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#raven's fic
abovethemists · 8 months
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The Worst That Could Happen - Chapter 5
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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. 
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ghostbsuter · 4 months
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"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."
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densewentz · 9 months
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Take Your Kid to Work Day (with Dream's decidedly more alarming version of an artist rendering their kid's drawing)
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ravenelyx · 4 months
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And somehow I'm both
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fishfingersandscarves · 2 months
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cries for 5 billion years about hounds by @xx-vergil-xx
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disc0bandit · 1 year
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Anyway, go and read My Stranger, My Dream by SigniorBenedickofPadua
'tis where this scene is from
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adamsrcnan · 1 month
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pre-pynch adam being unsurprised that ronan would be at his door in the middle of the night just gets me every damn time. like i need to know how that first time went.
the surprise of ronan standing there sullen and looking a little lost. the awkwardness of the cramped space and these two boys trying to fit in it.
ronan saying or doing something that would make adam sigh or roll his eyes. the falling into comfortable silence. ronan throwing himself onto adam's mattress, kicking off his boots and flipping open a text book as if he intended to read it.
adam side eyeing this action. their eyes locking. adam, eye brow raised. ronan, giving back a dead stare (because in that moment he wants to scream at the intimacy of everything so instead he has to pretend he feels NOTHING)
adam shaking his head and carrying on with his studies. ronan dozing off to adam's pen scratching on his notebook. adam kicking his leg later telling him to move he needs to sleep. ronan ungracefully rolling off the mattress onto the floor beside it. adam's scoff as he says "nice lynch" before laying down. (doesn't escape adam's notice that it's warm now and smells like feathers and leather. smells like ronan).
ronan snatching up a hoodie of adam's and balling it up under his head. adam throwing his arm over his eyes and losing himself in sleep immediately. ronan staring up at the ceiling listening to adam's breathing (he's so quiet he could be dead) and then turning his gaze to adam's face and his hand just shy of the edge of the mattress. (he can see the callouses in the moonlight, the faint stains of oil adam couldn't get out, the little pen ink marks) ronan sighing deeply before turning away and muttering "night parrish"
and then the second, third, and fourth times it happens. ronan dreaming up a better set of pillows for adam bc "your hoodies suck ass parrish" and "you have your own bed lynch" and ronan snarling in response and not saying anything back.
like i'm sorry i can't believe maggie just dropped that casual fact into the story TWICE. once from ronan and once from adam and then just never let us see it happen ever and expected me to not lose my mind over it
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alexandriaellisart · 21 days
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team meeting
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medeaaasworld · 14 days
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So I was skimming through the aftg series (again) and I caught myself thinking that I don't see the feud between Neil and Aaron?? Like— there's no obvious hatred between them??? Sure thing, Aaron's pissed that Neil uses Katelyn against him — and who wouldn't be? But he is pleased with Neil’s reaction to his words about Neil using his brother as an easy fuck after learning about Drake — that's not him hating Neil, that's him checking if Neil's safe for Andrew. And after he's made sure, he no longer cares about a certain redhead slash his brother's love interest.
Neil, on the other hand, couldn't care less about Aaron from the beginning. He says so himself.
I think the point of this little take is that I just don't get why so many fanfics picture either Aaron (if talking from Neil's perspective) or Neil (if it's Aaron's POV) as bitches....
Once again, I was just skimming through the books in order to check some things to make my own fanfiction more accurate, so I might have not noticed some details, but I think the whole hatred thing is a bit exaggerated
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ravencincaide · 1 month
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How do you want it
Summary: Dazai has gotten you many presents, and has been generous enough to let you pick which one you wanted to try first. But it was best your hurried, or else he’d pick one for you. 
Pairing: Fem! reader x Dazai Osamu  
Warnings: Mature content minors DNI!
This fic/drabble contains: 
Use of sexual toys, mention of oral (female receiving), use of cuffs, inexperienced nervous reader with very experienced Dazai. 
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“Come now belladonna, if you keep me waiting I’ll just have to decide for you” 
His singsong voice sent shivers  up and down your spine. Butterflies- no anxious and excited snakes played ping pong in your stomach. You bit your lip, holding back a gasp as you felt him draw nearer. Hot breath hit the base of your neck, arms on either side of you, ever so often he brushed them up against yours. Hairs raised on your arms with each touch; goosebumps on your skin gave your arousal away. 
Traitorous body. 
You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he hummed closer; as he caged you in between his chest and the array of ‘gifts’ he had so thoughtfully laid out on the table. “ Well my belle?” Dazai trailed the shell of your ear with his lips, then nipped ever so slightly on your earlobe. You gasped- your perfect mask of disinterested control, not so perfect anymore. Another nip, then smirking lips landed on your cheek. 
A mocking sweet touch- a taunting kiss.
“ Now that we’ve established you’re interested in my Valentine night suggestions, why not pick the ones you fancy” Dazai chuckled and made an exaggerated motion towards the table once more. All covered in pink and red and white erotic simulators and their likes. Few reasonable- many far beyond what you had seen, let alone tested. 
“ We did not establish anything, I am not–” Dazai grasped your hand in his and trailed it over the phallic appendages, purposefully wrapping your hand around the largest- monstrous sized dildo. The thing you couldn’t even grasp with one hand- let alone push inside you. “ -Maybe this one bella?”
 Before you could reply he moved your hand towards the rabbit vibrator still inside its newly purchased special edition box.
 “ Or this inside you, taking you to highs of pleasure while wearing these-” Dazai purred as his hand left yours and grasped the skimpy underwear made of actual candy. The devil's grin was back- you caught a glimpse of it as Dazai leaned back to your ear, as if sharing a secret he didn’t want anyone to hear. And yet his voice was loud- so loud anyone passing by his office would be able to hear him; “ Imagine donna; the rabbit inside you while I eat these off your gushing pussy, one candy at a time. With you being the ultimate desert” 
 His body pushed up against you, hard cock against the cushion of your ass. The clothes doing little to hide his desperate need; the carnal desire that could barely wait until the work days end. Dazai pushed himself firmer against you, almost rutting the soft flesh. Scratch waiting until tonight- you’d be surprised if he could hold himself through his next meeting without either skipping it or doing something indecent under the table. 
“ Maybe we should check that they fit you, sweetheart?” Dazai’s lips were on your neck, his teeth assaulting the delicate skin. Not giving you time to think, to pick, to consider- just time to feel. 
“ The c-cuffs” you gasped out in between moans, finally picking your gift. The words made Dazai freeze- pause as if he did not expect that answer. Then he raised his head, the look in his eyes sadistically lust filled. 
“ I agree belladonna,let's add the cuffs to this delicious mix!” 
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Author note: Happy naughty Valentines day! I hope this fic fills your mind with all sorts of ideas! Stay tuned for another fic update in four hours.
Hope you enjoyed ❤️
Like this work and want more? Check out Raven's Masterlist
©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!
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that-vampire-loser · 29 days
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Pro aaron neil friendship forever
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abovethemists · 11 months
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Tea and Roses
Summary: Two months after moving away from Storybrooke, Belle receives a surprise visitor. The conclusion to priest!Gold fic, Brimstone and Mistletoe.
A/N: This was supposed to be posted for Fluffapalooza, but *shrug emoji*. 
AO3 Link
*
The whistle on the kettle trilled through the small apartment, and Belle rushed to take it off the burner. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Gideon was alright. He let out a happy little squeal from his spot on the rug, waving the little soft crinkle book in his fist.
Belle let out a sigh, pouring the hot water from her kettle over the teabag in her mug. It was a Sunday morning, and she was trying to do something she hadn’t done in ages: relax.
She left the tea to steep, going back to the living room to sit next to Gideon. He wasn’t much for tummy time, but the pediatrician said it was important for his future development. He seemed content for the moment though, so Belle leaned back against the sofa at her back, watching her son.
Gideon rolled himself onto his back, giving Belle a gummy smile and her heart clenched. At five months old, he was starting to look so much like his father. His eyes had darkened from newborn blue to an achingly familiar warm brown. The little dimples that blossomed on his cheeks when he smiled, the soft brown color of his hair, every bit of it screamed who his father was to anyone paying attention. It was part of the reason Belle had moved to Boston in the first place.
Only part of the reason though. It was true that Storybrooke had seemed a colder place once it became impossible to hide her pregnancy. But even that hadn’t driven Belle from Maine.
She just couldn’t stay there. She couldn’t catch his eye across the street, she couldn’t see him in the shops or at the diner, and pretend he meant nothing to her. She was sure her face betrayed her anytime they did happen upon one another. It was why she’d stopped going to church. It was why she’d avoided him. She would ruin him, and she loved him too much for that.
Belle leaned down to press a kiss to Gideon’s chubby little cheek before helping him to roll back on to his tummy.
“We’re not done yet, Gid,” she chastised him gently. Gideon let out a little fuss and Belle moved a few of his favorite toys in front of him to distract him. Then she took the five steps to the kitchen to fetch her tea.
The apartment wasn’t much, just a one bedroom flat and even that was stretching her paycheck to its limit. They’d need a bigger place as Gideon grew, but for now it was enough. He slept in a little cot beside her bed, and Belle liked the excuse to keep him so close. She wished she could provide her son with a beautiful nursery, filled with fluffy stuffed animals and cute pictures on the walls. But she was afraid she’d never be able to provide him with material luxuries. She’d go to the ends of the earth to keep him healthy and happy though. And she could offer all the love in the world.  
Perhaps they wouldn’t stay long in Boston. They could always move on to some other small town with a lower cost of living. Her heart twisted at the thought. For now, at least, Father Gold knew where they were. If they moved on further, she’d never hear from him again.
Not that she expected to hear from him. Even in her wildest flights of fancy, she couldn’t imagine it. He’d told her he loved her, but he’d let her go. He’d made his choice, and she had to live with it. No matter how she wished their circumstances were different, she was well aware he was unavailable the night they’d fallen into bed together. She’d made a choice as well.
Belle blew across the surface of her tea, tossing the bag in the kitchen wastebasket. Gideon had lifted himself up on his hands, getting his whole top half off the floor. Belle glanced around the cramped apartment, at all the potential hazards of pointed furniture edges and electrical outlets. Gideon would be crawling soon and it was high time to babyproof further. That was a problem for tomorrow Belle, however.
Instead, she flipped the TV on, a commercial for a jeweler filling the screen and reminding Belle of the upcoming holiday. Valentine’s Day was in two days, not that Belle had any special plans. Gideon was too young for candy hearts and sweets, though she looked forward to celebrating holidays with him as he got older, and she certainly didn’t have any other Valentine’s. Her co-worker, Tevin, had invited her out for drinks, but she’d politely turned him down saying she’d never be able to find a sitter at such late notice. It was almost comical the way Tevin’s eyes widened, his face falling at the realization she was a mother. Even if Belle’s heart had been remotely available, she was sure Gideon would scare away most men. Being a single mother of a baby so young almost certainly led people to believe there was a very recent ex in the picture, sharing custody and hanging around all the time. That wasn’t the case for Belle, but she didn’t feel the need to over explain her situation to anyone.
So Belle was planning to spend the night alone, perhaps she’d splurge on a bottle of wine and watch a Jane Austen adaptation on TV. She could imagine a world where Mr. Darcy or Captain Wentworth or Mr. Knightley swept her off her feet. And, if they all seemed to morph into the same man, with sad brown eyes and a weary little smile, she’d just go to bed early and try to forget about him.
It was no fun having a broken heart on Valentine’s Day. It was even less fun when you’d broken your heart yourself. She didn’t blame Father Gold for any of this. It had been her doing. She had kissed him first. She had seduced him. She had let her stupid little crush run wild and now she was here with the consequences. Not that she’d ever consider Gideon to be a burden. He was the very best thing that had ever happened to her.
But Father Gold couldn’t uproot his life over her mistake. He would lose his job, his community, everything he had ever known. Belle was used to being on her own. She had been since she broke off her engagement back in Australia, not hearing a peep from her father since. She could do this on her own too.
Gideon had rolled on to his back again and she put her tea down on the coffee table before scooping him up, balancing him on her hip.
“Had enough?” she asked.
Gideon just babbled happily at her, reaching one chubby fist out to wrap in her hair, giving it a painful yank.
“Ouch!” she exclaimed, and Gideon’s eyes widened. “No pulling hair, sweet thing!”
She bent to kiss his little neck and he giggled uncontrollably. He was so ticklish. She wondered if it was something else he’d inherited from his father like his eyes and his dimples, and assumed she’d never know.
There was a knock on the door and Belle set Gideon on the floor once more, raking a hand through her tangled hair. She was a fright, unshowered and dressed in her favorite pair of leggings that were starting to pill on the thighs, and an oversized t-shirt. But there wasn’t one single person she was trying to impress in Boston, so there was no harm in answering the door. It was probably just Mrs. Howe from next door come to yell at her again that the TV was on too loud for nine in the morning.
She threw the apartment door open, looking out into the hall expectantly, but there was no miserable old lady in house slippers waiting for her. Instead her heart stuttered to a stop at the person on her doorstep.
“Father Gold,” she said, her shock turning to confusion.
He had a dozen roses clenched in one hand, a gift wrapped box wedged beneath his other arm. He looked as dazed as she felt, his dark eyes raking over her face as though desperate for the sight.
“Belle,” he said breathily.
“What,” she paused to swallow, needing to wet her suddenly dry throat. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, these are for you,” he said, holding out the flowers in his hand. Belle took them instinctively.
“They’re beautiful,” she said with a small smile, taking in the crimson blooms. “But you came all the way to Boston to give me flowers on February the 12th?”
Father Gold looked down self-deprecatingly, shifting his feet with uncertainty.
“No, no,” he said, glancing up at her from beneath a curtain of his dark hair. “I’ve, um, recently moved.”
“Here,” she repeated stupidly. “To Boston?”
“Yes,” he agreed, his cheeks tinging slightly pink. “Is that alright?”
Belle shook her head, trying to wrap it around the fact that Father Gold was here, at her apartment, hours away from Storybrooke. It was incongruous. Like seeing a teacher outside of school as a child.
“Of course,” she said finally. “You can move anywhere you like. Did you transfer to a new church?”
She wasn’t sure what this all meant. If he’d followed her to Boston it didn’t really change anything. He was still unavailable. He still couldn’t acknowledge Gideon as his son. Did he expect her to be his mistress? Like some renaissance era cardinal, fathering bastard after bastard? A little flame of anger, something she hadn’t felt in all this time, flared to life in her belly. Would he really keep her from finding happiness? She wouldn’t keep him from his son, but if her heart was to heal, they needed to keep their distance.
Gold just shook his head, a sad little smile crossing his features.
“May I come in?” he asked, glancing behind her into her apartment.
“Okay,” she agreed, stepping back. It wasn’t as if anything untoward could happen with Gideon lying on the living room rug after all.
Father Gold stepped inside, glancing around before his eyes fell on Gideon, his whole face softening at the sight of his son. The baby boy had rolled on to his back, finally giving up on tummy time for good, and was thrashing his stuffed bunny around almost violently.
“He’s getting big,” Gold said sadly.
“Yeah,” Belle agreed. “90th percentile for height at his last doctor’s appointment. No idea how that happened.”
“He certainly didn’t get it from me,” Gold agreed.
Belle found a vase beneath her kitchen sink, arranging the roses in it and setting it on her small dining table. Then she turned back to face Gold who was still staring at Gideon with a look of wonder on his face.
“So, what brought you to town, Father?” she asked.
He startled at being addressed and his eyes snapped over to Belle.
“Not Father, not anymore,” he said, laying the gift box he’d been holding beside the flowers.
It was then that Belle noticed his change of dress. He was still wearing dark slacks and a black blazer, but the black shirt and clerical collar were gone. In their place was a black and white checkered button down shirt she’d never seen him in before. In fact, she’d never seen him out of his collar or vestments, except for the one time she’d seen him in nothing at all. The night they’d made Gideon.
“What?” she asked, breathlessly.
Gold spread his hands wide.
“I quit,” he said.
Belle’s eyes bulged.
“You can do that?”
Gold nodded. “It’s called laicization. I requested to leave the clergy and it was granted. The church doesn’t really want you to stay if you don’t want to be there. It’s a calling, not a career.”
“Oh,” Belle said, her head spinning. He’d left the church. He was free . And he was here, in her kitchen.
There were few times in Belle’s life where she’d ever been anyone’s first choice. The idea that Father Gold, or Mister Gold, had given up so much for her, was a heady one.
His eyes turned back to Gideon on the floor and Belle felt a dawning realization. It wasn’t for her.
She bit her lip, tamping down her disappointment. She refused to be jealous of her own child. It was stupid, and fruitless.
“What will you do instead?” she asked, going to the burner where the kettle was still warming and preparing a cup of tea for her guest. It was the least she could do.
“I’ve always been handy,” he said, flexing the hands in question. “I got a job at an antique shop doing restoration work. And I have an apartment, and a roommate named Macavoy, another former priest like me.”
“You sound like you have it all figured out,” she said, her voice high and thin. She swallowed, trying not to be caught up in her emotions.  
“Not at all,” Gold said with a laugh. “I’m quite out of my depth here, Belle. But I knew I couldn’t stay in Storybrooke without you. I knew I could never be fully committed to the church and my community when my heart was longing to be here, with the two of you.”
Belle returned to the kitchen table, handing Gold a cup of tea which he accepted gratefully.
“The two of us?” she repeated, not able to meet his eyes.
“You and Gideon,” he said with a little shake of his head. “My family.”
“So it’s…” she trailed off, not daring to finish her question. That he hadn’t done all this just for Gideon. If he had, it would be enough. The fact that he loved their son enough to abandon everything he’d ever known only made her love him all the more.
“When did you leave?” she asked instead. “Storybrooke, I mean.”
“Well, I requested laicization the day after Christmas,” he said, taking a little sip of his tea.  
Belle shook her head again.
“The last time we spoke,” she began. “On Christmas Eve, you seemed so conflicted.”
He placed his teacup down on the kitchen table before rounding it to stand directly before her. Belle couldn’t help but meet his eyes now, honey brown in the morning light streaming through her windows.
“I was,” he agreed. “It’s a terrifying thing to give up the only life you’ve ever known.”
Belle sighed, stepping back from him.
“I never wanted you to have to choose,” she said, crossing her arms against her chest. She hadn’t meant to give him an ultimatum. She just wanted to tell him where she was going.  
“It’s not a choice,” he said, cupping her face with his hands, forcing her eyes back to his. “Belle, I love you. Nothing beyond that really seemed to matter.”
A little sob managed to escape Belle’s throat and Gold pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. She buried her face in his checkered shirt, clinging to him.
He loved her. He was here in Boston for her. It was as though she’d been repressing her emotions for too long and the months of sadness could finally be expressed.
“I love you too,” she managed to get out between ragged gasps. “I love you so much I can’t breathe. I left Storybrooke because it was too painful being so near to you and yet so far.”
“It was agony for me too,” Gold said, placing kisses against the top of her head, his hand rubbing over her back. “I kept expecting you to find someone else, to fall in love. I could have lived with that, if you were happy. But you never seemed happy.”
“How could I move on from you?” she asked, looking up at him with her tear streaked face. “Even if it was a sin.”
Gold shook his head, his hand coming up to wipe away her tears.  
“Loving you could never be a sin, but abandoning you, never knowing my own child, living a lie? That’s the real sin.”
He glanced longingly at Gideon, still playing on the living room rug.
“And it’s not exactly uncommon. The main reason priests request to leave the priesthood is because they fall in love, so they can marry.”
Belle’s eyes widened and Gold quickly released her, throwing his hands up. “Not that I’m asking you to marry me,” he said with a quick shake of his head. “But I would like to ask you on a date, if you’re free. I’ve never had a Valentine before.”
“You’ve made a good start of it,” she said, “with the flowers.”
“Is that a yes then?” he said, a shy smile crossing his handsome face. She wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt.
“Well, dating is a little more complicated these days,” she said with a glance at Gideon.
“We don’t have to go anywhere,” he said with a quick shake of his head. “We can stay here and order pizza. Anything you want. I just want to spend time with you, with both of you.”
“Okay,” Belle agreed, a smile finally working its way across her face. “Then it’s a date.”
A matching smile crossed Gold’s face, a true one the likes of which she’d never seen on him.
He tipped her face up with his forefinger, placing a gentle lingering kiss to her lips. Belle gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and deepening the kiss. She could kiss him now, here, or on the street, in view of God and everyone. There were no rules being broken, no reason to hide in shame. He was just Mr. Gold, father to no one but Gideon.
She smiled as she kissed him, her heart so full she thought it might burst. Perhaps this wouldn’t be such a terrible Valentine’s Day after all.  
They finally broke apart, gasping for breath, their foreheads pressed together. Belle smoothed her hands down Gold’s chest.
“I like the new shirt,” she said with a little giggle. “Very handsome.”
“Thank you very much,” he said, a little sarcastically. “I’ll admit I haven’t had to shop for clothing in some time. My wardrobe could probably use a woman’s touch.”
“Then I’ll have to take you shopping,” she agreed.
“Oh, speaking of, I brought Gideon a gift,” he said, grabbing the gift box off the kitchen table. “It’s a blanket. I knitted it myself. It’s nothing special, I just…”
Belle cut him off with another brief kiss, her hand trailing through the hair at his nape.
“Do you want to meet your son?” she asked when they pulled apart.
“More than anything,” he agreed.
She entwined her fingers with Gold’s pulling him with her to the living room. Then she scooped Gideon up, handing him carefully over to Gold. He handled the baby expertly, cradling him against his chest. Gideon looked up at his father with inquisitive dark eyes.
“This is your Papa, Gideon,” Belle said, tears springing to her eyes as she said the words. “And you’re going to be seeing a lot more of him now.”
“I’m your Papa,” Gold repeated. “And I’m here to stay.”
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saintbennetts · 1 year
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I love angst and I love pain but I cannot read "Neil died in Baltimore" fics. they genuinely make me sick to my stomach because he just didn't deserve it. he did not deserve to die terrified and alone and nameless. He deserved a life. a family. a future.
And Andrew? God. It would have destroyed him. He would have blamed himself for releasing Neil from their deal. He did not deserve to lose the one person who could pull him back from the edge. After everything he went through? fuck that.
It's too much. AFTG might be a mess but at least we got a happy ending. I cannot stomach the alternative.
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densewentz · 4 months
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Dreamling Dads!AU commission for @aurelia-which-means-sunrise! Matthew is a wretched cookie thief and Tulip is very territorial of her batch 💕 (This is also NOT the first time Dream's been floured during this whole baking debacle and to be honest he's starting to suspect they're not as "accidental" as Kian seems to want him to believe) I can't thank you enough for such a fun comm, and with my baby Kian!!
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deklo · 4 months
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Please.
one of my all-time fav scenes in one of my all-time fav fics magnetic by @mychemicalrachel ♡ ♡ ♡
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theaceace · 3 months
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Another old fic idea that stalled somewhere between my brain and my docs, in which Hob puts centuries of life experience to use by writing an anonymous advice column (it's probably Jo's fault somehow) and recently he's been getting some... Odd submissions
My brother has recently left a very stifling living situation and is drowning himself in work. I know his pride won't let him come to me for help, but I want to let him know I'm still there for him, what do you suggest? - Endless Family Drama
It can be difficult to watch the people we love most refuse to accept our help, especially when we can see that they're hurting. The best advice I can offer you is don't push him too hard – the last thing you want to do is scare him away! Spend time with him doing something you both enjoy or rediscovering common ground, and let him come to you when he's ready. Encourage him to find the person he was before all of this, and start learning how that fits with who he is now; reconnect with old friends or pick up a hobby he hasn't tried for a while. Clearly you love your brother a great deal, and whether he's ready to admit it or not, he's lucky to have you in his corner.
Chin up, and best of luck to you both!
And what do you know, that afternoon Death happens to go find her brother feeding the pigeons.
Matthew (with Rose's help, typing is really hard when you're a bird, turns out) after a conversation with Lucienne and later a complain-and-smoke-sesh with Constantine, writes in (not knowing he's writing to the boss's friend) like
I've just started a new job, and my boss is literally a nightmare when he's in a bad mood, he drags me to hell and back, spends all his time moping and fighting with my other boss, and won't listen to any of my advice, how do I let him know I think he's being unreasonable - struggling to keep my beak shut
Eventually Dream - who is both spending much more time in the waking world and also much more inclined to listen to Matthew's advice recently, for some reason - decides to write in to ask the opinion of a human on how to. Well. How one might go about courting one of their oldest friends having just reconnected after a huge fight and period of separation.
So naturally, Hob's reply is somewhat wistful and based entirely on the way he would love to court/be courted by his old stranger (Dream! Morpheus! He's been given so many names and titles to use now, he's practically spoilt!)
Neither of them figure out what's going on for an embarrassingly long time
(Desire writes to ask how you get your brother to stop ignoring you after you've tricked him into prison ('captivity' is the word used, but Hob can read between the lines) and almost made him kill one of their relatives. Hob starts to question if this side career is a good idea)
Also, the tagline for his column would absolutely be something like I keep making the same mistakes so you don't have to! Somehow this does not clue Dream in in the slightest
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