#she CERTAINLY never would've gone missing in the house let me tell you that

[britneyshakespeare]

i have a lot of dreams where i 1) impulsively adopt an animal i shouldn’t be adopting and/or 2) have already adopted an animal i have forgotten about but suddenly remember and/or 3) an animal i have not had for a long time is dusty and sick lying behind or underneath some large object in my house and i take it out from under there, it’s on the edge of death and i have to save it while coping with the fact that i’ve been such an irresponsible animal owner

[thestraggletag]

Ties of Blood, aka the Rumbelle cursed!faux!incest, Part Two

Summary: There’s nothing more tragic than ripping two lovers apart, except piecing the broken pieces together wrong. Never say the Evil Queen doesn’t know about revenge.

Rating: NC-17

Part One here.

Hey, it only took me FOUR YEARS to put up part Two! This fic will likely have four parts so I'll be finished before the decade's over.

Enjoy the big cliffhanger at the end of this chapter!

She figured it out seconds before Miss Swan blurted it out to the entire assembly, too late to make a hasty and discreet retreat. She forced herself to look relaxed and betray no emotion as Emma confessed the truth.

"The fire was a setup. Mr. Gold agreed to support me in this race, but I didn’t know that that meant he was going to set a fire. I don’t have definitive evidence, but I’m sure. And the worst part of all this was - the worst part of all this is - I let you all think it was real. And I can’t win that way. I’m sorry."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw her brother stand up and slowly walk away, understanding that he'd avoided sitting next to her because he knew what would happen. Knew Emma Swan enough to predict exactly how she'd react, down to her spontaneous confession. It was terrifying, how he could do that. And it was terrifying, for a whole lot of different reasons, how much he seemed to already know Miss Swan. How he could get inside her head so easily.

Once he was gone she felt some people turn their attention towards her, and it took all she had not to acknowledge it, to pretend she didn't notice it. As soon as she could, however, she slipped out of the hall, hastening home. She felt a sad sort of relief to find the house dark and quiet, Rabbie having retired to his room early for the night, allowing her to do the same and be alone with her thoughts. And they centred around Emma Swan and Mayor Mills, the two women who seemed to hold her brother's interest. It was difficult to tell which one he seemed to favour, and she could see either as being his preference. On the one hand he seemed to be doing the impossible to try and keep Emma Swan in town, toying with her in a way that could easily be interpreted as flirting, but on the other his hatred of Regina bordered on obsession, and could have easily been hiding a deep attraction. She was certainly privy to a side of him Rabbie fought to hide from Belle herself. Besides, the mayor had a dangerous sort of beauty that she could understand would be attractive to someone like her brother. Things were getting out of control, were escalating. A fire was too much to ignore, to excuse.

The days after the fire and the election were filled with the tense silence of things unspoken, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Though neither mentioned it Belle heard about clandestine meetings in the woods with the mayor and unexpected acts of kindness towards the sheriff, including the exchange of information- something Rabbie priced highly- in exchange for "tolerance".

Though she had told herself that she would've been happy if his brother decided to pursue Emma Swan she wasn't sure of it now. But she should try to embrace it, try to see the positive side of it. It was good of Rabbie to take an interest in someone new, good for him to interact more with people. When she expressed a wish to invite either woman for dinner, however, he seemed set against it, as if he found the idea distasteful.

"It's just... you seem to have so many things in common with both women, Rabbie. I thought inviting either for dinner would make a nice change from lonely nights with the town lunatic."

Her brother banged a closed fist on the table, startling her into dropping her cutlery. He seemed contrite as soon as he saw the scared expression on her face, reaching out with that same hand to take one of hers.

"Do not refer to yourself as that. Please. You're not... you're not crazy."

She wished she could agree, but she knew there was something wrong with her. She had dreams sometimes, strange and elusive and unsettling, and often she'd be hit by a sense of wrongness in the middle of the day, as if the world around her... wasn't real. Certain people also made her feel strange, like Maurice French. There was something about him that made her strangely nostalgic and yearning. The mayor, on the other hand, terrified her, and she didn't very well know why. But it was a cold, visceral sort of fear, deep and inexplicable. And her brother... Well, of course she loved him, but sometimes that love felt... wrong. In ways she didn't really want to explore at all.

It was happening more and more, which in turn had her feeling more and more like the little girl trapped in the asylum she'd once been. And like she'd deserved to be there.

"I'm sorry. I know you worry. And I don't want you to, I want you to... enjoy yourself. Mingle a bit more. Perhaps take the new sheriff for a drink or two, now that things seem to be better between you."

He looked puzzled, as if it had never occurred to him to view Miss Swan in a romantic light. Then again her brother was good about lying to himself when the mood struck him, it was altogether very possible he was in denial.

"You're seeing things, dear."

Belle chuckled, a mirthless sort of sound.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Without Graham to go to for some peace when things got to be too much Belle got into the habit of visiting his grave to bring fresh flowers and sit awhile to enjoy the peace and quiet. Her brother had thoughtfully seen fit to install a wooden bench, Marco's handiwork judging by the simple elegance of the design. Unwilling to go visit her friend empty-handed she became a regular visitor of Game of Thorns. The flower shop was poorly kept and Moe French looked like a man who could barely keep things running or his life together, but there was a sort of dignity about the man, the shadow of something great that had faded away with time. His flower arrangements were certainly beautiful, and his merchandise well cared-for.

Though he was wary of her at first her sunny disposition soon had him warming up to her and once she expressed her interest in flowers he became a veritable chatterbox. Every time she stopped by he'd have a new flower arrangement for her, taking great pains to tell her interesting tidbits about the flowers. She got used to stopping by with something to share, muffins or cookies or anything else she might easily carry in a tupper, once she realised the florist seldom remembered to eat during the day. He spoke, sometimes, of his wife- Belle hadn't known he was a widower- and how she'd been the one with the business sense, a force of nature that had kept the house and the shop running smoothly and profitably. He'd tried to emulate her efforts after she passed away, but he'd quickly found himself overwhelmed by daily life.

"I'm just no good outside a greenhouse, it seems. Plants come easy to me... Everything else usually becomes too much."

For some reason, she felt the overwhelming need to fuss about his clothes and his eating habits, though she knew that would imply far too much familiarity. Moe French was a gruff sort of person, and she was nothing but a glorified customer. He did seem not to mind her intrusions on his time, cheering up when she entered the shop and not at all eager, it seemed, to send her away.

Once, after a particular rotten day- she'd woken in the middle of the night with the remnants of some sort of horrible dream about her and made her way to her brother's room only to find him gone, and nothing had quite gotten better after that- he'd offered to show her to his greenhouse, which was fascinating. A large portion of it was occupied by rows of hydrangeas.

"It was my wife's favourite flower. Funny, some days I can hardly remember her face, but I've never forgotten she loved hydrangeas."

For some reason it didn't surprise her to find the late Mrs French had also favoured hydrangeas. It certainly explained why the flower shop always kept them in stock and in such an array of colours. Belle had thought perhaps that the florist did it to curry favour, to try to appease her brother come rent day, give him a reason to be lenient. She rather liked the more romantic explanation, it made the flowers seem less mercenary. And it fit her newfound understanding of Moe French as a man who'd loved fiercely and lost, who was hopeless at anything remotely business-related- something her brother often commented on, in a far less diplomatic manner- but made the most beautiful flower arrangements imaginable and spent a lot of his time talking to his plants in his greenhouse, claiming it helped them grow.

Changes were definitely happening, and though Belle could have done without a lot of them she rather liked some others.

He hated it. Couldn't quite tell why, but he hated it. Somehow the florist had always rubbed him the wrong way, for no apparent reason. He was a snivelling, barely-functional excuse of a man, with the worst business sense he'd ever seen, who saw fit to blame all of his woes on others. Granted, he was not the only person in Storybrooke Gold was less than impressed with, but there was something about him, something special that pushed his dislike into outright, seething hate. Being in the florist's presence for long tended to make him violent, to fill him up with an inexplicable rage.

Belle's soft spot for the old man made him strangely apprehensive and anxious. It felt almost as if he thought Moe was dangerous for his sister, like he wished to do her harm, which he knew wasn't true. In the past, however, that awful feeling in the pit of his stomach had not been recurring, since Belle crossed paths with Mr French only seldomly. The flowers that decorated their home were picked up by him or, more often, by Dove, his only employee. The library and the flowershop were far enough away from each other and Moe French wasn't into reading anything longer than a magazine. Gold doubted he even had a library card.

But after Graham died Belle had acquired the habit of visiting his grave, often bringing with her a bouquet to place near the headstone. Which meant she was suddenly visiting the flower shop often and that set his teeth on edge. Especially when it became clear his sister was taking a genuine interest in the florist and he seemed to be responding in kind. Belle had never given him the impression of wanting a father figure. They had both tacitly agreed, once they'd been reunited, that each was all the family the other needed. He didn't like the notion that he wasn't enough, that he'd failed somehow, in some way he couldn't fathom. That he was lacking.

Moe was a lonely man, who likely found himself nearing retirement and dealing with the regrets of a life half-lived. He had a vague notion that he'd once been married, long ago, but there had been no kids, and later on his wife had passed away, leaving him all alone. A man with no family, with no friends, with very little in the way of a future. He could understand that someone like that might start to covet things that weren't his, things he desired. For some reason the idea that Moe might actually have... an unseemly interest in his sister had never crossed his mind. Man was no lecher, which might easily be his one and only virtue. But he did have some sort of interest in Belle, man lit up whenever she was around and became someone capable of carrying a conversation and not simply grunting. He'd tell her about plants as if they were a fascinating subject and, much to his chagrin, it led to botany books joining Belle's multiple book piles around the house. Books were how Belle best expressed herself, and so he'd learned to read the book piles. Victoria Holt novels when she was feeling down and needed a bit of romance with a twist, Agatha Christie when she was feeling bored with the quiet daily life of Storybrooke, Cortazar for when her mood was dark and strange and she needed stories to match and so on. Everything new that caught her eye would eventually end up in the piles and, over the years, he'd been their biggest influence. Law review books when he was handling a tricky case, art history books to learn more about whatever big project he was working on, even the odd medical journal whenever there was an interesting or relevant article about physical therapy for people with his sort of injury. To see a bit of Moe French in the piles set him on edge.

He tried to tell himself when rent day came along that he wasn't taking any sick pleasure from running the numbers and discovering that French was a whopping three hundred and fifty bucks short. Told himself that he was simply following protocol when he called Dove to provide muscle protection as he prepared to seize the florist's collateral, his van. So what if he'd perversively and carefully picked out what he was wearing that day, down to the paisley purple and silver tie? It simply meant he knew the power of appearances.

He told himself over and over he was in the right, preparing the arguments in his head to tell Belle once she, without a doubt, went off on him for it. He rehearsed them over and over and was in the process of reciting them in his head for the seventh time as he approached his house when he noticed the front door open. It was too soon for Belle to have closed the library and made her way home so his guard was immediately up. Once he made his way inside he reached for the Walter PPK he kept near the front door, removing the safety quickly as his eyes surveyed the living room, already noticing some valuables missing, as well as things strewn about, clear evidence of a robbery.

The appearance of Miss Swan a few seconds later, far from welcomed, put a damper on the plans already forming in his head. It was too much of a coincidence, being robbed the same day he'd moved against Moe French. This had all the markings of French's brand of sloppiness, down to the many expensive items he'd left behind because they weren't glittering baubles. He wouldn't have guessed anyone else was involved if he hadn't noticed a particular object missing. It was a small, insignificant thing, a bone china cup, dainty and chipped, that had once belonged to an expensive tea set his aunties had owned. Belle had chipped that cup as a baby, and so when the aunties were forced to sell it they had omitted the cup, which he had saved from the trash and kept in secret for years, the one thing Belle had touched that he could get his hands on. It was worthless except to him, nothing that could have possibly attracted the attention of someone ransacking the house for valuables.

No one knew where he kept the cup, though. Only Belle, of course, who might not remember breaking it as a toddler but had heard the story enough times to repeat it from memory at the drop of a hat. But no one else even knew the cup was of any significance.

‘Regina.’

He turned around, as if expecting someone to materialise behind him. He shook his head, wondering if there was something in the water. First Sheriff Graham seeing wolves in the woods and now he was hearing noises. And there was a nagging feeling, one he couldn’t explain, regarding the mayor. As if some part of him knew she was responsible for it, just like Belle had been sure she was responsible for the good sheriff’s death.

It didn’t matter how the florist knew anyway. Perhaps it was a coincidence. What mattered was getting the cup back intact. Everything else could wait.

He felt off kilter, in a way he could not explain away. Like he had spent half the day on autopilot, doing things without a conscious thought or a good reason. Kidnapping the florist had been a deliberate move, that one he could not excuse. After all the man had touched what was his and needed to know that such actions carried consequences. But what happened later… that he had no reasonable explanation for. The rage that overtook him when he heard Mr French’s pathetic pleas for leniency, his desperate attempts at reasoning with him, he could not explain. It felt like something foreign, something subconscious he could only scratch at, that was dying to push its way out of his body. A voice told him that Maurice had done something awful. Something beyond redemption. That he had taken Belle from him, in a way that was permanent, and that he needed to pay for it.

‘He hurt her,’ the voice told him, over and over until it was howling inside his head, drowning out the desperate cries from the florist and the sound of Sheriff Swan identifying herself on the other side of the door, demanding entry. It wasn’t until she barged in and cuffed him that he snapped out of it, as if awakening suddenly from a dream that felt too real until the last second.

“What the hell were you thinking, Gold? What did he do?”

“He stole.”

He thought about the cup, but somehow other images kept popping into his head instead. Of Belle, dressed in a blue dress he could not recall her ever owning, lounging around in an unfamiliar, palatial place. Of them dancing around each other, the air charged with something he could not describe. And then himself, alone. Devastated. Because Belle was… gone?

“That reaction was about more than taking a few trinkets. You said something about how he hurt "her", what happened to "her"? Who was that? What did he do? If someone needs help, maybe I can help. Unless this is about your sister, in which case I would remind you about the virtues of sharing. She’s a grown woman capable of choosing who she socialises with.”

“No. I'm sorry, Sheriff. I think you heard that wrong.”

He was in no mood to have whatever discussion this was turning into, not with the Sheriff or anyone else. He knew what people thought about him, and his relationship with his sister. But it wasn’t any of their fucking business. They weren’t family, not like-

Except he had called Maurice her father, hadn’t he? Why had he done that? At the moment he hadn’t thought about it. Words had just poured out of his mouth, as if he had always wanted to speak them. As if he had been dying to say them.

“You really don't wanna cooperate.”

He really, really didn’t.

“Look, we're done here.”

He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to have to explain to others what he could not even begin to make sense in his head. He just wanted to go home, to Belle’s relaxing company. Sheriff Swan slapping cuffs on him jarred him out of his little fantasy.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The cells back at the sheriff’s station were not known for their comfort, and his headache wasn’t helping matters. His mind felt scattered, as if it was difficult to concentrate. He struggled to make sense of things, to keep it together. Nonsensical images flitted about his mind, of places he had never seen, a life he had never lived. And that voice, that damnable sing-songy voice, kept whispering in his ear, taunting about how he did not remember, how he had forgotten something important.

When the mayor came, it took everything in him not to snap because he realised that whatever was going on wasn’t happening in his head. Regina knew. She knew and he was in the dark, yet for some inexplicable reason she thought the opposite. There was a power struggle happening, and he was on the losing end of it unless he figured out fast what the fuck was going on in his town.

The glee in the mayor’s face when she realised that he did not know what she was talking about was a bitter pill to swallow, but the return of his chipped cup softened the sting. He needed to be out to figure out what was going on and how it connected to everything else wrong around him.

A quick call later, which Sheriff Swan had allowed him only after he had rather mockingly reminded her of his rights, had him out of the station in little time at all. DA Spencer was nothing if not shady, after all, and though he had no expectations of loyalty- he was sure Spencer was dealing with him only because Regina had not come knocking with a better offer- it got him out of his more immediate and pressing problem. He would deal with the charges themselves later.

He hoped, rather foolishly perhaps, that his slightly-rumpled estate would put off whatever inevitable confrontation would eventually happen between himself and his sister but it was a testament to how angry Belle was that she seemed not to notice the way his limp was noticeably more pronounced once he was finally home.

“What the hell has gotten into you? Are you mad?”

He shrugged off his coat and hung it in the rack near the door, unable to help the way his eyes went up and down Belle, making sure she was alright, that no harm had come to her in the time he had been indisposed. She looked healthy. And absolutely furious. Worse than that. She looked betrayed.

“I was merely seeking justice. The good sheriff didn’t seem to be going anywhere with her investigation of the theft in our home, so I took matters into my own hands. Miss Swan clearly did not appreciate me showing her up, so to speak, by finding the culprit and making sure there wouldn’t be a repeat offence.”

So what the handle of his cane was covered in a bit of blood? Headwounds bled easily, everyone knew that. 

“Moe French is in the hospital! You should’ve seen him in the hospital bed, covered in bandages, practically unable to move!”

“You went to visit him?”

It felt like a betrayal, knowing that while he had been seething in prison, dealing with Regina and getting his precious cup back, his sister had been visiting the person who had violated their home and taken things of untold value to him. Hadn’t she thought about visiting him? About his comfort? He had done all he had to protect her, after all. To protect them.

“I had to! I had to see for myself, apologise on your behalf and make sure he knew we would cover all medical expenses.”

“Like hell we are.” He had never raised his voice to his sister before, not that he ever recalled, and yet something about their current dynamic felt so strangely familiar. “Not an ounce of my money is going to that snivelling little leech.”

“So it’s your money now? That’s how this is? Your money, your power, your reputation. That’s what you were protecting when you were beating a defenceless Moe French, wasn’t it?”

“He doesn’t deserve your fierce defence of him. He never has. He’s beneath your notice, and yet you’ve insisted on paying attention to him. Of spending time with him. Of course he was going to take advantage of it eventually, of your kindness and your bleeding heart.”

He stalked off towards the wet bar in the corner of their living-room, serving himself a generous three fingers of 30-year-old Macallan, trying not to remember it had been a gift of Belle’s for his last birthday. 

“I’m not some idiot that someone can easily take advantage of! And you don’t get to dictate who I spend time with! I keep quiet about your social life, don’t I? Meeting with the major in the woods at night, having questionable encounters with the sheriff. Things any other person might have questioned you about. But I kept silent, I’ve not complained about how much less time we spend together, how you’ve become more secretive, more cagey. You have no right to dictate to me in return.”

Rabbie scoffed, downing his drink and contemplating pouring himself another. It wasn’t the first time his sister implied he was paying too much attention to either the mayor or the sheriff, and he was sick of it. It wasn’t true, for one, and he disliked that his sister kept both pushing him towards the two women and then acting strange when she perceived he was spending too much time with either of them. He disliked how they had wormed their way into their home. For him, both women were… business connections, which he cultivated and utilised for his own benefit, to maintain and grow his hold over the town and make things go the way he wanted them to. But all that stopped mattering as soon as he crossed his front door. Their house was their private sanctuary, a world of their own. That’s why he had taken such a dislike to the mere idea of Moe French violating their space. And it rankled that she didn’t seem to hold the same sentiment.

“Stop it! Stop whatever weird little thing you’ve been imagining it’s happening between me and the sheriff or, God forbid, the mayor. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, you’ve completely lost-”

He stopped himself, the enormity of what he was about to say hitting him a second before he did. But he could see from the way that Belle’s eyes suddenly filled with tears that it was too little, too late.

“My mind? Say it. It’s what everyone thinks, after all. The truth is you’ve never cared about my social life before because I had none. Because everyone in this town keeps their distance from me, like I’m some sort of wild animal that’ll attack them unprovoked at any moment. And they’re not necessarily wrong, are there? I… I have these dreams, sometimes. So vivid they feel more real than my life here sometimes. And I have these inappropriate-”

This time she was the one that stopped herself, her eyes suddenly not meeting his as she side-stepped him to head towards the stairs. He knew her well enough to know she was planning to go up to the library to read herself to sleep. The library was her personal space, like the basement workshop was his, and they had a tacit agreement not to step into each other’s rooms without express permission, making them places where they could take a break from each other. He would have let her go, only he felt like she had been about to say something important. Monumental. As if she had been about to give voice to something that had, for the longest time, been unspoken between them. He grabbed her by the arm, gentle in spite of the tone and charged air in the room.

“What were you going to say?” 

“Nothing.”

He could see her folding into herself, escaping into that bit of her mind he could not touch and it infuriated him. She never did that with him, not on purpose. She was always an open book where he was concerned, the one person he didn’t have to worry would have ulterior motives.

“It’s not nothing. Why are you lying to me? You’ve never done that before.”

“Wish I could say the same.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to reply that he only ever lied to her for her protection. There were things she was better off not knowing, things he was happier if she could safely deny having knowledge of. Things she might find unseemly or unpalatable and would struggle to reconcile with her values. Belle was a much better person than he was, than most people were. He didn’t want her to have to pit her love for him against her sense of right and wrong. 

But saying that suddenly sounded incredibly condescending.

“Don’t change the subject. This isn’t about me, it’s about you. And when it comes to us I’m always honest with you. And until now you’ve done the same. But there’s something you’re keeping from me.”

The way she wouldn’t meet his eyes told him that he was right.

“Can you really say that? You think I don’t realise you’ve been different these past few months? Ever since Emma Swan showed up, as a matter of fact.”

She was right, of course, but not in the way she seemed to be implying. Something had indeed changed the day Henry Mills had dragged his very reluctant biological mother across the townline months ago. He could not pinpoint what, or when he had first noticed it. When things he had kept mostly buried beneath layers of denial, started to surface. When he began to hear a niggling voice in the back of his head that told him there was something wrong with the way he felt about his sister. In the ways his eyes and hands lingered on her at times, in the way he felt when other people- other men- took her from him, even if it was only for a little while. It was the only part of what made beating Moe French make sense, this notion that this man was there to take Belle away from him and needed to be stopped. The other part of it, the blind, consuming rage, that remained a mystery to him.

 “Stop this obsession with the bloody sheriff. Who cares about her? Why do you insist on bringing her up between us? Acting like-” Like a jealous girlfriend. “-like you’re insecure. Like you’re afraid we’re drifting apart.”

“Aren’t we? When was the last time we had lunch together when I wasn’t the one taking the trouble of going to the pawnshop to make it happen. When was the last time we went a week without something making you skip dinner? The last time we sat down to watch a movie?” Belle’s eyes welled up, her face a mixture of anger and sadness that made him want to wrap his arms around her, even though he knew she wouldn’t appreciate it. He still held on to her, both hands on her arms now, his cane dropped. He trusted her to keep him upright.

“Sometimes… sometimes I think I love you more than you love me.”

“No one could love anyone more than I love you.” He felt his hands tighten around her upper arms and though a part of him knew he must be hurting her he could not make himself pull away. “You’re mine. And I’m yours. It’s the only thing I’ve ever felt sure about in this world. The only thing that feels right.”

“Does it? Because it hasn’t felt right for me lately. Like I’ve woken up and realised that the way we are is not… It’s not good for us. It’s not healthy. It’s not normal.”

“Fuck normal. No part of our lives has been normal. What we have is not normal, it’s better. Better than what most people will ever have. It feels good, doesn’t it?” He let one of his hands wrap around the back of her neck, the other going around her waist to pull her closer to appease the blind panic welling up in him at the idea that Belle might pull away. “You feel this? Whatever this is, it can’t be bad. Not between us.”

They never knew what happened first, whether it was Belle looking up or Gold looking down. One moment they were simply close, foreheads touching, the air charged between them, and the next their lips grazed, tentatively at first, the pressure increasing as something sparked between them. Belle sighed, her hands pressing against his shoulders to be able to stand on her toes and lean into the kiss and it was all that was needed for Gold’s carefully-curated self-restraint to snap. Suddenly he was hauling her close, his mouth pressing insistently against hers, coaxing her lips to open so he could slip his tongue into the warm heaven that was her. He growled, feeling exhilaration course through him as he kissed her frantically, with a desperation he had never felt before. Something sizzled between them, something that felt a bit like electricity travelling all over his body but he pushed that feeling aside, concentrating instead on the feeling of his sister’s hands sliding to the back of his neck, one taking a lock of his hair and tugging on it, urging him closer. She was soft and warm and wonderful in his arms, and he could not shake the feeling that this was right. It was what they had always meant to be doing, what their entire lives had led to. Why he had always been resentful of men sniffing around Belle, why he had always compared women to her. The few women who he had dated had all closely reassembled her, but he had never noticed. All a pale imitation of her, he could see now as he fisted the back of her shirt, his hand seeking the warmth of her skin. She was perfect, and she was his. His beautiful little sister, his true love.

‘That means it’s true love!’

There was a bright flash of something and next thing he knew Gold was on the floor on the other side of the living-room, a searing pain in his forehead and a deluge of confusing memories hammering into his brain. A spinning wheel. A dagger.

Baelfire. His son.

A curse to become reunited with him. And just as he was about to accomplish it… a flicker of light. One that had been snuffed out.

Dead.

He looked across the room, at his sister sprawled next to the couch, her eyes wide as she looked at him.

“R-Rumple?”

“Belle.” He had said her name a thousand times as Mr Gold, but it felt different, like he was talking about a different person. And, in a way, he was. Not Belle French, but Lady Belle. Except she was supposed to be dead. Regina had told him-

Fuck. How could he have been so stupid?

“You’re real. You’re alive.”

[one-sad-human]

•Dinner Party Disaster• Izzy Stradlin

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin x Reader

Requested? Yes! By @Jtrstp

Theme: Fluff

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: —

You met Izzy at a book store. He was looking for a very specific psychology book and you were buying the repressing of Pride and Prejudice, as it's always been your favorite book.

All Izzy said to you was 'nice choice,' because it was. He remembers enjoying it when he read it as a teenager. But that's all it took to spring you into a rant about how it's the best book ever and how you've re-read it over six times.

By the time you noticed you were spitting out obscure information on some book the stranger really didn't care about, it had already been five minutes.

What surprised you was how he didn't stop you, he nodded along and seemed actually intrigued. You apologized profusely but Izzy just stopped you and told you to please continue. So you did, why wouldn't you take the chance to talk about something you loved?

It wasn't everyday a handsome stranger is willing to hear you blabber about an old book. But not only was he handsome, he was smart and kind. He listened to everything you had to say and even chipped in on things he knew about it.

He decided then in the middle of the isle that he liked you, a lot. You were his exact opposite, you wore soft comfortable clothes in neutral colors where he was clad in leather and silver jewelry. Despite all the differences, he found you interesting.

     Izzy asked you out on a date, a simple and sweet one. It started by getting dinner at a small hole-in-the-wall type restaurant, then he took you on a walk to see the stars.

     It had been the nicest date Izzy had ever had. It wasn't rushed just so he could get you home to get in your pants, but relaxing and just talking and getting to know each other.

     Now nearly six months after your first date, and things are still going strong. Izzy truly feels he's in love with you, not that he told you yet of course, being the over thinker that he is.

     "Hi, honey!" You exclaim as you walk through your door. Izzy had been sleeping over your apartment more and more lately.

     "Hey, sweetheart, how was work?" He asks. Izzy would always say that he didn't like pet names, but he secretly loves all the cutesy nicknames— only from you though.

     "Fine," you say and plop down on the couch next to Izzy. "Busy, but it was still a good day!"

     You work at a coffee shop, a very busy coffee shop. How you can always stay so positive and rarely have bad days is something Izzy really looks up to. Izzy leans over and pecks your cheek, something that makes you smile every time.

     "That's nice." Izzy pulls you closer to him, peppering a few more kisses to your neck and jaw. You giggle and throw your arms around him, and Izzy pauses his attack. "You know, there's actually something I wanted to ask you about—"

     The shrill blare of the phone ringing cuts Izzy off. You unwrap yourself from him and give him a quick kiss on the lips.

     "Hold that thought, Iz!" You jog over to your phone and pick it up. "Hello?"

     "Hi, Y/N! Is Izzy there?"

     "Oh, Steven, yeah Izzy is here. You want to talk to him?" You ask Steven.

     "Yes, please!" You put your hand over the receiver.

"Izzy, it's Steven," you tell him handing over the phone. You wander over to the living room, not wanting to intrude on Izzy's conversation. After a few minutes, Izzy walks back to the living room and sits next to you.

"We have to go to a dinner tonight, all their girlfriends are going, too," Izzy says, pressing a kiss to your temple almost as to soothe the news.

     You wouldn't say you disliked Izzy's band mates— because that's just not true. Steven was nothing but sweet to you, a little flirty sometimes but you just laughed it off.

     Duff and Slash were just surprised Izzy could like someone so... soft. You really don't seem like his type, at least to them. But even then, they're never malicious towards you.

     Axl, however, is a different story. He just flat out doesn't like you, and he wasn't very subtle either. You're boring to him, you don't drink or smoke, definitely don't do drugs— not that Izzy did anymore either, which Axl had a feeling was because of you.

     He's just difficult to deal with, has been ever since you met, but you sucked it up for Izzy. But you aren't too sure you can survive a whole dinner.

"What's the occasion?" Izzy shrugs at your question.

"To make us suffer."

After a while of prying, you found out the dinner is to celebrate Axl's engagement to his girlfriend Erin Everly. You've met her once or twice before and she seemed pretty nice.

The dinner is taking place at an expensive and very classy restaurant, which made you incredibly nervous. You had never really been to such a fancy place, and it's pretty intimidating.

"Would you calm down? You look gorgeous," Izzy says as he drives towards the restaurant.

"I'm calm, I'm calm."

"Yeah, real calm, that's why your leg is bouncing and shaking the whole car," Izzy says and places his hand on your bouncing leg.

"I'm sorry, but you know I've never been one for fancy places. I almost had a panic attack at the MTV music video awards last year!" You sigh.

"If it helps, you certainly fit in. You look stunning," Izzy compliments and picks up your hand, placing a chaste kiss before placing it back down.

"Thank you," you say with red checks.

Izzy pulls into the parking lot, parking his sleek black car before stepping out. He jogs awkwardly to your side and opens your door, grabbing your hand and ignoring your teasing comments.

     There's a man dressed in a suit at the front desk, and he quickly takes you and Izzy to the rest of his bandmates. Izzy sits and you slide in the chair next to him, smiling politely and his friends.

     "About time you two got here," Slash says, a smile saying he's joking.

     "We would've gotten here sooner if Izzy didn't take forever getting dressed," you say. Izzy rolls his eyes with a fond smile.

     "Yeah, I took forever getting dressed," he says sarcastically. Izzy grabs the water pitcher and pours himself and you a glass.

     "So do you not sleep at your place anymore?" Axl asks. Izzy shrugs.

     "Oh fuck off, you act like you've never slept over your girlfriend's house," Duff says. You smile at him in thanks.

After a while, the waiter comes with everyone’s order. He seems nervous and his hands shake when he puts down everyone’s plates. When he gets to you, he knocks over your water, effectively drenching you.

“What the fuck man,” Izzy complains, quickly grabbing one of those fancy dinner napkins.

“I’m so sorry, miss!” You wave your hand and smile.

“It’s alright, I’ll be right back,” you say and stand, pulling the wet fabric away from your skin as you speed walk towards the ladies room.

Axl lets out an obnoxious laugh, sending all eyes towards him. Izzy narrows his eyes at him.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” He asks.

“Oh come on, you have to admit that was funny. She looked like she was going to cry!”

“You’re an asshole. It wasn’t her fault that dumbass spilt water all over her.” Axl rolls his eyes, his face that was once amused now looks irritated.

“Look, can you just fucking admit that you being with that loser is charity work?” By now the rest of the table is deathly silent, none of the bandmates nor their girlfriends daring say a word.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Izzy asks through gritted teeth.

“Check please!” Slash calls out, desperate to get out before his lead singer and guitarist start pummeling each other.

“I said that your girlfriend is a loser, and I have no idea why you could want her,” Axl says, ignoring Slash’s plead.

“Don’t fucking talk about her,” Izzy warns, his eyes dark.

“Why?”

“Because I’m in love with her and she is ten times the person you are at least.”

“What?” You ask, now standing next to your chair. Izzy whips his head towards you and stands.

“Let’s go,” he says and drags you away. You send a wave and smile to his band, being completely oblivious to the conversation. Although you are wondering why Izzy had declared his love for you, you’ll ask him once he’s cooled off.

“What happened, I was gone for five minutes?” You ask once you get outside.

“Axl opened his mouth.” You and Izzy get into his car, and he peels away quickly. His hands are tightly clamped around the steering wheel. You take one of his pale hands and rub soothing circles around it.

“What got you so riled up?”

“Axl thinks he could talk shit about you, and I’m not going to let him talk about you— fuck, even look at you, again.” You nod slowly, it wasn’t the first time Axl had said something that got Izzy upset.

“And did you mean what you said? That you love me?” You ask nervously. Izzy tenses up, you can feel it in his hand.

“Yes, is that ok?” Izzy asks, his face stoic as usual, but you could see right through it. You smile dorkily with a red face and lean over the middle console of the car, giving his cheek a kiss.

“Absolutely.”

[robert-de-niro-only-fans]

The Lesser of Two Evils

Jimmy Conway x Paulie's Daughter Reader

Just felt like writing for Jimmy... Also bc I like @yesbelladoesstuff 's man more than my own apparently 😂😝

TW: mentions of crime, mention of age gap, implied smut

Word Count: 3k

After four long years full of hard work and missing your family, college was finally over! You hadn't gone far for college, and you visited as possible, but the work load of college doesn't always allow for that. For Paulie, it was important that you get a degree, even if you didn't have a "real" job after college; he just knew you were too smart, and you knew it would make him so proud that his little girl finished college.

You moved home on a Thursday after finals and took Friday to just spend time with your dad and the rest of your immediate family, before the rest of your "family" came over for the big party on Saturday. This included Tommy, Henry, and Jimmy and all the various "uncles" your dad did business with. It was a closed circle of people.

You had been home for holidays and summers in between semesters, but towards the end of college, you really started to realize that you weren't in the loop like you used to be. Tommy had really grown into a well-respected mobster, and you respected that they may make him within the next few years. He was still hot headed as ever though. As for Henry, it seemed like he tried to hold off as long as he could, as he had always had a huge crush on you, and everyone, including Paulie, had placed bets on when you two would get together. But he had started going out with this girl named Karen. You had only met her a few times, but you had heard that she kept Henry on the straight and narrow. Good for her.

Jimmy hadn't had too much change in his life during your years at college, except that he had too younger mobsters to help him on his various jobs. He made a lot more money because of them! You never thought when you went to college that you would find yourself missing Jimmy as much as you did; of course, you had always been close with him just like you were with Tommy and Henry, but there was just something about him. He was always very cool, and his jokes were few and far between but hilarious when he told them. He had always been protective over you in a way the other two weren't, you guessed because he was older, but he also let you get away with stuff your dad would've had a heart attack over. Hell, Jimmy encouraged bad behavior.

And that's where you found yourself early Saturday afternoon: fighting off thoughts of Jimmy, and a little nervous to see him because of it.

The table is all set, covered in a black table cloth, with gold and silver decorations everywhere to celebrate your graduation. A few dishes full of your favorite foods are set out, and more will arrive as the family does.

As the family pours in, the table fills with dishes and becomes surrounded by people you've known practically your whole life. You are handed envelopes full of cash, each one thicker than the last. That's how you did presents in this business.

You wondered where the boys were... It's unusual that they didn't show up first.

After a while, Henry arrives with Karen and they greet you with the usual hugs and kisses on the cheek; you can tell Karen is still getting used to greeting people like this. "Glad you have you home, (Y/N)! Congrats!" Henry exclaims. Rather than money, they gift you with a beautiful set of jewelry. You knew Karen was good for Henry, and now you know she has good taste.

"Oooh, there she is!" Jimmy yells as he's coming in the door. Tommy and Jimmy show up right after Henry and Karen. They were likely all hanging out before coming over, but you had to wonder why they didn't just take the same car. Tommy hands you a stack of cash, like he was taught to do, giving you kisses on your cheeks and a sincere congrats for graduating. Before you can really finish up your conversation with Tommy, Jimmy is scooping you up into his arms and twirling you around playfully, earning a squeal from you. "Atta girl! We knew you could do it!" He lets you down gently and pulls you in for a proper hug. "Congratulations, (Y/N). You know everyone here is so proud of you."

As you move back into the dining room and living room to rejoin the party and visit with everyone, Jimmy's hand lingers on you: your shoulder blades, the small of your back, wrapped lightly around your hip. He had always been a bit handsy with you; it's just how you two were with one another, but today it's affecting you more than usual.

Jimmy is wrapped up in a conversation about something he's been bootlegging with one of the uncles, so you turn to him to say, "Hey Jimmy, in gonna go sit with my dad at the table, 'cause I think we're eating soon. I'll save you a seat next to me, if you want it."

"Okay, sweetie, I'll be there in a little while."

You walk away taking a deep breath to try and clear your mind. Had you always felt this way about Jimmy or had something changed?

You say next to your dad and leaned your head on his shoulder.

"Hey there, girlie! You enjoying the party? Everything okay?"

"Yeah I'm okay. It's good seeing everyone again, and knowing that I get to stay home for good this time."

Paulie puts his arms around you, squeezing you tight. He always gave the best hugs! "I'm so happy you're back home. It's been pretty lonely without my girl here... Now I'm gonna have to beat off guys with a stick to keep you here," he lets out a chuckle.

"Oh, Dad, I'm not going anywhere, and you know that. Besides, Henry went and got a girlfriend, so there goes my only shot at a boyfriend."

"Now, you know Henry wasn't your only option. What about Tommy?"

You both look across the room to see Tommy flirting with someone's daughter...

"Ehhh, no," you and your dad say in unison before having a big laugh together.

"Is this seat taken?"

You look over your shoulder to see Jimmy standing behind the chair next to you, "Reserved for you."

"Oh, good!" Jimmy takes a moment to say hello to Paulie before sitting down next to you.

Paulie stands up to announce that it's time to eat, but first he makes a small speech to let everyone know how proud he is of you for finishing college, and that you were always too bright and talented to belong to him.

While Paulie is standing at the head of the table, Jimmy reaches over to your lap under the table and takes your hand in his. You look at him, trying to hide that he's affected you in any way. He gives you a small smirk, and rubs his thumb over yours for just a moment before letting your hand go.

Paulie takes his seat, and people start spooning food out of dishes and into their plates, and you're left wondering what just happened and what was meant by it.

Luckily, the rest of dinner was pretty uneventful, and the food was always so tasty. After everyone got their bellies full, everyone mingled wherever they liked around the house. Some went into the backyard to get a small bonfire going so some of the kids could have roasted marshmallows; some of the guys started inside the house and started pulling out cards and chips and stacks of money; many of the wives gather in the kitchen or the living room to talk all the latest gossip.

You notice Tommy, Jimmy, Henry, and Karen taking lowly and giggling with one another in a small circle. Normally they would've invited you over, so there's definitely something suspicious going on.

"(Y/N)!" Paulie says, waving you over, "come here, kiddo."

"Dad, I just finished college; I'm not really a kid anymore!" You give him a laugh and walk over to him.

He puts an arm over your shoulders and says, "Well, you'll always be my kid." He pauses for a moment before looking across the room and yelling, "Conway!"

The room quiets down, waiting for Jimmy's response. All of the guys and Karen turn to you and your dad. "Yes, Paulie?" Jimmy says with a smug look on his face.

"When you came in here, I didn't see you give my little girl any presents for her graduation. No cash, no cute little boxes with bows. What's the matter with you?" Paulie voice is raised so everyone can hear him. This is very odd behavior, as he normally handles things pretty quietly, so you know something is up.

"Well, ya see, Paulie..." Jimmy starts walking towards you, "I didn't hand her any envelope full of 50s, and I didn't give her any boxes with bows, because what I got for her was too big to fit through the front door." Jimmy lowers his voice to a whisper now that he's in front of you. "You wanna go see your present?"

You now realize that your dad and the guys are all in on some kind of surprise.

"Yes, please."

That's all Jimmy needs to hear before he's picking you up to take you outside. Henry and Tommy rush to the door to open it, and everyone that heard what was going on follows you outside to see what the surprise is.

You and Jimmy can't stop giggling while there are lots of hoots and hollers from everyone gathering outside with you. Jimmy lets you down and spins you around so you're facing the driveway. Sitting there is a beautiful black muscle car with a big gold bow on the hood.

He wraps his arms around your waist and whispers in your ear, "You like it, princess?"

"I- uh... yes," you can barely get a response out; you certainly weren't expecting this. Jimmy was all about handing out money and giving expensive gifts, but nothing like this... He didn't like to do anything that would put this kind of attention on him.

"It's the one you said you wanted right?"

"Yes, Jimmy. It's perfect," you say with a huge smile as you turn to hug him. "Thank you so much!"

"Anything for you, (Y/N)." Jimmy pulls a key out of his pocket and hands it to you. You take it from him and run over to unlock the car and climb in. Immediately, Tommy climbs in the front seat next you you and is shouting, "C'mon! Let's take this thing on a spin!!" Henry and Karen climb in the back seat and Henry only starts egging you on saying, "Let's crank this thing up and get outta here, (Y/N)!"

"Okay, okay! We'll drive it, but only if Jimmy comes too. He paid for the thing after all!"

"Jimmy! Get your ass over here!" Tommy yells before climbing in the back seat with Henry and Karen.

Jimmy runs over and gets in the passenger seat next you you. "Try not to kill us, okay?"

You turn the key in the ignition and the engine fires up loudly, which gets Henry and Tommy rowdy in the back seat. All the people in the front yard were raising their glasses and cheering as you backed out of the driveway! Before driving away from the house, you slowed down and Jimmy rolled down his window so Paulie could pop his head in.

"You guys be careful, and don't let anything happen to that one right there," he says pointing to you.

"Hell, Paulie, she's the one you gotta worry about!" Henry pipes up getting a laugh out of everyone.

"Yeah, well..." he chuckles, knowing it's true and realizing his little girl is all grown up. "Happy graduation, baby; go have fun!"

"Thank you, Dad! Love you!" you yell before driving off, a little too fast.

• • •

After you, the guys, and Karen, whom you had really grown to like, had been driving around a while, you decide to stop off at a small park while the sun sets. It's a cute little public park with a lake, a pavilion with tables for picnics, a small playground for kids (naturally the boys go and play on the playground), and lots of open space with soft grass.

With the boys being boys running around chasing each other, you and Karen get some time to talk alone.

"Seems like you've got Henry tied down pretty well. Takes a tough lady to do that."

"Yeah, well he stood me up on our second date, and so I told him off in front of his friends. We been together since."

"Oh yeah, word got back to me on that one. You had all the guys pretty shocked," you say though a laugh, "They made fun of him a good bit for it, so he must like you a lot if he put up with that."

"Yeah, I think he does." She pauses for a minute. "I've heard from some people that Henry always had a crush on you, and that everyone thought you two would end up together. I'm sorry if I got in the way of that."

"Oh, no! No need to apologize. Henry liked me when we were kids, and it feels like more of a joke now than anything. I don't think I could deal with him as well as you do," you give her a reassuring smile.

"So, you gonna give Jimmy a shot?"

"Hmm? What? You mean Jimmy and me?" You stutter out.

"Yeah, I mean, I know he's older, but it seems like he really likes you!"

"You think Jimmy likes me?"

"Well, yeah girl! He bought you ya dream car!" She says excitedly, her New York accent really shining through.

"Karen!" Henry calls from the playground.

"Whaddayou want?!"

"Come over here, honey!"

You see Jimmy walking towards you and Karen, and notice that Tommy is flirting with some poor girl who was just out for a run. Karen says a quick goodbye to you and heads over to the playground where Henry is waiting for you.

When Jimmy's feet stop in front of yours, he extends a hand to you to help you up from your spot on the grass. He places his hand on the small of your back, and his long fingers delicately begin to lead you in the direction of your new car.

"Did you have a fun time playing with your friends on the playground?" You poke a little fun at him.

"Would've had more fun if you were there," he raises his eyebrows and cracks a smile at you.

You laugh gently out your nose as you arrive at your car, "Whatcha bring me over here for?"

He takes you by the hips, lifting you up and placing you on the trunk of your car. He grabs your thighs and pulls you close to him, your knees brushing against either of his hips. "You like the car, angel?"

"Jimmy, wha-," you let out a shaky breath, "um, yes, it's beautiful."

"Mmmm, good." He brushes your hair behind your ear.

It suddenly becomes clear to you that what Karen had to say about Jimmy was true. In fact, with him standing between your legs like this, it couldn't be more obvious.

"Hey, Jimmy?"

"Yeah, baby doll?"

"Kiss me."

He raises his eyebrows, then looks at the ground for a moment. When he looks back up at you, he tangles a hand in your hair and presses his lips to yours softly at first, but he quickly deepens the kiss, exploring your mouth with his. You gently wrap one arm around his neck, and the other hand squeezes his waist through his shirt. He pulls you into him so your chest is pressed against his.

It feels weird kissing him, but it also feels right. Being with him like this feels like electricity, and you could feel like this forever and it still wouldn't be enough.

"Hey, hey, Jimmy!" Henry calls as him and Karen come up on you.

"Do not interrupt them!" You hear Karen say followed by a whap to Henry's arm.

Jimmy slowly pulls away from you, giving you probably the sweetest look you've ever seen him give. He pecks your lips a few more times before turning to Karen. "Thank you for hitting him."

You slide off the back of the car, putting your hand in Jimmy's.

"Listen, all I'm saying is, it's about time you got a kiss from her, you paid a lot of money for it!" Henry chuckles, slapping the trunk of your car.

"Listen, Henry Hill. I kiss who I want, when I want. And yes, I am grateful for the car, but Jimmy didn't buy my love," you cut your eyes at him.

"Yeah, that's right! What's the matter with you?" Karen backs you up.

Henry puts his hands up in surrender and tries to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face, "Alright, alright, geez!! Can someone go get Tommy so we can go home?"

Everyone gives him a look.

"Okay, fine! I'll go get him!" Henry jogs off to go get Tommy off that girl's back.

Funny enough, the girl ends up coming home with the group, Tommy landing another girl that he won't call in the morning. So you drop everyone off at their respective homes: Tommy and his girl at Tommy's place, Henry and Karen at Henry's place, and Jimmy invited you to his place. You knew Paulie would worry about you not coming home, but it would raise his blood pressure if he knew what you and Jimmy were up to.

It was really the lesser of two evils.

[the-last-airblender]

Chapter 5: The Siege (part 1)

You gaze after him until he’s out of sight again, the same strange feeling from before distracting you to the point where you only notice the footsteps when they are right behind you.

This is part of the Run series, check out the masterlist for the other chapters

Word count: 9,2k whoops

Notes: Din Djarin x fem reader. As you can probably tell by the title, this is a AU/retelling of the season 2 episode. The whole destroy-the-base-storyline is still there, but I’ve changed the story a bit so that you can have an active role in it instead of simply following Din around. It includes a scene very much inspired by this particular tiktok hehe. I had to post this in two parts since I reached the post limit lmao.

Warnings: violence, swearing, feelinggggsss owyeahh

Summary: Cara Dune and Greef Karga ask Din to help them destroy a secret Imperial base. As it turns out, you’ve just scored an invitation to the party taking place in the mansion the base is hidden beneath.

~

~

You look up from your book when the cockpit starts to get lighter by the minute. A glance outside tells you that you have entered Nevarro's atmosphere and a wide, rocky, volcanic landscape stretches out before you as far as the eye can see. Although Duugan is mostly covered in sand, the two planets are quite similar in their apparent desolation. On Duugan people are forced to settle near the places where water can be found, making agriculture -and therefore survival- possible. You’ve often gone into the desert at dusk to sit on top of a large dune and watch the sun sink into the sea of ​​sand. The beautiful colors the sky had turned in those moments had often put you in such a state of calm and wonder that you wouldn’t return home until it was too cold to sit still any longer. Duugan is a beautiful planet and its inhabitants are warm and hospitable. Too bad your now… complicated home situation will keep you from ever returning. You didn't have many friends there, but there are certainly people apart from Samick and Avlin that you will miss. However, after all that has happened, you aren’t sure if they will trust you anymore. The stories that are undoubtedly already being spread about you don't even have to deviate very much from the truth to scare them off. Certainly not for-

'Kira!' you blurt out.

The Mandalorian startles. 'What?'

'My girlfriend', you sigh, putting your forehead in your hand in desperation. 'Well, my would-have-been-girlfriend. She probably heard of my first escape and now she's going to hear how I killed my father and several guards and fled the planet… '

Din can't stop the wave of disappointment flowing through him and forces himself to say: 'He might have survived, if they got him to a good doctor. It's not like you stabbed his heart. '

The way you slightly shrink in your chair tells him that his remark wasn't quite as uplifting as he'd hoped.

'Still', you say, 'she hates violence and I'm fleeing halfway through the galaxy. Even if I found a way to see her again, there's no way she'd even want me anymore. Ugh, I always do this!' You rub your face in frustration. 'Every time I have a good thing going with someone, my recklessness sweeps in and ruins it. Last time, my ex and I were at a bar and when a girl came onto him, my drunk ass punched her in the face.'

Din silently smiles, for more than one reason. He would pay good money to see you drunkenly punch a flirting girl.

'Also, I ... might or might not have ... thrown a knife at her. If it wasn't for the alcohol, I would've hit and probably killed her. Needless to say, he immediately broke up with me.' You cringe at the memory. 'Luckily, my dad never found out.'

A silence falls as he starts the landing. When you look out the window again, you see that you’re just outside a town that appears to have been dug out of the rocky hills. A gigantic freestanding gate gives access to a wide street that is flooded with people. Vendors advertise their wares under self-fashioned sunscreens and people walk in and out of the houses embedded in the hills. Clouds of dark dust rise up as the Crest touches down and much to your surprise, you appear to be awaited. A dark-skinned man in a long coat and a very muscular woman slowly approach the ship, while Din shuts down the engines and gets up from his seat. You hastily put your book in your bag and hesitantly stop him when he’s about to leave the cockpit.

'Look, I need you to know that I'm eternally grateful for your help', you say, looking straight at where his eyes should be. 'And I'm sorry for everything that happened to you because of me-'

‘None of the things that happened there were your fault’, he interrupts.

For a moment you are dumbfounded, not entirely sure if you agree with him. 'Still, thank you. I was so relieved when you showed up. I don't really know what I would've done if you hadn't.'

'You would've found a way', he says, sounding so sure that you look away, your cheeks reddening. 'Besides, you did the most work in that courtyard.'

‘That's not true, my brother was a great help’, you shrug shily.

For a moment, he doesn't answer. Then he remarks: 'Chavez got away.'

You manage to keep your face neutral. 'I noticed.'

'Do you think he'll come after you?'

'Nah, he's got a city to run. Besides, he wouldn't be able to find me even if I walked around with a big-ass target on my back.'

'Good.'

The pod floats after him as he climbs down the stairs and before you follow him, you quickly wipe the dust off your face and loosely re-drape your headscarf. You throw your bag over your shoulder and climb down the stairs. As you walk through the hull and past the now empty pod to the lowered platform, voices reach your ears.

'And you, come here, little one! Has Mando been taking good care of you, huh?'

You smile at the tone clearly intended for the childs and hesitate for a moment, fiddling with your dress.

'Looks like you two have been busy', you hear the Mandalorian say.

'I myself have been steeped in clerical work', says the other male voice again. 'Marshal Dune here is to be thanked for cleaning up the town.'

Your hand grabs the handle of the dagger on your belt for a moment and with a deep sigh you muster all your courage. Then you step into the sunlight and walk down the platform to where two pairs of eyes immediately turn to you. All of a sudden you are very aware that you’re still dressed in your red wedding dress and that the gold paint on your arms glistens in the sunlight. Even though you've put your jewelry in your bag, you know you're more out of place than a shellfish in the desert. Determined not to show Din’s two friends your nervousness, you stop next to the bounty hunter.

'I knew I saw a beautiful face looking down on us,' the man says jovially, still holding the child, who clearly met him before, in his arms. 'Aren't you going to introduce us to your lovely companion, Mando?'

'These are Greef Karga and Cara Dune', says Din, after which he introduces you to them.

'Nice to meet you', you smile politely.

Dune sizes you up, no doubt wondering why the hell you look so dressed up.

'Where are you from?', she asks.

'Duugan.'

'Ah. How do you know this guy?'

'He... got me out of a bad place. Literally.'

She nods slowly and seems to settle for this vague answer for now. Then she turns to Din. 'Come, I want to show you something.'

As you pass through the meter-high gate, you ask nobody in particular: 'Is there a market here somewhere? I could use a new outfit.'

Karga points to a street on your left.

'There is a bazaar over there', he replies. 'You can meet us at my office when you're done.'

'Thanks! See ya'.'

You turn into the street before you can hesitate, your dress blowing in the wind. The staring eyes of the locals don’t escape you and you suddenly can't wait to get changed. The only other piece of clothing you have with you is your blue dress, which was still in your bag and is no less notable, so you will have to get some practical clothes. When you enter the network of streets full of shops and stalls, where many others are also doing their shopping at the moment, you curiously let your gaze glide over the merchandise. In addition to clothing, the vendors offer beautifully woven carpets, household items and all kinds of food that you’ve never seen before, from prickly fruit to delicious-smelling soup and crates full of strange-shaped nuts. As the chaotic mixture of scents enter your nose, you suddenly realize how hungry you are. A little later you’re, now a large piece of vegetable pie richer, looking at a stall with bizarre fruit, when a rough voice catches your attention.

'What’s a girl dressed like you doing on a planet like this?'

Annoyed, you look back at the messy-dressed boy who is looking at you with a grin that promises nothing good. Wisely, you decide not to dignify his question with an answer and turn back to the fruit, munching on the cake.

'Hey, I asked you something!'

Ignoring the boy, you point to a bright yellow egg-shaped fruit and ask the seller what it is. Just as he starts to answer, a strong hand grabs your pie-arm.

'Don't ignore me, you bitch!', the boy snarls.

Within a second, the point of your dagger is against his throat. His face turns white as a sheet and when the grip on your arm loosens, you calmly take another bite of your cake. He raises his hands defensively and walks back slowly, but you don't lower the dagger just yet.

'No need to get all aggressive', he grumbles, suddenly not so brave anymore.

You snort at his hypocrisy and look at him with your signature penetrating look.

'Don't you dare lay a hand on me', you growl. 'If you get near me again, I will literally stab you in the fucki- oh, dresses!'

Suddenly, you’ve forgotten all about the creep and you walk right past him to the stall on the other side of the street, while he looks at you in confusion and then quickly runs off. With your dagger still in your hand, you admire the simple but practical-looking clothing on display. The green-skinned salesman is watching you nervously, happy with the interest but a little afraid of your weapon. Just as your gaze falls on a long, dark green skirt, a warm smile reaches your ear. To your right stands a blond-haired young man wearing a light blouse and dark brown trousers, his hands in his pockets. The smile on his face is entirely different from that of the other boy, yet you don't put your dagger away just yet and you stay where you are.

'You'd think people were smart enough not to mess with heavily armed women’, he says, amused.

You give him a smile. 'There are stupid people on every planet.'

'I'm sure you're right.' He strolls over and holds out his hand. 'I'm Hal.'

After a moment's hesitation, you put the dagger back into its sheath and shake his hand.

‘Our friend handled it quite badly, but he asked the question that the whole town would undoubtedly want an answer to', Hal says as you put the last piece of cake in your mouth, wipe your hand on your dress and pick up the skirt to get a better look at it. 'Don't get me wrong, you look... beautiful. But… well… why?'

You raise an eyebrow at him and he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck.

'Sorry, I phrased that wrong. You're clearly not from around here and you look like you're dressed for some kind of occasion. I just...'

You decide to put him out of his misery for both your sakes.

'This is traditional Duuganese bridal attire.'

'Oh.' Hal blushes and unconsciously takes a step back. 'In that case, congratulations.'

'I didn't get married,' you say, just a little too quickly, smiling encouragingly. 'They couldn't make me.'

'Ah, well, good for you', he says with relief in his voice. 'So that's what brought you to Nevarro, then? You escaped?'

You almost cringe and force yourself to nod.

'Yeah', you sigh. ‘And that's why I desperately need new clothes. I didn't exactly have time to pack my bags.'

'Sounds like you've been through a lot, lately', he responds softly.

You absently rub your thumb on the fabric of the skirt in your hands. 'I guess I have.'

Then you quickly pull yourself back to the present and hold the pleated skirt in front of you. It falls mid-calf and appears to be your size.

'You could probably use something fun to put your mind off things', says Hal, while you grab a baggy white blouse from the stall. 'How about you keep that beautiful dress on for a little longer?'

You pay the vendor for the skirt and the blouse and then take a good look at Hal. You can't deny you find him attractive and he seems very aware of the fact that he shouldn’t get on your bad side if he doesn't want to meet one of your weapons.

'What do you propose?'

~

As you enter the small building where, according to a friendly local, the magistrate resides, you hear a familiar voice, which tells you that you’re in the right place.

'And you wanna mop up the last of the Imperial force before they do.'

'Mando, I just want them off my planet.'

'If we could take out that one last base, Nevarro would be completely safe', you hear Dune say. 'We could be a trade anchor for the entire sector. And the planet would finally be free. We just need a way into Mayweather's place.'

You walk into the room and Dune quickly clicks away a projection, but your attention is already drawn.

'Did you say Mayweather?', you ask curiously. 'As in Tomas Mayweather?'

Dune and Karga exchange glances. It’s the latter who answers.

'You know him?'

'Yeah,' you say, putting down your now very heavy bag, 'or, rather, my father does. Say about him what you want, but my dad sure was well-connected. I only met him once, years ago, when he came to Duugan for business. I didn't know he was from Nevarro. Why do you need to get into his house?'

'There's an old Imperial base hidden underneath his mansion', Din replies. 'We need to take out the skeleton crew stationed there.'

'What stopped you guys from kicking them out before?'

'Mayweather is an influential and wealthy man', Dune explains. 'Most of the businesses in town are his. We can't just waltz in there. Besides, we don't have the manpower or the watertight proof for it.'

'Why would he even hide them?'

Dune shrugs. 'Presumably, he gets paid handsomely for the protection his status gives them.'

'So you need a way in', you repeat with a straight face.

Karga squints suspiciously. 'Yes, we said that.'

You dramatically put your hands together in a thoughtful gesture, visibly enjoying the little play you're now putting on.

'If only there was some kind of big event to keep him distracted', you muse exaggeratingly. 'Something that would make him feel secure and not suspect that people are coming for him...'

'What are you getting at?', Dune asks, unable to hide her curiosity.

You spread your arms.

'A little birdie told me he's having a party later', you reveal with a big grin. 'And guess who's invited!'

~

'Nothing yet?'

The modulated voice in your ear almost makes you jump as you lean against the city gate, your hands behind your back and your jewelery softly jingling in the wind. You’re not quite used to the communication device hidden in your ear, which creates a non-stop connection between you and the Mandalorian’s helmet, since you need to be reachable and it would look highly suspicious if you were constantly sticking your finger in your ear to switch it on and off. Besides, you wouldn't even know how -Samick had often teasingly called you “technologically challenged”. The fact that Din can hear what you are doing and saying at all times makes you more nervous than you care to admit. Before you left, you made sure to go to the toilet and you don't plan on drinking anything all night, lest he has to hear things neither of you want him to. However nervous you may be, his digital presence does reassure you somewhat. After all, you’re about to go to the lion's den with a boy you barely know, who was supposed to pick you up at the city gate five minutes ago.

'No', you mutter with a sigh.

You look around again, but no trace of Hal. To be honest, you also have no idea how he’s planning to pick you up, so you don't know what kind of vehicle to look out for. Mayweather's villa is located in the hills outside the city, which means walking is not an option.

Hal had mentioned that guns are not allowed at parties like this one, but you’ve casually ignored that. You did leave your blasters behind, as well as your daggers, but your six throwing knives -which can also be held and used at close range- are attached to your legs. Dresses really do lend themselves well to hiding things on one’s legs. Few have the guts to search there without good reason.

Your gaze lands on the Razor Crest, which is parked a stone's throw from the gate. A couple of figures scurry around the ship, probably busy with some maintenance or refilling the fuel tank. For a moment you consider checking with Mando, but then you decide against it. He probably has better things to do, like preparing for the operation. 

The plan had sounded pretty simple: you infiltrate the party and make sure that Mayweather doesn’t get wind of what goes on beneath his feet, while Din, Karga and Dune sneak into the base and place explosives, after which you set a small fire and ensure that everyone clears the villa before it blows up. Not everyone at this party will be an Imperial sympathizer, so you made sure they added that last part to the plan. If you can help it, you don't want more innocent blood on your hands. Plus, everyone will be so busy with the fire that no one will pay attention to what's going on downstairs. Mythrol, a nervous man with blue skin and fins on his head, will take the others to the base with his landspeeder. The tension between him and Mando had been palpable; they've undoubtedly met before and given Mando's profession, you can probably guess why Mythrol was so nervous.

'Are you sure Mayweather won't recognize you?'

'No,’ you admit, 'but it's been at least ten years and I don't exactly look the same as I did then. And even if he recognizes me, it's still not the end of the world. I can't imagine he's already heard about my… actions. '

'Let's hope so.'

'Where's the kid, by the way?’, you ask.

You don't remember seeing him in Karga's office.

'School', is the short answer.

You blink, confused about the lack of context, still not quite used to how frugal the Mandalorian is with his words. Not that you can blame him; he probably used to be alone most of the time and the child is not exactly a great conversation partner, as he never replies -not in a language you or Din speak, that is. You’re not quite sure whether he actually understands what people are saying to him. Though, he seems to listen to Din. When he wants to, anyway.

Then a yellow two-person speeder enters your field of vision. It’s coming straight for the city gate and after a while, you recognize Hal's blonde hair.

'He's coming', you announce softly, while standing up and waving at him.

Your heart starts beating faster and for a moment you feel guilty for abusing his kindness. 

‘It's the right thing to do’, you silently remind yourself. ‘This is best for Nevarro.’

'Alright’, the man's voice sounds in your ear again. And, a moment later, as if he was hesitating, he adds: 'Be careful.'

A strange but warm feeling seems to wrap you in an invisible blanket, but the speeder is already so close that you can’t react without being noticed.

'Hey, Hal', you greet -partly to make that clear- when he comes to a stop right in front of you.

'Hey, sorry I'm late!', the young man shouts cheerfully. 'Jump in!'

You climb into the speeder and while Hal smoothly gets the speeder moving again, you mumble, only audible by the gods thanks to the sound of the engines: 'Oh Adur, give me strength...'

~

'How close do you want me to drop you off?'

Mythrol nervously eyes the area as he maneuvers the speeder through the pass, half expecting stormtroopers to show up at any moment to turn him into a smoking pile of blue pulp.

'How' bout the front door?', Karga says coolly.

'It's a little close for a civilian, isn't it?', he protests cautiously.

'I got two choices for ya’', Karga says sternly. 'You take us in and I knock a hundred years off your debt.'

Mythrol isn't sure if he wants to hear the other option. 'Or?'

'Or I leave ya' out here to walk home with whatever's left in your humidity vest and maybe the stormtroopers won't kill your blue ass before you dry out.'

'It's not much of a choice, is it?', the blue man grumbles under his breath.

The speeder quickly soars between the rocky walls towering over them, to where soon a large metal door emerges: the deserted-looking entrance to the Imperial base. Mythrol brings the speeder to a halt.

'All right, we can't go any further than this', he declares.

When the others get out, he stays seated, looking around and ready to fly away at the first sign of danger. Dune takes a look at the control panel next to the door, which is large enough to get a sizable spaceship through. Din scans the area, but the software in his helmet shows no signs of immediate danger. If he listens carefully, he can hear music coming from above them, where the party in the villa is clearly already in full swing. He had noticed that you didn't leave all of your weapons behind and he feels relieved for it. Judging from your story, Hal isn't the one he's concerned about. The question remains whether Mayweather will recognize you -and more importantly, whether he knows about the events on Duugan. If he has been warned about you, he also knows that you came with a Mandalorian. What conclusions he draws from that information is anyone's guess.

'We have a problem.' Dune's voice pulls him away from his pondering. She points to the panel. 'I recognise this technology. This security takes ages to override and if we do even one thing wrong, it'll send off an alarm.'

'And then our element of surprise is blown', Karga grumbles. 'They'll be way more on guard after that.'

'All right', Mythrol interrupts, starting the speeder again. 'I'm headed back. Hit me up on the comm, we can set up a rendezvous time. '

Karga whirls on him, losing his temper with the nervous employee.

'You park your gills right there until I say otherwise', he snarls.

'I'm starting to dehydrate, boss', Mythrol whines.

'Okay, how does thirty more years off your debt sound?'

He frowns thoughtfully and then sighs. 'Can you at least be quick about it?'

'We could be a whole lot quicker about it if we could get our hands on an access key', Dune says, with a meaningful look to the Mandalorian.

He understands the signal and unmutes his end of the comm. 'Can you hear me?' A clearly fake cough tells him you can't talk. 'We need a key to get in without alerting anyone. It should look like a thin bar about half the size of your hand. Can you get us one?'

You cough affirmatively and he mutes himself again.

'Are you sure that's a good idea?', Karga asks.

'She's our best shot', Din says evasively.

'Why was she traveling with you, anyway?', Dune wants to know.

He looks at her and carefully formulates his answer. ‘She needed a way out and I got caught up in the situation. We got away eventually. Got my ass handed to me a couple of times in the process, though. '

Dune gives him a wicked grin. 'I would've loved to see that.'

He wisely refrains from dignifying that with an answer. The cuts you caused in Lossith have not yet healed and still hurt with certain movements. You’d known very well where to hit him. By now you’d offered to bandage them four times, but he’d politely declined, insisting that you had every right to defend yourself. Besides the fact that the Creed wouldn’t allow it, he can't stand the idea of ​​your touch on his skin for some reason. The thought alone is enough to spark something deep inside his chest.

Suddenly he misses the sound of your voice in his helmet and he thinks back to the ride here, during which he was listening to how you told Hal about the Duuganese gods.

‘On Duugan we worship four gods', you’d explained. 'We have two suns and one moon. Dedis is the largest sun. He is the god of wisdom and the harvest, because his light allows things to grow. Adur is the smaller sun and Dedis' younger brother, as well as the god of dawn and strength. He goes down first and rises first and often quarrels with his brother, who always has the last word - that's why he goes down last. When they’re gone, Qalla, the goddess of the moon and water, appears. She watches over the dreamers at night and keeps the nightly travelers safe. Finally, you have Yris, the goddess of the ground under our feet. She gives life to all that breathes on Duugan.' You laughed shortly. 'Admittedly, there aren't many of those on such a dry planet -you know how it is- but still. All four of them protect us in their own way. That's a very comforting thought when you’re fleeing through the galaxy. '

His gaze travels up to the mansion again and a silent prayer floats up to the sky as well.

'Maker, keep her safe.'

~

Seemingly casually, you lean on the handrail that prevents you from falling off the gallery. From the open second floor, which wraps around the large courtyard, you can see just about the entire party. Nevarro's contemporary fashion is a true spectacle to behold: women are wearing brightly coloured dresses and they’ve created the most bizarre and elaborate braided updos with their hair, while men walk around in loose-fitting and equally colourful clothes. Their hairdos are even more striking: apparently it is a trend among the wealthy to grow a big mustache and sculpt it into curly shapes -the races that can do that, at least. In addition to humans, you have also recognized a Rodian, whose green reptile skin and antennae are unmistakable, and a beautiful female Twi'lek with copper-colored headtails. An energetic group of musicians is playing cheerful music and a couple of guests are dancing to the beat. Your eyes slide over the dozens of guests and land on Mayweather, who is busy talking to a small group of men. His red hair stands out against his bright blue robes and on his hands, with which he gestures enthusiastically, a number of large rings sparkle in the sunlight coming through the skylights. Luckily he doesn't seem to have noticed you yet, clearly busy with his job as host. Moreover, you’re positioned somewhat concealed behind one of the columns that carry the roof above your head and the storey you’re standing on.

Who would have a key to the hidden base? Mayweather, of course, but it would be too ambitious and dangerous to steal his. The various waiters, their beige robes a strong contrast with the colorful guests, probably have no business going down there. The security, on the other hand...

You push yourself up from the balustrade and hurry towards the stairs, the heels of your shoes clicking on the turquoise tiles covering the floors. Hal has been getting you something to drink for about five minutes now, so you have to be quick if you want to avoid him. Fortunately, even in this dress, you don't stand out too much from the rest of the attendees. Once downstairs, you move smoothly through the partying crowd, making sure you steer clear of Mayweather, towards a hallway that you suspect leads to the private part of the villa. In any case, that you’re not allowed to go there becomes clear when you catch a glimpse of a Zabrak security guard, recognizable by the numerous small horns on his head. You take a deep breath and then quickly stagger into the hall, grabbing your stomach and panically waving at the guard.

'Ma'am, you are not allowed to come here', he says immediately, taking a step in your direction.

You spot the key instantly, clipped to his belt with a ring. Bingo.

'A bathroom!', you cry. ‘I need a bathroom, I don't feel so good! What kind of food are you guys serving here?! '

The man looks at you hesitantly while you say this and before he can respond, you throw yourself into his arms, wailing dramatically. He manages to catch you, but almost falls over in the process. You take advantage of his instability by grabbing the key from his belt in the kerfuffle and hiding it in your hand. Only then does the hole in your plan dawn on you: your dress has no pockets.

The Zabrak awkwardly pushes you away. 'The bathroom is that way.'

'Thank you, good sir', you squeak. 'I'm gonna go puke now.'

You quickly turn around and place the hand with the key on your chest in a dramatic gesture, stumbling back down the hall.

'Hey!'

You keep walking, even though you start panicking for real now, but you hear his footsteps coming after you. Silently cursing, you try to figure out where to hide the key and make a mental note to have pockets made in your dresses and skirts.

'Did you just steal my key?!', the guard snarls, firmly grabbing your arm. 'Give it back. Now. '

You open your mouth for a really ill-prepared defense, but then you hear a familiar voice behind you.

'What's going on here?'

Hal walks into the hallway and glares at him.

'She stole my key, Mr. Mayweather', the Zabrak replies.

The blood in your veins goes cold. Mayweather? Hal is Tomas's son?

'What?' Hal turns to you. 'Is that true?'

Your hand is still on your chest, just above the collar of your dress, and suddenly you realize there is only one place to hide the key now. As you turn toward Hal, you let the thin bar slip down your dress and pray to all your gods that no one sees it. Much to your relief, it doesn't immediately fall out of the other end of your dress and instead get stuck between your boobs, safely out of sight under the red fabric.

'Of course not', you pout, grabbing your forehead. 'I'm just looking for the bathroom, I’m feeling rather unwell.'

Every trace of suspicion disappears from Hal's face and with a short gesture he orders the guard to let you go. He reluctantly obeys.

'Can't you see she's sick, you idiot?', the boy barks. 'Look at her, she's white as a sheet! You just lost your key somewhere.'

You have no intention of telling him why you’re really turning white and you let yourself be supported by a concerned Hal. He accompanies you to the bathroom and then offers to get you a glass of water. You nod and enter the ladies room, but ignore the toilet.

'Hey,' you whisper as soon as you hear him walk away, 'I have the key.'

'Good', the warm voice of the Mandalorian says almost instantly. 'Can you get to the balcony on the east side?'

You noticed it when you were on the second floor earlier, so you respond affirmatively. Quickly, you open the door and when the coast turns out to be clear, you slip towards the stairs. Your braided bun wobbles up and down on the back of your head as you run upstairs, past a man and a woman who had clearly hoped for some privacy in the closed stairwell. Your headscarf falls down on your shoulders, but you ignore it and turn right twice, into a narrow corridor that opens onto a beautiful, gracefully domed balcony hanging many meters above the pass below you. It offers an amazing view of the volcanic, hilly landscape, but that doesn’t interest you very much at the moment. Panting, you put your hands on the balcony edge. What now?

Then you hear a strange, motor-like noise and the next moment, the Mandalorian appears in front of you. You almost let out a scream and step backwards.

'How are you doing that?', you hiss in bewilderment, staring at the man floating in the air.

'Jetpack', he answers shortly. 'Where's the key?'

It's his turn to be baffled when you put your hand down your dress and pull out the key. Suddenly he’s very glad that you can’t see his face.

The metal is still warm from your skin when you put it in Din's gloved hand.

'Go and blow up some stormtroopers for me, will you?', you say with a smile.

'Will do. Thanks.'

With those words, he flies away again. You gaze after him until he’s out of sight again, the same strange feeling from before distracting you to the point where you only notice the footsteps when they are right behind you.

~

Read the next part here.

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