Beeeinyourbonnet prompted: Warrior Belle meets the Dark One
When Rumplestiltskin finds an orphaned griffin, it is the perfect excuse to talk to the beautiful beasttamer again. But he can’t just gift the little thing to her, and so ends up owing her a favor instead. Apparently, raising griffins requires 2 sets of hands, and one thing leads to another over the years together.
Belle could say with certainly that she had never seen Rumpelstiltskin this silly before: oh, he would be bashful, or shy, or witty, but never silly. She put some of that down to the amount of wine they’d both had, and that for once in his life, he could relax and enjoy it. They had spent the last week more or less in bed or in the kitchen, cooking, kissing, or lazily making love, with Neal and Emma sometimes stopping by, necessitating showers and clothing.
Note: uses this prompt from Rayvah: Escort! Gold prompt : He and Belle talk about why she stopped calling him. I know you haven’t mentioned taking prompts lately, but I just wanted to submit this while I was thinking about it. You do good work. Sorry to be a bother! (You’re never a bother, omg)
And this prompt from an anon: Escort Gold verse: Belle what went through your mind when Jefferson told you that Gold had quit the escort business?
"King and queen of the whole damn down" yes these are still bowling for soup I'm sorry
Mr. Gold’s wife, Anabelle, was twenty years younger than him and twice as tough, everyone assured Emma. She found that hard to believe: she’d yet to meet the woman, but Mr. Gold seemed harder, somehow, than the mayor, and experience told her that young women married unkind older men for their money.
She likes to read, anything and everything, and he often watches her. She likes to talk while she buries her nose in her books, like she’s making sure he’s still there, and where else would he be?
He listens to the things she wants to say, replies even when she isn’t listening, and he could disappear, it isn’t like he doesn’t have the choice not to stay, but he doesn’t want to.
He’s used to a hectic head, to her imagination and his own, but she’s recovering from the pills, as is he, and…it’s nice, anyway, sitting in the garden while her father’s at work, even if his fingers itch for something more sometimes.
But it’s not potions or magic that his hands want. He dabbles for old times’ sake, much to Belle’s amusement, but it doesn’t satisfy.
It’s strange that it’s worse in the mornings, once she’s showered and eaten and asked him to accompany her out to that rickety little white bench her father has already forgotten to fix for her. Her hair dries slowly and his fingers curl accordingly.
She smells…good. She reminds him of things, things he’d forgotten locked away where he was, and there’s something special about Belle - hadn’t there always been? - something…so very different.
She touches his hand, asks him why he’s frowning, and there it is, touch. He wants to touch her.
And he now he knows, now he understands. He’s a grown up, too.
Belle is a chocolatier and Gold finds that he has a hidden sweet tooth.
The little shop–and it could barely be called that, tucked as it was into three rooms of a converted clothing shop–was headed with a hand-lettered sign that read “Fine Chocolates” and came complete with the smell of sugar and vanilla wafting out the door.
Well, the owner was his new tenant. Might as well put some fear into her, especially if she was going to be running such an unstable business. He prowled inside, narrowing his eyes at the foily, be-ribboned boxes that stood on the shelves (former clothing shelves, as well), each labeled carefully with the type of sweet inside and marked with a sticker that was tasteful but clearly printed off at the copy center.
The owner in question was in sight, working on a clean white counter at the back of the shop (carefully separated from where customers might wander) with a knife and a white tube with a metal tip.
“Isabelle French?” he said, and was rather displeased that she didn’t jump and disturb some of her candies. “I’m your landlord.” She straightened and smiled at him, a little nervously, and came out from her section, holding her hand out.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said. Her hair, caught in a net and scarf, was a ruddy brown, and her eyes a flowery blue. “Would you like a sample?”
He could see a shadow of himself in the way she gestured to the shelves, one eyebrow up, and he smiled back, showing his teeth. Wouldn’t do to let her think him anything less than completely the master at sales and bargaining.
“What’s your price?” he said, leaning forward a little on his cane, and some genuine humor crept into her eyes. She was very pretty, and she was close enough that he could smell flour and cocoa on her skin.
“You can fix the hot water heater for the building.”
He was dressed for the occasion, head to foot in spiky leather and silk. His cravat was pinned with a brass and gold pin, design halfway between a spiderweb and a spinning wheel. His boots were laced up past his knees, and overall, he cut a figure between a courtier and a monster, just as he liked.
Thanks for the high-five! I am happy to be an ally with you for Develle!! :-) By the way, I absolutely adore all of your stories too. You are one of my favorite Rumbelle and Anyelle writers!! :-) Let's do this, and get our Develle first time!!! <3
PRIMAL ROAR OF FRIENDSHIP AND GRATITUDE <3
Alone, we might be bought off with cutesy candy and goofy beee-antics and helpful makeup tips, but together we will prevail.
Those are the ones off the top of my head, but Season 8 Redo is really long and awesome so it should last you a while. I haven’t written any (yet), but I do have a smutty oneshot in the works and a more serious fic as well. Both are about halfway completed.