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HI! Okay so I absolutely love your Kastle AU story (might have seen my comments ^^;) and I'm sorry if this is old news to you but you might be interested in Mob City where Jon Bernthal plays a cop. I've only seen the first ep so I can't say whether it's good, but all I could think of was your Cop Frank so I thought you should know.
Thank you! Glad I’m not the only one who fell into the hole of this AU idea :-D I’ll look into Mob City and see if it’s something that I might enjoy
Belle of Storybrook Farm-Chapter 2
Chapter 2 of 2! For my wonderful giftee @kleptomaven!
Prompt: Society ball backroom, tight corset Rating: M Summary: Belle French has become the local oddball. But there’s more to the story than meets the eye
“Belle!”
Belle couldn’t help but smile as her father came to give her a big hug. At first he hadn’t supported her idea of living out at the farm, but when she saw how content she was he threw all of his support behind her. Now he was thrilled that they had a closer relationship than ever.
The French family had always held a bonfire for the Feast of Epiphany. Belle wasn’t sure what fire had to do with the three wise men coming to visit, but she suspected it was just a good time for everyone in the village to come together for one last winter party. She hadn’t been up for going to the party the year before as one of her prize goats was giving birth to a lamb, but she found herself looking forward to the celebration.
It had been two years now since Robert Gold had left. Her crying jag the night of the Nolan Christmas party aside, she felt that it was time to start moving on. Not letting go as how does one let go of someone that is a part of them. She knew she could never love another as she still loved Robert Gold. But moving forward, trying to be happy for both of them.
She had been quietly making the arrangements for weeks. To travel the continent with Ruby as her companion. She had found a newspaper publisher in the city that expressed interesting in having stories about travel written from a woman's perspective, and would provide a advance depending on how her first article was received.
“Not bad for the Mad Goat woman.” She thought smirking as she saw Granny Lucas in the sitting room. Bonfire night was something that some of the matriarchs never approved of, calling it a pagan tradition. Even when one pointed out it was to celebrate the magi, they had all clucked and fluttered their fans in disapproval.
Peeking in, she saw Zelena Green sitting at her mother’s elbow. It seemed as if she was well on her way on becoming another battle axe that just sat in judgement of the community around them.
“I am not some country gentleman who would never stir except to say ‘I told you so.’”
Smiling bittersweetly at the memory and wondering what Robert would say if he saw the women in the sitting room, she turned to go to the dining room when she spied the Nolans with their daughter Emma.
There was nothing like a warm fire on a cold night to warm up the soul. Children were running about the yard throwing chestnuts into the fire and giggling at they popped. Some of the younger gentleman had started out passing out brandied raisins singing the old 12th night tune,
Here he comes with the family bowl.
Don’t be mean to take his toll
Snip! Snap! Dragon!
Belle looked over when she heard Zelena Greene cluck her tongue in disapproval. She smiled as she saw Granny Lucas and Widow Mariah cheerily take a raisin and a steaming mug from one of the lads and laughed. It made for a beautiful milieu. If an incomplete one. If Gold has stayed, would they have had a young boy dashing back for chestnuts? Would she be chattering with her group of girlfriends as they fussed over Emma Nolan and straightening her hat?
Shaking her head of these morose thoughts, she raised up her own mug in a salute to her father and Mr. Dove. Dove had become quite close to Maurice since taking over Gold’s property in his absence, and helping keep the French estate afloat. She knew that if Mrs. Dove hadn’t been a formidable woman her father would have tried his hand at matchmaking. Yet another reason to leave Storybrooke while she could. A few years away herself, and she could find a way to put herself back together again.
Laughing as Ruby pulled her into a dance she put the thoughts of the future out of her mind. Singing the old magi song at the top of her lungs with the other young people, she could only think of the moment. Not the future or the past.
“But Belle it’s nearly two in the morning! And it’s dark out! Surely it’s far too late to be walking across the property by yourself.”
The party had been another roaring success. Even if Granny Lucas had taken too much mead in her cup and had to be sent home early. Normally she would have stayed the night in her old bed, but she knew she had stock to care for in the morning.
“Father I walked over here by myself. I’ll be fine.” She had taken her cloak and lantern from Mrs. Potts and had been given an extra muff just in case.
“At least let me call for one of the footmen to bring you a carriage or to escort you.”
Belle laughed as she reached up to kiss her father on both cheeks. “They are all far too into their cups this fine evening as well. I’m not sure they could find the carriage if you asked, and who would escort them back in the dark?” Noticing his put out expression, she squeezed his hand. “I promise, I’ll send Dove or someone by tomorrow. I’ll be fine I promise.”
He looked at her sadly. “You know Blue Belle, I’ve always been proud of your independent spirit. Your mother would have been so proud of you. And I know it’s been a difficult few years since Lord Gold left for the Far East.” At her look of surprise he continued, “Do you honestly think I wouldn’t notice how you were floating on air those few months? Or the way you two danced together at the Nolan Christmas ball? Other people might not notice, but I know you my darling girl. That’s why I supported you in this farming venture, I thought it would be good for you.” Here he paused as Belle began to cry. “Now now my dear, there’s no need to cry. But it’s a new year, and I want you to considering that being independent on your walks or on your farm isn’t enough. It’s been two years, and none of us know if Lord Gold will ever return. And I think when you look around here, all you see is him everywhere you turn. It’s time to go out and live my dear. Truly live. That’s my new year wish for you.”
Belle couldn’t be bothered to wipe her tears away as she threw her arms around his neck, “That’s what I want for myself as well papa. I love you.”
Hugging her back he stepped away, wiping away his own tears. “Now look what you’ve done. Your father has had too much to drink this evening myself it appears. It’s loosened me up.” He patted her shoulder. “It’s getting late, you head back and later this week we will talk about what the future holds for the French family alright? Now off with you.”
Grinning at her father, Belle stepped out the front door and off to home.
It was only a few miles through the forest and Belle had made it plenty of times before. Tonight however, with the full moon shining and her father’s words in her ears it felt shorter than ever before. It was a new year, a time for new beginning.
Her father was right. Every hill, every home, every festival just reminded her of Lord Gold. Leaving for a while would be good for her, perhaps her father could come along with her and Ruby as well. He’d never seen the continent. And maybe after living some life she could come back to Storybrooke and be perfectly content.
Almost.
Smiling to herself, she turned down her lane to be startled as she saw the shadow of a man standing in front of her house. His back was to her, but he seemed to be gazing at her door. He appeared not to have noticed the glow from her lantern. She was still quite a distance away, but she could just make out something in his right hand. A weapon? Belle found herself cursing and wishing she had taken her father’s offer of a escort back to the house. But she had always felt safe on the estate. Now for the first time she was afraid. There was no one around for miles. No one would be able to hear her once this man realised she was there. She had a few meters on him, maybe she could outrun him.
Just as she started to back up quietly so he wouldn’t hear her, the man turned around and she almost dropped her lantern in shock.
It was Lord Gold.
“Miss French.”
“I’m dreaming.” she whispered out softly. “Either that or I’m seeing a ghost.” Could it be? Could it really be him?
Squinting, she edged forward holding up the lantern like a shield towards his face. As she got closer she could see that it was in fact him. He was a bit thinner and even more grey tinted his hair-but it was him. Lord Gold had come home.
They continued to stare at each other before she was able to speak. “You’re back. When?”
“Only just a few hours ago. I wasn’t able to send word ahead. Once I caught up with Mr. Dove, he mentioned you were living out here. I apologize. I had no intention of invading your privacy.” He stopped speaking as she continued to move closer to him
As she continued to gaze at him in shock she realized that the item in his hand was a cane. He must have seen her glance at it as he continued on, “Ah yes the cane. Well there was an accident a few months ago and my ankle has yet to recover. I don’t quite know what possessed me to come out here Ms. French. But I had to see if….that is to say I wanted to make sure that...blast.” He held up his hands, “This is all coming out wrong.”
“You had to see if I was alright. To see if I was happy.”
He sighed as she stopped less than a foot from him. “And there you are my dear. Still finishing my sentences after all this time.”
“Yes.”
“And are you Miss French?”
“Am I what?”
“Are you happy?” He looked at her as if he was about the face the firing squad. He clenched both hands on his cane so tightly, that she could see his knuckles turn white.
“That depends.” He stared at her feet unable to meet her eyes. “It depends on what? Tell me, I will do anything to make sure you are happy. After all that’s happened, you should be happy.” He looked up to her face. “I would move heaven and earth to make sure you were happy Belle.”
She burst out laughing and dove for him. Her prayers had been answered, he was back. And with nothing more than a glance she knew that their feelings were unchanged.
As her lips met his, she felt him stir in shock before putting his hands around her waist and lifting her up into the air as he kissed her back. Between laughing, crying, and kisses she was just able to lift her head to say, “It depends on if you have come home to me. I could never truly be happy without you.”
As she touched his face she felt him shiver. “If you’ll have me, yes. Yes I have come home to you. It was a mistake not taking you with me, but I was so afraid sweetheart. I was so afraid and I was so mistaken.” He kissed her passionately again, pulling her tightly against him and then resting his head on her shoulder. “I love you. I love you so much.”
Her eyes filled with tears, she spoke the words in her heart. “And I love you to.”
She wasn’t quite sure how it had happened. One moment they were kissing, and then next she was pulling him into her foyer with her arms wrapped around his neck. “Come Robert. Be with me.” Running her fingers through his hair again, she beamed up at him. “I have waited over two years for you. I have dreamt about feeling you against me. Longed for you. Come. Come with me.”
He nodded and then allowed her to take his hand and lead him up the stairs. As they reached the threshold of her bedroom, he stopped. “Sweetheart wait.” She gazed up at him, fear in her eyes. Would he think he to forward once again? Kissing her gently, he murmured. “It’s not that. I just...I just don’t know if I can give you what you what. What you deserve.”
Smiling, she pressed her lips to his again. “All I want is you.”
He undressed her slowly as she stood before him on the bed. Each time he revealed a new patch of skin, he kissed it lovingly.
“I knew I loved you from that first time I saw you at the May Day festival. That lovely grin.” He kissed her mouth. “Those lovely arms.” He kissed her under her elbow. “You were perfection. I should have never have left you. Never.”
She shushed him quietly. “We can talk about that later, what matters now is that you’ve come back to me.”
Belle had read up on the subject of lovemaking and had thought herself prepared. And that fact that Robert’s kisses and touches made her feel like she was on fire sounded correct. Even getting to feel his taut muscles of his back as he laid over her was unsurprising.
But when he had moved down her body to kiss her in her most intimate place, she found that her breath left her as if she was wearing that to tight corset again.
“What...oh god...What are you doing?”
He looked up at her from where he had settled between her thighs to give her that smirk that she found so attractive. “I told you sweetheart. I want to give you want you deserve.”
He had lowered his head and she felt his tongue dance across her sensitive nub. When she gasped, he continued to suckle, kiss, and work his tongue in a way that drove her wild. Soon the pressure was building up in her legs and raced through her blood until we a cry, her body began to shake and quiver.
Crawling back up her body, he held her rocking quietly as her shivers subsided.
“I love you Belle.”
She sighed contentedly. “And I love you. Why did you do that?”
He gazed at her lovingly as he rolled on top of her, settling in between her thighs. “I’m not quite sure how long I will be able to stay inside of you. I thought it was best to see to your needs first. Are you ready sweetheart?”
“I am.”
And with that, he slowly pushed inside of her. It stung for a few moments, but he held still once he had pushed in fully and allowed her to adjust. Once he felt her body relax he began to move.
“Ah sweetheart. You are so amazing. So very very amazing.”
Belle was just starting to get into the rhythm of their rocking motion when Robert groaned above her and began to shake himself. Grasping onto his shoulders as he collapsed on top of her, she remembered what she had read about men who hadn’t engaged in love making for extended periods of time.
When he rolled off of her body and drew her close, he kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stay long inside of you. But it was our first time. Next time it will be even better. “
Basking in her afterglow Belle could barely process what he was saying. “It’s even better that that?”
“Oh yes sweetheart. Much better. And next time I’ll show you.”
She looked up at his face, “Next time?”
He kissed her lips softly and said “Yes next time. After this, I think a conversation with your father is in order yes?”
She was so happy she felt like she could burst. She dove for his lips and kissed him again. “Yes yes you should. I’m so happy sweetheart. We’re going to have the most amazing life. Happy new year.”
He laughed as his nose tickled her ear, “Happy new year.”
Belle of Storybrooke Farm
Happy holidays to my wonderful giftee @kleptomaven! I hope you like your story-I had so much fun with your prompt. Hopefully I didn’t go to hard on the angst. Here’s chapter 1.
Prompt: Society ball backroom, tight corset Rating: M Summary: Belle French has become the local oddball. But there’s more to the story than meets the eye.
Chapter 1:
Isobel French of Storybrooke Farm, was considered to be one of the oddest women in the county, if not the country. By all accounts she had had a normal quiet childhood in one of the finest estates in the neighborhood. Of course, there was the early tragedy with her mother’s passing, and even at a young age she was far too well read for a girl. But up until she was 19, she had enjoyed going to the the local balls,was considered sweet and lovely, and seemed destined for a good match and a quiet life. But then something had changed and now at 21 she was referred to as the Mad Goat woman by some of the more unforgiving ladies in the neighborhood. She no longer lived in the fine house her father still resided in, but had taken up working a small farm on the estate. Tending to sheep and goats of all things! She still was quite close with tight knit group she had grown up with, and her wares brought fame to the region, and were quite enjoyed by the higher establishment in the cities. However for a woman of her stature to seem to enjoy being in trade was beyond the scope of the matriarchs and wives of their quiet little part of the country. “I worry that she’ll be a bad influence on Ruby and the other girls in her set.” decried Granny Lucas at Mary Margaret’s Christmas party. “She’s far too direct in her language and manners. And 21 and no apparent husband on the horizon! How Maurice French allows that behavior is beyond the pale.” The other ladies nodded their heads and fanned themselves quickly. Mary Margaret was quick to speak up for her friend. “She’s simply chosen a more quiet and simplistic life than others Granny. She seems content and happy. That’s something we should all aspire to.” Granny frowned. “What lady could be happy with her hands in the dirt and smudges on her apron? Did you know Mrs. Nolan that she lives in that little cottage all alone? How could anyone be happy being alone during the holiday season? No husband, no children, not even a single servant to cook Christmas supper for?” “I heard a rumor that she was being courted by some gentleman and when she lost his favor she just snapped,” simpered Zelena Greene. “So perhaps all of this talk of her being content is just a farce.” Granny spoke up again. “Well the only man worth anything that ever looked twice at her was Gaston Prescott, and that man was a disgusting lout God rest his soul. Far beneath any respectable woman anywhere. And now it’s far too late for a respectable match. She’ll stay a spinster and alone forever.” Mary Margaret frowned at all of them as all the other wives nodded sagely as they turned the subject to how much Regina Mills’ new dress clashed against the Christmas decorations.
As she looked out the window at the swirling snow, Belle hoped her friend’s party was going well. Once upon a time she had loved the holiday season with it’s festive balls and warmth, but the holiday held no joy for her now. She could find herself almost content the rest of the year, but whenever the Christmas season approached all of the memories came flooding back. Both good and bad, it was all she could do to step out to feed her stock. Glancing down at the worn gentleman’s glove she held in her hand, she felt the tears burn her eyes even as her candle went out. It was still hard to believe that two years had passed. To accept that she would never see his face again. Or hear his laugh again. She pressed the soft fabric against her cheek. “Oh sweetheart. How I wish you were here. I miss you.” Two years and she still wept like it had been yesterday.
Their love story had started like so many others. A simple meeting and a shared look. Not love at first sight. Belle didn’t believe in love at first sight. Her entire life had changed because she and Ruby Lucas had ‘accidentally’ spilled chicken blood on Gaston Prescott at the May Day festival. Gaston had been working his way through the neighborhood servants and scullery maids for years much to the chagrin of every mother and wife in the county. But it wasn’t until his gambling debts threatened the estate and he impregnated a girl from a fine family in London that his father responded. He insisted that Gaston marry the girl or else be cut off entirely, and while he had proposed the lady in question he had yet to hear an answer by the May Day festival. And so he went about for a ‘last sowing of wild oats’ that resulted in him cornering Mary Margaret Blanchard and trying to kiss her. Fortunately, she had been rescued by her neighbor David Nolan. Belle and Ruby had never liked Gaston, and once they heard what had happened, wanted to get revenge for all the women that they knew. Both of them had known there was chicken blood set aside for the blood pudding. Both of them ‘tripping’ and ‘falling’ into Gaston and spilling half a liter of red congealed goo all over his spring suit had been quite satisfying. They had both dashed off as he roared after them, but they had managed to lose him in the crowd. He had caught up with Belle away from the main crowd over by the fir trees later in the afternoon. If Belle hadn’t been so scared, she would have laughed. Gaston’s face was almost as red as his jacket. “So I’ve caught you! You two harlots are out of order! You two did that on purpose, and I’m going to make you pay French.” “What you should do dearie, is get that washed before the stain sets in. I’ve heard blood can be quite unpleasant to get out of linen.” Gaston froze as he turned to look at Lord Gold as he sauntered up behind them. Belle only knew him because of some literary connection between his father and her father, but she did know that he wasn’t someone to be trifled with. The fact that she found his greying sideburns to be quite attractive notwithstanding. “Good god Gold you saw what these two harlots did. They’ve made me a laughingstock of everyone.” He glared at Belle and she glared back. “You made a laughingstock of yourself all on your own Mr. Prescott.” Gaston made a step forward as if to shove her, when Gold had stepped forward again. “Indeed sir. You’ve managed to dirty yourself all on your own.” Stepping closer he lowered his voice dangerously. “Now I suggest you take your soiled suit, marry that girl in London, and head off the continent where you can entertain the Europeans with your antics.” Gaston went pale, but he still had a bit of fight. “If you’re fine with your mistress attacking another man Gold, then I….,” He stopped speaking as Gold stood up to him nose to nose. “Watch yourself Prescott. I can ruin you, your father, your future wife, your children, and everyone you’ve ever met with a few simple words. We both know that with your debts to me and the liens I owe on your father’s property that you are not going to say another word otherwise. Not to mention the fact that I could have my man Dove break you into so many pieces that nothing will put you together again. The lady is not my mistress, because a woman standing up for herself and her fellows isn’t a whore. She’s the finest kind of woman that there is.” Pointing towards the lane he smirked. “Now go. Go and do not come back.” Glaring at the pair of them Gaston had gone off down the lane and had in fact never come back again. Contracting a fever while on his European honeymoon he had died shortly afterwards. His wife had given birth to a son in due course-one who now lived with her family up north and was being groomed to take over the Prescott estate someday. “Thank you Lord Gold. I had no idea he would be quite so upset. Miss Lucas and I just wanted to…” “Embarrass him in front of the entire town. You’ve been making a statement then.” He gave her a genuine smile that if she had believed in love at first sight that would have been the moment. Just as quickly though, it disappeared into a smirk. “Yes, I appreciate your reasoning Miss French if not your tactics. Next time, do try to be less obvious.” And with that he had turned and walked away. It had all quickly fallen into place after that first meeting. By sheer luck, they had met again at her cousin’s house in Plymouth, and had been sat together. Apparently he had been golfing with David Nolan, Killian Jones, and Mr Dove and had been miserable the entire time. With his biting sarcasm and quick wit he managed to make his misery sound entertaining. “I know it will make my Scottish ancestors roll in their graves, but if I’m going to be spending hours outside he’d much rather be trekking through the woods, or riding my favorite horse. Hitting a little ball with a club into a little hole feels like a waste of the outdoors.” He frowned at his companions who were all chortling into their port. “And then I have to walk about with Tweedledumb, Tweedledumber, and Tweedledumbest over there.” Looking back, she couldn’t remember when she had laughed so hard. They had discussed literature, the locals in Somerset, and had even discussed her cousin’s atrocious taste in paintings in her parlor. When Ruby Lucas had needed a ride back to the area after getting notice that her grandmother was ill, he had gladly offered to drive both she and Belle back immediately. Ruby’s house was a few miles from Belle’s, and while it would have shocked anyone who saw them, he drove her back to her place so as to give the Lucas family their space. Fog had overtaken them, and they had been forced to sit alongside the road until they could see far enough for the horses to keep moving. At one point, she had thought that he would kiss her-but instead he mentioned how he had once dreamt of being a simple spinner in his youth, but his brother dying and him becoming the eldest had quickly put an end to childish dreams. It wasn’t until they saw the pink light on the horizon, that they realized they had been talking for hours. The fog had disappeared hours before.
By the time the Christmas ball had arrived, Belle knew she loved Lord Gold and that he loved her. While they had yet to kiss, she knew that every word, every walk and conversation was a declaration of their love for one another. Despite the 20 year age difference, they were the perfect foils to one another. They were a good intellectual match, and even though he was known for having a dry humor Belle was able to witness the true kindness underneath. He had helped one of the local farm girls to find a good position after Gaston had fled the country arguing it was a matter of principle as the girl was a good worker. They had courted quietly so that no one except for Ruby and Gold’s manservant Dove even knew about their relationship. When he took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, Belle could feel her knees grow weak. What they had a true meetings of the mind, and Belle loved him for it. And then it had all fallen apart. While she had danced with many gentleman at the the Nolan’s Christmas ball, she only had eyes for one man. The corset Mrs. Potts had insisted she wear may have been too tight, but when he had whispered in her ear during a waltz to meet in one of the back rooms away from the ball she felt all the breath leave her body. In her gut she knew, this was the moment. The moment that her life would change. If only she had known at the time how true that was. Rushing back during the musicians break, she found her beloved standing in the smallest backroom staring at the fire. “Robert.” It was the first and only time she had called him by his first name. Normally it was Lord Gold, Mr. Gold, or when she was feeling brave-sweetheart. But as he turned to look at her, she knew that something was wrong. Her Robert never looked at her with such despair in his eyes. Her sweetheart always walked with a posture that spoke of a gentleman of his breeding and intellect. This man looked defeated. “Miss French. I had intended to...I had planned.” He sighed. “I’m afraid I’ve been called away.” “Away?” “Yes. To….well….. to the far east.” Now she was certain, Mrs. Potts had tied her corset far too tightly, as she felt all of the air leave her lungs. “The far east.” He stared through her as if he couldn’t see her. Only now did she notice the letter in his hand. “Yes. As you know I served in the military there many years ago, and I’ve just received notice from his majesty that my services are required again. Apparently there is some sort of a uprising, and they are in need of good officers.” “I see. And when will you be back?” She took a step towards him as anguish crossed his face. “I don’t believe I will be. So few do. Between the locals and the diseases and the distance. It is highly unlikely that I will be returning.” He was so distracted that he had failed to notice her moving closer until she was standing right in front of him. “Belle.” He said her name as a low grumble as she had reached up her hand to cup the side of his face. His eyes closed with longing as he felt her skin against his. “Oh sweetheart. Don’t be afraid, it will only be for a short time and then we can be together again.” Frowning he reached up to remove her hand from his face and stepped away. “No. No I can not and will not tie you to a man that will not be returning.” “You don’t know that.” “I do. I know it in my bones and sure as I am looking at you.” He had moved to the window and sat down on the window seat. “This...attachment..that you and I have formed can not continue. I will leave and your life will go on.” She dashed over to kneel at his side as she felt tears begin to fall down her cheeks. “But Robert. You can always take me with you. I can go with you.” He looked down at her sadly. “That is simply out of the question. That region is no place for a lady, you would come to resent me in time.” “But we love each other! How could that ever happen?” “I know.” As she had begun to sob he had pulled her up off the floor into her lap and removing his gloves had begun to wipe away her tears. “I know. But this is how things must be.” “But why? Why can’t you just refuse?” Even as she said it, she knew that he would never shirk a duty like that. “I’m not some country gentleman who never stirred except to say I told you so. I have this wee body to throw into service and not much to live for.” He had stopped wiping away her tears and had wrapped his arms around her waist, placing his head on her shoulder. “You’re wrong. To live for. You have something to live for.” “What’s that?” He lifted his head to look at her, and she knew this was her chance. She leaned forward and kissed him softly. He didn’t react at first, but then his arms tightened around her waist and he pulled her closer moving his lips against hers. She felt his tongue gently touch against her lips, and we she opened her mouth, she found the kiss going even deeper. She wound her fingers through his hair as they clung to one another. Breaking apart they stared at one another still entwined in each other’s arms. “Stay with me tonight.” The words had left her before she could stop herself. But if she was going to lose him, she wanted at least one memory to hold on to. It was a risk to even ask, but if they were truly to be parted forever it was worth it. He looked at her sadly and disentangling himself from her arms stood up and walked away. “Do you think me no better than Gaston Prescott? Seduce a woman and then walk away leaving her with nothing?” “But we love each other.” He paced away from her. “I’m certain Prescott told those women that he loved them as well. I stand for more decency than that.” Walking to the door, he looked back at her as she continued to sit on the window seat where he had left her. Even with a red nose and tears streaming down her face, she was still the most beautiful sight he had ever laid eyes on. “It does us no good to prolong our goodbyes. Move on with your life Belle. Be happy. At least one of us should be happy.” And with that he was gone. The next few months were the most difficult of Belle’s life. Other locals who had been called up to serve in the Navy or in the campaign died within months. It seemed as if Lord Gold was correct. If it wasn’t the natives, it was the disease. Then Belle’s father had confessed that he had nearly run the estate into the ground. Not wanting to let down the people that she felt responsible for, Belle had turned to managing the one working farm on the property. Dove, not having been called up, had stepped in to show her the ropes. She was grateful that her wool and yarn were enough to support them all-apparently she had a gift for working with sheep and goats. Smiling out at the fields, she had often felt close to her beloved in those quiet moments. No letters came, but then she hadn’t expected any. When she had gotten notice that Liam Jones had died of malaria she had wept for days. Not for Jones, although he had been a kind man. But from fear for Lord Gold. She would stay up for nights begging God or any higher power listening to just make sure that he arrived back alive. Even if they were to be forever apart, she thought the world a better place with him in it. Soon, she was spending so much time out at the farm that she decided it would be better to live there full time. There she could live the simple quiet life that she now craved. Parties no longer held any fun. Her friendships were as close as ever, but she tired of the looks of the older women. She tried to be happy, but happiness seemed to escape her. The first Christmas after he had left she had simply sat in the dark, staring at the invitation to Mary Margaret’s first Christmas ball, remembering the feel of his lips upon hers.
8
That was a very long time ago. I'm trying to remember what I was into when I was 8. Horses. Lisa Frank. Babysitters Club books. Soccer.
Apologies for the random ask, but I was searching tumblr for ouat and Katsu and I found you. As it happens a friend of mine is going to be cosplaying Mr. Gold and I'll be doing yellow dress (cheeseburger date) Belle at Katsu and I'd love to see some other Oncers! Does your group have any definite plans as of yet?
Hey, random is what asks are for! :3
We'd love to see you guys at Katsu, too! We are prooobably wearing the Once costumes on Saturday in the mid-day area, but we're still finalizing plans and photoshoot times. (I also don't know if there's an OUAT gathering or not - I'm gonna look into that soon, haha.) I will definitely post our schedule a week before the con or so, so we should make it a point to meet up!
RSS Part 2, Magic of the Mundane.
Finished my present for KleptoMaven, who prompted: Snowed in, tea, sexy cuddles.
Smut now added!
Rumbelle Secret Santa: Magic of the Mundane
Summary: Written for KleptoMaven, who prompted: Snowed in, tea, sexy cuddles. Rumpelstiltskin reflects on a perfect evening and how the mundane has a magic all it’s Own.
Rating: NC17 Smut smut smut.
-
It’s not cold in Neverland—impossibly warm, really, too warm. Muggy and always, always, damp. His clothing sticks to him in entirely unpleasant ways. Of course leather and silk and dragon hide stick, but it’s different here, certainly nothing to what they felt like in the Old World.
(Oh, of course, he had sweat in that world too—often her fault as well, that, making his clothes stick and cling in all the wrong places).
That’s what he thinks on—can’t stop thinking on, that night, as his son and the two women who both might once have been his daughters all go to save his grandson. Yes, as he goes to do the one selfless act he’s ever dared commit, all his mind can concentrate on is that one perfect night he shared with his True Love. He should be thinking of Bae and Henry and Mal—Pan, but all he can think of is bloody Belle and that one night of wintry, cold, perfection, but then, he’d always been a selfish creature, even to the last. They’d had a few short months of perfection, while the Savior and her mother, the indelible princess Snow had been cast back into their magical realm. It had been a blessing, that time with Belle—little had he known it then, but now he knows. It had been commonplace and some would say mundane, but it had been perfect. Completely perfect.
-
She walked to his shop for lunch that day as she did most days.
They rarely had time with one another, one Charming or the other demanding a morsel of his time and power, and so Belle had become all the more determined to spend whatever spare moments he had together.
She loves walking, loves seeing the shops and the children and all the newness. He can’t blame her, after twenty-eight years locked away in a cell (and he saw the size of it, took all his will power not to blast the damned place to smithereens in the aftermath of the curse breaking and the return of magic to Storybrooke, but her voice in his head had been the only thing to still his hand). She loves walking, always has, he supposes, but he’s just now learning it.
When she bursts in from the cold, he looks up from where he’d been attempting to look busy shining his antiques (he’d not been) to find her cheeks rosy and her smile beaming, “It’s snowing again!”
He smirks, “I see that.” He limps over to her, and after taking her coat, brushes the quickly melting flakes from her dark hair. “Is it starting to stick?”
She looks up at him, curiosity in her features, “Stick?”
“Ah,” he explains, realizing his error, “what they say here when the snow begins to accumulate on the ground and the roads.”
“It sticks,” she repeats, with a little nod, as she does with all the new turns-of-phrase he teaches her. Belle smiles when he nods back in ascent, and the way her lips plump make him think of their special corner in the library where she’s hung a sprig of mistletoe for just the two of them to wander beneath whenever they take their lunch at her place of work.
Apparently her mind’s not far from that subject matter either, because she lifts up on her toes, giving him a quick peck on the lips, “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
They enjoy half-warm lasagna from Granny’s, lunch slowly bleeding into afternoon snack, and with a visit from a few townsfolk interrupting their solitude every quarter of an hour or so, it’s near-on four o’clock when Belle states she should probably return to the library for a few hours before close. The idea is met with a pointed lack of enthusiasm from her partner.
He catches up with her where she stands eyeing books beneath the glass countertop, wrapping his arms around her waist, “But you’ve only just got here.” Nuzzling her neck, he adds, “and it’s rather too cold out there.”
“Rumple,” Belle chides, but he can hear the smile in her voice, “now what kind of librarian would I be if I’m never there.”
Daring to run his thumbs up her sides, close as he dares to the underside of her breasts, he tells her, “One with a very happy boyfriend.”
She giggles at that. “Rumple.” It becomes a moan when he does dare venture to palm one of her breasts, the other hand pressed against her stomach. He smiles as he kisses her neck; he likes that she’s no longer ill-fed as the state he’d found her after the hospital. She was back to her old self, as he’d known her in the Enchanted Forest: happy, healthy, and close enough to touch.
“I have to go.”
“But you don’t,” he turns her around in his arms and kisses her.
Belle responds by wrapping her hands around his neck, “You’re terrible,” she says into his mouth
“Yes, and you like it,” he mumbles.
Pulling back, she admits, “Perhaps.” Adding a final quick peck, she finishes, “but only a little.” She pulls away, as he sighs, “And that’s all you get, because I really do have to go back to the library for a bit.”
He watches as she slips on her coat and boldly asks, “And after?”
“Hm?”
“Can I come over later, after you’re finished?”
She smiles, brightly, “I’d like that very much.”
“Good. I’ll walk you back.”
-
“Oh no!”
Agreeing with her sentiment, Rumpelstiltskin admits, “This presents something of a problem.
Standing at the corner of Main Street, they eye the rather large snowdrift that’s piled up in front of the library door—as well as the door to Belle’s new apartment.
“So much for opening again today,” he says, only a slight gloating to his tone, “it would seem.”
She gives him a light smack on the chest, “Rumple, it’s not funny. How am I supposed to get into my home tonight.”
He knows exactly what is supposed to happen, the only logical solution, but he does not voice it just yet. Raising his wrist, ever so lightly, he offers, “I could always fix the problem with a little—“
“No,” she tells him sternly, “no magic.” Slipping her arm through his, she sighs, “I was going to make us dinner.”
He smiles at that, the proof that she’d always expected him to stay with her, that she thought of him and their evenings perhaps as much as he thought of her. He brings her fingers to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “It’s no matter, love.” He pulls out his cellular, dialing the proper number.
“Who are you calling?”
“Dove—he’ll have this cleared by tomorrow,” he tells her, the phone to one ear.
“Tomorrow?”
“Indeed. He’s practically a giant, but without the aid of magic, I’m afraid human capital can only accomplish so much. He might make use of his plow, in addition to the snow blower—“ He drops his words when he notes her confused face. “I’ll explain those later—yes, Dove. There you are. You’re what? Seeing to the heater at the apartment complex off seventh? Fine. Afterward see to the large drift obstructing the library—yes, just accumulation, and then I think the snow trucks have piled some atop that as well--uh, huh--thank you, Dove.”
Gold disconnects, slipping the phone back into his suit jacket pocket. “Dove will take care of it. Not to worry.” He smiles down at her, glad that even as an invalid, in this world he can still be of use to his Belle.
She nods, smiling, “And I suppose you have some plans of where to keep me warm in the meantime?”
He smirks, “I do indeed.”
She too has a quirk to her smile, “I guess we don’t have to go back to the shop—since I can’t exactly open the library. Would only be fair for you to close early as well.”
“Quite right, only fair thing to do.”
They laugh and begin their walk back together, so he can lock up the pawnshop and drive them home in the Cadillac, when Belle, her gingerly steps sure (and he knows she’s careful, keeps hold of his arm not only for her own stability but to also be of use to him should he fall—it irks him, but at least he gets to touch her, even for such a reason as that), says a wry tone to her voice, “You know, it’s almost like you engineered this.
“Oh really.”
“Yes, because you didn’t want me to leave, and now here we are, and staying at yours for the night as well.”
He leans closer, speaking right into her ear, his breath brushing her cheek, “Yes, but think, dear, my warm house: I can make us a fire. The bed too is big enough—you could take a bath if you’d like. A chilly night’s perfect for that, love.”
Belle smiles up at him, “Well, I do really like all of those things.” She nudges him with her hip, “one thing in particular.”
Mr. Gold feels heat rush to his face—he does not blush. Men don’t blush. Clearing his throat, he ushers her to the car, locking up the shop for the night, so they can begin their evening together.
-
Dinner’s nothing special. They eat a mix of leftovers from their lunches of late—Gold hadn’t the time to go grocery shopping recently, and Belle’s dinner supplies were trapped away in her snow-covered apartment, and so they eat mix of their lasagna, splitting half a burger between them and the sides from two separate picnics she’d packed for them on Monday and Tuesday. He regrets being ill-prepared for their little sleepover, but Belle seems pleased enough, and sitting with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and enjoying tea in front of the fire, their finished plates still on the coffee table having eaten in the living room, as the two of them watch the snow continue to fall outside, he must admit, it’s very pretty.
The tea is chamomile, and mixed with Belle’s perfume and the smell of the fire, he thinks he’s never smelled anything sweeter—but she’s drowsy, of course she is, her morning spent with the schoolchildren, bringing them books, teaching them all about her library and how to read the catalogue, he remembers her telling him earlier in the day at his shop.
Suddenly she sits up out of his embrace, bursting forth a yawn and a big stretch. As she reaches for their dishes, Rumpelstiltskin tries to stop her, “You don’t have to deal with those, Belle. I can—“
“Nonsense,” she waves him off, “you cooked. The least I can do is clean up.”
“Hardly call it cooked—warmed up, is more like it. In the microwave, no less.”
She giggles at him, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead, “Now hush. I’ve got this handled, silly.”
Once she’s gone, he feels rather useless, hearing her move around in his kitchen, humming to herself. At that moment, his mobile phone rings again. “Gold here—yes, very good. Thank you, Dove.”
His hired hand was finished with Belle’s sidewalk.
Disconnecting he realizes perhaps he ought to have been more specific on the somewhat extended time frame—one night to be exact. Frowning, he knows he must tell her that she can go home if she likes. If she prefers. Then, a thought occurs to him.
Gold rushes upstairs, with all the speed with which his leg will allow.
-
When Belle returns to the living room, she’s surprised to find it empty. “Rumple?” she calls.
“Up here,” she hears him reply from the second story.
Smiling, she goes upstairs, finding him in the bathroom of the master bath, “Here you are.”
He turns round, and Belle can’t help the flutter in her stomach she feels at him more casually dressed. He’s taken off his jacket, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows—hardly any less than the usual pristine manner he in which he dresses himself here, but the look certainly appeals to her.
“Hi,” he smiles with the side of his mouth, “Thought I’d run you a bath, love.”
“Oh! I’d forgotten all about that.” She walks over to give him another quick kiss on the cheek, “That’s very sweet, and I do love baths, only thing I don’t really like about my apartment, really.”
His face falls.
“Not that I don’t love your gift, because I do. It’s just I still enjoy a bath over these new showers from time to time.”
“I understand, Belle, and you’re more than welcome to mine anytime you like.”
His words are hesitant, and she fights not to let the slight disappointment show on her face. She’s said something wrong, but she can’t quite tell what—and ever since the kidnapping there’s been a distance between them. She doesn’t know how to solve it, except to keep on gently pulling down those walls, whenever she finds them, and perhaps eventually there’d be nothing left separating her from Rumpelstiltskin, not magic, nor lies, nor fear.
Just love—and that’s certainly no wall at all.
“May I borrow your robe?” she asks.
He nods, and she thinks she sees his eyes go a little wider at the idea, which had been her intention all along. She slips off all her clothes in the closet and puts on his robe, as well as pins up her hair to keep it dry, before returning to the bathroom. As she enters, she watches him test the water a final time before turning off the facet.
“Perfect, if I do say so myself,” he tells her, wiping his hand on the hand towel on the sink, his eyes darting to her form quickly before turning to his own reflection.
“Good,” Belle says, slipping in beside him. Her hands are steady and she begins to undo his neck tie.
“What—what are you doing?”
“Why undressing you of course.”
“Me?”
“Mhm,” she nods, sliding the necktie from his shoulders, setting it on the sink. Belle then slips between him and the countertop, working on the buttons of his pressed shirt, “The bathtub is certainly large enough for both of us, don’t you think?”
“Well yes, but—“
“Then what’s the problem?” she asks, getting on her toes to kiss his neck, her hands tugging the shirt from his waistband.
“It’s just that—well, I—I made the bath for you, Belle.”
“Yes, and I like my baths with Rumpelstiltskin in them,” she tells him playfully, her hands sliding down his shoulders to clasp his hands, “or don’t you want to do that? Be all warm and relaxed with me in the water.”
The noise he makes tells her that quite the contrary, he wants it very much. Nodding, he gives in to her, “Alright.”
“Good.” Stepping forward, she turns him around, encouraging him to sit on the little upholstered bench in front of the sink. He allows her to lead him, allows her to continue undressing him, taking off his shirt and undershirt, his leather belt and leather shoes, his socks, watch and ring—all the while starring at her like he can hardly believe she’s real.
“What?” she asks finally, looking up, he only in his pants and undergarments. “Something wrong with my face?”
Rumpelstiltskin opens his mouth only to shut it again. At length, he finally tells her, his knuckles running across her cheek, “You don’t have to do this?”
She laughs, “It’s hardly a chore, getting you out of your clothes,” she leans up onto her knees, to kiss him, whispering in a sultry voice (or what she imagines to be sultry—she’s hardly sexy, not like Ruby or even Regina the queen, but she thinks the way he sucks in a breath means he thinks her plenty sexy), “especially since I know I’m getting the better end of the bargain.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” he sputters, and taking hold her shoulders, he puts some distance between them. “I mean,” he sighs, “you don’t have to do this, any of it.”
She gives him a curious look. “What are you talking about?”
“Dove finished clearing the snow in front of your apartment. You can go back there. I’ll drive you now, if you’d prefer.”
Belle stares at him, and then, she begins to laugh. Shaking her head, she stands and dropping the robes without warning, she steps into the bathtub telling him, “Get in here you silly man.”
She sighs, as she sinks into the water up to her neck, refusing to see if he’s followed her orders, however, she smiles when she hears the rustle of clothing.
“Lean forward,” he tells her, a hand to her shoulder.
Belle does as he asks, and listens carefully for any slip, but he gets into the tub without problems and getting comfortable, leaning her back against her chest, she asks, “See now isn’t this nice?”
“Indeed,” he pauses a moment, before allowing his hand to trail up and down her arm, “You could still go home after the bath, if that’s why—“
“Rumple,” she chides, she turns around, gliding easily to face him, “Where else would I stay after a wonderful night with you, when I’m clearly trying to take advantage of you, as they say.” She’s teasing, trying to use a phrase he has used more than once, but one that feels foreign to her, “I love you—and I want to stay the night with you.”
She stares at the wide-eyed expression he wears before giving him a quick kiss on the lips, sliding her hands down his torso, “Now what must I do to convince you of that.” She runs her thumbs over his nipples lightly before kissing his neck, letting her hands slowly wrap around his length.
They’ve laid together before, and she’d like to think she’s getting rather good (or at least, not entirely awful at this coupling. The way he moans seconds the idea. “Keep up with that and this bath is going to be anything but relaxing.”
His hands run down her back, tracing her spine, and low beneath the water, and Belle hums in approval, leaning her head into the crook of his neck, “Oh no, wouldn’t want that, would we?” she asks him, punctuating her words by running her thumb under the edge of his head. He’s already heavy and hard in her hands, and his words ring true. Of course she desires him, but she always wants there to be no rush, carrying on the leisurely way they’ve been with one another all evening.
All day really.
Smiling to herself, she kisses the hollow of his throat, his adam’s apple, and upward to his chin, cheeks, and his ear. “You have a point,” she whispers into it, “Let me go behind you, and hand me that bottle of shampoo.” Without argument, he obliges her, allowing her to slide behind him, passing her the bottle.
“Now what exactly do you have in mind?”
She places another kiss to his neck. “You’ve taken care of me this evening, thought I’d return the favor. Beside, I love your hair.” It’s a strange statement, men usually the one’s to treasure hair (and Rumpelstiltskin does, to be sure), but it’s honest, for Belle loves his hair, long for a man’s and streaked with grey. It’s different in this world, than in the Dark Castle, but she doesn’t mind—perhaps even prefers it as such. What’s more, the fact that he’d worried—feared, really—that Belle desired to be in her apartment, that she only stayed for amenities or convenience. She wants to reassure him that she wants to stay for him.
She wants to remind him of her love.
Accepting the bottle, she urges Rumpelstiltskin to tilt his head backward, allowing her to wet his hair. She squeezes a small amount of the gel into her hand and gently begins to massage his scalp. She runs her fingers through his hair, down to his neck and shoulders, enjoying the way the tension slowly seeped from his muscles into the hot water surrounding them.
Belle takes her time with the wash and the rinse, cupping the water in her hands, keeping the soap from his eyes and face.
It’s nice, she thinks, being able to care for one’s love. In the old world she’d had so little opportunity to be useful to anyone. She revels in the chance now, and perhaps such an act as hers hardly counts as utility, but still, she takes pride in being able to shower Rumple with her affections.
Rolling his neck from side to side, the bones popping loudly, he relaxes back against her, and she wraps her arms around his neck, giving him a loving squeeze. “Better?” she asks.
“Much,” he tells her, “now, it’s my turn to return the favor.” He turns his head, when she doesn’t answer, “come on, dearie.”
She’s hesitant, for she’d not been planning on getting her own hair wet, but remembers the pleasurable feeling of his hands on her back, so she agrees, “If you insist.”
“I do,” he tells her, as she returns to the front, her back before him. She feels his hands begin to search out the pins in her hair, and quickly, it unravels, falling into his hands and into the water. Like all his care toward her, his washing of her hair is gentle and reverent. Belle allows herself to relax, closing her eyes, as his hands knead her skull, and afterward, moving to run up and down her arms and back.
She movement makes her shiver, but only barely, for the massage and bath and the earlier tea having made her drowsy—she realizes she may well fall asleep if he continues his ministrations.
Rumpelstiltskin realizes it too, “Alright, love, time we got out—water’s going cold.”
Belle frowns, not wanting to move from the welcoming water, as well as his soothing arms. “Feels fine to me,” she mumbles—well knowing the water to be on the verge of a tad chilly.
“Belle.”
“Oh, alright,” she gives in, stretching, her body betraying her again with another small shiver. “You’re right.” She stands and grabs a towel, quickly wrapping up her goose-pimpled flesh. Securing the towel around herself, she turns, and extends a hand to Gold, to help him out the tub.
His expression hardens, but only for a moment, before he accepts her hand. Once out, she passes him the other towel, and begins to brush out her wet hair. She passes him his robe, from where she’d left it on the floor; he finds her spare toothbrush under the cabinet. Together, they get ready for bed, and rather seamlessly at that, she thinks to herself.
Belle finishes first, desiring to give Rumpelstiltskin some measure of privacy in his own bathroom before sleeping. In the bedroom, she hands the towel over the edge of a chair and pulls one of his large undershirts from the closet to wear to bed. It’s big enough to hide everything import, and Belle smirks, thinking how different things are in this world—and how much she likes it. She turns off all the lights, save on, and slips into the large master bed to wait for Rumpelstiltskin.
She’s already beginning to nod off when she feels the bed shift as he slips in to it. Smiling, Belle suddenly feels new energy. Turning on to her side, she wiggles over to him, meeting him in the middle of the bed.
(Their bed.)
“Hi,” he says, embracing her, as Belle’s own arms find his shoulders.
“Hi,” she whispers back, “I’m glad it snowed.”
“Me too, sweetheart.”
His reply is calm—too calm, for her liking. Sure, she’s tired, but warring with her desire to rest is a desire that’s been building all day long to show Rumpelstiltskin her love, and to be shown his in return. Sliding a hand down his chest and waist, and finally, turning her wrist to press her hand down along the seam of his pajama pants, she asks, “How glad?”
He makes a pained sound—but she knows there’s nothing of pain in what he’s feeling. “Exceedingly.”
Running two on either side of the thick seam, she can feel him begin to harden again, “Is that so?”
“Oh, yeah,” his hands move from her back to cup each of her cheeks, grasping them tightly. As she runs her hand over his length, he kneads her backside much like how he had her scalp in the bath. Rumpelstiltskin grasps the edges of his shirt, dragging it from the bottom of her thighs upward, allowing his fingers to grasp at her center. “Too hot for knickers tonight, eh?”
Belle, meeting the challenging statement, moves her hand inside his pants, palming the flushed head of his cock, “I didn’t think you’d mind—I can put some on if you’d prefer.”
His fingers dip into her wetness, and drawing them up between her legs, he brushes them against that hardened flesh at the top of her mound. “Absolutely not,” he answers, and pressing his thumb into that sensitive nub, he kisses her, open mouthed and demanding.
Their movements become harried, her hand gripping him, every so often running her thumb over his top, his two fingers rubbing fast over her. Their moans passed to one another through the kiss, doing nothing more than spur them on all the more, and when Belle ever so gently draws her thumb nail lightly over the skin of his head, it’s almost more than Rumpelstiltskin can take. Pulling back, he groans, “Belle.”
“Yes, love?” she asks him, teasingly, her other hand slipping under his waistband to cup his balls as she’s learned he appreciates deeply. “Something you want?”
Growling, he flips her onto her front, moving atop her, “Something indeed.” Taking control of the situation, she lets him—they’ve never made love like this before, back to front. She’s read that it can be very enjoyable for both parties like this in an instructional book she’d run across when cataloguing books in the library before reopening, and she’s eager to try anything with her true love, knowing that he, like her, desires the other’s pleasure first and foremost.
She feels him settle between her legs; she spreads them, to allow him more room, and after getting used to the feeling, Belle rather thinks she likes it, feeling his light weight above her, his hot and hard length pressing against her bottom.
She smiles to herself, as he kisses her neck. She reaches a hand up to twine in his hair, keep him in place, as his own hand snakes beneath both their bodies, finding flicking her a few times before pressing two fingers into her. Belle moans loudly, “Yes, Rumple.”
He continues to pleasure her like that, alternating between running the tips of his fingers over her and pressing them inside of her—finally she can take no more. Turning her head to reach his lips, between kisses, she asks, “Please, Rumple.”
She feels him nod a few times, before pushing himself up on his elbows, and taking himself in hand, enters her fully. They both call out for the intensity of the sensation—full and hot and completely surrounded.
Rumpelstiltskin wraps an arm around her waist to keep her close, instructing, in a strained whisper, betraying his own desperation, “Cross your ankles, love.”
She wonders at the idea, but all the same, nods into the pillow. Once she does however, she feels him trapped inside her even more tightly than before.
“Oh gods, Belle.”
He begins to move within her, slow and steady, a hand still bracing him, holding onto her waist. Each time her reenters her, the heat within Belle continues to climb. Pressed flush to one another, again Rumpelstiltskin reaches a hand to her clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. It takes only little time, before she’s panting and at the very edge.
“Come for me, sweetheart,” he whispers in her ear, and nodding, it requires only a few more twists of his magical fingers to bring her off. Her insides clench around him, a heat like lightning passing through her from her head to her toes. As she pants, spent and utterly relaxed, behind her, she feels Rumpelstiltskin’s body go taut and then immediately slumping down over her, he too having fallen over the edge.
He gives her a few sloppy kisses to her shoulder, but for a few minutes, neither move nor speak, simply try to catch their breath, their sweat-drenched bodies completely worn-out. Finally, he rolls over, and Belle turns to nestle into his side.
As she moves, he catches her chin, guiding her mouth to his for a goodnight kiss. “I love you, Belle.”
She smiles into his chest, eyes shut, and replies in a sleepy voice, “I love you too, Rumple.”
-
As they row to save his grandson, Rumpelstiltskin can’t stop thinking about Belle, his love, and their precious few moments of bliss—but despite truly knowing how little he has, he’d not trade such memories for any others in all the worlds. Never could he trade such mundane trivialities that are to him at least, magic above any other.
kleptomaven replied to your post:if you are reblogging sad belle right now you...
Would you prefer selfies of me crying into my tea?
yes.
