#rumbelle ficlets

[darklybound]

What the Fuck? - A Rumbelle Ficlet 

****

This is a Rumbelle fictlet I wrote and decided to post as I'm still working on my longer nsfw fanfic.

It is also the first piece of writing I have posted on my ao3! You can read it there as well.

[ao3 link]

****

What the Fuck?

“What are you doing, dearie?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, staring down at his maid.

That morning, he had expected his recently acquired servant to be cowering in the shadows of his castle or frantically doing the duties he had assigned her to spare herself the Dark One's wrath. A normal reaction to giving oneself over to the most powerful magic user in the realm. This is why when Rumpelstiltskin used his authority over his domain to locate her and found her outside his castle, his stomach dropped.

Of course, she would be a runner. She was a noblewoman entrapped by the monster whom as a child she had been told would eat her if she misbehaved. No doubt she feared as much for her life as she did her maidenhood. He was the Dark One after all. Everyone left the Dark One as everyone had left the spineless spinner.

Rumpelstiltskin had magicked himself in front of where he sensed her life essence, expecting to find a terrified woman sneaking out of his castle. He had not been looking forward to wrangling her back inside nor calming down the wild woman.

Instead, he had found his maid digging in the dirt. The soil was almost camouflaged with how it blended into the brown dye of her trousers and the dark grey tunic she wore, but it stood out against her pale arms, leaving no doubt that she had been tilling the ground.

This is how Rumpelstiltskin found himself hovering over his maid, asking her what she was doing. The noblewoman jumped at his sudden appearance and looked up at her jailer with surprised yet calm eyes that were like pools of liquid sky. Eyes Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t stare at too long, or he feared he may float away to another time to a different-hued set of kind chestnut eyes.

“Why, I’m gardening, of course,” Belle answered before ignoring him to go back to tending the earth as if it was perfectly normal.

“What the fuck?!” Befuddled, Rumpelstiltskin slipped from the mannerisms he employed as the Dark One. His carefully crafted dangerous aura was replaced by his mouth opening and closing like a fish and his hands waving around frantically. For a second, the Dark One acted like a man.

Belle returned her gaze to him. The flash of annoyance at being interrupted twice at her task immediately shifted to an emotion Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t seen anyone look at him with since Bae. Amusement.  “While I was working, I noticed the abandoned garden from a window. That’s when I realized I was the only servant you had to tend to the castle, and you Rumpelstiltskin, have let your beautiful estate wither. So, I decided to do something about it.”

“Y-You…” He couldn’t believe it. He was stammering. Him! The Dark One was stuttering! All because his latest possession was not acting like she should! She was a noble! She should be weeping, wailing, clawing her way out of his hold instead of clawing in the dirt. To try and what? Make the Dark Castle lighter? Like it was an actual residence of life instead of death and rot? Flowers against the Dark Castle’s walls were like flowers upon a tombstone. The beauty distracted the living from what lay beneath. Death.

She wasn’t playing her part. She wasn’t supposed to care about the duties of her new position. She wasn’t supposed to adjust as if her family had just fallen into disgrace, and she was working diligently to save whatever honor and wealth they had left.

Rumpelstiltskin looked upon his maid with wide eyes, and for the first time in a century, he pondered if he was the one who underestimated who he had made a deal with. She gazed back with an unwavering expression that contained poorly hidden judgment on how rundown he had let his castle become and with concern that she had overstepped.

She tried to hide her reprimand, but he could see it in her exasperated huff and the slight uptick of her brow. Her unease was subtle in the way her hands twisted around the scattered blades of grass peeking out from the displaced soil and in how she bit her lip in the manner that he had seen young ladies do when anxious about a man’s reaction.

She was criticizing him instead of begging for forgiveness! Him, the Dark One! She was concerned about his reaction, not petrified at the horrors he may inflict upon her for her transgression. She was treating him as if he was a normal master and not…not a monster. The Dark One fell away completely as the old spinster’s heart started beating once again.

Too astounded to properly reply, Rumpelstiltskin whispered the only panicked thought in his head.

“What the fuck?”

[shadowedoracle]

A Fear of Needles

Happy Fluffapalooza/ Skin Deep Day Everyone!

This is a short little ficlet that came to me at about 6:30AM when I was trying to grab a few hours sleep after getting my CCA ballot done. Since, apparently, when I desperately need sleep I actually wonder about whether/ how much the population of Storybrooke is vaccinated... Then this came to me.

Not sure It's exactly what I was creating as I was falling asleep but it's close enough. I've only done a very basic proofread so if there are any typos/ obvious errors let me know.

***

“I still don’t see why I need to do this.” Rumple muttered to his wife as they sat in the doctor’s waiting room. “I’m the Dark One, I don’t get sick.”

Belle shook her head, wishing she could roll her eyes as perfectly as her husband could as he returned to what he clearly thought was his winning argument.

“We’ve been over this already Rumple. You might not get sick like the rest of us. But we don’t know for sure that you can’t transmit a disease to someone else.”

“I’ve never done so in over two hundred years as the Dark One.” Her husband said huffily.

She looked at him levelly. “And for most of those years you lived alone. So that’s not as strong a point as it sounds on face value -- and you know it.”

“Humph, perhaps. But we lived in a world rife with disease and no prophylactic treatments such as vaccinations. You’d have thought if I was a carrier there’d have been some evidence of it.”

“Perhaps. But the data we have is just insufficient to be sure Rumple. And we need to be sure.” She laid her hand on his leg which was twitching slightly, a sure sign of his nerves. “I know you wouldn’t want to be the source of any harm to Gideon, if you could prevent it. Neither of us do. So by getting vaccinated we’re taking an important step towards ensuring we don’t harm our son, even indirectly.”

Rumple deflated.“I know.” He sighed. “I know.”

She knew he did know. They’d had this conversation before, multiple times now, and despite all of Rumple’s arguments she knew that ultimately she had the winning one: Rumple could never countenance being the source of any harm coming to their son, no matter how small the probability.

“Mr Gold?” Doc’s voice called through the waiting room.

They stood up and followed him into his office. After Doc had checked Rumple’s appointment details and medical record details-- well Mr. Gold’s medical records, so the age was made up since the computer system wouldn’t permit ages above 150, apparently -- he busied himself preparing the syringe.

Rumple looked at the needle with wide eyes, then his eyes darted to the door then to Belle. “Even if I agree this is necessary. Why are we doing this here? Why not go to Portland or Boston or New York? Somewhere with real doctors. Not a bunch of people who got there medical knowledge from a curse.”

“Hey!” Doc said. “We've spent over 28 years practising medicine in this land. We’re hardly new to things like injections.”

“I seriously doubt repeating the same day over and over gave you as much medical knowledge as you claim.” Rumple sneered.

“Enough Rumple,” said Belle. “We’ve discussed this before. It’s safer doing this here where you have magic, just in case either your body or your magic, reacts badly to the vaccinations.”

“Still doesn’t mean, I think allowing an inexperienced, non-formally trained doctor to stab me with a needle is a good idea.”

“I’m right here you know!” cried Doc.

“I’m sorry Doc.” Belle said knowing Rumple wouldn’t apologize for his remarks and wanting to reassure the dwarf. “I know you know what you’re doing. You’ve vaccinated most of the town by now, including Henry and Gideon.”

Rumple quietened at the reminder that both his son and grandson had been vaccinated by Doc. But as Doc swabbed his arm and picked up the syringe, he started fidgeting again.

Belle shook her head mentally. Who would ever believe the Dark One was afraid of needles? Time to break out the big guns. She put her hand on his thigh and leaned in so close that her lips brushed his ear. She made sure her voice was so low that Doc wouldn’t be able hear. “Rumplestiltskin, if you sit still and behave yourself from now on, I promise that tonight, once Gideon’s asleep, I’ll reward you in any way you desire.”

Rumple turned his head and softly brushed his lips against hers then whispered back, “deal Mrs Gold."

[thisbluespirit]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold Additional Tags: Ficlet, Prompt Fill, Flash Fic, Dancing, Missing Scene, Kissing, Episode: s04e01 A Tale of Two Sisters (Once Upon a Time), Temptation Summary:

Rumple/Belle, kiss desperately.

[fluffapalooza]

It's that time of year again, time to -- *am knocked aside by Leroy running down your dash shouting at the top of his lungs*

IT'S COMING, IT'S COMING, FLUFFAPALOOZA IS COMING! LISTEN UP, BROTHERS AND SISTERS, THERE'S A LOT OF EVIL IN THE WORLD RIGHT NOW, AND WHAT'S THE BEST DEFENSE AGAINST EVIL? IT'S LOVE! AND FLUFF! AND ON FEBRUARY 12 WE CELEBRATE THE FOUNDING ANNIVERSARY OF RUMBELLE, THE SHIP THAT FOUND EACH OTHER AND SURVIVED AGAINST ALL ODDS! SO DO THE BRAVE THING! POST FIC AND ART AND POLLS AND POETRY AND FILKS AND WHATEVER ELSE MAKES YOU HAPPY!

*Leroy takes a deep breath* Also, Astrid and I will be selling Miner's Day Rumbelleversary Day candles, the money goes for a good cause, and light is always good in dark times.

Thank you, Leroy, for your enthusiasm! You heard the Dwarf, folks! Put your thinking caps on and decide what you want to do to recapture the magic that we all felt that first time we watched Skin Deep. If you're not the creative sort, look back in your archives and reblog all those old Rumbelle posts that we enjoyed so much the first time around!

I'll be posting suggestions of things you can do most days leading up to the event to get you started, and your first prompt is:

Belle didn't live out the first Curse in the hospital asylum, she was turned into a miniature French poodle.

Write a ficlet, draw it, photoshop it, just discuss the idea in a post, do whatever you like with it. Post it on February 12. The more fills the better! All new posts tagged #fluffapalooza will be reblogged here.

[beeeinyourbonnet]

Fic Masterlist

I needed a new pinned post so here is my new masterlist of fics that I have either finished or am actively working on, which I will update as I post new things. Sorry for the unhinged tags, they are there for me and will almost certainly grow longer and more unhinged yolo. Also I accept prompts for any ficlets or character questions in anything from this list (possibly also other stuff on my AO3 if I'm feeling it)!

Rumbelle

By Hook or by Crook - E - complete, 28/28 chapters 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. Winner of best rumbelle fic and best comedy smut CCAs 2025

By the Book (By Hook or by Crook) - T - complete, 1/1 chapter After Gold brings a partially-conscious Belle to the Nolans', he and David have to find out what happened (set between chapters 20 and 21 of By Hook or by Crook).

Gilded - E - complete, 1/1 chapter Mr. Gold runs a speakeasy during Prohibition and hires a new waitress. RSS 2024 fic. Winner of best RSS fic and best one-shot CCAs 2025.

The First Thanksgiving - T - complete, 1/1 chapter (begging for suggestions for a new title) Newly married Emma and Neal invite Belle to the first Thanksgiving they're hosting in an attempt to set her up on a blind date, not knowing that she has been keeping a secret from them since the wedding. Fluffapalooza 2025

The Twenty-Eighth Date (The First Thanksgiving) - G - complete, 1/1 chapter A prequel to The First Thanksgiving, Belle and Gold meet at Neal's wedding while both are trying to hide from someone else. The Siren - T - complete, 1/1 chapter The town librarian is behaving strangely, and Mr. Gold definitely does not care (third round entry from the rumbelle showdown 2024).

In the Glow of Moonlight - E - 1/3 chapters Rumpelstiltskin gets cursed and, when the cure is to experience happiness, he assumes he'll be cursed forever.

Anyelle

Nostelle (Nosty from Safe x Belle) Covetous - E - complete, 25/25 chapters Father Joseph MacAvoy wakes up in a library across town with no idea of how he got there, and when the kind librarian doesn’t kick him out immediately, he considers that maybe there’s more to life than alcohol. Unfortunately for the Father, the kind librarian has a habit of taking in dangerous men, and MacAvoy feels wholly unequipped to protect her heart from them--and his own. Winner of best bobby squared CCA 2025

First Kiss (Covetous)- T - complete, 1/1 chapter Belle and Nosty kiss for the first time.

Bellish (Hamish Macbeth x Belle) The Beginning of a New Book - E - complete, 27/27 chapters When Belle discovers that her fiance is not the man she thought he was, she finds herself in witness protection in a little Scottish town called Lochdubh.

Almost a Widower (The Beginning of a New Book) - complete, 1/1 chapter Sergei learns that Belle has disappeared.

Develle (Danny Devine from Dead Fish x Belle) Unbowed - E - incomplete, 40+ chapters Belle works nights at the Parrot Club as an assistant to pay off her estranged husband’s debts to Danny Devine, and days at a bookstore where she has struck up a friendship with a gentleman named Ives. Belle is just supposed to do Danny's books and keep the office organized, but when Something Happens, she gets drawn into a world she never expected. Also includes ivelle (belle x ives from Ravenous). Updates Fridays.

Devine Intervention - M - incomplete, series of one-shot ficlets This are all my old develle ficlets that I post as I edit them, where she is his assistant to work off her dad's debt.

Plunkelle (Will Plunkett from Plunkett & Macleane x Belle) An Ever-Fixed Mark - E - incomplete, under 10 chapters presently The widowed Lady Belle desires nothing more than freedom. When her father brings her to London in an attempt to find her a new husband, she instead meets a highwayman who could use a woman on the inside. Updates Mondays and Thursdays.

Lachelle (Lachlan Macaldonich from California Solo x Belle) On the Rocks - M - incomplete, under 5 chapters presently Desperate to stay in America, Lachlan vows to quit drinking, but it's hard when he lives alone and there's nothing else to do in the farmlands of California. Luckily for him, he meets a woman outside the AA meeting. Updates Wednesdays.

[ace-cf-cups]

For Your Consideration 2024 (@the-chipped-cup-awards)

As with 2023, I started 2024 off with great ambitions regarding writing and gifing and editing:

I ended up posting [in 2023] only a handful of gifsets, three ficlets, two of which I wrote for Rumbelle Showdown (shoutout to @jackabelle73 for hosting this wonderful event last year, by the way), and 0 fanvids/edits. I'm not particularly proud of it, and I really, really wanna make much more content this year.

(c) my FYC post from last year

And, as with 2023, I ended up posting only a handful of little things, a couple of moodboards and gifsets and a couple of tiny ficlets. Honestly? I'm a little baffled as to how it happened (it feels like only yesterday I was writing that post and looked forward to creating much more Rumbelle and Anyelle content in 2024... where did the time go? 😅) and more than a little ashamed, especially considering 2024 was the year I really got into Anyelle.

We've already seen how this promises go, but I really really really do hope I'll have enough time and spoons and inspiration to write and edit and gif and put together much much more things on this blog and in this fandom. Guess we'll see next year how well it went?)

As for now, I offer to your consideration what little I wrote and made in the years 2023 and 2024.

Fanfics

Premonition - a ficlet written for the 1st Round of Rumbelle Showdown 2023, for the prompts ""; EF!Rumbelle hurt/comfort

Belle and Rumple are slowly growing closer as they spend evenings in each other's company in the Dark Castle.

Then, when one day Rumplestiltskin is called away for a deal in the middle of their conversation and doesn't return for an hour, Belle begins to worry.

Possible nominations: Best Comfort, Best One-Shot, Best Short Fic, Best Dark Castle, Best Drama, Best Trope (sickfic), Best English Language, Best Belle, Best Dark One Rumple

His ray of light - a ficlet written for the 2nd Round of Rumbelle Showdown 2023, for the prompts ""; human AU, major character injury, possible MCD

Alan Gold is in a happy, healthy relationship for the first time in what might be his whole life.

But when one day a figure from his past unexpectedly shows up at his beloved's doorstep, it might mean the end not only of his happiness, but life itself.

Possible nominations: Best Death, Best Hurts So Good, Best One Shot, Best Short Fic, Best Storybrooke, Best Drama, Best AU - Original, Best English Language, Best Mr Gold

Sacred promise - originally written as a starter for my rp partner, I also decided to post it as a ficlet; season 6 fix-it without all the breakup bullsh*t

Belle's and Rumple's baby boy has kicked for the first time.

Rumple has major feelings about it.

Possible nominations: Best Family, Best Fix-it, Best One Shot, Best Short Fic, Best Storybrooke, Best AU – Based on Once Upon A Time, Best Trope (kiss to the baby bump), Best English Language, Best Mr Gold

Say the word - a David Russell/Lacey French ficlet

David confronts Lacey about the prick that's been pestering her.

Possible nominations: Best Romance, Best One-Shot, Best Crossover Fic, Best English as Second Language Fic, Best Trope (I will kill for you), Best Lacey, BEST ANYEM FIC

A lie (might be better than the real thing) - a David Russell/Hiero ficlet I wrote while trying out this fun writing site

David ponders his developing relationship with Hiero, its dangers and attraction.

Possible nominations: Best One-Shot, Best Crossover Fic, Best English ad Second Language Fic, BEST ANYEM FIC

Welcome home - a Renard/Belle French tiny ficlet

Belle welcomes Victor home.

Possible nominations: Best Romance, Best One-Shot, Best Crossover Fic, Best English as Second Language Fic, BEST ANYELLE FIC

Gifsets

this "happy ending at the end of realms" set

Possible nominations: Best Fan Art, Best Graphic Art, Best Fluff Art, Best Use of Color

this silly little Woven Beauty set

Possible nominations: Best Fan Art, Best Graphic Set, Best AU in Art

this David Russell/Belle French gif set

Possible Nominations: Best Fan Art, Best Graphic Art, Best AU in Art

this Golden Lace (in)correct quote

Possible Nominations: Best Fan Art, Best Graphic Art, Best AU in Art, Best Smutty Art

this "Belle tells Rumple she is pregnant" set (what do you mean it's not how it went?)

Possible Nominations: Best Fan Art, Best Graphic Art, Best AU in Art, Best Fluff Art

Moodboards

this hiero moodboard

Possible Nominations: Best Fan Art, Best Graphic Art, Best Use Of Color

this hiero x weaver moodboard

Possible Nominations: Best Fan Art, Best Graphic Art, Best AU in Art

this bellish AU moodboard

Possible Nominations: Best Fan Art, Best Graphic Art, Best AU in Art, Best Angsty Art

[abovethemists]

What’s a fic trope, plot bunny, or character variation that you want someone to write for Rumbelle, but no one ever has?

I am a simple woman with simple needs. Enemies to lovers, marriage of convenience, mutual pining, these are my bread and butter and there is thankfully plenty to go around in the Rumbelle fandom. Rumbelle has also tackled pretty much everything so anything I say probably has been done, I just haven't had a chance to read it yet.

I do wish someone would finish my Lady Belle hires Spinner Rumple to impregnate her after her husband unexpectedly dies and she's left in a precarious position with no heir fic because I'd rather read it than write it. So, if anyone wants to take a stab at that one! I also don't think there were a lot of Belle is pregnant and has a baby in the missing year fics. (I remember some ficlets but not a long fic). And there was a sad lack of season 5 woobie Rumple with no powers smut. Okay, I could probably think of a lot more if I had the time...

[a-rose-for-gold]

I expanded my ficlet for the 2023 Rumbelle Showdown!

[alphashley14]

Oh what a damn fool I am.

I started another WIP.

I’m definitely going to prioritize ‘One of Us’ (it’s only fair and I’ve come this far dammit!) But I’m definitely excited to see where this other story goes.

Also terrified.

Because I have a horrible track record of having more than one ongoing WIP at once. But still.

This is “Rags to Riches,” expanded from the ficlet of the same name that I wrote for the 2023 Rumbelle Showdown under the pseudonym Sonnenblume.

[peacehopeandrats]

Final day of fic questions challenge!

Day 30: Do you have a favorite fic you've written? What makes it your favorite? And don't forget to give us a link!

One of my favorites is called Marble (https://archiveofourown.org/works/35438176). It was part of the Monthly Rumbelling challenge that I participated in for a full year to create little ficlets, which I then turned into a giant choose your own adventure series. Or... I'm in the process of turning into that... I still have a LONG way to go. I loved that series and that idea, but I think Marble was my favorite because of the prompt and how I came up with the magical stuff around the prompt. I liked Mountains, Streams, and Magical Things for the same reason. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/25508239/chapters/61884613) And because of the way I got one of my favorite "Rumbelle songs" and Jefferson all heavily in one fic. :)

[alphashley14]

I was delighted to participate in this year’s Rumbelle Showdown under the pseudonym Sonnenblume.

I was eliminated in the first round, but I’m still very proud of my ficlet, ‘Rags to Riches’. And I’m so delighted to post it to my ao3 and share it on my blog!

I cannot wait to have another crack at this competition next year! 💪✍️

Author: Sonnenblume

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

Group: B

-

Rags to Riches

All of the rags-to-riches stories Rumpelstiltskin had ever heard had happy endings, their heroes and heroines envied for the riches and prestige they acquired. 

Rumplestiltskin’s own rags-to-riches story thus far hadn’t gone that way at all.  

The rags part of his tale was about as rags as rags could get. A lame spinner, raising his son alone after his wife left him for a pirate. Whose boy- his world, was soon to be drafted into the same war that crippled his father. Until-

A miracle. 

Rumpelstiltskin had been spinning, pouring his every emotion into his work when lo and behold- 

The wool between his fingers turned to gold. 

In most stories this would be the part where everything turns around for the better. 

But that sort of thing never happened to Rumpelstiltskin. 

Within a day of bribing the soldiers to allow their escape, those very same soldiers returned to snatch him off of the road. They threw Baelfire to the ground, tossed Rumple across a horse, and rode off. Leaving his son behind.

Now Rumple was an oddity - the Duke’s thing that filled his treasury with more gold than he could ever spend. Every day like a prized canary, he was placed in an ornate cage to be ogled by the lords and ladies who came from far and wide to watch him spin. 

“Why, he could spin for kings someday!” His aunties had been so proud when he’d shown talent at the wheel as a boy. If they could see him now, he doubted they’d think the life of a celebrity to be so flattering. 

Days dragged on into weeks, every day filled with spinning, taunting, and wolfing down whatever meager “reward” the Duke determined he’d earned. 

Until one day, Rumpelstiltskin got sick.

His head began to throb. 

Mucus filled his chest and airways. 

He began to sweat and shiver. 

Then his cage began to close in on him and the world came out of focus. His audience became a pack of wheezing asses and the Duke transformed into a nightmarish hog-like monster! 

Rumplestiltskin awoke in a cold sweat, in a part of the castle he’d never seen before. His body was sore, but the bed was comfortable and he was cold- so cold. 

He rose to move nearer to the fire, but gentle hands guided him back down. “You must be still, Rumpelstiltskin,” said a voice. “Your body and heart have grown weary as to allow a great sickness to overtake you.” 

And a vision entered his sight - a blue eyed beauty that would surely put even the goddess Aphrodite to shame. 

“A craftsman and a flatterer, Rumpelstiltskin. Do your talents know no bounds?” 

She giggled, her voice rolling off her tongue in the accent of a foreigner. 

He then realized that in his feverish state, he must have mumbled at least some of that out loud. 

A cool cloth was pressed to his forehead. “Your fever is high. You are an endurer. You must’ve been sick for days before you passed out in the middle of the Duke’s court.” She procured a bowl of warm broth and returned to his side, feeding him a spoonful at a time. “You worked yourself nearly to death. Why for a man who cages you and steals the spoils of your gift as his own?” 

Quietly, Rumplestiltskin gasped out, “Bae…” 

His son. His beautiful, brave Baelfire. Out there all alone. If anything happened to his boy, he would truly become dust. He had to find him! 

“I see,” she said, dipping the spoon in the broth once more, “A father seeks to return to his son. There’s more to your story than being able to spin straw into gold, Rumplestiltskin. And you know, I have always been fond of a good story…” 

She said it so thoughtfully. But… When had he said Bae was his son?

She shivered and tightened her shawl around herself. “The Duke’s castle is much too cold. It’s a surprise that his entire court isn’t as chilled to the bone as you.”

Wordlessly, Rumpelstiltskin tugged a blanket off of himself and held it out to her with a trembling fist. 

Foreigners didn’t take well to the harsh Frontland winter. It wouldn’t do for one as kind and beautiful as her to freeze. Better him to suffer winter’s bite than she. 

What a pathetic sight I must be, he thought. Quivering and wheezing yet still offering what little he had to give. 

But she smiled as she took the blanket, then took his hand in hers. 

“You’re so kind,” she said reverently, “even when you’re suffering, and the world has been so cruel to you.” She planted a kiss upon his knuckles, as a knight may a maiden, then looked up at him with a coy smirk. “You know I had come here tonight to test you,” she whispered, leaning in. “But you’re making it very hard.”

… Maybe the fever was addling his brains, but Rumplestiltskin was confused.

She placed his arm back on his chest and tucked the blanket back around him. Then she reached into her pocket and procured a small bottle. 

“Take this,” she said as she uncorked it. “You’ll sleep deeply this night. And come morning, you shall be well.” 

Whatever it was, the taste of it was terrible. But he was too weak and weary to complain.

“Rest well Rumpelstiltskin,” said the beauty as the welcome haze of sleep overtook him. “And tomorrow… you will be free.”

When Rumpelstiltskin awoke come morning, he had to wonder if she had been some feverish fantasy. A different physician was at his bedside and according to the servants, none other had seen to him. 

Not that he had much time to ask around. The moment the Duke learned of his returned health, Rumpelstiltskin was seized by his men and returned to the wheel within the cage. 

“I don’t give a damn what a miracle it is,” Sir Hordor scoffed as Rumpelstiltskin scrambled to get started. “It’s women’s work. Makes you wonder doesn’t it, men?” He licked his lips. “What else old Spindleshanks can do as well as a woman?” 

A shiver ran through him as the soldiers laughed. 

But suddenly the laughter disappeared. And a stunned silence fell over the court.

For the soldiers had been engulfed in indigo smoke. And when it cleared the men were gone, and in each of their places was a single rose. 

Footsteps echoed across the chamber. Delicate clawed fingers plucked what had been Hordor from the floor. Rumple’s eyes followed the rose as the lady lifted it and- 

It was her. Dressed in leather and silk. Skin shining gold. Rumpelstiltskin knew her at once, for who she truly was. 

The Dark One. 

She smiled at him, just as she had before, and held the rose through the bars. “There,” she said, “not so frightening in the end, now is he?” 

Not daring to be rude, Rumple was trembling as he bowed his head and took the token. “My Lady,” he thanked her quietly. 

“Dark One!” The Duke bellowed. “You have no place nor business here! Begone, she-witch!” 

“My business is not with the likes of you,” she scoffed, dress sweeping across the floor as she turned. “I found quite the desperate soul upon the road - a boy. As courageous as he was poor. I made a deal with him: that once reunited, he and his Papa may serve me. If only I am a good mistress and return his stolen father to him from the cruel Duke of the Frontlands!”

“Get out. Leave!” The Duke shouted. 

“-And so!” 

With a flourish she turned, and the cage burst into hundreds of golden butterflies.

With a bow, the Dark One offered him her hand. “- I have come to keep my word. If you will have me, Rumplestiltskin.” 

“SPINNER! YOU CANNOT GO WITH THIS… BEAST!” The Duke bellowed.

The spinner mustered his courage and stood from the stool, his weight upon his good leg. “You are the only monster here,” Rumplestiltskin replied.

He tried to go to her, but his ankle gave way and he tumbled into her arms. 

“F-forgive me, My Lady,” he stuttered, blood rushing to his face. “My ankle- without my walking stick I-” 

But she merely giggled, picked him up under his thighs, and hoisted him over her shoulder as a knight may a maiden. 

“M-My Lady!” He stammered. 

“Fret not Rumpelstiltskin, your boy shall soon return your stick. And until then I am plenty strong to carry you!” 

Strangely, though he couldn’t help but be aware of the way their bodies were touching, Rumplestiltskin wasn’t opposed to his current position. He wasn’t afraid nor embarrassed. He felt… safe. 

“And the rest of you!” She declared, “When the stories spread - and I’m sure they shall, let them be of the love between a son and his father!” 

And she whisked him away, into the tearful embrace of his son, to their happily ever after. 

-

[emospritelet]

TGL: 49, “Can I smell cinnamon?”

Okay, so writing the first ficlet made both me and a bunch of you guys sad, and it’s Christmas, so I decided to fix it.  The first part definitely happened in a TLG past life, so consider this an AU that would have happened had the universe been kinder.

[Part 1]

December 22nd, 1905

The next day dawned with a low fog hanging over the city, the air cold enough to bite at the back of the throat and make one’s breath catch.  Ogilvy had risen early and taken his usual walk around the park, lost in his own thoughts.  A trip to Canada was a good notion.  They had not been there for some years, and it was entirely possible that she was there.  She had to be somewhere, after all. Perhaps Alice could journey with them; the trip would be good for her, and her natural energy and enthusiasm would stop him falling into the deepest depths of despair.  Ava and Nicholas would have to stay behind, of course, but it would be good for them too.  They needed to start their schooling, and now was as good a time as ever.

He did two circuits of the park instead of his usual one, and by the time he returned to the house his feet were numb with cold.  There was an air of excitement in the breakfast room that made him smile.  Alice and the others had eaten, and she was chatting about the fair that was in town, and her plans to take the two youngsters with her.

“Why don’t we all go?” suggested Doc brightly.  “I for one could use the exercise.”

“Can the servants come too?” asked Alice eagerly.  “Ivy was telling me how she’d so like to go, and they all work so hard!”

“If Mrs Wolfe has no objection, then nor do I,” said Ogilvy.  “I believe I’ll stay here, though.  I have a few matters of business to attend to.  Make sure you wrap up warmly, the weather’s taken a bitter turn.”

She squeaked in excitement and ran over, pressing a kiss to his cheek and making him smile.

“Don’t spend all your money on sweets, mind,” he said, and she grinned.

“We won’t!”

He watched them hurry out, Alice holding the hands of the younger children and chattering about the importance of gloves.  The house seemed eerily quiet when they had gone, and he poured himself a cup of coffee and made his way to the library.  The fire was burning, the room pleasantly warm, and the feeling was starting to come back into his feet as he set down his cup.  He had no appetite for breakfast, but the coffee would be welcome while he went through his letters.

x

It was some time later that he heard the doorbell, but it barely registered.  He was reading through a letter from one of his contacts in Boston, and the report made him slump in his chair a little.  A young woman matching Belle’s description had been seen at a dinner held by one of Boston’s premier families.  He had allowed himself to feel the faintest hope, but his contact had now conversed with the woman, and reported that she had brown eyes, not blue.  It was not her.  He tossed the letter aside, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh, and Mrs Wolfe herself entered the library, stout and stern-looking in her black dress, iron-grey hair neatly pinned up on her head.

“There’s a Miss Marchland here to see you, sir,” she said, eyes bright behind her pince-nez glasses.  “Says she has a letter of introduction from Lady Ella Deville.”

“Oh?” he said, puzzled.  “Well, please send her in.”

Mrs Wolfe bowed her head and left the room, and he turned to a brief instruction he was writing to his lawyer, signing it with a flourish and setting it aside.  He had seen Lady Ella two weeks ago, at a tedious dinner party where both of them had had a little too much brandy, but he couldn’t recall her saying anything about sending him a servant.  They had talked about her daughter going off to Vienna for a year, and his own plans for Ava and Nicholas. Still, he supposed Mrs Wolfe could always use more help.

“Miss Marchland,” announced Mrs Wolfe, and Ogilvy put down his pen and pushed his glasses up on his nose.

“Miss Marchland,” he said, pushing back his chair and standing up as he heard footsteps enter the room.  “I understand you come with—”

He cut off, mouth falling open as he came face to face with a ghost.  She was gazing back at him calmly, dressed in a demure grey coat and skirt, the toes of black buttoned boots peeking out beneath the hem.  Gloved hands were clasped around the handle of a leather satchel, and her hair was pinned up beneath a neat black hat, its shining chestnut only just visible.  Her cheeks were pink with the cold, her eyes as blue as the winter sky, and it felt as though he had been punched in the chest, his heart shattered into a thousand pieces and clumsily remade with desperate hands.  It was pounding in his chest, in his throat, his lips tingling with the force of it, and he felt the room close in around him, as though he might faint. 

He was aware that he was holding his breath, and snapped his mouth shut.  Perhaps it was a dream.  He had had too many of those to count, and he bit the inside of his cheeks hard.  Not a dream.  She was here.  After centuries of searching, waiting, despairing, the fickle gods had finally listened, and had sent her home to him.  There was a tiny line of confusion between her brows, and he realised that he hadn’t finished his sentence and was staring at her like a damn fool.

“I - ah - I understand you come with a letter of introduction,” he said, amazed that his voice was so steady.  “From Lady Ella Deville.”

“Yes, sir, I have it here.”

Her voice was low and melodious, and he felt tears welling up inside him, a lake of them, an ocean.  How long since he had heard her speak?  She was handing him something, a neatly-folded letter in a thick cream envelope.  Taking it from her and opening it gave him something to do other than think about how much he wanted to break down and weep.  He couldn’t concentrate on the words, his vision swimming and blurring, but from the little he managed to read he deduced the purpose of her visit.

“You’re a governess?” he said, raising his eyes to hers.

It almost hurt to look at her directly, and he had to drop his gaze again, focusing on his hands clutching the letter.  There was a tiny smudge of ink on the tip of his forefinger, showing up the loops and whorls in his skin.

“Her Ladyship informed me that you have two children,” she said, making him look up again.

Her voice lacked the warmth he was used to, her tone cool and efficient, with the proper deference that would be required of someone in her station.  She was entirely indifferent to his presence, and he reminded himself that she had no memory of him.  It hurt: a sharp stabbing in his chest, but she was real, and she was alive, and he wanted to take her in his arms and cry.

“I - yes.”  He gave up on the letter, tossing it onto his desk, and gestured to the chairs near the fire.  “Well, they’re not mine, really.  Alice keeps bringing strays home from the back streets and I take them in and wash the lice out of their hair.  She’s little more than a child herself, so perhaps I have three.  Please, take a seat.  Would you like some tea?  Or perhaps some coffee?  Something else?  The cook makes excellent hot chocolate and the weather’s cold enough to warrant some…”

She blinked, briefly hiding her eyes and her obvious puzzlement both at his babbling and his lack of propriety.  She would soon learn that his household was as unorthodox as Lady Ella’s.  He rang the bell, and gestured to the chairs again.  She eyed him curiously, but crossed to the chairs and sat perched on the edge of one of them, hands resting demurely on her lap as he paced up and down, a mixture of nerves and pure, intense joy making him restless.  He was aware that he was toying with the ring on his right hand, a thick gold band set with a moonstone.  Miss Marchland was looking around the library with interest.

“I’m sure you enjoy reading,” he said.  “You would be welcome to spend as much time in the library as you please.”

She smiled at him then, her face lighting up, and he had to turn away.  The tears were welling in his eyes, and he dashed them away with shaking fingers, his back to her.  The arrival of Mrs Wolfe was a welcome distraction, and he clapped his hands together, making her eyes narrow a little behind her glasses.

“Ah!” he said.  “Hot chocolate, if you please, Mrs Wolfe.  And perhaps something sweet to go with it?  I didn’t eat breakfast.  Careless of me.”

“Of course, sir,” she said, eyeing him curiously.  “I thought you might be hungry.  I’ll bring it myself; the maids have all gone to the fair.”

“Yes, of course, of course.”

Her gaze flicked briefly to Miss Marchland before she left, and Ogilvy returned to his desk, snatching up the letter from Lady Ella.  This time he managed to read it through, and raised his eyes.

“You are competent at Latin and Greek?” he asked, and she smiled.

“Yes, sir.  I studied at Girton College.”

“You studied at university,” he whispered, his cheeks aching from holding in a smile.  “Of course you did.  Of course.”

She put her head to the side, as though he were a curiosity she didn’t quite understand.

“I - have my diploma,” she said, reaching into the small leather satchel she carried.  “And references from Professors Magus and Drake.  I should be delighted to make use of my studies.  Previous employers appeared not to value them quite so highly.”

He took the papers she handed him, two envelopes which he set aside, and the diploma.  Annabelle Colette Marchland.  Dear gods, thank you.  Thank you.

“Belle,” he whispered, and she raised a slim, dark brow.

“That’s what my mother used to call me,” she said.  “I was always Miss Marchland to Lady Ella, however.”

He looked up.  That crease was back between her eyes, and he realised that he must seem very strange to her.  Strange and over-familiar.

“Forgive me,” he said, handing back the diploma.  “I - you remind me of someone, that’s all.  Forgive me.”

She tucked the diploma back into her satchel, and he began to pace again, striding up and down before the shelves of books that contained works on history and politics.

“How old are your children, Mr Ogilvy?” she asked, and he started, spinning on his toes to face her again, still turning the moonstone ring on his finger.

“Ava and Nicholas are eight,” he said.  “Alice is sixteen.  I daresay she could use some further instruction - I taught her to read, and some mathematics and principles of management, but she never took to any of the governesses I employed.  Too much focus on needlework and nothing useful, she said.”

Belle bit her lip, as though she was trying to hold in a smile.

“I - I suppose you would want the girls to follow a different curriculum to Nicholas?” she said, and looked surprised when he shook his head.

“Not at all,” he said.  “I’d like you to teach them all you know.  Classics, languages, mathematics.  I don’t want the girls to miss out on anything because society believes embroidery more appropriate for them than science.”

Belle’s eyes sparkled, a tiny smile lifting the corners of her mouth.  She was so beautiful he wanted to cry.

“I have an interest in the sciences, too,” she said.  “Although I must confess it’s fairly amateur and needs developing.  Astronomy is fascinating.”

He looked up at that.

“I - ah - have a telescope in one of the attic rooms,” he said.  “You’re more than welcome to use it.”

Her smile widened in delight, and he had to look away again, blinking rapidly.  Thankfully the door opened, and Mrs Wolfe entered with a tray containing a tall, thin pot of steaming chocolate and two small cups, alongside a plate containing some small cakes.  She set it down, walking sedately from the room, and he poured two cups, ribbons of fragrant steam rising up from the rich brown liquid, the scent of melted chocolate and spices drifting into his nose.  Belle took a cup from him with a nod of thanks.

“Can I smell cinnamon?” she asked, and he smiled.

“It’s a quirk of this household,” he said.  “A spiced syrup made by our cook.  Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”  She looked up at him through her thick lashes as she took a sip.  “It’s delicious.”

He picked up his own cup, and sat in the chair opposite her, taking a sip of the sweet chocolate before glancing at her over the top of his glasses.

“I should be delighted to offer you a position in this house, Miss Marchland,” he said gently.  “Are you able to start immediately?”

She looked surprised at that, but only momentarily.

“I am,” she said.

“Excellent,” he said.  “Excellent.”

[ace-of-spaders]

They sleep out on the observation deck, huddled in the corner where they can watch the magnificent colors of FTL Destiny is rushing through but can't be seen - at least, right away - if someone walks in, perhaps, having come to the same conclusion they did, that the deck is the most suitable place for spending one's night.

They sleep sitting up, leaning against each other - both seeking and providing support at the same time - arms linked, wrapped in the blanket Chloe had the foresight to bring with her.

Chloe's head is pillowed on Rush's shoulder, her free hand holding onto his forearm as if he's the only thing that keeps her from drifting away - she nodded off first and the same nightmares that have been plaguing them both since their... stay at the blue aliens' ship must have tried to surface again because before long her breathing sped up and she clutched onto his arm with strength that might have actually left bruises, effectively drawing Nick's attention away from the calculations he'd been trying to work on. He watched her face contort with a grimace that was part confusion, part fear and - last but not least - pain and, though the very thought of those aliens terrified him out of his mind under any other circumstances, this time he just squeezed her hand lightly to let her know she was not alone and murmured into her hair, his voice tranquil on the surface but fierce with determination within: "It's alright. They're not gonna hurt you. I won't let them." Her features smoothed out then, no longer afraid, and with a sigh and a slight shift - an attempt to snuggle into his side even more than she already was - she finally fell into a deep and blissfully dreamless sleep.

Rush's temple is resting against the top of Chloe's head, his free hand still holding onto his notebook as he fell asleep, for the first time in forever ( if you count out the times he simply passed out because he'd been running on too little hours of sleep and too much stress - those could not be considered as healthy sleep he was in desperate need of by any stretch of imagination, no matter how stubborn the lead scientist was ), without noticing it - Chloe's warmth and weight against his side providing just enough comfort to soothe his overthinking mind and quench the nearly constant terror of falling again into the aliens' clutches so that he can rest.

They sleep, huddled under one blanket, leaning against supporting each other, their arms linked and hands intertwined, and for the first time in days, weeks, months - what feels like eternity, really - both Chloe and Rush sleep through the whole night, with no nightmares to terrorize them.

[deliriumsdelight7]

Spotify wrapped 19 for Rumbelle?

I swear to god this song fits, like, ALL my ships.

"Rumpel, have you seen my blue dress? The one with the lace inlay?" Belle asked from the walk-in closet, her voice muffled from the combined racks of his suits and her dresses.

"Not lately," Rumpelstiltskin replied truthfully yet evasively. He knew exactly where the dress in question was, but that wasn't what Belle had asked.

Belle continued to search, growing more frustrated by the minute. Hating seeing his wife like this, Rumpel approached quietly from behind. Dressed in only a lacy bra and panties, her expanse of creamy white skin was a delectable temptation - one he didn't have time to indulge. Reaching over her shoulder, he pulled out a sheath dress. "What about this one? You look fetching in burgundy."

"I guess. But I really wanted to wear the blue one today," she said with a pout. Still, she took the proffered dress and quickly slipped it on, turning her back to Rumpel and holding her hair to one side so he could do the zip. "I wonder where it went."

"I'm sure it'll turn up eventually," he offered placatingly.

Turning to face him, she offered him a brilliant smile that made his heart skip a beat, just as it always did. "You're right. I'm sure it will," she agreed, rising up on tiptoe to offer him a kiss.

Once she'd gone for the day, skipping her merry way to the Storybrooke Free Public Library, Rumpelstiltskin stood pensively in their shared bedroom. With a wave of one hand, he summoned a pair of suitcases in a cloud of crimson smoke. Both were stuffed to bursting with clothes: one with several of his suits, the other with her dresses, skirts, and blouses.

Belle didn't know about these suitcases. And she wouldn't - not until she came to him and told him that she was ready to leave this horrible town. His beautiful, brave, and most of all kind wife was determined to be the hero this town needed, to use any resources at her disposal to improve the lives of Storybrooke's citizens.

She was a hero, his wife. It was one of the things he'd always admired about her. She saw past the ugly exterior to the goodness just waiting to come out.

But for Rumpelstiltskin, there was no such goodness in this town. This was the place where she'd been taken from him, time and again. Where he'd had to murder his own father, taking his own life in the process. Where his son had died, and he'd been enslaved by a madwoman for a year. This town held nothing but bitterness for him, and he couldn't wait to leave.

But Belle insisted that they stay. And after making so many mistakes, he couldn't bear the thought of saying no to her. So he kept these two suitcases ready, so the moment she wanted to leave, he'd be ready.

He prayed that day would come soon. The timeless curse of Storybrooke may have been broken by the Savior, but Rumpelstiltskin still felt like he was trapped in stasis here. His life wouldn't begin until he and Belle crossed the town line and put it behind them for good.

[shadowedoracle]

Family Photos

Summary: Rumbelle go out for ice cream with Henry, Neal and Gideon.

Rating: G

A/N: Happy Rumbelle/ Skin Deep Day/ Fluffapalooza All! This is the first of my two Fluffapalooza fics.

Let me know if there are any typos -- I’ve had a migraine all week and haven’t been able to proofread it as many times as I normally would.

[AO3]

***

Henry’s birthday outing to Any Given Sundae was nearly over. Belle looked around at the other members of her family amazed how far they’d come in two short years. These outings had once been awkward and sometimes tense but today’s had been enjoyable and comfortable.

Henry and Neal were finishing off their massive sundaes and discussing comic books, while Rumple was trying to clean up Gideon.

“Papa!” shrieked Gideon, giggling as Rumplestiltskin wiped chocolate ice-cream off the two year old’s hands and face. He managed to wriggle one of his hands out of his father’s grip to tug on Rumple’s tie. Rumple sighed and began to uncurl Gideon’s stubborn fingers one by one from his tie.

“I suppose this is what I get for not wearing a hazmat suit.” He grumbled as he revealed a set of chocolate marks down his blue silk tie.

Belle giggled as images of her refined and always elegantly dressed husband in a hazmat suit appeared in her mind. Next to her both Henry and Neal laughed clearly imagining the same thing.

“I’d pay good money to see Papa take Gideon to Any Given Sundae in a hazmat suit,” said Neal grinning widely.

“Yeah! We could probably sell tickets,” Henry put in eagerly.

“Not, that I want to squash my grandson’s entrepreneurial spirit…” began Rumple.

Neal snorted, earning him a glare from Rumple as he settled his younger son in his lap. Neal just rolled his eyes.

Rumple harrumphed. “Let’s just move on shall we?” said Rumple testily. “Gideon’s clean enough for a picture now.”

He gave Gideon a hug. Gideon turned a little and lifted his head to give his Papa a smacking kiss, leaving a large patch of chocolaty drool on Rumple’s face.

Belle reached for her phone but before she could snap a photo, Rumple had picked up a napkin and wiped the drool from his face. “Can’t take you anywhere my boy, can we?” he said tickling Gideon slightly, making the little boy giggle and kick his feet.

She smiled, her heart expanding at the clear love between her husband and their son. But she still felt tinge of disappointment at missing the shot of Rumple covered in chocolate ice cream drool.

Neal caught her eye and grinned. He stage whispered across the table, “Don’t worry Belle I got a photo of him before he cleaned himself up. I’ll send it to you.”

She smiled at her step-”son” (of sorts), “Thank you Neal.” “Send a copy to me too, Dad,” put in Henry.

“I hate all of you” Rumple muttered. But effect was ruined by the half-smile on his face. Besides all of them (apart from Gideon) knew how pleased he was that his eldest son and his grandson wanted any photos of him at all. They knew he was beyond happy that Henry allowed these birthday outings with his Dad’s family.

Belle smiled at four of them. “All right. Time for you picture. Now huddle round everyone so I can fit you all in.”

Rumple kept his arms firmly around Gideon, Henry leaned slightly in on Rumple’s right side, while Neal wrapped his arm around his father’s left shoulder and leaned close.

Belle saw Rumple’s mouth twitch almost imperceivably -- she doubted anyone but her would notice that twitch or understand its significance. But Belle knew even after these few years of rebuilding his relationship with Neal Rumple was still surprised his son even deigned to spend time with him -- let alone that he was now comfortable enough with his Papa to initiate physical contact with him again.

Belle smiled as she readied her phone. “Alright smile everyone!” She called.

The four male members of her family all grinned up at her. She snapped a few pictures and satisfied when she managed to get a clear shot of Rumple with his sons and grandson with chocolate marks down his tie and looking like he couldn’t be happier.

She gave a thumbs up to the men so they could relax and began plotting where among the many family photos in their living room she and Rumple should place this one.

[beeeinyourbonnet]

What can you share about what you are currently working on?

Ahhhhhhhhhhh thank you for your question! I am working on three things actively and editing a fourth:

By Hook or By Crook - Rumbelle fic, actively posting new chapters probably on Thursdays because Mondays have not been kind to me xD

A one-shot PWP for Covetous that has gotten Out of Hand and may never be finished due to the out-of-hand nature of it and it may end up being a chapter sequel ficlet instead of just the one chill PWP it was supposed to be xD it may, in fact, contain Themes.

The Beginning of a New Book is bellish and it's completely written so I am just editing as I post new chapters on Fridays!

And then FINALLY, i am working on a BRAND NEW CHAPTERED DEVELLE FIC that also includes Ives from Ravenous. The basic plot is that Belle has been in a bad marriage for years and in order to cut all ties from it, she is working off her estranged husband's debt to Danny. Here is a snippet:

“Oi.” Danny burst in from the club side, and Belle’s spirits perked up for a second or so before plummeting back down. “Did anyone come in here? Mr. fucking Beatty said he fucking dropped off a hundred quid and I told him he was a fucking liar.”

“He was a fucking liar,” Belle agreed. “No one dropped anything off.”

Danny muttered to himself as he stomped to his desk, a little tempest in a teacup. His ostentatiously tight suits had irked Belle when she’d first met him six months ago, but now they were as familiar as Danny himself. 

“Some good news, though.” He shuffled through some papers on his desk. “Your fucking good-for-fucking-nothing husband paid me for the first time since fucking July.”