June 2013
85 posts
thestraggletag replied to your post: thestraggletag replied to your photo: At first I…
Butterflies trying to get laid is no joke, Wounded. Butterflies help pollination which in turns is vital to plant reproduction, which is key to the survival of all animals and the health of the planet. It’s serious shit.
*Clicks fingers in scientist-esque fashion* By Jingo, you’re right!
Speed dating, Strag. Speed dating is the answer.
thestraggletag replied to your photo: At first I was like awh, but then I realised…
Turning to mind-altering substances to have sex is not cool, Mr Butterfly.
Agreed. He just needs to work on his game, or flutter his wings in an attractive yet rugged fashion. Never any need to resort to love-dust.
I can’t believe we’re talking about f’king butterflies trying to get laid, Strag. Also, I’m glad you took some time off and that now you’re back (:
Prompt: Hellfire remix. Gold isn’t woobie, but rather his normal, grumpy, mean and manipulative Storybrooke self.
Note: Under the cut due to length.
It’s been a slow night for Lacey French, hence the fact she doesn’t have anyone latched onto her neck or trying to drag her into the alley behind The Rabbit Hole, and there are only so many men in Storybrooke that she can get through before the old faces start cropping up again, looking desperate.
But before she can steady herself in her high heels as she steps out of the pub doors, she runs into someone else and she’s brusquely hauled upright, before being pushed back.
The cold wall catches her this time, and she’s left staring at Father Gold as she braces herself against the brick.
“Watch it,” she spits, because there’s no love lost between her and the cantankerous old bastard.
His eyes are hard and dark as he casts the briefest glance her way, while he brushes at his immaculate black coat sleeves, the material too fine by far for a poor priest. He’s been dipping into the collection fund again, she’ll bet.
He scoffs, taking a step closer. “I’m hardly the one who needs to be watching where I’m going. Legless again, are we, French?”
She eyes the way he’s leaning, the leg he’s favouring tonight. “What about you? Too much communion wine, or do the nuns bite?”
Um… I don’t have words. Nope. My brain melted out of my ears sometime during the rough alley sex. Gah. Hellfire is just so deliciously wrong, and you’ve managed to make it hotter and more wrong.
Never stop writing, in either version of Hellfire.
Prompt: Harry Potter AU, with Death Eater turned double-agent Gold and eager to join the Order Belle.
Of course Belle had figured out who Dreamy worked for in his spare time, just like when she’d known that he was seeing Astrid from Misinformation. She’s not an Unspeakable for nothing.
But, of course, the Order of the Yaoguai is top secret - hush-hush beyond belief - and it’s taken months for Dreamy to be granted permission to bring her along to one of their monthly meetings.
Belle, however, is still stuck outside of the main meeting room in the London townhouse the Order uses as a base-camp. She sits in a chair at the lit fireplace, sipping the cup of tea Granny had given her before the silver-haired woman had bustled into the dining-come-meeting room and locked the door.
She’s stuck for an hour in the gloomy room with its dust and lack of reading material before there’s movement along the hallway.
Belle turns, expecting to see the stout form of Dreamy, but instead her eyes come across someone of a slimmer build. The man isn’t terribly tall and his sallow sort of skin speaks of long days and sleepless nights.
He comes towards her, in his black cloak and muggle shoes, and when he steps into the firelight, floorboards creaking beneath his weight, Belle recognises him.
He watches her for a moment, from behind the wingback across from hers, and when he speaks, his voice is low and rich, rolling with deep Scottish grit.
“They say you’re brilliant.”
Belle hardly dares to blink at the man with the dark eyes that she’s seen on Ministry ‘wanted’ posters for years. “I suppose.”
“Supposing doesn’t do much good where we’re going tonight, dearie.” He sees her confusion and he smiles at it, thin and mirthless. “You’re coming with me on a mission. We’ll see what you’re made of soon enough.”
He turns, and she follows, leaving her empty teacup behind.
An evening out with Rumford Gold, one of Britain’s darkest wizards and most hunted men. Belle’s always loved a spot of adventure.
Prompt: Belle is Regina’s secretary and can’t stand Gold because of what her boss keeps telling her.
“I suppose she told you I steal children from their beds, too. For their hides, perhaps?”
Belle, startled, looks up from the smiling toddler with the mop of brown curls and the chocolate ice-cream cone, and straight into Mr Gold’s eyes. He stands with a hand tousling the boy’s hair, and in his full lawyer-esque regalia.
“Excuse me?”
He gives her a slight smile as he squints in the sun that floods Storybrooke’s Main Street. “Regina. I’m sure she gave you all manner of reasons to fear me. At least, I assume that’s why you looked so worried when you saw my son with me.”
Belle can’t hide her blush.
It hadn’t just been her boss who had spoken against Mr Gold, a weekly visitor at the mayoral offices of Storybrooke, but also her father and Ruby, among most of the town. He’s known for his scowl and his tough business, but he’s not scowling now. It had been wrong, she knows, to judge him so quickly when the most she’s ever said to him is that he could enter Regina’s office.
A little voice interrupts. “Papa.”
“Ah, yes. Bae, this is Belle.”
She dazedly takes the boy’s proffered hand in hers and gives it a shake, but, unfortunately, it leads to an accident with the ice-cream cone in his other fist.
Yes, Belle thinks as she tries not to laugh, Mr Gold certainly isn’t as awful or as terrifying as she’d originally thought, certainly not with ice-cream running down his trouser leg.
But the boy doesn’t cry and Mr Gold doesn’t scold. She feels like an apology is in order.
“Would you like another? My treat,” Belle tells Bae, and his wide brown eyes - just like his father’s - light up again. “For the both of you,” she adds.
Mr Gold’s lip quirks. “I’m sure a scoop of strawberry will soothe my aching pride.”
Belle smiles and decides, as Bae leads them both into the ice-cream parlour, never to listen to gossip again.
Prompt: Hellfire remix. Gold isn’t woobie, but rather his normal, grumpy, mean and manipulative Storybrooke self.
Note: Under the cut due to length.
It’s been a slow night for Lacey French, hence the fact she doesn’t have anyone latched onto her neck or trying to drag her into the alley behind The Rabbit Hole, and there are only so many men in Storybrooke that she can get through before the old faces start cropping up again, looking desperate.
But before she can steady herself in her high heels as she steps out of the pub doors, she runs into someone else and she’s brusquely hauled upright, before being pushed back.
The cold wall catches her this time, and she’s left staring at Father Gold as she braces herself against the brick.
“Watch it,” she spits, because there’s no love lost between her and the cantankerous old bastard.
His eyes are hard and dark as he casts the briefest glance her way, while he brushes at his immaculate black coat sleeves, the material too fine by far for a poor priest. He’s been dipping into the collection fund again, she’ll bet.
He scoffs, taking a step closer. “I’m hardly the one who needs to be watching where I’m going. Legless again, are we, French?”
She eyes the way he’s leaning, the leg he’s favouring tonight. “What about you? Too much communion wine, or do the nuns bite?”
400 Noodles (Followers) on Wonder's Dash
Because you guys do realise I haven’t even been on here as a writer for that long - from Christmas, maybe - and I got into the OUaT party way late, and yet here I am with all this love being hurled at me and left on my dash-doorstep in pretty little baskets that surprise me each and every single time, and…
I’ve been in a hell of a lot of fandoms - I’ve written for 29 - but I have never ever been welcomed into any like I have with you guys. Never.
Just… Thank you.
You guys are so warm and totally freaking nuts, and…I mean, porn is currency here.
Finally.
Need to think of way to celebrate, pronto.
Prompt: Genderswap. Belle is curious what it feels like for him when they make love. Luckily Rum happens to own a magic plot device that lets them switch bodies for her to find out.
Note: Under the cut due to length.
“Dangerous business, changing heads like that,” Rumplestiltskin tells Belle, hanging up his suit jacket in the closet. “Jefferson’s hatting’s getting out of hand.”
Belle bites her lip as she takes a seat on the end of their comfortable king-sized bed, the sheets silky in their softness against her bare thighs as she makes to slowly undo the buttons of her dress and prepare for bed, as per usual.
W e l p.
That’s a kink I never thought I’d have.
Prompt: Art class AU. Cooking for two.
“I’m sorry Bae couldn’t come,” Belle tells him sincerely, hand clasping his as they sit amidst the debris of dinner at one end of the long dining table, set for three but destined for two. “I was really looking forward to meeting him, but there’s always next time.”
Gold nods, a faint smile on his lips, and he doesn’t bother rehashing Milah’s late phone call that had informed him his son would be going with her to her parents’ rather than his for the weekend, though he still seethes. Never mind that he’d been looking forward to Bae’s visit since he’d left last Sunday, and never mind that Belle and he had made a delicious dinner of his boy’s favourites, because Milah’s belated misplaced jealousy and reluctance is, obviously, far more important.
He stares at the large strawberry and cream sponge cake that Belle had made herself at home, unbeknownst to him, as a surprise for Bae. His anger amasses at the sight, but it’s late and he’s too tired to call Milah and cite custody rights again.
“I just wish he could see it, that’s all,” Gold murmurs aloud, fingers absently stroking Belle’s slender wrist.
“He can,” she tells him, and he turns to look at her. “Just take a picture with your phone. He has a cell, right?”
Gold thinks Milah would never have given Bae a mobile for Christmas had she thought of this, and it makes him smirk as he takes a moment to find his phone and then the perfect angle to take a photo of the cake. Belle ends up holding up the plate her masterpiece sits on as he takes a photo of the both of them, his free arm about her shoulders.
Gold sends the picture with a short message - a promise from Belle about making Bae another cake when he next visits - and he is halfway through a slice of the dessert, smiling with Belle over their tiny victory, when a reply comes. Gold hadn’t expected his son to still be awake gone eleven, though now he knows he should have.
Bae’s message is short.
Hi, Belle. Dad, pls hold onto her.
Belle laughs and says it’s because of the cake. But Gold thinks it has something more to do with how they smile so brightly together.
Prompt: Mr Gold/Belle AU. She sleeps with him to settle her father’s debts.
She’s old enough to make her own decisions, Belle French tells him, as she tugs down the freshly unfastened shoulder of her lovely yellow dress with shaking fingers.
The back room of his shop is bright with sunlight, the thick crimson curtains cast onto the floor from Belle’s cleaning, and illuminated particles of dust are all that stand between Gold and his shop assistant’s bare, pale skin.
The French girl is here because her father can’t keep his money in his pockets, because Moe digs deep and borrows as much as he can from Storybrooke’s single loan shark, and this, this trembling proposition, is her way of ending the debt she’s here to work off by cleaning and keeping stock.
Never mind that the only flesh of his that is visible is his scowl, never mind that he holds his infamous cane in a death-grip, the girl undresses despite his silence, and she’s a brave one, he’ll give her that.
When she’s done, when she’s naked by the side of the camp bed he keeps for late nights in the shop, she looks him in the eye. Her blue gaze is unwavering, even as she wraps her slender arms about her waist and lets her long auburn curls fall, covering the rise of her breasts.
He sees her reluctance. He sees her fortitude. He wonders if Moe asked her to do this.
Gold, with dexterity, lifts her discarded dress from the floor, letting it hang on the curved golden head of his cane. He holds it out to her, not sparing a glance at the beauty she’s trying to sell him - he who steals glances during her work days when she isn’t looking and thinks of what ifs, he who is already sold and on more than her tits and teeth - and when he speaks, it is with gruff and undisguised care, rather than dismissive condescension.
“Master of all trades, they call me, dear. But not that one.”
He’ll never have her in all honesty, never outside of a deal, and she’ll never be worth anything less, not to him, not now.
Prompt: Belle finds out about Rum’s history with Cora and has angry sex with him, claiming him.
“You never told me about her,” Belle murmurs against his neck, and he arches beneath her, asking himself how he’s been caught like this, so naked and vulnerable. “Not a word.”
Rumplestiltskin swallows beneath Belle’s lips, hands fisting the silken maroon sheets of the bed they share in their Storybrooke home.
“You were cursed,” he tries faintly, and Belle nips at his neck with those straight, white teeth of hers, always so pretty but now he knows how sharp.
“Not before,” she says under her breath, her voice husky as she sucks at his shoulder and makes him take a sharp breath. “Not after. Not now.”
Were Belle anyone else - were Belle anything less to him - he might question why it’s any of her business, why it matters to her about any women that have preceded her, but he knows why she’s upset, why Regina’s barb today about his whirlwind affair with Cora had struck Belle so deeply.
Because she hadn’t known, at all, while he knows her most tender secrets, her most private thoughts, and all because she trusts him enough to share those things. Cora may lie only his past, but she still looms there, trying to cast her shadow, and Belle should know about her, about him. It’s only right.
“I love you,” he manages to say between her fierce kisses and unflinching strokes along the flesh of his inner thigh, teasing ever higher. “I do, Belle. I’ve never…never felt anything like this, with you, before, and I…”
Rumplestiltskin reaches the crux of his defence, and the only part of it really.
“She made me feel small when I was, ah…so powerful, Belle.” He pants, from her string of heated kisses and her halting mouth. “I never…never wanted you to know that once I thought she..she was… I was so pathetic as to think…”
He lets his head fall into the pillows, unable to voice his shame, to tell Belle that he had once confused lust and dark desire with something of true meaning, of at least a fraction of what Belle is to him. He’d never known true love, nor, perhaps, faithful love beyond that of Baelfire’s, and that he’d confused her with Cora, no matter how long ago, feels like it diminishes Belle herself. She is so much more, so much greater.
Rumplestiltskin’s sudden, startled cry catches in his throat, a rattle of breath all that leaves him as Belle sinks her tight lush flesh over his aching cock. She gives him a taste of relief that he doesn’t deserve, that he certainly hasn’t shed his blood for, as he should.
But Belle says nothing, only kisses his mouth with those rose lips of hers and rides him to kingdom fucking come, until all he can do is let her lead him where she will.
She digs her nails into the backs of his hands, their fingers locked, and she whimpers, her dark locks curtaining their faces as she leans down, her damp breath hot against his stubble-rough cheek.
And when she kisses him again, when they’re both spent and shaking, their bodies awash with a chill that has nothing to do with the open window of their darkened bedroom, her mouth is still made of fire, consuming him to his last, keeping him for her own.
As if he wasn’t already.
I really love all your fics but I was wondering if you're planning to continue Paradise Stars anytime soon?
Thank you!
I got caught up in RL and prompt-a-thons for a while there, so I wasn’t really able to concentrate on PS, but I’m currently finishing up the next chapter and posting it very soon (:
