#Rumbelle daughter

[chippedteacupchat]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan Characters: Original Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold Child(ren), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle (Once Upon a Time), Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Queen of Hearts | Cora, Wicked Witch of the West | Zelena, Maurice | Moe French, Baelfire | Neal Cassidy, Emma Swan Additional Tags: Protective Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Parent Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold in the Dark Castle, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Once Upon a Time Fusion Summary:

This story is about what might have happened if Belle and Rumplestiltskin had entered a romantic relationship earlier during their time in the Dark Castle. One night, they share True Love’s Kiss, but something causes Rumplestiltskin to doubt Belle’s love for him, leading to events similar to what happens in the canon storyline. However, on the night Regina lies about Belle's death, she gives Rumple a baby who bears a striking resemblance to him. The curse is also never cast in this universe.

Chapter 3 is done! 💖

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: Rose Daughter

Prompts: Every day. Monster, fear, cold sweat. Celebrity.

Group: B

-

Tomorrow

“You’re late, dearie.”

Belle jolts, whirling around, her feet skidding on the shelf of wet rock. She manages to keep her balance, wobbling on the edge of the crystalline pool. Two dark eyes bob above the water, sharp and observant, unsympathetic to her flailing.

“I’ve told you not to sneak up on me like that,” she huffs.

The creature lifts further out of the water, looking menacing with his mane of matted curls hanging in his face. Then, he shakes his head like a wet dog and grins.

“Your lack of spa-cial aware-ness has naught to do with me.”

The words are stodgy in his mouth, so he pronounces them slowly. These were acquired from the book she read aloud to him yesterday. Rumple’s mind was a funny wee lagoon; when she cast new words into it, they usually resurfaced as ammunition to tease her.

He slithers to the pool’s edge, moving through the water like an eel. He props his elbows up on the rocks.

“You’re late,” he says again.

“How can you even tell?”

His crocodilian eyes shift to a silver pocket watch that dangles from a knobbly finger of overhanging rock. It looks suspiciously like the one that used to hang from a fob on Jefferson’s waistcoat.

Belle’s lips press into a thin line. “Yes, well, it’s becoming quite tricky to leave my house without being badgered about another ‘recovery mission’. I think I might need to start charging for my services. You’re becoming too…popular in the village.”

Notorious is a more appropriate term, but she knows he would enjoy that label far too much.

It is not uncommon to see Finfolk off the coast of the Orkney Islands. It is, however, unheard of to catch more than a glimpse of talon and tail as they steal a fish off the end of your line. They don’t linger near the shore. And they certainly don’t take up residence in a grotto at the base of the headland, transforming the limestone ledges into a personal museum of pilfered trinkets.

“I hear you’ve been tipping rowboats again,” she says.

“Shouldn’t have rowed so close to the cave,” he trills, “Def-ini-tely shouldn’t have been out on the water if you don’t know how to swim.”

Rumple’s behavior has elevated him from overgrown sardine to local celebrity; a spectacle at the best of times and a menace at the worst. And when Belle’s routine visits to the grotto became public knowledge, the villagers thrust a title upon her as well. Hostage negotiator.

She scans the cave, searching for possible new additions to his hoard. She feels like she’s playing one of those ‘spot the difference’ games they print on children’s menus. Ah, there. Coiled around a stalagmite is a heart-shaped locket, its ruby pendant winking in the reflection of the pool.

“You know, Miss Lucas used to have a necklace just like that. She took it off to swim one afternoon and, by the time she’d paddled back to the docks, it had vanished.”

“Extra-ordin-ary coincidence.” His expression might have looked innocent on a small boy or a puppy, but it only succeeds in making him look all the more devilish.

Belle shakes her head and bends down to unravel the locket. She pockets it, ignoring his cry of protest.

“And I’m going to need the tackle box you nicked from Marco’s boat.”

He scowls up at her. She can just imagine his tail flicking with irritation. He must have known she’d come asking for that particular prize, as he’d stashed it beneath the water rather than displaying it above.

“What if I trade you for it?” she offers.

His gaze darts to the basket cradled in the crook of her arm. His furrowed brow gives a faint twitch, his resolve instantly weakening. Hook. Line. Sinker.

With a profane grumble, he ducks back under the water. His vocabulary has been increasing in color ever since he started spying on the sailors at the docks.

Belle watches him disappear into the deep as she sits down at the pool’s edge and begins unlacing her boots. She has learned the hard way that heels have rubbish traction.

Some say that jewelry and fishing gear aren’t all that the Fin like to steal. The villagers tell tales of those that have been ferried away to a kingdom beneath the waves. The legends serve as requiems for the men and women who were dragged to the depths and eternally imprisoned in unlawful marriages to the Fins that snatched them. Belle thinks that’s nonsense. The Finfolk detest humans and – typically – want as little to do with them as possible. It would be like kidnapping a cockroach from the gutter to keep as a pet.

Still, the superstition persists. Even when begging her to rescue his tackle box from the sea beast’s lair, Marco had cautioned, “Be careful, girl. He’ll steal you too, if he gets the chance.”

Belle dips her toes into the cool water. Marco’s words echo in her mind as she feels a clawed hand latch onto her ankle. Her scream bounces off the cave walls. Rumple’s head breaches the water’s surface again, eyes glinting with wicked glee.

“…for…for god’s sake, Rumple,” she gasps, pressing her hand over her chest, trying to work her heart out of her throat.

He laughs, baring two rows of razor-sharp teeth. She’s reminded of what a terror he must be to unsuspecting fishermen.

His grin wanes when it comes time to surrender his treasure. Rumple reluctantly hands over the tackle box, looking so forlorn that she almost regrets taking it from him. She knows how enamored he is with the little lures and bobbers.

He plants both hands on the rock and, lean muscles straining, heaves himself up onto the rim beside her. His tail hits the stone with a wet slap.

No artist has ever truly rendered the ethereal beauty of a Fin. They refuse to be pinned to a canvas and captured in a frame. There is no shade of paint that can reproduce the exact green-gold color of their tails, nor their iridescent quality in the sunlight. Belle’s eyes follow the scales up his body to where they become a smattering over his belly, just about where most human men have a trail of fine hair.

Aware of where her eyes are fixed, Rumple reaches for the basket with both hands like an impatient child. Her reflexes are a tad quicker and she slides it out of reach.

“No. Don’t grab. It’s not polite.”

He gives her a rude gesture – something else he undoubtedly picked up from the sailors. The effect is somewhat less potent with his webbed fingers.

After the thermos of hot chocolate had gone down so well last week, Belle suspects his serrated teeth might be quite sweet. She produces a small bundle from the basket, unwrapping the gingham handkerchief to reveal a crumbly stack of homemade shortbread. Rumple peers at it, captivated as the scent of honey and coriander hits his nose.

“Dry your hands first or it’ll go all mushy.”

Rumple does dry his hands; not on the handkerchief, but on her jumper, his talons snagging the woolen yellow fibers on her sleeve. He swipes a wedge before she can delay him any longer.

He takes a small, suspicious bite. She can tell the exact moment that the butter-rich biscuit dissolves on his tongue. His eyes go wide and he looks to her with such childlike delight, it makes her heart beat wildly against her rib cage.

“There are otters up the coastline. They have pups,” he says suddenly, as though trying to bolster his half of the trade. “I’ll take you to see them.”

“I’m not dressed for swimming.”

He rolls his eyes. That isn’t something he learned from the sailors. That is something he adopted from her.

“You can’t get these clothes wet, but you can put on different clothes speci-fic-ally to get wet?”

He wrinkles his nose indignantly. His derisive ‘urgh, humans’ is unspoken, but is heard all the same.

“I’ll wear something suitable tomorrow. You can bring me then.”

Tomorrow. He loves that word more than anything.

His sullen expression melts away. He leans in expectantly. Now, this is special. This is something he taught her. Belle meets him halfway, resting her forehead against his. His crooked nose presses into her cheek, their faces slotting together like two puzzle pieces. They stare at one another for a long, quiet moment. His lips twist into a lopsided smile and he pulls back.

That means, ‘I’m happy’. It means, ‘thank you’.

It means, ‘love you’.

Rumple’s tail thumps the rock again, splashing water over her legs, the droplets clinging to her calves like a sheen of cold sweat. She watches him examine a second piece of shortbread like it’s made of solid gold.

‘Yes, tomorrow’, Belle thinks, smiling down at where his fin grazes her ankles.

‘Perhaps he’ll steal me tomorrow.’

-

[saveme-storybrooke-potc]

Georgie: Have you been wrestling? Hope Jones: No, why? Georgie: You got a big purple bruise on your neck. Hope Jones: *looks in compact mirror* Oh my God, Gideon! Georgie: You name your bruises too? Georgie: *shows one on his arm* Georgie: This is Steve!

[violetfaust]

That poll I just reblogged is like a diamond drill bit to my soul.

RUMBELLE SHOULD HAVE HAD A DAUGHTER.

Rumbelle should have had a daughter.

RUMBELLE. SHOULD. HAVE. HAD. A. DAUGHTER.

Gideon and Bae (and Alice), I love you to the depths of my chilly heart, but Rumbelle should also have had a daughter. Rumple and Belle were born to have a little girl.

They was robbed.

WE was robbed. Mugged at gunpoint in an alley. Our houses burgled. Our 401(k)s cleaned out.

Aurora/Margot Gold, my beloved. Claire/Drizella/Ivy Gold and Dawn/Anastasia Gold, my darlings. Matilda Merlin "Tilly" Gold, my sweet baby.

[forevercaroline]

I’m always writing and here is what I’m currently working on. @karinanic

1. Battle for Royalty:

Caroline and Harlan come out of the tattoo place and are headed to his jeep when Caroline says. “I’m going actually shopping with isadora so you can just drop me back off at the villa.”

“Your never going to let me forget that are you?”

“No never. Although if you lived at the Villa we could go ‘shopping’ anytime of the day.”

He side eyes her, he has no clue what she talking about. “What?”

Caroline looks down at the new bandage on her wrist. He has the same bandage on his wrist too. She is now nervous about this. “Your only going to be here for a couple more weeks and it’s probably been expensive living at the hotel. Plus it’s kinda lonely living in that mega mansion villa all by myself after uncle Sawyer went to the Brazil.“

“I’ll think about it.”

Caroline smiles and teases. “It is a big home maybe we could invite Cyrus to live with us too.”

Harlan with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand he playfully shoves her shoulder. The blonde laughs.

As he pulls into the driveway of the villa and she gets out he calls after her. “I’ll be back tonight to pick you up with my stuff.”

She gasp and gets a huge smile on her face. “Really?”

“Like you said it’s been expensive living in the hotel. And you have this mega mansion villa.”

“Fuck you.” She laughs as he pulls back down the driveway.

2.Coming home

Caroline takes a breath and prepares herself it’s been a long time since she’s been to this home and even longer since she has seen the woman who lives here. She takes another breath and goes to get out of the car. There are a sworn of reporters outside this home. As she is making her way through the crowd the front door opens and two guys leave one in his eighties and one in his early thirties.

As they pass each other in the crowd Caroline and the younger man stare at each other neither can believe they are seeing each other again.

“Come on John Ross.”

“I’m going to stay back.”

John Ross makes his way through the crowd again and slips into his moms home. He waits for what seems like forever for his mom and Caroline to stop talking. When he sees Caroline get up and leave the room he cuts her off and drags her into another room.

He pins her up to wall his hand on her hip the sharp intake of breath when his hand touched her. He leans in and his hot breath tickles her ear as he says. “What are you doing back in Dallas?”

Caroline’s hands run down the lapels of his suit jacket his eyes watch her hands move down his lapels and pull him even closer to her. “Your not happy to see me.”

They are inches apart and his hand moves up her thigh, he smirks when he hears her sharp Intake of breath. “Why did you leave?”

She leans in like she is going to kiss him gets inches from his lips before moving to his ear to whisper. “Come to the Omni tonight and I’ll tell you.”

Her lips brush his and she can feel how hard he is through his dress pants, their bodies are so close. Even after ten years their bodies crave each other.

He watches her leave and tries to pull himself together when he hears. “John Ross I thought you left with your father?”

3. Forbes

Peter Forbes walks into his office at his estate and sitting on the desk is todays mail. As he is going threw it there’s one envelope that catches his eye. It’s addressed to his daughter Lexi. He cuts it open and inside is a letter. “Your daughter is so beautiful I could watch her all day.”

A photo of Lexi leaving the estate in her blue convertible with Ethan and Aiden in the back falls out and on to his desk. There is no return address either. He checks his phone and it says 7:30pm. Lexi didn’t have any night classes and he’s worried about her.

The front door opens and he hears laughing. “Where were you?”

Lexi looks over at her dad coming into the foyer. Behind her is her two best friends Ethan and Aiden. “I told you we were going to the Montecito house and then on our way home we went to In n Out. Why is something wrong?”

Peter shakes his head. He doesn’t want to worry her. As he returns to his office he makes a call. “I need the best security team.”

I also have a list of wips I want to get back I’m just busy with other things.

Fast life: picks up a couple weeks after the last chapter. You meet Klaus sister Rebekah and she didn’t follow in the footsteps of her brother. Rebekah‘s boyfriend Vaughn is a criminal, and is forcing Lexi to drive for him holding her boyfriend Diego’s life over her head.

Magneto family: Wanda is looking for Billy and Tommy and instead finds Magneto and Peter and together they find Lorna and when the family is reunited they find Billy and Tommy.

My immortal love: Caroline and her sons Sebastian and Enzo work to solve Sebastian’s curse.

The new mikaelson family: it’s been a month since liz has died, Caroline doesn’t want to leave her and Klaus’ room, Katherine decides to help her and get her busy with planning her wedding to Elijah but they also find out the mikaelson home might be double booked since Hayley has claimed the home for her wedding to a werewolf.

Secret sister: there is a time jump and Caroline is the only one who notices that Stefan is not Stefan.

Rumbelle’s daughter: Davina brings her grandfather back and there is a town meeting about rumbelle’s children causing chaos in storybrooke.

Neverland twins: Henry is in neverland and so is his family only problem is Henry is with Peter and the lost boys. They think they have an in with tinker bell little do they know tinker bell is friends with Peter’s right hand’s twin sister.

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Also I really liked rumples father/daughter relationship with tilly. I had kinda hoped rumbelles baby would be a girl or they would have another baby that was a girl so I love that he still had that dynamic with her. And it's sweet that she wasn't in his blood related circle of people he cared about

[wastingstarsss]

What are some of your rumplestilskin headcanons and also some of your rumbelle headcanons?

Oooo interesting ask!!! Also thanks for the spam 🥰

Okay Rumple headcanons:

I like to think he’s brilliant at making soup. Any soup- all homemade, all super creamy and flavourful. It’s always just the right texture and maybe he even has a personalised cookbook with his soup recipes in (in which he adds homemade bread recipes too)

Can and will knit when he’s anxious and away from his spinning wheel

His favourite colour is a dark purple-red, because it makes him think of the dagger and so makes him feel powerful. His second favourite colour is light blue because it makes him think of Belle

Wants a pet dog to have with Belle but is scared shitless of the damned thing getting hurt in all of Storybrooke’s shenanigans

Wont admit it, but he wants to get to know Charming better. They deffo have a sort of friendship in the early seasons of the show, and I like to think that beneath his hostility, Rumple just yearns to be besties with Charming.

^^following this, after Gideon is re-born as a baby, I like to think that the hostility between Rumple and all of the Charming/Swan family disappears and he has picnics with them- he and Charming have competitions about who is the better grandfather

Rumbelle headcanons:

Alike Rumple, Belle has anxiety and stims with her hands when she’s anxious. Her go to method is twirling her wedding ring on her finger- it makes her feel safe

It’s unsaid but they both want a daughter. However after Gideon is re-born they’re just so relieved that their son is back in their arms, safe again, that they don’t even try for another pregnancy in fear of losing that child (Neal)

Belle can bake, Rumple can cook. Rumple can’t bake, Belle can’t cook.

Rumple likes detective films. Belle likes rom-coms. They both adore the Knives Out movies

Belle likes to sleep in in the mornings, whereas Rumple gets up early. The only exception is when he’s having a bad flare up with his chronic pain in his ankle

Sometimes Rumple picks up on traces of Lacey in Belle’s attitude. Maybe she glares at someone or she snaps at him, and a little part of him gets super turned on at the thought

[beeeinyourbonnet]

By Hook or by Crook | Chapter 15

Pairing: Rumbelle

Rating: E, eventually

Summary: Just when Belle thinks she’s doomed to a life without adventure, an investment banking firm all the way from New York City plops its new headquarters in Storybrooke’s abandoned cannery.

From the beginning on ao3

——————————–

Moe French loved his glass koi, and even though he had a hard time relating to his daughter, Belle loved the small hydroponic gardening kit he got her. She didn’t cook much since she lived alone, but maybe she would cook more if she had her very own kitchen herb garden.

Mary Margaret had given her the blanket she’d knitted for her as well as the book Belle had specifically requested, and David gave her a headlamp for reading in the library. Unfortunately, the day after Christmas, Keith Nottingham did drop a gift off for her, but it was just a generic basket of lotions, and she could deal with that.

Belle kept the store closed between Christmas and New Year’s with Tim’s garbled blessing over the phone, but David drove her there every other day to check on Jaq and Gus. As much as she wanted to invite Mr. Gold to ring in the new year with her, she knew the best she could do was catch him as unaware as she had on Christmas Eve and ask him if he wanted to play chess, which she did manage to do once. They were currently tied two-to-two for wins. 

So she rang in the new year with everyone at Granny’s like she did every year, kissing her dad on the cheek at midnight, and then went home to lay in bed, stare at the ceiling, and think about how Mary Margaret was going to have a baby in two days.

Fortunately, the due date in question was a Friday, and while she had skipped the last Friday in Mr. Gold’s office because he closed it for the employees, she didn’t want to skip it today. David dropped her off at 11:30 so she could check on the hamsters, and then she trudged through the snow to the empty Gold and Associates building.

Read on ao3

[lilacsandorangeblossoms]

Hello! My name is Sylvia and I read your story Rumbelle’s daughter where Davina is the daughter of Rumpel and Belle from Once Upon a Time. I would like to ask when you will continue with the story? Because I really like it and I can't wait for the next chapter.

Sorry for the late reply. Thank you for reading that story and for wanting more. I do have plans to go back to that story, I don’t know when but here is a snippet.

“I’m sorry it’s too late, we need him to fight the black fairy.” They all hear a sigh and standing next to the well are two teenagers one blonde and one brunette. The brunette has a sinister look on his face although that is his resting face. He is in a three piece black suit even has a red handkerchief in the pocket his hair is perfectly styled. While the blonde has shaggy hair and is in faded red jeans, black boots, a long sleeve tunic and as always his black cloak. He also has a dagger on him.

“No hug for your dear old dad?” Peter smirks and Rumple looks ready to murder him again while Peter is just thrilled he and Felix are alive again.

Belle rushes over to her daughter. She is not happy that her daughter resurrected the man who killed her husband and father of her children. “Davina you should of talked to us before you did this. Peter Pan only helps himself. This was a mistake, the charming’s are going to want answers and we will protect you from Regina.”

Davina swallows and looks over at her father glaring daggers at Peter she is proud that he hasn’t made a dagger appear and killed Peter yet. “Could they put me in jail for this?”

“Or worse.”

“Peter two minutes you’ve been resurrected and I’m looking at possibly being arrested.”

Rumple takes a breath there is a lot going on and they now have a even bigger problem then they already had. He will have to deal with his newly resurrected father after he deals with keeping his daughter out of jail. He knows there is nothing Regina and the charming’s would like more then to have him or his family arrested, separated or worse thrown out of town.

It is taking everything in Rumplestiltskin to not kill Peter Pan. Him and Belle managed to get everyone in the car luckily they have the cover of night so not many people can see inside their car.

[leaveitalonesky]

Fic Mondays #1 - Sep/24 week 1

ok, so this is a thing I'm trying to make where every week I do a compilation of fics I've read. Since this is the first one I'm doing like a favorite fics kind of thing

How Two Become Three - Chapter 1 - nikonic - Criminal Minds (US TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Fandom: Criminal Minds Ship: Jemily/Reader (poly) Why I rec it: This is the first work in a LONG series (like, really long. Don't know how the author does it). The series varies a lot from angst, to smut, to fluff. I think this author does a really good job portraying and talking about triggering topics. And I absolutely love the consent and kink conversations throughout the stories. I recommend subscribing to the series or the author to get updates, since it's still being updated regularly.

Love Comes Quietly - Chapter 1 - Kattwyllie - Criminal Minds (US TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Fandom: Criminal Minds Ship: Alex Blake/Reader Why I rec it: This is a very sweet roommates turned lovers. I like the writing, and I love the pacing of this fic.

Safety - Chapter 1 - DemonOfPuns - Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) [Archive of Our Own]

Fandom: Resident Evil Village Ship: Alcina Dimitrescu/Reader (at some point reader becomes an original character) Why I rec it: The smut is 10/10, but the development of the relationship both between Sasha and Alcina; but also Sasha and the daughters is one of the cutest things I've read. I think this is one of my favorite fanfics of all time. It's long, it's got a good amount of angst; a good amount of fluff and the smut is sensational.

show me where it hurts - Chapter 1 - andromedusia - The Morning Show (TV 2019) [Archive of Our Own]

Fandom: The Morning Show Ship: Alex Levy/Maggie Brener Why I rec it: This is a masterpiece. It changed the chemistry of my brain and it changed me forever. Not only that, but I feel like there's a scene in this one that if it was canon it would've been an award winning scene.

far from broken - gleamin - The Morning Show (TV 2019) [Archive of Our Own]

Fandom: The Morning Show Ship: LAMB Why I rec it: This is so soft, and so cute. And a beautiful portrait of LAMB as a poly ship. This one changed my brain too, because you know what it made me see Bradley and Maggie differently.

com letras douradas, num papel bonito - jenhardings - The Morning Show (TV 2019) [Archive of Our Own]

Fandom: The Morning Show Ship: Alex Levy/Maggie Brener Why I rec it: The song this fic is based gives the perfect prompt. It's angsty and also kind of sweet at the same time.

Golden Cuffs - Chapter 1 - Kelyon - Once Upon a Time (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Fandom: Once Upon a Time Ship: Rumpelstiltskin/Belle Why I rec it: This is a heavy-BDSM story. It's been a while since I've read it, to be honest with you. But I remember liking it a lot. And yes, this is probably the only fic with a f/m ship. I'm really not a fan of straight ships, I don't read fanfiction of them cause we usually have a lot of canon stuff. But rumbelle had some of the most amazing writers in a fandom, and to be honest, I'm sure there will be more fics of this ship in later editions of fic mondays.

the wine, the women, the bedroom hymns - asexualizing (Specialcookies) - Abbott Elementary (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Fandom: Abbott Elementary Ship: Ava/Melissa/Barbara Why I rec it: This is the best use of a soulmate au scenario in a fic. By far; it's absolutely genius. Just go read it, do yourself that favor. (It's a bit angsty though, be warned.)

what will the signal be for your eyes to see me - TechnicolorRevel - Doctor Who (2005) [Archive of Our Own]

Fandom: Doctor Who Ship: Thirteen Doctor/Yasmin Khan Why I rec it: This is another BDSM story, although not heavy. This one is beautiful, the characters are so well written in this.

a taste of infinity - Linnea_Ancalime - Doctor Who (2005) [Archive of Our Own]

Fandom: Doctor Who Ship: Thirteen Doctor/Reader Why I rec it: One of the few x reader with non binary reader. It's smut, very soft. Delicious stuff.

[kelyon]

Do you know of any Rumbelle ageplay or Mommy/Daddy fics you could recommend please?

In my opinion, the quintessential Rumbelle daddy fic is Nabokov by @nothingeverlost. We also have our fair share of incest or faux incest fics. @thestraggletag has a verse where they're a bother and sister who are just too close. @deliriumsdelight7 has Cursed Ties where (they're cursed to believe) they're father and daughter, but the romantic attraction from the EF hasn't gone anywhere.

Most of the ageplay we've got involves Belle being a teenager. And those aren't really ageplay as much as a teenager AU. Great for teacher/student fics, if you want that.

The closest I can think of for a mommy kink is our proud tradition of Rumbelle lactation porn. Those don't usually have Gold acting infantile, just horny and guilty.

Do any of my fellow perverts have recommendations?

[chippedteacupchat]

Okay, I finally worked up the courage to post the first chapter of my fic.

If it's really bad I am sorry, I am not the best writer.

Rose Gold: The midnight infant

Violent rain beat down on the roof of the Dark castle and lightning stung low hanging trees like a swarm of angry hornets, outlining the plants with a neon glow.

It was roughly around 11:30 pm and Rumplestiltskin was In the main hall spinning straw into gold, as he usually would late into the night.

However for the last couple of months his spinning sessions had become more desolate and empty, normally he would watch the wheel and feel all his worries and regrets slip away and collect in the bucket below with the golden thread, but since the incident with Belle it felt more like his suffering was collecting in a great tangled heap in his head.

Rumple watched intensely, with his eyes fixed on the dull yellow straw, as it bled into a rich golden string. Although his mind was replaying the day Belle had left over and over again as if even his own mind wanted to taunt him.

The two had spent the last two days intimately and at first Rumple started to believe that Belle really did care about him genuinely.

--------------------------------------------------

One warm evening she leaned in close, until he could smell the sweet scent of her lilac perfume on her pale neck, she kissed him and his curse started to melt away ripping away his mask of defence that protected him from the world of betrayal.

A normal person would be pleased that their ugly disguise no longer cloaked their true self from their lover but Rumplestiltskin was a very different type of person, revealing his raw self had only exposed him to pain in the past and he was not about to fall victim to heartbreak again.

Anxiety clouded Rumple’s judgement and he abruptly pulled away from the kiss and let the darkness embed deeper into his soul, a storm of fear and disbelief swirled in his mind until he had convinced himself she must be tricking him, how could she ever really love him?.

Belle angrily defended her love for him “The kiss worked which means it’s true love!”

“Who told you that?” he yelled,

“I don’t know, a women I met at the side of the road,” Rumple’s metallic eyes widened as he realised who orchestrated this cruel trick and he ran to the dusty mirror in the corner to confront Regina,

Who he was sure was observing the catastrophe she created.

“I love you, why won’t you believe me?” a mixture of fury and self hatred built up inside of him

“Because no one could ever love me!” Rumple replied displaying just how vulnerable his heart was.

The next day Belle was asked to leave the castle and never return.

Belle looked deep into her employers eyes before leaving ,

“you could have had happiness if you just believed someone could love you!,

You are a coward Rumplestiltskin,” trying to seem emotionless he looked into the empty space behind her, but his eyes were visibly holding back tears,

“that’s a lie,” he said coldly.

Belle tried to make eye contact revealing to him the warm salty pools of water brewing in her eyes “you just don’t think I can love you, but you will regret it forever! And all you will have is an empty heart and a chipped cup,” she sniffed as water leaked down her face and she walked away.

That face struck Rumple motionless and he realised that her love for him had only been authentic and genuine from the start and he had let his insecurities get the better of him. He collapsed onto the hard concrete, tears pouring down his muted mossy skin, as Belle walked slowly towards the Castle’s black,tall,boney gates until you could only make out her short silhouette and Rumple never saw her again.

--------------------------------------------------

The sound of the iron door handle clattering, woke Rumple from his memory. “Flimsy locks” sneered a female voice from behind him, however this was not Belle’s light chirpy voice. A tall, thin female figure strode in with a malevolent smile sprawled on her face, clutching a black cloth.

Rumplestiltskin knew immediately it was his vile, ex-student Regina,

“I have a deal to discuss. A certain... mermaid.” Regina walked over to a small silver tea set at the other end of the room and began pouring herself a drink.

Expressionlessly Rumple replied “I’m not dealing today.”

He looked as if his soul had been removed and all that was left was a cold unfeeling corpse.

Regina began to chuckle and look straight at him,

“is this about the girl I met on the road?” Her mocking tone growing stronger, “what was her name? Margie? Verna?” Rumple stopped spinning and glared at the wall seriously, “Belle.”

Regina began to cackle even louder and Rumple continued to spin,

“Right. Well...You can rest assured I had nothing to do with that tragedy.” Sharpening her glare on Rumple’s face as bewilderment spread across him and he stood up from the spinning wheel, facing Regina, “what tragedy?".

Regina revelled in the shock her statement had caused, “You don’t know?” She smirked and stirred her tea, “Well 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.” Rumple paused in guilt

“So she needs a...home?” Regina walked closer as if she was making her final chess move, about to win the game.

“They were even worse to her when they discovered she was pregnant.” Rumplestiltskin dropped the tea he was making, causing a piercing crack on the tiles below, his pupil shrunk in shock and fixed themselves on Regina. “He was so cruel to her. He locked her in a tower and sent in clerics to cleanse her soul with scourges and flaying.” The picture of this started to flash in Rumple’s mind he closed his eyes, not wanting to hear anymore so that he could pretend she was still working for him, safe in his castle.

Regina’s grin stretched unnaturally wide as she cleared her throat

“After a while she threw herself off the tower...she died.”

For at least 5 minutes you couldn’t hear anything but the storm’s howls outside and the clinking of Regina’s spoon mixing her tea, like she would a cauldron. Then Regina walked over to the bundle of black cloth on a small cabinet at the side of the room and placed it on the table gently.

“This is all that’s left of her.”

She replied almost choking on her tea from snickering.

Rumple’s eyes were evidently red and puffy from the tears welling up and he tried to avoid eye contact with Regina, to not reveal how weak he was.

“We, we’re done here.” His voice quavered as he spoke. Regina’s heels harshly tapped on the floor below as she strutted out, while running her finger along the antique wooden table in the centre of the room revealing a thick cake of dust,

“the place is dusty Rumple, you should get a new girl.” She flashed a venomous smile and disappeared into the dark hallways towards the exit.

Rumple walked over to a large white cabinet trembling with grief, delicately removing a small china cup with a Persian blue, leaf design painted on the side and a huge dent on the top right. He could feel tears streaming down his cheeks and his throat closing up, he removed a polished golden chalice from it’s wooden display and carefully placed the teacup in it’s place. Closing his eyes and crying so he didn’t have to look at the teacup anymore.

After a couple of minutes Rumplestiltskin stumbled to the table in the centre of the room to examine the mass of black fabric she had left but as he got nearer he noticed something solid and small jab the layer beneath. Rumple agitatedly removed the black material to reveal an infant child sleeping peacefully in the warm fibres of cloth. She was smaller than a usual baby of her age and she had two tiny, pointed ears. Her skin was pale and presented the same olive tint as Rumple’s did. Rumple picked her up as if she were a fragile glass vase and gradually wrapped his arms around the swaddled child, until he was hugging her.

He clutched her tighter, softly weeping at the tragedy of the situation. She stirred and her tiny hand gripped his nose, just as his son Bealfire once had many years ago. “You know I once made a promise to someone a lot like you when they were around the same age as you,” he choked, “I said, I will never, ever leave you and now I want to make that promise to you,” he gazed into her teal, wide eyes and could see Belle’s face smiling at him.

He sat cradling the child into the early hours of the morning. The rain seemed relentlessly forceful, as it hit the windowsills, leaving a greyish liquid stained on the glass and the sunrise was hard to make out as the thick, silver storm clouds shielded the sun from carpeting the world in golden light.

I posted it on Ao3 and will probably add my second chapter tomorrow.

Ao3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59857636

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: Rose Daughter

Prompts: Dark chocolate. Falling in the dark. Constellations.

Group: B

-

Ad Astra

They’re called freckles, apparently.

It had taken Belle some time to figure out what he meant when he said he liked her ‘little dots’. The word tickles him for some reason. It’s a fanciful-sounding thing. Freckles.

The first time he’d laid eyes on her – stretched out on the beach, the brim of her sunhat flopping into her eyes – he thought she might be made of alabaster. The same pearly gypsum as the statues he has found amongst the remnants of shipwrecks. He knows better now, having observed her so intimately. She is lovelier, far more fascinating than the unblemished stone of sculptures. There is such detail to her; the silvery streaks on her thighs and stomach, a few faded scars here and there, and all those gorgeous freckles.

She is the inverse of the night sky. If the sky is soot and coal with tiny pinpoints of light, she is cream and roses, stippled with ink stains. They form wee patterns on her skin like the stars overhead. Constellations, Belle called them. They’ve spent many afternoons lying in the sand, him dripping seawater onto the cover of her mythology book. The names bewitch him. Cassiopeia, Ophiuchus, Andromeda, Vulpecula. They’re prettier than the sort of human language his ears are accustomed to. Their lyrical quality resembles the sounds that his fellow Finfolk trill to one another beneath the waves.

Rumple likes to get her words right. He likes to get them wrong, too. He even does so on purpose, sometimes. Just to hear her darling giggle. Just to watch her plush, pink lips tenderly sound out each syllable as she corrects him. But his tongue takes quickly to the delicate names in her gilded book.

The constellations on Belle’s body don’t match the ones charted on the pages. They are entirely her own. It’s a game that he likes to play with himself on the sunniest, drowsiest afternoons. As Belle frolics in the surf and sunbathes on the low tide’s dense sand, he amuses himself by playing astronomer. It requires a great deal of imagination, but then, doesn’t all stargazing?

Lunaris; the cluster on her inner forearm that bears a striking resemblance to a crescent moon. Then there is Florens Rosa; a speckling that contours the back of her neck, each dot falling into place to create the illusion of a rose in bloom. And his very favorite, Saltatio Delphinus; the abstract likeness of a leaping dolphin on her upper thigh.

Every night, long after she’s returned to her cottage, Rumple peers through the mouth of his little grotto. He scans the stars to see if the Gods have plagiarized from Belle’s canvas. To see if they are brave enough to try to replicate one of her designs.

They never are.

(+++)

As a young boy, no larger than a seal pup, Rumple used to thrill-chase by diving into the seemingly bottomless trenches that cut into the seafloor. The blue of the water would get darker and darker as he plunged down, until he was floating in an empty, inky blackness. It was like being swallowed up by the maw of some ravenous predator. His vision would swim as he sank away from the surface, his small body too fragile to handle the pressures of such deep water. Yet, he would push on.

It was exhilarating. To free fall through the darkness, to do something he wasn’t built for.

Finfolk aren’t meant to dive so deep, but he did. They aren’t meant to liberate and hoard human trinkets. They aren’t meant to steal pretty human lasses.

But is that truly what he’s done? Stolen her? It certainly doesn’t feel like stealing. How can you steal what is so freely and happily given? How can you steal what is served on a silver platter, garnished with shortbread crumbs and cheeky smiles?

She was there throughout the summer, when the sunlight made her auburn hair burn like the bonfires the villagers build on the beach. And she is still here amid winter’s grasp, when the heavy clouds cast her in soft focus and the rain extinguishes the embers in her hair.

Every time he lays eyes on her, it is like diving into those trenches again. The disorientation, the vertigo, the intoxicating thrill. To be thoroughly overwhelmed and still want more.

Belle is an abundance of more, always willing to provide and spoil. Butterscotch and blackberries. Jokes, chats, and out-of-tune songs. Early morning breakfasts and late afternoon lunches. Stories of all sorts, bound in leather and paperboard.

And Rumple always takes without hesitation, for fear that there will come a day when there is nothing left to give.

(+++)

Most days, Rumple awaits her arrival in his grotto, tucked into the shadows, impishly giddy at the thought of taking her by surprise. On quieter days, when there is no traffic on the beach, he instead lounges in the tide pools, his eyes trained on the bluff’s coastal trail.

He has waited long past sunset today, which is a rarity. Belle finally trots into view over the uplands’ crest, her knapsack heaved over one shoulder, its bulging mouth threatening to spit its contents in exasperation. Her silhouette is otherworldly, the green tartan skirt of her frock looking flimsy as the moonlight passes through it.

Rumple doesn’t have to question if she comes bearing treats. She clambers onto the rocky outcrop to reach him. A small rectangle robed in silver foil is pressed into his wet hands.

He adores the foil, marveling at how it reflects the water’s shimmering surface in its ripples and wrinkles. He does not adore what the foil is wrapped around.

Belle claims it’s chocolate, but he has his doubts.

“It’s dark chocolate,” she explains, nibbling on a square. “It has less sugar and no milk, so it’s sharper. There’s a bitter bite to it.”

“It’s re-volt-ing.”

“You eat raw trout.”

She rolls her eyes, muttering disparaging comments about his palate. Despite her grousing, she is more than happy to polish off half of the chocolate bar by herself. It makes sense to him. Belle likes sharp things; teeth, and claws, and wits.

Rumple doesn’t mind sharp, but he prefers soft; round jawlines, and button noses, and fond scolding. What he can’t stomach is bitterness. It agonizes him that the stories in Belle’s mythology book all start so whimsically and end so brutally. And that no matter how sweet their days are together, it doesn’t change the fact that she’ll always leave him at the end.

She allows the hefty book to continue its slumber in the caverns of her bag. It’s too dark for her deficient human eyes to make out the fancy lettering. Besides, she looks far too tired for narration duty. Her cheeks are stained with a lingering flush of exertion, her eyes dim with sleepy contentment.

“Today was the Cèilidh,” she says, by way of explanation.

Despite her sore legs and weary yawns, he rouses her to perform a final dance for an audience of one. She demonstrates a reel, her skirt flaring around her legs as her bare feet kick up golden puffs of sand.

Rumple doesn’t really need to know what it’s supposed to look like to know that she isn’t very good at it. Her footwork is clumsy and she wobbles as she pivots. She’s even off-time to her own humming.

“Not the most graceful sort, are you?”

Belle lurches to a stop mid-turn, her brows knitting together. “Excuse me?”

“You look rid-ic-ulous.”

“It’s a far cry better than you could do.”

He gives an exaggerated sneer of offense. “You think dancing requires legs? How horren-dous-ly ignorant.”

Her mouth perks into an amused smile. “Show me.”

“A proper dance begs a partner, does it not?” he says, beckoning to her with his talons.

Puckish delight eats up the sweet turn of her lips. She used to make such a fuss about swimsuits. Now, she just gathers the hem of her tartan frock in her fists and lifts it up over her head. She discards it in a careless heap on the rocks.

Next came the perplexing underthings, fiddly-looking clasps coming undone with a flick of her fingers. Rumple drinks her in like a marooned man at a pool of freshwater.

It fills him with pride to be the one allowed to stargaze at the lavish expanse of her pale, pretty sky. To behold the constellations that live beneath sweaters and sensible woolen tights.

She wades into the water, her skin pebbling in the brisk night air. He takes her hands in his own and guides her further into the sea, the waves lazily sloshing against his back. When her toes can barely touch the ocean floor, he winds his arms around her waist. He hauls her into an embrace, thinking of how sailors greet their sweethearts the first moment their boots hit dry land.

Then, with a twist of his fin, he sweeps her legs out from under her, tucking his tail beneath her bent knees. Belle’s squeak of surprise gets lost in a breathless giggle.

He supports her gently, their bare chests flush against one another. The lack of resistance in the water allows them to spin effortlessly, twirling in small, quick circles. There are no fancy steps – no steps of any sort – but Belle begins to absently hum that same Cèilidh melody.

“It sounds better on a fiddle,” she murmurs, as though embarrassed by her rendition.

“I sin-cere-ly doubt that,” he whispers back.

As they spin, weightless and languid, Rumple leans his forehead against hers; his customary vow of adoration. But then, Belle does something strange. She tilts her chin up and presses her mouth to his. As she captures his bottom lip between her own, Rumple lets out a choked gasp, like a human swallowing seawater.

And then it’s over. It was so fleeting, he could have whimpered from the loss.

“Mhm…what…what was that?”

“A kiss.”

So he does what he’s always done when Belle gives him something; he immediately asks for more.

One kiss turns into two, which melts into a third, and a subsequent stream of kisses that come so leisurely, there is no telling where they begin and end. And he’s falling again, into the darkness of the sea’s deepest trench. His head is spinning, his lungs are burning, and still his every thought is ‘more, more, more’.

“You’re very greedy,” she chastises, though there is little heat behind her words.

Rumple flashes his serrated teeth, heartened rather than discouraged. “You shouldn’t give so readily, dearie. A beast may become accus-tomed to taking more than you’re willing to part with.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t let you have.”

And he believes her, his generous Belle.

He is struck with a stroke of brilliance. A kiss could be planted just about anywhere, couldn’t it? What if he were to kiss every last constellation in her sky? He could even tell her all of their names as he goes.

He purrs this idea against her lips. Belle throws her head back, moonlight splashing over her porcelain face, and she sends a laugh up to the true stars above. And then her laughter is smothering him as she gives a greedy beast his fill.

Rumple realizes, huffing a small chuckle of his own, that he might like the flavor of dark chocolate after all. So long as he is tasting it on her tongue.

-

[ellen729]

So, I made the mistake of looking at a post on a site with pro-Captain Swan leanings. Someone had asked what was the most toxic couple on Once, and they were all saying “Rumbelle.” I sometimes know better than to stir up a shark feeding frenzy style war and didn’t give my jump into the fight. But, there are still some things that need about how Captain Swan compares to Rumbelle:

Both our couples meet in small communities in the Enchanted Forest that are besieged by monsters. Hook, after gaining entry under false pretenses, has just helped slaughter everyone and is taking a nap under their corpses. Rumple, by contrast, is asked to come help them and does so (for a price).

Hook lies from the moment he first meets Emma and is setting her up to betray her, her mother, and Mulan and Aurora. Rumple, whatever his failings, makes a bargain with Belle and keeps it, saving her friends, family, and people.

Emma makes it clear that she doesn’t trust Hook. Despite that, Hook is furious when she finds a way to safely go their separate ways without killing him. Apparently, he already felt she was his property. Rumple, despite having a deal with Belle that says she can never leave, sets her free.

Hook has tried to murder Emma multiple times. He has tried to murder her friends and family on different occasions and did murder her grandfather. Rumple never tried to kill Belle and saved the lives of her friends and family. He did beat up Maurice but only when he believed Maurice had tortured his daughter and driven her to suicide. 

Hook has never respected Emma’s “No.” He simply stated that Emma was going to be his, regardless of her clearly stated feelings on the subject. When she was devastated because Walsh, who she seriously considered marrying, was killed after it was revealed he had been manipulating her the whole time, Hook was glad about her pain. After all, it proved Emma could fall in love, which (in his mind) meant good things for him.

Except when Belle was trying to send their child to another world (something Rumple has lots of traumatic experience with), Rumple has always let Belle walk away--which she has done multiple times. When Regina stole Belle’s heart, he gave it back with the expectation Belle would have a relationship with Will.  When Belle broke up with him back in the second season, he made sure she had a home and a way to support herself doing something she loved. When she said goodbye to him at the wishing well, he took steps to save her from the undead disaster Hook was unleashing on Storybrooke without telling her what was going to happen to him if they didn’t stop Hook.

In short, I don’t think there’s any point where Rumbelle doesn’t come out ahead compared to Captain Swan. Also, Rumple looks better in a leather coat.

[deliriumsdelight7]

Okay, Anon. I’m posting this on my main, rather than on the @the-chipped-cup-awards page, because this is my personal take on the issue, and not necessarily the opinion of the mod group as a whole.

The purpose of the Chipped Cup Awards (and before that, the Espenson Awards) is to celebrate all aspects of the Rumbelle fandom. All of the categories on this form have been part of this event since long before I joined the fandom. I don’t think it’s any one person’s place - mine OR yours - to decide for the entire fandom whether a category is “acceptable.” If enough people come forward - not on anon, so we can verify that there are multiple people who feel this way - then we’ll take this under consideration. That being said, Rumbelle poly ships still celebrate the dynamic between Belle and Rumpelstiltskin, and many people enjoy putting the Swanfire family into Rumbelle fics, so it’s my personal opinion that both categories should stay (but I invite other Rumbellers to weigh in).

What really concerns me is your incredibly judgmental tone. Gross? Sick? I think you might be in the wrong fandom, Anon. I’ve read smutty fic where Belle is a centaur, or Rumpelstiltskin is a drider. I’ve read age gap fic where Belle is underage and Gold is her boss or her teacher. I myself have a WIP where Belle and Gold are cursed to think they’re father and daughter (and while the smut hasn’t happened yet, believe me when I say it’s coming). This is and always has been a very open-minded fandom, so it disturbs me to see ship-shaming like this.

It’s well-known that the Once Upon a Time family tree is a tumbleweed. Swan Queen is a ship between an older woman and her step-granddaughter. Even Captain Swan - a canon ship! - is between a man and his late stepson’s ex girlfriend/baby momma. Golden Queen and Wicked Gold are both ships between a man and his ex lover’s daughters - both of whom were groomed by said man. If you’re looking for a fandom that’s concerned with moral purity in its ships, you’re very much looking in the wrong place.

I invite you to examine why you feel like it’s your place to cast judgment on members of your fandom when you don’t hold the show’s very writers to the same standards.

[notalwayslate]

There Can Only Ever Be

My Rumbelle Secret Santa gift for eirian-houpe.tumblr.com/

Prompt: There can only ever be

I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Over the years he stays in the shadows watching over her in case she needs him, but he soon realizes he needs her even more.

AO3: There Can Only Ever Be... - notalwayslate - Once Upon a Time (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

There can only ever be…protection.

Rumford Gold slipped into the pawnshop as his ankle throbbed from the harsh February snowfall. He was so tired that he almost missed the envelope that lay near his feet. Crouching down he snatched it from the floor. It was the wrong size to be any official city document, and too light to be a rent payment.

Curiously, he slid a finger under the flap gently tugging it open. He was surprised to pull out a pressed red rose with a small blue ribbon tied to the stem, along with a small handwritten note.

For your kindness

Belle

He stared at the note with a mixture of surprise and awe before making his way to the back of the store. He reached for the unbleached muslin fabric, a luxury he reserved for the shop’s most valuable treasures, placing a yard of it down on his desk. With trembling hands, he gently placed the pressed rose onto the fabric, along with her note.

Kindness was a gentler emotion that had long fallen by the wayside over the years, a casualty in his rise of becoming the town monster…or so he had thought. When he had seen the girl outside his shop a few days prior selling roses on Valentine’s Day in the blistering cold he felt an unwavering connection to her.

He had no doubt her father, Moe French was warmly tucked away at the Rabbit���s Hole, in a drunken haze, as his daughter tried to make ends meet for that month. He knew all too well a life with a father who shirked his responsibilities in preference for a carefree alcohol induced neverland.  It had made him the cold ruthless man he was today.

He did not want the same outcome for her. She was pure hearted, and he wanted to protect the light within her before life snuffed it out.   

With an overcoming surge of protectiveness, he had gone to her, buying the entire stock of flowers for double the asking price, wanting desperately to get her out of the cold.

Having not thought his plan out thoroughly, he refused to take the dozens of roses he had just purchased drawing a quizzical look.

“Give them to any desperate soul you see fit, and go get yourself warm, Ms. French,” he had instructed leaving her without a second glance.

It was not until the next day, when he entered Granny’s for a cup of coffee, did he learn the town was abuzz with chatter over his generous flower donation to Storybrooke hospital. It appeared that Ms. French was not aware that such an act of kindness did not match his monstrous reputation, or perphaps she saw something within him that others did not.

That evening as he climbed the wide grand staircase of his pink Victorian home with a heavy step, he could not help but think of Belle French. At merely twenty years old with her petite frame and twinkling innocent eyes it was hard for his desperate soul not to be drawn to her.

  Her simple words of his kindness sparked a flame that burned away the cobwebs wrapped around his bitter heart. In that moment, he made a deal with himself. He would protect her from the darkness of this world and give her the freedom to escape the mundane life that awaited no matter the cost.  

There can only ever be…distance.

It was not the responsibility nor cost of his decision that scared him, but the careless misjudgments she would face, if anyone ever learned he was helping her. He had to be meticulous, every plan, every action needed to be guarded with strict anonymity.  

He acted quickly, crossing every T and dotting every I to get the historical Storybrooke nonprofit up and running. Months later it was announced during the city council meeting that an anonymous donation had been given for the renovation and reopening of the Storybrooke public library, along with a two-year scholarship for a future librarian.  

He could not contain his sheer joy when a few weeks later his foundation received her application and personal essay for the scholarship. He knew the girl who always had a book in hand could not resist such an opportunity. He had hoped she would apply, but if not, he would have produced a thousand and one different opportunities for her until he found the right one.

A knot formed in his throat as he read the words of the vibrant beauty whose life was darkened by the silent tribulations of her mother’s passing, and her father’s addictions. Her love of books is evident as she speaks of their power and wonderment carrying her through a life of loneliness and heartbreak.

Images of her flicker through his mind, her on a park bench, her at granny’s, every time he pulls up another memory, he realizes she is always alone. He admires her isolation. His own has made him hard as a rock, but hers is more of a closed book, waiting for another to open it.

He wastes no time in selecting her for the scholarship.  Knowing she will need to start classes in the fall, he uses his contacts in the restaurant and hotel industry to keep her father’s flower shop in high demand for the foreseeable future. No longer would she need to stand on the corner selling roses, as there would be an abundance of income for her father to squander away while still maintaining the bills. In two years, the library renovation would be complete, she would graduate, and he would be there to see it all from the shadows.

There can only ever be…crippling desire.

He was a monster. As hard as he tried, he could not quench the pangs of lust and desire that filled his mind and loins as he vigorously sought his own satisfaction alone in his bed. Every time he swore it would be the last, but visions of Belle’s long pale legs, and crystal blue eyes chipped away at his sanity leaving him in a sticky mess.

In hopes of tampering down his degenerative thoughts, he tries desperately to ignore her presence whenever she is near, but he cannot help but notice how her eyes light up, and a rare smile graces her lips when she sees him.  He knows that she purposefully awaits his arrival Saturday mornings at Granny’s, waiting till he sits at the counter for his cup of coffee, to place down her beloved book and update Granny on her schooling so that he may hear it as well.

She is a clever girl, and he knows if anyone could dig through the mountains of paperwork to discover the identity of the anonymous donor, it would be her.

 More than once he caught himself staring at her lips, wondering what her mouth tasted like. Emotionally drained from fighting his primal desires, he had no choice but to close himself off from the temptation of her. He stopped frequenting Granny’s, spending his days and nights in solitude feeling excruciatingly tired and old.

He had gone seven months without a glimpse of her until the night he heard a scuffle coming from the alleyway near the back of the pawnshop. When he went to investigate a blinding fury rushed his veins as he saw Belle struggling to break free of the grasp of Keith Nottingham. The drunken creep was no match for the ferocity of his cane, as he pummeled him blow after blow. He does not stop until he catches her frightened face out of the corner of his eye. His focus turns to her, allowing Keith to scurry away in a bloody heap.

 Without warning she embraces him, and he in return wraps his arms protectively around her shoulders, ensuring her that she is safe now. He moves to pull back so he can see her face, but she squeezes him tighter to her. He can feel each of her fingers pressed tightly into the muscles of his back, as he leans his temple on the top of her head, murmuring comforting words into her hair.  He does not let go until she releases him first. He takes a moment to scan over her for injuries and lets out a relieved sigh when he does not see any.

Blood roars in the hollows of his chest as he listens to her recount how she was on her way to the Rabbit Hole to check on her father, when Keith had approached her in search of a good time.

The muscle in his cheekbone twitches as he dreams of all the ways he is going to make that bastard pay for ever laying a finger on her. So consumed in his thoughts of vengeance, he is startled as her warm hand slips into his own.

“But I’m okay,” she reassures him clearly sensing the frenzied tension radiating from him. “Thanks to you.”

Gazing upon her heavenly face, guilt seeps into his bones. It was his job to protect her, but how could he do so efficiently when he also had to protect her from himself.

“You need not worry about your father. Leroy knows to contact me if Moe gets…” his words tamper on his lips, as her brows furrow together in confusion from the revelation. Tilting his head to the sky, he looks toward the stars, cursing his loose tongue. He never wanted her to know that to ease her burden, he had a set ears and eyes on her father’s indiscretions.  

“Can you call Leroy and see if he is, okay? It is just…,” he watches her chew on her bottom lip struggling to continue. “It’s the 10th anniversary of my mother’s death, and I know how hard it can be for him.”

Closing his eyes he nods silently, relieved that she did not immediately hurl disgust and accusations upon him for his stalker intrusion into her family life. Pulling out his flip phone, he calls Leroy.

“Where is he?” he asks acutely aware of her worried gaze upon him. He can hear the low murmurs of the bar in the background, as Leroy provides an update. Hanging up, he informs her that her father will be home shortly, safe and in one piece.

 He could sense her mind was flickering with so many questions, but she gave not one a voice. Instead, he found himself in her arms of gratitude once more. The hairs on the back of his neck stand upright and his heart races at the feel of her pressed tightly against him. It is he who pulls back from her this time, wrestling for self-control.

 She had just experienced a traumatic event and was merely looking to him for comfort, and here he was trying to tame the growing erection in his pants. He could feel his resolve crumbling, and knew he had to get her home safely before he or his tented crotch revealed his true feelings for her.  

He would have gladly walked behind her giving her a wide enough berth as to not taint her reputation, however she chose to walk along side of him.

His mouth forms a small sheepish smile as he watches their shadows move together in time along the pavement. It had been so long since he heard her voice that his ears soaked up every syllable as she mutters of her upcoming graduation, and the library’s opening.

All too soon they reach her home above the flower shop. With a sigh he runs his hand through his hair forcing a painful smile, knowing that his time with her has come to an end. 

There is a curious note to her voice, a barely hidden hope lingering beneath, when she asks,

“Mr. Gold…would you...” her words are cut off by slurred hooting and laughter in the distance.

Turning his head, he could make out Leroy’s small figure holding up a clearly inebriated Moe French. The sight soothes his worry that she will not venture out again that night in search of her father.   With a curt bow, he bids her farewell, pretending not to see her eyes, searching his own with his fleeting glance.

That night as he lay in his bed, his mind pondered what it was she was going to ask him. He thought of her rosy, red cheeks, and the adoring innocent gleam of something more in her eyes when she had gazed upon him that night. As much as his heart dreaded it, he knew what needed to be done.

There can only ever be…goodbye.

He was there when she graduated. A silent shadow in the stands mixed among a hundred other faces. He watched in awe as she took her first step towards a new life with her diploma in hand. Her father and others gathered around her in congratulations after the ceremony, but he kept his distance.

It was a month later that the tiny town of Storybrooke gathered around Main Street in anticipation of the grand opening of the Storybrooke Library. Mayor Mills was there of course, forever camera ready to cut the ribbon and take credit for the entire project that he had funded. He did not care really, he did not do it for the spotlight, he had done it for Belle.

Peeking through the blinds, he could see her, in a dress of blue standing on the stage with the mayor. Although she was smiling, he could see a gleam of sadness in her eyes, as she scanned the crowd. His breath hitched at the sight, and deep in his heart he knew she was searching for him.

He cast his eyes downward ashamed that he was too much of a coward to attend. Turning, he shuffled to the backroom, where balls of crumpled paper lay littered across the floor. Running a hand down his face, he tried in vain to wipe away his fatigue. He had stayed up much of the previous night, putting pen to paper, searching for the right words to let her go. He had given her his kindness, and protection, and now it was time to give her freedom.  

Sitting back down at his desk, he was lost as the faint scratch of his pen against the paper consumed him for the next hour or so. He growled in frustration, and he waded up his latest feeble attempt, tossing it to the floor, before slamming his head down to rest atop his arms in exhaustion. He hears the bell ring above his shop door, and the click of heels approaching. He snaps his head up, just in time to see Belle pulling back the curtain.

“Mr. Gold?” she calls for him, her voice laced in concern.

He ungracefully flounders in his chair before stumbling up to stand.

Her eyes gaze around the disheveled state of the room, before landing on him.

“I’m sorry,” is all he can think of saying.

“No, I should be the one who’s sorry, I didn’t mean to just burst in here, but it’s just you weren’t at the dedication today, and” she pauses a moment before her doleful eyes bore into his. “You weren’t there.”

His heart yearns to go to her, show her the briefest bit of comfort. It was clear by the look on her face, how hurt she was by his absence. This had gone too far. Despite his best wishes he had distorted her sweet soul into believing he was anything worthy of her time and affection. He had to end this now. He swallowed the bile in his throat, looking down, as he did not have the resolve to face her.

“Oh, was that today,” he waves his hand as though it was inconsequential, “Dearie, I find it wholly inappropriate that you…”

“Mr. Gold?” she gasps, cutting off his cruelty.

He looks up, to see her gaping in astonishment, at the pressed rose and handwritten note, displayed on a pedestal in the corner of the room.

Closing his eyes, he shook his head knowing he was exposed.

“You…,” he can hear her voice crack with emotion but still cannot force himself to look up. “You still have it.”

He shakes his head dumbly. “Yes, and now you must go.”

“Why?” she asks, her voice raw with emotion.

 He turns from her with a thousand excuses to her question at the tip of his tongue, but he settles for the truth.

“Because I am a monster.”

He felt the weight of her hand on his shoulder, coaxing him to face her. With great reluctance he turns as a ripple of warmth courses through him as her lips find his in a soft feathery kiss.

As she pulls back, he feels the tears rolling down his cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything Belle.”

Her long and delicate fingers trace the lines and angles of his face, as her radiant smile captivates him.

“I know.”

It was a foreign feeling to be looked upon with such an adoring gaze. He had fought pulling her into his world for so long, that he never considered she would pull him into hers.

He reaches up cupping the back of her neck with his hand as she willingly moves forward locking her lips to his.

There can only ever be…her.

Clutching the small velvet box he tiptoes across the cabin floor, kneeling at her bedside. He gingerly reaches his knuckles out to caress her cheek. She stirs as the blanket shifts down her naked form. He holds a breath of anticipation as her glistening blue eyes lazily flutter open, as she greets his presence with a warm smile.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he whispers, plucking a kiss from her pink lips.

He still cannot believe any of this is real. Ever since that night at his pawn shop 8 months ago, they have been inseparable. Although her father, along with most of the town, granted them no acceptance, they found a peaceful solace in each other’s arms.

Night after night, with her head nestled beneath his chin, her heartbeat drowned out all the inner turmoil that once plagued his sleep. His thoughts are now consumed only by her, and the future he craves, more than his next breath.

Hands shaking, he places the box on the mattress, as her startled eyes gaze upon it. He has practiced the words for weeks but in the moment, as he gazes into the blue eyes that have become his home, he cannot wait a second more to utter those four words.

“Will you marry me?”

His question was instantly answered as her yes echoed in his ears filling him with the warmth of a thousand suns. He had only a moment to slip the ring on her finger, before she was entangled in his arms. He feels her pulse drumming beneath her skin, her heartbeat against his ribs. His hands rake over her naked body with an eager hungriness.  

Her mouth is on his, as their bodies tumble backwards onto the bed. Entwined and locked together her moans are echoed by his own. Begs of harder and faster fill his ears, a need that he devotedly complies with.

Her fingers entangled in his hair, her new ring digging into the back of his head, the new sensation bringing him closer to the edge. With one last thrust he falls into a sensation of unrivalled euphoria as she reaches her own bliss.

Panting he moves to her side, his arms wrapped protectively around her as she snuggles into his chest. No words are spoken as she raises her hand gazing at the ring. His heart swells with emotion, and he cannot wait for her claim to be on his finger soon.

From this moment on, there can only ever be forever.