Prompt: While cleaning the Dark Castle, Belle accidentally stumbles into a room to find Rumpelstiltskin tailoring what appears to be a blue dress. She begins to wonder if all the clothes he provided her were made with his own two hands.
For some reason, it feels important that Belle’s clothes be perfect.
Rumpelstiltskin has never had a maid before - his choice to take Belle had been more about the taking than the having, truth be told. And now she has set a prisoner loose, and they have to venture into the world.
Title: Wild Youth
Summary: Belle is Peter’s and the Lost Boys’ “Mother,” beloved and needed, and so it’s natural for her to care for Rumple, the newest and most timid of the boys. But feelings in Neverland are hard to hide, and everyone grows up sometime. Neverland AU
A/N: Repeatinglitanies prompted this, I hope it turned out ok darling!
Just a reminder: I am officially open for prompts until Sunday :D
Ficlet: Brighter Than Brass
Iambicdearie prompted: I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself king of infinite space were it not that I have bad dreams
Rumpelstiltskin could have made himself a king.
In fact, Regina had assumed that that was his intention, when he’d been so jubilant at her coronation. She’d had feverish, girlish imaginings of him murdering her cold bastard of a husband, and claiming his throne and his bed. She’d wanted that, long ago. She’d wanted to watch on, gleefully, as the darkness eclipsed a kingdom that had so prided itself on its light.
Ficlet: Stranger Than Sympathy
Iambicdearie prompted: "The quality of mercy is not strained./ It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven/ upon the place beneath."
Rumpelstiltskin could be merciful.
Rarely, and often to his detriment, but sometimes it was no bad thing to cause confusion among one’s enemies. He was merciful when it cost him nothing, and gained him everything. He was merciful, when mercy was no more than negligence.
Iambicdearie prompted: Daily Show!AU
"Tonight, we’re joined by Belle French, author of the new work ‘Her Handsome Hero: gender roles, fairy tales, and the saviour complex’!"
The crowd clapped and cheered, as Joshua Gold stood up to greet the diminutive, smiling brunette walking out to meet him. It was rare to have a guest - male or female - who didn’t tower over Gold, and he was pleased to have the chance to actually lean down a little to kiss her cheek, even with them on the same dais, and her in sky-high coral heels.
You want an essay on why I ship this? Cause you got one!
First of all: Beauty and the Beast is my favourite fairy tale, full stop. It always has been, and it always will be; it’s my favourite story and relationship-development plot in any context, and I’ve read/watched any version I can get my hands on because of that. So I was already disposed to ship this.
Fic: Swinging In The Backyard
Title: Swinging In The Backyard
Rating: NC-17 yo
Summary: Seventeen-year-old Lacey French is known in Storybrooke as a problem child, but no one knows about her greatest rebellion: her ‘relationship’ with the town’s most fearsome monster, Mr Gold.
A/N: pre-Emma teenage Golden Lace :D I missed writing dirty things yes I did!
Beauty and the Beast [x]
Touch yourself and let me watch you.
WHY ARE WE NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS????
Wait. You're accepting Time of Day prompts?? Pleeeeeeease: after the curse is broken. Either her POV when it happens and she wakes up or a scene from when they're in the shop.
Here’s what I had for ‘Day One’ the first part of the would-have-been ToD sequel:
“Please,” she said, “please tell me this is the first time you’ve seen me since the castle. Please.”
He could lie to her, he realised: he could claim he’d been as cursed as the rest all along, that he’d not known what he was doing any more than she had. She was here, she didn’t hate him, not enough to never come back, at least. They could begin again.
They could begin again based on a lie, and one that would be easily uncovered at that. And how much more would she loathe him, if he lied to her now, and once again tricked her into his arms?
Time of Day pregnant Belle remix: Belle starts to show and Storybrooke's rumor mill starts.
God I can barely remember that remix! Best shot here we come!
Winter in Maine allows for baggy, oversized sweaters: for that Belle is grateful.
Unfortunately, she can’t wear them all the time, and sooner or later someone was bound to notice. Emma Swan, thankfully, was discreet, but then why wouldn’t she be? Everyone knows shat she was in this same position, when she was younger than Belle is now.
Gold offers to let her stay with him for the duration, but Belle declines. It hurts his pride, she can see, but she’s not stupid: he doesn’t love her, or their child, and while it’s nice to see he does have a sense of duty once in a while that’s all it is. Duty. She didn’t get rid of it when she could, before she felt so goddamn attatched to the baby in her belly, and now she’s stuck with motherhood. Bitterness and cynicism about it are easier than the alternative, she supposes.
But when Regina Mills sees her in her car, heating on full blast and sweater discarded… well, then Belle knows she’s done for. But there’s radio silence for days, and she wonders, she wonders if Gold is wrong, and the Mayor isn’t as cruel as they say.
The Mirror runs a story on it. It makes Belle sick to her stomach, the patronising, cloying, ‘oh poor unfortunate soul’ tone it takes, with the underlying intrigue of ‘who could be the father?’ No one knows, of course, and she won’t tell. But soon, everyone is asking.
Soon, her father is asking. Loudly, with a fist pounding on the table and murder in his eyes, as he swings wildly between accusing her of whoring around town, and swearing to kill whichever bastard knocked her up and left her high and dry.
The money from Gold’s account went into Belle’s every month to pay for her expenses. That makes her feel even sicker: like she is a whore, and now he’s just paying to keep her from saying his name aloud. What would everyone think, if they knew it was his? What would they do?
"You can still move in," he tells her, when she calls and sobs late that night. Moe is kicking her out the next day, baby or no baby. He won’t have the shame on his house, he won’t have his daughter acting so unreasonably, he just won’t have it. "I have a spare bedroom."
"What would everyone say?"
"I don’t know," she can hear the smile in his voice, inexplicable as it is. "Want to find out?"
UMMM PROMPTS UMMM...LEMME THINK. I'ma just give you something completely random and hopefully not too detailed. Prof!Gold is both feeling neglected and intent upon staring at Belle's arse as she studies for her remaining exam, stretched out on the floor of his office. He wants his top student/lover's attention, but each time he tries, she scolds him. He decides to change that.
Not in any established ‘verse, just somewhere where Belle’s a student, Gold’s her professor, and they’re in a relationship.
Finals week was difficult for both of them.
Gold had papers to mark, practice essays and a hundred mock exam sheets, as well as his actual tests to finalise for his classes. Belle, of course, was in the same boat as her peers: these exams mean everything, and she has to study. It was a busy time, and there could be no distractions.
It would, therefore, make sense for her to be in the Library, nice and public and silent, and Gold to lock his office door or even go back to his apartment. But, of course, she’d found herself behind that locked door, and the Library was a long way from anyone’s thoughts.
He heled her to study, she said, claimed that seeing him reminds her of class, which therefore puts her mind on work. Gold wished that were true for him, too.
Seeing her did put him in mind of classes, of course, but not in the sense she was thinking of. More in the way of flipping that little skirt of hers up over her back and taking her mind off her studies entirely.
He gave up focussing on his work about ten minutes ago. Right about when she gave up on sharing his desk, and decided to sprawl with her books on the carpet, instead.
From this angle, Gold could see everything. Her skirt was riding up the back of her thighs, and if he leaned down just a little he could see all the way up…
"Are you staring at me?" she asked, without turning. He straightened, guiltily: how could she make him feel so much like a boy of fifteen caught red-handed, when he was over twice her age?
"Of course not," he scoffed, unconvincingly. "Serious work to do, m’dear."
"Uh huh." That was another talent she had: he could hear a raised eyebrow just from her tone. "Cam, I can feel your eyes on my ass. Stop it."
"You said I had to keep my hands to myself," he said, smoothly, "said nothing at all about my eyes. They do what they want."
"They’ll be doing what they want alone all summer if I flunk this test,” she said, patiently. “Dad’d make me go to summer classes to make up the credits, and there goes the beach plan…”
"There was a plan?" he asked, confusedly, "With who?"
"With no one, if I screw this up," he could hear her smile widening, as she paused for effect, "with you, if I pass. I have a lovely little blue bikini I’ve been wanting to road test… imagine how much fun your eyes’d have with that!"
"Not just the eyes," he muttered, and he heard her giggle.
"Promises, promises. But now, we focus. Study break’s not for another hour."
He sighed, and returned to his work.
Send me prompts/character questions/meta and I’ll try to answer. HELP ME OUT GUISE?
Summary: Rumpelstiltskin puts Belle’s determination to be tactile to the test. She responds with gusto.
AN: Entirely inspired by fairytaleasoldastime’s wonderful gifset. What happened after that moment.