of his Baelfire and all she was going to get for him. "I have a deal to discuss. A certain…mermaid…" she pronounced as he turned back to his wheel. Not looking at her helped. A bit.

"I'm not dealing today," he muttered after taking a moment to will the Seer to say something. She didn't, confirming what he knew. The mermaid, whoever she was, wasn't important to the future. That being the case, he didn't really give a fuck about Regina's mermaid. He'd been making deals every day since Belle left, he just wasn't feeling particularly dedicated to helping Regina with something that didn't involve the Curse.

"Are you angry with me?"

Her words forced him to apply so much pressure to his wheel that he stopped it. And when he turned to glare at her over his shoulder, he found she was there, staring back at him. Angry didn't even begin to describe what he felt toward her at the moment. What he felt was too complicated for one word.

"What is it this time?"

He couldn't be sure she was Belle's "she". He kept telling himself that. But he didn't know who else it could have been. Was it the time he'd gone looking for Belle that had tipped her off? Or had that Genie of hers had seen the pair of them in the mirror? He would have liked to know.

"Your little deception failed," he tempted. "You'll never be more powerful than me. You can keep trying, dearie, but you're never going to beat me."

"Is this about that girl I met on the road? Hm…" Regina taunted suddenly; unexpectedly. He kept spinning, kept turning his wheel on and on but only because he knew that if he didn't, he might turn around and kill her right now. Met her on the road…he'd potentially betrayed Belle to Regina when he'd gone after her, he'd mentioned her when he'd forced her to come to the castle to get her glamor removed, he'd stood boldly with her in front of the mirror in plain view of her, but never not once to his knowledge had she ever met Belle. It was her. She'd found her on the road to town. They'd had a conversation, Regina was the one who'd filled her head, who'd poisoned what was between them. Regina was the reason Belle was gone. Without that talk, things might have been normal right now. "What was her name? Margie?"

Baelfire…think of Baelfire..."

Verna?"

"Belle," he spat out without thinking.

"Right," Regina practically growled, as if she was the one who was angry as if she had any reason to be pissed at him. She was the problem, not he. And he couldn't wait to get to Baelfire and teach her a lesson she'd never forget. "Well, you can rest assured I had nothing to do with that tragedy."

He felt his body go cold as he stopped the spinning of the wheel. Tragedy. What tragedy? What had happened here? No one knew about what happened between them. And he felt certain Belle was smart enough not to tell people and draw attention to herself. Why had she used that word?

He left his wheel and moved closer to Regina, who was helping herself to a cup of tea. "What tragedy?"

"You don't know?!" she blanched. "Well," she huffed as if she was surprised. The spoon she was using clattered against the metal tray when she set it down. "After she got home…her fiancé had gone missing."

His heart was already racing by the time Regina spoke, but now it felt as though his chest was squeezing the air out of his lungs. Home! She'd gone home?! He'd felt certain that she wouldn't, that she would have been hurt when she left him, but she was strong. She'd have picked herself up, gone out to see the world. Why would she go home? Why would Gaston's death affect her?

"And after her stay here, her…association with you…no one would want her, of course. Her father shunned her, cut her off, shut her out."

His mouth was dry, but his throat was thick and sticky. Maurice…a coward if he'd ever met one. She'd walked all the way home with nothing, a single dress and not a penny to her name! And then she'd been cast out. She'd be weak. Why hadn't he thought to check on her, why hadn't he thought to send her away with something?! Why hadn't he made arrangements?! It wasn't too late. He could still arrange something. He could find her, he could find someone to take her, he could pay for her pain, pay to make her life better! He could fix this! He just had to do it so that he stayed away.

"So, she needs…a home."

"He was cruel to her!" Regina shouted with a wicked smile. "He locked her in a tower and sent in clerics to cleanse her soul with scourges and flaying. After a while, she threw herself off the tower," she shrugged. "She died."

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't find it in him to breathe or tremble or even cry. The world seemed to have stopped. A second lasted an hour. Was this the same day? Was this a nightmare? Was this some kind of a trick? A terrible joke? Oh, he prayed she was scheming something!

"You're lying," he managed to choke out, unable to care if he showed too much emotion. His knees were shaking, he was lucky he hadn't fallen to his knees.

"Am I?" the Queen questioned without a smile, without wavering, without so much as a twinkle in her eye.

Oh…Belle.

His Belle.

He hurt. He hurt everywhere and nowhere. His heart ached. He felt as though it had exploded from his chest, that it was shriveling up second by second. He wanted to die too. He did. If the words were true he didn't care about killing Regina, for one second, he didn't even care about getting back to Baelfire…he just wanted to be alone and wither away in her chair by the fire.

"We're done," he managed to choke out through some miracle. He was walking. He was walking to the door, and he was using magic to open it for her…but he didn't feel it. He didn't feel the weight of his body coming down on the floor or the thrill of magic in his body. He felt nothing. The room was bright. He felt only blackness. "Fine," he heard Regina spit out. "I have other calls to make."

On her way to the door, she ran her finger over the table and examined it. Dust. He struggled not to wince. Even the dust reminded him of her.

"The place is looking dusty, Rumple." When she stood face to face with him, she sneered and leaned forward. "You should get a new girl."

Regina left. His air left his lungs, the beat in his heart faded, and he doubled over, putting his hands on his knees, a show of weakness he hadn't experienced since he was human. It was only fitting. She always made him feel human. Even in…

Death. She was dead. It didn't seem possible. She was a bright light a strong woman, determined! She'd thrown herself off the tower?! She'd killed herself?! What had she gone through, what had Maurice put her through that she'd broken and given up hope? And she hadn't tried to summon him?! She hadn't even called out to him to help her because…

Because he'd broken her. Just like he broke everyone and everything around him. He'd broken Bae and Milah, he'd very purposefully destroyed whatever Regina might have been to suit himself, and now Belle…

Belle.

His eyes darted to the cabinet, the place that he'd stored her cup, unable to destroy it he'd had no choice but to hide it from sight but now…he wanted that cup. He wanted to be close to her in some way. He wanted to be reminded of her. He strode over and removed it from where he'd stashed it and nearly dissolved into tears the first time it was in his hands again, the first time he laid eyes on that chip. He saw her then, just as perfect and solid as if she was there! He saw the night she'd chipped it all over again, the way her blush had crept up her chest, how nervous she'd been, how beautiful. Oh, if he'd known that he loved her even then…

He moved carefully, step after step from the cabinet to a pedestal, the one that held the phony Grail.

She was dead. She was gone. His memories of her were strong, so strong that sometimes he felt like he could still feel her close to him. She was dead, and the Seer was never wrong. That meant that the images he'd seen in his head, those that he'd been so worried about and sent her away for, were not visions, but merely fantasies. A dead woman couldn't tell him she loved him, a dead woman couldn't bear him children, a dead woman couldn't wake up in the bed next to him, a dead woman wouldn't wear white and make vows. A dead woman had no life. The shoulder he'd seen in the bed beside him, it wasn't her. But oh, how he wished it was. She would have been perfect, he'd have worshiped her! They would have had a True Love to celebrate. A True Love that never really got off the ground. He hadn't felt a thing when she died. True Love had a tendency to do that, they could sense when one life passed. But that was True Love that was allowed to flourish as theirs never had. Because of him. Because he'd feared those fantasies he'd had of her, because he'd let himself have feelings for her and develop a connection. Because he'd let her go, all for a fear of visions that were never to be. He hadn't been there to protect her.

Her death was on his hands.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Small Triumphs

Summary: On learning that his new girlfriend, Belle, has never had an orgasm with a partner before, Gold is determined to give her the pleasure that she deserves.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: “I’m not stopping until you come.”

Rated: E

=====

Small Triumphs

Belle French had always had a somewhat complicated relationship with sex, and she supposed that stemmed from her somewhat complicated relationship with Gaston and her somewhat less complicated relationship with literature.

Having devoured every romantic novel she could get her hands on at an age probably far below that of the recommended readership for such books, she had entered into her teenage dream romance with Gaston with certain expectations of how the wonderful world of carnal delights was supposed to be.

Looking back, she knew that she’d set herself up for disappointment straight away, because Gaston’s idea of a romantic evening was waving to her from the football pitch whilst she froze her ass off in the bleachers.

She really shouldn’t have been surprised when the exciting time had arrived and she was ready to lose her virginity and finally be initiated into the knowledge of adult pleasure that she had only experienced by proxy through Harlequin heroines, only to end up rather… unimpressed by the whole affair.

It had taken less than a minute, it had hurt like hell, and she’d definitely not felt the earth move, let alone seen stars. On asking her entirely satisfied partner ‘is that it?’, he had given her a perplexed look and replied with ‘what else is there?’

When Belle had begun to enumerate the various things gleaned from her books, he’d just laughed, rolled over, and started snoring, and Belle had accepted with a sigh that everything she’d read was just wish fulfilment fantasy written by women who were just as disillusioned as she was.

Being from a small town, it was naturally assumed that Belle would marry her high-school sweetheart, pop out three kids in quick succession, and settle down to life as a soccer mom. Belle, however, had other ideas, because she was determined not to settle down to a life in which she never got to experience a blindingly blissful orgasm. The more she read on the subject, the more she became certain that Gaston just wasn’t the heavenly gift to women that he seemed to think he was, and upon purchasing and trying out her first vibrator, she decided that she could definitely do better.

Cue a move across the country to Boston and a series of disastrous internet dates.

Until she met Alistair Gold entirely by accident, because his son had set him up with a profile to help him meet someone and after laughing through the ensuing confusion, she’d discovered that he only lived a few streets away and they’d agreed to meet anyway. Meeting turned into dating, and dating had now, after a long time, turned into sex.

Half-naked and thoroughly aroused, in bed with a new partner for the first time, was probably not the best time to mention one’s sexual hang-ups, but then, Belle French had always had a somewhat complicated relationship with sex and at least if they got it all out in the open now, then they hadn’t lost anything.

“Belle?” Alistair’s brow furrowed as she pushed him away. “What’s up?”

“I, erm, I’ve never had an orgasm with a partner before.” She wasn’t quite sure why she had admitted it, and certainly not why she’d done so at this moment, but at least it was no longer throbbing away in the back of her mind.

Alistair just smiled, pulling her top off over her head and bending to kiss each of her nipples in turn. Belle groaned as they pebbled under his tongue. His smile was a sly one, hungry almost, as if he’d accepted a challenge.

“Well,” he said, kissing his way down her chest and stomach towards the waistband of her panties, “I say we set about remedying that, darling.”

He sounded so confident in the notion, just as Gaston had always been confident when he had told her that, well, he was having a good time so if she wasn’t then that was on her.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, Belle.” Alistair’s voice was barely more than a growl, delicious and husky and sending a shiver down her spine. Belle had to admit that the circumstances were already far more favourable this time around than they’d ever been with Gaston. She was aroused for a start; she could feel her juices soaking through her underwear. “Belle, I swear I’m not going to stop until you come.”

The words alone made her gasp, and she wondered how her teenage self could have got it so wrong. This was far better than the books had ever described, and they hadn’t even got started properly yet.

Alistair pulled her panties down and off before coming back up her body to press kisses to the insides of her thighs and over her mound. Belle jerked her hips up towards him involuntarily, wanting more and more. When he finally parted her folds and licked a long stripe up her slit, she thought she might have died and gone to heaven. This was definitely what they were talking about when they called it la petite mort.

“Do you like that?” Alistair asked from between her legs.

“Yes. Fuck yes. Do it again, please.”

“With pleasure, my dear.” He licked her again, flickering the tip of his tongue over her clit and making her scream out loud with the sensation. It wasn’t the same as her vibrator; it was just as intense but in a different way, the heat from his mouth adding an extra dimension. He kept touching her, alternating the flicks against her clit with long laps, gradually working one finger up inside her entrance. She was so wet already that she took him easily to the knuckle, making her hips wriggle again. When he said he wasn’t going to stop until she came, he evidently meant business.

It was a strange sensation in a way, being able to give herself over entirely to pleasure. No one, well, certainly not Gaston, had ever put this much enthusiastic effort into foreplay before, not even in the books which had taught her all she knew of slightly more satisfactory sex. Gaston had always considered it a chore, an unnecessary delay before the far more important main event, and he would never have gone down on her at all, let alone as wonderfully and seemingly effortlessly as Alistair did.

A second finger joined the first, pushing in and out gently and curling to tease the sweet spot inside. Combined with his tongue still sweeping circles around her clit, Belle didn’t think that it would take much more before she exploded with lust and desire and the general euphoria of Oh God Alistair That Feels So Fucking Good!

It was only after she’d come down from the blissful high of her orgasm that she realised she’d screamed that last one out loud at the top of her lungs.

Alistair grinned up at her from between her thighs as he slowly pulled his fingers out of her and licked her juices off his hand.

“I’m very glad to have been of assistance.”

“Far more than that, I promise you.” She beckoned him back up to her lips to steal a kiss, and Alistair gladly obliged, his tongue on hers giving her a taste of her own pleasure. Belle reached down between them to cup his hard cock through his boxers, making him groan against her mouth.

“I think it’s time I was of assistance too.”

“Oh yes, please!”

She pushed him over onto his back, his boxers being quickly discarded as condoms were sourced. The head of his cock was already flushed deep red in anticipation, a little fluid leaking from the tip. Belle straddled him, bracing one hand on his quivering belly as she guided him inside.

He was bigger than Gaston, which was hardly surprising given the amount of steroids her ex had been taking to make the rest of him bigger, but Belle felt no pain. She was stretched and full, certainly, but as she began to roll her hips and Alistair’s bucked up to meet her, she was so wet and ready for him that everything just felt right, as if they’d been made from the same mould and designed to fit together perfectly.

“Oh Belle, sweetheart, you’re a bloody angel, did you know that? Oh, Belle.”

Her name became a moan and his hips stilled, his fingers on her waist digging in. It was oddly cute, how quiet he was when he came, but then again, she’d definitely been making enough noise for the both of them.

After a few minutes of panting silence, Alistair opened his eyes, dark with sex, and grabbed the base of the condom so that Belle could let him slip out of her and collapse by his side. He pulled her in close, snaking his arms around her and peppering her neck and shoulders with kisses.

“So, is this it then?” Belle asked, getting comfortable and not intending to let go of her lover unless she absolutely had to.

“What?” Alistair sounded sleepily confused. Or perhaps just sleepy.

“You said you weren’t going to stop until I came. I’ve come now, so…”

She flashed him a cheeky little grin and Alistair just growled.

“Little minx. And no, I can think of several other ways to make you come that I want to try out.” He pinched her nipple, rubbing the pad of his thumb over it as she wriggled with delight.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“So am I. Especially if you’re going to make all those delicious noises again.”

“Yeah. I probably scared your neighbours.”

“Let them be scared. I don’t care if the entire world knows that I have a very beautiful woman in my bed. And if they happen to know that she thoroughly enjoys being in my bed, well, I won’t say no to the ego-stroking.” Belle reached down and palmed his soft cock. “I won’t say no to that kind of stroking either; just give me half an hour to get my breath back.”

Belle just laughed and leaned in to kiss him again. Yes, she thoroughly enjoyed being in Alistair Gold’s bed.

[unapologeticallyjaylos]

jaylos prompt

title: look what the rain dragged in 

pairings: jaylos + malvie

ask: anon asked - “writing prompt: the first time jay realized carlos liked boys”

warnings: some mentions of child abuse/starvation - also some mentions of explicit magazines 

Jay didn’t know what rainy days were like in Auradon - or if they even existed - but on the island, rain wasn’t anything to stare at.

Sure, it made things slick, harder to grab, but Jay still found ways to slip the island’s riches (or recycled trash) into his pockets. After all, his dad wouldn’t accept rain as a valid excuse for a lighter load, and Jay didn’t have any desire to sleep on the wet streets every single time the clouds got tired of holding their water.

Sometimes, the rain worked in his favor, though: it washed blood away; once Mal boiled the water from their barrels, it made for the cleanest drinking water they could hope to get their hands on; and - on the rarest of occasions - it gave Mal’s gang an excuse to catch their breath.

That’s why, when he bounded up the stairs to their hideout and found the other three quietly busy, he had to stop and smile. Evie was stripping old, stained cloth to make bandages, sewing up frayed ends and neatly folding them into stacks on the couch. Carlos was messing with another strange, metal project, flinching every once and awhile when it gave out a strange beep. And Mal? She was spray painting an empty wall, and the familiar hiss and rattle of her paint cans blended rhythmically with the steady pounding of the rain on the roof.

The moment he stepped into the room, all three of them looked up. Mal acknowledged him with a little nod, Carlos smiled, and Evie even offered a little wave. They weren’t friends necessarily, but in quiet moments like these, Jay was man enough to admit that they were something close. The four of them were a little more than simply allies. After all, they were the only members of Mal’s gang that she allowed up here without explicit permission.

“Everything okay down there?” Mal asked, returning to her painting. The wall looked pretty good so far, with thorns and vines snaking all the way down and her signature tag in the center.

“Still pretty quiet.” Jay had been in charge of border check that morning. “There was a scuffle over where our territory meets the pirates’, but not much blood. I think people are using the rain as an excuse to plan shit. Eves, where’d we get all that new cloth?”

“It was on Mom’s reject pile.” She gestured to the fairly large mound of rags. “I figured we can use them for sanitary supplies, too. They’re relatively clean compared to the stuff we got last week.”

“Oh, thank god.” Mal put her cans down to inspect the cloth more closely. “I’m gonna need them this week.”

Evie smiled up at her. “Well, I guess we have my mother to thank.”

“No, we don’t.” The dark fairy curled her lip in disgust. “I won’t thank your mother ever in a hundred years. She doesn’t deserve it.” Jay knew Mal had a weak spot for people who treated Evie poorly (which was pretty much everyone, including her up until a few months ago), but Evie’s mother definitely headed up the top of that list. Last week, they’d found Evie passed out from dehydration at the hands of her mother’s “food and water rationing” to keep her thin, and Mal had been on edge ever since. Even now, the purple-haired girl was carefully stroking Evie’s hair, running her fingers through it soothingly. It was as close to straight up affection that Jay had ever seen her give.

“What’s in your hand?” Carlos asked from his place at the table, finally putting down his contraption.

Jay had been so caught up in admiration for his team that he’d nearly forgotten what he’d brought for them. “I have bread,” he grinned. He held up a loaf of bread with his left hand. The side was a little soggy from the rain and there was a tiny bit of mold on the crust, but it was enough for all of them to have a pretty big chunk. At the sight of it, the other three sat up a little straighter, their faces lighting up. “And some entertainment.” In his right, Jay held a magazine snatched expertly from the most coveted shelf in his father’s shop.

“Is that porn?” Mal raised an eyebrow, looking from the magazine to the bread and back to the magazine. “Shit, you really came through today.”

“What can I say,” Jay laughed. “Some days are better than others.” He handed the bread to Evie, who pulled a knife out of her waistline of her skirt and began to cut it neatly. “Dad’s gonna lose it if he realizes I stole one of the magazines. They’re his best selling item. But I figured we could use something to look at while we ate. And this is a new one! It came out only two months ago on the mainland.”

The four of them sat on the floor, each with their own thick slice of bread, and laid the magazine out where they could all see it.

“Damn.” A smirk played at the corner’s of Mal’s mouth as she opened the first page, looking on in approval. “She’s hot as hell.”

“You think all naked girls are hot as hell,” Jay reminded her, earning himself a punch to the arm. “Just telling the truth, Dragon Girl.”

Evie stared at the the women, her perfectly lined lips parted slightly. That was another thing they’d learned pretty quickly about Evie Grimhilde; she loved girls almost more than Mal did. “Look at her… fuck… I don’t know if I want to be her or do her.”

“Why not both?” Mal grinned, giving the princess a little wink.  

Even Jay had to admit the model was pretty damn sexy. Her muscles were toned nicely, and Jay wet his lips a little as he stared. He glanced over at Carlos, expecting to see at least a blush or some sign of arousal, but although the other boy was studying the woman intently, he didn’t seem to be attracted in the slightest.  

Interesting.

Jay turned the page, and both Mal and Evie sat a little closer to stare at a new girl in a new pose. Evie sighed heavily, and Mal looked on hungrily, as if she could actually somehow get to the model on the page. Jay grinned appreciatively, enjoying the sight just as much as the other two. But a quick glance over at Carlos told him that the other boy still wasn’t getting the same amount of pleasure from it.

The gears in Jay’s mind began to turn. In fact, when Mal flipped to the next page, his mind was focused more on Carlos’ reaction than the women with her legs spread on a bed of - what were those, roses? Once again, Cruella’s son didn’t blush or even shift like he had a boner.

Doubly interesting.

Whenever they’d gone out to tag-team the market place, Jay had always given Carlos female marks to try and flirt with and steal from, and the other boy had never said a thing. Most people on the island weren’t picky about the sex they were getting - from boys, girls, themselves - but he’d never thought about what he’d do if Carlos liked boys. Mostly because… Carlos was hella cute. And definitely lethal. And - if Jay were totally honest with himself - he’d had a few not-so-appropriate thoughts involving the other boy every once and awhile when his mind drifted.

Jay’s suspicions were confirmed on the next page. This time, a male model in an equally lewd position got a reaction from the boy sitting three feet away. His cheeks flushed pink under his freckles, and he bit his lip in a very attractive way.

“Holy shit,” Jay muttered, a small grin on his face. Carlos de Vil definitely, without a doubt liked boys.

Mal rolled her eyes. “We get it you like guys with big dicks.”

Jay didn’t correct her. He’d talk to Carlos about his new discovery later.

When the bread had disappeared down four hungry throats and every page of the magazine had been poured over, Mal sent everyone back to work. After all, they couldn’t sit around and stare forever. There were food runs to complete, market scans to conduct, and territory disputes to settle. In fact, she and Evie left a few minutes later to hunt down the older Gaston twins, who had made the mistake of interfering with a supply run the week before. Jay knew the two brutish boys would definitely have matching broken noses when they decided to return to school. The thought pleased him, as did the vacated warehouse, which provided an excellent opportunity to approach Carlos.

“Hey, Pup?”

Carlos - who had gone back to working on his device - glanced up. “Didn’t Mal ask you to finish stripping those bandages for Evie?”

“Yeah.” Jay huffed and began to pick up where the princess had left off. He could work and talk. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Really?” The other boy raised an eyebrow, looking suspicious. “What?”

“Would you rather me give you male marks when we go out into the market?” Jay asked, the cloth between his fingers ripping satisfyingly.

Cruella’s son blushed, his eyes widening a little. “Oh - uh -”

“It’s totally cool, dude. If I’d known, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” Jay really didn’t need him to confirm anything. He already knew. Carlos liked boys. And that was more than fine by him.

“That’s -” Carlos swallowed hard, his cheeks flushed again. “That’s okay, actually. I think I’ll be a better pickpocket if I’m not totally flustered. And stuff. So girls are fine. For stealing from, at least.”

“Mmm, that’s pretty smart, de Vil.” Jay gave him a small grin. “You’re kind of a genius, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” The other boy’s cheeks were growing pinker by the minute.

They returned to their work, the conversation going quiet between them. Every once and awhile, though, Jay could catch the other boy moving his gaze quickly, like he’d just looked away.

And Jay smiled.

He now had a deeper understanding of Carlos de Vil, and he certainly liked the possibilities hinted at by those honey-eyed stares.

Maybe, just maybe, things were about to get interesting.

[emospritelet]

Key to the Cell - chapter 6

Gaston is a tool of the highest order in this chapter by the way.

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [AO3 link]

x

By the time Belle had finished the book on the Dark One and read the first few chapters of the curse-breaking book, it was early evening, and she was hungry. She stuffed the books under her pillows and rang the bell for one of the maids, announcing that her headache had gone and requesting help with her dress. The maid brought her something to eat, too. It was too late for luncheon, and dinner would be prepared as soon as the men returned from the hunt, so she ate a small sandwich and drank two cups of tea, after which she felt much better. She checked her hair in the mirror, and grasped her parasol before making her way downstairs. She needed to think, and a stroll in the fresh air would do her good.

The sun was beginning to set as she went out into the gardens, the drone of bees coming from the flowers as they made the most of the fading light.  Pinkish clouds striped the horizon where the sky was turning orange, and Belle heaved a breath of perfumed air as she walked slowly between the flowerbeds. Gaston’s estate had delightful gardens, but she suspected that had more to do with his desire to show off his wealth and status than his own appreciation of them. Certainly on the few occasions when they had walked there and she had commented on the plants and flowers, he had seemed less than interested. She smiled to the gardeners gathering up their tools as she passed, the parasol keeping the setting sun from her face.

The book on the Dark One had been fascinating, but she still didn’t know his true name, and the fact was galling. It had said that the Dark One had been around for centuries, perhaps thousands of years, but that his form changed, the title and its powers passing with the help of a mystical dagger. Belle suspected that it was the dagger with the fluted blade she had seen illustrated in the book she had used to summon him. She wondered if he had it, or if that too had been taken from him. The book hypothesised that the Dark One passed on his powers through some sort of dark ritual, that all those who sought to possess the power were dark wizards of great strength and evil. Belle wasn’t sure how true that was; he had not seemed so terrible to her, after all, but she supposed he would not be called the Dark One for nothing.

There was little known about who the various Dark Ones were before they took his form; the current holder of the powers was rumoured to be able to change his appearance at will, after all. Belle wondered at him describing himself as revolting; if he could change his face, why had he chosen to show her one he appeared to loathe? Overall he was a puzzle, and she was highly intrigued. She only wished there was a way she could speak to him again before their agreed meeting the day before the wedding. There was no guarantee that, having kept his side of the bargain, she would ever see him again.

The distant noise of barking dogs made her glance around, and she saw the hunt returning across the fields to the south of the castle, Gaston’s huge bay stallion at its head. Some way behind him, her father was trotting along with Gaston’s hunt master, and the beaters and kennel-keepers followed on foot, the hounds weaving in and out with tails held high. Belle could see the bodies of two deer slumped across the horses, and several of the men carried hessian sacks over their shoulders, no doubt full of game. Sighing to herself at having to leave the peace of the gardens, she made her way down towards the gatehouse to greet them.

The party had split by the time she reached it: hounds and horses gone to the kennels and stables and the servants to the kitchens. Gaston and Maurice had just dismounted as she entered the courtyard, the horses’ hooves ringing on the cobbles as they were led away. The air was heavy with the scent of dogs and horses, of sweat and blood, and Belle felt a little queasy.

“Ah, here she is!” announced Gaston, in his booming voice. “Belle, my dear! A successful hunt! We’ll eat until we burst tonight, eh Maurice?”

He burst out laughing and tossed a bag towards her. It fell open as it hit the ground, two dead pheasants rolling out, heads lolling. Blood spattered the cobbles, and Belle took a step back, trying to ignore the pheasants’ sightless stare. She met Gaston’s eyes, raising her chin.

“I’d like to talk to you about something, Sir Gaston,” she said. “Would you take a walk with me in the gardens?”

Gaston folded large arms across his chest, breathing in as he looked her up and down very deliberately.

“So polite and formal, my wife to be,” he said agreeably. “The picture of innocence and purity, waiting patiently for me to return. You’ve done well with her, Maurice. Very well indeed.”

Belle’s mouth thinned, but she said nothing as her father chuckled and made some comment about her taking after her mother. She waited, hands folded at her waist, and after a moment Gaston slapped Maurice’s shoulder, making him stagger, and strode towards her. She took a step back, struck by how large he was. He over-topped her by a good eighteen inches, and was twice as broad across the shoulders. She wondered what had made her think of it; it wasn’t as though they were meeting for the first time. No doubt most women would find his size and strength appealing, but it had only ever had the effect of making her dread the wedding night. Gaston grinned at her, showing very white, even teeth.

“To the gardens, my Lady,” he said, offering his arm.

After a moment she put her hand on his thick forearm, allowing him to guide her. She could feel his sweat beneath her palm, dust from the ride sticking to her fingers. It made her want to pull her hand away, but she kept her face smooth, maintaining a steady pace as they made their way towards the gardens.

“I went into town today,” she said. “I met a beggar woman there.”

“I’ve told the Watch to clear the beggars out,” he said. “Leave it to me, you won’t be bothered again.”

Belle frowned.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she said. “Her name was Gerta. She said she owned a smallholding by the river. She said she and other smallholders had been turned off their land and that it had been given to the brewers for grain. She called it the clearances.”

“Oh.” Gaston waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, I remember. This is what I suggested for some of your lands, when we join them to mine. It’s been a success here.”

“She said her husband was killed.”

“Well, some of them put up a fight,” he said. “My men had to defend themselves.”

“Were any of your men killed?”

Gaston burst out laughing.

“Against a bunch of poor farmers? Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Then they were hardly in danger, were they?”

He glanced at her, brows drawing down into a scowl as he realised she was arguing the point with him.

“I can’t have peasants thinking they can just disobey my decisions without consequence,” he said, sounding petulant. “It’s not like they weren’t given notice to go.”

“Where would they go?” she demanded. “You took all they had!”

“Just goes to show their way of life would never turn a profit, then, doesn’t it?” he said. “We’re producing far more grain on those lands now. More efficient. Those little strip farms produce almost nothing.”

“Well, Gerta certainly has nothing now, she and her children are begging on the streets!” said Belle. “I told her to come to the castle and I’d give her work.”

Gaston turned to face her, his expression incredulous.

“You can’t give every waif and stray a job, Belle!”

“There’s more than enough work here,” said Belle obstinately. “If you hadn’t made her homeless it wouldn’t be necessary.”

“I can’t be held responsible for every penniless whore in the kingdom!”

“You are responsible,” she snapped. “You’re the lord of the land! And these will be my people too, and I can’t stand by and watch while they starve!”

“Belle…” He shook his head, putting his hands on his hips. “Don’t be so naive. This is how the world works. Weeding out the weak is what keeps our people strong. It’s like breeding horses. You must understand that.”

“These are people!” she said hotly. “Not - not livestock!”

“And why do we keep them here on our lands?” he asked, as though teaching a rather stupid child. “To work the fields and clean up after us and fight in our wars. They can’t do any of that if they let themselves starve, can they? What use are they to us if they can’t look after themselves?”

“How can you be so callous?” she demanded, throwing up her hands, and he sighed, grumbling a little.

“Well, if you’re going to be hysterical about it, I see no reason to discuss it further,” he said coldly. “Come inside. Save your energy for the ball.”

Belle drew herself up to her full, rather unimpressive height, lifting her chin.

“I won’t attend a ball with someone who thinks so little of other people!” she snapped. “I won’t stand there and smile and laugh and pretend your values are the same as mine, Gaston, I won’t do it!”

He seemed to swell before her eyes, eyes darkening, face grown ugly with rage, and he seized her by the upper arms, his grip tight and painful enough to make Belle let out a cry.

“You think you can make a fool of me in front of all the nobility of the kingdom?” he spat. “You think I’d stand to be shamed in my own castle by a - a girl? Your father already promised me your hand, and I will have it, Belle! I will have you for my own and I will have your obedience, do you hear me?”

“If you expect me to just ignore the suffering of—”

“I expect your loyalty!” he said roughly, shaking her, and Belle tried to pull away, tears pricking her eyes as his fingers dug into her upper arms. Gaston tugged her closer, leaning in until his nose almost brushed hers. The stench of sweat and blood from him was almost overwhelming.

“You will attend the ball on my arm, Belle,” he said, through his teeth. “And you will smile, and you will dance, and you will show everyone how lucky you are to be marrying the most eligible man outside the King’s palace, do you hear me? Or by all the gods I’ll make those peasants wish they’d never been born, do you understand?”

He shook her again, and Belle squeaked in alarm, nodding swiftly in the hope that he would let her go.

“Tell me you understand!”

“Yes!” she squeaked, hating the sound of her voice, the fear in it.

“Yes what?”

“I - I understand,” she stammered, and he exhaled, relaxing his grip a little.

“Good,” he said, more calmly. “That’s all I want. A faithful, dutiful wife. A beautiful woman to support me and to bear my sons. That’s what your father promised me, and that’s what you’ll be. Isn’t it, Belle?”

She couldn’t speak, her body frozen with fear, and he bent to kiss her, his mouth rough and wet against hers, tongue pushing into her mouth. Her eyes flew wide at the intrusion, but she couldn’t seem to move, to push him away. When he pulled back there was saliva on her chin, and she was shaking with shock and terror. Gaston was breathing heavily, and released her arms, taking a step back from her.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said, and strode off towards the castle, leaving her standing frozen in place, as though his hands still held her captive.

x

Belle wasn’t sure how she managed to get back to her room, but once she was there she rang the bell for one of the maids and stood in front of the standing mirror, still trembing. Turning this way and that, she winced as she saw red marks on her arms where Gaston had grabbed her. For a moment she thought about trying to hide them, but then shook her head at her reflection, raising her chin. She would let her father see the marks. Perhaps there was a way out, even now. Maurice had not accepted any of her objections to the match before, but if she showed him evidence that Gaston had hurt her…

Marilee noticed her bruises immediately, of course, but to her credit, she didn't comment on them. She dressed Belle in blue silk, the colour making her skin seem even paler, the bruises more pronounced.

"Would you care for a shawl, milady?" she asked.

"I would not," said Belle shortly. "Is my father dressed?"

"I believe he's in the library."

"Good. You can just tidy my hair, I don't need it restyled."

"Very good, milady."

Marilee smoothed her hair where it was needed, re-pinning the strands that had come loose, and Belle nodded her thanks. The maid seemed to hesitate before she left.

"Best to give him what he wants, milady," she said eventually. "Easier on you. Easier on all of us. Her Ladyship worked that out long ago."

She left without another word, and Belle glared at her reflection in the mirror, seeing spots of colour bloom in her cheeks to match the marks on her upper arms. So. No help from the servants, it seems.

She pushed back, heading downstairs to the library. Maurice was looking through a large book filled with pictures of exotic birds and animals, and he glanced up with a smile as Belle strode up to him.

“I can’t marry this man, Papa,” she said resolutely. “I can’t do it.”

Maurice closed the book with a sigh, glancing across at her and looking uncomfortable.

“Now, Belle, we talked about this—”

“He hurt me!” she went on. “Look! See those marks? That was him!”

“Gaston told me what happened,” said Maurice gently. “The two of you had a lovers’ tiff and he got angry.”

“It wasn’t a lovers’ tiff!”

“He’s a big man, Belle,” he went on. “He doesn’t know his own strength. He feels terrible that he might have hurt you, he told me so.”

“Well, if he feels so bad, why didn’t he apologise to me?”

“I’m sure he will,” said Maurice soothingly. “You’ll see him at dinner, and this can all be smoothed over, I’m sure of it. It’s just pre-wedding nerves.”

“But - but I don’t want to marry him!” said Belle desperately. “Why can’t I marry for love?”

“When you show no interest whatsoever in the eligible men you’re introduced to?” said Maurice, his tone short. “I think not. You will marry for the good of our family, as I had to. As every noblewoman in this land has had to. Gaston is not a monster. He’s a fine, healthy, handsome fellow, and he’s extremely rich. Any woman would be lucky to call him husband.”

“Then maybe you should marry him.”

“That’s enough!” snapped Maurice, wagging a finger. “I sometimes think I give you too much licence to speak your mind, my girl!”

“Oh yes, may all the gods save us from a woman with an opinion!”

“One more word out of you and you’ll be eating dinner in your rooms alone!”

“Good!” snapped Belle. “At least then I can be assured of pleasant company!”

She stomped out before Maurice could retort, skirts swishing around her legs, and headed for her room, slamming the door shut once she was inside. Irritation made her pace back and forth before the fire, and eventually she strode to the tall windows, opening them out and stepping out onto the stone balcony to breathe in the cold night air in an attempt to calm herself.

The sun was fully set, the sky a rich, deep blue, scattered with stars. Belle leaned on the stone balustrade and gazed upwards.

“Gods, let me out of this marriage!” she whispered.

The stars twinkled at her, bright points of light in the darkness. One of them had a bluish tint to it, and Belle blinked as it grew larger. She pushed up straight, palms pressed against the cold stone, and her mouth opened in surprise as the blue light became a small figure, glittering in the dark. A fairy, wings fluttering behind her. She had dark curls, pinned up on top of her head, and was pale-skinned and pretty, a wand held in one small hand with a blue light shining at its tip. She was smiling at Belle, white-stockings covering slim legs hanging in the air beneath the wide skirt of a sparkling blue dress.

“Lady Belle of the Marchlands,” she said, her voice sweet and melodious. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.”

“You have?” Belle took a step back, unsure how to proceed. It wasn’t as though they could shake hands. “Forgive me, I’ve never met a fairy before. I’m not too sure of the etiquette.”

She dipped a curtsy anyway, and the fairy bowed her head in acknowledgement.

“I’m the Blue Fairy,” she said. “Head of the Enchanted Forest Order of Fairies."

So this is the Blue Fairy? She's not what I expected.

"I don’t believe you were ever assigned a fairy godmother, is that right?” asked the Blue Fairy.

“Not - not as far as I know,” said Belle. “Is that unusual?”

“Most noble children receive our protection and guidance, but our numbers are limited,” said the Fairy. “Decisions must be made about the best use of our resources. Yours is a minor House, is it not?”

Belle felt her mouth thin. It was true that her House was somewhat diminished from what it had been in her great-grandfather’s day; the lack of sons over the past three generations and King’s wars had not helped matters. She still had pride in her ancient family name, though, and resented the implication that she had not been worth bothering with as far as the Fairies were concerned.

“So why have you come to me now?” she asked, and the Blue Fairy smiled, gently stroking the wand across her palm.

“I sense that you are not reconciled to your coming marriage,” she said pleasantly. “It’s customary for brides to be nervous, of course, but I thought I might be able to help give you some comfort.”

“It would certainly comfort me if you tell me I do not have to marry Sir Gaston,” said Belle.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Belle sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Then I foresee little comfort in this encounter.”

“This marriage is the right step,” persisted the Fairy.

“For whom?” asked Belle. “For the man who has a - a heartless disdain for his own people? For the man who - who left bruises on my arms when I dared to contradict him?”

The Fairy sighed, fingering her wand and making the light at its tip bounce and weave.

“He is a crude and rough man, to be sure,” she said.  “But his is a noble House, and you could teach him to be better.  Teach him to be more gentle, more kind.”

“Is that certain?” asked Belle, with some scepticism.

“There are no certainties in matters of the heart.”

“In which case it sounds like unnecessary suffering on my part.”

“You must have faith,” said the Fairy, beaming at her.

“And if all I get for my efforts is abuse and violence, what then?”

“Sacrifice for the greater good is the mark of a true hero,” said the Fairy, smiling serenely. “I see the need in you for adventure, Lady Belle. But there are different kinds of adventures in this life. Different challenges that women can face. Helping your husband to be a better man takes patience and courage. Is that not a heroic thing to aspire to?”

“And what of my own dreams?” asked Belle. “My desire to see the world, to travel, to study…”

“That may come, in its own time.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Think of the greater good,” persisted the Fairy. “If you can change this man, think of how many lives could be bettered by it! Think of what you can teach your children, how they in turn may influence their father for good.”

“So it’s not just me that would be expected to teach him how to be a decent person, but also our children?” said Belle flatly. “Where is his responsibility in all this?”

“In order to change, one must first face their own faults.”

“Gaston doesn’t believe he has any,” said Belle. “He never has. Marrying me wouldn’t change that.”

“You may be surprised at what a kind influence can accomplish.”

“In that case, why have the Fairies not sought to influence him before now?” asked Belle. “Surely his parents should have been given this talk?”

“We watched over him as a boy, and his mother raised him with love,” said the Fairy. “We did not anticipate that his own pride and selfishness would win out over her gentle nature.”

Belle sighed, and the Fairy flew a little closer.

“For better or worse, Lady Belle, you will marry Sir Gaston,” she said. “If it helps you to reconcile yourself to the fact, try to think of the needs of others before your own.”

Belle wanted to bristle at that, but said nothing.

“And this is my fate?” she asked. “To wed this - beast?”

“Think of it as an opportunity to save him,” said the Fairy soothingly. “True love can conquer all darkness.”

“And who decides on who is worth saving and who is irredeemable?” asked Belle. “If love can conquer darkness, why do I see so much evil in this land? So much - callous disregard for the suffering of others?”

“Pain is part of life,” said the Fairy.

“Only for some, it seems to me.”

“Everything happens for a reason, Lady Belle,” she said. “You must trust in the light winning against the darkness. We all must play our part.”

Belle frowned as she remembered something from her reading.

“True love,” she said slowly. “They say it’s the most powerful magic of all.”

“Oh yes!” said the Fairy, smiling widely. “Powerful enough to break any curse. To melt even the hardest heart and fill it with love. Imagine all you could do with that love.”

Belle smiled to herself, and nodded briefly.

“Thank you,” she said. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“I’ll see you again very soon,” the Fairy assured her. “I’ll attend on your wedding day to bless the union.”

Belle bowed her head, not trusting herself to give a response that would sound genuine, and when she raised her eyes again, the Fairy had gone. She frowned at the empty, darkened sky. Save Gaston from himself, indeed!

Turning around, she went back inside, closing the windows after her and drawing the curtains across. It appeared that everyone from her father to the Blue Fairy expected her to marry Gaston. Only the Dark One had promised her a way out, and by the gods she was going to take it!

[rumbelleshowdown]

Unpathed Waters, Undreamed Shores

Author: Moody Orange Prompt: This gifset

The rain was steady, constant. A thick curtain separating Belle from the safety of the village. The nearing sounds of thunder and flashes of light were promising that it was only going to worsen.

The cave they’d found shelter in was spacious enough, but the walls were damp and the air muggy and thick. The cave wasn’t the problem. The rain, only a symptom. No, her current issue was the man she had been forced to take shelter with: The Light One, Purveyor of Truth, Peace Bringer and Hope Maker, the Exalted One and Only Rumplestiltskin of the Front Lands.

As far as Bell is concerned, the man was nothing but trouble.

If not for him, she would’ve already tracked down the Yaoguai and defeated it, like she promised Mulan she’d do. If not for him, she would have made it back to the village before the storm hit, and be curled up in the inn with her book and a cup of tea, content on a job well done.

If not for him she’d have never found cover, either, but considering it was his fault she got caught in the storm to begin with she was electing to ignore that. It was all the Light One’s fault. All of it.

Thunder sounded in the distance, closer than before. The Light One stared straight ahead into the curtain of rain, unseeing. There was anxiety at the corner of his eyes, in the squeeze of his hand on his hilt. At every flash, every rumble, his grip tightened.

Belle, sitting as far into the cave as she could, was tired of pretending not to see him flinch.

“Not a fan of storms?” she asked.

He answered with the glare. Rumple was at the mouth of their shelter, leaning against the wall. If she were feeling charitable, maybe she’d offer to sit with him, or invite him closer to her.

“You have magic,” she pointed out. “You could whisk the storm away with a thought.”

“The price isn’t worth it,“ he sniffed.

Right. She rolled her eyes. He was always going on about how magic had a price. A steep one too, if you weren’t careful. It sounded very arbitrary to her.

“What’s the price for something so simple?“

He snorted. “Simple.”

“It’s just a storm,” she said, resisting the urge to throw a rock at his stupid head. “You’re said to be the strongest user in all the lands.”

“It’s not a matter of—look, it’s the logistics of the thing, okay?”

Belle stared at him. She was wet, sore, and trapped in a cave with the last person she ever wanted to see again. She was not in the mood for his half-answers. “Logistics.”

He sighed. With the forced calm of someone explaining for the thousandth time, he said, “The storm has to go somewhere, doesn’t it. Contrary to popular belief, things whisked away by magic don’t just disappear into nothing. They all go somewhere.”

“But that would mean you can’t create, either” Belle said, interested despite herself. “If, say, I wanted a book, or an apple, or—anything—magic couldn’t create it for me.”

“That’s...trickier.” He rubbed the side of his face. “Far easier to summon what you need. Less costly, too.”

“So what’d be the cost of ending this, then?”

“It’s not just a sprinkle of rain.” He grit his teeth as thunder sounded, loud and crushing above them. “Maybe I could wave my hand and break the clouds up, but this is the elements we’re talking about, a literal force of nature. It would take a lot of magic to even touch it. And—” he said, before she could interrupt. “Magic doesn’t take the price outright. It’s not a previously agreed upon transaction. Any number of things could happen, the least of which being I cause a drought because my magic is keeping any storm from forming at all.”

Belle leaned back against the wall, a frown deep on her face. It made a lot of sense, really.

“So you’re telling me that the great and mighty Light One can’t do away with a simple storm. Hm.” She hated how petulant she sounded but couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“I am saying,“ he said with exaggerated patience, “it’s best to just let things be as they are.“

“Right,” she scoffed. “Because that’s the most important thing.”

“Belle…”

“Don’t call me by my name as if—“ she swallowed, throat tight. “—As if we’re. Friends.”

The Light One turned away, saying nothing.

For a little while, at least.

“How is your leg feeling?“

Belle shifted. “No worse than before.” The pain wasn’t gone, but the makeshift brace he had put her in was holding. She could tell it was going to heal straight, at least. That deflated her a little—here she was, trying to pick a fight after he carried her to the cave and bound her leg. He had used magic, too, must have for the pain to have receded so much in the time they had been here.

“So elemental magic isn’t worth it,” she said, happy to hear her tone was less waspish, more genial. “But Mr. Best-To-Let-Things-Be thinks healing magic is fine?”

She waited for him to explain, perhaps to explain that the shock and pain of the injury was enough to pay for anything, let alone a little faster healing (it made sense to her), but he kept staring moodily out into the rain.

“What am I paying for it, anyway?” She tried again.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

She pursed her lips, starting to get annoyed. “It’s my leg, I should know the cost.”

“My fault.”

She scoffed. “So is us getting caught in the rain but you’re not doing anything about that.”

“Belle, please. I’m happy to pay for this myself.”

She sighed. Bickering was only worth it when the other person was willing to engage. So what if he wanted to pay some nebulous price for healing her broken leg. Which he broke. Indirectly. She was the one who slipped.

But if he hadn’t been there, appearing in the woods of the East Lands, of all god damned places in the world just when she was finally—

“Why did you come back?”

His brows drew together in confusion. “This is my first time in the Cherry Oak Woods.”

Belle made a frustrated sound in her throat. “I mean—”

She waved her hand, gesturing between them as if that was the answer. He continued to look at her, not catching on.

That was just as well. What a stupid question; why come back. He never did come back, that was the problem, had always been the problem.

God, she was so foolish. So stupid. What a stupid girl.

Belle bit her lip to keep it from trembling. No more tears, she promised herself. Not over him.

And she wasn’t stupid—it had taken quite a lot of smarts to make it this deep in the woods, this close to where the Yaoguai was hiding. Quite a lot of bravery, too. The only one willing to come with her had been Mulan, but she couldn’t leave her post at the village, not when she was the only one defending it.

The Light One was still looking at her, waiting.

His hair was longer, a little more grey, but otherwise he looked exactly the same as when he appeared at her town. Same leather jerkin, same deerskin gloves. He didn’t look like a knight, certainly not like a powerful magic user. But his eyes were hard as steel, and warm as a summer rain. He knew such amazing things, could tell her stories of far off lands and kingdoms she had only read about in her books.

It was inevitable she’d be drawn to him like a breeze to an open window. She needed to stop blaming herself for that.

But it hurt when he’d walked away as if nothing between them mattered. As if she didn’t matter, like she was just another face in a long line of admirers.

“If you didn’t want me, you could have just said so.” She spoke to the cave wall in front of her, the stone craggly and uncaring.

He sighed, like he was expecting this. She was more than happy to deliver. “Belle—”

“You didn’t have to kiss back.”

“It’s not like that.”

“If I offended you somehow by inviting you to my room—”

“Just surprised me, not—”

“You shouldn’t have agreed to meet me if you were just—”

“I couldn’t take that from you!” He shouted, voice filling the space around them.

“Take what? I was offering!” She snapped back.

Belle turned to look at him. His face was red, his mouth open, teeth bared. She had liked his teeth, how they were a jagged line. She’d wondered what it would feel like to have them nip at her neck or shoulder, had wanted desperately to find out.

Rumple was the one to break the silence. “I didn’t want you—“

“Clearly.”

“I didn’t want you,” he said again, forcefully, “to give me something so precious out of misplaced gratitude.”

If Belle could stand, she’d have stormed out of the cave right then and there, weather be damned. “I did not,” she said, voice cold, “invite you to my room because I was grateful.”

“You don’t know what you were offering,” The Light One insisted. “What it’d have done to you.”

“Done to me.”

His blush was deepening, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. “I don’t make it a habit to leave ruined women in my wake. Just because I saved your town from the ogres doesn’t mean I get to bed the first pretty maiden who—”

“Ruined me?” her mouth opened, then closed. Of course that was the issue. Somehow she thought him above man’s fixation on a woman’s purity. “What makes your dick so special?”

It was his turn for his mouth to open, then close. He opened it again, but the only sound to come out was a very confused, “Ah?”

“I haven’t had a maiden head in years, Rumple,” Belle said. She narrowed her eyes. “You knew that, though. You were there when Gaston called me—”

“I know what he called you.” He shrugged, looking lost. “But—but Belle—you were a lady! The heir! The woman that everyone looked to for strength and guidance! Far too good for a man like me to—to—”

“To fuck?”

He made a distressed noise in the back of his throat.

“...Have sex with,” Belle amended. She watched him pull at the neck of his jerkin, likely questioning his high collar.

“It was wartime,” she explained. “Our land had been ravaged and despite what my father would have us believe, our stronghold couldn’t last. That kind of thinking tends to mellow even the most straight-laced traditionalist.”

Rumple nodded. He swallowed. “I didn’t, uhm. Realize the full. Nng. Circumstances. I apologize. I made a choice for you, and—I shouldn’t have.”

Belle looks down at her lap. She flexed the toes of her broken leg, first forward, then back. No pain at all.

“Think of all the fun we could have had if you’d just talked to me instead of running off.”

He huffed. “I do.”

She blinked. “What?”

He turned to look at her, his eyes soft and warm like sand pooling in her hands. “I’ve missed you,” he admitted, his voice a breath louder than the rain.

Something inside her chest unclenched. “I’ve missed you too.”

He stood, his figure impressive in the small cave. He walked over to her, slid down the wall so they were side by side. Rumple held out his hand, hesitating as if unsure she’d take it.

Belle wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip through her fingers, so that’s exactly what she did. That is, slip her fingers through his. She squeezed. He squeezed back.

“You’ll be safe to walk in another hour or so,” he murmured, leaning down to place a gentle kiss to her temple.

She hummed, pleased. They sat for a long moment, Belle leaning into his side, him leaning into hers. He didn’t flinch when the thunder rumbled.

“How did you come across the Yaoguai?” she finally asked. “It doesn’t seem quite your style.”

Rumple raised his eyebrow. “King Hubert of the Rose Kingdom got in touch. His son disappeared around the time the first reports of the beast came through.”

“Did he try his hand at hunting it?” Belle sit up a little straighter. She loved a good mystery. “Wait, the Rose Kingdom? Do you mean Prince Phillip?”

“Yes. You didn’t happen to meet him…?”

“No, sorry. But I know a friend of his. Mulan said he was visiting her when—when he vanished. She was distraught.” It took a lot to crack Mulan’s outer shell.

Belle bit her lip. “If only we had been sooner. The Yaoguai is a fire demon. It won’t come out for days after a downpour like this.”

“We’ll wait it out, then go back to the village. We can regroup there and decide our next action.”

Belle kissed his jaw. He let her linger before turning his head and capturing her lips with his.

“Together?” she asked when they broke apart.

“Together.”

[every-last-inch-of-me]

Brew Buddies || Marginally Catholic

Backdated: 29th July - shortly before the bar re-opened

Gaston reveals his most recent project to Claude.

[tw: alcohol]

@hellfire-damnation

GASTON: 

The brew was coming along quite nicely. Sure, Gaston wasn't expecting the first run to be amazing. He'd tried to follow his father's recipe as closely as possible, or as close as his blasé response to existence would let him. But it was the sort of thing that you perfected with time and found your own way with. Nevertheless, he expected it to be good, at least. And regardless of the taste, it was the thought that counted and, with any luck, the end result too.

Plus, he was kind of looking forward to the look on Claude's face as he revealed his grand idea.

He tied the blindfold around the priest's eyes. It was no more than an old, long sleeved shirt, but it did the job. Of course, he did own an actual blindfold. But it wasn't the kind he thought would be appropriate for a member of the clergy. Or appreciated, for that matter.

"No peeking," he said as he tightened the knot at the back of Claude's head and checked the eyeline to be sure the other man couldn't see. "And tread carefully. I don't want a dead blindfolded priest in my pub. That would look dodgy."

CLAUDE: 

Gaston had called him after one of his last masses and asked him to come down to the pub when he was through. He hadn't explained why, just that he needed him to come 'round. The priest had gone once the church was closed up for the evening. 

At the back of his mind, he was expecting something about renovations. Perhaps a bit of haggling about the horrendous animal heads all over the walls. But, no, he had not been expecting a blindfold. 

Claude snorted quietly, a hand curled around Gaston's bicep as the other man came around to check his sightline. The material of the shirt was soft, granted, but it gave no room for light to peek in. It was a tad disconcerting and, with anyone else, save for maybe Sally, his skin would be crawling. "It looks 'dodgy' now Gaston," he muttered, tugging a bit at the knot where it was digging into the back of his head. "Why all of this? I feel like I am being marched to the basement to be murdered." 

GASTON:

In hindsight, Gaston thought as he felt the priest's fingers tighten around his arm, perhaps this was not the best way to do things, considering Claude's history. Of course, he thought he trusted him. Or hoped he did at the very least. But the voice in the back of his head wondered briefly if it wasn't all that  good for the other man's anxiety.

Ah well. He'd done it now.

He let out a quiet huff of laugher and shrugged his shoulders. "Murder's a bit much. But I've had enough of you so I'm selling you into slavery," he said as he began to lead the way through the bar and into the back room where the door to the cellar waited. "Hope you don't mind." A smirk pressed into his lips and he twisted the key in the lock until it clicked open. "Or maybe I'm going to show you my brand new sex swing, because I know just how much you'd be interested as the most sexually active member of town," he teased, hoping the sarcasm sank through the blindfold. It would be unfortunate if it didn't.

CLAUDE: 

Despite the anxiety that bubbled up under his skin, Claude found himself laughing and shaking his head. It was a rather off-color quip but it had done the job of making him relax. "I am afraid I do. So sorry to spoil your plans, mon cher. I would be terrible at it anyhow. They'd bring me make, ask for their money back." 

His laughter only got louder as he followed the other man, wrinkling his nose at the mental image assaulting his brain. A key turned in a lock and it was entirely too loud in the quiet, with his eyes acting as good as they would have if he were blind. That is to say, not at all. 

"Oh, oui? The new one with the ropes," he shot back, brows arching as he grinned and nodded his head in mock understanding, "I thought you would never, Gaston. A truly awful crime." Shaking his head, Claude let the comments on his sexual history roll off his shoulders. He was a priest. Of course, Gaston was right, but that did not mean he'd never had sex before becoming ordained. A wicked little smile spread across his face before he spoke again. 

"Ties work just as well, Gaston. You did not have to go to such trouble just to ask to be tied up. Some people would probably gag you for free." 

GASTON:

A huff of laughter escaped him and he shook his head. Gaston was well past the point of being scandalised by anything the priest said or did, if Gaston was capable of being scandalised by anything at all. Those kinds of jokes were, he had long realised, a simple attribute of the man's personality and not one he was going to turn his nose up at. After all, he'd said far worse and, in the end, priesthood didn't ban a person from having a sense of humour. Not that he'd care if it did.

"Painful reality of being this good looking: everyone wants to do kinky things to me," he shrugged as a smirk teased at the corner of his mouth. "Besides, who said anything about tying me up?"

He tucked the key back into his pocket, stepping away a moment as the door peeled open and a curl of cool musty air escaped into the room. "Mind out." Stepping in front of the other man, his hand lay gently on his elbow to guide him down. "There's stairs."

CLAUDE:

The priest snorted at the man's quip, feeling the shrug against his side as Gaston moved. A creak followed the movement and Claude shivered again, the cool draft of wherever they were headed sending chills down his spine. The hand at his elbow didn't make him flinch because he was expecting it. His own hand came up to feel for a railing, knowing that there had to be one if there were stairs. 

Unless, of course, they were out of code. Then he could very well be plummeting to his death. 

"You know," he said conversationally, "this would be much easier if you took the blindfold off. Or let me. Or, better yet, I took it off for the stairs and then closed my eyes so you don't yell at me. And so I don't break my neck." 

GASTON:

His arm offered itself forward as he watched the man grasp for a rail that wasn't there. The stairs to the basement had been huge, stone things, made before people thought about health and safety. His parents had never installed one because it had always been just them. And he'd never installed one because he was too damn lazy.

"Why would I do that? Ruins the fun of a blindfold if you take it off when things get difficult," he said, stepping backwards and guiding the man with him towards the quiet whirr of the drums. "Watch out." He braced his arms a little for extra support. "That step has a brick missing."

CLAUDE: 

Heaving a sigh, the priest left off on his search for a hand railing when all his hands found was empty air. Instead, he curled one around the arm at his side, something to balance on when he took a step down the stairs. 

They made it a bit of the way down before there was a subtle shift and Gaston's arms were twitching, his voice warning him of a missing brick. Claude felt himself nod, edging a toe over the edge of the stair to feel around for the next, hoping to bypass the missing chunk altogether. He would have considered jumping it but not knowing where he would land, or how, made the choice difficult. Claude felt a frustrated whine building in the back of his throat and sighed again. 

"Why could you not employ a trust fall and team building exercises like a normal employer, Gaston? Oh, no, that was too easy wasn't it? Of course not. Instead, you had to walk me down the stairs with a blind fold." Claude's gripping was half-hearted at best but the breath that caught in his throat when his foot slipped and the curse that echoed around the room there were descending into was not. 

Any other complaint, however, was stopped by the whirring of machines. Claude recognized the noise, magnified through the loss of his eyesight, but he could not place wear. Tilting his head, the priest listened for a moment, chewing on his lip as he tried to place the sound. 

GASTON:

"Don't you trust me already?" He laughed, quicky grasping the other man's sides as he slipped. Though, if he'd been any closer, Gaston reckoned he'd be deaf by now, as the sound of his voice reverberated around the room. Really, he probably should have warned him that his foot wasn't on the step properly, but he'd been too busy smirking at the look of concentration on the priest's face.

"One more step and we're there. You can listen all you want when you're not on some damp stairs, yeah?" He said, lowering himself onto the basement floor and gently pulling Claude with him. 

Hopefully the priest would be impressed. He hoped he would. This was possibly the first time in his life that he'd actually tried for something. It was definitely the first time he'd studied for it. Even if that was with someone else's notes.

CLAUDE:

"You know if I did not I would not be down here," he grumbled, fingers still tight where he had a grip on Gaston's forearms. "I just don't particularly like the feeling of falling." Even if he hadn't it was still a shock to the system. Blind as he was with his eyes covered, everything else was doubled, including that sensation. 

Huffing a bit at the comment, Claude nodded and allowed himself to be pulled down the last stair to the ground floor. Removing his hands from where they'd been balanced, Claude reached up to loosen the blindfold, fingers edging the cloth down his face to hang around his neck. 

Allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom, the priest sought out the sound he'd been listening for, edging forward with a glance at the other man when curiosity got the better of him. He could see the hulking mass of what appeared to be equipment of some sort. Running a hand down the side of one of them, Claude tilted his head to peer at the labeling stamped on it's side, eyes widening in surprise. 

"Where did you get all of this," he murmured, turning back to the other man with a look of surprise on his face. 

GASTON:

For all his dramatics, the barman had rather been hoping to do the bit reveal himself. Rip the blindfold off and expose to the world his amazing idea. But, as it were, a simple 'taa daa' sufficed, as the makeshift blindfold slipped from the man's face and hung against his shoulders. His eyes followed him to one of the tanks and he tucked his hands into his pockets, leaning a shoulder against a damp wall.

"My dad had some before. He used to do most of the brewing for the pub so I thought I'd give it a go. Just looked up the brand and got some new ones delivered," he answered, as his eyes flicked between the great, whirring barrels and made his way to one end of the room where they kept some free glasses. "Want to try some?"

CLAUDE:

Claude felt his mouth curl into a small smile at the other's quiet 'taa daa.' Fiddling with the fabric around his neck for a moment, the priest listened as Gaston moved closer, hands in his pockets, explaining.

"Your father was a brewer, then. Did you follow his recipes, Gaston?" Looking at the barrels, it was not a hard thing to picture. Claude had learned that, while the other man did not often speak of his family, there were things there that Gaston could never quite rid himself of. The bar, and all of its contents and responsibilities, was one of those things. 

So, he nodded, offered the man a smile and followed behind to the room with the spare glasses. 

GASTON:

Gaston paused a moment and quirked his lips. "I guess you could say that," he called over his shoulder, as he plucked two empty glasses and made his way back. It wasn't entirely accurate. His father had brewed. But he'd also made wine from time to time - the kind that could take off your teeth and strip the paint from walls. And above all, he'd loved to cook. Most of the plates on the menu had been decided by his father, and they'd stayed - for all but the fashionable foods, that came and went with the seasons.

Really, in Gaston's eyes, there wasn't a single word to describe his father. He had simply been a lover of all things consumable.

He went to the nearest barrel, the first batch, which had already soaked the hops and been settling for just under a week now, and poured the glasses, watching as the beer came out a glistening gold. It looked good. And smelled good, which was a start, at least. 

He passed Claude his cup, as he put his nose to his glass and took in the aromas. "If it's any good," which he expected it would be, "I'm thinking of selling it for about a fiver. Give half the proceeds to charity. Like the church and that."

CLAUDE: 

"Could I? I did not know him. I would not know if it was accurate." He gave a little laugh, shook his head, and sucked in a breath. "My father grew wine grapes. He was a vintner, but I remember so little about him I would not know where to start. I was told once, by an older woman I used to live by, when she came into the church, that I reminded her of him. She said he was always so quiet, looked at things before he did them. I do not know how accurate that is either but," he shrugged, "I suppose that is what I have."  

Still, he watched as Gaston plucked a glass from the wall they were suspended on, walking back over to the nearest barrel. Watching curiously, Claude accepted his gold-filled glass with quiet thanks. The beer smelled good, hops apparent, though Claude drank so rarely he would not have known how much or how little of it was there. 

Raising a brow at the price, the priest raised his glass in a half-toast before taking a swallow, nearly choking on it when he truly registered the rest of what Gaston was saying. Eyes widening in surprise, Claude wiped at his mouth after his coughing fit, shaking his head. 

"Gaston--what? Why? You do not need to do that. If you give it to anyone, give it to a charity only. The church does not need it." Well, perhaps they had, or would, but the notion that he may not be there to allocate the money to what it truly needed to be put towards soured the idea. "At least...not now. Choose a charity and send it to them or change it every month. Allow the patrons of the bar to choose, even. Allocate it towards town." Anything else. 

GASTON:

Gaston lowered his glass and folded his arms as he listened. "You? Quiet?" He let out a soft huff of laughter. He might have agreed that Claude was pensive, perhaps. But never quiet. For as long as he'd known him - which, he'd admit, wasn't massive amounts of time - Claude hadn't shut up once, for all the comments and the quips and the teasing. 

If quiet came, it was a mauldin thing, heavy with sorrow and past memories. And even then, the quiet was fairly loud.

For a moment, his brows furrowed as the man choked into the drink. Really, he'd thought he'd been doing a good thing. For all Claude's efforts, the church was an old thing that he imagined would always need refurbishments. And he'd slipped in at the wrong moments enough times to know the sheer sum of support groups it held.

"What so they can use it to fund a bunch of murderous werewolves? I was going to give it to you because at least you'd know what to do with it. I don't. The pissheads who spend all day in my bar don't."

CLAUDE:

Rolling his eyes and sighing through his nose, Claude elbowed the other man with his free arm. "As a child, yes. It was a new place, new people. You learned to adjust but...the quiet always stayed." He shrugged a shoulder a bit, eyes focused somewhere around Gaston's collarbone. He sipped at the drink in his hand for a moment before peering into the brew. 

"How long have you been brewing this?" The machinery was loud. Granted, so was the bar, but after everything was quiet it should have been audible. He was going to ask another question but then he stopped, turning to look at the younger man for a moment. Trying to gauge him, his words, to understand why he was giving him all of this. 

"Give it to a charity for abused children in London, then," he murmured, watching Gaston's face. 

GASTON:

Gaston crinkled his nostril and took a sip of his drink. Whoever this Quiet Claude was, he'd certainly never met him and frankly, he didn't want to. In Gaston's mind, quietness was not a virtue but a hindrance. In some ways though, he supposed he should be flattered that the other man felt comfortable enough around him to be a talkative pain in the arse.

"About three and a half weeks." It still needed to be properly kegged or bottled - depending on how he decided to sell it - before he started making another batch. But with any luck, if it sold, he'd be able to keep the cycle up for a while. Perhaps buy more tanks if it was necessary. 

"But ok. Child abuse charity it is," he said, raising his glass to the prospect. "Santé."

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 8/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Gold arrives home from the palace, in a less than pleasant mood, and asks a very important favor of Jefferson.

Notes: I promise Gold and Belle are going to start getting closer soon, and we're going to get a bit more of Jefferson's backstory as well. For the 31 Days prompt #8: snow.

[AO3]

Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

The trip home from his visit, four days later, did nothing for Gold’s mood.

His leg was killing him, and he longed to stretch out in his own space and drink tea made in his own house. The previous night had seen a chilling rain move through the region, leaving some portions of the road even bumpier than usual, and with an added slickness that made the carriage slow to a crawl at several points. He grumbled about it, but an injured horse was the last thing he needed, so he told himself to stuff his impatience and keep quiet.

Thornhill was a welcome site as they came around the bend, and he sighed. He was not fit company at the moment, but Bae was already out front, waving as the carriage rolled through the gate. Jefferson was next to him, but no one else, and he felt a small tinge of disappointment that Belle wasn’t there as well. No doubt she was glad to be rid of him for the week, and it was just as well, since there was now the matter of sorting out what had gone on between her and her previous fiance, Sir Gaston, that triggered a slew of rumors being spread around the royal court.

The scowl on his face must have conveyed all the information that was needed, because his own son took a step back, suddenly shy and nervous in the presence of his father, and Jefferson was suspiciously reticent.

“Bae,” Gold said tiredly, holding out his arm. Bae came forward and hugged him tight, and he exhaled heavily. “Did you miss me?” Bae shrugged, the corner of his mouth turning up, and Gold bent to kiss the top of his head. “Of course not, probably too busy causing trouble with Moreen and Grace.”

That perked Bae up a bit, and he immediately stepped back, shaking his head and looking affronted. “Nuh-uh, it was Grace who broke the dish, not me!”

Gold raised his eyebrows and shifted his gaze to Jefferson, who hung his head and sighed. The weight on his shoulders lightened a bit as he laughed, and Bae giggled too as wrapped his arms around Gold’s waist again and squeezed. Gold let out a grunt and feigned injury, but he was smiling too wide for it to be believed.

Coming home to his son had always been a balm for his soul, no matter how arduous the journey.

“Sir,” Jefferson said, “There’s a small matter that needs your attention; a letter that’s arrived from Mr. Humbert, but other than the incident with the plate, it’s been quiet.”

“Good,” Gold mumbled, reaching into the carriage to take out his satchel while his cases were unloaded from the back of the carriage. “Have those taken to the laundry. I need to change and freshen up, and then I’ll see you in my library, yes?”

Jefferson gave a short nod and a half bow as Gold strode into the manor.

A brief wash and a change of clothes made Gold feel marginally better.

Jefferson came to see him after an hour, at which point he’d already read through the letter from Graham Humbert, caretaker of one of his properties to the west, and reviewed the rest of the correspondence that had come in while he was gone.

“So it seems the issues with the orchard are continuing,” Gold said with a sigh as he let the letter fall to the desk.

Jefferson nodded glumly and mirrored him from the sofa near the fireplace. “At this point, we’re not sure what we can do. We may have to let some of it go fallow for the next year and see if it improves.”

Gold frowned. “That will reduce the yield even further. The King will not be pleased.”

“It’s already at a five year low,” Jefferson said with a shrug. “And the King, as you’ve said before, can ‘sod off unless he’s willing to get down in the dirt with the regular people.’”

That earned Jefferson a momentary smirk. “We have extra stores and extra funds, but we may need most of it to get through the winter. They’re still saying it will be one of the worst in a decade.”

The two men sat in silence for a few minutes, until Gold stood up. He moved to the fireplace and prodded at the logs as Jefferson watched him thoughtfully.

“Let’s hear it,” Jefferson said, stretching his arms out along the back of the lounge.

Gold frowned over his shoulder and then set the iron poker aside. “Hear what?”

Jefferson gave him an exasperated look. “Whatever it is that’s bothering you. It’s been evident since you returned.”

Gold exhaled and nodded, then moved to sit across from Jefferson in a high backed leather chair where he put his feet up on the ottoman.

“King George, he - he mentioned Lady Belle’s first engagement.”

Jefferson’s head tilted. They had both known that Belle was supposed to be married to Sir Gaston and that after only two months the whole thing had fallen through, but the particulars had never been divulged. Gold laid out every detail of what the King had said, his hand curling into a tight fist as he recounted the implication that Belle had taken other suitors and perhaps tried to entrap multiple eligible men into marrying her by getting pregnant.

“Ridiculous,” Jefferson said, his usually gentle voice sharpened by derision and irritation. “Lady Belle is far too sweet for any of that nonsense. She doesn’t have a manipulative bone in her body!”

Gold’s fingers tapped against the leather arms, drumming lightly on the brass rivets that went along the sides and front. He wanted to believe Jefferson was right, but something was nagging at him about the whole situation, beyond that his new wife was being talked about at court so distastefully.

“You don’t believe it, do you?” Jefferson sat forward, frowning. “You can’t, it’s - it’s -”

“Undetermined,” Gold finished.

Jefferson sprang to his feet, flipping his long coat out behind him. “What?”

Gold raised a hand to settle his friend and stared into the fire. “Something happened between her and Gaston, and now Gaston is spreading lascivious rumors, but -”

“But what?” Jefferson nudged Gold’s feet aside and sat down on the ottoman, facing him. “It bothers you that you don’t know the truth, and you won’t feel like you can trust her until you do?”

He huffed out a breath and closed his eyes before nodding slowly. “I don’t like it, but I can’t shake it.”

“You could ask her you know.” Gold looked up, eyes wide, and Jefferson shook his head. “It’s the simplest solution, and she has a right to know that she’s being slandered.”

“Yes, I’m sure that will go over well.” He looked from Jefferson back to the fireplace. “My Lady would you be so kind as to tell me all the terrible details of how your first engagement was broken and nearly ruined your family for good?”

Jefferson snorted. “Well, I imagined you’d be a little more tactful and eloquent than that, but if you want her to throw a teapot at your head, then so be it.”

Gold swallowed and looked down at his hands as he fiddled with his ring. “You could do it.”

“Pardon?” Jefferson leaned forward and dipped his head to catch Gold’s gaze. “I’m sure you’re joking.”

“You’ve done it before, it’s -”

“No.” Jefferson stood again and crossed his arms. “We agreed that was over. No.”

“Jefferson, please -”

“Cameron!” he hissed.

Jefferson’s eyes were wide and pleading, and Gold felt a pang in his chest. He knew that asking this might damage their friendship forever, but he needed to know the truth if he was going to trust Belle with everything. With his son. More than that, he felt an obligation to protect her reputation, now that he’d participated in sullying it. If there was something in her past that could be used to harm her in the future, and it brought harm to Bae as well, he’d never forgive himself.

“This is for Baeden, not me,” Gold said softly. “I have to know. I don’t want anything to be used against her, and if it’s all bollocks as we think it is, then I want Gaston to pay for whatever he’s done to her.”

Jefferson took a breath and leaned against the mantle, resting his head on his forearm. The heat from the flames warmed his leather boots until they felt like they might melt before he straightened and then turned to Gold.

“Fine,” he said evenly. “But this is absolutely the last time.”

Gold inclined his head. “Agreed.”

“And,” he continued, “Grace gets Hampton House.”

Gold’s eyebrows lifted and his mouth opened in a soft ‘oh.’ “Making a deal, dearie?” Jefferson’s glare could have stopped a bear in its tracks, and Gold sighed. “Fine, yes.”

Jefferson gave a quick nod and tugged on the lapels of his jacket. “Good.”

His steps were sharp as he walked to the door of the study, and Gold sagged in his chair. “It was going to be hers anyway.”

Jefferson stopped at the door and turned around, meeting Gold’s gaze as he leaned around the side of the chair. “Hampton House. I was going to wait until she was sixteen and sign it over to her. Pretty young girl, with a sharp wit, a house, and an inheritance all her own? She could marry anyone she wanted.”

Gold pushed up and stood to face Jefferson. “I just want my boy safe and cared for, the same as you want for Grace.”

“And Belle?”

Jefferson’s stare was hard, and Gold nodded solemnly. “Her too.”

They seemed to agree on that, and Jefferson left without another word. Gold dropped back into the chair and leaned forward, his face in his hands as he breathed in and out steadily. He hated asking his friend to do such a thing, especially after their shared history, but he needed to know the truth and Jefferson was the only one he trusted to do it discreetly and thoroughly.

With another heavy sigh, he pushed to his feet and rang the bell for the maid. He would take his dinner in his room as he was even less fit for company now than when he arrived.

Jefferson stewed for two days before he got down to the business of making inquiries about Lady Belle and Sir Gaston’s engagement.

He started by trying to prod Belle into just telling him what had happened, but all his subtle hints went unnoticed, and he was afraid to be more blunt for fear of pushing her away. He had come to respect and care for Belle in a very short time and was happy to consider her a friend. One day he was certain they’d be dear friends, and he was glad that Bae and Grace would have her in their lives. Both children had lost their mothers young, and while he and Gold did they best they could as fathers, he knew having a mother was a different thing entirely. He hoped that Belle might be that for them, the kind, strong, and caring figure they needed later in life.

He did manage to find out that Belle’s mother had also died when she was young, barely passed eleven, and it solidified even more that whatever stories were being told about her were untrue. She was far too good for all of that nonsense, but there was a hint of something in her countenance that was closed to him. He began to understand where Gold’s fear had originated, but he got the sense that whatever it was, it wasn’t known to anyone but herself.

That morning, he sent out letters to a few key contacts at the royal court, making small inquiries after Sir Gaston. He knew the man wasn’t well liked overall, and assumed it would be easy to find where the bodies were buried, hopefully only metaphorically.

He had just finished calculating the staff’s wages for the month, when Belle came into the downstairs study.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, starting to back out of the room.

“No, no, do come in.” He set the ledger book aside and returned the pen to its holder. “I was just finishing up.”

She eased back into the room, and he smiled. Her dress was a delightfully bright and springy yellow with white piping at the edges and a scrolling pattern of pearls around the bodice. The lace around the hem had clearly seen better days, but that was easily remedied. Ms. Potts was an excellent seamstress, as were two of the younger ladies, but he thought that fairly soon, she’d probably have a whole new wardrobe if she wanted it.

“So,” she started, drawing out the ‘oh’ sound, “how are you?”

“I’m well, you?” He moved from the desk to a chair near the window and gestured for her to take the other.

Belle shrugged. “Well, I suppose.”

He frowned. “That’s not very convincing. Would you like to try again?”

She gave a short laugh and then sighed. “I haven’t seen, um, Gold today. Or yesterday. I’m starting to think he’s avoiding me.”

Jefferson sat back, the fingers of his left hand fiddling with the buckle at the top of his boot as he absorbed that bit of information and made a mental note to speak to Gold. “He’s always a bit grumpy when he comes back from the palace, I wouldn’t take it personally.”

“It’s a bit hard not to,” she admitted. “Is he...grumpy often?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Only a little more than everyone else. There’s a lot of...pressure from the King to help keep things in order.”

“Ah.”

Jefferson remained silent for a long moment, but when she didn’t say anything more, he reached for her hand. She startled at bit at his touch, and he gave her a small smile.

“Are you alright?”

She took a breath, and then pulled her hand away. “I’m fine.”

“Again, not very convincing,” he said, starting to grin. “You would make a terrible actress.”

Belle gave him a momentarily scowl and then shook her head. “I’ve never been good at lying, I couldn’t get away with so much as a muddy shoe print on the rug as a child, and I had no siblings to blame it on.”

Jefferson laughed softly. “I’m afraid that at one time in my life, lying was as easy to me as breathing.” Belle frowned at him and he sighed. “That, I am happy to say, is all behind me.”

She smiled and rested her hand on his, giving it a light squeeze, and he felt his stomach sink. Lying was still entirely too easy for him, it was just that he actually felt the effects of it now, the guilt of it all burning its way through his soul. He reminded himself that this was better for all of them in the long run.

“The other day,” she began, “last week, actually, when - when we met in the garden?”

Jefferson swallowed. “Yes?”

“I, um - well, before that, I came out of my room and I heard - I heard you and - and Lord Gold.”

He blinked and something clicked into place as she nibbled on her bottom lip. He and Gold had one of their spirited arguments that everyone at Thornhill was more than used to, but it occurred to him that someone new such as Belle wouldn’t know the kind of relationship he had with his friend and employer. She wouldn’t understand that Gold’s snappishness and sarcasm was well matched with his own, and that there was never any offense meant. He’d only been trying to coax Gold into being honest with Belle about his situation and Bae’s, which he’d given up on for now.

“Ah,” he said finally. “Well, that explains things.”

Her head tilted. “I don’t understand. He was so -”

“Loud?” he offered. “Abrasive? Rude?”

Belle shifted in her seat. “Um…”

Jefferson chuckled. “All three?” She gave him a sideways look and then nodded. “Oh, darling, don’t mind him. We’ve always been like that with each other, and truly there is no offense meant or taken. I was pushing him to do something, and he was pushing back, that’s all.”

She seemed uncertain and began to pick at a loose thread on her skirt. “Oh. Well, I’m sorry I overheard.”

“Did it...scare you?” he asked, sitting forward.

“A bit, maybe.” She looked out the window and then back to him. “I barely know him, and I didn’t know what to think.”

His look was soft and sympathetic, and he reached for her hand, pressing it between both of his. “His bark is far worse than his bite, that I can promise you. He’s like an old toothless dog.”

That made her laugh, and he grinned, basking in the lovely sound. Lady Belle of Avonlea was truly a gem, and he knew that once they dealt with this nasty business with Gaston, that all would be well.

“I was actually looking for him earlier,” she said. “I was hoping we could - we could talk.”

He patted the back of her hand and agreed. “Yes, I think that would be a very good idea.

Belle leaned her forehead against the cold glass, watching as the little puffs of breath from her nose fogged the window.

What Jefferson had said about his relationship with Gold seemed truthful, and she felt better having said something about what she heard, even if it she had yet to broach the subject with Gold. Since he’d returned from King George’s palace, he’d been keeping to himself and the few times she tried to seek him out, he seemed to be well secluded somewhere in the house.

Jefferson insisted that if she was honest with Gold, he would be honest with her, and while she had no reason to doubt it, the thought of confronting Lord Cameron Gold about anything seemed daunting.

Do the brave thing, her mother’s voice echoed.

She let out a heavy sigh, obscuring the view momentarily. At the bottom of the window, snow had begun to accumulate, and she shivered before turning away from the window to draw the curtains.

[kelyon]

Golden Cuffs Chapter 6: The Price

In which the Dark Castle BDSM AU actually has a sex scene!

Read on AO3

Belle didn’t realize she had been asleep until she woke up. When she first opened her eyes she saw nothing but darkness. Home was never this dark--they always left the fire burning or the windows open in her bedchamber. Little Claude was always afraid of monsters in the dark.

What monsters were around Belle now? She shook as she tried fruitlessly to look around. Was anyone else in the cell with her? Was he there, close enough to pounce on her without any warning? Was the cell even real anymore or had she been transported to void of blackness?

Jolting up, Belle braced her hands against the wooden bench. It was solid beneath her palms, she could feel the grain. She had been sleeping on that hard surface, which was why her body ached. The bench was real. She couldn’t see it, but she could trust it.

Gingerly, she let her feet touch the ground. By rights a prison should have rats, but Belle heard no skittering and felt nothing furry around her toes. There was only stone under her slippers. Still sitting, she placed her feet solidly on the floor. That was real too.

Moonlight filtered in through the narrow windows. Her eyes had adjusted enough to see it now. It was a weak, fading light--it must be late enough that the full moon was setting before dawn. But the silvery light was enough to help Belle make out the dimensions of her cell. The wall in front of her was lightest, she could see the shadowed outlines of the bars at the window. The darkest corner was by the door.

Would he actually use the door? Or would he just appear as he had in her father’s study?

The Dark One was going to ravish her tonight, Belle knew it with a sick certainty. These were her last moments as a virgin. He was going to demand her body, make her pay the price for his help.

“Glad to see you’re awake!” His voice was so loud and so unsettlingly cheerful it made Belle jump. She didn’t want to be afraid, but dread had seeped into her bones along with the cold night air.

“See me?” She forced her mind to focus on his words, forced herself to think about anything besides her nerves. “You can see me? In the dark?”

“It’s called magic, dearie.” He sounded amused. “You’ll have to get used to it.”

How was could she get used to a thing like the Dark One? If he could see in the dark, what else could he do? This creature obeyed no laws of nature and had no concern for anyone. And she was entirely at his mercy.

“Are you ready to begin, girl?”

How could anyone be ready for this? How would she even know if she was? Would it matter if she told him she wasn’t? Why had he even bothered asking?

“How does this start?” Belle heard the fear in her own voice. She pressed her nails into her palms and let the pain steady her. She couldn’t be afraid. Not now.

“It starts,” his voice moved toward her and he pressed a heavy object into her lap, “with you drinking this.

Belle touched the rounded object, and felt that she was holding a goblet. The outside was warm to the touch and a strong scent of herbs wafted up from it. “What is it?”

“Well, it’s mostly poison, but it will save your life.”

She flinched and almost dropped the goblet on the ground. “Poison!”

“But very healthsome!” He giggled.

Belle rubbed her fingers against the smooth cup. A healthy poison? A deadly draught that would save her life? “What kind of riddle is this?”

“My kind,” he said. “But let me answer it: This is a potion that will keep your body from conceiving a child.”

Belle blinked. Was even that possible for him? Was there nothing the Dark One could not do? She hadn’t thought about children when she had given him permission to take her. But of course if they were to act as a man and woman, it made sense that children would follow.  It repulsed her to think that her body would even try to make a child with this creature. Perhaps it disgusted him too, and that was why he was giving her a poison that would only kill his spawn.

“Will this really save my life?”

“Birthing is a nasty business, dearie. Birthing a demon even more so. I advise you drink.”

‘Advise’ but not ‘order.’ He had placed the goblet in her hands but had not commanded her to drink it. “Do I have a choice?”

“Tonight, everything you do is of your own free will. Tomorrow, of course, will be different.” He giggled again and Belle felt her belly coiling at the sound.

She looked down at the goblet she couldn’t see. It would be a sad and lonely future for her to never have any children. But how terrible, how dangerous would it be to quicken with the offspring of this monster?

It was a choice that was no choice. Belle put the goblet to her lips and drank. The potion was warm and the warmth filled her, from down in her belly to the top of her head and out through her fingers and toes. The taste was creamy and medicinal, sour-sweet like unripe fruit. Belle’s mouth tingled from the magic and she swallowed a few times to remove the sensation.

When the cup was empty, she held it in front of her and felt him take it away. There was a brief flash of blue light as he made the goblet disappear.

“Good girl,” the Dark One said softly. “I’ll make that for you every month. When the moon is full, your womb will be empty. Do you understand?”

In the darkness, Belle nodded.

“Now we must talk.”

He sat down on the bench with her, but far enough away that they only touched when his knee bumped against hers. She could see him faintly, a shadow in the darkness. The outline of his shoulders made it look like he was facing her. But he made no move to touch her. How strange it was to find this creature deferential, when Belle had expected only violation.

He cleared his throat but didn’t speak. Belle didn’t know how to respond. If only she could see him more clearly! So much of the Dark One’s manner came from his expressions and his bodily movements. In this darkness, Belle had only his words to guide her and when he was silent she was completely lost.

After a moment, she screwed up her courage and asked. “What did you want to talk about?”

When his voice came, it was so soft and calm it might have been coming from a different person: “I have done,” he said, “what you asked me to do. The ogres are gone from your land. The wounded soldiers have been healed, the dying saved from the brink of death. Across your kingdom, the barns are filled with grain, the storerooms overflowing with salt meat and harvest fruits.”

In the cold cell, Belle’s heart grew warm. “Really?” She found herself smiling. “You did it? Already?”

“Did you doubt? Have you ever heard that Rumpelstiltskin doesn’t keep his end of a deal?”

“No, I--”

“Never mind,” he sighed. “I know how it is. A beast has no honor.”

“But you did it!” Relief poured over her like the summer sun. “You saved them!”

Overcome with happiness, Belle reached out and tried to grasp his hands. She wanted to thank him, to invite him to share in her happiness.

But her hands fell upon nothing. She heard the Dark One slide across the bench, as far away from her as possible. Dimly, she could the shape of him get smaller, shrinking back from her touch.

“We-ell,” he stretched out the word, and she could hear him sitting up straighter. He spoke as though she had never reached out to him. “Perhaps I did. Or perhaps it was you.”

Confusion overshadowed Belle’s joy. Why didn’t he want her to touch him? Wasn’t that the whole point of her being here? “What difference does it make who gets the credit?”

“It’s not about credit, my dear, it’s about what kind of story people will tell. It could be that you sacrificed your virtue and your dignity and your body in order to save your people. Or it could be that I was testing you. It could be that I might take a smaller price for my service.”

A smaller price? Did that mean that he would let her go? Without using her or harming her at all?

“But… I made vows to you. We agreed on what the price would be.”

“Vows are broken every day, child. Just ask that boy with the sword.”

She had broken her engagement to Gaston, but surely a contract with the Dark One was more binding. “But if I back out, if I refuse to pay your price--what will happen to my people?”

“That’s where the story changes. Instead of you sacrificing yourself to save them, I did it out of the goodness of my twisted, blackened heart.”  

Belle shook her head. “But that’s not a story anyone would tell. No one breaks deals with you.”

“Our deal will be different, even if you decide to keep it. But you know what you swore to me, child. Do you truly want that life--this life? Darkness and dungeons and pain?”

When had it ever mattered what she wanted? She had been all but sold to Gaston in exchange for his help against the ogres and when he had proved incapable, she had made a deal with a high power. All she had wanted was for her people to live. Her future belonged to the man who had made that happen.

A darker thought crept into her mind: She was ruined already. She had broken her engagement, she had pledged herself to the Dark One. She had kissed his boots. Her own father had witnessed that debasement. The Dark One had taken her away. No one would believe her if she said he had done no more.

What future would she have if she went back? What man would marry her? What type of woman would she have to count as her equal now? What respectable person would even look her in the eye? At best she would be shut away and grow old as an unmarriageable spinster. At worst she would be cast out to the streets, a fallen woman.

If she stayed… Truth be told, she couldn’t imagine what would happen if she stayed, and that alone was a fascinating prospect. Would a lifetime of being taken and hurt and misused by the Dark One be any worse than the shame of going back?

“We made an agreement,” Belle said. “It would be wrong to give you any less.”

In the darkness next to her, Belle heard a faint exhalation of breath, almost a chuckle, but more surprised. “Very well,” he stood up. “Don’t say I never gave you a chance.”

For just a moment, they stayed like that. She sat on the bench and looked up at his outline. He stood before her and she hoped he was looking at her. This was it, Belle thought. This was the moment she could never turn back from. He had given her a chance to run, and she had chosen to stay.

When he spoke again, his voice was more lordly. “You can only do something for the first time once,” he declared. “It is my intention to do this as well as I can.”

Belle stood up to face him as best she could. “That is my intention as well,” she said.

“Really?”

“I can’t go back to my old life,” she said. “If this is to be my future, then I want to be good at it. I want to please you, Dark One.”

In the darkness, she could feel him step closer to her, close enough that she could hear his breathing. “It would please me,” he said huskily, “to hear you say my name.”

It was bad luck to say the name of the Dark One. Everyone knew that. If you said his name, he would see you, and come to you, and make a deal that you’d end up regretting. But that had already happened to Belle. Their deal was made. He was here, now, in front of her, asking her to say his name. What else did she have to be afraid of?

“Rumpelstiltskin,” she said softly.

The sound that came from the Dark One was something like a sigh. “Thank you,” he whispered. Then he cleared his throat and became imperious again. “I will demand no honorifics from you. I am your owner, but not your master. If you want something from me, if you wish to beg for mercy or ask for help, then you will call me by my name and I will hear you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Belle said.

“No, not even that. What I am does not require respect, only fear. Just say ‘Yes, Rumpelstiltskin.’”

“Yes, Rumpelstiltskin.”

“Good,” his breathing was heavy and she felt the heat of his hands on her face. “Good girl. Now let me look at you.”

His fingertips were smooth and warm. His fingernails did not press into her skin as they had when he had grabbed her to take her away from her family. Now he held her gently by the chin, tilting her face this way and that, seeing her in the darkness. His touch was light, but certain. He was controlling her movements, even if he wasn’t using force. It was the first time he had touched her since the war room.

Belle allowed herself to be scrutinized. It did irk her that she couldn’t see his face while he was examining hers. She wanted to know what he thought of her. Was her appearance pleasing to him? People always complimented her on her prettiness, but what did the Dark One find attractive? What did he want her to be?

“Beautiful,” he said as his touch relaxed. He kept his hands on her jaw and neck. “You are well-named, Belle.”

He spoke the word deliberately, drawing attention to the fact that this was the first time he had ever used it. Belle felt a shiver go up her spine to hear her name in his mouth.

“It’s funny,” she said. “Unitil this moment, I didn’t think you knew my name.”

“I make it a point to know a little about the people I make deals with.”

That was thought that made Belle’s heart pound. “What else do you know about me?”

“I know that you are brave,” he said softly.  Still touching her throat, he stepped to stand behind her. He pushed her hair over her shoulder and ran his hands down the back of her gown. “I know that you were desperate.” He unlaced the gown and set to work on her corset. “And I have a sneaking suspicion that you might be odd.”

“Odd?” The word came out as a gasp as he pushed the dress down her body. “Where would you get an idea like that?”

“Let us say that like calls to like.” He took off her corset and left her standing in her shift and petticoats. “And I have reason to believe that you will not find my tastes as revolting as other young maidens might.”

He wasn’t wrong. Belle couldn’t imagine Jeanne or Mathilde being able to have a conversation with the Dark One. Trapped in a cell like this, any sensible girl would have succumbed to weeping. Any sensible girl would have backed out of this deal when he had given her a chance.

But Belle was here. She had chosen to be here. Odd was a kinder word than some would use to describe a woman in her position.   

“You can undress yourself if you like. I’ll watch.”

Her gown was in a crumpled pile around her ankles. She picked it up and shook out the fabric before folding neatly and setting it on the floor. She took off her final layers and folded them as well. Later, she would surely find out what he wanted her to wear. For now Belle was naked, standing before the Dark One. In that moment, and to her own surprise, she was not afraid.

“Oh yes,” he whispered. “Very beautiful.”

She shivered, but it was only the cold. He had been standing back, admiring her, but now she felt him take her hand. He lifted her arm until it was extended and Belle felt a burst of heat on the back of her hand.

It was his breath, she realized when she felt it again. He was kissing her hand as though he were a gentleman meeting a lady at a grand ball. It was such an incongruous gesture that Belle almost laughed. She was standing naked in a dungeon and the Dark One--the most feared creature in all the realms--was kissing her hand!

He turned her wrist gently and put his lips to her palms, then each of her fingers. He took her other hand and switched back and forth, covering her with delicate kisses.

It was so soft, Belle thought, so tender. This was nothing like what she had thought to expect--not from a husband and certainly not from a creature like the Dark One!

He kissed her wrists at the pulse points and Belle felt the heat of it travel through her veins up her arms and into her heart.

“Oh,” she said softly.

“Do you like that, Belle?” his voice was gentle, sincere.

“I think I do.” It was such a strange sensation. She could hardly say whether she truly liked it. But she certainly didn’t dislike it.

“Good,” he said. With the same steady slowness, the Dark One placed kisses up her arm, not stopping until his mouth had traveled past her shoulder and to the nape of her neck. He kept one hand on Belle’s shoulder, but with the other he crooked his finger around the chain of her necklace.

“Tell me about this.”

“It was my mother’s,” Belle’s eyes closed in the darkness, in the warmth of his touch. “It’s been in the family for generations. The pendant is unicorn horn.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat. “Unicorns are drawn to virgins,” he closed his hand around the necklace and broke the chain. “This will do you no good anymore.”

Belle’s eyes snapped open and her hands flew to her throat, but the necklace was gone. Gone! He had snatched it off her neck just like the ogres had snatched away Mama. The clasp had broken just like when Ermentrude had handed it to her on that terrible morning in the mist. Everything was happening again. Panic flooded her senses. Everything was ending all over again!

“Give it back!” she pleaded. “It’s mine! It’s my mother’s! Please!”

“No,” he said with a flash of blue light. “This necklace is mine now. As your body is mine.”

“You have to give it back!” Belle choked out a sob. “It’s all I have left!”

“Yes, that’s why I want it, dearie.” His voice was malicious and gleeful. He was enjoying her pain.

“No!” She lunged in the darkness, grabbing at his body, feeling for his hands. But they were empty. He had already made her necklace disappear. “Where is it?”

“It’s safe, child. I took the thing to keep it, not to throw it away.”

“Give it back,” she sobbed. She hadn’t cried until now, not until this devastating betrayal.  “What good is it to you?”

“It’s precious,” he answered. “Precious to you, just as you were precious to your people. This is what I do, dearie. I take.”

It was true and she knew it was true. The Dark One stole as much as he gave. But why did he steal what she needed to keep? How could he be so cruel? So unfeeling? And she was giving her body to him! How else would show his cruelty? In what other ways would he prove himself a monster?

The fear and the sorrow that Belle had pressed down over and over welled up from her chest and came out in sobs. She cried so hard she couldn’t breathe, her passions swift and violent as a thunderstorm. She sobbed until she choked, until she was bent over. Until she could make no more noise at all.

“No, none of that!” His hands were on her shoulders, lifting her up. His voice was urgent, but gentle. She had no strength, so she let him hold her upright. “You need to breathe to stay alive. Take a deep breath for me, Belle. Just one.”

She didn’t want to obey him, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But he was right. Belle filled her lungs and then let the shaking breath come out.

“Good girl. Now another one.”

How stupid that she needed him to tell her to breathe. But his instruction steadied her. It was easier to control herself if she let him control her.

“Good, good. A few more.”

He made her breathe until she could do it without crying, without shaking. He made her breathe until she was calm again.

“That’s better.” It sounded like he was smiling. “You’re going to have to learn to live with fear, my girl. Fear, sorrow, an indecent amount of guilt and shame--they’re not going to stop. You just have to breathe through them.”

Now Belle was calm enough to be angry. “I wouldn’t be upset if you hadn’t stolen from me.”

“Yes, but that’s not going to stop either. I’m going to keep upsetting you, and taking from you, and turning your senses upside down and inside out. I will demand so much of you, Belle. But I truly believe you can cope. I truly believe that you can find pleasure in the life I’m condemning you to.”

Belle sighed, taking a deep breath without having to be ordered. He was right. She had agreed to be his possession. How could she resent him for doing what he had said he would do?

“It still hurts,” she wiped at her eyes.

“Yes. The pain is as much a part of our deal as the pleasure. It won’t stop, but you can endure it. You’re strong enough.”

How could he know that? How could he be so sure? Especially when Belle herself had no reason to think that she could bear the trials that would be coming to her?

But then he had his hands on her again and all her questions became meaningless. Her mind stilled as he touched her body. He kissed along her neck, the place where her necklace had been. He kept going as though nothing had delayed his previous journey. And she let him, softening to his ministrations.

She felt his breath hot in her hair and on her ears. He inhaled deeply--he was smelling her--and Belle’s body tensed. He kissed around her face, but did not trouble himself with her mouth, going from her jaw back to her throat. The Dark One moved from her neck to her chest. He put his hands on her waist and kissed the wide expanse between her collarbone and her breasts. His grip tightened as he bent over her, lowered his head to press his lips to her soft flesh.

His breath on her breast was like a fire, billowing outward and consuming her. He sucked her nipple into his mouth and flicked at it with his tounge. Belle’s knees buckled at the overwhelming sensation. She opened her mouth and then shut it before any sound could escape.

He released her with a pop and chuckled. “Don’t be afraid to make noises, my dear. There’s no one to hear you but me.”

So when he gave her other breast the same treatment, Belle closed her eyes and moaned, albeit tentatively. How was he doing this? What magic was he working on her body to make it behave so absurdly? Did it pleasure him to hear her make these noises?

After the heat of his mouth, the cool air of the dungeon felt icy on her exposed skin. Belle felt her nipples harden, felt their sensitivity to every movement, to every breath of wind. She felt her body get tighter, as though she were a bowstring, pulled back and ready to let an arrow fly.

When he kissed her belly, she bunched into herself and jerked away from him. But for all the strangeness of that feeling, she didn’t want him to stop. It seemed he knew her dilemma. He held her steady by the hips and forced her to be still while his mouth traveled against the soft curves of her abdomen. His fingernails dug into her flesh as he covered her with kisses.

“Oh,” Belle sighed. That felt good.

He stopped when his mouth reached her curls. Belle felt the heat of his breath touch her secret places. He was bent at the waist in front of her. She reached out her hand and felt the hard, scaly leather of the back of his coat.

He stood up quickly. “Go lie down and spread your legs wide for me.”

“Yes, Dark One.” Belle began to obey but he took her by the arm to stop her.

“What did you say?” He wasn’t angry, but it was clear that she had done wrong and needed to correct herself.

“I mean--yes, Rumpelstiltskin.”

He let her go. “Good girl.”

The wooden bench was still hard and uncomfortable, but there was no other surface she would lie on. Belle lay on her back and opened her legs.

“Wider,” he instructed. “You’re a whore now, dearie, you’ll have to act like it.”

Bristling at the insult, Belle began to push herself off the bench, ready to give him a piece of her mind. But then she stopped. He wasn’t wrong, was he? She had asked for his help and he had demanded her body. She was giving herself over to him now, but only for a price. She was a whore. And she would keep being a whore until he didn’t want her anymore.

She lay down again, with one leg bent at the knee and the other planted on the damp floor.

“That’s better,” he said. He sat on the bench, perpendicular to how she lay. She could feel his back against the leg she had propped up against the wall.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on top of me?”

“All in good time.” He put one hand on her inner thigh, squeezing the soft skin posessively. With the other hand, he ran his fingers through the curly hair between her legs.

As when he had touched her belly, she fought the instinct to pull away from his touch. It was not unpleasant, but it was so strange, so new. She couldn’t help her reaction.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I do want to please you.”

“You do,” his voice was low. “You are.” His hand moved from her thigh to her stomach. She felt his fingers splayed out against her, holding her down, keeping her still.

“What should I do?”

“Nothing,” he answered. “You don’t even have to think if you don’t want to. Just let me work in you.”

Belle closed her eyes and lay back. When had she ever done nothing? Even as a child she’d had lessons and sewing and reading to do. A woman’s work was never done. She had to manage a household, had to learn everything she’d need to know for the future. Even when there was no task for her hands, Belle had always had to think, to plan, to make lists of things she needed to do at the next available opportunity.

But now there was nothing. Nothing for her to do, no one for her to worry about, nowhere she needed to be. She was here, and it was now, and she was with the Dark One. Her only duty was to give him what he wanted. And all he wanted her to do was nothing.

His fingers explored her secret places with aching slowness. Feather-light touches built up an uncomfortable tension deep within her. When he traced one finger on the very outside of her womanhood, Belle felt herself wanting to cry. She wanted to beg him, but beg him for what? Did she want him to stop or never stop?

Under his touch, her back arched and she finally recognized the feeling rising up from between her legs. He was touching her in the way she touched herself sometimes. It was pleasure he was giving her--a slow, agonizing pleasure, so different from her own hurried fumblings.

The hand that had been resting on her stomach crept up her body to hold her breast. His thumb brushed against her nipple and Belle gasped at the sensation.

“Remember what I said about making noises, girl.”

“You said I could!”

“And I meant it!” He worked his fingers into her womanhood, opening the gates that guarded her most intimate place. As soon as he touched her, he swore loudly.

“What is it?” Belle pushed herself up onto her elbows. Was something wrong?

“You’re wet!”

“Oh.” Was that all? “Yes, it gets like that down there. I hope it doesn’t bother--”

He cut her off with his first kiss on her mouth. It was a wet kiss, slobbery and demanding. His mouth covered hers and he sucked at her tounge and his arm wrapped around her and his fingers played busily between her legs. He took her wetness and spread it around her folds of flesh and every touch made Belle whimper and moan. He broke the kiss and rubbed her over and over, muttering obscenities into her ear. He said please more than any other word.

Belle felt her pleasure rise as the Dark One used his fingers on her. His thumb found a hard spot at the crest of her womanhood and the touch burst through her like a bolt of lightning. She yelped. Her pleasure came up from between her legs, filling her chest and eventually pouring out of her mouth in an unbroken cry. She shook and jerked and Rumpelstiltskin held her and touched her and praised her until she couldn’t bear the ecstacy for another moment.

Belle went limp, her body shuddering with every heartbeat. The Dark One held her to his chest. He was still wearing his clothes. Hard leather and metal were cold against her heated skin. She rested against him until he set her back down onto the bench.

“What you just did,” he told her, “is called an orgasm. You’re going to have one every day for as long as you serve me.”

“Every day?” Belle whispered. That pleasure had been intense enough to satisfy her cravings for a month if not longer. How could she exert herself to that extent every day for the rest of her life?

“You’ll get used to it, my sweet. You’ll get used to a lot of things.”

“If you say so,” she sighed, resting her head on the wood. It was lighter in the cell. Dawn was breaking. It seemed they had been doing this for some time. She closed her eyes, exhausted.

“We’re not done yet, my dear.” He was moving, positioning himself to lie on top of her. He was still wearing his coat.  “It’s my turn.”

His fingers inside her had been bony, but small and dextrous. When he pushed his manhood between her legs it was a blunt and awkward hardness.

Belle winced and the Dark One fumbled at where their bodies joined.

“Sorry,” he said as he adjusted himself. “It’s so easy to hurt a woman while doing this. And I never want to hurt you accidentally.”

It was less painful now. He eased into her slowly, breathing deeply as he moved.

“Not on accident,” Belle repeated. “Only deliberately?”

“That’s what you agreed to, dearie.” In the gloom of dawn, Belle could finally see his face. His eyes were closed, as though he was trying to savor her. “But not now, not yet. We have plenty of time to find all the ways to hurt you.”

“Will you hurt me every day?” she asked. “Will I get used to that, just like the orgasms?”

“That is,” he thrust himself deeply inside her, “the plan.”

“Why?” If she kept talking she wouldn’t have to think about her body, what he was doing to her, how strange and uncomfortable and satisfying it was.

Her question made him open his eyes. He looked down at her and his mouth crooked into a grin. “Because it’s fun, dearie. You’ll see.” He picked up his pace. “I’ll make you enjoy it, my girl.” He whispered as he thrust, faster and faster. “I’ll give you pleasure to match your pain. I’ll make you scream with agony and delight until you don’t know which is which. I’ll debase you and debauch you and make you weep with joy. I’ll hurt you so well you’ll beg me for it and then I’ll fuck you over and over, my beautiful whore.”

His words became grunts, incomprehensible mutterings. He pushed again and again below her waist, banging his body into hers. He closed his eyes again, swearing and shouting, louder and faster. If Belle’s pleasure was one long cry, his seemed to be a thousand broken ones.

With a final shout, he collapsed on to Belle. She felt a new heat bursting between her legs, a liquid pleasure. Only slowly did she realize that the feeling was coming from the Dark One’s body, from his manhood.

So that is how it happens, Belle thought. So that is a marriage bed. So that was a maidenhead lost.

She was so consumed by her own thoughts and discoveries, that she barely registered how completely the Dark One was lying on her. He seemed as exhausted as she was. He lay on her bosom, like a love-struck boy in some romantic painting, and Belle had the vague thought to wrap her arms around him, to stroke his back and play with his sweat-dampened hair. That was what a lover would do. She could whisper sweet words into his ears. She could treat him tenderly.

But then he opened his eyes and pushed himself off her. He scrambled to his feet and stood in front of her. It was the first time he had ever seemed ill-at-ease. In the morning light, she could see that he was still fully dressed, his breeches laced tightly.

He saw her looking at him and straightened up, cleared his throat. “I didn’t think this would take so long,” he said, almost apologetic. “There’s only one more thing we need to do.”

“What’s that?”

“I need to bind you to me. Properly.”

Before she could ask what he meant, he conjured up a spindle and a handful of straw.

Belle’s mouth opened. Was this it? Were the stories true? Was she really going to see the Dark One spin straw into gold?

He held the stalks of straw in one hand and with the other he reached between Belle’s legs. He didn’t look at her as he pulled up a glob of her wetness, holding the glistening fluid on two fingers.

The touch made Belle jerk again and she felt her insides pulsing. It was all so strange and hot and good. She had never felt like this after satisfying herself. How powerful was his magic, to render her so insensible?

The fluid on his hands glinted darkly in the gray light. Was it blood? Had he made her bleed? No, Belle blinked slowly into the realization, the liquid was dark but not red. It was her wetness, but combined with his seed. Her pleasure mixed with his completion.

He spread the dark fluid over the straw, coating every stalk with the obscene mixture. Then he began to spin.

The spindle bobbed merrily as it spun and the straw glowed dimly as it turned into gold. Belle had never spun yarn, but even she could see what a marvel this was. The stiff stalks bent and became pliable as thread, their color changing only slightly as their value increased.

When the straw was gone and the spindle was wound with gold, the Dark One took the thread from the staff and tossed the spindle away. The spindle never hit the floor but vanished in a puff of blue smoke.

Silently, he wove the thread between his hands, making a sort of cat’s cradle. Belle sat up to watch. The thread had looped around and around his fingers, almost immobilizing him. He rocked on his heels as he worked, the motion entrancing him as much as it did her.

“Give me your hands,” he said, and Belle offered them up to him. With a quick, skillful motion, he flipped the thread from his fingers to her wrists, binding her hands together. He held her wrists together for a moment, then broke them apart with a glow of magic.

The threads had become bands of solid gold, completely encircling both of her wrists.

“Oh,” Belle breathed as she looked at them. The bracelets were as wide as the first two knuckles of her smallest finger. She could see her reflection in the shining metal and felt the weight of pure gold. “I’ve never worn jewelry this grand,” she told him. “Thank you.”

The Dark One looked at her quizzically. “These aren’t a gift, dearie.” He shook his head at her. “These are your shackles!”

“What?”

“Lean back against the wall,” he ordered, and Belle watched, amazed, as her wrists move of their own accord to obey him. Both her hands were at the level of her head, forcing her to sit up on the bench. The cuffs locked into the stone behind her and no matter how Belle struggled she could not break away. Her amazement quickly shifted into horror.

The Dark One headed for the door.

“Wait!” she cried out. “Rumpelstiltskin, wait!”

He turned, cocking his head to look at her.

“You can’t just leave me here like this!”

“Of course I can!” He danced over to her. “I can do anything I want to you! But, since you were so clever about using my name to get my attention, I’ll soften the blow.”

He summoned a square pillow and wedged it between the back of her head and the cold stone.

Belle looked up at him, helpless. She could think of no other words that might move him to have mercy on her.

He looked down at her, exposing his black and broken teeth in a look that was both a sneer and a grin. “But don’t worry, dearie. I’ll be back!”