I did! It’s here: http://rufeepeach.tumblr.com/post/60858868641/wait-youre-accepting-time-of-day-prompts
I did! It’s here: http://rufeepeach.tumblr.com/post/60858868641/wait-youre-accepting-time-of-day-prompts
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.
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.
(I suck at answering in-character so here have an explanation)
Because she loves him. Because she’s glad he still loves her, when she’s still hurt he didn’t try to find her after the Queen captured her. Because she remembers their first encounter in the bar, where he was trying to fend her off but he kept looking at her like he couldn’t believe she existed at all.
She knows, rationally, that there were very few options available to him:
Belle is very understanding, very forgiving, and she knows that he wasn’t working under easy circumstances. It hurts, and those memories will haunt their relationship for a long time to come, but she blames Regina more than Rumple no matter how angry she is in general. He was a massive bastard, but that’s nothing new, and she knows that he wouldn’t have acted that way if she’d been herself: his worst moments were in response to the mess Regina made of her.
And because she was in love with him then, and she still loves him now. In the end, she knows she loves him too much to stay away from him for good: she’ll forgive him sooner or later. She can’t not, he’s her true love and what he did is understandable if not commendable. All it’d do is hurt her and hurt him, and why would she choose to separate them again after all this time apart? I think a part of her even resents her cursed personality for having him when Belle herself could not: she wants to make up for lost time.
That doesn’t mean that it’s sunshine and roses, though. Intimacy is very hard for them, with both of them so wary of lapsing back into old habits, and so many things ruined by memories of when everything was dirty and meaningless. It’ll be hard for Rumple to really convince Belle that it’s different now, that sex means something now. Everything’s tainted and she’ll find it hard to get past that.
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?"
Any of my ‘verses are open season!
They never fight.
Why the hell would they? People only fight when they have something they care about, and it’s not as if Belle gives a damn about Gold. He’s awesome in bed, he’s got a good sense of humor, and she spends a lot of time bored out of her mind.
He’s always weirdly polite to her, even in public, when really it’d make more sense for him to be a total asshole. Unfortunately, she’s the only one he’s nice to.
And usually, that’s okay.
Lord I need to remember that I mentioned those things as colour and background not as actual fic ideas FANDOM WHY YOU CALL ME ON MY BULLSHIT?
…you’ve asked this before :P
Marchie had, at some point, prompted ‘cupcake smut’. I had it on a list with a load of other prompts, and was trying to shoehorn them in places to cut down the list.
I used a lot of references like this - the schoolgirl mention in the same fic is another example - to illustrate that these are snapshots of a long-standing affair. They meet twice a week: there’re lots of encounters, like this one, we don’t see. I put it in in part, therefore, to give the relationship some time scale, and prove that they do this casually quite a lot. They’re experimental - foodplay, unconventional location, and oral sex are all mentioned in this one excerpt - and clearly fairly comfortable with one another sexually.
In terms of language, I need to talk about the fact that I was trying to make the first Time of Day - which this became, at the time it was a standalone one shot - downright filthy. I wasn’t going for character, meaning, depth or emotion. I was trying to make it as hot as possible, and so I was using the language I found most appealing in that context. Words which, now, I probably wouldn’t use so lightly. I used to think that lack of use of words like ‘pussy’ was due to wimpishness on the part of the writer. Now I’m realising it’s about where language like that fits: it’s a crude word, and should be saved for a crude setting. I wouldn’t use the word ‘pussy’ in Harmless, for example, because despite there being two sex scenes thus far neither character would think that way. This setting works for that, and it adds to the sense of this being a sexual rather than romantic relationship.
You’re supposed to come out of the purely pornographic ToD fics feeling a little unclean. Even before this was a series, that was the aim. He’s not respectful of her, in this ‘verse, because he’s desperately trying not to convince himself she’s not really Belle. He respects Belle, the real Belle, so much it almost scares him: she’s brave and beautiful and good in all the ways he knows he never was and never will be. This cursed Belle is tarnished, a little cheap and naive. She’s looking for a hot older man to call on a Monday morning and have phone sex with. She’s not looking for love, and so he doesn’t have to remember the ballroom or the rose or the kiss by the spinning wheel.
He uses her for sex because that’s what she wants from him: she’s using him, too. He’s only as crude and disrespectful with her as she is with him. He’s playing yet another part, a part I’d say I wrote in its purest form in my one Ruby/Gold fic. He’s the cruel older man who debauches young women in their beds and uses language from a lad magazine and can be rough and brash and cocky. Rumpelstiltskin is none of those things naturally, but he thinks this new Belle wouldn’t want a woobie coming to her door and asking to court her. He plays the part of the debaucher for her, and it’s all part of the act, as much as the Dark One’s flourishes and giggles. So while the real Rumple wouldn’t really - in my opinion - talk about Belle’s ‘pussy’ or have enough game to scheme her onto her back on the table, or the confidence to try any of that, his version of Mr Gold for her can.
Do those new Lacey photos by the pool table remind anyone of a certain scene in the Time of Day series?! If only it was canon…
OMG I KNOWWWWWWWWWWWWW
Title: Saturday Morning Redux
Summary: He has to see her one last night, one last time, before the end of their world.
A/N: It feels a little strange to leave a series that was basically a sex story on such an innocent note, but this was the only way it could finish, really. This is the chronological end of the Time of Day series, which is kind of a milestone for me. This story comes after Friday Afternoon, chronologically.
He was standing outside Belle’s house at five in the morning.
He couldn’t knock, or call, or throw a stone like he had once upon a time. He wouldn’t do that to her.
Rightfully, Time of Day won best series, because even though it’s full to the brim of smutty goodness, that, at the core, is not what it’s about
wow this whole sentence is so full of innuendo…Rather, it’s about the feelings of the characters. Their growth, the sacrifice on Gold’s part, but also his selfishness. Belle’s self-doubt that she tries to hide with confidence.
Time of Day makes me feel so intensely, unlike any other fic. It’s beautiful and Sat. Morning Redux is the perfect ending to a perfect fic.
Congrats Ru, you should be very very proud of yourself.
Also, I made a little reference sheet with the ToD tidbits Ru scatters about
because I’m a ToD fangirl/stalker.
THANK YOU SO MUCH! I actually don’t know how to respond to that because I’m kind of screaming and speechless right now but :D :D :D
HOW HOW HOW?
HOW THE FUCK DID I WIN BEST SERIES AND BEST WOOBIE!RUM? HOWWWWWW?
I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUUUU.
It’s just amusing me that the things I won with were Time of Day and Harmless. Because although they’re the two things I’m probably most proud of overall that I’ve made for this fandom, they’re also the ones with the worst backstories.
Time of Day I started because way back Calonari and Cyprith wanted a phonesex smut story, and I couldn’t get canon!Belle to do it so I had to improvise. And then Marchie wanted a continuation and it just grew into this pornographic angsty monster.
Harmless was an idea I got from an ouat kinkmeme prompt, that I mentioned to Marchie (noticing a theme here?) and got bullied into continuing. And continuing, and continuing. It’s my longest fic to date in any fandom and still unfinished, but I’m working on it.
And now they’ve both won awards and I’m screaming and dying omg.
I always love roleplay, but with Gold as the begging tenant and Belle as the one with the power. Especially when it involves faux!shame.
This was done at 500 words, but Belle kept talking. I think she’s been wanting to be dom!Belle for a while, and Gold’s happy to be the sub.
NSFW and NC17
This was certainly a first for me, so I hope it works for you anon!
NC-17 AND NSFW YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
He didn’t come to meet her, and usually when that happened he would have called or texted or something, let her know why. But he just didn’t show up, and he wasn’t in his shop either, which made Belle irrationally worried: she didn’t know what she would do if something happened to him.
Being in love sucked, she thought, as she made her way to Mr Gold’s house. For all she knew he was in there with someone else - the pretty Sheriff maybe, even the Mayor - and she’d just be intruding. She had no right to be jealous over someone who had never claimed to love her back.
She rang the doorbell, but there was no response. She eventually managed to jimmy the lock open with a hairpin - a skill that he himself had taught her - and called out, “Mr Gold?”
There was silence, and then a low, slow groan from upstairs. And Belle knew, better than anyone, Gold’s sounds of pleasure: that wasn’t one of them. That sounded more like pain, which made her pulse quicken and her stomach knot. She ran up the stairs, toward the noise, without a second thought that she’d never actually been invited up there before.
He always kept them on the ground floor: kitchen, dining room, living room, guest bed. Nothing to suggest inclusion into the rest of his life: nothing to suggest that she was welcome to tread further.
But she followed the weak little noises into what must have been his master bedroom, wondering if she would find him broken and bleeding, dying of his injuries, or perhaps the victim of a stroke or heart attack. Her heart was pounding, hands shaking, and if she’d rather not care at all about him she was neck-deep in it now and drowning fast.
She almost collapsed from relief when she found him merely lying there surrounded by a sea of used tissues and boxes of cold medicine, his nose red and hair unkempt. He had the flu, apparently, the same one that got Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan alike - and who could possibly know how they caught it from each other? - last week.
"You didn’t call," she snapped, but she came to sit on his bed, by his side, and tenderly stroked his hair back from his face. He was burning up, and she couldn’t help but make a small noise of sympathy for the suffering in his eyes as he looked at her.
"Sorry," he croaked, "been out of it all day."
"Hmm," she pretended to consider it, "well, okay then."
She started to clear away the tissues that surrounded him, putting them all in the waste bin, and took his mug and bowl down to the kitchen without a word. He might not be up to their usual sessions, she thought, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t take care of him. He didn’t comment on it when she came back up with a fresh bowl of soup and glass of orange juice, or when she settled by his side to keep him company, or when she returned the next day to make sure he was okay. And if he didn’t say anything about it, she reasoned, then there was no reason to believe it changed anything.
He makes her come by just talking to her.
Also a little gift for my gorgeous twin because if her day has been anything like mine she probably needs it. And she has been asking for it for a while :P
NC-17 and NSFW, obviously.