#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.

Tag list: @buckysalefty @dark-academics-and-florals

[bippot]

Hercules and Megara - Chapter 3: One That Got Away

Story Summary -> Childhood friends have a habit of drifting apart. Usually, it's a natural thing. Usually, there's a slow detachment. Adrian never wanted to detach from his best friend. But he thought he had to.

Chapter 3: One That Got Away Summary -> With his pal back in town, Adrian can't help himself but integrate himself back into her life. She lets him in, but it's going to take more time for him to be forgiven.

Tags -> Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Friends to Lovers, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Childhood Friends, Parental Divorce, Fist Fights, Bullying

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Previous Chapter -> Fatal Flaw

In the time she'd gone, her parents had followed in the Chase's footsteps and began arguing day and night. The arguments always started somewhere: about bills or politics, whether or not to buy new furniture for the house, which room had to be redecorated. Then it would escalate into yelling over dinner and Y/N would just disappear to the safety of her room.

Just as it had been with his parents, the sound could be heard from the next house over. Adrian had no idea Y/N was forced to endure it alone until one day when he happened to look out of his window and saw her climbing up into her old tree house, presumably to get some peace and fucking quiet.

Before he could stop himself, he found a gift for her and climbed out of his window as he used to. Silently, he crept into her garden and slid the gift under the latch of the tree house door then hid so he wouldn't have to interact with her.

All of sudden a DVD appeared in front of Y/N. Since she was considerably taller and older than the last time she'd been inside her tree house, it was rather cramped. However, she sat cross legged in the middle and stared at the new item. Well, it wasn't new. It was old. 1997 out in cinemas. 99 on DVD. Hercules.

Only one person would've given her that. Adrian could swear he heard her audibly whimper as she realised what she was looking at. A minute later he swore there was a sad, "Thank you," and he hurried back to his house.

The movie gave her temporary relief. It wasn't the love story that brought her happiness – not really, if anything that made her feel worse. Instead, it reminded her how much she missed the simple times when she was still naïve and hopeful.

Even though she'd stopped believing in fairytales years ago, she couldn't help but think there must be someone out there who loved her. Because the world had certainly shown her otherwise so far. But, deep down, she knew better than to cling onto some pipe dream that the boy next door would fall to his knees and apologise for all he'd done, or rather, not done.

Whenever she felt like shit, she went to a shitty bar. She never drank too much. Never wanted to die drunk. Just needed to be numb for a while to let all this pain fade away. And it always did for a while, especially if she found a friend to share the night with. Someone who pretended to love her for at least a night was enough for now.

That's why, in the middle of a particularly shitty night, she knocked back another shot and stood outside for a breather. As she leant her head against the brick wall behind her, a stranger passed by dressed...well, dressed very strangely. "The fuck are you supposed to be? I didn't know comic con went on till midnight," she joked and the figure instantly turned around.

Vigilante. She'd heard of him. Had seen some pictures too. His image always stuck in her mind, even when she couldn't recall ever meeting him in person but something always seemed familiar about him.

"Don't tell me that you're going to kill me for loitering."

It took everything he had not to laugh. He looked her up and down, a grin tugging at his lips under his mask. But no, he didn't say a thing. He didn't say a fucking thing.

"Oh, if you see Chris Smith, tell him he's a prick from me, okay? I know Peacemaker's one of your buddy's. Name's Y/N. He probably won't remember," she continued as her voice got stronger. "Tell him that he's always been a cunt and my tits are still great."

Unsure what to do, Vigilante nodded. What was he supposed to say? He couldn't speak to her. She'd recognise his voice in no time. He lingered for a moment too long and she noticed the hesitation. She looked suspiciously into his masked eyes.

Then she suddenly smiled at him and teased, "What? You waiting for me to commit a crime so you can punish me, Viggy?" She walked towards him slowly, stopping a little bit too close for comfort. "I do like a man in uniform."

She reached out to touch his chest. Her fingers rested on the edge of his mask. He could feel the warmth from her fingertips seeping through the cloth, sending a chill up his spine. He swallowed hard, a gulp audible enough that she heard it and burst out laughing.

"I'm just messing with you. Fucking lighten up, dude."

He pulled back a little bit and tried to keep his composure, completely taken off guard by her presence. Of all the alleys he walked down, Adrian had to pass by Y/N on his patrol. It was fate. There was no way to avoid it, and yet he didn't want to meet her eye. He was embarrassed enough as it was.

"You seem uncomfortable," she said with a softer tone, one that he yearned to hear again, "You okay? I apologise."

Of course, he was not okay! His girl just offered herself to a stranger in a superhero costume without batting an eye. And the way she seemingly had no fear. Or maybe it wasn't a lack of fear, but the lack of self preservation was familiar.

Still, he couldn't find it within him to turn away from her. And when he did glance at her, he caught sight of those beautiful eyes of hers. He wished he didn't have his visor on so he didn't have the red tint when looking at her, when inspecting the colour of her eyes that he adored so much.

Alas, he did have his visor on. He sighed loudly to hide his embarrassment and stepped forward. He held out his hand and, when Y/N took it, he lifted the back of her hand to his covered lips and placed a gentle kiss there. And with that, he slinked away into the darkness.

What a weirdo, she thought. A silent broody type. Not that she hated that. No, she didn't mind it. She actually liked it.

Soon, her mind moved on from whatever had happened between her and Vigilante - although she did reflect back on it in the privacy of her room - and when she went to the same bar a couple of days later, she found a new guy. As they were making their way to his house, a masked freak showed up and gave Y/N an awkward salute when he saw her. The guy leaned across and inquired, "You know Vigilante?"

"Nope."

"Why is he walking towards us then? Are you a hooker?"

At his words, Y/N pulled herself out of his grasp and slapped him straight across the face. Hard. "Fuck you," she hissed and stalked off in the opposite direction without turning back. The guy stared after her for a few moments, shocked and confused as Vigilante passed him to catch up with Y/N.

Once Vigilante caught up with Y/N, he tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention. She turned to face him, ready to give him a piece of her mind, only to realise he wasn't who she thought it was.

"Hey, Vigilante."

At first, he went to respond but stopped himself and waved instead. He wasn't sure what to say because, if he opened his mouth, he might spill secrets. He'd already mislead her enough.

"Still not speaking, huh? That's okay. I get it. Everyone has their things," she assured and grinned. "Take me for example, I try and fill this hole in soul by searching out for the easiest fuck I can."

Her words stung him more than he'd expected them to. Sure, the last thing he wanted to admit was that he still had feelings for a woman who, for some inexplicable reason, had once loved him. He hated even admitting that he had emotions at all. But the fact that she was giving herself away so freely to men, which he assumed didn't deserve her, hurt him more than he could express.

"And don't worry, I make sure we use protection. A condom, not a gun. Well, some of them might have guns. I don't know. Maybe they do, maybe they don't." She chuckled to herself - who knows why - and asked, "Can I see your gun? No, that's not a euphemism."

With a sigh, he reached into his holster and handed her the gun, making sure the safety was on before it was in her hands, as she was clearly curious. "Totally safe with the safety on, right?" He nodded. "I mean, it is in the name."

She pressed the muzzle to the side of her head and tried to pull the trigger. Nothing.

"Yeah, definitely safe."

Had she gone insane? She attempted it again, but he snatched the gun back from her. He was not tempting fate twice tonight. Even though he knew it wouldn't work at all, he wasn't going to let her try again.

"Woah, woah. Could've asked nicely for it back, Viggy."

He shrugged and shoved the gun back into its holster. Y/N pouted her lower lip in disappointment, but soon enough, she shrugged her shoulders as well and abruptly kissed him on the cheek. "Well, I better get home before the witching hour approaches and I become another statistic."

Vigilante stood there as she pulled back and walked away. With a silent chuckle, he realised, "You're going the wrong way." Shit, he'd said it out loud. Shit. Really shit. Maybe she hadn't heard him at all. Hopefully.

Y/N stopped dead on her tracks and glanced over her shoulder, a curious smile forming on her lips. She walked back over to him, her steps slow as she tried to process what he'd said. Her eyes locked with his again and they remained glued together, locked in a staring contest for a while.

Did she know?

"Okay," she eventually replied quietly, almost whispering as she stepped closer. "Goodnight Vigilante." And then she left in the right direction this time, leaving Vigilante dumbfounded and even more speechless.

Adrian begged and begged John to fit a voice modifier into his mask so he would be able to talk properly around people. People? One person. Just one.

"No, dude. You'll break it in two minutes," Economos argued back, shaking his head and placing a hand over his face. John sighed heavily in exasperation and pushed the other hand further up to his forehead as if trying to shield his brain from the constant whining about to occur from the boy standing at his desk.

Harcourt eventually had to tell Adrian to shut up and drop the subject. How the hell was he going to keep his identity secret to Y/N now? She'd surely know something was amiss if he started speaking. His voice hadn't changed that much since they'd last seen each other so he had limited options.

That's it! He's ignoring her again. He'd done it before and could do it again.

Admittedly, it wasn't easy the first time. He vividly remembered one time when she had knocked on his door not long after he'd fucked her and he'd been hiding by the cabinet right next to the front door, desperate to hear her voice but knowing full well that he'd crumble if he saw her face.

"Ade, please open the door. We can forget about it if that's what you're worried about. I need to know that you're okay."

Nothing. He didn't respond. He sank deeper against the cabinet until he was fully sat on the floor with his back propped up against the wood.

"I can hear you in there."

Everything in him was telling him to just open the door. But no, he looked up at one of the family photos that was framed on the wall. He couldn't. Not if he wanted to be Hercules, and he needed to be Hercules.

A hero doesn't cry but he certainly was at that moment. He kept his eyes focused on Gut's face as he tried to drown out her pleading. And he did not like feeling so weak. He didn't want to feel like this anymore. And so he stayed silent as he curled into himself as tightly as he possibly could and waited and waited until she left.

And ignoring her he did. Well, he tried. The thing about being a woman is that men are weird and scary at times, especially in the types of dingy bars Y/N would go to. So, on occasion, if Y/N was walking with a guy, Vigilante made sure he was right behind them. It was the least he could do.

His reasons for stalking were chivalrous, at least it was in Vigilante's head. It was dark out, and she was the most beautiful woman in the town, nay, the entire world, so he didn't want anything to happen to her. Plus, it was like he was spending time with her without having to explain himself.

One day, that particular scenario had played out as it usually did. Bar. Drinks. "Hey, do you want to come back to mine?" The staggered walk to his apartment. It was happening, beat by beat. Then Y/N and whoever the fuck she'd chosen that night turned the corner into an alleyway.

Two drunk targets were better than one.

"Phone. Wallets. Now!" The robber exclaimed, flicking his knife between the two. Her date waited for a moment where their assailant's focus was on Y/N and took that opportunity to run for it, leaving behind the intoxicated woman in the alleyway with the armed criminal.

It was all too easy for Vigilante to step in. He rushed up and waved at the robber, putting on his normal playful act. Usually, it wasn't an act. This time it was. Y/N's safety was something he took incredibly seriously.

The criminal was completely taken aback by Vigilante's sudden appearance in his line of sight and he dropped the knife, trying to run away as soon as he saw a chance. The robber looked as if he was running for his life because, well, he was. Vigilante picked the knife up off the ground and flung it at the bad guy, hitting him in the back of the skull. He fell to the ground with a thud, his body splashing in the puddle below. He didn't get up. He couldn't. He was dead.

"You could've just knocked him out!"

Okay, okay, Adrian, you can do it. It was stupid but the only idea that he'd had to talk to her was to use an accent so, with the most broken, awful sounding cartoonish voice, he replied, "Oh yeah, knocking out? That's not my style. Don't know if you heard."

"Woah, that is not what I expected you to sound like," Y/N said, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes.

"What am I supposed to sound like?"

"I don't fucking know. Definitely not like you're an extra in A Goofy Movie."

This brought a wide smile to Vigilante's face, not that she could see it behind his mask. Even when he'd just killed a guy in front of her, she was teasing him? God help her, she was such an idiot still.

As he was beaming at her, he didn't realise that she was slowly getting closer to the body on the ground. Call it morbid curiosity, but she'd only ever seen dead bodies in crime scene photos in court and, yeah, being inside the photo was so much different. Being in this close proximity was making everything in her feel so strange that she felt a bit lightheaded and dizzy.

And when he finally noticed that she was kneeling, he panicked. "Wait! What are you doing?!" He yelled out as he grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her backwards, dragging her out of the danger zone. She stumbled backwards slightly, but quickly regained her footing.

She yanked herself out of his grasp and silently pushed past him, hurrying away from the murder site. For fucks sake. He had just saved her life, and this is how he was rewarded. "I saved your life!" He shouted after her, the accent truly becoming something so grating in the quiet streets, but she simply continued walking away from him.

But she didn't make it away from him. He grabbed her shoulder as he caught up with her and spun her around so that her front collided roughly with his chest. She gasped loudly, nearly losing her breath, and shot a look of pure anger towards the man whose hands gripped her and who loomed dangerously over her, threateningly towering down on her.

"Don't I get a thank you?"

"Stop following me, you creepy fucking cunt."

Blue and red lights could be seen coming towards them so he wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her down a new alley. "Get your hands off me or I'll scream as loud as I can," she warned, struggling to swat his hands away.

'Why was she being so difficult?', he thought. Oh right, because he was a strange man in a costume who had stalked her and physically pushed her into a dark alley. That was why. Still, she could scream at any minute causing that cop car to come running, so he brought his gloved hand to her mouth and pinned her against the wall, reassuring her, "Y/N, I'm not going to do anything to hurt you."

After a moment, she relaxed and her breathing evened out. He knew she was still wary, though, so he whispered into her ear, "Just stay calm, okay?" Her eyes narrowed and she glared daggers into the side of his face, but nodded nonetheless as the cop car passed them.

When it seemed that he had believed her and eased up on the force he was holding against her, she clamped her teeth down on his hand. He hissed in pain and let go of her. "Ow!" he yelled, rubbing his hand. And now he would have a bruise. The padding of his glove helped, but that was one hell of a bite.

Now she was free. She could run. She should at least try. Yet, she already witnessed one attempt to flee from Vigilante and that didn't go well. So, with nothing better to do, she settled with her back against the brick wall and took some deep breaths as she watched him whine about her injury.

"Sorry."

"What did you say, Viggy?" She asked with annoyance laced in her voice. She wasn't in the mood to deal with any more drama. Just thinking about the situation, alone in the darkness - with the stranger who just attacked her? saved her? both? - was not how she intended to spend her time.

"I'm sorry that I made you feel unsafe enough that you had to bite me."

That was the last thing she expected. She stared up at Vigilante with an expression somewhere between incredulity and shock. Had he really just apologised? She opened her mouth to ask, but decided against it, figuring that he was probably only joking and just wanted her to shut up.

"I won't try to touch you again, don't worry."

"What if I want you to?" she teased with that smirk he'd seen her talk to guys with before. He blushed and averted his gaze. How dare she. Who does that?! He wondered. Was it possible for a woman to have such power over him that he can't resist her? Maybe...

Maybe he could try as Vigilante. It hadn't worked as Adrian. She could give Vigilante a chance.

He looked back up at her, taking notice of how pretty she was in the moonlight. Her hair had fallen forward, giving her an adorable little curl at her temple. And the way her eyes shone under the streetlights... It was like staring right at the stars.

No. No, he can't even consider it.

Too lost in his head once again, he failed to watch as she got closer until suddenly she was standing directly in front of him. In all honesty, he had no idea what to do when confronted with someone who was so close and yet so far. There was no space between them. His eyes met hers; they were filled with so many emotions that, for a second, his breath caught in his throat.

It was all so complicated, all tangled and confused.

"I have to go," he blurted out and tried to hurry away, but she grabbed him by the waist and pulled him closer to her before he could get away. Her grip wasn't tight, if anything it was barely there, but he couldn't get out of it even if he tried.

"If you don't let go of me, I will shoot you in the leg," he threatened. He'd never do that. He just hoped she thought he would. When it seemed as if she wouldn't, he unsheathed his pistol and held it under her chin, his index finger lightly pressed against the trigger to make sure she wouldn't move.

"The safety is on."

A few seconds went by and neither of them moved. She stood there, watching every move that he made, her eyes full of defiance. But then suddenly, almost imperceptibly, his hand slid onto her hip and slowly backed them to the wall, pushing her up against it.

His gaze flicked down to her lips, which parted ever so slightly at the movement. He leaned even further towards her, their noses brushing together. Then, without thinking twice, his eyes snapped open and he jumped back.

"Shit!" he cursed and began to stalk off into the night, yelling a very agitated "I've been your friendly neighbourhood Vigilante and this interaction has been hell. I hope we never meet again," over his shoulder before he ran off, hoping beyond reason to God that his stupid heart wasn't betraying him and he wasn't going to crawl back to her like the scared pussy he used to be.

Despite Vigilante's wishes, they did meet again. And it was his fault. He could've chosen not to climb through her window like he always used to, but he had lost a fair bit of blood and wasn't thinking straight.

Whenever he was injured or just about to go on a mission, he had a tendency to think about texting her just in case he died. There were thousands of drafts in his notes app where he tried to explain himself and his actions over the years. After all this time, he still didn't have the right words. He had tried and tried, but nothing he came up with would be good enough.

So when he climbed through her window with blood dripping freely from his wound, she really wasn't expecting it. At first, she grabbed the nearest bash-able object, which was a vase, and was about to smash it over his head when she noticed who it was.

Without helping or making a sound, she observed as he flopped face first onto her floor, the blood from the wound spreading across her hardwood floors. Then, she left the room.

Was it to call the police? Get a proper weapon to finish him off? Tell her parents that a masked madman had broken in?

None of these scenarios had even crossed her mind. She soon returned with a towel and the first aid kit that they had always kept on the second shelf of the bathroom on the ground floor. Adrian recognised it. How could he not? They used it enough times when they were kids.

Sitting up, he looked down at the slash on his thigh. Fuck. It was deep and oozing. He knew that if it had been a couple of inches to the right, it certainly would've hit his femoral artery and he would be dead in fucking no time. "I think I'm going to need stitches," he said, trying to keep his voice calm and level, but still disguised, which was difficult.

"Can I take your trousers off?"

Now was not the time to get a boner, Adrian. Control yourself. "At least buy me dinner first, pervert," he joked. Then she gestured to his wound. Now he understood and nodded. She took his shin padding off in no time. His shoes took a while longer. Utility belt and trousers were soon after. "You could've just cut me out of them."

Silence again as she knelt beside him and surveyed his wound. It was deep and bleeding profusely, but somehow she stayed relatively calm by pushing everything deep down inside her - she couldn't afford to show fear now - not when Vigilante could either die in her bedroom or kill her because she wasn't helping him then die.

"Is it bad? Am I going to bleed out?"

"Stay still."

With those words she quickly started working on his wound, stopping the bleeding as best she could and cleaning the area with a disinfectant wipe. She was being as gentle as possible, but it still hurt and he whined like a bitch the entire time. He felt terrible for making her clean it for him, but at this point it was a necessary evil.

"I thought you said you never wanted to see me again." Her gaze flickered from her work to his visor and then back again, and her voice was steady and calm despite the panic she felt. That much she could control. She continued working on patching up his wound and ignored the fact that his body shifted slightly with every move she made. His chest rose with each inhale, his breathing ragged and heavy as he tried not to cry out from the pain.

She was trying not to listen to the stuttered gasps escaping from his mouth while he laid helpless on her floor as she sewed him up, but it was impossible not to. And then there was the way his muscles contracted. He looked completely spent and vulnerable beneath her hands.

"I said 'I hope we never meet again'. There is a difference," he said and breathed deeply while closing his eyes momentarily to gather strength, though the pain he felt was making that extremely difficult.

"Is this not us meeting again?"

"No, this is me breaking into your house to ask for medical assistance."

"You didn't even ask."

Moving on to bandage him up, she didn't realise the way his gaze had drifted to the pictures on her wardrobe door. He'd been leaning against it and spotted the one picture that didn't have him in it. The one of her at a college party. The one where she smiled so happily and looked so carefree... without him. Without him having been the cause of her suffering.

"Who's that guy? The one in all of them?" he asked, gesturing to the picture.

"...Nobody important."

Oh, how that shot him straight through the heart. So painfully painful. He was physically hurting so badly but that? Somehow that was worse. More devastating. Even though he was trying not to let his face change too much, his whole body tensed up at her answer and he started clenching his jaw as the tears started to well up behind his mask.

How pathetic could he possibly be? He didn't want to cry. But that single sentence shattered whatever fragile barrier he managed to build up around himself, and his whole posture slumped at once, making him look like a deflated balloon. She noticed immediately and stopped what she was doing, her fingers hovering over his wound, unsure what to do next.

Before she could stop herself, she placed her palm against his cheek and turned his head up to look at her. The moment their eyes met, something inside her cracked and gave way to the truth. She knew exactly why he wanted to know that man, the one that sounded like him, the one that had the same eyes as him. Yet, something in him refused to acknowledge it. He wanted to carry on playing pretend and she would allow him that luxury for now.

"Let's get you somewhere more comfy, huh?" she suggested, her hand still resting on his cheek gently, gently tracing the lines of his jaw until it reached his cheekbone. It made him shiver.

Vigilante nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and allowed her to help him stand up and guide him to her bed where she helped him lay down, easing him into an upright position with her back propped up on pillows. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Neither of them knew what to say. He just stared at the ceiling, just like he always used to.

It was so strange being back in her room after everything. He'd spent so much time here. The majority of the first twenty two years of his life was spent right where he was lying at the moment. He felt nostalgic, like it was all happening all over again.

"Do you want some painkillers?" she offered.

He shook his head. "Just stay with me," he whispered and turned to face her again. She was sitting beside him now, watching him carefully like he was a ticking time bomb. She hesitated and then moved to sit by him as close to him as possible.

They sat like that, shoulder to shoulder, not saying a word for a long time as she brought her laptop onto her lap and continued with her job search. As Adrian stared intently at her screen, watching every small movement she made, he was starting to feel like he was home again.

Getting beat up and nearly bleeding out is tiring business so Adrian couldn't help it when his eyes slowly fluttered shut. Unexpectedly, Y/N felt a thump on her shoulder and looked across to see the masked freak asleep against her side. She was stunned for a second before she realised that he needed to sleep, so she put away her laptop and kissed the top of his head.

"I still love you, Ade."

The pair hung out in her room every night that he could for weeks and weeks. He would finish up with his crime-fighting, buy two candy bars from a gas station (which was quite a funny sight for the cashier, who got to see a man dressed in hockey pads and tinted fashion glasses buying snacks) and climb through her window.

Sometimes he fell asleep - and he soon found that sleeping in the mask wasn't the most comfortable thing in the entire world but it was worth it - other times he would lie next to her, quietly whispering everything he had done that night even if she had nodded off before he got there. She'd know if he'd stopped by because there would be a kit-kat on her desk when she woke up.

And the best part? It was such a nice feeling, that familiar sensation of comfort that he craved for whenever she was near. Every time she touched him or held him or simply looked at him, it filled his soul with warmth and light and joy and bliss and it really felt like coming home. It felt like being a part of a family again. It meant that they belonged together; and nothing was ever going to tear them apart. Not this time.

During this time, Y/N had been rejected for almost all the jobs she applied for. She assumed that Lex Luther would blacklist her from the law firms in and around Chicago, but no, he'd extended his reach across the country apparently. It was increasingly infuriating and frustrating.

So, here she was, at Fennel Fields. After all her studying and hard work to be an actual lawyer, she was handing her resume in to an 'authentic' Italian diner for a chance to clean cutler for a living. That was what her student debt amounted to? How delightful.

Why not get a bite to eat while she was here? It would mean she didn't have to endure the daily dinner table arguments between her parents. She enjoyed Italian food. The server walked up and asked, "What can I get you, miss?"

Oh, she knew that voice. She hadn't heard it in a while. "Frankie Oswald? Been a long time," she greeted.

"Hey, Y/N. Long time, no see. You don't plan on kicking me, do you?" He joked, flipping his notepad open.

"Not unless you step out of line."

Stepping out of line didn't seem like a thing Frankie did anymore.

"I promise I won't. Don't want any more broken ribs, remember?" he winked, and she laughed before shaking her head in embarrassment.

"Did I ever apologise for that?" she wondered aloud as Frankie handed her the menu, giving her a curious look in return.

"Don't think so..."

"Well, I apologise for kicking the living shit out of you."

This earned a laugh and smile from Frankie which instantly eased the tension in her shoulders that she had no idea was even there to begin with. "You're forgiven," he said before playfully adding, "Now order something. Or else I'll have to throw you out."

With a grin on her lips, she ordered a pasta dish and watched Frankie move to take another order, unaware that her presence had been noticed by a certain busboy whose expression suddenly became very serious upon seeing her. She tried not to notice. She just wanted to focus her energy on her meal. Her appetite, however, seemed to have deserted her as soon as she laid eyes on him again.

Adrian's face hadn't been seen by her in so long. It was always mask on with stupid voice coming out of it. Now he wasn't Vigilante. He was Adrian. This was the face that had hurt her.

"Hey, Y/N. Water?" he asked nervously as he stood in front of her table, jug in hand, fidgeting uncomfortably. He wasn't sure whether or not it was appropriate to go up to her. There was a lot he needed to say, things he needed to explain as himself, but not here.

"Uh, yeah. Thank you," she replied, trying to sound polite and nonchalant. And yet, her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his actual voice. His real voice. "I didn't know that you work here."

"Worked here for a while."

"Oh... Good for you."

"Yeah."

Awkward. So very, very awkward. He hated how stiff and unnatural their conversation was. But what could he say? What could he tell her?

"Better get back to work, I suppose." He said instead, turning towards the door.

"Right."

That was the end of the conversation. Why, oh why, hadn't he said more? What was wrong with him? All these years he'd kept words locked up deep in his soul where none would be able to hear them anymore until the moment they'd actually be face to face and he blew it.

Just as he was walking away, he heard a quiet, "Ade?" It took all the courage he possessed to face her again as his heart was beating painfully inside his chest.

Then she stood and took the jug from his hands, placing it on the table so there would be nothing in the way when she hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face into the crook of her neck. The scent of that orange smelling body wash that she clearly still used hit him, and just like that, everything came crashing down on top of him. His grip tightened around her torso and he let out a soft whimper. She didn't say anything, simply hugging him tighter than before, stroking the nape of his neck soothingly.

As soon as he realised that he was about to begin sobbing quietly into the crook of her neck, he pulled away immediately. "I, uh, need the... bathroom," he mumbled quickly, rushing away from her before she or any of his coworkers saw any tears welling up in his eyes.

He went straight to the bathroom. Once inside, he closed the door behind him and leaned heavily against the wall, sliding down to the floor. His knees were pressed up to his chin and his breathing came out shakily.

For God's sake, why was he reacting like this? Why couldn't he have kept it cool? Why couldn't he have stayed strong and collected? Why couldn't he just stop crying and pretend that he hadn't been hurting for so long already? Everyday without her seeing him as Adrian had been so hollow and empty. During their hug, he felt complete again for the first time in years, so why was he crying?

Taking some time to calm down and give himself a pep talk in the mirror, he finally left the bathroom, determined to go back to work as if nothing had happened. No big deal, right? Everything was fine, and he could continue his normal life like nothing was happening. Adrian tried to complete the rest of his shift without getting distracted by her presence once but eventually he failed to hide the fact that he had been glancing back at her during his shifts. He'd soon find himself smiling stupidly when their gazes met.

Okay, maybe they could be fixed. He couldn't work out why she wasn't as angry as he assumed she'd be, but that was something he wasn't going to delve deeper on.

After his shift (and long after she left the restaurant), Adrian decided he was going to make things right. He'd bought a big, overpriced bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine, and a small box of chocolates, hoping that somehow they'd be able to repair the cracks in their friendship and become best friends again.

Peacemaker wouldn't like being replaced but it had to be done. There could only be one person who took the top spot and that was always going to be Y/N.

However, Adrian's plan was interrupted as he was just about to jump her fence and climb up to her window. He could see her light on and knew for a fact that she was inside. He'd known her long enough to know how many times she sat up watching late night TV alone.

"Chris, not going to lie, dude, I'm super busy right now."

"No you're not. Mission time, dumbass."

"Dude, please..."

"Harcourt's orders."

Fucking Harcourt! Can't he have one minute of peace? Today had been so weird and, while murdering people would be an enjoyable way to pass the time, Adrian wanted to take it easy. Well, as easy as it was going to be admitting to the girl he loved that he did, in fact, still love her and never stopped despite how it looked.

There's always tomorrow, he thought. She'd waited long enough. What was one day more?

Y/N had expected Vigilante to visit after her interaction with Adrian. Nope. Didn't show. The next, he was a no-show again. And the next and the next and the next.

It happened again.

Maybe she should give up on him again. How many times had she given him to accept her love and affection only for him to ignore her. Every morning, she eagerly anticipated waking to find a left behind kit kat or anything that signified that he'd been there. Even the lights in his house no longer seemed to be on at any point. It was as if he wasn't there at all anymore. There was no sign of Adrian or Vigilante. If he was avoiding her, he must be avoiding everyone because nobody at Fennel Fields had seen him either.

No message. No note. No correspondence with anyone in over a week. Now, while that wasn't completely out of the ordinary for him, Y/N had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. A bad feeling that was warranted as she got a call on his eighth day of disappearance from, not from the number Vigilante had given her like she expected, but from Adrian's number.

"Adrian?"

"Um, no, this is Peacemaker on Adrian's phone," Chris corrected, unsure whether Y/N knew the truth or not. Adrian used to tell her everything. Used was the main word there.

"Oh," was all she could manage to say.

"Are you in Evergreen?"

Chris proceeded to tell her everything about the situation they were faced with and no wonder he hadn't snuck into her room for a while: he was busy being unconscious. Peacemaker had warned Vigilante to put his seatbelt on as they were in a car chase, but he had argued that he couldn't reach out of the window to shoot if he was restricted by the belt. When another car rammed them, Vigilante got all shook up and passed out when he slammed into the airbag.

If it hadn't been for that airbag, that dumb slut would've been dead. He wasn't dead, but he had hit his head really hard and hadn't woken up yet. The 11th Street Kids had no idea what to do. They had tried talking to him. Playing his favourite TV show, which they thought was Fargo because he had mentioned it before (it's actually Sonic Underground). Chris had even made a voice recording of him saying, "Best buddy, you've got to get up, dude," and played it over and over. Nothing seemed to work.

All seemed lost until Adrian muttered, "Y/N," in his vegetative state.

"Who the fuck is Y/N?" Emilia declared. Adrian blabbed about everything. There was no way he had never told them about this Y/N.

"His best friend."

"I thought you were his best friend?" Adebayo asked sceptically. Adrian numbered his best friends and frequently told them where they fell. Y/N had been omitted from the list.

Peacemaker took Adrian's phone and showed the others his background - a picture of Y/N and him when they were young and dressed in matching pyjamas, holding each other as they sat on the sofa together, Adrian's head resting on top of his best friend's while they watched Power Rangers.

"I'll be there as fast as I can," Y/N informed them, searching for her car keys immediately And she was there literally as fast as she possibly could. She got a speeding ticket and ran a red light on the way to the hospital. That wasn't what she was worried about at that moment.

The second she stepped foot into the hospital and caught sight of Chris, sitting in the waiting room looking more miserable than ever, she broke out into a hastened walk, not quite a jog but definitely faster than acceptable in a hospital.

Through the glass of his hospital room window, there was no denying who it was, even when he was banged up and without his glasses. Adrian was wired up and out cold in front of her with the heart rate monitor beside him as the only indication that he wasn't dead. Her mind instantly went blank and she didn't know what to do.

Next Chapter -> Earning A Soul Back

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