#anyelle fanfiction
Text
Covetous | Chapter 4
Rating: E (I changed it for the whole fic, it is not specific to this chapter)
Pairing: Macelle (Father MacAvoy x Belle) or Nostelle (Nosty x Belle), who is to say which
Summary: Father Joseph MacAvoy wakes up in a library across town with no idea of how he got there. When the kind librarian doesn’t kick him out immediately, he considers that maybe there’s more to life than alcohol.
[chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3]
tws: alcoholism, homelessness. If I missed a warning, I’m so sorry–please let me know and I will add it ASAP!
------------------
Belle parked as close to her building as she could, hardly seeing the curb as she searched for Nosty. She’d given him her address and he promised to meet her here after she dropped off Joseph. A small part of her thought he’d bail again, but too big a part of her had hope.
He wasn’t outside, but then, she didn’t actually know how fast he could walk. Maybe he hadn’t made it yet.
She climbed the stairs to her second floor flat, watching out the window even though that wouldn’t help. If Nosty was going to show up, he would make his presence known when he was ready. He wouldn’t just wait for her to find him.
As she unlocked the door, she half expected him to jump out and surprise her from inside, but her flat was as empty as it had been when she’d left that morning. Deciding to have hope, she locked it behind her—it would have been in character for Nosty to sneak in if it was unlocked—and shed all of her work clothes on her way to the bathroom.
She touched up her hair and lipstick, then added another layer of mascara before looking for an outfit. She wanted to wear something more special than she wore to work, but she was prone to wearing all her nice clothes to the library since she had nowhere else to dress up. All of her coworkers wore jeans most days, leaving Belle as the only one in heels and skirts.
Someone knocked while Belle was still standing in her underwear in front of her closet, and she felt like she could float out the window. Was he here? Was it really him?
Making a quick decision, she grabbed a dress with no zipper and yanked it over her head as she jogged to the door, careful of her makeup and hair.
“Coming!” Along the way, she picked up her discarded clothes and shoved them into her dad’s room—the spare room, now.
Standing in front of the door, she smoothed out her dress and swallowed. If it really was Nosty on the other side, this was about to change their relationship forever. It was almost a bigger step than the first time they’d kissed.
If it wasn’t Nosty, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t cry.
She straightened her back and took a deep breath before opening the door. The hall was empty, but she had no time to process this because then Nosty was there, real and true and solid, lips tilted up in his affectionate sneer.
“You are here!” She opened the door wide and he sauntered in, taking in the room.
“In the fucking flesh.” His gaze lingered on the window, and she wondered if he was calculating his exit options. “I was eavesdropping on your neighbors. Fucking nutters.”
She couldn’t stop her giddy grin. He was here, in her apartment, and he hadn’t been trying to hide from her—he’d just been drawn in to her neighbors’ loud conversations.
“If you’re here long enough, you’ll probably hear them having sex,” she said.
He finally turned back to her, raising both eyebrows. “What’ve you got, some fucking perv hole to listen?”
“Our bedroom walls adjoin.”
He wiggled his eyebrows, and then slung an arm around her shoulders. “All right, give us a tour then. Can’t believe it took you this long.”
“My sincerest apologies.” She ducked out from under his arm so she could take his hand, surprised when he followed her to the kitchen with no protest. She showed him the fridge and where the cups were, hoping he’d feel free to eat and drink as he pleased, and then he let her tote him back out to the living room.
Before her father died, this flat had been his. She’d lived in a studio to save up money after grad school, but once he got sick, she moved back into her childhood bedroom, and then when he passed, inherited the whole thing. When he’d owned it, the only real decorations were family photos—mostly of Belle in various life stages. Now, she had taken down most photos of herself except the ones her dad had loved the most, and the walls had blank gaps waiting to be filled with art. She’d added rugs to the living room, a bookshelf that covered most of the wall, and replaced the old threadbare furniture with a plush red couch and reading chair.
Nosty let go of her hand and sidled over to the bookshelf. At one point, it had been organized by genre, but she couldn’t just reorganize the whole shelf every time she added something, and with no family or friends, most of her disposable income went toward new books, so it was haphazard. Some places even had books in a stack instead of shelved neatly.
“Who’d have fucking thought.” Nosty chuckled, running his finger over the spine of a fantasy novel.
“What?” She chewed her lip. She’d been called all manner of things for living in books her whole life, even by her own loving dad, and while nothing bothered her anymore, she wasn’t sure she could take any cutting words from Nosty.
“Me on a fucking date with a nerd.”
She had to laugh because Nosty was still touching the spines of books like he couldn’t quite believe how many there were, and because now, after months, she recognized the tint of affection to his voice.
“Don’t you want to see the rest?” she asked.
“I’m self-guiding it now.” He left the bookshelf, wandering over to a cluster of graduation photos. Some were the professional headshots taken by the school, and some were pictures of her and her dad or her and her grandparents.
He zeroed in on one from her undergrad graduation where she stood between her two roomates, all three of their arms around one another. It was the only photo with anyone in it who wasn’t family.
“Who’s this?” he asked.
“My old college roommates,” she said. “I haven’t talked to either of them in years.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. She didn’t really know why she kept the picture up, except that it reminded her that she had once had friends, people to spend time with outside of work.
“We lost touch.”
He took her hand then but kept his eyes on the photo wall as they meandered toward one of the blank spaces she’d left.
“What was here?”
“Nothing. My dad had way more photos up, so I took some down thinking I’d hang art or something.”
He touched the blank space, then moved on, brushing his hands over one of her throw pillows as they passed her reading chair.
When they reached the hall that led to the two bedrooms, he stopped, and she thought he would say something, but he just looked between the rooms, then pulled her toward hers.
“Another bookshelf?” He dropped her hand, heading for the small shelf she kept by the bed as a nightstand. It contained books she was currently reading, books she planned to read soon, and some of her favorites.
“I thought it looked nice,” she said, and as Nosty rushed past her bed without a glance, she had the sudden realization that not only had Nosty actually come to her home, he was now in her bedroom.
Maybe he realized it at the same time she did, or maybe this had been his plan all along, because he spun and sauntered toward her. She’d never been barefoot with him before, and he dwarfed her this time when he pulled her to him by the hips.
“So, how long do we stay here before we hear anything interesting?” He jerked his head toward the wall she shared with her neighbor.
Her arms rested on his chest as they always did, and she was about to answer when she realized it wasn’t as soft as it usually was, and something poked her in the wrist. She moved her hands back and found buttons. Buttons.
“What’s this?” She traced a finger down the crisp white seam, marveling that it had taken so long to notice.
“What’d you think took me so long to get here?”
Something caught in her throat. She traced the buttons, blinking and blinking and blinking because, if she didn’t, she was going to cry, and she didn’t want Nosty to think he’d done anything wrong.
“Belle?”
She slid her hands up his chest to trace the lapels and the bit of Nosty’s chest exposed by the open collar.
“You dressed up for me.”
“What, was I supposed to wear some manky old tshirt on our first date?”
He’d probably stolen it—that was probably what had taken so long—but she found she didn’t much care. The system had failed Nosty so much that he lived on the streets. She didn’t begrudge him a shirt, especially since he’d stolen it because he was taking their date seriously. Their first date.
“You look good.”
“Yeah?” His fingers trailed up her side and then her neck until he could lift her chin. “How good?”
His wolfish grin told her exactly what he wanted, so she kissed his collar bone, then stood on her toes to kiss his lips. He cupped her cheek, holding her close, but then she leaned away.
“Oi, that’s it?” he asked. “One little kiss? I’m wearing a fucking collar.”
“Aren’t we supposed to be going on a date?” She couldn’t stop smiling, and even Nosty’s grin didn’t wane.
“What, this isn’t good enough for you, hey?”
“I thought we were going to the cinema.”
He groaned dramatically, letting go of her waist so he could take her hand again and lead her out of the bedroom. “Fine, let’s go.”
“Any requests?” she asked, tugging on his arm so he’d pause for her to get shoes.
He considered for a moment, eyeing her closet with interest while she pulled a pair of sandals out. “Nothing violent,” he finally said.
There was not a lot about Nosty that could have truly shocked her, but his admitting that he didn’t want to see violence did it. She ducked to hide her smile while she slipped her shoes on.
“That’s perfect,” she said. “I don’t like violence either.”
Before he could make another move, she stood on her toes again and grabbed his face, kissing him like she’d spent all day waiting to be kissed. Then, just as he was responding by gripping her hips, she pulled away.
“What was that for?” he asked, sounding, for the first time, a little breathless.
“I just really like you,” she said. “That’s all.”
His eyes jerked back and forth across hers, like he was quickly reading a disclaimer, but then he settled. “Lucky me.”
****
Nosty didn’t hold her hand on the eight blocks to the theater, and he walked like he was afraid someone might steal the sidewalk from him. This was probably the closest to seeing him in his natural habitat that Belle would ever get, so she didn’t complain, just kept up while she told him all about a school visit she was planning for next week. She might have worried she was boring him, but they spent much of their time talking about the library and Belle’s life, and he always had insightful questions. Sometimes Nosty told stories, but she could tell he altered them, made them more palatable to a sheltered woman like her.
When they arrived, he eyed the growing Friday night crowd.
“Need a smoke.” He pulled a cigarette out of the inside pocket of his jacket and a lighter from his kilt.
“I’ll go get the tickets?” she offered.
He nodded, still scanning the sidewalk as he lit up. She squeezed his forearm before heading to the box office, trying not to stare at him as she walked away. He was just smoking. He wasn’t going to bring her all the way here only to abandon her while she was buying tickets.
Since they didn’t have a plan, she chose the movie that would be starting soonest, which happened to be a romantic comedy. It was better than the slasher film starting around the same time.
Nosty was still waiting for her, cigarette finished, looking no less antsy.
“Popcorn?” She handed him his ticket and it vanished between his fingers like a magic trick.
“Aye, if you want.”
She couldn’t help feeling guilty that brash, cocksure Nosty felt so out of place somewhere as basic as the cinema, but that made it even nicer that he’d come at all. He’d changed his shirt, calmed himself down, and now he was standing in line with her to get popcorn and sodas.
The moment they sat down in the dark theater, she felt him relax. Even so close to the showing, she’d managed to get an aisle seat near the back, so Nosty had the open air on one side and Belle on the other.
He popped the foot rest out. “Jesus fuck.”
“What?” she asked, following suit.
“Last time I went to the cinema, it was all fucking folding chairs compared to this.” He reached across the arms and tapped her on the belly. “I was gonna be romantic and put me fuckin’ arm around you, but I guess this is all you get.” He pinched her this time and she laughed, scooting out of his reach when he wouldn’t let up.
“You can romantically put your arm around me later,” she said. “How’s that?”
“Might need convincing later,” he said. “Now that I know you took me to the cinema so we could sit a meter apart and take a fucking nap.”
“We can still hold hands.” She offered hers to him, palm up. “And then later, we can sit at a romantic corner table in a candlelit restaurant and talk with our heads close together.”
“Not the same,” he said, but he took her hand anyway.
****
MacAvoy thought he was going to take a few sips of the vodka and pass out immediately, but he hadn’t counted on his body being used to pushing itself until he was more alcohol than human. He laid in bed fully-clothed, wishing he had something more than this to drink.
His monthly stipend wouldn’t be coming until next week, and he didn’t have much money left to live on. A smart man would take the money and buy cheap, shelf-stable foods to eat. MacAvoy considered, as he lay in bed trying not to wonder if Belle would be frightened of Nosty’s monstrous cock, that he could be a smart man. If he knew what a smart man might do, he had the capacity to be one.
In fact, he was counting on being smart enough to remember that Belle didn’t work tomorrow.
So he dragged himself out of bed and found one of his stashed-away tenners. He ignored the glares he received at the grocery as he added tinned beans, bread, and eggs to his cart. He could have added a few more things, but if he used money he actually had on alcohol, he’d be less likely to get kicked into a gutter, so he bought the cheapest handle of gin they had.
Impressed with himself, he lurched his way home and put everything away, then flopped back on the bed and gulped more vodka.
“Belle, I hope you’re okay,” he wheezed into the empty room. He still had her phone number in his pocket, and he caressed it with shaking fingers.
She’d said not to call tonight, but what if his deviant fantasies weren’t images sent from Satan but visions sent from God? Visions that, were he to ignore them, foretold Belle’s horrible fate?
He only needed one more sip of vodka to convince himself of this, to imagine Nosty with fangs and claws capable of ripping out Belle’s poor, devoted heart.
When he called, though, it went straight to voicemail. He didn’t leave a message; he just shrugged out of his shirt and closed his eyes.
****
It wasn’t the best movie Belle had ever seen, but she and Nosty both laughed, holding hands through most of it. They sat in the theater through the credits until it was mostly empty, then Nosty stood and offered his hand.
“So, was it everything you hoped?” he asked while he helped her up.
“It wasn’t bad.” She picked up his trash, stuffing his empty popcorn sleeve into hers and then adding the empty soda cups.
“I mean our date, hey?” He wiggled his eyebrows, but there wasn’t the same swagger in it as usual. He wasn’t just talking.
“Is it over?” she asked. “I don’t want it to be.”
With his free thumb, he reached up and wiped something underneath her eye—probably some rogue mascara from when she’d teared up near the end.
“What’s next then?” he asked. “I’m no fucking romantic, so you’ll have to lead this one.”
Privately, she felt that he was wrong, he was a fucking romantic, but she didn’t say anything. “I’m hungry. Do you want to go out or eat in?”
He started down the steps to the exit, still holding her hand but no longer looking at her. “There’s no restaurant dark enough to keep people from seeing us together.”
“So?” Was he embarrassed of her? He probably thought she was embarrassed of him since she always insisted on secrecy in the library—but that was her job. She could be fired if she was caught making out on the clock.
“So, I’ve got bad table manners.” He let go of her to skip down the rest of the way, whirling at the bottom of the steps to watch her descend with his arms folded. When she reached the final step, he grabbed her hips, putting them at eye level.
“No you don’t,” she said. “We’ve eaten together loads of times.”
“You keep forgetting, sweetheart.” He kissed her on the throat. “I’m an animal. The monster you invited over your threshold?”
“Maybe I like monsters,” she said. “Maybe I don’t believe that monsters are exactly what they seem.”
He kissed up her neck until he could tug on her earlobe with his teeth, and as her knees buckled, she was keenly aware that not everyone had left the theater.
“Fine, love,” he hissed into her ear, and she thought she might faint. “Let’s go.”
Dinner was a quick affair. Without reservations, there was no way to get into a romantic, candlelit restaurant, so they went to a little burger joint, and Nosty relaxed a fraction.
Belle leaned toward him. “Are you afraid of me?” She popped a chip in her mouth, raising her eyebrows.
“Wee fucking bird like you?” He took a gulp of his beer. “Fat chance.”
“Why are you so skittish tonight?”
“Not fucking skittish,” he said. “Just alert, hey? Don’t want you to get fucking snatched or summat.”
“Don’t trust me to defend myself?” She jabbed a chip toward him like a sword, and he swiped it from her and ate it with a teeth-baring grin.
“I’m sure you’re a fierce bint when its called for,” he said. “But a fucker what sees me’s not gonna try anything with you.”
She watched him with narrowed eyes, then took a bite of her burger. “I don’t think that’s the whole story.”
“Yeah?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Tough shite, that’s the best you’re getting out of me.”
“I think that you’re nervous because you think I won’t like you out here in the real world,” she said. “That’s why you were jealous of Joseph. Because you think if I had any other option, I wouldn’t pick you.”
“S’a fine fucking tale.” He drained his pint. “You spin it all by yourself?”
She plucked a chip off his plate to make up for the one he’d taken of hers, feeling as on top of the world as she’d felt all night.
“It’s not true, you know,” she said. “I could have hundreds of options, and I’d still pick you.”
He watched her from his leaned-back chair, over his crossed arms, down his nose through narrowed eyes. “You don’t know that.”
“I do know that,” she said. “I knew it as soon as you kissed me the first time.”
He turned his head, watching the restaurant, and then glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
“Hurry up and finish.” He picked up the bit of burger he had left and gestured for her to do the same.
“What’s the rush?” she asked, even though she obeyed.
He plunked his chair back down, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m tired of not being alone with you.”
****
The closer they walked to Belle’s flat, the more Nosty touched her. He started with one arm slung across her shoulders, and by the time she was unlocking the front door, he had one hand across her stomach, one in her hair, and he pressed open-mouthed, toothy kisses to her neck while he held her against him.
Somehow, despite this, she got the first door open, and then climbed the stairs without losing any contact with his hands, and as she fumbled with her own key, he closed his teeth around her pulse and she whimpered.
“You’re mine tonight,” he growled, and she didn’t even know if she’d be able to unlock the door, but then his hand was on hers and he was taking the key from her. She blushed at how helpless she became whenever he focused his full attention on her.
“Nosty,” she said as he finally got the door open and they stumbled in. “I don’t think we should—tonight.”
“That’s okay, sweetheart.” He shut the door behind him and pressed the key into her hand before sliding his other hand more possessively around her waist. “Some days, I don’t even fucking know where I’ve been.”
She didn’t have much time to be relieved that he understood because her brain and body wanted to focus more on the rough sound of his voice in her ear. “We’ll get tested together,” she managed.
“Whatever you want.” He nudged her forward, toward the couch, and then at the last second, sat himself and pulled her on top of him.
He shifted to hold her across his lap, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Will you stay tonight?” she asked.
“I’ll do whatever you want, Belle,” he said, and she thought he might have meant it. “You want me to fucking strip naked and sleep at your feet? Fine.” He kissed the apple of her cheek, then her earlobe, lowering his voice to his quiet growl. “You want to lie back and spread your legs so I can eat your cunt ‘til dawn?” He licked her ear and she thought she might die. “Just say the fucking word.”
“I want you to hold me.” She brushed her thumb down his jaw. “Just hold me.”
He cradled her head in one hand and brought the other to her cheek, brushing his thumb across her lower lip.
“Nothing else?”
She shook her head. “I feel safe when you hold me.”
He kissed her lips, then down her neck, and she thought he might bite her again, mark her as taken for anyone to see, but he just kissed his way back up to her ear.
“Safe from everyone but me.” He tightened his arms around her and she hoped he never let go.
[chapter 5]
#anyelle#anyelle fic#macelle#nostelle#macelle fic#nostelle fic#new update#covetous#anyelle fanfic#anyelle fanfiction
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
1000 word Prompts!
This is my attempt to get back into the Rumbelle Fanfic writing world.
It’s late, my neighbours are keeping me up and I’ve got the need to write! Send me your prompts and I’ll write a 1000 word fic for it! Anyelle! (I’ve got a need for Rushbelle but I’ll write for any)
#anyelle#rumbelle#rushbelle#bellish#Belle French#Rumplestiltskin#Nicholas Rush#Hamish McBeth#Rumbelle fanfiction#Rushbelle fanfiction#Anyelle fanfiction#Once upon a Time#Stargate Universe#AU#Cannon#OUAT
1 note
·
View note
Text
30 Days of Fanfiction - Day 2
Name the fandoms you've written in, and how much you've written in that fandom, and if you still write in it. (Or as many of them as you want to write about if you have many fandoms.)
Here are the fandoms I’ve written (and still write)
Rumbelle/OUAT (Including anyelle and anyem) - 67
The Mummy Franchise - 5
UC:Undercover - 4
Sleeper Cell - 2
Star Trek: Discovery - 2
Stargate: Atlantis - 22
Stargate: Universe - 7
Tolkien - 4
Halt and Catch Fire - 2
Foundation 1
Hellcheer -1
Of those numbers above, I currently have 37 WIPs across those fandoms! Feel free to ask questions.
#30 days of fanfic#rumbelle#The Mummy series#uc: undercover#sleeper cell#sga#Stargate: Atlantis#SGU#Stargate Universe#Star trek : discovery#tolkien#Foundation (tv)#hellcheer#ask me questions
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Eighth Rumbelle Anniversary
Eight years ago today I started posting my first Rumbelle fic. And now, after a whole bunch of fics spanning five RC/EdR pairings, I’m not done yet. So, anyone feel like prompting me for my anniversary? Go ahead and lay it on me- Rumbelle, Anyelle, Anyem, sequels, prequels, remixes, AUs, random word prompts, my ask box is wiiiide open!
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
4, 9 14 please for fanfiction Writer questions.
4. Are there any writers that inspire you?
@bad-faery is definitely a big one. Their Beast!Rush series definitely inspired my Donelle fic, Finding a Cure. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the fact that nobody has written a Beast Mode sex scene with Don Harris is a crime.
The way they deal with Joseph’s alcoholism in their Macelle fics also inspired me to write Breaking Cycles. Lachlan is decidedly more fucked up than Joseph is, but plunging into his trauma is definitely a lot of fun. My next California Solo project will be taking inspiration from another one of Bad-Faery’s fics.
9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?
I did answer this in another ask, but I will say that writing Infected!Don is another very big challenge. He’s another character who we really don’t get to see the best of. I’ve seen people criticize him for running away instead of saving his wife, but those people ignore the fact that just minutes earlier, he was doing his best to hold the Infected off. It was only when he was disarmed and outnumbered, and his wife was cornered, that he ran. Even when his friend fell out of the boat and into the infested waters, Don still tried to pull him out. He’s not a coward. But weeks of living in a zombie-infested hellscape would test the limits of anyone’s courage.
So yeah, writing Infected!Don is interesting because he’s got this rage virus in him, which is messing with how he thinks, but I also need to put his true self in there, when we don’t get a great look at who he is. He clearly loves his kids. He’s traumatized by his wife’s death, which is why hearing his name gives him flashbacks to when he abandoned her and “wakes him up” for a bit. He’s protective of those he loves, but when his reserves of courage dry up, he will take the easy way out (running, lying to his kids). There’s a lot to work in, but precious little material to reference.
14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for?
I know the answer should be Rumbelle, but really it’s Anyelle. I love taking these poor sad Bobby characters and giving them a Belle. Especially if said sad Bobby character has a kid or two, because I have accepted Stepmom Belle into my heart as my lord and savior.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Unfinished Business
Unfinished Business T When Rumpelstiltskin defeated Pan, he wasn't resurrected from the dead by Belle and Neal. Belle discovered she was pregnant after his passing, and she has a daughter named Lucy. The events of Zelena play out in a similar fashion, and Belle and the others wind up in the Underworld to try and bring Neal back. Belle runs into her former lover while she's there, and she discovers his unfinished business is encouraging her to move on and learn to love again. Belle helps Rumpelstiltskin cross over, and they all return to Storybrooke. Belle decides it's in her best interest to travel and make a new start. She settles down in a quaint Oregon town where she meets the demure widower, Frank Keane, who resembles her former true love. Will Belle be able to unravel this mystery and open her heart to new love in the process? Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7895656/chapters/24446091
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fanfic meme
I was tagged by @luthienebonyx!
At what age did you start writing fanfiction? -- I think around 18, 19? Just little scenes scribbled down in journals for myself, mostly based off soap operas back then. Except for a very few exceptions over the years, though, it wasn’t until I joined tumblr and got into Rumbelle that I really began writing fic more to share with others rather just for myself, stuff that had to have a proper beginning and an end.
Who is your favorite author? -- Impossible to pick one! Just off the top of my head, I’m going to give a shout-out to some of my new faves I’ve discovered since getting into the Thor movies last year: @callistonicol, @eienvine, @gaslightgallows, @jaggedcliffs, @lizardbeths, @psychoticgirl, and @veliseraptor. (And anyone else I’ve ever left a comment on a fic for, I love and appreciate you!)
Favorite type of scene to write? -- Fluffy fix-its!
What is your favorite fanfic? -- Look, there’s a reason I have...*counts*... nine rec lists just related to OUAT/SGU/Anyelle. How am I supposed to pick just one? But I agree that for OUAT, Nym’s A Bed of Thorns really is in a class by itself. I wish I had a whole rec list of Thor fics to link here (I actually started one early this year but then The Very Rainy Spring of near constant sinus pain and pressure hit and put it on hold) because I very quickly found a ton of great fic, but I will confine myself to a couple of more Epic Fics of the sort where you forget the world outside exists -- The Kingsverse series by @teslatricity and Yggdrasil Dreaming by Barkour.
What tags do you avoid like the plague? -- Mpreg, anything horror related (gore, zombies, vampires, etc.), genderbent characters
What AU do you wish to write but feel like you won’t manage? -- I always thought the book/TV miniseries The Children of the Stones would have worked really well for a Rumbelle/OUAT AU, but I can’t do long and plotty stuff. And I doubt I could have captured the wonderful eerie atmosphere of the story.
Do you outline or write as you go? -- Write as I go. Mostly I write short stuff, so an outline isn’t needed; the few longer things I’ve written just developed that way as I wrote, they weren’t planned.
What has been your favorite story to write so far? -- *Cries* You’re asking me to choose between my children, this is hard! Okay, I’m going to pick a few for different reasons. My Rushbelle smut Consequences was the result of @ripperblackstaff coming into my inbox and challenging me to write it based on a comment I’d added to a post, and I feel proud of rising to the challenge because it was definitely the kinkiest thing I’d posted at that point and there was that ‘I can’t post this!’ embarrassment to get over. And Hello, Deerie was fun because it was just total Christmas fluff and again, based off a comment I made (on some art, this time) and the artist said ‘Write it’, so I did. I’m also really proud of my Rush/Young smut Not What It Appears, because I don’t ship them at all but I wanted to write it for someone’s 50th birthday, and I think I did a really good job with it. (Obviously I find an extra layer of satisfaction in writing fics for people I like!) Um, maybe one more? The Storybrooke Ice Bucket Challenge was a rare example of a fic that came very easily and very quickly. It was such a fun time in fandom, with my dash and the tags being full of celebrities Getting Wet for charity, and it was just such a natural idea for a show that was set (partly, at least) in the modern, real world.
Do you prefer to write one-shots or multi-chapters? Why? -- One-shots! Mostly I like to write missing and extended scenes, my brain doesn’t really do plots.
What is your favorite kind of comment? -- When the reader mentions something specific that they liked
Why did you start writing fanfiction? Why are you still writing it? -- A need to fill in the gaps in canon. Fixing angst. Wanting to ship a couple and give them smut and happy endings. <g> And I’m still writing it for all of the same reasons.
Tagging anyone I mentioned above, plus @aninfinitenumberofmonkeys and @eyeus-writes.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Rumbelle Happy Ending Awards!
The Once Upon a Time series finale is coming and with that, some people will surely leave the fandom, so as our last chance of gathering everybody for an event we are creating The Rumbelle Happy Ending Awards as a way to celebrate this incredible couple and all the people who worked creating fanfictions and all kinds of art for them along these seven years. TEA has been recently reformed HERE and using it as inspiration we are here starting another event to show our authors and artists how much we love them!
The nominations will be happening between May 14 and May 31, with the voting period starting a week after it. So please, reblog this post to share it with the whole fandom. Let’s make this event as big as TEA is. One last time.
For the Rumbelle authors and artists out there: make a “for your consideration” list. It will help divulge the event and it will also help people to know what to vote for.
Good luck everybody! Under the cut you’ll find the rules and the categories for this event.
RULES:
1. ALL categories will have five nominees. The five people with most votes.
2. TEA Winners are NOT eligible.
3. Yes, you can nominee yourself.
4. Yes, you can vote for yourself.
5. Anonymously voting and nomining are not allowed.
6. You can only vote once.
7. The votes must be submitted.
CATEGORIES
Fluff
Best Fix-It
Best Comfort
Best Date
Best Laugh
Best Happy Moment
Angst
Best Exes
Best Misunderstanding
Best Post-Belle’s Death
Best Love and Hate
Best Reencounter
AO3 Trigger Warnings
Best Underage
Best Rape/Non-Con
Best Major Character Death
Best Graphic Descriptions of Violence
Family
Best Gideon
Best Baelfire
Best Belle/Rumple original child
Best Family Long Fic
Best Family One Shot
Best Pregnancy
Smut
Best First Time
Best PWP
Best Threesome
Best Romance
Best Hate-Sex
Best Kink
AU
Best Movie AU
Best TV Show AU
Best Modern AU
Best Curse AU
Best Creature AU
Best Historical AU
Best of the Best
Best Drama
Best Romance
Best Angst
Best Hurt/Comfort
Best Series
Best Roleplay
Art
Best Sketch
Best Manip
Best Digital Art
Best Gif-Set
Best Graphic Art
Best Cosplay
Best Fan Video
Best Artist
Special Matching
Best RushBelle
Best WovenLace
Best Rushacey
Best WovenBelle
Best GoldenLace
Best Side-Paring
Best Swanfire
Best Snowing
Best CuriousArcher
Best SwanQueen
Best Gidrick
Best OutlawQueen
Golden Categories
Best Author
Best Rumbelle Fic
Best Anyelle Fic
Best Commenter
102 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Rumbelle Glossary--add on, please!
@standbyyourmantis did a great job composing this--I have added a few S7-specific terms. Are there any other new terms that you think would confuse rookies?
~~~~~~~~
1x12: Season One, Episode 12. ie. Skin Deep, the first episode in which Belle appears.
A&E: Reference to Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, the creators and producers. See: Kitsowitz, Adam & Eddy.
Adam & Eddy: Reference to Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, the creators and producers. See: A&E, Kitsowitz.
Anyelle: Basically, a ship that is Robert Carlyle in another role and Belle. There is a more in-depth definition and a full list of Anyelle ships as well as a links to fic about them provided here.
Anyem: A ship where any Robert Carlyle character is paired with any Emilie de Ravin character. Popular Anyem parings include Hiero & Ives and Rushacey (Rush and Lacey).
Beauties: Fans of Belle.
Dearies: Fans of Rumple.
Detective Weaver: Rumple’s S7 cursed persona.
DO: Dark One--usually Rumplestiltskin, usually set in the Enchanted Forest, but could also refer to other bearers of the Dark One Curse.
Dove: The bodyguard/hired muscle Rumplestiltskin-as-Mr. Gold has repossess Moe French’s van in Skin Deep. In fandom, a common assistant to Mr. Gold.
February 12: The original air date of Skin Deep, considered a most sacred and holy day to Rumbellers, celebrated by the Fluffapalooza festival.
Floof Family: Belle, Rumplestiltskin, and Bae/Neal. Named for their shared floofy hair.
Fluff Family: Belle, Rumplestiltskin, and Gideon. So-called for the short hair.
FTL: Shorthand for Fairy Tale Land, a fan-given name for the Enchanted Forest.
FTL2: The second Fairy Tale Land, home of Cinderella Tremaine 2 and her family.
Golden Beauty: The specific pairing of Mr. Gold and Belle. See also: Golden Lace.
Golden Lace: The specific pairing of Mr. Gold and Belle’s alter ego, Lacey. See also: Rumpled Lace, Woven Lace.
Goldstiltskin: Rumplestiltskin in Neverland. Specifically, wearing black leather and the painted face.
Her Handsome Hero, H3: The title of Belle’s favorite book, and also of the season 5 Belle centric ep.
Jane Espenson, JE: The writer of Skin Deep and founder of Rumbelle.
Kitsowitz: Reference to Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, the creators and producers. See: A&E, Adam & Eddy.
A Monthly Rumbelling: A Rumbelle prompt event taking place, well, monthly, and offering both smut and nonsmut prompts.
NTIC: Nick the Incorporeal Creeper. A specific fandom version of Nicholas Rush from a fic by user badfaerie. He helps various AU Anyelle Bobbys find true love.
Papafire: The parental relationship between Rumplestiltskin and his son Baelfire.
TMI Tuesday: A chance for fic authors and RPers to answer fan questions, sometimes in-character.
RCIJ: Rumbelle Christmas in July. A version of Rumbelle Secret Santa running over the summer.
RSS: Rumbelle Secret Santa. A gift exchange running over Christmas where volunteers create gifts for each other based on a short prompt by the giftee. See: RCIJ.
Rumbelle Showdown: A yearly fic writing contest where fic writers write short stories under pseudonyms in a head-to-head tournament style competition.
Rumblr: The Rumbelle fandom on Tumblr.
Rumpled Lace: The specific pairing of Rumplestiltskin and Lacey.See also: Golden Lace, Woven Lace.
Sir Rumple: Rumplestiltskin as the knight from the season 4 finale AU.
Skin Deep: The first episode wherein Belle appears, the basis of the entire Rumbelle ship.
Spinner Rumple: Rumplestiltskin as the spinner character from before taking on the curse. Usually, appears in alternate universes wherein Milah has left but Rumplestiltskin never takes on the curse.
Storybrooke AU: Nonmagical alternate universe set in Storybrooke, usually set outside of the show’s canon.
TEA: The Espenson Awards. A yearly award show for fanfiction and other creators. Named for Jane Espenson, writer of Skin Deep.
The Thing: The official Rumbelle welcome wagon post. Introduce yourself and ask @thestraggletag for it.
The War/The Rumbelle War: Several years ago, a group of fiction writers decided to try to kill each other with feels. We call this dark time The Rumbelle War or The War. It’s best not to speak of it.
Woobie: Usually used in the context of Woobie!Rumple. Defined by TVTropes as:
A “woobie” is a name for any type of character who makes you feel extremely sorry for them. Basically, the first thing you think to say when you see the woobie is: “Aw, poor baby!”
Woven Lace: The specific pairing of Detective Weaver and Lacey in S7 AUs.
115 notes
·
View notes
Note
Santa again! I am with you on the current state of Ouat for sure - a waste of time when the realm of fanfiction is so much better. ;) And on that note - how would you like your gift? Rumbelle flavored or Anyelle (and if so, what Anyelles do you like)? I've got a few ideas I've been toying around with for both, just let me know your preference.
Hello, dear Santa!
My favorite Anyelle ships are the two that get the least fanfic love: Bellish and Gazelle. And of course original flavor Rumbelle is always welcome - Enchanted Forest, Storybrooke, non-magical AUs, I love them all!
I’m sure I’ll love whatever you come up with.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Covetous | Chapter 6
Rating: E
Pairing: Macelle (Father MacAvoy x Belle) or Nostelle (Nosty x Belle), who is to say which
Summary: Father Joseph MacAvoy wakes up in a library across town with no idea of how he got there. When the kind librarian doesn’t kick him out immediately, he considers that maybe there’s more to life than alcohol.
[chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4] [chapter 5]
tws: alcoholism, homelessness. If I missed a warning, I’m so sorry–please let me know and I will add it ASAP!
--------------
At first, Belle wasn’t sure what had awakened her. Then, Nosty clenched his fist by her abdomen, squeezing her to him like a lifeline, and keened softly in her ear.
“Nosty?” she whispered. Was he asleep?
He whimpered, clutching her tighter, and just as she was about to put her hand over his and try to soothe him awake, he screamed and flung himself off of her, landing next to the bed in a crouch.
“Nosty!” She wriggled, untangling herself from the blankets as he shouted nonsense at her in his quick brogue. Once free, she clambered to him and touched his arm.
Some of the fever was leaving his eyes already and he sucked in breaths like a drowning man. She stepped closer to him, resting her other hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “You’re safe. It was just a nightmare.”
He grabbed her hand, squeezing tight, and she could see when his eyes changed from seeing his demons to seeing her bedroom. He loosened his grip, looking down at her, and she rubbed his shoulder.
“It’s just me,” she said. “Belle. You’re in my flat.”
“Belle,” he repeated, then pressed into her. Surprised, she wrapped her arms around him, tucking him under her chin.
“Come on, let’s get back in bed.” She guided him backwards and he climbed in after her, curling into her like a child when she sat against the headboard.
“You’re okay?” he asked so quietly, she almost didn’t hear him.
“I’m okay.” What had he dreamt? He still shook, but the tremors calmed with every passing second as Belle rubbed his back.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Nothing to talk about.”
She kissed the top of his locks and he finally looked up at her. He ran his fingers along her cheek, her lip, her neck, then closed his eyes and tucked his head back under her chin.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked.
He nodded, hair tickling her, and when he did it again at her wheeze of laughter, she knew he was at least a little bit telling the truth.
“I haven’t had a nightmare in ages,” he said to her collar. “Never sleep well enough to bother.”
She tucked that statement away to process later. Her sleep-fogged brain couldn’t unpack the implications just then.
“I have nightmares sometimes,” she said. As she’d hoped, he perked up a little, tilting to look at her.
“Yeah? What about?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes I have dreams about being locked away forever or chased in a maze that I can’t get out of.”
“You ever been locked away?”
She shook her head and he lifted himself off of her, though not enough that he broke her grip on him.
“Good.” He kissed her on the jaw, then ducked out from her arms, coaxing her to lie down before following. She tucked them both back under the comforter, and Nosty spooned up behind her, wrapping her up in him this time.
They settled back in to sleep, but Belle couldn’t yet. “Have you?” she asked softly.
For a moment, she thought he might not answer, which was answer enough. But then, lips by her ear, he whispered, “‘Course. Don’t you know the biggest crime in London is having no address?”
She swallowed, tightening her grip on his arm around her. Did he dream about being locked up too? Is that why he fled, why he screamed? Or was it something far worse?
Uneasy, Belle didn’t drift off again until she felt Nosty’s breathing even out in sleep.
****
MacAvoy forced his overcooked egg down, wishing he had thought to add beans to it before it was almost done. Despite being basically sober in the morning, his egg-cooking skills were getting somehow worse. He blamed the devil.
At least there had been no more masturbatory incidents. He couldn’t stop the visions of Belle’s violation—Belle, naked, hair fanned out behind her, a halo of angelic light around her as she knelt down or lay splayed—but at least he didn’t sully her memory further.
And he wouldn’t, because today was Sunday. The Lord’s day. Even Satan wouldn’t fuck with him today. Besides, this meant that he only had to make it through one more bleak, miserable day before he could get on a bus and make his way to the library and Belle in the flesh.
He almost choked on his dry eggs, face suddenly on fire. Belle in the flesh. How would he look her in the eye now, after having visions of her from every angle, every facet, every position?
She would know. How could she not? Then again, he would be surprised if anyone attracted to women could come to the library and confidently say they’d never pictured Belle naked once.
Not that he had pictured her naked himself, but whether he or the devil was the real culprit, the fact was it was in his mind. He knew the visceral feel of her throaty, passioned screams.
He threw the last few bites of egg in the sink, then poured himself a glass of water and downed it. Today, he would be productive. He would find the best bus route to get to his library tomorrow.
The oven clock reminded him that he could be holding mass today. It would have started in fifteen minutes.
Crossing himself, he shuffled downstairs, unsteady on his feet. Maybe he wasn’t quite as sober as he thought.
He considered entering the sanctuary, sitting at the pulpit and at least reading a few passages from the bible even if no one was there for him to preach to, but he continued on his course to the abandoned office, where he knew existed a bus schedule somewhere.
When he couldn’t find it, he turned to the ancient computer. He certainly hadn’t paid the internet bill in God knew how long, so the machine was no more than an expensive paper weight. What he really needed was a library, but he didn’t feel up to walking anywhere.
Maybe—maybe he should call Belle? She’d told him to. Even though his visions told him she was still with Nosty, she had said herself that he should call any time.
It was barely ten though. It would be rude to call then.
With time to kill, he searched the office once more, but all he found was a membership directory, a few takeaway menus, and a five pound note that he pocketed to put in Belle’s collection jar tomorrow. It was the least he could do.
Noon would be a reasonable time to call. It wasn’t so early that she might still be sleeping, but early enough that she might not yet have started her day. Or she’d be right in the middle, but he couldn’t worry about that. She could be in the middle of something no matter what. She could be getting fucked at any point, and he’d just have to trust that she wouldn’t answer if she was.
He gripped the wall, lurching forward. When had he decided she was getting fucked instead of violated? Pinching the bridge of his nose, he crossed himself. It was still violating no matter what word his mind supplied.
The confessional welcomed him as it had yesterday, and now he had so much more to confess.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” He crossed himself again. “It’s been less than a day since my last confession and I’ve got some complaints.”
A little guilt creeped in at the idea of using the confessional as his therapy session, but everyone was meant to have their own personal relationship with God, and this was his. If the Lord wasn’t going to protect him against the devil, then he was going to have to get used to receiving a little lip now and then.
He confessed, drank, checked his phone clock, and Hailed Mary on repeat until noon, at which point he fumbled his phone so hard with excitement, he nearly shattered it.
Soon, it was ringing, and his cheeks and toes tingled pleasantly. It hadn’t even rung last time.
“Hello?”
He was so happy to hear her voice on the other end, a little formal but not the voice of a dying woman, he forgot to speak until she repeated it.
“Hi.”
“Who—Joseph?”
“Sorry, sorry, it’s me.” He dropped his forehead into his free hand. He was too drunk for this. He should have removed the vodka bottle from his confession ritual—but it was such a good way to make time move faster.
“What’s up?” She sounded a little preoccupied, but chipper nonetheless.
“Ah—” He had a reason for calling, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember.
“Joseph?”
“Bus schedule! I don’t know which bus to take tomorrow. Internet’s down here.”
“Oh, sorry to hear that.” He wondered that she hadn’t seen through that excuse—the internet had been down for months, at least. “I can’t look right now, but if you give me awhile, I’ll look it up and text you the best route?”
“Sure,” he said, heart sinking. She was too busy to talk and he couldn’t even look up his own bus schedule. Useless as a priest and as a friend.
“Okay, great. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
He licked his chapped lips. Was there anything he could say to keep her on the phone? Nothing that wasn’t a lie. “See you, Belle.”
She hung up, and he sank further into the booth, staring at the little machine that had so recently contained Belle’s voice. After another pathetic minute, he sighed and swigged his vodka.
****
Belle didn’t want to feel anxious about the oncoming Monday. She always saw Nosty at work; that wouldn’t change just because he’d come over. And even if it did, he could just come over again. This idyll wasn’t ending.
Joseph MacAvoy, however, was going to destroy it. She hung up the phone, hating that she could even think to blame him for the hard set of Nosty’s jaw, the way his shoulders moved like he was squaring up.
Well, let him. She could square up too.
“That was Father MacAvoy,” she said.
“Not Joseph?” he sneered.
She watched him, and the longer she did, she saw the way his jaw twitched, his eyes darted around, his hands fidgeted at his side. Instead of answering, she took his hand in both of hers and kissed his knuckles.
“Why are you jealous of a priest?” she asked.
He yanked his hand free to storm away, but all he did was make it to the end of the living room before pacing down the other side of the couch. “I’m not jealous.”
She folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong then?”
“I just think it’s fucking weird that you call a Father by his given name and he’s phoning you, that’s all.”
“So maybe he’s a bad priest. Are you from the diocese, then?”
She knew he meant the look he gave her to be scathing, but all she could do was laugh because she knew he would see his blustering as ridiculous if he thought about it for even a second.
“What’s he want with you? Why’s he need a bus schedule?”
“I don’t know, and because he’s coming to volunteer at the library tomorrow.” Volunteer might have been stretching the truth, but then, she was going to have to insist he volunteer anyway if he spent enough time there, so not much of a stretch.
“He wants you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “So? You have me.”
He stopped, all the way on the other side of the couch from her. Instead of closing the distance, he plopped down on his corner of the couch, throwing his arm over the back. She took this as an invitation and sat next to him.
“Don’t you think it’s weird?” he asked. “A priest? They commit all kinds of fucking depraved sex crimes.”
“He’s quite small, I think I can handle myself,” she said.
He narrowed his eyes at her, so she tapped him on the nose, and he finally snorted, relaxing into the couch. “He doesn’t like me.”
“Well, you made him eat hot sauce, so I don’t blame him.”
“Oi, that works sometimes. I wasn’t putting him on.”
She snuggled up to him, pleased when he wrapped both arms around her like she liked. She hoped Joseph didn’t try anything creepy with her—he would not survive Nosty protecting her, she was sure of that.
“Don’t you trust my judgment?” she asked.
“Not at all, you fucking madwoman, look at the men you let into your flat.”
She struggled to her knees, then fell back into his lap so she could take his face in her hands and pull him down for a kiss.
“From where I’m sitting, I’ve made the best choices.”
“Worked out for me at least.” He pulled the blanket over, tucking them both into it, then kissed her again.
****
MacAvoy’s phone didn’t buzz with a text until dinner time, while he was spilling beans over toast and some poorly-scrambled eggs. Belle had sent him several options, and the thought of keeping all the travel straight made his stomach lurch. How had he done all this drunk? If he checked his credit card statements, would he find hundreds of pounds in taxi fare?
It was almost over, though. The endless void of weekend was endless no longer, and whenever he crawled miserably out of bed tomorrow, he could walk straight to the nearest bus stop and be that much closer to having a purpose again.
****
When shopping for pajamas, Belle never gave much thought to other people seeing them. Sometimes she favored cozy pants and a t-shirt and other times, a cool silk negligee. With Nosty there to keep her warm at night, she was glad she already had a selection of what one might consider to be sexy nightclothes.
She studied her blurry reflection in the fogged mirror after her shower, admiring as best she could the way the navy blue silk hugged her form. Nosty hadn’t said anything—she didn’t think he would—but he seemed to like running his fingers along the lace edging, and she didn’t want to discourage that by wearing a regular nightgown.
It was a little too chilly to just wander around in a negligee, so she slipped her robe on and tried not to skip happily out of the bathroom. Being too bouncy was bound to scare Nosty away.
Then, she saw him at her bookshelf, fully dressed in boots and his leather jacket, examining the titles, and her legs could no longer skip if she wanted them to, laden now with the terror that he was about to leave.
“What are you doing?” she asked, trying not to accuse. Maybe he was just cold—but that didn’t explain the boots.
He turned slowly, and she knew he’d been ignoring her when she came out of the bathroom, not so absorbed in looking that he hadn’t heard her.
“Getting late.” He gestured to the clock above the TV. It was close to nine. “Best be off.”
Her lungs couldn’t remember how to take in and release air. She felt trapped somewhere in the cycle, somewhere before the oxygen went to her brain, and she wished that Nosty did not have this power over her, that she was not so beholden to his mood swings that she stopped breathing at the thought of him leaving.
“Why?”
She wanted to walk to him, to grab him by the lapels and make him look her in the eye so he’d see everything within her, but her heavy feet rooted her to the spot.
“You’ve got a fucking job, Belle.”
“So?” She tried to tell herself that she had to let him go if he wanted to. “What does that mean?”
He stomped toward the kitchen—thank god not the door—and paused in the doorway, gathering his locks into a thick bundle and then releasing them.
“So—so you’ve got a fucking real life. Starts on Mondays like all the other fucking sellouts.”
“What, so this was just a fake life? This weekend didn’t exist?”
He stuffed both hands in his pockets, and she heard a clicking noise from one of them. A knife, maybe? A lighter?
“Belle, come on.” He took a step toward the door, but her legs unfroze and she all but teleported in front of it. He backed into the kitchen doorway.
“Do you want to leave?” she asked. If he wanted to go, she wouldn’t stop him, but if he was panicking, she wasn’t going to just let him disappear into the night.
“I have to.”
She tried to listen, tried to make out his tone, but it was so hard with adrenaline pumping so fast, it nauseated her.
“Why?”
“I’ve got stuff to do. You’ve got stuff to do.”
“What stuff?” If their roles were reversed, this would look dangerous. Nosty, blocking her only exit from the apartment? Someone would lock him up. But Belle didn’t feel dangerous at all; she was just a tiny speck of a person, someone Nosty could sweep aside with one wave of his muscular arm.
“You don’t want me to answer that.”
Despair coiled in her gut, the familiar loneliness taking root where it always lived. Had she been a fool to think this could be anything? Was this just a fantasy?
“I want you to tell me why you’d rather sleep under a newspaper than in my bed.”
Finally, finally, he took a step toward her, then another and another until he was close enough to cup her face in his hands. She clenched her teeth against the moisture that threatened to spill over. She wouldn’t cry.
Apparently, she would, because seconds later, Nosty was swiping away tears with his thumb. She hadn’t thought he would do that—she’d always thought he’d run if she cried.
“A newspaper?” he asked. “What, you think I’m a fucking hobo in Oliver Twist?”
She laughed, wet with tears, and he kissed them away.
“I don’t know how you sleep. You won’t tell me anything about you,” she said.
He pulled back, letting his hands slide until they cupped her neck, watching her.
“Under a bridge, usually. Get a fire going, bottle of gin, not too shabby.”
She closed her eyes. “Stop. Don’t sugarcoat for me. I hate the thought of you out there, but you don’t have to lie if you really want to go.”
“I have to go, sweetheart.” He kissed each of her eyelids, then stepped back as she opened her eyes. “This is just a fucking holiday from your real life. Trust me, you’ll be happier this way.”
“Don’t tell me what makes me happy.” She jabbed a finger into his chest, and he looked down in surprise. “You don’t get to decide for me. If you want to go because you’re scared, that’s your choice, but don’t put it on me.”
“I’m not fucking scared!”
“You are.” She jabbed him one more time, then folded her arms. “Coward.”
“Oi!” He reared back, pressing a hand to his heart. “I’m no fucking coward. You want me to stay? I’ll fucking stay.”
“Don’t stay just to prove a point.” The tears welled up again, but this time, she didn’t try to stop them. “If you’d rather be alone on a sidewalk with your gin, then go.”
He licked his lips, and his movements were like he was squaring up again, but he was too scared to commit to it. Good. He should be afraid of her if he was going to tell her what to do.
“How the fuck is this supposed to work, Belle? What the fuck are we doing?”
“I don’t know, Nosty, it’s only been three days. I thought maybe we’d figure it out as we go, like most couples, instead of having an existential crisis over bedtime.”
It felt mean to say, but this didn’t look like it upset Nosty as much as being called a coward. In fact, he settled, watching her like she might attack and he wouldn’t be ready for it.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Neither do I.” She stepped one foot toward him and when he didn’t back away, continued. “No one knows what to do at the beginning. This isn’t a Jane Austen novel. There’s no courtship ritual. Do you want to stay with me tonight?”
He nodded, and she walked until they were chest to chest, but didn’t move to touch him.
“Are you sure?”
“I’d rather sleep on the mat outside your door like a dog than go back to the sidewalk with my fucking gin,” he said.
Tentative, she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest, listening to his heart thump as wildly as hers. He started moving, and it wasn’t until his jacket thudded to the floor that she realized why, and then he was wrapping his arms around her, and those lonely roots backed off. Maybe someday, they’d disappear.
“I want to be with you,” she said, putting as much firmness in her voice as she could with her cheek pressed so tightly to his sternum, she couldn’t fully form words.
“You’re crazy,” he said. “But that suits me.”
“Stop telling me I’m crazy.” She leaned away to look at him, but not enough that she had to loosen her grip. “Stop acting like I can’t make up my own mind.”
“I just don’t get it.” He tapped on her forehead. “Intelligent bird like you—what the fuck are you thinking?”
“It doesn’t matter if you get it. It only matters that you trust me.”
He kissed her on the forehead then, a gesture of such comfortable intimacy, she almost cried again.
“If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Why are your boots still on then?”
He snorted. “Can’t take ‘em off with a whole fuckin’ woman hanging off me, can I?”
“Not my problem.”
He moved her arms from his hips to his shoulders, and before she realized what was happening, he’d hoisted her up by the waist to carry her to the bedroom where he all but threw her on the bed.
“Stay there,” he ordered, and this time, she didn’t mind being told what to do. “And take your robe off.”
She obeyed, trying not to panic when he stomped out and calming when she heard the bathroom door swing shut. By the time he returned, she was lounging back in her silk negligee, and he wore a new pair of sweats and nothing else.
“When do you get up for work?” he asked.
“Seven,” she said. “But if I pick out my outfit the night before, I can sleep in a bit.”
He wandered over to her closet, sliding the door open so he could flick through everything. Within a few seconds, he’d plucked a forest green dress from its hanger and thrown it over her vanity.
“There. Good enough?”
“I need stockings and shoes.”
She didn’t really, but watching him root around in her drawers to find a suitable roll of stockings and then her closet for matching shoes brought a smile to her face. He came up with nude hose and a pair of black pumps, adding them to the vanity when she nodded her approval, and then he was in bed with her, cocooning them in the comforter and wrapping himself around her like she’d disappear if he didn’t.
“I like the way you dress.” He ran his thumb along the lace hem, just like she’d thought he would, and then his hand wandered to her thigh.
“I think you look very dashing in a kilt.”
“Dashing, eh?”
His fingers whispered along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and she flooded with heat, the loneliness banished for the night.
“Very.”
He kissed her shoulder, moving toward her neck with his lips, and she wanted to turn around, participate, but he held her steady with his arms around her, and when he closed his teeth around her skin and sucked, she decided she didn’t mind.
“Nosty,” she sighed, and he pulled his lips away with a pop. His hand slid up her skirt, resting on her stomach, and she could feel that he was enjoying his attentions to her as much as she was, the evidence pressed up to her back.
“Tell me something,” he whispered, nipping her earlobe.
“Tell you what?”
“Anything.” He stroked his hand up, brushing the underside of her breast with just the tip of his finger, the closest he’d ever come to really touching her. “Something no one else knows.”
She wanted to give his question thought, but it was so hard when she was lightheaded with the feel of him, the relief he was here.
“You already know everything,” she said. “I’m an open book.”
“Too open. I want you all to meself.” His fingers ghosted along her breast, and when one brushed her nipple, she gasped. “Tell me who else has done this.”
He ran his thumb around her nipple this time with a little more force, a little more intention, and she felt like she could come just from that. This was dangerous territory.
“No one’s ever—” She cried out again when he bit down on her shoulder. “No one’s ever done anything more than just—”
He pinched her nipple and she thrashed, but his other hand came around to hold her against him at the hip.
“Keep talking, sweetheart,” he said. “Let me hear your voice.”
“I’ve only had bad sex,” she said. “It’s always been better alone.”
He licked the mark he’d undoubtedly left on her neck, then kissed her shoulder. “Forget all that,” he growled, and she could have disintegrated. “I want you to feel good.”
“I feel good.”
Still flicking his thumb back and forth across her nipple, his other hand ran along the edge of her knickers, between her thighs, gently stroking the sensitive skin there.
“I can’t—” she tried, but when he ran a finger along her knickers, she moaned.
“Can’t what?”
“Reciprocate. Not until—”
“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.” He switched to her other breast, and she had never had anyone use their hands so deftly, so tenderly. “Tell me what feels good.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, although maybe nice wasn’t the right word when he was ghosting his finger between her legs, just hard enough to tease her.
“I want to hear you scream.” He bit her shoulder. “I’ve wanted to do this since I met you.”
“You’ll—oh—you’ll have to work for it.” This was likely not true—she was on the verge of screaming right then, and he’d barely done anything.
“Anything, sweetheart. Anything you want.”
She wanted him to stay, to be in her bed when she woke up tomorrow and again when she went to sleep. He drove the words out of her mind, stopping his ministrations to use both hands to tug her knickers off, and then he was running a finger along her wet skin, and she shuddered.
“I didn’t realize how much you fucking liked me,” he said, and the teasing note in his voice only made her want to scream his name more, but she kept her mouth shut.
“I didn’t know you were so good with your hands.”
“I’ll show you, sweetheart.” He slipped the tip of his finger inside her and she did cry out then, rolling her hips as he gently moved in and out. “Any bastard who didn’t take the time to do this was a fucking idiot.”
She agreed—not even the thick feel of a vibrator felt as all-encompassing, as earth-shattering as Nosty’s finger exploring her while his other hand tended to her breasts and he licked and sucked and kissed along her neck and shoulder.
He slid his finger in further, pinching a nipple as he did, and she lost sense of time as he drew from her all manner of whimpers and sighs and cries of his name.
“Oh god, Nosty,” she said when the pleasure had built so high, she didn’t know if there was anywhere else to go.
“That’s it, love,” he growled. “You’re fucking beautiful, I promise I’ll let you come soon.”
She didn’t know that the idea of being allowed to come would fill her with just as much heat as the feel of his teeth scraping along her bare skin, but she moaned at that, and he groaned in response.
Then, he slipped his finger out of her and up to her clit. She had never put much stock in the fireworks described in romance novels, but she felt it then, electricity all over, and then it crested and burst, and she screamed Nosty’s name as she came, clenching around his hand. He held her, rubbing her gently until she stopped convulsing.
“You are perfect,” he whispered, and she thought she might come again.
“So are you,” she said.
Tenderly, he kissed the side of her neck, sliding his hands off of her and righting her nightgown. Her knickers were lost somewhere in the bed, but she could find them later.
Once free, she shifted until they faced one another, cupping his cheek this time.
“I don’t want tonight to end,” she said. She kissed him softly on the corner of the mouth, and he clutched at her hip.
“Me neither.”
She rubbed her thumb along his stubble, loving the feel of it and the way his eyes drifted shut when she did. “Nosty?”
“Mm?”
“Do you feel safe here?”
He was quiet, and she wondered if she’d done something wrong, said something stupid. Then he took her hand from his cheek and slid it down, pressing her palm to his chest, watching their fingers instead of her.
“It’s more dangerous here than anywhere else,” he murmured. “You’ve got a fist around all me most vital organs.”
“I’ll take good care of them.” She moved his hand to her heart as well, knowing he could feel the I love you thumping against her breastbone, and she didn’t care. “As long as you return the favor.”
He leaned down, nuzzling his nose against hers. “I’ll keep you safe.” His lips hovered near hers. “You’ll never have to worry as long as I’m here.”
His heart beat against her hand, a steady, powerful drum. “I trust you,” she said.
Nosty finally kissed her then, and as he rolled them over to blanket her with his body, she had never felt safer.
[chapter 7]
#anyelle#anyelle fic#anyelle fanfiction#nostelle#macelle#nostelle fic#macelle fic#nosty#covetous#new update#anyelle fanfic
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
Have you ever written fanfic for something other than Once/anyelle?
Yes I have! I’ve been writing fanfic since I was eight years old and I’ve had many fandoms in that time, although on my current AO3 account you’ll only find one completely unrelated fic for the Hobbit. I do also write straight SGU fic (Gloria/Nick and Chloe/Nick).
If you were ever to find my old online handle you would discover a wealth of fanfiction to my name for Harry Potter, Phantom of the Opera, Twilight (we were all young once, don’t judge me), and The Worst Witch. If you track me down, that’s fine, but I’m not going to publicly link my old handle to my current one if I can help it.
I have also written but never posted fanfiction for The Dark Knight Trilogy and Kingsman.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
30 Days of Fanfiction, Day 9
Going to try and get back into doing these...
Day 9: Pairings – For each of the fandoms from day two, what are your three favorite pairings to write?
As a reminder, (to me as well), here’s my list:
Rumbelle/OUAT (Including anyelle and anyem) - 67
The Mummy Franchise - 5
UC:Undercover - 4
Sleeper Cell - 2
Star Trek: Discovery - 2
Stargate: Atlantis - 22
Stargate: Universe - 7
Tolkien - 4
Halt and Catch Fire - 2
Foundation 1
Hellcheer -1
So, here are my pairing:
Rumbelle/OUAT - no other than Belle and Rumple (though sometimes with a side of Jefferson)
The Mummy Franchise - Ardeth Bay/OC (I’ll chop off my fingers before I’ll ever write an Ardeth/Evie fic.)
UC: Undercover - Frank/Saran (OC)
Sleeper Cell - Faris/Samia
Star Trek: Discovery - No pairing, just gen fic.
Stargate: Atlantis - Michael/Teyla
Stargate: Universe - Rush/Gloria or Rush/Belle if it’s gonna be Rushbelle.
Tolkien - Thranduil/Celindailiel (OC)
Halt and Catch Fire - Joe/Sara
Foundation - Empire/OC
Hellcheer - Um, that would be Eddie/Chrissy.
1 note
·
View note
Text
OUaT/DF: The Breaking of the Day (1/?)
AO3 link. Sequel to No Light Over London. New friends and new enemies appear as Danny and Belle venture deeper into the world of London's ghosts, and make a discovery that could change the nature of reality itself. ((A little teaser for Halloween! Can't say when the rest will come, but it's my next priority after No Good Deed.))
1 note
·
View note
Text
Welcome!
What is Rumbelle Summer Vacation?
It started with this post! Rumbelle Summer Vacation is a fan event planning to run through the month of August. Rumbelle got their Happily Ever After at the end of season 6, and as we know, Belle has always wanted to see the world. And so, through the month of August, the idea is for thirty-one (or more!) Rumbelle fans to each pick a day and a location, and then post about somewhere Rumbelle went on their travels!
What kind of works are accepted?
Anything! Literally anything! As long as it’s complete and has not been posted before, is set post-season 6, and is about Rumbelle travelling. Fanfiction is great, so are edits, comics, drawings, videos, whatever you can think of!
Do I have to post on the day I pick?
One of the (very few) downsides to one-day fic events and exchanges, is that some awesome works get lost in the deluge. The idea of RSV is to spread it out, so everyone gets a day when their work is the centre of attention. Ideally, since it’s nearly two months away, everyone should post on their chosen day.
However, we can accommodate closer to the time if there are problems! Remember, queuing is a thing if you’re busy the day of posting, and this blog is capable of posting submissions if you really can’t be around to post on a free day! In the end if you can’t post, no worries :D
Do I have to choose a new location?
Again, the idea is to put the spotlight on whoever posts that day, so it makes sense for each fic to be a new variation. You have the whole world at your disposal - if you’re really stuck, have Rumbelle visit your home town!
If you have a really excellent idea, but the location is already chosen, then at least try and narrow it down. But please try and make this a last resort!
Are Anyelle and/or smut allowed?
Smut is most definitely allowed, so long as its appropriately tagged! Unfortunately this is supposed to be a Happy Ending post-s6 Rumbelle event, so Anyelle stories don’t really fit the bill. However, if you want to have another Bobby show up in your story, by all means go for it!
How about if I’m an angst-lord and want to make readers cry?
I mean, I can’t stop you, but this is about celebrating our hard-won happy ending! So if you make the babies cry, you gotta try and fix it by the end.
How do I sign up?
The sign-up sheet is HERE - please fill in your name and location next to your chosen date!!!!
Please don’t edit beyond that, or move anyone else’s entry! - anyone who does tamper with it beyond that risks ruining the event for anyone, and so Ru will hunt you down and murder you.
It’s my day: how do I post?
Either submit your work to this blog, or post it to your blog and send us the link so we can reblog it! Or both! Just make sure and tag #rumbellesummervacation in the first four tags so we can find it!
I wanna help!
Awesome! Hopefully this event will basically run itself, I could do with a few people who’re willing to keep an eye on the spreadsheet, provide encouragement to entrants who need help, or make sure this blog is up-to-date, please send me an ask! - @rufeepeach
#rumbelle summer vacation#rumbelle#rumbelle fic#rumplestiltskin#belle gold#belle french#ouat#once upon a time
80 notes
·
View notes
Note
Fanfiction Asks: 33, 36 and 41
33. Least favorite AU tropes? Naughty schoolgirl and teacher.
36. Do you like crossovers? If so, favorite crossover? Yes, I am a crossover fan, depending on the blend. The characterization has to be spot-on. As far as Anyelle, I’m a big Nostelle and Macelle fan. A few of my fave crossovers:
- In the Arms of an Angel by @witchnova221 is a brilliant and terribly underrated Rumbelle/Doctor Who- Across the Stars by @still-searching47 is an OUAT/Star Wars blend I adore- And Then You by @rowofstars is an angsty and adorable OUAT/Stargate storyThis is a bit of a shameless self-plug, but I also like my Macelle fic, Morning Glory, and my OUAT/Avengers crossover Lay Bare the Heart.
41. Favorite fluffy tropes? Any, all. Friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, domestic dorks being adorkable, family fics. Give me all the fluff, really.
Fanfiction Asks
5 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
dogcake14
Join in the Fun
halogalopaghost
Tony Stark Deserved Better
broh21-blog
Untitled
guyyurienjoyer
Un soupir à la fois
skyrimgf
dead blog