leroy downes

very self-indulgent Yuri on Ice Pokemon AU because I can and pokemon au is always important to me


Yuuri: I want a lucky charm so I can win the championships.

Viktor: Aww!

fandom: Aww!

*Gets engaged to Viktor*

Originally posted by gajanoncensure

The Beta Chapter 2

Tuesday started out drizzling, but by lunch time, the sun had come out, warming up the air and shining down on the battered hatchback that just entered the rain-kissed, sleepy town of Storybrooke.

Belle and her friends had spent the morning hopping from one small antique store to another, taking the scenic route along the coast and their stomachs were beginning to protest. They slowly drove down the main street keeping an eye out for a restaurant in which they could all agree upon when Belle, sitting in the back seat, grabbed at Leroy’s shoulder.

“Stop here!” she cried out and, before anyone could protest, she scrambled out of the back without waiting for her friend to lean the seat forward. “I need to look at this.”

Leroy rolled down the window as Astrid leaned over his lap from the passenger side. “It’s closed, Belle. There’s nothing for you to look at. And you’re not allowed to steal the books. We didn’t bring enough money to bail you out of jail,” he said with a cocky smirk.

She made a face at them. “I see that it’s closed,” she said. “I just want to take a look around.” She glanced around the street a bit. “And then I can go to that shop across the street.” She pointed it out to her friends. “You guys go ahead, I’ll see you in an hour.”

Astrid reached into the back seat and grabbed her purse. Leroy took it from her and handed it to Belle. “Fine. We’ll go back to that fish and chips place we passed by the harbor.”

“Mmm. Yeah, make that an hour and a half then?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Sure thing, sister,” Leroy said as he cranked the window back up. “Call us when you’re done snooping!” he called out as he put the car into gear and did a hasty U-turn.

She waved them off half-heartedly, her attention already on the run down library before her. It was boarded up and the paint was chipping, but she discovered small gaps between the newspaper covering the windows and given enough scrutiny, she could tell that the place, while outdated and certainly dusty, had potential. It still had full shelves, for goodness’s sake. How could a town let its library close, she wondered as she peered through every window she could reach. There wasn’t any contact information posted, but she could easily find it online if she looked. And she would definitely make inquiries.

She snapped a picture of the sign and sent it to her Instagram account, debating whether to get lunch first or shop around a bit. The shop was closer than the diner she’d noticed on her way into town and that decided her.

She’d browse Mr. Gold’s Antiquities and Pawn Shop and then grab a slice of pie.


Mr Gold’s phone beeped, alerting him to a new post on Bookwyrm’s Instagram. He’d been getting alerts periodically throughout the day, shamelessly living vicariously through the pictures she shared. He would feel bad about it,but it was a public account, which she shared with the entire world. So far that day she’d taken pictures of whatever had caught her fancy: a taxidermied jackalope wearing a tuxedo jacket and holding a pipe, a set of antique silverware tarnished with age, a lobster trap that may or may not have had lobster bits still in it, a bowl of Japanese glass floats, and, his favorite, one selfie featuring her beautiful, smirking face and a Starbucks coffee cup (#Selfie #CaffeineIsMyFirstLove).

He just fished the phone out of his pocket and glanced at the picture when he felt the air whoosh out of his chest.

It was a picture of the Storybrooke Free Library (#Closed #SoSad #NewProject?) just across the street. Just across his street. She was actually here in Storybrooke. He looked up quickly hoping to catch a glimpse of her through the window before she left town when the bell over his door jingled and she, the very she he was spying on, Bookwrym herself, walked into his shop like a ray of sunshine.

His usual greeting died on his lips as he took his first look at her in person. He nearly stumbled, but caught himself against the counter before anything truly embarrassing occurred. He’d seen pictures of her, of course, but they didn’t do her justice. He didn’t expect her to be so pretty in real life. He thought perhaps the filters she used made her seem ethereal, but the truth of her beauty left him breathless. Her eyes were a blue he’d only ever seen once before during a short trip to the Caribbean decades ago. She was also much tinier than he’d expected… as was her skirt.

He gulped when he realized that, though she was small in stature, her legs were very much indecently long. Everything about her surprised him. A part of him didn’t want to think that she was real. He liked to think of her as an invisible friend, nonjudgemental and waiting for him every night in his computer, and to be so abruptly faced with her reality threw his world off kilter.

He recovered quickly, his eyes never leaving her face. “Good afternoon.”

She beamed at him. “Hey! You must be Mr. Gold.”

Her smile was infectious and he caught himself smiling back with amusement — her accent had caught him off-guard. It didn’t occur to him that Bookwym would be an immigrant just as he was.

“I am,” he said, enjoying the way his own brogue, lighter than it was before he came to the States, made her eyes widen in surprise. “Is there something I can help you with?”

She tilted her head a bit as she considered him. “No. Well, yes. I’m here to look around, but I was wondering about the library across the street, too. How long has it been closed?”

“Ah, yes. The mayor shut that down about five years ago. It’s, uh, been empty ever since.”

Her face fell. “Why did they close it?”

He shrugged. “The mayor didn’t think it was prudent to keep it open. You see we’re a small town with little growth—”

“But the place is surrounded by forests and nearly every other town along the coast have new developments.” She let out a breath of frustration. “I don’t understand.”

“The forests are protected,” he explained. “It’s part of the appeal of living here. It keeps the community small and close-knit, but it does have a side effect. Not a whole lot of room for new families means no real growth and not very much tax revenue coming in… Well, the library wasn’t the only program cut.”

“I see. That’s a shame.” She looked out the window at the empty building before shaking herself out of her reverie with a rueful smile. “I’m sorry, I’m a librarian myself so I kind of take a professional interest in it.” She held out her hand to him. “I’m Belle French.”

He grasped her small hand, noticing with pleasure how his hand dwarfed hers. She had a firm handshake and her fingers were soft. He resisted the urge to stroke her knuckles with his thumb and released her hand before he could do something foolish.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss French,” he said with all honesty.

She gave him a small smile before gesturing to his shop. “Is it okay if I look around? I don’t have to meet my friends for another hour and your place is full of interesting things.”

He blinked, taken aback a bit. What kind of shop wouldn’t encourage browsers? “Of course,” he said, biting back a smile. “Let me know if you need anything.”

She thanked him with another blinding smile and strolled towards a set of first editions he had on display in a glass case. He wandered back to the register, determined on keeping busy so as not to stare too much, but he couldn’t help when his eyes strayed to her time and again as she wandered about the shop. The dilemma of telling her who he really was was weighing on him. He should say something, but… he glanced down at himself, the overwhelming feeling of being a disappointment overtaking his common sense. Belle would be polite, of course, but he didn’t want to see the look on her face when she when she learned that her internet friend was a middle-aged man. No doubt she held an image in her head of what he might look like and he held no qualms about the fact that anything she could dream up would be the exact opposite of what he really was.

Eventually, he gravitated towards her, too curious about what she was doing to stay away.

Belle was fiddling with her phone for a moment with an in intense look of concentration on her face.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She glanced up at him briefly. “Trying to crop it a bit. I promised someone pictures today.”

He looked at the glass mobile then back at her. “And you think this will interest her?”

“Him,” she corrected under her breath as she hit send. “Um… I don’t know actually. But I found it interesting and it’s my account.” She gave him a proper smile then. “I’ll find out later!”

His lips quirked. “I guess so.”

Half a minute later his phone alerted him to a new message. Belle politely waited for him to look at it, but he just stood there.

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

He shook his head slightly. “Not while there are customers in the shop. Deplorable business practice.”

“I don’t mind,” she said, holding up her own phone as proof. “It may be important.”

“If it is then they would call.”

“Okay. Do you mind if I take more pictures? Your shop is lovely.”

He held out a hand as if to usher her into a ballroom. “Help yourself. If you want to see something closer just let me know.”

“Thank you. I should probably tell you I can’t buy anything expensive.”

“You don’t have to buy anything at all. But the offer stands. If you want me to take something out of a display that’s… doable.”

He busied himself by the register, scribbling half-heartedly in his ledger but kept an eye on her progress as she roamed around the store, phone in hand taking pictures of whatever she fancied. A few she deemed worthy enough to send to her Instagram account, the unicorn mobile for one, an antique pair of binoculars caught her eye and they were picked up, fondled, and photographed with meticulous attention to detail. Every few moments a beep would come from his own phone in his pocket but he steadily ignored it and Belle was so engrossed in the merchandise that she didn’t seem to notice after the first one.

She paused at the pair of wooden puppets hanging on their stand, looking at them with horrified fascination.

“These are terrible,” she said, her mouth pursed in distaste.

He chuckled a bit and came closer, reaching out with a well-manicured finger to stroke the linen shirt of the male puppet. “They really are ugly aren’t they? However, they are masterfully done by an Italian artist over two hundred years ago. Tastes have changed since then so allowances must be made.”

“I dunno,” she said, uncertainly. “It’s nightmare fuel to me. I’ll probably lie awake all night thinking they followed me home.”

She hit send on her phone then walked over to a tea set.

His phone beeped.

He closed his eyes, wishing he’s turned the phone off before he opened the store today. Except he’d been expecting photos of Bookwym’s day trip, but then Bookwym transformed into Belle and now he was stuck literally advertising that he was creeping on her.

He cleared his throat softly and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Maybe he could silence the phone without making it obvious.

Except his phone was in his inner suit pocket. Damn it.

He took his hands back out lest he giver her the wrong impression and then he didn’t know what to do with his them. They didn’t feel so heavy and useless before, why did they just hang there like bags of meat now?

“This is beautiful,” she said, picking up a porcelain cup and running a delicate finger over the gold edging. “It’s simple and elegant.”

“Yes, that’s a new acquisition. There was an estate sale a few weeks ago,” he said, happy to have any distraction now that he was a nervous ball of energy. He could tell her about anything in his shop with great detail — except for himself, of course.e picked up one of the matching cups and turned it over in his hands, displaying the stamp on the bottom. “It’s fine china and hand painted. If you hold it up, you’ll be able to see the light shine through it a bit. Very well made. I was glad to get a complete set.”

“How much are you asking?” she said, as she held the cup up to a sunbeam. The light shone through perfectly.

For her? The next chapter she was writing? Free? “Um… I, haven’t priced it yet.” he hedged, hoping to stem the flood of stupid words he wanted to utter.
“Why have it on display then?”

“I like to look at pretty things,” he stated, simply.

She took a picture of the cup in her hand and sent it off to the great void. She kept the cup in her hand as she walked along the display, stopping only when his phone beeped again. Something seemed to click and she slowly turned to look at him.

“You’ve been getting a lot of messages,” she said, her eyes narrowed in thought.


She pulled out her phone, scrolled to a random picture and sent it, her eyes never leaving his face.

His phone beeped like something from an Edgar Allen Poe story. The Tell Tale Phone. Belle dropped the cup she’d been holding as he brought out his mobile with a shaking hand. The cup was damaged now, with a chip along its rim. Gold didn’t care.

She was quiet for a moment as she thought it over.

He hoped she wouldn’t connect the dots. He hoped he wouldn’t screw this up too badly.

“You’re The_DarkOne45 aren’t you?” she said quietly.

He nodded. If he kept his mouth shut, he wouldn’t say something ridiculous. It was his best plan.

“You know who I am?”

He nodded again, knowing his plan wasn’t going to work by a long shot.

“You weren’t going to say anything?” she asked incredulously. “You were seriously going to let me walk out without telling me?”

“Well, I didn’t know if you would want me to or not.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Why wouldn’t I want to meet you?”

“Bo— Belle. Look, I wanted to keep my real life separate from my online life. I can’t let the two intertwine.”

She blinked, hurt crossing her features. “Okay. Well, yes, I can understand that, Mr. Gold. You’re a businessman and a father, well respected in your community. Being active in an online fandom is probably something you want to keep quiet. I probably seem like some weirdo to you.”

“No. Belle, look at me. I’m a middle-aged, handicapped, divorced man who frequently chats up a much younger, twenty-something—”

“I’m twenty-seven,” she muttered.

“And I’m forty-eight. If anyone is the… weirdo, it would be me.”

“I don’t think you’re a weirdo.”

“And I don’t think you’re a weirdo.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is online I’m… liked.”

“You think I won’t like you if we were to, say, go to that diner across the way and chat over hamburgers?”

“And what would we talk about?” he said with exasperation, frustrated at his inability to explain himself fully. This was why he preferred being online in the first place. “Fairy Tale Land episodes? Character development? We have nothing in common.”

She frowned at him. “How do you know that? We did quite well this afternoon before your phone tipped me off that you were following my Instagram.” Her eyes widened in shock. “Oh my god, you’ve been following my Instagram account! You’ve never once said anything!” she accused.

“Must I remind you that I am desperately trying not to come off as a stalker?”

She stared in horror at her phone. “Oh my god.”


She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before shaking her head helplessly. “Nothing. I’m already embarrassed, what’s one more thing?” She looked at him sadly. “Look, I’ll make things a lot less awkward. Let me pay for the cup I broke and I’ll go.” She reached into her purse and started digging for her wallet. “How much do I owe you, Mr. Gold?”

“It’s just a cup.”

“I broke it.”

“I have insurance.”

She stood there with her wallet in her hand, grocery receipts hanging out of it like trailing ribbons. “Okay,” she said finally, stuffing the wallet back into her purse and hoisting it onto her shoulder. She set the chipped cup the counter, staring at it for a moment before looking at him, blinking back unshed tears. “It was very nice meeting you anyway.” She turned on her ridiculous heels and walked out the door, the bell jangling as the door closed behind her.

He cursed and walked to the window, watching her head to the harbor.

He pulled out his phone and checked his messages. There were twelve alerts from her account and, instead of going after her as he wanted, he clicked on the first one. It was a close up of one of the unicorns on the mobile, #Pretty #Mobile #Pointy. He smiled to himself as he went through her pictures, enjoying her unique view of his shop and her hashtag abuse #Puppets #NightmareFuel #Binoculars #Exquisite #Detail #Teaset. It was an interesting perspective until he came to one she had taken of him standing off to the side of his register. She was so sneaky about it, he didn’t even notice she had taken one of him.

#Sexy #SuitPorn #HairPorn #SilverFox #Gorgeous #Yes #I'llTakeHim #DearGod #HeHasAnAccent #OvaryExplosion

He stared at his phone, her rapid departure suddenly clear to him. His heart raced when he realized fully what had just happened. He’d met someone he’d admired for months then smashed any chance for a real relationship to pieces. She would surely block him from contacting her again.

He picked up the tea set and brought it back with him. Even if the cup wasn’t broken there was no way he could part with it now.


Try || Gibbs & Abby [Gabby] || NCIS

A vid for an awesome Gabby Fan HeavenlyGabby , enjoy.