#raven's fic

[abovethemists]

Never Let Me Go - Chapter 4

Summary: Bonded together by tragedy, Lacey and Gold shared an intense relationship that ended when she split town. Lacey has spent the past five years trying to move on, while Gold has been stuck in a town that never seems to change. When Lacey is forced to return to Storybrooke, she is faced with the demons of her past and the fear that she made the wrong choice all those years ago.

A/N: This fic is so old it's from when I still made headers for my stories. It's been years, and I doubt anyone wanted more of this, but here you go.

TW: Minor character death, hospitals, medical stuff in this chapter 

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)

Read it on AO3

Monday Evening

Vascular Dementia. 

That was Moe French’s official diagnosis, brought on by a series of mini strokes he hadn’t even realized he’d had. 

They’d spent the whole day at the hospital, her poor dad getting poked and prodded. He was lucid enough, but the doctors said his short term memory would continue to degrade. Lacey slumped on to the sagging sofa once her father had gone to bed for the night, feeling an exhaustion that had nothing to do with lack of sleep. 

She hadn’t seen Gold since he kicked her out of his house on Friday night. She didn’t expect to see him. But now her stay in Storybrooke was stretching out before her with no end in sight. She would eventually have to go back to her life, but for now she was here. Her father needed her, and probably would for the rest of his life, however long that might be. Gold couldn’t skip town forever. He’d have to come back eventually. She would give him his space, she resolved. He didn’t want to see her and she wouldn’t force her presence on him. She’d done that once already and it had led her to forsake her marriage vows for the first time. Never mind that she had loved Gold long before she married Will. Never mind that they were separated, possibly never to reconcile. He didn’t deserve to be cheated on. He was a good man. She was the villain of this story.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed beside her and she looked down at it, not really having the energy to speak to anyone. But she couldn’t avoid real life forever. 

She held the phone up before her, swiping her thumb to answer the FaceTime call. 

“Hey, Will,” she said, trying to keep her face neutral. Pretending the sight of him didn’t make her want to cry. 

“Hey!” Will’s smiling face appeared on her screen. He was standing in their kitchen, in their apartment. She could see the overly complicated fridge he’d insisted on behind him. Lacey hadn’t had much use for a fridge that could play music and make shopping lists, but it made Will happy, something she just couldn’t do. “Look, I know you said you need space but it’s been days and I’m worried about you, Lace. How’s Moe?” 

“Worse than expected,” she admitted. “I didn’t realize…”

She trailed off, feeling the guilt of the last five years weighing so heavily that for a moment she couldn’t breathe. She had left Gold, she had left this town, she had left her own dad, the only family she had left in the world. Things had gotten rough between them, but he didn’t deserve that, to be abandoned by his only child. 

She had only thought of what she needed, to put as much space between herself and Storybrooke as possible. She was such a selfish bitch. 

“Lace?” Will prompted. She blinked, shaking her head. 

“It’s, uh, vascular dementia,” she said. “Probably caused by smoking so let that be a PSA for you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He looked it too, all big brown eyes. “Not your fault,” she said with a shrug. “You didn’t force him to smoke a pack a day for decades. But I’m gonna have to be here a bit longer than expected, I think.”

“Yeah, sure,” Will said with a nod. “Take as much time as you need.” 

“Thanks,” she said. And she meant it. Will would give her space and time and be there for her at the end of it, if she chose to return to him. Isn’t that what he’d done five years ago? The guilt gnawed in her belly. She never should have chased Gold down on Friday night. 

“Um, it’s pretty late here,” she said, glancing at her watch. It was almost 10 in the evening. 

“Oh, shit, the time difference,” Will exclaimed. “I’m headed out to dinner with some of the lads from work anyway. Um, when can I talk to you again?” 

Lacey bit her lip, looking at the corner of her iPhone screen instead of at Will’s big eyes. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ll check in in a few days or if anything changes.” 

Will looked disappointed but didn’t protest. 

“Look, Lace,” he said haltingly. She could see him set his phone down on the kitchen counter, bracing his elbows on the edge and leaning forward to stare at her through the screen. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said before you left, about that fight. You’re right. I shouldn’t be trying to force my idea of a perfect family on you. If you’re happy just the two of us, then so am I.”

Lacey smiled ruefully. 

“No you’re not.” 

He blinked owlishly. 

“What are you saying?” 

“The same thing I’ve been saying for weeks,” she said. “That you deserve everything you want in life. You deserve the picket fence and the 2.5 kids in the suburbs.”

“But I can’t have that with you,” he returned. “So I don’t need it. I just don’t want to lose you, babe.” 

“You haven’t lost me,” she said. You can’t lose what you never really had.

“It kind of feels like I already have,” he said, staring down at his hands clasped together on the kitchen counter. “Enjoy your time back home, Lace. I’ll see you when I see you.” 

With that the screen went black, the call ended.  

Lacey let out a frustrated groan, letting her head fall back against the couch cushions. What on earth could she possibly do? She’d tried to end things with Will, but he loved her too much to realize it. And it wasn’t as though she had a future with Gold. She’d burned that bridge thoroughly 5 years ago. 

A thump came from somewhere down the hall and Lacey sat up, listening. She heard the thump again and shot up, heading down the hall to her parents’ bedroom. 

“Dad?” she called, with a knock on the door. “Is everything alright in there?” 

The thump came again, sounding like a hammer against the wall. What had he gotten in to?

Fuck! Lacey thought, throwing the door open only to be met with the sight of her dad, still in his pajamas, stooped over his old toolbox and rifling through a box of nails. 

“Oh, hello sweetheart,” he said with a smile at her as he stood up. “Your mother’s been on me to hang these photos for weeks so I figured I’d better get on it.” He started hammering a second nail into the wall beside the first.

Lacey glanced at the floor next to his feet where an assortment of framed photos were stacked. The top one was from her high school graduation, Lacey sandwiched between her parents in her cap and gown, both of them beaming with pride.

“It’s the middle of the night, Dad,” she said wearily. 

Moe’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. 

“Is it?” he asked, turning toward the darkened window. “Well, look at that. The day must have gotten away from me. I’m sorry, darling. I hope I didn’t wake you.” 

“It’s alright, Dad. Just get some sleep, okay?” 

Moe set the hammer down on the bedside table, moving to climb into bed. Lacey made sure he was all tucked in before leaving the room, closing the door behind her with a gentle click. 

She leaned against it for a moment, closing her eyes. 

Will, Gold, none of it mattered right now. This was what was important, taking care of her dad and getting him through the day. She owed him that much after what she’d done.

7 years ago

“Miss French,” Lacey jumped, her eyes fixating on the woman in front of her. “Did you hear me?” 

Lacey shook her head, completely overwhelmed by the steady stream of medical lingo that had just been thrown at her. She’d been at work at Granny’s when she’d received a call from the hospital. Her mother had flatlined. They’d been able to revive her, but they weren’t certain how much longer she had.  

“Um, I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her sweaty palms against the red skirt of her uniform. 

“She had a seizure,” the doctor repeated. “We’ve revived her twice already, but we cannot get in touch with your father. It’s putting a lot of stress on her body and I’m not sure how much more she can take. We need you to make a decision.” 

Lacey shook her head, feeling completely lost. 

“What…what kind of decision?” Lacey asked. 

“Your mother doesn’t have a DNR. She doesn’t have a medical power of attorney. You would know best what she wants.” 

What she wants. They needed Lacey to tell them whether to pull the plug. To let her mother die with some sort of dignity or keep shocking her back to the half life she’d been lingering in for months. 

“I…I need my dad,” she said. 

“I know,” the doctor said kindly. “We can try calling him again.” 

Lacey nodded as the doctor walked over to the nurses station, speaking quietly to them. 

She wandered down the hospital hallway to where her mother’s room was, peeking in through the doorway. Colette didn’t look like herself. She looked small, and frail, and old. She’d been so beautiful, so full of life. Her mother had been gone for months. This shell, this broken husk, it wasn’t Colette French. 

She knew what her father’s decision would be. He’d want to keep her with him as long as possible. When she was a child, Lacey had thought her parents had a storybook romance. The way they told it, Moe had fallen head over heels the moment he saw her in a park in Melbourne. Colette had been reading on a park bench and Moe, never much of a reader himself, had sat next to her and asked her about her book. Colette had rambled on for 30 minutes about Dostoyevsky and at the end of it, he was smitten, never mind he had no interest in Russian literature. They’d married 6 months later. 

But her father wasn’t here now, when his darling wife needed him most. He’d said he couldn’t see her like this, but he couldn’t let her go either. She was his world. 

Lacey wasn’t sure she’d ever feel that kind of love for someone. She didn’t feel it for Will, despite going out with him semi-regularly for the past two months. But if she did find love like that, she’d want to be with them at the end. To hold their hand, to tell them it was okay.

Lacey squeezed her eyes shut, sinking down into a chair outside her mother’s room. She wished someone would tell her everything was going to be okay. But the only person she could think to call at the moment had his own burdens. She couldn’t add to them. 

Twenty minutes later, her mother coded again. 

Lacey could hear the frenzy from inside the room, the doctors and nurses doing their best to keep her mother technically alive. 

She braced herself for the end, breathing steadily through her nose and trying not to succumb to the waves of grief lapping around her ankles. 

“Miss French,” the doctor was beside her again. 

“Yes?” she returned, though she knew what the doctor would ask. 

“We’ve tried to get hold of your father. He’s not answering the home phone or his cell. Do you know where else we could try?” 

Lacey shook her head. She had no idea where her father disappeared to these days. He wasn’t at Granny’s or the Rabbit Hole. There weren’t many other places in town open in the late evening. 

“Then I’m afraid we’ll need a decision from you.” 

Lacey looked up at the doctor with wide eyes, the waves of grief reaching her chest now. 

“I’m just a kid,” she gasped out. It wasn’t true. She was 21 years old. She was an adult in every respect. But right now she felt like a frightened child. She wanted her mother. She wanted her Daddy to show up and take care of everything. She wanted the grown ups to make the decisions.  

“I’m sorry, Miss French,” the doctor said. “Lacey. I’m so sorry.” 

Lacey nodded, swallowing down the bile in her throat and trying to form the words she desperately didn’t want to say. 

“She wouldn’t want all this,” she managed to croak out. “She’d want to be at peace.” 

The doctor nodded, disappearing inside the room. A moment later she was back at Lacey’s side. 

“We removed her intubation tube and other life support,” the doctor said. “She’s on pain medication to make her comfortable. If you’d like to sit with her…” the doctor trailed off, looking at Lacey sadly. 

“Yeah,” Lacey nodded. “I want to be with her.” 

She felt numb as she entered the room, sitting in the chair next to her mother’s bed. Colette had never been a vain woman, but she’d taken care of herself, presenting a pristine appearance to the world. The dye to cover her grays had grown out, her face gaunt despite the feeding tube. The fine lines around her eyes and mouth, etched there from years of joy and smiles, looked deeper in the fluorescent lighting. Lacey wished she could brush her hair for her, apply her favorite lipstick, do something to make her look like herself. 

“Mum,” she said, her voice wavering. “Mum, it’s Lacey.”

She took her mother’s bony hand in her own, her skin feeling dry and cold. “It’s okay, Mum,” Lacey said, the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t know if you can hear me. But if you can, you can rest. I know you’ve fought so hard to stay with us, but…I can’t let them torture you just to keep you here a few more hours or days.” 

Lacey closed her eyes, sobs wracking her body. 

“I’m here Mum, you’re not alone. I’m here.” 

She stroked her thumb against the back of her mother’s hand. The beeping from the machine next to her bed was a slow drone, her mother’s chest rising and falling so shallowly it was almost imperceptible. Lacey sat there, holding her mother’s hand for what felt like ages as the beeping slowed ever more. She talked to her about everything and nothing. Telling her about her dates with Will and her conversations with Mr. Gold. She told her about an article she read in the New Yorker and a movie trailer she’d seen online. She told her that she was the best mother she ever could have asked for. She told her how much she loved her. It could have been minutes or hours later when the sound of the flatline droned out. Lacey squeezed her mother’s hand, feeling like she’d cried too much to ever cry again. Even still the tears came again. She leaned forward, kissing her mother’s forehead as the doctor called time of death. 10:38 PM on January 4th. 

After the doctor had shut off the machines, after they’d removed the wires and tubes, Lacey sat with her, her chest hurting from the sobs and her face feeling tight and sticky with dried tears. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do now. 

“Where is she?” she heard a voice from the hall. A familiar voice. “Where’s my wife!”

A moment later Moe French barrelled into the room, taking in the sight of his wrung out daughter, his wife’s body on the bed. 

“What did you do?” he demanded of Lacey. “What the fuck did you do?”

“You didn’t answer the phone,” Lacey’s voice rasped out. 

“You did this,” he accused. “You let them kill her!” 

“She was already gone, Dad,” Lacey said, tears stinging her eyes once more. “She was gone.” 

“Get out!” he shouted at her. “Get away from her!” 

Her father stumbled forward, collapsing in tears across the bed. 

“Colette,” he moaned out. “Don’t leave me, darling. Please!” 

Lacey just sat there frozen. She’d never seen her father cry. He’d never raised his voice to her either. 

“Didn’t you hear me!” he cried out viciously, turning to look at Lacey with such blistering hatred in his eyes that it took her breath away. “GET OUT!” 

Lacey jumped up from the chair, stumbling backward out of the room. 

The Following Friday

There was much to be said for Gold’s little cabin in the woods. It was beautifully situated, right on the edge of a tranquil lake. Neal had swam in the lake in the summers as a boy, and ice skated there in the winters. The inside of the cabin was small and rustic, but cozy, easily warmed by the large stone fireplace in the living room. The one small bedroom had a window out to the lake that framed the sunrise beautifully. The front porch boasted two rocking chairs, the perfect spot for a cup of coffee of a morning or a glass of wine in the evening. 

Unfortunately, if one was not inclined toward swimming or ice skating, or meditating over coffee, or birdwatching, or hiking, it could be downright boring. 

The internet and cell service were spotty, and despite catching up on his reading, by Friday morning, Gold was growing restless. 

In addition, he was running low on provisions. The loaf of bread in the larder had gone stale, he was almost out of coffee beans, and most damningly, he was completely out of whisky. 

It was time to head back to Storybrooke.  

Besides, she couldn’t possibly still be in town. Last Friday night would be one ill advised indiscretion that he’d never have to think about again. Never mind that he’d thought of it constantly alone at his cabin. He’d had little enough else to occupy his mind. He’d replayed every moment of their last encounter over and over again. The way she’d smelled, the sounds she made, the feel of her soft skin against his own. It was enough to drive a man mad. The last five years of celibacy hadn’t helped in banishing thoughts of her from his mind. Lacey French had opened a dam of feelings and emotions that he’d repressed for half a decade. Suddenly he was wanting things, things he had no right to want again. And he was still so utterly furious with her. 

She’d broken his heart. He couldn’t let her do it again. 

But Lacey was certainly gone. He’d given her a whole week to look after her father. Hopefully she was on a plane even now back to the other side of the country. He could go back to the carefully crafted stoicism that kept him from feeling anything too keenly. Not his loss, not his lust, certainly not his love. 

The drive back into town took no more than half an hour, and Gold decided to stop at the grocery on his way home, certain his coffee and whisky stores at home were just as depleted as the cabin’s. 

He was slowly perusing the aisles, in no real hurry to be home, shopping basket in one hand and cane in the other, when he caught a whiff of something achingly familiar. He set his basket down, turning away from the shelf of cooking oils and looking around. 

It was the warm scent of cinnamon, spices and jasmine, earthy and beautiful. A scent tied to powerful memories, and one he had reveled in again just one week ago. Lacey . 

Just as quickly the scent was gone, and Gold could have believed he’d imagined it. She’d been on his mind enough these days. But something in his gut told him she was here. And the part of him given to self destruction had to see her. 

He rounded the next aisle, spotting her a few yards away. 

She froze at the end of the aisle, her hand halfway outstretched for a box of cereal. She dropped it quickly, turning and heading off in the other direction. 

Something perverse within Gold made him follow her. 

“You're still here,” he called at her retreating back.

Lacey stopped, turning to face him, but her blue eyes refused to meet his. 

“Yes,” she said, her shoulders sagging. “I’ll stay out of your way.” 

“See that you do,” he returned coldly. “How long do you plan to be in town?” 

Lacey shrugged. “Indefinitely,” she said. 

Gold nodded stiffly. He couldn’t very well hide in his cabin for the foreseeable future. For one, he had a much more comfortable home here in town. Secondly, he had businesses to run, tenants and clients and customers. No, he couldn’t hide like a dog with his tail between his legs. He would have to live with the fact that Lacey could be lurking on any street corner. Perhaps seeing her regularly would numb the pain, would make him immune to her. He could only hope. 

“I’m going to help my dad with his shop,” she continued. “Make sure money is coming in. And take him to his doctor’s appointments, make sure he’s taking his medication and eating well, all that stuff.” 

Gold just nodded again. 

“Like I said, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“It’s a small town,” he observed. “We’re bound to run into each other.” 

Lacey licked her lips, and didn’t he just hate that he couldn’t help but look at her mouth, imagine the feel of it on his own. He wanted to kiss her, right here in the middle of the grocery store where any town busy body could see. And he also wanted her to leave and never come back. He wanted her to be as broken hearted as he still was, no matter how much time had passed. 

“Daniel,” she said softly, stepping closer to him. “I don’t want to hurt you. I promise you’ll never see me. If you do, we can ignore each other completely, okay? These are the last words you ever have to hear from me.” 

“I’m not hurt,” he lied. 

She took half a step back, a look of hurt crossing her own face. His hand twitched at his side, wanting to reach for her. He’d always wanted to give her comfort. It’s how they’d wound up here in the first place. 

Lacey nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I’ve got to finish the shopping. Goodbye, Mr. Gold.” 

She grabbed a box of cereal off the shelf blindly and tossed it into her shopping cart before wheeling it off, not giving him a second glance. 

7 Years Ago

She’d never been to his house before, though of course she knew where he lived. Storybrooke was a small enough town and there were few homes as grand as Mr. Gold’s. She stumbled there blindly, her boots slipping in the snow. She was shivering, her teeth chattering from the cold and from grief and from fear. Her father would never forgive her. And she wasn’t sure she could forgive him, for abandoning her, for forcing her to make decisions that never should have been hers. 

Before she knew it she was standing in front of the three story pink Victorian she knew to be the Gold home. She trudged up the icy steps, knocking twice on the front door. 

It was late, nearly midnight, and if Lacey had been remotely in her right mind she’d never have bothered him. He had lost more than her, a child rather than a parent. He’d been alone for the past five months while she’d still had her mother lingering between life and death. She had no right to seek him out for comfort. 

And yet here she was. 

A light flickered on behind the stained glass window, a shadow moving in the hall, before the door was thrown open. 

He must have been asleep was Lacey’s first reaction. He was wearing a dressing gown over a pair of navy blue pajamas. It was an incongruous sight. She’d never seen him in anything but a buttoned up three piece suit. She’d be willing to bet no one outside of his immediate family had ever seen him as undressed as she was now. A funny thing to think about at a time like this. 

“Lacey,” he said with a look of surprise. “It’s freezing out. What are you doing here?”

“You were sleeping,” she blurted out. 

Gold’s eyebrows rose imperceptibly. 

“No,” he assured her. “Attempting to, but not meeting with much success. You didn’t wake me.” 

“Oh,” Lacey said, her teeth chattering. “That’s good.”  

“You’re shivering,” he pointed out, ushering her inside. “Come in out of the cold.” 

Lacey stepped into his foyer, the door shutting behind her and shutting out the world just as decisively. 

It was warm, and not just because of the heated air. Everything about the house was warm and inviting, decorated in shades of burgundy and gold. Even the lighting felt warm, like she was being embraced by the house itself. 

Some people probably would have thought Gold’s home would be sterile and cold, but Lacey knew better. He was the only person in the whole damn town who cared about her, a silly 21 year old college drop out with no future. 

Gold led her down a short hallway and into a sitting room, two large leather sofas facing each other across an antique coffee table. 

“Sit,” he told her, gesturing to one of the sofas. “And tell me what’s wrong.”

Lacey took the offered seat, wrapping her arms around herself. She was still in her Granny’s uniform, her little white puffer jacket the only thing shielding her from the cold night. 

“She’s gone,” she croaked out. “My mother.” 

“Oh, Lacey,” Gold said, taking a seat next to her. The sofa dipped under his weight and Lacey slid slightly into him. He placed an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” she said, staring blankly at the coffee table. “I just didn’t have anywhere else to go.” 

“Well, you’re more than welcome,” he said. “But what do you mean nowhere to go? Where is your father?” 

Lacey shook her head. “He hates me,” she whispered. She could see the look on his face, the hatred in his eyes, every time she closed her own. Whatever relationship she’d had left with her dad since the accident seemed well and truly destroyed. 

“What?” 

“It was my fault,” Lacey said, her voice rising in pitch. “I told them to take her off the life support. I’m the reason she’s dead!” 

“No,” Gold said fiercely. “None of this is your fault. It was that bloody fucking drunk who took everything from us. It could never be your fault.” 

“I didn’t know what to do,” Lacey continued. “She just looked so frail and so tired. I couldn’t let them keep bringing her back. She wanted to go, I know she did.” 

“You should never have had to make that choice,” Gold said, rubbing her back. 

“He’ll never speak to me again,” she said. 

“Of course he will,” Gold said. “He’s your father and he loves you. Grief makes people say and do terrible things. But never doubt a father’s love.” 

Lacey shook her head. 

“He hates me,” she said again. 

Gold didn’t say anything more, just held her until the shaking subsided, her nerves finally calming after the adrenaline left her system. Her head leaned against his chest, nestling under his chin and he readjusted them on the sofa until she was stretched out beside him, his heartbeat thumping reassuringly under her ear.

He’d never touched her like this before, she thought, arms wrapped around her, his big hand rubbing her back in slow, steady strokes. It was intimate, almost like lovers.

Their relationship over the past several months had been friendly, comrades in arms, but there’d been carefully drawn lines between them. He was twice her age, for one. It was something they’d never acknowledged but always seemed unspoken. They were united in their shared grief, but nothing inappropriate ever occurred. 

Mr. Gold was a perfect gentleman. 

Lacey knew she was attractive. She’d never lacked male attention. But to Mr. Gold she was as sexless as an old running shoe. He’d never shown the slightest interest in her that way. That was one of the reasons she liked him so much. 

She moved her head slightly, looking up at his face in the lamplight. His eyes were closed and she wondered if he’d drifted off. It was late after all. 

Her eyes traced the line of his nose, his sharp cheekbones, down to his lips. For the first time she wondered what they would taste like, how it would feel to kiss him. The quiet intimacy of snuggling with someone on their sofa suddenly had her thinking all sorts of inappropriate things. 

Her heart still hurt so badly, broken by the loss of her mother and her father’s anger. She thought she’d probably never feel happiness again and yet, here she was objectifying Mr. Gold in his sleep. 

She wondered what he would do if she pushed him back on the sofa, and straddled his lap. Would he stop her? What if he didn’t? 

He really was so handsome. She wasn’t sure when the thought had turned from a detached assessment to a visceral need. He was beautiful and she wanted him. She wanted him now. 

She turned her head, pressing her nose into his neck. He smelled so good, warm and clean, like laundry fresh out the dryer. But there was something spicy there too, some hint of aftershave. She could feel his pulse beneath her lips, the steady thrum. The ones they loved were gone, cold and lifeless. But he was so warm and alive. 

She didn’t want to feel dead anymore. She’d been sleepwalking through the past few months, in a constant state of mourning her mother. She was exhausted by it. She felt far older than her twenty-one years, haggard and drained. She wanted to feel alive. Even if it was only for one ill-advised night. 

She moved her lips against his neck, a soft fluttering kiss just beneath his jaw. She felt him tense beneath her, holding himself deathly still. So not asleep after all. 

Lacey leaned up on her elbow, looking down at Gold, his eyes still shut. She could swear he was holding his breath. 

She leaned forward, brushing her lips against his. Gold’s dark eyes flew open, wide with shock as Lacey pulled back slightly.

“What are you doing?” he whispered. 

“Kissing you,” she said softly. She kissed him again, and this time he kissed her back, his lips warm and soft. It was a short, chaste thing before his hands came up to cup her shoulders, pushing her back gently as he sat them both up.  

“Lacey, you’ve had a trying evening,” he pointed out. “You’ve suffered a devastating loss.” 

He was pushing her away. She should let him, she should get up and walk away before she fundamentally altered their little friendship. But she had nowhere else to go. She didn’t want anywhere else to go. 

“I want this,” she said. “I want you.”

An unfathomable look passed across his brown eyes. Confusion crossed with something like longing. Then he shook his head.

“You’re only saying that because you want to feel something other than the pain.” 

Lacey scooted forward, closing the distance between them he’d created. 

“Is that so bad?” she asked, running her hands through his long hair. “Don’t you want the same? To forget for a minute and feel something good?” 

He caught her hands in his own, holding her wrists lightly in his hands. They were rougher than she would have thought, calloused. She wanted to feel them everywhere. She wanted to see beyond the little triangle of skin exposed by the open neck of his pajamas. She wanted him.

“I’m not asking you to marry me, Mr. Gold,” she said, her voice almost pleading now. “But I think we could help each other.”

“How?” he asked, his voice ragged. His eyes were so large, so vulnerable. “What would it help?” 

He still had hold of her wrists, but she chanced reaching for his hair again and he let her. She combed her fingers through it, running her short nails against his scalp. His eyes slipped closed and he let out a little sigh as he let her pet him. She wondered the last time he’d been touched like this. He’d been divorced as long as she could remember. Did he date? Did he have a girlfriend? Did it matter?

“How do you do it?” she asked, her hands slipping through his hair and down to the nape of his neck, rubbing at his tired muscles above the collar of his pajamas. “How do you wake up every morning knowing you’ll never see him again, never hear his voice? How do you get through the day?”

Gold licked his lips, his eyes still closed.

“It’s a bit like being on auto pilot,” he said after a moment. “I wake up, I dress, I go to work. I exist. It’s not living though, Lacey. It’s survival, nothing more.” 

“Exactly,” she said. “I feel the same way. These past 5 months have been hell. We deserve to feel good.” 

His eyes opened again, fixed on her own. She could see the same weariness, the same pain, the same hurt, reflected back at her.

“We could make each other feel good.” 

The air was electric, taut with tension. Lacey was afraid to breathe, to do anything that might break the spell. 

A split second later, Gold had her pinned to the sofa, his mouth relentless against her own. His lips pulled at hers, his tongue dipping into her mouth to taste her. Her hands found his hair again and she pulled at it as he grunted, his hips thrusting against hers. 

Lacey gasped as he broke away, kissing down her neck, pulling at the buttons of her white button down shirt. It was like she’d opened a dam and she was being carried away by the flood waters. All thought of anything but the man overtop her flew from her head. His hands were on her breasts, between her legs, and she was gasping and writhing with pleasure. 

“I’ll make it good,” he whispered against her ear as she clenched around his fingers. “I’ll make it so good, sweetheart.” 

And he did. It was one promise he always kept.

[ionlydrinkhotwater]

I'm obsessed with Raven Neil but I've been thinking about Trojan Neil and the idea cracks me up

Imagine Nathaniel was supposed to join the Ravens but someone in the Moriyama camp decides that unlike Jean whose criminal family is not as notorious and pretty low level, Nathaniel's dad and mom are getting a little too much attention from the FBI and BIA and to be honest part of Nathan's function is to take most of the heat off the Moriyamas anyway. Bringing Nathaniel to the Nest would bring the authorities attention on them and they don't want that.

But they still wanna make a buck off this kids future. So they train him up a bit and send him off to the Trojans aka the second best exy team in the league. Nathaniel will debut with them and go pro from there and 80% of his salary will go to the Moriyamas. Also they don't have all of their eggs in one nest so to speak (pun intended). Seems like a solid plan.

But the thing is Nathaniel is still Nathaniel so they need to make sure he has the right attitude for the infamous sunshine court. He is trained to smile sweetly and behave. Which he technically does but...well he's still Nathaniel.

Imagine his Butchers smile as he tells his opponent in a pleasant voice that is still so so unsettling to everyone who hears it: "Have a winning day!"

I need a fic where this happens. I need a hilarious fic where Neil is even more criminally unhinged but has a veneer of sunshiney bonhommie that makes it even scarier.

[ghostbsuter]

"I can see dead people." He mentions with a shrug, using the chopsticks to fish more noodles into his mouth.

Dick stares at him. "Huh."

"Is that why you help?" He asks, getting more spring rolls.

"Yeah. Once someone becomes a ghost, word gets out quick, and they come to me. Always tatling about unfairness and justice." The kid waves the words around, rolling his eyes.

Dick just pretens to he uninterested, despite his mind racing at the new info. He is piecing past moments together, every shadow leaping away, every note with tips, leads and—

Huh.

"Do you... like it? Doing all that?" Richard approaches thus carefully, brows furrowed at the kid opposite of him.

Danny moves his head, giving a 'so-so' answer. "It's not much to like, I can see ghosts, and they know it and use it. If it brings them to peace or whatever– well, that's just a plus."

Dick stares. He places his chopsticks down and looks at Danny worried.

In turn, the kid sighs. "Sometimes gifts become curses the longer you have it."

And Dick understands.

Mind made up, he throws a pair of keys at the kid, watching fondly as the other catches them with confusion.

"Next time use these, instead of entering through the window."

Danny mock-salutes with a shit eating grin. "Yes, Officer grayson."

[soybean-official]

(not ship)

[magniloquent-raven]

"Oh, good, you are alive." Eddie says as soon as Tommy opens his front door. He pushes his way into the house without waiting for a response, and leaves Tommy blinking at empty space.

"...Sure, come on in," he mutters.

"Would it kill you to answer your phone some time?" Eddie's standing in the living room, hands on his hips, looking at Tommy like he's expecting something.

And Tommy's still lingering in his own doorway, suddenly very aware of how ripe his PJs have gotten. "It's my day off." It's a lame excuse and he knows it. He turns away to shut the door so he won't have to look Eddie in the eye.

"It's been, like, three weeks, man."

Tommy sighs quietly. "Yeah, look, it's just..."

"Is this the part where you tell me you both love me equally and it isn't my fault mommy and daddy are getting divorced." He's being flippant, but there's anger there. Tension in his voice. Tommy's not sure if it's on his own behalf or Evan's. Either would be fair, probably.

No. No, it isn't. It's not fair. He doesn't get to storm in here and judge Tommy's life choices. It's not like he's happy with himself about this, he didn't want to break things off. It just. Didn't work out.

"We don't, Eddie."

"What?"

Tommy folds his arms across his chest. "Love you equally. He needs you more than I do."

"What happened to me being allowed to have more than one friend?"

You know what happened, Tommy wants to snap, wants to be the kind of person who gets so angry he breaks, bleeds the tension out. He wants to untangle the knot that's been tightening in his chest for weeks.

Instead he hunches his shoulders. "Nothing, you have plenty of friends. A whole station of them." Tommy bites the inside of his lip so hard he tastes iron, and his eyes fall shut for a moment while he collects himself. "I was trying to make things easier for you."

Eddie narrows his eyes. "Yeah, nothing easier than getting ghosted. In fact, I love it when people I care about suddenly stop talking to me."

"You know what I meant. You have to take his side."

"Oh, I am. Breaking up with him like that was stupid, and he's really hurt."

Tommy barely contains his wince.

"But you were my friend before you were his boyfriend." Eddie's expression shifts, not quite softening. "I'm not here to defend Buck's honour, I'm here because my friend isn't making good choices and I'm worried about him."

He cried that night three weeks ago. Held off until he'd made it home and then bawled like a child, curled up in the dark and not bothering to wipe the snot from his nose. He hasn't cried since. Not when he found one of Evan's sweaters shoved between the cushions on his couch. Not when a date night reminder he forgot to delete from his phone dinged three days ago. Every time he wakes up to nothing but empty lock-screen he feels a little more hollow thinking about all the texts he used to get in the middle of the night.

But he hasn't been crying about it. Until now.

He's not sure what it is exactly. Something about Eddie refusing to let Tommy stonewall him. Something about all the things he's gone through alone never mattering to anyone. Not enough to warrant more than courtesy comfort.

"Woah, hey, was it something I said?"

Tommy shakes his head, and wipes his cheek with the heel of his hand. "It's been a weird few weeks."

It has, is the thing. He used to be good at being alone. But six months of borrowed time was enough for him to be in a lot deeper than he thought. He doesn't just miss Evan he misses being invited to his family dinners, and hearing about life with the 118.

"How 'bout I drink your beer while you tell me about it."

"...Okay."

[densewentz]

Take Your Kid to Work Day (with Dream's decidedly more alarming version of an artist rendering their kid's drawing)

[ravenelyx]

And somehow I'm both

[fishfingersandscarves]

cries for 5 billion years about hounds by @xx-vergil-xx

[little2nerdy]

reading tsc and jean’s interactions with neil being full of just wishing neil had stayed with him and been his forever partner makes me want to cry. also makes me want to read raven!neil fics for the first time? any suggestions would be much appreciated

[abovethemists]

The Worst That Could Happen - Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Summary: Nicholas Rush has been told to lighten up or face repercussions in his professional career. Lacey French is in desperate need of a wedding date. A blind date provides them both with an opportunity. From the prompt “Rushacey blind date”. 

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

In the end, Rush took a half-day on Thursday, heading north on the I-95 around two in the afternoon. It was just under a four hour drive to Storybrooke, most of the way straight highway. He only had to look at directions on his phone once he exited, taking a twisting forest path through dense green trees. After twenty minutes he was worried he was lost, certain there was no town up ahead, only more greenery. But, before he could fret too much, he saw a sign to the side of the road. “Welcome to Storybrooke”.  

The forest finally gave way to small wood framed houses, increasing in frequency as he approached the center of town. It was late afternoon and the sun was starting to set, casting white clapboard and red brick in shades of gold. The houses soon started to be joined by businesses, a fishing supply store here and a convenience store there. Soon he had turned on to Main Street, a quaint little downtown that looked plucked from another era entirely. Main Street seemed to lead down to a wide bay dotted by boats in the harbor, their colorful flags fluttering in the evening breeze.

It was a far cry from Boston, even further from Berkley, Glasgow, anywhere he’d ever lived. It was like something from a story where a plucky female detective investigated murders that rocked the small, closed community.

Rush shook his head. What was supposed to be so great about small towns anyway? No wonder Lacey hadn’t expanded her business. She needed to be somewhere with clients if she wanted to design clothing.

Lacey had given him an address for where to meet her and he’d assumed it was her home. That soon proved incorrect as he turned off Main Street to find 910 Maple.

He stopped the car, parking on the curb and climbing out to look around. Rather than the house or apartment building he’d been expecting, he was faced with a two-story shingle style cottage, its gray paint starting to fleck away in places. Hanging above the small porch was a wooden sign bearing the name Granny’s Bed and Breakfast. He’d noticed a Granny’s Diner on Main Street and the two businesses seemed to back into each other, connected by a late addition to the original buildings.

Rush sighed, walking around to the trunk of his car and pulling out his suitcase. Well, it was Gold’s, in actual fact. He hadn’t owned anything he could hang his borrowed suits in and Gold had insisted his beloved clothing make the trip in style. He hoisted the garment bag over his shoulder and slammed the trunk shut, shuffling up the cement steps that led from the curb up to the B&B.

So Lacey had booked him a room, he supposed. It was just as well, considering he and Lacey barely knew each other. She’d hardly want a strange man sleeping on her sofa no matter how harmless he seemed.

The entrance to the inn was small and slightly musty. He couldn’t imagine there was much use for a hotel in a town as small as Storybrooke, but he’d expect there to be other guests with a wedding in town. From what he’d gathered, the bride was far from local.  

There was a small desk nestled under the stairs, a row of recessed key cubbies set into the wall beside it, each bearing a key attached to a shiny brass fob. Rush wasn’t sure he’d ever stayed at a hotel with an actual key rather than a plastic card.

The desk was currently empty and the little bell set atop it made barely a sound when he tapped it, certainly not enough to summon anyone to his aid.

Rush stepped away from the desk, looking around and straining his ears for any sign of life. Perhaps the eponymous Granny was busy in her diner.  

He thought he could just make out a mumbling of voices proving he wasn’t alone in the inn when it was punctuated by a loud laugh, well a guffaw really, and he immediately recognized it as Lacey’s. He wasn’t sure how he could recognize the laugh of a woman he’d only known for two short weeks, but he could picture her accompanying smile, her head thrown back, eyes filled with mirth. Rush smiled in spite of himself, following the sound down the hall and into a cozy lounge.

Lacey was seated on a red damask sofa, sagging a little in the middle from use. She had a china tea cup balanced on her knee and a wide smile on her face. Across from her in a high wingback chair was a plump old woman with a graying bun piled up on her head. She had a pair of bifocals hanging around her neck and a thick khaki cardigan wrapped around herself for warmth.  Granny, he presumed.

“And speak of the devil, here he is!” Lacey cried, motioning at Rush with both arms spread wide, her tea nearly sloshing out of its cup. “You made it!”

“Uh, I did,” he said, dumbly, nervous as always when faced with Lacey’s full attention. She was smiling at him as if she was genuinely happy to see him and though he knew it was most likely an act, he couldn’t quite stop his own smile at the sight of her.

“So you’re the one who swept in and stole our Lacey,” the old woman said, leveling him with a hard look. Rush turned to face her.

“I haven’t stolen anything,” he returned. “I’m just here for as long as Lacey will have me.”

Granny regarded him for a long moment, before giving a curt nod and standing up.

“Let’s get you checked in, shall we?”

It was the work of moments to get Rush checked in, one of those shiny brass key fobs in hand, even with Granny leveling mild threats at him if he treated Lacey badly.

“She’s mildly terrifying,” Rush said once they were headed up the stairs and out of ear shot.

“Who, Granny?” Lacey asked. Without waiting for an answer she gave a flippant wave of her hand. “She’s harmless. Unless you insult her cooking, that is.”

“Is she your grandmother?”

“No,” Lacey said with a shrug. “Everyone just calls her that since she runs Granny’s Inn and Diner. I don’t think she was the original Granny though. It may have been her mother? Or grandmother? I don’t know. She’s my friend Ruby’s biological grandmother but she fills the role for most people in town. Ruby’s mum split when she was six and Granny raised her. Me and Belle’s mum died when we were 13 and she kind of took it upon herself to mother us too.”

“I didn’t realize you lost your mother so young,” he said. “That must have been difficult.”

“Oh,” Lacey said with a shrug. “I mean sure, it sucked, but it is what it is, right? And we still have dad.”

The last was said with a little eye roll that belied her words. Rush could well understand complicated feelings about fathers.  

“And here we are,” Lacey said once they’d reached the end of the upstairs hallway, motioning at the door with a brass number 3 on it. Rush used his key to unlock the door, having to force it slightly with the side of his foot.

The room was small but clean, a little too floral for his tastes. There was a double bed in the middle of the room, a small antique desk beneath the window that looked out toward the forest, and an armchair in the corner next to a lace doily covered rickety side table with a rotary phone on top.

But the thing that most arrested Rush’s attention was the presence of a small duffle bag sitting in the middle of the bed.

“I think Granny gave me the wrong room,” he said, turning to Lacey as she followed him inside.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, stepping around him to throw herself bodily onto the bed, the springs creaking loudly beneath even her slight weight.

He motioned to the suitcase next to where Lacey was sprawled across the bed.

Lacey followed his gaze.

“Oh, that’s mine.”

Rush blinked.

“What?”

Lacey pushed herself up on the heels of her hands, giving him a look like he was somehow stupid. Rush was not stupid.

“It’s our room,” she said slowly.

“Why are we sharing a room?” he returned, just as slowly.

Lacey shrugged. “Because we’re dating, silly. It’d be weird if we didn’t sleep together.”

“I apologize,” Rush said with a little shake of his head. “But I’m a little confused. I assumed I was staying here at the inn because having a strange man in your home was an issue. Why are we both staying here?”

“Oh!” Lacey exclaimed, sitting forward. “Sorry. I figured you didn’t want to stay at my dad’s place. That’d be…awkward.”

“You don’t have your own place?” he asked, before realizing how that sounded. “Sorry, no judgment. I’ve heard it’s hard out there for…millenials.”

Lacey snorted a laugh and Rush winced at how terribly old he must sound. 

“No, I had my own apartment,” Lacey said with a nod. “But I’m back with my dad for a bit. Once Will left town I couldn’t afford rent by myself so…” she trailed off.

“You lived together?” he asked. It seemed every time he got more of a glimpse of Lacey’s previous relationship, the more involved it was.

“Yeah, well we were together almost four years. At some point you move in together or you split up.”

“F--four years?” he stuttered out. “You never told me that.”

Lacey blinked.

“Look, Lacey, I need to know what I’m getting into here. You and Will were together for four years? You lived together for some of that time? What, were you ever engaged?”

“No!” Lacey exclaimed. “It was never that serious.”

“Four years and a shared apartment isn’t serious?”

“We were never gonna get married,” she countered. “It was fun and easy, but not earth shattering. We were…glorified roommates. With benefits. Not even great benefits, in case you were wondering.”

He wasn’t.  

“Regardless,” Rush continued. “You were together a long time and now, only a few months after your split, you’re attending his wedding. Have you thought this through?”

“Yes!” Lacey exclaimed, hopping up from the bed, the creaky springs bouncing wildly. “Yes, we were together for a while. Yes, he dumped me. Yes, he’s getting married to someone else in an infuriatingly short time span. But I don’t love the guy, okay? If I ever did, those feelings ended long ago, before the relationship did. Right now what I need is a nice, stable boyfriend so I don’t look pathetic and Ana doesn’t get weirdly jealous and decide not to wear my dress last minute. If you don’t feel comfortable with that, well, you can go.”

She pointed to the door of the room, her chest heaving and blue eyes flashing.

“I just want to know what I’m getting into,” he repeated.

Lacey took a deep breath, her arm dropping to her side.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a little nod. “I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just so fucking tired of people asking me if I’m okay. I’m great.”

“Okay,” he said, unconvinced. He crossed the room to where a small wardrobe stood, and hung up his garment bag inside. “What now?”

Lacey gave him a big smile. “Free booze and crab cakes, baby. Who doesn’t love a wedding? We’re gonna have a blast.”

Rush just grunted in response. He’d never been keen on weddings, but at least there’d be an open bar.

“Oh shit,” Lacey said, glancing down at her watch. “I need to get dressed for tonight.”

“What’s tonight?” Rush asked.

Lacey’s eyes widened.

“Did I forget to tell you? There’s a little party at the diner for the out of town guests.”

“You told me about the rehearsal dinner and you told me about the wedding, that’s all I packed for. I didn’t bring any extra clothes,” Rush said, glancing down at his jeans.

“What you’re wearing is fine,” Lacey assured him. “It’s just Granny’s. It’s a diner.”

“Then why are you changing?” he asked with a pointed look at her leggings and sweater.

“Because I’m a fashion designer,” Lacey crooned. “And people expect me to make a spectacle of myself. I’ll just be a minute!”

She grabbed her bag off the bed, heading into the en suite bathroom and Rush sat back against the rickety bed, the mattress groaning beneath his weight. He tested it a bit, bouncing himself up and down.

It was a good thing he and Lacey weren’t an actual couple. If they tried to get up to anything on this bed, the whole bloody town would know.

It took Lacey twenty minutes in the bathroom with her makeup bag to be ready for the evening’s events. Her dress was store bought, but heavily altered. A fitted black mini dress, she’d opened up the back, using ribbon to criss cross across her back and ending in a bow right above her backside. Paired with her signature heels, it was, perhaps, a little dressy for the gathering at Granny’s. But then again, Lacey had never shied from attention of any sort. Everyone would be looking at the happy couple in any case. 

Her stomach churned at the thought, and Lacey squashed down the feeling, smiling at herself in the bathroom mirror instead. There, that was almost how she usually looked. 

When she came back out to the bedroom, Rush was seated on the bed, scrolling on his phone. He’d changed his shirt, she noticed. The rumpled blue one he’d been wearing was replaced with a crisp white button down that stood out beautifully against his tanned skin. He looked up at her as she entered, stuffing his phone into his jeans pocket. 

“Wow,” he said, his eyes widening slightly. Lacey smiled, pleased by his reaction. 

“Not too much?” she asked, twirling to show off the back of the dress she’d worked so hard on. 

Rush stood up from the bed, grabbing the brown suede blazer beside him and shrugging it on. 

“You, um,” he cleared his throat. “You look nice.” 

“Oh Nick, you’ll make me blush,” she said with a wink at him. He shuffled awkwardly, glancing away from her, and Lacey took pity on him. 

“Come on,” she said, grabbing him by the elbow and steering him out the door of their rented room. “Adventure awaits!” 

Granny’s Diner was, predictably, packed, and Lacey could feel Rush tense up beside her as she opened the door, laughter and the smell of sizzling meat spilling out into the chilly evening. She looped her arm through his, trying to feel confident enough for the both of them.

She whispered names and tidbits of information to Nick as they maneuvered their way through the crowd. 

“That tall one with the red streaks in her hair is Ruby,” she whispered into his ear while feigning a flirtatious moment. “Granny’s granddaughter and my oldest friend. The blonde next to her is Ashley. Don’t get stuck in a conversation with her unless you want to be bored to death.” 

“Thanks for the warning,” he mumbled back. 

“Oh, and here comes the bride,” she intoned, stepping back from Nick to welcome the approaching Anastasia. 

“Lacey!” Ana called, her voice a little too loud. There’d been a lot of that in the last week, smiles just a little too wide, excitement just a little on edge. Lacey could have excused it as pre wedding jitters if she didn’t know the truth. Ana was trying desperately to be okay with her presence.

“Hi, Ana,” she said, before being pulled into an awkward hug. She patted the taller woman’s back twice before stepping away. “You look beautiful, as always.”

Ana glanced down at her cream colored shift dress. It was chic and simple but rather than looking plain, Ana sparkled in comparison.

“Thank you!” she exclaimed, grabbing hold of Lacey’s hand. Her eyes slid across to Nick and she gave him one of those overly sincere smiles. “And you must be the professor!”

“And you’re Mary Anne?” he joked. Lacey snorted.

Ana looked confused. “No, I’m Anastasia,” she said, pumping Nick’s hand for all he was worth. “The bride. I’m marrying Will, I believe you’ve met.”

She gestured over her shoulder to where Will was chatting with a few of his mates.

“Of course,” Nick said smoothly. “My apologies.”

“Oh no,” Ana said with a wave of her hand. “I’m so glad you could make it. Please come in, eat something, have a drink. This weekend is all about me, but tonight is about you, the guests!”

“Oh, thank you,” Nick said, looking slightly startled, as though he was staring into the sun and having a hard time not looking away.  

“Ana!” someone called from behind them and she grabbed both their hands. “Excuse me,” she said with a brilliant smile and then swanned away with a slight wave in their direction.

“Wow, she is…”

“Gorgeous?” Lacey interrupted, interpreting Nick’s thoughts. Every head in the room swiveled to follow Anastasia. She didn’t have to dress in over the top frocks or towering heels to get attention. She was one of those rare creatures who entered a room and immediately commanded it. Of course Nick had noticed. He wasn’t blind. She wasn’t sure why it annoyed her so much. 

Nick looked down at her. “I was going to say chipper,” Rush said with a wry twist of his lips. “Do you think if she keeps smiling like that her face will get stuck?” 

Lacey let out a startled laugh, squeezing Rush’s arm before steering him toward a friendlier face. 

Ruby was leaning back against the diner counter with a glass of champagne in one hand and a bored expression on her face that split into a relieved smile when she spotted Lacey. 

“Oh thank God you’re finally here,” Ruby said, pulling Lacey into a side hug. “I’m supposed to be a guest at this thing but Granny keeps making me hand out hors d'oeuvres. Let’s grab a bottle of champagne and split.” 

“No can do,” Lacey said, grabbing Rush’s hand and pulling him to her side. 

“Nick, this is my friend Ruby, Rubes, this is Dr. Nicholas Rush. My boyfriend.”

“Pleasure,” Ruby said, holding a red nailed hand to shake his. Her eyes cut across at Lacey, her eyebrows raised in a question.

“Nice to meet you, Ruby,” Rush said, drawing her attention back to him. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting any of Lacey’s friends yet.”

“Oh really?” Ruby asked. “I didn’t even realize Lacey was dating anyone.”

“It’s still a new thing,” Rush said with a shrug. “And you know Lacey, doesn’t want to make a big thing of it.”

“Yeah,” Ruby said, unconvinced. “Lacey is so understated.” 

Lacey grinned widely, wrapping her arms around Rush and leaning her head against his shoulder. 

“I just wanted to keep him all to myself for a bit.” 

“Oh, hey, Lacey,” came a voice from beside them. “I didn’t realize you were coming tonight.” 

Lacey spun to see Ashley Boyd, holding a tray of beef and caramelized onion canapés. She grabbed one, stuffing it into her mouth and speaking around it. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Ashley’s eyes darted to where Will was standing and back to Lacey. 

“Well…” she began. 

“This is my boyfriend,” Lacey cut across her. “Nick Rush.” 

“Oh,” Ashley said, looking at Rush with startled blue eyes. “Hello.” 

Nick graciously shook her hand. 

“So, how did you two meet?” Ashley asked, setting the tray of canapés down on the counter next to Ruby.

“Nick works with Mr. Gold at the University,” Lacey supplied. “Gold and Belle set us up on a blind date about three months ago and, well, fireworks.” 

“Oh I don’t think there were any fireworks on your side, sweetheart,” Rush said self-deprecatingly. “But I was certainly awestruck to be on a date with you. Still not sure how I got so lucky.”

Lacey could feel herself blushing at the compliment and worked with it, giving him a soppy little smile.  

“That’s so sweet!” Ashley said, before Granny barked at her from behind the bar to pass the canapés again. 

“Excuse me, guys, work calls.” 

Ruby took a long sip of her champagne, her eyes never leaving Lacey as though she was trying to read her mind.  

“Hey, Lace, can I talk to you for a minute?” Ruby asked, her smile strained. “Alone? Excuse us, Dr. Nicholas Rush.” 

Ruby grabbed her hand, lugging her toward the back of the diner by the jukebox. 

 “What are you doing?” Lacey asked. 

“Who the hell is that guy?” Ruby returned, motioning toward Rush.

“Dr. Nicholas Rush,” Lacey said with a shrug. “My boyfriend.”

Ruby narrowed her eyes.

“You said you’ve been dating him for three months,” Ruby pointed out. “So how come I distinctly remember you telling me about a one night stand you had with some twenty-two year old three weeks ago?”

Lacey swallowed, buying herself a moment.

“We weren’t exclusive then,” she said.

“Oh bullshit,” Ruby cried. “Where did you find that guy?”

“I told you, he’s friends with Gold,” Lacey said truthfully. “Belle set us up.”

“You’ve never dated an older guy before.”

“Well I’m twenty-eight years old,” Lacey pointed out. “Maybe I’m sick of slumming it with pathetic boys. Maybe I want a real man for once. It seems to be working out for Belle.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow. “And the two of you have been known to want the same things,” she said, sarcastically.

At Lacey’s silence, Ruby gave an exaggerated huff.

“Fine. He’s your boyfriend,” she said, making air quotes around the word. “I’ll go along with it if it’s what you need right now. But you do owe me an explanation at some point.”  

“Can’t wait,” she deadpanned at Ruby’s retreating back. 

She stood there for a moment, feeling like she’d been knocked off her groove. She hadn’t expected anyone to see through her ruse quite so quickly. She knew Ruby wouldn’t tell anyone or try to embarrass her, but the more people who knew her secret, the higher the chance she’d end up looking like an idiot. 

At least Will and Ana didn’t seem to suspect anything. The bride-to-be was sipping a glass of white wine with a gaggle of adoring buffoons circled around her. Will was on the opposite side of the diner with his own crowd of well wishers. He looked happy. Happier than she’d seen him in a long time. 

She wished that didn’t make her want to shatter something. 

Instead she opted for a drink, grabbing a glass of champagne off a tray at the bar and swallowing down half of it in one gulp. Then she stood up a little straighter and headed for Will's group. She needed to say hello at the very least. 

Rush was standing awkwardly next to Will, surrounded by a few of his friends. He had a beer clenched in his fist and looked at her rather hopelessly as she approached. 

"Lacey," he said, and she didn't think she imagined the relief in his voice. She wondered how he'd been drawn into conversation with Will in the first place. She could only hope he wasn't so annoyed with Will and his friends that he abandoned this whole scheme. 

“Dr. Rush was just telling us all about academic life,” Will said with a slight twist to his lips. “Never knew you to go for the brainy types, Lace.” 

“I didn’t go to college,” boomed Will’s friend John, a giant of a man they all had to crane their necks to see. “Yeah, just wasn’t for me.” 

“I think finishing high school is a prerequisite for getting into university, mate,” Will said, slapping his friend on the back. 

“Oh and where did you go to school?” Lacey cut across Will. “If I remember correctly, your Facebook profile says you attended the “School of Hard Knocks”. Where is that located? Seattle?”  

Will opened his mouth with an undoubtedly witless retort, but was saved the embarrassment by Rush. 

“Academia is just another job,” he said. “No better or worse than any other. My father was a dock worker in Glasgow and I did my fair share of manual labor in my youth. I’ve nothing but respect for honest work. Frequently it pays better than teaching too.” 

That earned a round of agreement from Will’s friends. 

“You know how much underwater welders rake in?” Will’s friend Robin asked. “A guy I used to work with went to diving school and now he’s making six figures.” 

The other men all gave suitably impressed grunts of approval and Lacey resisted rolling her eyes. 

“Thrilling conversation, lads,” she said, stifling a fake yawn. 

“Oh, I apologize,” Will said sarcastically. “Are we boring you?”

“You?” Lacey shot back. “Always.” 

Will snorted a laugh. “Well let's get some tequila in you and you can end the night giving half the diner a lap dance.” 

“That was one time, you asshole,” Lacey laughed, giving Will a playful shove at the memory of her 24th birthday. “And it wasn’t a lap dance, it was a table dance. Get it right. Granny had me banned for a full 6 weeks.”  

Will’s friends all laughed at the memory and for a split second, it felt like life had gone back to normal, to six months ago when everything still made sense. Until they were interrupted. 

“Hey, you, I thought I’d lost you,” Ana said, walking up and placing a hand on Will’s shoulder. 

“Never,” Will said with gusto, wrapping his arm around Ana’s slim waist and kissing her cheek.  

Lacey felt the smile on her face freezing like she was in rictus. 

“What’s so funny over here?” Ana asked, glancing around at them all. 

Will swallowed uncomfortably. “Oh nothing, just remembering a time Lacey made a fool of herself.”

Ana glanced at Lacey with raised eyebrows. 

“That’s me,” Lacey said, raising her champagne glass in salute. 

“Hmm,” Ana said, turning back to Will with a pretty little pout. “I’m heading back to the house. I have an early morning tomorrow and I need my beauty sleep.” 

“Aw, babe, it’s so early still,” Will groused. 

“I have yogalates at 6 and I will look dreadful if I don’t get seven hours sleep before then.” 

“Not possible for you to be anything but perfect,” Will said, nuzzling his nose against Ana’s. 

Lacey had to clamp her lips together to keep from chucking up her champagne and canapés. 

Ana let out a tinkling little laugh, pecking Will on the lips. 

“Oh, stop, darling,” she said, lightly slapping him on the chest. “You need to get your sleep too. The last thing we need is you showing up to the wedding completely sleep deprived because you’ve stayed up until the wee hours all weekend, you night owl. Lacey, I’m sure you remember what he’s like.”

Suddenly all eyes swiveled from the happy couple to Lacey. It was Ana’s first public acknowledgment of Lacey’s status as Will’s ex. 

“Um, yeah,” Lacey said, unsure of where the conversation was headed. 

“But of course that was ages ago. I’m sure his habits may have changed as he matured.” 

Next to Ana, Will’s eyes widened, his head dipping almost imperceptibly into a nod. A clear sign she was meant to agree with Ana’s misconception. 

“Ages,” she repeated flatly. 

Will gave her another little nod. 

So, he still wasn’t being honest with his fiance. Lacey felt a bubble of anger rising up in her stomach to be in this position yet again. But never mind all that. She just had to get through the next couple of days. Then she could never see Will or Ana again. Then she could forget this whole horrid thing and, hopefully, move on to bigger and better commissions. Enough to get her own place. Enough to leave Storybrooke entirely. 

“Not so sure about matured, though,” Lacey couldn’t help the barb. “There’s something to be said for experience, after all, and Will is certainly lacking in that regard.” 

She turned to Rush still standing silently at her side, cupping his cheek with her hand before pulling him down for a kiss. His beard was scratchy beneath her palm, his lips parting in shock as she dipped her tongue into his mouth. His hand came up to cradle her waist, giving her a firm squeeze that also served to push her away slightly. 

Lacey stepped back, breaking the kiss as the other assembled guests looked around awkwardly.

“Anyway,” Ana continued brightly, “beauty sleep and all that. I’ll see you tomorrow at the luncheon, Lacey?” 

“Of course,” Lacey said, still wrong-footed from Rush’s reaction to her kiss.

Ana gave them all one last brilliant smile as Will walked her to the door. 

“I think that’s our cue, too,” Lacey said, downing the remnants of her champagne. Rush was tense beside her, and she needed to free him from this charade as soon as possible before he blew their whole cover. “Goodnight, everyone.” 

Rush followed her silently out of the diner and back out into the chilly spring evening.  

Rush was quiet on the short walk back to the B&B and Lacey was desperate for something to say to break the tension. Rush had been selling their fake relationship so well up until the end when he’d almost physically recoiled from her. It couldn’t just be the kiss. She’d kissed him before and while surprised, he’d seemed to enjoy it. 

They trudged up the stairs and to their shared room at the inn and Lacey couldn’t stand the idea of spending the night with someone who wasn’t speaking to her. 

Rush’s shoulders were hunched, his hands buried in his jeans pockets, his face inscrutable. He looked like that miserable man she’d first met in the bar in Boston weeks ago. 

“What’s the matter?” she blurted out once they were in their room. “I get the feeling I did something to upset you and I’d rather just know what it is.” 

Rush half turned to glance at her, not giving her the benefit of looking her full in the face.

“It’s nothing,” he said, his hands still stuffed in his pockets. 

“Please don’t do that,” Lacey said with a sigh. “Something you should know about me, I’m a frank person. I don’t play games and I don’t make you guess what I’m feeling. I’d prefer the same courtesy.” 

“Fine,” he said, spinning on his heel. “You made me uncomfortable tonight, are you happy?” 

Lacey just blinked. 

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. 

Rush shook his head. “Look, I know it’s technically what I’m here for, but having you stuff your tongue down my throat to upset your ex boyfriend’s new fiance at her wedding party felt ever so slightly morally reprehensible.” 

“So this is about Ana,” Lacey said, crossing her arms against her chest. “I suppose she’s got you in her thrall too already. And you’ve only just met her. I suppose it’s no surprise Will is ready to marry her after only a few months.” 

“This isn’t about Ana,” Rush countered. “Though she seems like a perfectly nice person and I'm unsure what she’s done to piss you off so badly.” 

Lacey didn’t have an answer for that. It wasn’t Ana’s fault. She hadn’t known of Lacey’s existence when she met and fell for Will. She hadn’t even known they’d ever dated until recently and she still didn’t know the extent of their past relationship. None of this was Ana’s fault. But she was just so bloody perfect. Lacey was used to being desired, to men finding her attractive. She’d never felt ugly until she stood next to Anastasia. She’d never been a jealous person until that striking blonde had showed up. She was wildly jealous of Anastasia, for everything she was and everything Lacey wasn’t. 

“I dated Will for four years,” she said. “And he broke out in hives at the hint of any sort of commitment whatsoever. He didn’t even go to Belle and Gold’s wedding with me because he was so freaked out by marriage as an institution. But he’s willing to marry her? Some girl he barely knows?” 

“You wanted to marry him,” Rush accused.

“No!” Lacey shot back. “I never even thought about it. If he’d ever asked I’d have laughed in his face. But having someone so soundly reject you stings. Forgive me if I think I’m owed the right to be a little salty about all this.”  

Rush took a deep breath before nodding. 

“Could you just not spring any more surprise kisses on me?” he asked, tentatively. “We can hold hands and dance and flirt, but no more of that. You made me feel…” he trailed off, seemingly unable to find an appropriate word.  

Lacey felt suddenly small, like the tiniest most insignificant person in the world. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “No more kissing. I’ve got it.” 

Rush gave her another stiff nod before going to the wardrobe and shrugging off his blazer to hang it there. 

That was the end of that, then. No kissing. No rubbing her “relationship” in Will’s face. Suddenly the weekend didn’t seem so fun. 

After a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up and change into her pajamas, Lacey found herself lying in bed beside Rush, the awkwardness between them almost unbearable. She wasn’t sure how to approach him now. She’d played too fast and loose and made him uncomfortable. He was a good man doing her a massive favor and she’d alienated him after an afternoon. She was a completely shit person. 

“I’m sorry,” she said aloud, unsure if Rush was even still awake on the other side of the bed with his back to her. “I really am.”

“I know,” he returned, his voice sleepy. “It’s alright.”

It wasn’t though. And she didn’t know how to make it so. 

“You’re an excellent kisser, by the way,” he said into the darkened room. “That’s not what this is about.” 

She stared at his back in the gloom, wondering where he was going with this.

“Thanks?” she said, her statement sounding like a question. 

Rush snorted a laugh. 

“I just didn’t want you getting the wrong idea,” he continued. “Under other circumstances…” he trailed off, letting the statement hang in the air. 

“Yeah,” Lacey agreed. 

She rolled over on the creaky mattress, putting her back to Rush. Maybe if Gold had set them up when they’d had no ulterior motives. Maybe if she’d been a fully functioning adult. Maybe…

Lacey drifted off to sleep on the thoughts of what might have been. 

[softmangoes]

how the LIs kiss

18+

pure!sydney's kisses are sweet, mouth soft and his tongue warm. he kisses you in the same way he savors the hard candies you'd slide over the library counter, slipping them into his hands just so your fingers could brush. when he pulls away, his glasses are foggy, a nervous smile on his face. "was that..." he says, blushing. "was that alright?"

corrupt!sydney's kisses are hungry. he's got his hands under your shirt and his tongue deep in your mouth. he's been waiting so patiently, after all, and now he finally has you to himself. "you taste divine, beloved." he says, fingers slipping under your waistband. when you sigh against his mouth, he smiles. "but i think it's time i have my dessert."

whitney's kisses hurt. they're full of teeth and bruises and blood and his nails digging crescents into your skin. whenever he crushes his lips to yours, he always makes sure to leave you aching. and like every fight you've had against him, you never come out unscathed. "there," he says, marveling at the fresh marks blooming along your neck. "now everyone will know whose slut you are."

kylar's kisses are desperate. his hands roam your skin as his mouth murmurs endless promises into the hollow of your neck. "we'll be together forever," he says, drunk on the scent of you. he presses his body to yours, eager to get closer, to envelope you in his embrace. to never, ever, let you go. "nothing will ever change that."

eden wastes no time when he kisses you. he has known the lean months of winter and the lonely days of fall. you cannot deny him the sweetness of spring. he bites into the curve of your neck like the first fruit of warmer days, licks at your lips to drink in your sweetness. but a hunter is always hungry, always wanting. "it's been a long day," he growls, deepening the kiss. when he takes your shirt in his hands, the fabric rips apart easily. "too long without you."

robin's kisses are warm. they're fingers running through your hair, a smile against your mouth. sunny days and lips that taste like fresh lemonade. he always laughs when he kisses you, like he can't believe he's doing this. like he can't believe he's yours. when he kisses you, the world is a little brighter. softer. "it's a beautiful day to be with you," he murmurs after he pulls away, pressing a peck to your cheek before taking your hand in his.

there is no way you can truly describe how the ivory wraith kisses you, but there is a note of familiarity to it. your mind conjures memories of kisses whispered in passing, of lips locked in darkened halls. "as sweet as ever," he hums, licking your lips with his cool tongue. "as sweet as always." the passing of centuries have done little else but make him yearn. the wraith, with his great and terrible beauty, kisses you like he's been waiting for you all this time.

[feelingthedisaster]

i think that as fandom, we should have more fics with this tag (x)

[something-nunholy]

Kind of obsessed with the fact that the EAH writers made both Snow White and the Evil Queen 'Live Laugh Love' wine moms, except they made Snow a 'Mommy has had a little wine' that becomes mean after a glass type of wine mom and they made the Evil Queen divorced crying over a framed picture of the child she never gets to see sad mom. Honestly, really iconic!

[mo-online]

TSC 2 IS CALLED THE GOLDEN RAVEN AND JEAN'S BIRTHDAY IS 11/9 TO MIRROR NEIL'S 1/19 BECAUSE THEY'RE CONNECTED EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP I CAN'T HANDLE THIS AT 3 AM

[magniloquent-raven]

this post has been haunting me. i'm weak for beefy men in pretty underwear and @theweewooshow left an open invitation in the tags that i could not resist 😭 i was gonna say i can't believe this is the first fic i'm posting about these two, but honestly it kind of tracks.

hope yall enjoy!!

**

One of the things Tommy's always liked about Evan is how emotional he is. Expressive, is the word, maybe. Vibrant. It was one of the first things he noticed when they met. Poor kid was radiating nerves. The way his hands fidgeted in his pockets, and he wouldn't stop pacing while Tommy was double-checking their gear.

It's kind of fascinating to Tommy, watching Evan light up when he's happy, wilt when he's tired, always seeming to feel every emotion with his entire body.

All that to say...Tommy notices right away that something's up. There's a tiny, reactive part of him that wants to say wrong, something's wrong, but Evan's not pulling away, he just. Froze up for a second. It could've been a twinge in his bad leg when he climbed into Tommy's lap, or any number of other blips that won't completely derail the nice evening they're having.

But on the off chance...

Tommy carefully rearranges his grip, settling his hands comfortably on the small of Evan's back instead. "Everything okay?" He keeps his tone as light as his touch, and watches Evan's expression closely. Their eyes meet only briefly.

"No, uh, yeah." Evan's gaze skitters down, roaming Tommy's face, then darting away. "I, um." He grimaces, and shifts in place. The warm weight of his thighs is distracting. He's still a solid presence in Tommy's lap, and making no move to change that, despite his sudden singular focus on toying with the drawstring of Tommy's sweater.

The corners of his mouth are pursed into a frown that Tommy thinks about kissing away. That thought gets gently pushed to the side. Talking first, he reminds himself. Especially because... "If you're not in the mood anymore, that's okay."

Those—pink, perfect, God—lips part around a huff, half-curved into a grin. "That's kind of the opposite of the problem," he laughs.

Tommy can't help but mirror the smile, even if it's only a tiny one. "So, what is the problem?" He trails his fingertips up the line of Evan's spine, and down again, retracing the path when he feels Evan lean into the touch.

"It's...well, not hard to explain, exactly, but. I kinda wasn't expecting to explain..." He sighs, loud and exaggerated, and falls forward to plant his face in the crook of Tommy's neck, where he continues, slightly muffled, "How do you feel about lace?"

It's not what he was expecting to hear. Though, he's not sure what he was expecting. "Can't say I've thought much about it, to be honest."

He dated a girl back in the day who liked lingerie. She was always asking him what he thought about various scraps of silk and velvet, and it was all...very awkward. He always told her he'd like her just as much in cheap cotton and a borrowed t-shirt, which. In retrospect, was ironically true. When she broke up with him she accused him of being cold. Withholding. He brushed it off as neediness on her part.

He suppresses a wince at the memory.

Evan wraps Tommy's drawstring around his index finger, slowly curling it around his knuckle. "My ex. Taylor. She liked it. She liked...me. In it."

...Oh?

He can't picture it. Not in a bad way, he's not put off by the idea—very much the opposite—but when he tries, the mental image just...blurs. His brain is trying to mesh Evan with his hazy memories of things he never paid much attention to, and it's coming up frustratingly empty.

Tommy is very proud of how calm and steady he sounds when he says, “And…this was something you liked too?”

Warm air tickles the underside of his jaw. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Why are you telling me this now?” He feels like there’s something he’s missing. Something obvious he should have realized, if only he wasn’t so preoccupied with the way Evan’s thighs are flexing, his hand sneaking under the hem of Tommy’s hoodie, skin-to-skin, palm skimming his side, and the hot, tingling press of mouth-on-neck.

“Wanna find out?”

The second he nods he almost wishes he hadn’t, because all at once Evan is gone, and Tommy’s left sitting on his couch in a horny daze, blinking up at his slyly grinning boyfriend. As nice as the view is, his lap is cold now.

Evan thumbs his waistband. There’s excitement sparkling in his eyes, bright and shining, but he hesitates a moment before taking a deep breath and dropping his shorts around his ankles.

Oh.

So…lace. Tommy’s having feelings about lace. Not much in the way of thoughts yet. But feelings, definitely. The sudden rush of heat that burns through him leaves him a little light-headed, all the blood in his veins fizzing like he’s a can of soda someone just popped the tab on. His fingers itch to reach out, he aches with want, desire pooling low in his gut.

Thing is, they’re not even anything too fancy, as far as Tommy can tell. He has vague memories of his ex—and good God does he suddenly feel like he owes her even more of an apology—in complicated woven ribbons and things that probably looked like a crate of bungee cords in whatever bag they came in. Evan is just wearing…panties. Simple, pale blue, lacy panties. There’s a little bow on the front, and it’s unreasonably cute.

Evan hikes up his t-shirt a little, so Tommy can get a better look, presumably. Which he appreciates. He’s losing his mind a little over the trail of light blond hair under his belly button disappearing into soft blue lace. He wants to follow it with his tongue.

The attention is making Evan hard. Tommy’s not sure what his face is doing exactly, but whatever it is, Evan seems to appreciate it. He’s filling out that pouch in the front so fucking well, it’s making Tommy’s mouth water.

“So, uh. Good?” Christ, he sounds breathless and Tommy hasn’t even touched him yet.

It takes all of Tommy’s willpower to drag his gaze up to Evan’s face, but it’s worth the effort. His cheeks are flushed a happy pink, creased by a grin he’s failing to restrain even with his bottom lip trapped by his teeth. The blue in his eyes is a nearly-invisible ring around his dilated pupils, and shadowed by his heavy-lidded expression.

“Evan,” he says, a little hoarse. It’s all he can say without laughing hysterically at the sheer understatement of good. Without telling Evan, in detail, exactly how badly he needs to suck him off through that fabric. How vividly he’s imagining what it would feel like against his own cock, wondering if he could cum just from rutting against Evan’s lace-clad ass while he squirms and begs to be fucked properly.

And more importantly, it’s all he needs to say.

The rest he can just show him.