Once Upon a Time x Reader One Shots

August - Believe

When you began dating August W. Booth, you both promised to never lie or omit information from one another. You both believed in complete trust and honesty as the foundation of a healthy relationship. It wasn't that you didn't trust him, but you'd been lied to before, so you couldn't take any chances. Nothing hurt more than being stabbed in the back by somoene you trusted.

So you were understandably concerned when August called you over to his place with the message, "We need to talk."

August's apartment was normally neat and tidy - books on their shelves, bed made, dishes washed and in their proper cupboards. You often wondered if he was a neat freak or if he just wanted to impress you.

Today, however, his apartment was in chaos. Books were strewn out all over the place and his bed was unmade, as though he'd been moving nonstop since the moment he awoke. You finally took a closer look at the books he kept around his apartment, having never paid much attention to them before. You saw now that they were books on lore and fairy tales. Titles like "Snow White," "Pinocchio," "Little Red Riding Hood," and "Rumplestiltskin" could be read on the spines of the looks littering the floor. You also noticed "Fairy Tale Origins" and "Fairy Tales Inspired by True Events" amongst the others.

"August?" you called cautiously, not seeing the brunet anywhere. "What's going on? Are you alright?"

You could hear a small crash followed by a string of curse words as August stumbled into view, having tripped over something in the process.

"Hey, (y/n)," he greeted awkwardly.

"What's going on?" you repeated. "Why did you call me over? Why is your apartment a disaster?"

"We need to talk," he said solemnly, a mix of fear and hesitation in his eyes. He led you over to the part of the couch that didn't have books on it and gestured for you to sit beside him.

"Have you always been so invested in fairy tales?" you wondered, looking around at the books.

"That's actually what we need to talk about."

You looked back at him with a furrowed brow. "Why?"

He took your hands in his. "Do you believe in magic?"

You scoffed. "Magic? Like snapping your fingers and making your apartment clean?"

"Kind of," he replied. "More like that there are truths behind the fairy tales you read as a child."

"What do you mean?" you asked. "What truths?"

He took in a breath, unsure of how to explain. "Every fairy tale you've ever read has an origin story, right? A base where the story was inspired? What if I told you that those bases were real events, just like the wars in history books?"

"You mean to tell me that Snow White and Cinderella were real people?"

You meant it jokingly, but he nodded solemnly.

"August, what's going on?" you asked again. "Where did all this come from? Are you okay? Are you on drugs?"

He sighed. "No, I'm not on drugs. And no, I'm not okay. (y/n), I need you to trust me. Don't you trust me?"

"I think so," you replied softly. "I just don't understand what's wrong with you."

He picked a book off the floor and set it in your lap. It was "Pinocchio."

"This is my life, my history," he explained, looking down at the small boy on the cover.

"What do you mean?"

"Fairy tales are real," he tried again. "Every fairy tale has a history. There's a town in Maine called Storybrooke and all of the fairy tale characters reside there. I'm Pinocchio."

"August..." You couldn't even think of a response. You thumbed through the book, scanning its pages. You weren't sure what you were looking for, but you were hoping for a sign that August wasn't crazy. You couldn't wrap your head around this idea of fairy tales truly existing, but you loved August and you wanted to believe him.

"Look," he said, pulling up his pant leg. You glanced down and a gasp fell from your lips.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a prosthetic leg?" you asked, taking in the very wooden limb.

"You can see it?" he breathed.

"Of course I can see it!"

He brought you in for a hug, only adding to your confusion. "That means that at least a part of you believes me."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's not a prosthetic," he replied. "It's my leg. I'm Pinocchio. When I'm selfish or dishonest, I turn to wood. These past few months I haven't told you about my past are taking a toll on me, and I've been turning to wood."

"And I can see that... because I believe your story?"

He nodded eagerly.

You blew out a breath. "Okay," you replied, your eyes darting between his wooden leg and his hopeful eyes. "I'll try. I do trust you, August."

His hands came up to hold your cheeks and he planted a gentle kiss on your lips. "I love you, (y/n). Thank you for believing me."

"I love you too," you nodded, resting against him. He spent the rest of the afternoon explaining Storybrooke and all of its residents, and you decided that you wanted to meet them.