Some things never change.
Things are different, with the Curse broken.
Belle is more herself with every passing day, while Rumpelstiltskin remains the same. The insecurities that had plagued her as Isabelle French melt away, and she feels firmer, more substantial. Belle has always known who she is, it’s the world around her that seems to change on a dime.
She knows Rumple loves her. She’s known that since the Dark Castle, and their stint as troubled lovers in Storybrooke has done nothing to change it.
AU: Belle arrives, bruised and bleeding, on the doorstep of a lame spinner and his son. On the run from the war and its causes, her short stop-over becomes something else entirely.
A/N: Yeah I got bullied into updating. I love this fic, but damn it doesn’t come easy! Anyway, enjoy :)
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 -Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15
“Papa,” Bae shakes Rumpelstiltskin’s arm, but his father sits frozen still in shock and fear and barely sways with the motion, “Papa! Who’s with Belle?”
“Belle?” The other prisoner - Sir Gaston, apparently - is suddenly all alert. “Surely… you can’t mean the Duke’s daughter?”
Bae nods, urgently, “She’s my step-mama, my papa’s new wife. She was… she was supposed to be with you. Safe.”
Elementary AU - Holmes = Gold, Watson = Abigail, Bell = Belle :D
"This was your fault, Detective!" Gold snapped, pulling at the handcuffs, trying in vain to wrench the firm metal band from his wrists.
"What have I done?" Belle demanded back, struggling herself. They settled after a long moment, breathing hard and still bound together. And to a chair. In the middle of his living room. Alone.
“You decided to lend your handcuffs to my associate!” Gold argued, “And no, I don’t want to know what Abigail and her charming boyfriend did with them. Some mysteries can remain unsolved.”
The armchairs in the new castle were comfortable. That, at least, Belle could say for this new-old world.
The rest, she was less than impressed with. But the chairs were comfy, and she pressed a hand to her slightly-swollen belly almost unconsciously as she tried to focus on that, and not on the ache in almost every inch of her body.
She was lonely, she thought, that was the problem. Lonely, and pregnant, and heartbroken: she was exactly where her father had predicted she would end up, falling in love with the Dark One. He hadn’t been right, but he’d been accurate.
"Three months, Rumple," she whispered, "three months."
Title: More Than Enough
Summary: Yuletide brings back memories of home, but where Belle wants to bring the magic to where she is, Rumpelstiltskin wants nothing more than to hide from the past.
A/N: Secret Santa gift for the lovely druidkitty, who prompted ‘FTL!Rumple hates Yuletide; Belle disagrees’. I’m sorry for being a fairly absent Santa sweetie, life’s been hectic lately and things got away from me. I hope the fic makes up for it somewhat!
Also yes, I might have seen Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas a hundred too many times :P
Something about Rumpelstiltskin was changing; Belle could feel it.
It started after the incident with Robin Hood, although the leaves were only just turning then. Belle had found fresh clothes in her cell, another cushion, some blankets for her cot. She had finally been able to change out of that damnable golden dress into something more comfortable for cleaning, with a skirt hemmed above her ankles and sleeves that covered her collarbones.
Follows on from ‘Wild Youth’, between the second to last and last scenes.
Sometimes, Belle dreams.
Children are supposed to dream of Neverland, and most do. That’s how the Shadow finds, them after all, through those dreams that bring their souls to this place. That was how she ended up here.
But Belle doesn’t enjoy dreaming, not anymore, and usually she is too tired to do so. She builds herself a hut, and hangs the talisman about her neck, and she has to hunt and fish and gather every day to stave off her hunger. She’s exhausted, and lonely, and so when she closes her eyes she rarely sees more than darkness.
But sometimes, Belle still dreams. Were she home, in a world with time and real ageing and adults, she’d be perhaps fourteen years old. And teenaged girls dream, this much Belle knows, and she cannot deny her nature.
But she is not a child, not anymore: Belle does not dream of Neverland.
No, it’s so much worse than that. Instead, Belle dreams of what all young women dream of - Belle dreams of love, and her love is long gone and lost.
Belle forgave Rumple for running away almost as soon as she’d heard it. She’s only glad that one of them could get out, get away and live a real life. She hopes he’s happy, oh, Gods above, more than anything Belle hopes that Rumple is happy now. Perhaps he met another girl, and had children of his own. Perhaps he has forgotten Neverland, and Belle with it, and even as her heart breaks to think it Belle hopes it is true.
One of them should be happy, and it surely isn’t her.
When Belle dreams, she sees Rumpelstiltskin. She sees him in the dark, like the night he came and kissed her, smiling like firelight and telling her that they belonged together, that they could be happy. She can feel his lips on hers, if she thinks hard enough, if she believes it.
Sometimes, Peter finds her when she forages, and sends the image of her Rumple to taunt her. Belle has her dreams, though, and Pan cannot take those away from her.
Decades pass, by Belle’s counting, longer. Rumple, out in another world, in a real time and place, has probably lived and loved and died an old man, and here Belle is, still the same as she was when she last saw him, trapped in stasis and alone. She must always miss him, long for him, for a boy who became a man, and who died long ago.
Finally, she finds herself staring at her make-shift ceiling, one night a hundred years after he left her, one question poised on her lips.
Why did he go where I can’t follow?
time of day - belle pocket dials gold by accident
One day I will run out of times of day and this series will have to die. Or I’ll just start using ‘redux’: that worked last time. This is set just before Monday Morning.
This wasn’t meant to be smutty, it was meant to be angst. Instead, fluffy porn. I suppose I owe Celina that much for the swanfire angst I subject her to :P
His number’s set to speed-dial on her phone; Belle doesn’t stop to consider this, even as she’s adding it in.
She never calls her father - if she needs him, she can find him, and she very rarely does - so Gold is only the second person she’s added to the list. Ruby’s at the top, but that’s more for ease of texting than anything else. She adds Gold just in case. She still hasn’t used it.
It’s a Thursday when she realises what a mistake it was.
Rabbits verse: the curse is broken
So this fic happens about eight years after ‘Rabbits on the Run’, and will make little to no sense without it, sadly.
The apple tree in Regina’s backyard is banned: everyone knows that.
But Henry, eighteen and drunk on a bottle of Paige’s stolen liquor, wants to be impressive, and his mother’s apple tree isn’t actually poisonous. People only say that because she’s scary, and Henry’s not scared of Regina, not any more.
Time Of Day - verse: They just wanted to have sex after a horrible day, but in the end she is telling him about her mother’s death.
Ohmygod this is perfect thank you
Moe is being an asshole.
Belle stopped thinking of her father as ‘papa’ right around the time he was attaching a lock to her door so that he could keep her inside. She was fifteen, and clambering down the tree to the back garden when she first thought ‘Moe’s a bastard’.
She still usually calls him ‘papa’ to his face, of course, but the title implies a certain respect which, though it breaks her heart, Belle cannot afford to the man who ostensibly raised her.
He’s bad tempered, controlling, and petty. And he never remembers to pay the rent.
Any of my Rumbelle ‘verses (Time of Day, Rabbits, Not Quite Yet, Bounty Hunter!Belle ect), plus any other OUAT pairing are up for grabs!
Title: An Honest Day’s Work
Summary: Rumpelstiltskin’s cursed persona in Storybrooke is not the powerful Mr Gold but Gaz, an out-of-work factory worker and the ex husband of Mayor Mills, who has custody of his son. Out of desperation to earn enough for a real custody bid, Gaz finds himself an honest job - a cleaner and handyman for the town’s landowner, Ms French.
Or, that one where Gold’s Storybrooke personality is Gaz from The Full Monty.
A/N: I worked on this over a year ago, and then set it to one side because of reasons. However, I like it as a snippet/oneshot, and Straggle had some bad news today, so here’s some cheer-up fic - the closest thing to Anyelle my crossover-phobic muse can create! Enjoy bb!
“Gareth Gold?” Annabelle looked up from the CV to the man in front of her, frowning, “Really?”
He nodded, looking earnest and serious. It didn’t suit him. Anna could tell time wasters a mile off - it wasn’t easy, after all, to be a woman running a business, even these days - and this guy had it written all over him.
Waster, joker, layabout, wheeler-dealer.
“Gaz, actually,” he said, with a little smile. She supposed it was supposed to be charming: wonderful, he was also probably also a self-proclaimed ladies’ man.
“Right,” she smiled back, “Gaz.”