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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

Text

The Late Shift

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: There’s actually none (I hope). I know. I’m surprised too.

Authors Note: This is so dumb. I’m aware. Look, I’ve been dealing with a horrendous writers block and shattered confidence and I made Paul Sevier gifs to ease my pain. It turned into this. I just wanted to try something a little cute and fluffy to get back into the swing of things. So... here it is.

It was going to be a long night.

Stuck on the Wednesday evening shift for the third time this month, you mindlessly fiddled with the pen in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, your mind drifted away from the present moment, wondering why your boss seemed to dislike you so much to keep you here past 6pm in the middle of the week. He’d always been adamant this was prime selling time for this boutique suit store, with corporate clients needing to do their shopping outside of normal business hours.

You, however, knew keeping this place open was senseless, barely seeing more than a few unenthusiastic customers in these agonizingly slow stretches. Working on commission also made you all the more bitter about being paid minimum wage to stand behind a counter and doodle sketches of imaginary clients dressed in the outfits you personally tailored. This isn’t where you thought a Bachelor of Arts in Fashion Design would take you, that’s for sure.

“H-hello,” you heard a deep voice quietly greet you, startling you into focus. “Are you busy? I… think I need a little help.”

Eyes flickering up from the notepad, you were sure your pupils blew wide at the sight of the man in front of you. Standing at an imposingly large height, his hair a severely murky shade of black, with honeyed irises shining brightly behind delicate spectacles.

A human personification of tall, dark and handsome. Well, except for the clothes.

The stranger wore the layered combination of a grey tweed jacket and argyle patterned sweater, arranged over a particularly heinous, mustard-coloured button up. While the ensemble made you internally cringe, it gave him an air of intelligence, like the kind that hangs around stuffy, old college professors who have more academic accolades than you have fingers and toes.

“Me?” you coughed out, knowing full well you were the only other person in this tiny little shop. “Uh, yeah. I mean- No, no I’m not busy. What is it you need help with?” Even when you stood, the man towered above you, making you silently begin to calculate the high-numbered measurements you’d need to fit him in something.

“I have an important meeting scheduled for Friday. You know, the type you need to wear a suit to?” Evidently the thought of it made him nervous, as you noticed his cheek twitch slightly, his eyes scanning momentarily at the garments filling the space. “I’m… uh… not so great with clothes.”

Clearly, you chuckled inside your head, holding the word from your tongue. “You want me to pick out something for you?”

He took a defeated breath, his mouth twisting into an awkward yet wonderfully endearing smile. “Would you mind? Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble!” you burst, maybe a little too excitedly. “It’s my job!” Bounding out from behind the counter you’d been imprisoned by, you moved directly to the section of classic navy business suits. Slim line. Something to accentuate his well-built frame, rather than hide it away. You had to pause, swivelling back around to the dumbfounded man. “Is price an issue… uh…?”

“Paul,” he answered for you, slowly moving to where you stood. “And… I suppose not. Probably should spend the money on something that will last. If you think it’s a good idea.”

Oh thank god, you mused without showing the relief on your face. He’s not some rich asshole trying to flash his cash. “A good suit can last you five years, if you treat it right.” Your hand reached over to graze one of the deepened blue sleeves of a jacket at your left. “And a classic colour will never go out of style.”

Paul let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I think you’ve already noticed how lacking in style I am…” He glanced to your nametag, murmuring your name with a goofy smirk curling his lips. You’d never seen a grown man, especially not one of this stature, appear so adorable. It was horribly distracting.

“I’m sure you have expertise in other areas,” you stumbled, realizing only when the words came out how offensive they might seem. Yet Paul conceded to your comment, his rumbling laugh making your chest feel tight.

“Debatable,” he shrugged. “I’m just glad I found some qualified personnel to help me in this instance.”

Oh boy. Humble and charming? You were in so much trouble. Surely someone as sweet as this had another waiting for them at home. “I’m sure your partner could help you pick out something nice too.”

“Not an option in my case.”

Shit. Single too. You were truly fucked.

You turned, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat by focusing on finding an outfit that would contain his longer limbs. Plucking out a matching jacket and trouser set, with an ivory, collared button-up, you offered them to Paul, his features having melted into a sweetened look of intrigue. “Go and try these on. There’s a changeroom just behind the counter. See how they feel, and we can go from there.”

He nodded, taking the pieces with both of his large hands and shuffling away to where you’d pointed to. No sooner than the latch had locked were you dashing to where your phone was sitting at the register, flitting out a rushed text message to your favourite co-worker.

There was rustling you heard emanating from the changeroom stall, doing your best to ignore the urge of picturing Paul, a man you’d met only minutes ago, gradually slipping off his clothes to reveal the toned muscles underneath. You grimaced at yourself, shaking your head to banish the imaginations. God this was unprofessional.

Finally, a response lit up on your phone screen.

You laughed softly through your nose, about to type a reply when you heard the lock click open again. The breath in your lungs was stuck as Paul made his way out, the expensive textiles draping over his burly frame in a way that made your whole body tense.

He rustled a hand through his hair, looking up to you while fidgeting with the starchy material stretched over his chest. “Does it look okay?”

After all these years working this job, the enticing novelty of attractive men in well-fitted suits had slowly worn off, especially when most of them treated you with about as much respect as the used gum they spit out onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, all those preconceived notions were gone. On Paul, this ensemble instantly became the most captivating thing in the entire universe.

The inside of your mouth flooded with saliva, having to swallow hard before speaking again. “Great… it looks… great.” You did your best to conceal a settling exhale. “What do you think? How does it feel?”

Paul shifted to look at his reflection in the mirror, pupils trailing up and down, flexing his limbs in an attempt to get a proper impression of the new apparel. “It feels really good. Makes me look… sophisticated.” He turned to you, his expression unsure. “Right?”

Your smile was sparkling, nodding to his question. There was a small amount of work to do, noting how in your effort to make sure everything complemented his physique, you’d oversized him. The waistline of the jacket needed to be taken in, the shoulder lines sitting slightly off, and the trouser length needing to be taken up slightly. “A couple of adjustments and it’ll be perfect.”

“You mean taking it to be tailored?”

“No need.” You pulled out the wheel of berry pins from your pocket, kneeling down on the floor next to Paul’s feet. “All our tailoring is included in the price. Done completely in house.” You began to fold the bottom edge of his pants, pinning it to an adequate length. “I can have it ready for you tomorrow, all ready for your Friday meeting.”

“You do all the tailoring yourself?” Paul asked as you slinked another pin through the fabric.

“Sure do,” you chirped, moving onto the other leg. “3 years at a design school taught me a few things about cutting and sewing.” With the hemlines in place, you straightened in front of him, plucking out a roll of measuring tape from your other pocket. “I just… need to take a few measurements to properly alter the jacket.”

His cheek twitched, the line of his jaw seeming somewhat strained. “Sure. F-fine. Do what you gotta do."

You went with determining his arm length first, feeling out the boney point of his shoulder and striping the lined tape all the way down to his wrist. Then, after taking a deep inhale, you curled your arms around his hips, focusing hard on the little black numbers to ignore the fact Paul’s breath had started to skate over your skin with this close proximity. It was when you were lining up the thickened stripes indicating his chest circumference that you made the mistake of peering up, finding his alluring stare fully concentrated on you.

There was a moment. A spark to waiting kindling. Where impulse could have led you to do a dangerous thing. You’d never been the hasty type, never acted without considerable thought. Usually so shy and composed, never making the first move. Although right now, you could scarcely hold yourself back, desperate to know the sensation of Paul’s lips, how they’d move over yours, what they tasted like.

No. This was so inappropriate.

The compulsion was about to wither away when you felt a hand skim up your waist, the lightened touch shooting a thrill over your skin.

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice called from your side. “How much are these dress socks?”

You immediately stepped back, smacked into reality again. “$12.99. Exactly what it says on the box.”

The older gentlemen scrutinized the packaging, lids narrowed until he finally saw the numbers plastered at the border. “Oh, right. Eh, a little expensive for my taste. Thanks anyway.”

Flustered, you began to coil the measuring tape into its resting spiral, forcefully glaring at the floor. “I’m all done. You can get dressed into your own clothes now.”

In your periphery you saw Paul regarding you with a gentle nod, walking back into the changeroom without another word. Every part of you wanted to sink beneath the wooden floorboards, so horrendously embarrassed you could feel a smoldering heat prickle at your cheeks. Only to relieve some of the nervous energy, you ran to your phone.

Again, Paul was exiting out of the stall just as you were going to submit your reply, placing the neatly arranged garments over the counter. It was difficult to look directly at him, having to summon all remaining shards of your courage to drift your eyes up to his face. “Was there anything else you needed?”

His mouth parted, only to quickly snap shut, scratching at his hairline in the seconds it took for him to give you a response. “No. Nothing else. Unless there’s something more you think I need.”

You shook your head, wishing you could give another answer just to keep him here. “You’re all set.” The full price of his items flashed on the monitor in front of you, spouting it to him as your fingers flicked across the keyboard to finalize the purchase, with a personal discount that wouldn’t show on the receipt.

“When should I come by to pick it up?” he queried, passing you his credit card. “Oh, but there’s no pressure. Whenever you have the time is just fine.”

An idea flared. “If you give me your number, I can text you when it’s ready.”

“That works for me.”

Erasing all evidence of the conversation you’d been having, you brought up the number pad, handing your phone over. Paul swiftly typed in his details before placing it back in your palm. ‘Paul the Suit Guy’ the contact read, unable to stifle your laugh.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His eager expression made your heart quiver through a beat.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll see you then.”

Paul waved his hand in an awkward flourish to signal his goodbye, eventually moving far enough from your vision for you to finally take a full, relaxed breath. In a dazed hurry, you keyed in your returning message to your co-worker.

It was the precise moment your thumb had pressed into the ‘Send’ button that you realised your recipient wasn’t the one you’d intended.

You’d sent this message straight to Paul.

Fuck. Oh fuck. This was bad.

While you were scrambling to formulate a believable excuse, a new message popped up onto the screen.

Tags for my lovelies who might tolerate this nonsense: @tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @blackberries45 @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynzandtonic @beskarbabs

#paul sevier #paul sevier x reader #paul sevier x female reader #midnight special #adcu #adcu fanfiction

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supernaturalgirl20 · 3 years

Text

The List!

Part one

Pairings: Max Phillips x reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, p in v smut, cursing, slight sub/dom, maybe some angst, fluff if you squint.

Summary: your the new co-sales manager, sent in to better manage the human work force. This is something Max doesn’t like, not one bit. He wants you out, but what happens when you offer him a proposition he can’t refuse!

A/N: I know (another one) I actually can’t help myself 😌 this is sort of an enemies to lovers type story.

*Comments and reblogs really appreciated*

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“We are delighted to have you on the team Y/N, you will be a breath of fresh air, and honestly we need someone to rain Max in a bit.”

“I’m delighted to be here, I can’t wait to get stuck in.”

“I have to warn you, Max is not going to take to this well, he see himself as the boss and that’s it.”

“Ted, you don’t have to worry about me, I can handle Max.”

“If your sure? Ok I’m going to call a meeting in 5 and introduce you to everyone.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

****

Standing outside Teds office door you can hear him tell the team that corporate have decided to have a human co-sales manager.

“Wait wait wait, circle back there, what was that, I could have sworn you just said a co-sales manager.” Max laughs and pats Ted on the back.

“Now I know that ain’t right, why do we need another manager. I’m doing great.”

“Oh you are, just they feel your better suited to just manage the vampire work force. Anyway without further ado let me introduce the new co-sales manager Y/N.”

You walk into the office to a small round of applause. You can hear someone say “dammmnn, she’s hot.” You smile at that before you set your sights on Max. He has an obnoxious grin on his face. He rakes his eyes over your form before pulling you into a hug.

“Don’t get to comfortable, sugar tits, you won’t be here long enough.”

You turn to the rest of the employees “look I’m not here to step on anyone’s toes, I’m just here to do my job, which is make sales. For those of you still human, you will be dealing with me now. This is going to be my office, and my door is open for whatever you need.”

You chance a look at Max and he is fuming.

***

The day is uneventful as you pull all the human employees in one by one, running them through your expectations. You’d come to realise that your going to have your work cut out as some of them appear to be quite unmotivated. As your days draws to a close, your pulled from your notes by your office door being slammed shut forcefully. Looking up your greeted with the sight of Max standing over your desk staring at you, much like a predator would his prey.

“Something I can help you with? Or are you just going to continue to stare at me.”

“Listen up sugar tits, this is my office, you got it. I’ve worked too damn hard to get this place in shape and I’m not about to have some prime piece of pussy walk in here and ruin it all.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere Max.” You push back your chair and stand. You slowly make your way over to him, making sure to sway your hips as you do. You run your hand down his red tie before pulling on it, bringing him closer. You move your face closer to his, slowly, licking your bottom lip. To him it looks like your about to kiss him, until you move your head slightly and press your lips to his ear.

“How did you know I love dirty talk?” Pulling away you suck on his ear lobe, smiling when you hear him moan.

He moves his hand under you chin so your looking directly at him.

“Has anyone ever told you, you have the most beautiful eyes?”

“Thank you.” You say in a slow drawn out tone.

“Your going to go to Ted and tell him you can’t do the job, it’s too much.”

“Yeah, I’ll go now then.”

“And after, you can circle back and give me a goodbye blowjob.”

“Of course.”

You turn and walk towards your office door, knowing he’s watching you. You reach for the handle, but instead turn the lock. Max is confused as you turn around to face him.

You give him a sadistic smile, before stalking towards him.

“You honestly thought you could glamour me? Ha…your a bigger idiot than I thought. You didn’t expect me to start working here without doing my research did you?”

“That’s not possible!”

“What? That it didn’t work, please there is a lot you clearly don’t know.” You move your hand to your eye and remove a contact lens.

“These, block whatever magic or whatever it is you got going on. Also if you think I haven’t informed my employees of this fact then you really are an idiot. Now is that all? I’m quite busy.”

You go to sit back down when your suddenly pinned to the desk. Ass up and pressed against something hard. Your laughing now.

“Max, if you wanted to fuck all you had to do was ask.”

He pulls you towards him, burying his head in your neck. He breaths you in and a shiver runs through him going straight to his already throbbing cock. You can feel him hard at your ass, so you grind your ass back into him and he lets out a low growl.

“Don’t start something unless you mean to finish it.”

“Who says I’m not?”

Ripping your skirt he quickly opens the button on his trousers, freeing his cock. Moving your panties to the side he thrusts into you hard, knocking the air out of your lungs. He pins you to the desk, hand pushing your head down, as he pounds into you again and again.

“This what you wanted huh, for me to give you a good fuck? I think I like you like this..uh….me fucking you…..showing you..uh…who’s the real boss.”

“Yes….fuck yes.”

“That’s it…..take all of me….like a good…little…..girl.”

That heat is stirring in you and as he moves his hand to your clit rubbing it in circles, your vision becomes slight hazy, it’s like a wildfire is burning within you. It shoots through you and then he hits just the right spot and you explode in his arms.

“Fuck…..Max!”

His pace become erratic as his nears his own release, pounding into you again hard, before he spills inside you. He rests his weight on top of you before pulling out and tucking himself back in. Fixing his tie he moves towards the door.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” With the slam of your door he’s gone. You grab some tissue to clean yourself with before putting on your workout leggings. Heading for your door, sly smirk on your face, you take one look around your office before turning out the light.

“You bet you will.”

Tagging:

@lunaserenade @asta-lily @anaaaispunk @day-off-inkyoto @librariantothejedi @elinedjarin @maievdenoir @dihra-vesa @javierpinme @pascal-rascal424 @loserrlauraa @thorins-queen-of-erebor @seasonschange-butpeopledont @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @ikinmahlen

(If you want to be added or removed let me know, or fill out my taglist form 😊)

#max phillips x reader #max phillips imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #max fucking phillips

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izzabeean · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2 : Denial

SUMMARY

You didn’t expect your first week of university to end with a break-up… Especially when your ex decides to visit you in your dreams. You need a distraction and are quite surprised with what awaits you.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 1,533

tags : alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

cw : mentions of alcohol, smoking

a/n : This is so silly and I’m not quite sure how realistic this is but it’s all a learning process.

masterlist

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The campus library becomes the calm safe haven you’ve been longing for after a busy morning. You spent most of your time after classes hovering between bookshelves, browsing the vast volumes, but today you were on the hunt for a very specific book.

Whispers among other students float above your head as you tune into the hushed environment narrowing your eyes at the row of literature.

When you near the end of the aisle, you look up to see the desired novel sitting on the top shelf.

You sigh and attempt to reach for it while standing on your tippy-toes, but it barely grazes your fingertips.

A scoff huffs under your breath.

It’s almost like it’s taunting you, the way it’s just out of reach and looming over you, casually sitting on the shelf without a care in the world. No, you weren’t about to ask for any help and most definitely too stubborn to grab a stool- you treasure your pride. Instead, you take a deep breath and jump trying to inch the spine off the shelf.

But you’re still not close enough.

“Let me get that for you,” a voice chimes from behind.

Your heart hammers in your chest from the sudden remark. Sometimes the smallest things can easily scare you, for instance, when a stranger sneaks up behind you in a quiet library. But you try to suppress the shiver as you turn your head to take a look at the culprit.

The tips of your ears start to burn up as you are faced with a stern man. His tall, solid body towers over immediately causing you to freeze and feel a lot smaller in his presence.

Perhaps it’s wrong to judge anyone at first glance, but he is scary as hell.

He reaches over your head and you catch a glimpse of his well-built physique as his shirt rides up. You blink registering what’s going on and before you can the book is in front of you. Then you take the novel smiling while trying to suppress the build-up of nerves coursing through you.

The exchange is awkward and silent, but as you stare at each other his eyes almost feast on you with their cold expression. The look sends your gut in a twist. You cannot deny that he looks intimidating, but observing him now, a sliver of you finds him attractive.

“A thanks would suffice,” he utters, his eyes fixated on you.

The sound of his voice is deep and serious but there’s just something about it that makes your heart flutter.

“Sorry,” you utter, biting the corner of your lip. “Thanks.”

You feel your face burn up under his gaze searching for something else to say. It takes every ounce of you to contain the embarrassment taking over your entire body, but before you can even stop yourself…

------

You wake.

The room is dark except a tinge of light seeps through the closed curtains. Your brain is trying to piece together the strangely realistic dream that was practically identical to your first moments of meeting Ushijima.

The night is still, nearly silent except for a subdued tone of sirens in the background. You shift a little in your bed, suddenly aware of how awake you are after tossing and turning trying to slip back to sleep. You know you need to get some rest, but your anxiety grows as morning nears.

Upon the realization that you probably won’t get any more sleep, you climb out of bed and throw on a jacket, hopeful the fresh air will clear your thoughts.

You lock up your apartment and stroll down to a 24/7 corner store a couple of blocks away. It’s late enough that the walkover makes you a bit paranoid of your surroundings-- it’s not often that you go on a late-night stroll, or go to a shop this late, especially by yourself.

The store's door chime greets you as you walk up to the front counter spotting an employee whose face is hiding behind a newspaper.

“Excuse me,” you sigh.

He looks up from his newspaper with a scowl plastered on his face.

“A pack of smokes, please,” you squeal, conscious of the fact you do not appear to look like an avid smoker, but the habit returns in times of stress and right now you are exceedingly stressed.

“ID, please,” he responds.

Your face pales at the request as you pull out your ID and he analyzes it. “What do you want?”

You blink, “Anything.”

The man clicks his tongue.

You ignore the judging stare from the cashier, retrieve the random pack of smokes with a “thanks” then stroll through the sliding doors to take a seat outside on the curb.

You light up a cigarette. Breathing in the burning toxins, the rich smoke burns your throat. Your lungs scream from the unknown substance and you quickly exhale the cloud with a cough.

Fuck, it hurts, you think. But you take another drag and this time it burns a bit less.

As you alleviate your heartbreak with the smoke, the emptiness sets in. You pause looking up at the dark sky cast above you. Your cheeks feel a bit numb from the cold, and your eyes begin to gloss over as you think back to Ushijima’s words from earlier.

The sudden sound of your phone startles you. Pulling it out of your pocket, an image of Oikawa illuminates the screen and an irritated groan escapes your lips as you take another hit.

You didn’t expect a call this late at night from Oikawa, but he never seems to know his boundaries according to the fact that it’s 2 o’clock in the morning. It’s a mix of loneliness and desperation that causes you to answer.

“Hello,” your voice is thick, placing the cold phone to your ear.

“Y/N-chan,” there’s a hint of slur in his voice, as he hiccups heavily into the receiver.

You roll your eyes. “Tōru, how drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk! I--” he stumbles on his words. “I just want to see how dinner....” He trails off, unable to finish his sentence.

The question really took a knife to the heart as you try to hold back the emotions that are bursting at the seams. It wasn’t Oikawa’s fault, you hadn’t told him yet.

“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow,” you sigh.

“Y/N,” Oikawa breathes. There’s a bit of neediness in his voice. “I hope he makes you happy...”

The sentiment is there and you can tell he means well but you squeeze your eyes shut at the comment. Your heart hinges and you try to breathe slowly avoiding any staggering gasps that can be heard.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m still here,” your throat tightens as you choke on your words.

Before you have the chance to say anything more, you hear the phone being pulled away from Oikawa, and an unfamiliar voice answers on the other end.

“Sorry about that. Oikawa’s a bit drunk. Didn’t mean to disturb you. Have a goodnight.”

The line cuts.

Once again you’re met with the dead of night.

It was difficult to process tonight's earlier events, even as you sit outside having a smoke. You never thought you would ever get to this moment, especially when it’s been so long since you last really cared for someone like Ushijima. You’d only known him for a year, but right now it feels like he’s the only thing you’ve ever known your whole life.

------

Morning arrives too soon.

The horrible taste of nicotine coats your mouth and the smell of smoke engulfs your hair making you gag. It’s 8 AM on a Saturday and you’re sure you only got a couple of solid hours of sleep upon returning from your late-night adventure. You’re a little less hysterical and a bit more numb compared to six hours ago.

You didn’t expect to wake up until later in that afternoon, but your head is pounding making it so much harder to sleep off the break-up. You get up to take a painkiller hoping it helps subside the chronic unpleasant sensation.

It crosses your mind that you need to get out and be somewhere else, not within the confines of your apartment or your mind. So after a substantial amount of self-care and priming, you head out to Oikawa’s apartment.

It’s not uncommon for you to drop by unannounced, in fact, this was a lot better than stirring in your thoughts alone at home. Somehow it feels more comforting to spend time with Oikawa than you’ve ever imagined-- despite the fact you didn’t have many friends. But he always gave you the attention you desired at any given moment and the thought of that eases you as you knock at the front door.

It takes a moment for Oikawa to answer, undoubtedly after a night out drinking.

But as the door opens, you are met with a tall muscular tanned man. He cocks his head looking at you quizzically, and subsequently opens the door a bit more, enough that you can peer past him into the apartment.

You don’t know who he is, but he’s hot.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n #ushijima wakatoshi #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa tooru

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peach-the-owl · 3 years

Text

Of a Kind Sol

Pumat Sol & Child!Reader

Request: Our favourite enchanter Pumat Sol and his arcane copies because who doesn't love them? Only crazy people. So a kid, maybe into their teens, coming into the shop and asking to learn from him how to enchant stuff and become his apprentice and later on he finds out they have nobody.

Child is a bit of a loose term for this because the reader is about 12-13 years old. I regret nothing, anyways enjoy! 😁

The Invulnerable Vagrant a humble little shop located in the city of Zadash, you walk up to the shop, adjust your cloths to look a little more presentable and take a deep breath before making your way inside. The first thing you notice upon your entry is the two identical employees walking around stocking up items and rearranging them, the third one manning the counter also looked the exact same, it was almost intimidating.

"Well hey there, what can I do for a youngin' like yourself today?" The firbolg at the counter asks kindly.

"Umm, h-hello, my name's (y/n)." You say a little shakily holding out your hand, the firbolg returns the handshake.

"A pleasure to meet you (y/n), I am Enchanter Pumat Sol." He greets you back.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you too. Uhh… well… I had a question I’d like to ask." You put on as confident a smile as you could muster.

"And I’d be happy to answer any questions you have, respectfully. What’s your question." He gives you a patient look. You take another deep breath to psych yourself up.

"I was wondering if you were looking for anyone to help with the shop? I’m really interested in learning about enchantment." You give him a hopeful look, he leans back placing a hand on his chin in thought before looking at you again.

"So you’re interested in enchantment eh? Well that’s a question I’ll have to talk to Pumat prime about."

"Pumat prime?" You give a questioning look.

"Yes, you see myself and the other two over there," he points to the other firbolgs running around. "We're what you’d call magical manifestations created to aid the original in his work." He explains to you.

"So you're not the real Pumat Sol, just a copy to help around the shop?" You try to hide the nervousness in your voice at the revelation.

"More or less. Now you wait here just a moment, I’ll be right back." With that he gets up and disappears behind a curtain leaving you to stand there, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. After a minute he returns with who you’d assume to be the original Pumat Sol, who removes his goggles to get a better look at you.

"So you’re interested in enchantment I hear?" He asks same question as the other had.

"I am, I’ve always been interested in the ways of enchantment but I’ve never really been able to learn it for myself." You brighten up.

"Well…" he thinks for a moment, "that is, respectfully, a fine offer. I already have a lot of hands helping with the shop though." You start to deflate a little. "However, it would be nice having someone else helping me with enchantments." You perk up again.

"So I have the job?" You ask eagerly.

"As long as it’s alright with your parents-"

"Yes! Yes, of course it is." You quickly lie, cutting him off. He stares at you but smiles regardless.

"Well alrighty then, we can get started right now if you'd like, respectfully." You just nod. "Keep up the good work me." He tells the copies before he takes you back behind the curtain to his little workshop area to start your training.

For the next few weeks you’d come to the shop bright and early to learn and hone in on your enchantment skills, which you pick up on rather quickly, helping with projects and making a few small items of your own, at the end of the day you’d get your share of money and head "home" to start the day anew tomorrow. You even got your own work apron and pair of goggles. To make things easier on yourself working with four of the same guy you gave the arcane copies nicknames, Matty, Sol, and Puma respectfully, they all seemed to like the little nicknames from you so that was how you’d refer to them from then on. How could you tell who was who? Simple, you made little enchanted name tags with the help of Pumat. One day a set of new adventurers hobbled into the shop, you only being made aware of this when Matty came into the workshop with a request for something to be made prettier.

"Do you wanna handle this one (y/n)?" Pumat asks.

"Me? Really!" Your eyes sparkle with excitement.

"Why not, you’ve made great progress and it’s good practice." You get up and follow Matty through the curtain where you see the previously mentioned adventurers. They all take quick notice of you.

"Hold on a moment. Didn’t you say the forth one's in the back?" The half-orc questions.

"I'm actually his apprentice." You say with a large, proud smile. You see the red-head give an amused side look but decide to ignore it. "Anyways, I was called to make something pretty?"

"Yes!" The blue tiefling pipes in, showing the Fantastic Haversack. "See I’m going to be wearing it and I want it to match my outfit…" While she’s say all this you try to think of what to do, coming to a rather quick and obvious solution.

"What’s your favourite colour?" You ask.

"Pink!" She replies, without missing a beat. You wave your hands around, muttering a few arcane words and watch the bag simmer turning a bright pink. "Ahhh! It’s beautiful! 200 gold, here you go." The tiefling happily exclaims, handing you a bag of gold.

"You’re welcome miss…" You pause realizing you didn’t know her name, she catches on.

"I’m Jester." She greets properly.

"I’m (y/n). Nice meeting you Jester." You greet back. "Keep up the good work Pumats." You then turn to retreat back behind the curtain with a few "thank you's" and make your way back into the workshop.

"Hey uh (y/n), one more thing, you got a request for more of those little explosive spikes you made from a little goblin girl." Puma pokes his head into the workshop to inform you.

"Wait, someone actually wants more of those? But they aren’t very strong." You were surprised anyone was interested in something you made seeing as all the bigger and cooler enchantments were Pumat's doing.

"They said something about them being perfect for arrows." Puma explains.

"Oh! Umm, ok. How many are they asking for?"

"Fifty."

"Fifty! Wow, I got a lot of work to do then, it’s gonna take me a while. Thanks Puma." You give him a smile that he returns then leaves to help finish up with the costumers.

Some time went by, you continued your usual routine showing up early, working throughout the day and carefully returning "home" with a nice bag of coin for meals, all was well… until it wasn’t. One evening you were a little too confident in yourself and got a little careless, not checking for any thugs or muggers while turning down an alleyway like you usually do. You were just walking along merrily when you bumped into someone.

"Well, well. That sure sounds like a awful lot of coin for a street rat." A rather stocky dwarven man chuckles darkly. You take a few steps back towards where you’d entered but stop when you hear someone approach from behind, a tall lanky man blocked your exit pulling out a dagger. You started to panic, as much as you’d like to cast something to aid yourself, you left your spellbook and components for said spells back at the shop leaving you defenceless. You tried to dart past the dwarf hoping to loose the two further into the alleyway, what you didn’t count on was the dwarf to be nimbler then he appeared. You’re grabbed by the collar of your shirt and slammed against a wall, effectively knocking the air out of you and before you can push yourself up off the ground you feel a harsh kick to your side and a sharp pain in your arm. You try to scream for help but again before you can react your head is slammed hard against the ground leaving your vision blurry before completely blacking out…

You awaken with a feeling of slitting pain in your head and your entire body aching, slowly pushing yourself off the ground into a sitting position proving to even be a difficult task. Once you get a better look at yourself you can see a few cuts on your arms from the dagger the lanky man had used and you were covered in bruises, you reach a hand up to where your head was throbbing the most only to flinch away from the intense pain. You stare at your hand seeing it covered in your own blood, taking proper note that you were in fact surrounded by a small puddle of your own blood. You were surprised you even managed to regain consciousness, regardless your vision was still blurry and you needed medical attention, soon. You didn’t have any coin or items on you anymore leaving only one location for you to get help, a part of you dreading the idea but deep down you knew it was only a matter of time before you’d have to deal with the consequences of telling the truth. Shakily you get yourself to stand and hobble your way out of the alleyway towards your destination, looking to the sky you could estimate that it must’ve been close to late morning, early afternoon by now. You approach the door and with what little strength you had left you open the door and stumble into the shop.

"Welcome to the Invulnerable- Oh my goodness! (Y/n), what happened!?" You teeter and before you fall to the ground you feel a set of gentle hands catch you, then a second set of hands help to bring you to the back. After a few minutes your able to regain your focus back, seeing Matty and Sol on either side of you both with identically concerned looks on their faces.

"Here you are, this'll help fix you up." Sol hands you a greater healing potion which you waste no time in using to help ease away the lingering pain and get rid of bruises that weren’t covered by bandages. At this time Pumat walks in and gives a small nod to the other two.

"I’ll take it from here fellas." He tells them. They get up, Matty giving you one more gentle pat on the shoulder, and head back to the front leaving you alone with Pumat. "Care to tell me what happened?" He starts slowly and calmly.

"I umm, got mugged by some dwarf and lanky man in an alleyway." You say quietly.

"Now why were you in an alleyway so late, you should’ve been home with your parents." You let out a sad sigh and turn away from him a little. "(Y/n)?" You stay quiet but give a quick side glance. "I think I deserve an explanation here." He uses a more stern voice this time making you look over at him, despite the tone you could see genuine worry written on his face.

"I-I lied about my parents agreeing to this, because the truth is I don’t have any. I was left here all alone a few years ago, nobody came for me and I was forced to live on the streets. I meant to say something sooner, but I was scared…" You trail off a bit, feeling tears prick at the edges of your eyes.

"What could you be scared of, if you don’t mind me asking."

"I was scared you wouldn’t accept a dirty street rat. For so long I wanted to belong somewhere, but I was always turned away. I thought if I lied about myself you would accept me as an apprentice, but I wasn’t lying about learning enchantment I really do like it. I just didn’t want to be turned away again." By now you were sobbing, a stream of tears flowing down your face, your eyes turning red and puffy in the process. "I don’t want to be turned away again, please don’t be mad." You finish quietly through your sobs. There’s a pause before you feel yourself being pulled into a gentle, comforting hug. You stay in the hug for who knows and who cares how long until you finally pull away.

"Believe it or not, but I get it. I didn’t really fit in when I was about your age either." Pumat confesses, you look at him confused and he just gives you a kind smile. "I mean, do you see any other firbolgs that live here. I think not." You give a small giggle at that. "Now why don’t you take the rest of the day off, head on upstairs and get yourself some rest, you can use my room for now. I can handle myself just fine."

"Really? You’re sure it’s ok?" You give a curious look.

"It’s fine, I’ll get one of the others to help clear out our spare room for you to stay in later." You blink a couple of times to process what was just said.

"Wait, stay in? Like, live here?" You ask, wanting to know if you’d heard correctly or if you were hallucinating.

"Well of course! I can’t have my favourite apprentice sleeping in the streets, I’d worry too much knowing you might get mugged again or worse. It's real bad for the health." He states sorta matter-of-factly. You break out into a large smile at this.

"That is, respectfully, a very generous offer." You say with a playful bow. "Thank you. For everything." You continue more seriously this time.

"It is my humble pleasure." He gives you a nod. "Now go on, you need to rest and recover." You give him one more hug which he happily returns before heading up for that much needed rest.

I stayed up way later then I thought to finish this…… worth it

#critical role #critical role & reader #mighty nein #the mighty nein #pumat sol #pumat sol & reader #npc appreciation month #nothing romantic here

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untaemedqueen · 4 years

Text

The Bird Cage

Mafia!Jimin x Reader

Chapter 11.

Warnings: Eventual Smut, Blood, Guns, Knives, Smoking (Cigarettes)

Tag-List: @imaforeigner, @q1st1na, @gensneverland, @autumnnflowers, @toddsgirl27, @yaniposts22, @babyboytae1, @dearlydreadful, @vivpurple7, @kthfeed

You stare at the clock, your engagement hand dangling over the top of Jimin's chair. "Four." You hear for the seventh time. You roll your eyes drawing attention from Ong Mingyu.

"Do you have something to say?" Jimin looks over at you, you sigh before sipping your champagne.

"Four, six. Four, six. Four, six." You murmur to him making Jeongguk tense up.

"Excuse me?" His voice was sharp but Jimin kept relaxed. You've been in these meetings before, you can carry yourself well enough.

"Now, I know that you know these guns are worth six." You lean down to the desk. Your gold dress neck swoops lower, Ong Mingyu sitting up straighter to try and see your cleavage. He wouldn't get to see much, you started wearing bustiers over the last few days.

"Do you wanna know how I know?" You whisper as Jimin rubs at your lower back proudly starting to smirk. You raise an eyebrow staring at Mingyu's handsome face. He was a flower boy, pretty big eyes with nice plump lips and high cheekbones.

"You should answer her before she gets angry." Jimin says bringing his glass to his lips. Mingyu snarls at your brazen attitude.

"Do you want to know?" You ask standing back up. Jimin keeps his hand on your lower back as you lean against the arm of his chair. Almost protectively of him as you angle your body towards him.

"Sure, please. Tell me how you think this fucking deal is worth two million more than what I'm saying." You hum to him before sitting on Jimin's lap. Jimin stiffens up underneath you, the feeling of your body on him sending him into what he could only describe as heaven. The sexual tension between the two of you has been of the Richter scale lately. You've been kissing, you've been lazily stroking arms and legs but everything else is a dead stop. Jimin clenches his legs together as you make yourself comfortable on him, shifting your ass on his groin until you are pleased with the flustered breaths from behind you.

"I know that the deal is worth two more million, and so do you. You know because your palms are sweating. When you lie you stutter twice, you shift your eyes to everything else other than the person you are dealing with. That black duffel bag you brought,-" You nod to his guard at the back of the room holding the bag, "-has six million in it. The way the sides jut out is more than four."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?!" Mingyu stands up, Jeongguk at the corner stiffening himself grabbing at his waistband.

"I am the person, you're going to give that six million to. All those guns you want, prime and polished without numbers. Bullets without trace. You want those guns, you give us the six." Mingyu scoffs before leaning on the desk as Jimin leans forward, his body relaxing as you talk smoothly.

His chest pressing into your back as he plays with your hair. "Why don't you let men do business instead of interfering, woman." You smile before sipping your champagne.

"There is no business is this house that I will not dip my toes into. Six." Mingyu scoffs, fixing his tie before slamming back down into the seat.

"What's mine, is hers." Jimin simply gives you the go ahead to wear down the pretty boy.

"You're gonna give us the six or else you don't get the guns. I've been talking to Jung Mina, hmm? You know Jung Mina? Women talk a lot." You sit back against Jimin, his hand landing on your upper thigh. Mingyu clears his throat as you mention her name, rubbing his hands over his face.

"And, Jung Mina tells me that you need those guns in order to take back the clubs you've lost in Gangnam to the Kim's." Mingyu look you dead in the eye,

"You shut the fuck up about things you don't know about." You hum in agreement.

"So six and you'll get the wares to take back your clubs." Mingyu forms fists closing his eyes. You sip your champagne as he sneers at you.

"Give her the fucking duffel bag." He stands up before slamming the desk.

"You aren't a Park yet, you little bitch." Jimin stiffens before tutting his tongue. He pats your thigh and you stand up.

"She was being gracious. You are disrespecting my woman." Jimin fixes his white suit jacket before sighing and standing up.

"Disrespect my woman again and you'll be coughing up blood for weeks." Mingyu's guard drops the duffel bag on the floor before stepping behind his boss. Jeongguk steps up cracking his neck.

"No trouble, Park. Your woman just has a mouth on her." Mingyu looks over at you and you wink at him sitting in Jimin's chair.

"And what a pretty mouth she has. Get out."

"I want those guns by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is the ball, you'll get them Monday." Jimin tells him, Mingyu fixes his suit jacket before rolling his shoulders.

"Monday." He leaves but not before bearing his teeth at you in anger. You stand up and walk over to the duffel bag, opening it unceremoniously before rifling through the bands of cash.

"Six." You murmur with a good hearted chuckle. Jimin sighs happily sitting on his desk.

"My Kitten." He praises you.

"How'd you know about Jung Mina?" Jeongguk asks sitting down in the chair.

"Namjoon." Jimin hums impressed.

"This is your thing." You look over at him and he smiles widely.

"This? What's this?" You stand tall before leaning against the wooden wall.

"Being smart, talking well, making people fear you. That's your thing." You purse your lips pondering. Maybe that is what you're good at. You're good at making people uncomfortable, making people squirm. And, you love that. "Maybe it is."

Jimin stares at the ceiling in boredom as the meeting carries on. You weren't in this meeting, you had training with Namjoon to sharpen your memory before tomorrow.

"-And for the three girls he kill-" Jimin clears his throat.

"Hold on. Hold on." Yoongi says to Jeongguk noticing how Jimin's mind is wandering.

"Chim, you okay?" Taehyung asks from across the table as Seokjin dances a knife between his fingers.

"I don't fucking care about Lee Minshin. Fucking kill him if you want to." Jimin mutters before pouring himself another glass of whisky.

"What's the problem, Jimin?" Jin asks folding his arms.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Let's just get this meeting over with."

"So you can go back to Y/N." Taehyung counters with a smile. Jimin rolls his eyes before shooting back the glass of whisky in one shot.

"Just continue on before I break something." Jimin was fidgety, he felt empty without you by his side. Like he was exposed. It had been a week, and what a gorgeous week it has been. Nothing but you has been on his mind, he forgets that he's a monster. He's has a job that isn't respectable. He's a racketeer for God's sake, and yet, he feels like a saint when he's with you.

"You're a different person, like you've had a lobotomy." Jeongguk tells Jimin pointing his finger at him. Jimin nods his head pursing his lips.

"I am."

"When she finds out about your story do you really think she'll stay?" Taehyung asks, intertwining his fingers. Jimin shakes his head.

"Nope. Which is why I find this meeting trivial when I could be spending my last day with her." Seokjin nods before putting his hands up.

"Meeting adjourned." Jimin stands up brushing off his suit pants.

"Might as well be happy now so I can go back to being miserable. Oh, and Guk." Jimin stops in his tracks as Jeongguk gives him his full attention. "Just kill that fucker Lee Minshin."

You stare at the manila folder in your hands. Namjoon pulls from his cigarette before pointing at the folder. "You keep that folder pressed to you at all times. Revenge does not come lightly. You fuel your body with the rage of a hundred men. We'll get him to tell us who killed your parents." You run your fingers over the Hangul spelling out Kim Shin's name. You sigh before leaning back in the plastic chair, your eyes drifting lazily over to some pitch forks that used to be used for hay in the warehouse.

"Tell me something." Namjoon raises an eyebrow leaning back comfortably as smoke rolls lazily upwards towards the heavens.

"What?"

"What's Jimin's story?" Namjoon sighs before shaking his head.

"No, sorry. Can't tell you." His lips pressing into a straight line as his dimples indent his cheeks.

"And, why not?"

"Because his story is not one to tell, he almost killed Hoseok the other day. I'm not saying a thing that the Boss doesn't want me to say. I'm sorry." You nod understanding, tire squealing resounds throughout the field outside of the warehouse.

"But, I will tell you one thing. Hmm?" Namjoon pauses as the noise of the tires get louder as the car approaches. Namjoon leans in and you nod to him once letting him proceed.

"Whatever Jimin tells you, no matter what his story is. He loves you. You're the first person he has held dear since I've known him and that has been a long fucking time. So, my selfish suggestion is, if you hear something you don't like in that story you fucking ignore it. You block it out of your memory because Jimin is no longer that person when he's with you." The car stops and you smile at Namjoon as you hear the car door shut.

"Noted." Namjoon throws his cigarette on the ground as the warehouse door flies open. Jimin enters arms spread with a large smile.

"Kitten." You smile at him as you stand.

"Meeting is over early." Jimin hums before keeping his arms open wanting a hug.

"I missed my girl. Get over here." You snort before walking over and hugging him. He hugs you tightly, your face pressing into his grey suit jacket.

"Let's get out of here. Smells like shit." Jimin kisses the top of your head before looking at Namjoon.

"Joon, meet with Yoongi for tomorrow. I want every new kid at that ball. I want them all armed." Namjoon look over confused.

"No weapons at the ball." Jimin clicks his teeth, before burying his face in your hair.

"I said armed, Namjoon. Do I have to say it again?" Namjoon puts up his hands.

"Yes, Boss. Armed and ready to play." Jimin tickles you before pulling you towards the door. "Let's go shopping, baby. My Kitten deserves whatever she wants."

Jimin lays in bed with you, his hand dancing over your night gown as he stares at the canopy above his bed. His right hand tucked underneath his pillow. You've been sleeping in the same bed ever since the night you had the run in with Taehyung's little sisters murder. The silence in the room was comfortable, the rain pattering against the window panes loudly as Jimin sighs.

"Sleeping?" Jimin asks quietly, his melodic voice breaking the silence gently. You turn your body over to him before shaking your head. You throw your leg over his body and he smirks before turning his head and looking at you.

"It's late you should be sleeping."

"You too." Jimin chuckles, "Touché." Jimin rubs at the bare skin of your thigh, closing his eyes.

"Why can't you sleep?" He knew the answer to his question but he would like to hear the answer anyway.

"Thinking about tomorrow." Jimin nods at this.

"If you don't sleep, Hyejin is going to be mad at me if she has to conceal dark bags under your eyes." You laugh gently before putting your head on his chest.

"Will we really get Kim Shin tomorrow?" The nervousness in your voice doesn't go unnoticed as Jimin opens his eyes.

"Of course we will, Kitten." He kisses your forehead before sighing.

"Will you tell me your story now?" Jimin runs his fingers through his hair, you can hear his heart pick up pace through his skin. A cold sweat began to develop on him.

"No Kitten. I will not." You sit up pushing the sheets off of your body.

"You want to give me the world, tell me your story or I won't go to the ball." Jimin laughs bitterly before standing up. You watch as he paces the room before pouring himself a glass of whisky. You could see his nervousness as he rubs at his face.

"You won't go to the ball anyway if I fucking tell you." Jimin pours another glass before handing it to you.

"Just tell me." Jimin sits down in the chair in front of the chess board. His sweaty hands rubbing at his pajama pants.

"Comfortable? It's going to be a long night." He picks up the King piece before tipping it over.

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danipixel · 3 years

Text

Wherever the Force May Go pt2

Tags: @maulieber @botherbother-blog @mother-0f-monsters @zabrak-show @alicedoestheinternet @laoness

Summary: Daia found a new opportunity on Mandalore. Did she make a mistake in coming? She hasn’t decided yet. Her new employer may decide for her.

Part 1

It was late afternoon when Daia finished unloading the last of her things from the Fever Dream into the room she had been granted by the new lord of Mandalore. The guest room was enormous with large windows that gave a beautiful view of the city below. The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon beyond the bio-dome’s edges. She’d have to thank her new employer for the accommodations.

Still in a bit of shock from the events of the morning, she continued her small tour of her quarters. The bed was by no means small and covered with lush blankets and pillows. The sitting area sported a large table with intricately carved lilies on the legs and edges as well as equally lavish cream chairs. The walls were covered in beautiful paintings depicting the history of Mandalore. Satine's taste in decor was still all over the room. Taking a seat in the unfairly comfortable chair, Daia now had time to think about everything that just happened this morning. Her overconfidence and her mouth may have just gotten her into more trouble than she first realized. The new Mand’alor was clearly well versed in use of the Force, and the dark side at that. The dark side never frightened her before but she knew just how dangerous those that regularly surrender themselves to its power can be. Shit. This may have been a mistake. Daia didn’t get much time to think about her new position on the planet before she sensed Maul and the other Force wielder outside her door.

The door slid open and there stood Maul, an intense look of anger painted across his crimson face. He let out a low growl as he spoke, "I don’t appreciate being lied to." His eyes burned into hers as his presence filled the room. His partner stood just behind him sporting a similar look.

"I'm sorry but, what are you talking about?" Daia felt anger rolling off of the two in waves leaving sparks and crackles as it flowed around her. She couldn't help the sudden urge to run or maybe fight. Anything but just stand there.

The two men stepped fully into the room, which despite its size, now felt much too small. "What are you doing here, Jedi?" The sound of lightsabers igniting echoed through the room.

"Is this because I can use the Force? I’m not a Jedi." Not anymore. Continuing to back away, Daia's hands stayed low and near the edge of her jacket where her sabers were tucked away.

"Liar! The stink of the Order is all over you.” Maul spit the accusation at her as he leapt towards her, black blade aimed at her neck. In a flash she brought up her twin sabers to block the blow as she barely dodged out of the way. A flurry of blows and flashes of black light filled her vision. Each strike caught by her sabers with a loud hiss as she backpedaled further into the room. He was fast. Terrifyingly fast. Had the Force not guided her movements, she'd be dead. Adrenaline surged through her body feeding her fight or flight response. A dark tendril from the Force followed the reflex and reached out to her mind. Daia grabbed hold of it and roughly pulled it into herself, fuelling her body, sharpening her senses, and adding speed to her reflexes. Off to the side, she felt more than saw the red blade come down on her and quickly ducked out of the way and past the two men.

Holding her blades in a defensive position, she shouted at the two, "I didn’t lie to you!" The two men split and came at her from the sides simultaneously, striking hard at Daia. She almost buckled under the force of their combined attack. Her arms screamed in protest as she caught the attacks. Her violet blade clashed with black as her silver caught red before she twisted back out of the way. The black blade again came at her to hold her in place. She twisted again but this time flowed under Maul’s arm and brought her elbow into his ribs hard to allow her an opening to back away. He let out a hiss and kicked at her legs as she danced away.

Anger filled the room as Maul pointed with his blade and the larger man circled around her. Daia's blades remained up and directed at each warrior, ready to catch any attack that came for her. "I'll ask you one more time Jedi, why did they send you here?"

This time the attack came from behind but she was ready and used the Force to fling the heavy ornate table directly into the larger Zabrak, knocking him into the wall. "No one sent me. I’m not a fucking Jedi! I haven’t been one for 7 years!" Maul stayed where he was, black saber still pointed in her direction as a snarl painted his face.

The larger one rose from the wall and rushed her, blade swinging in a wide arc. She managed to deflect the blow but the force of the strike immediately caused her arms to burn once again. My arms are gonna break if he keeps this up. He finally growled in her face, "Dooku’s orders then."

"Count Dooku?" She spat back as she jumped backwards. "No. Fuck him! I want nothing to do with him!" The Force then seized her and threw her back into the opposite wall, knocking the air from her lungs. Not knowing which man had done that she immediately prepared for their next attack.

Maul held up his hand to stop the other from attacking. Was he planning on killing her himself? "If you’re not with the Jedi, or Dooku, then why come to Mandalore?" He lowered his blade but did not deactivate it. The other man did the same. The rage from the two slowly started to recede but the anger in the room still simmered from all three occupants.

Daia followed suit and lowered her sabers, leaving them humming at her sides. "It’s like I said. I used to smuggle for Death Watch and the Prime Minister. I came back because I saw a business opportunity."

"And you no longer receive orders from the Jedi?" Maul stared at her as if he was trying to read her thoughts. Her mental defenses instinctively strengthened to prevent any intrusion. He wasn't getting into her mind without a fight.

She let out a sigh, "I still have some friends in the Order but that's as far as the connection goes. I have no plans to go back."

The taller man moved closer to Maul and continued to growl at Daia. "More Jedi lies."

"Look, if you just wanted to kill me, why not do it this morning?" She snapped at both of them, anger rising back to the surface. This game of theirs was getting tiring. Either kill me or let me leave.

Maul finally deactivated his saber and stood with his hands clasped behind his back. His partner did the same. "I was curious and truthfully, a Jedi offering to smuggle for me was unexpected."

"Not a Jedi." She took the hint that the fight was over and put her sabers away, this time she left them on her belt instead of tucked in her jacket. The instinct to fight was slowly receding from her body. Now it was replaced with confusion and irritation. Was this whole thing a fucking test?!

"So you keep saying." Maul took a few steps closer but made no move to retrieve his weapon and finish the ex-Jedi.

Taking a few steps toward the man and crossing her arms, Daia asked, "So what do you want from me?"

Maul paced back and forth, prowling in front of her as he answered. "I'm always in need of people with talent. Besides your claim of being an accomplished smuggler, you managed to sneak your way past the entirety of Death Watch and into my throne room. You've just proven you can hold your own in combat, and you have connections to Coruscant that could prove useful one day."

"So, you still want me to work with you." This day just keeps getting more and more interesting.

From behind Maul, his counterpart still seemed to have opinions. "Are you sure about her, Brother? She could still be a Jedi spy or assassin." He continued to growl in her direction as he stared.

Are you kidding me? Did he really still think she was here to kill them? She was done being friendly today. "Are you here for a reason big guy, or are you just here to insult me and look intimidating?" Wait. Did he say Brother?

Maul held up his hand and answered before his brother could say another word. "Savage is my apprentice as well as my brother. Where I go, he goes."

"Well for your information, Savage, Jedi don't use spies and assassins. You have them confused with senators." Daia stepped closer to the much larger man and glared up at him. Her patience was wearing atom thin.

Maul placed himself between the two and stared down his brother. "If you two are quite finished." Savage backed down and stepped aside. Maul's attention focused back to Daia. "You will remain in the city until I can be sure of your loyalties."

Stay in the city? How is she supposed to do her job? "When do I start my work then?"

Maul stepped closer and into her personal space. She held firm and held his gaze as he spoke. "Tomorrow. You will join us for our morning briefings. If you plan on being our private smuggler, I expect you to learn how things are done here now. You’ll be retrieved in the morning." There it was. She was a pet for now. Better a pet than dead. She and Maul studied one another for a moment before he pulled away from her proximity. The lord of Mandalore turned to make his way to the door, Savage falling in behind him.

Before they could leave she couldn't help but say, "Whatever you say, handsome." For whatever reason, maybe adrenaline, she was feeling brave this evening. Brave or stupid. If he wanted to test her, it was only fair that she do the same.

Maul let out a growl and was back in her space in an instant, flaming golden eyes burning into hers. "I'll let you know now that attempts at flattery will not gain you any favor." There was no anger, no threat behind his words.

Still feeling brave she leaned forward into his space now and couldn't help but smile. "Stating facts is not flattery."

"Hmm, is that so?" Maul narrowed his eyes at Daia as he studied her face once more before turning again and leaving her alone in her now destroyed room.

There was carnage left all throughout the guest quarters. The table was salvageable but one of the chairs was shattered and there were scorch marks in the floor and on the walls. One of the paintings was completely cut in two. At least the bed was still in one piece. Once again left alone to her thoughts and the Force, she sat on the bed and let out long slow breaths trying to center herself. Slowly but surely the anger and fear from the last few minutes receded and with it, the touch of darkness she had grasped. Her whole body shivered as she let go of what she had tapped into. It was a powerful partner in a fight but left a terrible taste in her mouth and made her skin feel too tight if held onto for too long. How the other two could bear it, she had no idea.

She went about cleaning up the room so that she could maybe get some sleep. Did I really say that? I did. I called him handsome after he tried to decapitate me. Exhaustion had finally set in and Daia needed to rest and hopefully clear her mind. As she pulled off her boots and went about her night time rituals she made a mental note to run through many more training programs with P4R-E. If something like that fight happens again, she had to be better prepared. Her whole body ached from the force of the earlier attack. Maul was skilled. More skilled than most Jedi she'd known. And Savage's size gave him a terrifying amount of power behind his blows. She was convinced that he could have shattered her arms with ease had Maul not stopped him. They really were testing me.

She settled into bed, expecting an early morning the next day. Before sleep took her she whispered out to the Force, “Please no visions tonight.” She settled into a mostly dreamless sleep. The only dreams that came to her consisted of the same flaming eyes and crown she had seen in the Force before. This time a face filled in the space between the features. The same red and black face of the man that just made her life much more complicated.

#fanfic #darth maul #star wars tcw #oc #Daia Veeral #It's totally normal for your boss to try to kill you #right?

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 4 years

Text

Return to Me - Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven: Revenge and Reformation

A/N: Don’t keep scrolling! This is the next chapter of Return to Me, even if there is no gif of Poe on this one. Poe’s not in this chapter, only mentioned, so I thought I’d use a gif of my faceclaim for Lin Ral for this chapter, just to remind you what he looks like and because he’s in this chapter a lot. I promise, there is a lot of Poe to come in the next chapter and he’s mentioned quite a bit this time, so don’t get too sad or mad with me! Anyways, this chapter sets up a lot to come, so let me know if anything is confusing or you have any questions. As always, lemme know what you think and if you wanna be tagged! I love you all!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 4,278 Synopsis: The shelter of Serenno provides the reader and the Resistance with a chance to recoup, albeit with a few surprises. A plan still needs to be made to defeat the First Order, and the reader finds help in this planning from an unlikely source.

Tag List: @xeniarocks, @too-many-baes, @araceli91103, @idocarealot, @treblebeth, @treestarrrrrrrr, @thescarletknight2014, @charlottie2998, @ibikus, @mellow-f1, @mrsdaamneron, @trustme3-13, @missjess71, @ella-solei, @minelskede, @gleigh42, @usuallyweepingnacho, @givemethatgold, @and-claudia, @constantdisgrace, @wordsinwinters, @readingvogueonprivetdrive, @trshbb, @kaitlynw011, @ihave2muchtimeonmyhands, @fairytalesforever, @thanos-jeep, @mixedfandxms, @pastelbunny1501, @emotionalcal, @daniellajocelyn, @getyourselfaunicorn, @spider-starry, @jimhalpertcanbuymelove, @angelicaxhouston

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“Oh, Y/N!” Your mother raced forward and wrapped you in a tight hug. You hugged her back, reveling in the scent that was absolutely your mother: the flowers that grew in the fields around your house, and crisp watercress. You pushed her back a second later and studied her face, trying to determine whether she was real or just some strange illusion.

“Wait, I— Hosnian Prime. You were supposed to be there. I thought you two were . . .” you stumbled over your words. Your mother, Osira, frowned and took your hand in hers, giving it a loving squeeze.

“We were, but we took a trip to Serenno a day before the attack,” she explained.

“You’ve been here this whole time?”

“Yes. We’re alright,” she said, wrapping you in another hug. Your father stepped up and hugged you as well, smiling down at you.

“We tried to contact you on Naboo, but none of our transmissions went through,” Henri said. He and your mother looked at the group you had brought with you, their eyes finally landing on Leia. She smiled and took a step forward to embrace her old friends.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Osira asked with a confused smile and panicked eyes.

“Why aren’t you on Naboo?” your father asked. You looked to Leia for help, but she only nodded her encouragement. There would be no lying to them now, you were going to have to tell them the truth.

“I will explain everything, it’s just going to take a minute, and my friends need their rest,” you said.

“Of course,” Lin said, stepping up. “We have rooms prepared, clothing, food, everything they might need.” Commander D’Acy led the group to the prepared rooms, leaving you alone with your parents and Lin. Thankfully, Leia stuck around to give you some support as well.

“Shall we,” your father said, motioning to the door at the opposite end of the room. You led the way and entered into a conference room. You took a seat at the head of the table with your mother and Leia on either side of you.

“Why can’t we make contact with Naboo?” your father asked first, unable to wait another minute. You shook your head sadly.

“I’m afraid to admit it, but the First Order has invaded Naboo.”

“What?” your father asked in shock, a hand over his heart.

“I was reaching out to Lord Broden when a Stormtrooper cut us off.”

“What are you even doing here? Why weren’t you on Naboo with your people?” Henri asked, his temper beginning to grow as he began a full-blown rant, until he remembered who was around him. He pursed his lips and looked at you angrily, waiting for your explanation.

“I left Naboo to help out the Resistance. It has been clear to me for some time that the First Order is not going to stop anytime soon. I know the senate’s decision was to take no action unless there was outright fighting, but there is no senate anymore. For years, Leia has seen what the First Order is planning, and the galaxy has chosen to ignore it. I may have left my people when they needed me, and believe me, I hate that, but the galaxy needs us. They need the Resistance.”

“Have you reached out to Naboo anymore?” Henri asked. “Surely there is still some hope left there, or we would have heard of its fate just like in the Hosnian System.”

“We’ve reached out a few times, but our messages haven’t gone through, either,” you said.

“How did you all get here? I thought the Resistance had a secret base somewhere,” Lin inquired. You looked over at Leia who nodded.

“A few days ago, I sent my best pilot, Poe Dameron, on a mission to retrieve information that I believed could save the Resistance,” Leia explained. You glanced over at your parents to gauge their reaction to hearing Poe’s name again. Your mother was staring off, her face pale as her eyes bore into the smooth wooden table you sat at. When your eyes trailed over her and found your father, his eyes were cold and hard as he looked directly at you, and the dark leather jacket of Poe’s you still wore over your shoulders. “Poe was captured by the First Order and tortured for what information he knew. Our base was no longer safe at that point and we had no choice but to abandon it. Unfortunately, the First Order was one very short step behind us.”

“I’ve heard of this pilot,” Lin said with a smile. “He’s quite good.”

“He is,” Leia agreed with a gentle smile, also glancing up at your parents. “They must have tortured him for hours because there’s no way he’d give up the Resistance’s location so easily.” You shifted in your seat. Thinking about Poe’s torture made you physically sick, and imagining it going on for hours — you couldn’t bear to think of it.

“So, what do we do now? The galaxy is afraid of the First Order, rallying them together won’t be an easy feat,” Lin said.

“Have you talked to any of the other planets?” you asked.

“No, I’ve been working on making arrangements here.”

“Arrangements?” you asked, but suddenly realized what he meant. “Your father was a senator.”

“Yes, and I’m afraid he was on Hosnian Prime when it was destroyed.”

“I’m so sorry, Lin, I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he said with a kind smile. “Like others, I want to avenge my father’s death, but my people’s safety is of the most importance to me.”

“I agree,” you said, leaning back in your chair. There were so many things to figure out, and it was only now that you were realizing how long it had been since you had slept. Your mother patted your shoulder, drawing your eyes to hers.

“No progress can be made tonight with tired eyes and grieving hearts. Why don’t we all get some sleep and reconvene in the morning,” she suggested.

“A wonderful idea,” Leia said, standing first.

“Y/N, come with me, you can stay with us,” your mother said, holding out her hand.

“I will, I just need to check in with Nové.”

“Okay,” she said reluctantly. Your father’s face had barely changed since Leia said Poe’s name, and you were not looking forward to a lecture tonight. With Leia at your side, you left the conference room to find the block of rooms that Lin had kindly laid out for you.

Nové stood outside one of the rooms, her arms folded across her chest. When she saw the two of you come down the hallway, she met you halfway.

“So, what’s the plan?” she asked.

“To get some rest,” Leia answered for you. She smiled at you both as she was ushered into a room by Commander D’Acy. “Goodnight, ladies.”

“Goodnight, General,” you both answered.

“What’s going on?” she asked when you were alone.

“We’re trying to figure out our next step. No one has any leads yet.”

“Your parents?”

“They’re my parents,” you said with a half laugh. “I’m glad to see them alive. My mother wants me to stay with them, I was hoping you had miraculously found some change of clothing in the Falcon.” Nové twisted her lips in an attractive smile.

“I can do you one better. One of Lin Ral’s servants gave me access to Serenno’s best seamstress, the one that designs all of the clothes for Lin and his family. She lent me a few dresses.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I’ll find you something to wear,” she said, motioning into the room to her left. Laid out on the bed were a few ruffled outfits, the fabrics of which were spilling out over each other to make a rainbow on the bed so that you couldn’t even tell what color the bedsheets were. “I may have gone through more than a few of them.”

“Gearing up for a date with Jessika when she gets back?” you asked.

“Maybe,” she challenged. “And you?” Your playful smile fell, making Nové lose hers, too. “What did your parents say?”

“Nothing, yet. I think they were too happy to see me to be angry that I was gone from Naboo, especially after they heard what happened. But when Leia mentioned Poe their mood definitely changed.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, handing you a nightgown.

“Thank you.”

“I’d invite you to sleep with me, but I know your parents are eager to get their hands on you.” You laughed and nodded your head.

“Yes. Thank you, Nové. For everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You too,” she called.

After changing, you made your way back to your parent’s room. As you stepped in, you found your mother sitting on the bed, nervously fidgeting with her long hair, and your father pacing the room in front of the window. They both turned when you entered.

“Hi,” you said.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Osira said, holding out her hand to you. You walked forward and took hers with a smile, sitting down next to her. “Nové was able to find something for you, then?”

“Yes.”

“You look exhausted.”

“I am,” you said with a soft smile. Your father was still pacing across the room. “Dad, what were you doing on Serenno in the first place?” you asked. If he wanted to fight, you might as well get it over with.

“Working out arrangements,” he said stiffly, glancing up briefly at you with cold eyes.

“For what?”

“Your engagement to Lin Ral, of course.”

“I haven’t agreed to that,” you said quickly. He scoffed and shook his head.

“What were you doing with the Resistance? You know what that could mean, going against the explicit wishes of the senate,” he spat.

“There isn’t a senate anymore.”

“You didn’t know that when you went, did you?” he asked, turning to look back at you again.

“No,” you admitted.

“I know you haven’t made your decision yet, Y/N,” he said, coming closer to you, “But you know going back to the Resistance was a bad choice.”

“I meant what I said in our meeting. The Resistance has always been in the right. You followed Leia when you were my age, why is it wrong for me to do the same?”

“It’s not wrong, you just need to see where you are more importantly needed,” he said, looking at you with pleading eyes. You pursed your lips and looked off. Your mother stroked your long hair cascading over your back, hoping to keep you calm so that this conversation could end smoothly. “Just, tell me one thing.”

“What?” you asked.

“You didn’t do it for him.” You narrowed your eyes as you looked up at him.

“Everything I did was for the good of the galaxy.” Henri nodded and stood up straight again.

“We all need some rest,” he said.

“Yes.”

You found your way to an attached room with a small bed and a water basin. You washed your face and felt the weight of your exhaustion as you fell into bed. The soft fabric of your dress reminded you of the smooth sheets on your bed back home on Naboo. You longed to be there, away from all of this mess. You snuggled into your pillow, thinking about the only person who could make living in Naboo any better than it already was.

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You awoke early, your anxiety making you unable to sleep any longer even if you were still tired. You crept out of bed and past your parent’s room, as if you were a fourteen year old again. The tall, dark walls of Serenno’s castle left much to the imagination. Every shadow seemed to hold a dark figure until further examination proved it was only a sculpture or base.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” You jumped and turned around to see Lin Ral standing a few feet from you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s alright. Are these hallways always so dark?”

“Yes,” he said with a laugh, “I’m afraid so.”

“What are you doing up?” you asked.

“I could ask you the same.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you said with a smile. “I can’t stop thinking about Naboo. About everything,” you said, your mind wandering off to Poe and his mission.

“I understand. Do you want to try to contact them again? Maybe a message will go through this time.”

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug.

“Couldn’t hurt to try. Besides, what else are we going to do in the middle of the night?” Your cheeks flushed, and you were grateful for the dark halls. Lin led you into a cozy library a few hallways down and got to work sending out a message to Naboo.

“Alright, well the transmission is sent, now all we can do is wait,” he said.

“Thank you.” He settled into the lounge chair across from you. His eyes were heavy with sleep, and you figured he was haunted by memories of his father and Hosnian Prime as well. “And thank you, again, for all of this,” you said, drawing his eyes up to you.

“It’s my pleasure.” The fire lit in the corner of the library left the room warm, and made you feel like you might actually get some sleep. Just as you felt your eyes start to droop, he spoke up again. “I’ve been thinking about how we can stop them,” he said quietly.

“Stop who?” you asked, sitting up.

“The First Order. I know everyone in the galaxy is scared, but I also know that they are willing to fight. Millions of lives were lost when Hosnian Prime was destroyed, but millions more were affected by those deaths. I guarantee there are others out there who want them destroyed just as much as you and I.”

“So, what do you recommend? We already destroyed their Starkiller Base.”

“And the rebels destroyed the Death Star, but the Empire still started to build it up again. We’ve got to put an end to them once and for all.” Your eyebrow peaked a little as you looked at him. His face was stonier than usual, missing its usual composed look. He was hurting and ready to fight. “With the Senate gone, there is no order in the galaxy. That needs to be our first step.”

“I agree, but how do we get people to join? The minute the First Order gets word a planet has joined our fight, they’ll send an attack, just like they did to Naboo.”

“Well, someone has to stand up to them.”

“I know, but we don’t want to put people in danger. We want to be different than the First Order. People need to join our fight because they want to, not because they have to. When Leia asked me to come ba— come to the Resistance,” you corrected quickly, “She wanted me to campaign for her. For too long the Resistance has flown undercover because the senate forbade it from doing anything else. We need to show the galaxy what the First Order is and what we can do to stop it.”

“What, just the two of us?”

“If that’s where we start, yes,” you said, scooting forward eagerly in your seat.

“Where to first, then?” he asked with a smile.

“People we can trust and who would be more eager to help out. Did your father have any friends in the senate?”

“A few.”

“Reach out to them first. We’ve got to get more people on our side before we look at harder targets. People are scared and the First Order is going to come looking for them. If they’re scared, they can be manipulated to their way of thinking.”

“We need to make a stand,” he said.

“And quickly.”

You spent the morning with Lin, planning out who would be the easiest to get on your side, and what help they could bring. You listed names, allies across the galaxy, where weapons and housing could be found, and everything in between. He seemed impressed by your knowledge of wartime rituals but didn’t push to find out how you knew. When Nové found you later that morning, the sunlight was streaming into the library, making the dark corners seem more welcoming.

“Morning,” she said, looking between the two of you curiously.

“Good morning, Nové,” Lin said with a kind smile.

“Morning,” you said as she sat down next to you.

“What’s going on in here?”

“A plan to reform the Republic,” Lin said eagerly. Nové raised an eyebrow at you and you shrugged.

“It’s a start.”

“It is,” she said appreciatively.

“We reached out to Naboo again.”

“Anything?” Nové asked. You shook your head. “Alright, well, your parents are looking for you.”

“Of course they are,” you sighed, standing up.

“Leia has gathered a meeting. I’m sure she’d be very pleased to hear what the two of you came up with.” You looked over at Lin who beamed at you.

“I’m sure.”

“I’ll meet you down there,” he said, standing. He nodded to you and Nové each before leaving the library. Nové waited until he was gone to look at you with wild eyes.

“What’s going on here?” she asked excitedly.

“I told you.”

“The two of you spent all night together?”

“Grow up,” you said, rolling your eyes, “I couldn’t sleep, and he found me wandering the halls. We just started talking and then began to flesh out our plan. Nothing else.”

“Oh, so it’s a shared plan?” she asked with a smirk.

“Well, we came up with it together, so yes.” Nové nodded her head and looked at you curiously. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just, he is kind of hot, though,” she said, looking longingly at the door.

“Why don’t you marry him, then,” you said, walking past her. She ran to catch up with you and laughed.

“Granted, he is no Poe.” You sighed and linked arms with her.

“No, he’s not.”

“I don’t think anyone ever will be in your book. Now, let’s get you dressed. We don’t want to excite your parents by finding you in your nightgown all night with Lin.”

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You hadn’t realized how tired you still were until Nové got you back to your small quarters. Staying up all night planning with Lin had been productive, but it hadn’t done anything for your mental or emotional state. Nové asked you a few questions, but you were too tired to answer anything. She picked out a gown for you and practically had to dress you in it herself.

“Think you can walk down to the conference room on your own?” she asked. You yawned through a laugh.

“I think so.”

“Good.”

“It’s just General Organa and my parents, right?” you asked, taking the Holopad from her, looking over the notes you had taken during your meeting with Lin.

“And Lin. And Finn and Rey. And probably a few other members of the Resistance.” You looked up at her and sighed. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Any word from Black Squadron, yet?”

“No,” she said with a frown, “But I’m sure they’re—”

“Of course,” you said, shaking your head. “In here?”

“Yep,” Nové said, opening the door for you.

Gathered around a large table was everyone Nové had listed, including Commander D’Acy and Lieutenant Connix. Your parents were the first to recognize that you had entered the room, and both smiled.

“Y/N,” your father said, pulling out the chair next to him.

“Am I late?” you asked, sitting down.

“No, just on time.”

“Lin Ral was just filling us in on your meeting,” your mother said with an excited smile.

“So, what do you think?” you asked.

“I think it’s a great idea,” your father said. “It would be a great start to your career in the sena—”

“The part I’m going to play in this is only to restore order to the galaxy. My devotion is still to Naboo,” you said, looking at him seriously. “And as Mom is still the representative of Naboo, I’m sure the two of you are the perfect people to lead the reformation of the senate. Lin and I came up with a rough plan, and of course, I will continue to support this effort, but that’s as far as I will go with this.”

“Very well,” your father said, averting his eyes from you. It was evident that he wanted to argue with you some more, but in this group, and the conviction you spoke with, he knew better.

“Rey, can you tell us anything about what the First Order’s next step is?” Leia asked.

“I’m not entirely sure. Kylo killed Snoke.”

“So, is he in charge of the First Order now?” you asked.

“I suppose. He wants to be in control of everything. He wants to get rid of the ‘old ways.’”

“The old ways?” Leia asked.

“He doesn’t want the Jedi, the Sith, anything. He wants to start over. With him as a leader.”

“And you by his side?” you asked. She looked into your eyes and nodded.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“If you’re here, it means you’re stronger than he is. That means he either wants you by his side or wants you destroyed. Maybe both.”

“Both sound pretty bad to me,” Finn muttered under his breath. You kept back your smile, noticing the flush to both his and Rey’s faces.

“We’ll need to create a new base in the meantime. Once we get Black Squadron back, we’ll regroup and assess our situation,” Leia said.

“What’s wrong with starting a base here?” Lin Ral asked.

“You’re very kind to house us, but we couldn’t put your planet in danger like that. We’d much rather find someplace more remote, in case worst comes to worst,” she explained.

“Very well, but you’ll stay here in the meantime.” He nodded at you specifically and you gave him a kind smile.

“Until we get word from Black Squadron, we’ll stay here. Make sure everyone knows,” Leia said, looking to Connix and D’Acy.

“Y/N,” your mother said, pulling you in close as the room began to clear, “I heard you spent the night with Lin.” You looked at your father who had the same excited expression on his face.

“We discussed plans to restore the Republic, nothing else,” you said, pulling your arm free. “I don’t know if you remember this, but I am still the queen of Naboo. I have a responsibility to my people.” You decided not to tack on ‘if they are still alive.’

“Y/N,” Leia called, drawing your attention to the door.

“Excuse me,” you said, quickly walking over to her.

“I heard about your night with Lin Ral,” she said, leading you into the long hallway. You rolled your eyes and started to argue, but she cut you off. “No, I think it’s a great thing. I need you rallying people together.”

“Leia, my parents and Lin will be doing the rallying, I’m—”

“Just going to go back to Naboo? Watch from afar as balance in the galaxy is destroyed in front of your eyes? That doesn’t sound like the Y/N I know,” she said with a knowing glare.

“Any word from Black Squadron?” you asked, looking down and changing the subject.

“They’re safe. Finishing things up on Ikkrukk. Poe wants us to meet him on Yavin 4.”

“I thought we decided against Yavin 4.”

“Well, you know how stubborn Poe can be.”

“Yes, I do.”

“It’s mostly just a visit. Say hi to some old friends, pick up supplies, and pla our next move.” You gave her a skeptical look and she sighed. “I don’t know Lin. I don’t know how trustworthy he is. I know I can trust Kes Dameron.”

“So what will you tell Lin?” you asked.

“Well, we can’t afford to lose allies. We’ll continue to keep an operational base here—”

“And a secret one on Yavin-4?” Leia frowned at you.

“I don’t have much of a choice. I want to put my faith in Serenno and would gladly do it if things weren’t so dire. I’m giving him a chance. That’s the best I can do, but I can’t bet the entire Resistance on Lin Ral’s smile.”

“That’s not what this is.”

“Good,” she said with a nod.

“Who’s to know about this secret, real base, then?” you asked.

“Black Squadron, Konnix, D’Acy. Finn and Rey. The few who are left and trustworthy.”

“My parents?”

“Your parents are the senate, just as Lin Ral is.”

“So they’re left out?”

“This cannot fail, Y/N,” she said, taking your hands. “If you can’t handle that—”

“I can handle it,” you said quickly.

“Good. We leave for Yavin 4 at noon. I want you there, but if you can’t keep it from your parents and Lin . . .” she trailed off.

“I can do it. Believe me, I’ve kept plenty of secrets from them before.”

“Very good. I’ll see you then.”

#poe dameron #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #sw imagine #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #sw #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction

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bornintartarus · 4 years

Text

Posted for the annual Jason Todd Birthday Week! Also on AO3

Jason's feet are numb as he walks the lonely streets of Gotham. They are barely protected against the ice and snow he treads upon, covered in the remnants of shoes that had been brand new five years ago. He wiggles his toes to bring back some warmth as he walks, hands tightened in his tattered jacket pockets. One of his hands is clenching the leather wallet he picked off a businessman chattering on his phone, the other a bracelet he stole from a woman when she helped him up after falling to his knees in the snow.

A stab of guilt worms its way into his young heart and he squashes it down resolutely. His mom needs this money, he needs this money. It's the only way they'll survive past this stupid winter.

Winter in Gotham City is much like everything else he's experienced in his life this far, brutally unforgiving and a death trap on the streets if you weren't careful. It makes him shiver in his sleep, the wind's screaming jolting him awake in the middle of the night. He loves his city, it's the only home he's ever known, but that doesn't stop him from being tired.

The stealing is rough, but it hurts less than coming back to his mom without anything to feed her. It doesn't help that she's getting weaker by the day, barely accepting anything to eat anymore. Jason fondly remembers the days before his life became a living nightmare, before his dad left and they were living out in the cold.

His mom was filled with life back then, her cheeks pink and eyes glowing. She was healthy, not starved and always exhausted. He had sobbed at first when he realized what the drugs were doing to her, depriving him of a mother who was actually capable of taking care of him. There is no sparkle in her eyes now, all traces of mischief and adventure gone.

Jason realizes that he doesn't really know his mom anymore.

Wind whips at his cheeks, pushing hair in front of his eyes. He brushes it aside with trembling fingers and readjusts his hood to cover more of his face, gasping when the wind steals its way through the cracks and engulfs his ears in the freezing cold air.

Better hats, better socks, better gloves- there's a list of clothes he needs to survive this season, all with expensive price tags. It's either being cold or going hungry, and even at eight years old Jason's smart enough to know which one will get him killed first.

He has an actual list too, one back in that ramshackle shelter he and his mom call their home. He used to carry it with him, but just looking at the store windows made him want to tear it to pieces with desperation. They need food that isn't stale, water that's hot, clothes that actually fit. He doesn't know how much longer he can go on like this.

They've only been out on the streets for two years now, and a part of him swears he's never been this cold. He spent the last couple of days nailing scraps of wood and plastic garbage to block up the cracks at their little shelter, trying to root out where the cold air forces its way in. He spends the rest of his time out on the streets, scrounging for anything that can substitute for blankets and stealing things here and there from people to buy food from the dingy convenience store around the corner.

He takes the time to check on his mom, usually just to reassure himself that she's still breathing.

"Hi mom."

His throat closes up and not for the first time he wishes he was less of a crier.

"I have to run out to get some things."

No response.

Jason sniffles and holds back tears. He can do this, it's been two years, but seeing his mom like this never fails to cripple him.

He clears his throat. "I'll be back soon."

He doesn't expect a reply as he whispers a quick "Love you" and bolts away.

So that's what he's doing now, out in the cold. As he passes the Gilzean's Turf he keeps his head as low as possible, making himself smaller as he inches away. He's perfected the art of being invisible over the years, the only way to get away with trespassing on another gang's land. He knows that the gang members in Gotham have no qualms about killing children, hell, half of them make a living by selling drugs to kids in public schools. The thought makes his blood boil with anger.

He skirts around one of the drug dealers, hands inadvertently clenching around his stolen items. If he's caught with the wallet and the bracelet he'll be a prime target for life.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he finally passes safely, but something bright stops him in his tracks.

The store window is closing for the day, but the lights are still on and the cakes are on display. He hasn't seen anything this beautiful in the two years he's lived on the streets. The cakes come in all shapes, colors and sizes, but the one that catches his eye is fire engine red, yellow and orange icing swirling on top to imitate flames. The whole thing has a ridiculous toy fire truck on the top, and at that moment all Jason desperately wants to know is if it's edible or not.

He's stomach is growling with hunger while his mouth waters in vain. His fingers twitch at his sides restlessly. He doesn't know how long he stands there, cold, tired, hungry.

It's his birthday.

He's turning nine, he knows he's turning nine. It's his second birthday on the streets and he misses everything he's lost.

He misses his full stomach, his friends at school, his warm bed. He misses his books and toys, and the way his mom used to laugh when they spent time together.

He misses it all, and none of it is coming back. The feeling hurts more than anything he's ever felt, and he wonders if the hollow feeling in his chest will subside over time.

Suddenly, someone in the store shuts off the lights and the cake vanishes from view, a pang of misery resonating within him. It's gone, and some lucky kid will probably eat it tomorrow.

He stuffs his shivering hands back into his pockets, hands immediately finding the wallet. At least they'll have food tonight.

He makes his way back home after stopping at the convenience store, purchasing two cans of microwavable soup and a bottle of water with a $20 bill. The cashier looks suspicious as he hands over the change, and unease ripples through his empty stomach until he leaves.

He wastes no more time getting back, drinking the cold soup straight from the can. It's the cheapest he could find, greasy and too salty, and the chilly liquid does nothing to prevent the chills racking his skinny frame. Pouring the other into a chipped ceramic Tupperware container, he makes his way to his mom.

"Mom?"

She's awake this time, eyes glassy. Catherine Todd is right in front of him, but all Jason wants to do is cry about how far away she is.

"I brought you soup. You need to eat some this time, alright?"

She turns her head to face him briefly but doesn't respond. He sits next to her and tries to stop his hands from shaking as he feeds her small spoonfuls of soup.

She gets through half of it before she's pushing him away. He leaves the bottle of water next to her, knowing with a heavy heart that he'll find it unopened in the morning.

He pecks her on the cheek and pulls their best blanket over her, pausing to say goodnight before he leaves.

He knows that it'd be warmer if they slept together, but he knows he can't handle seeing her so frail for longer than an hour, and his crying upsets her.

He pulls out his raggedy piece of carpet to cover himself with to bed. He found it a couple of weeks ago in a garbage can, it's the warmest thing he possesses.

He makes a wish, hoping that his mom will live long enough to be there for his tenth birthday.

He dreams of red fire trucks.

___________________________________

ii.

It doesn't take long for time to pass; the days blur into weeks and weeks into months. The cold fades away and suddenly Gotham is warm again, bathed in summer light. The trees grow new leaves, the birds come back, and in no time at all the world moves on.

Wayne Manor hasn't changed in the slightest. The famous Robin costume hangs in the cave, Batman's proudly standing next to it. The manor is spotless as always, the endless hallways and rooms free of dust. The banisters are polished, the fireplaces cleaned of any ash.

Bruce's life simultaneously feels normal and completely out of order at the same time.

He still gets dressed in the morning, still eats breakfast and leaves for Wayne Enterprises. He still deals with boring meetings and pesky co-workers who won't stop staring at him.

It's difficult to get out of bed nowadays.

That, at least, is new. The wretched feeling of hopelessness weighing him down like an anvil. It makes his head hurt and his hands shake. His chest is left feeling tight and it’s always hard to breathe.

No matter how hard he tries to hide it, he knows almost everyone can see the change in him now, and a part of him hates himself for being weak while another part can't muster up the energy to give a damn. Lucius gives him pitying looks whenever he drifts off during a conversation. The league members are more gentle with him now, speaking in low tones without the biting remarks from before. Alfred tries his best to hide his concern when Bruce wakes himself up in the middle of the night screaming his son's name.

Everyone treats him like glass now, fragile, delicate, and liable of shattering. It doesn't help that it's exactly how Bruce feels, like one wrong word could break him for good. The only time he can remember hurting this bad was when he was eight years old and kneeling in front of his parent's bodies in that god forsaken alley.

He lets out a whimper of despair when he remembers finding a 10 year old Jason in that very alley, wrench in hand and grime on his face. He shoves his head into his hands to try and bury the memory, pulling at his hair.

The boy had looked so guilty, crouching in front of the Batmobile. He reminded Bruce of a scared cat, frightened to come forward but fierce in a fight.

He brought the kid a burger.

It had seemed logical at the time, Jason was obviously starving and he figured it was a smart way to get the boy to trust him.

That memory used to make him feel proud, now all he feels is nausea churning through his stomach.

If Jason never met him in the first place he'd still be alive. Maybe hungry and out of school but still breathing.

Adopting Jason had been different from adopting Dick. Dick was cautious as a child, still grieving over his parent's gruesome deaths. When Bruce looked into the acrobat's eyes he saw himself, someone desperately alone who needed love and support. When Jason was brought into his life it was sudden but welcome, and it made Bruce feel a little less lonely in the Manor since his first child spent most of his time in the Titans Tower.

Loving Dick felt like a responsibility, in a way. The boy deserved the attention Bruce had been deprived of after Martha and Thomas Wayne were murdered. It made him proud to witness Dick's journey through teenage years, standing by his side in some of Gotham's darkest moments. He's fought Penguin and Scarecrow and Riddler, and he gets better every time.

The arguing was new, but Bruce knows it's normal. He just wishes it didn't rile him as much as it does. Their fighting is loud, angry and sharp. Words are tossed around, ones that hurt, and they make Alfred sigh sadly. He can't help but feel annoyed at Dick acting out, but he knows that Dick hates it more when he gets left out.

It doesn't take long for Dick to realize he needs some space, and Bruce doesn't stop him when he leaves to train with the Titans.

But in that amount of time Jason Todd has wormed his way into his heart, slowly but surely. He manages to fill the gaping hole in Bruce's heart, and he comes to love the boy more than anything. While his love for Dick is as natural as breathing, instinctual at this point, his love for Jason is all-consuming, and it burns inside of him like a roaring flame.

Dick was never happy about Jason's presence in their lives, and he'd told Bruce once that it made him feel replaced and unwanted. It was hard work, but eventually the four of them had learned to make it work, coexisting with some semblance of normalcy. Nothing made Bruce happier than seeing his sons get along, and it made his heart swell with pride.

Life was good. Dick came by the manor more often and they fought less, Jason was settling in nicely, Alfred was overjoyed. Their small family wasn't normal, but Bruce gave up tradition when he put on the cowl for the first time.

Bruce wants that life back so badly. His heart aches and his head burns with memories. Dick is grieving as well, in his own way. It hurts to see Dick at his worst, awakens something primal in him that screams and shouts, demanding his attention. Dick runs himself ragged, stubbornly contributing to the Titans Team and Gotham at the same time. When Bruce voices his concerns, Dick shouts at him, cries out that he’s doing the best he can.

It makes Bruce feel even more like a failure.

In the end he holds Dick while he weeps and tries to pull himself together, because Dick’s grief is his fault, Jason’s death is his fault.

Today is as bad as any day, his legs feel like dead weights and his brain is mush. He knows how to get past this, he’s been battling this feeling for almost a year now. He swings his legs to the side of the bed and pulls himself upright.

He picks up the phone lying on the bedside table next to him and starts scrolling through his notifications. He reads through the schedule Lucius has made for him for the day, making mental notes as he goes along. He makes adjustments when needed, planning on the meetings he’ll attend. He swears internally when he realizes he’s overbooked for 5:00. He wastes no time switching to his calendar, searching for a free spot when he freezes.

The date is there, staring him in the face like a warning sign. He gazes at the letters almost hypnotically until they’re etched into his brain.

August 16.

He barely gets the chance to register the fact that his legs are moving until he’s crouching on the bathroom tiles, throwing up his dinner from the night before. Sweat beads his forehead as heaves, unable to focus on anything except the fact that it's August 16.

When it finally ends he pulls his legs forward and haunches himself up into a ball on the floor, head tucked inwards. Tears escape and he sobs, grief tearing his heart in two.

17. His little boy would have turned 17 years old.

The realization makes panic seize his chest until he’s gasping for air, fingers trembling as they scramble for purchase. There are hands on his shoulders, warm steady ones pulling him out of his head.

“Bruce, it’s gonna be alright.”

The words float towards him like distant echoes.

“I need you to breathe for me B, c’mon.”

He’s had panic attacks before but in his experience there’s no way to be fully prepared for one. His throat feels like it’s closing up, palms sweaty. His eyes bounce back and forth manically, finally settling on his eldest son.

“That’s good. Focus on me now.”

He tries his best, and eventually his breathing slows. Dick eases himself onto the floor gracefully, covering Bruce’s trembling hands with his own.

“Talk to me Bruce.”

After months spent alone, struggling to get through the days and dealing with his grief alone it’s all that’s needed to break the dam.

“He would have turned 17 today.”

The words are barely a whisper, but he can’t stop the tears that roll down his face from the confession. Dick squeezes his hand and gives him a silent nod of encouragement.

“If I hadn’t gotten him involved with being Robin in the first place he’d still be alive today.”

Dick shakes his head firmly.

“This is my fault, Dick, I-”

“Remember when he put on the suit for the first time?”

His brain scrambles as he's taken back to that day. Like he’d ever be able to forget. Jason was so excited he’d been worried about him falling off one of the buildings while he ran and leaped, doing somersaults in midair.

“He put it on and preened in front of a mirror, then jumped onto a table and screamed about it being the best day of his life, remember?"

Dick laughs softly and Bruce can't help but return the favour with a watery chuckle.

They sit for a few more moments, collecting their thoughts. Dick turns to face him.

"Here's what we're going to do B. You're gonna change, I'm going to help Alfred with breakfast and call Lucius to tell him you're taking the day off."

Bruce groans. "No, Dick, I've got the product launch meeting to supervise, the company's been working on it for months-"

His eldest gives him a hand to help him off the floor and glares at him. "You're taking the day off. Don't make me bring Alfred into this."

He finally relents, heading back to his bedroom to find some clothes. Dick retreats to the kitchen, grinning victoriously.

He abandons the suit he was preparing to wear to work and picks out the softest sweatshirt he owns instead. His phone rings unexpectedly and he grabs it, expecting it to be Lucius.

"Bruce?"

Clark's soft voice rings through the phone and Bruce's breath catches. He hastily presses it to his ear.

"What's wrong? Is it Metropolis or the Justice league?"

He's already running the scenarios through his head, calculating the amount of time it'll take to grab his batsuit and get there.

The voice on the other end halts, Clark clearing his throat. His unease grows.

"No, Bruce." The kryptonian sounds surprisingly gentle. "This is about Jason."

Ah.

Bruce takes a minute to wipe the tears stubbornly forming at the corner of his eyes again. Clark uses that silence to continue.

"Look, I know what today feels like for you and your family. I've been there."

The emotion in his voice instantly lets Bruce know that his friend is talking about Jonathan Kent. Clark's father had passed away two years ago from a heart attack. The memory is still fresh in his mind, Clark barely holding himself together as he spoke at the funeral, clutching his mother's hand.

He swallows. "It's just hard-" his voice cracks with emotion and he starts over. "Hard to move on. A part of me feels like I'm just leaving him behind if I forget the moments we spent together."

He doesn't feel like locking his emotions away this time, he's been doing it for the last couple of months and it's definitely making him worse. The reasoning makes him feel significantly better about his breakdown.

"How are Dick and Alfred holding up?"

"Better then I am, but at this point I have no idea. A part of me is afraid that Dick's distracting himself from his grief by taking care of me instead. He's spreading himself too thin with Gotham and the Teen Titans and-"

Clark stops him before he starts spilling his soul into the phone. "Alright, so work through this together. It's pretty obvious that you both need each other right now."

"I know he needs me but I don't know how-"

He can hear Clark's smile through the phone. "Bruce, c'mon, you're overthinking this. Just be there for him, trust me."

Bruce swallows audibly. "Alright."

"I'm here too, if you need me. For anything."

And shit if that doesn't make him want to start crying again. He manages to whisper his thanks and accepts Clark's casual "Anytime."

He hangs up, and heads downstairs, eating breakfast with Dick and Alfred. The rest of the day passes without incident, Dick calls Lucius and they spend his day-off relaxing in the manor and taking strolls around the grounds. Overall the day is one of the best he's had in a long time.

That doesn't stop him from going to visit Jason's grave in the middle of the night, shakily opening up his copy of Oliver Twist and reading it out loud until his tears start to blur the words.

___________________________________

iii.

He spits out curses as he walks down the street, breathing laboured under his signature red hood. His ribs are bruised and he can't seem to muster up enough energy to hide his brand new limp.

Black Mask's men had attempted to take over some of his turf once again. Usually Jason didn't mind, it was pretty low on his list of concerns. He let them have it for a couple of days before moving in, killing most of the idiots on sight. He figured Black Mask would get some better men by now but it seemed he was as much an idiot as they were.

The problem with this particular spot was that it was home to an apartment he'd brought earlier and rented out to a couple of street kids. They were all minors, some of them living on their own while others lived with roommates. If Jason was loyal to anyone it was those kids and he wasted no time going in with guns blazing.

Not exactly the nicest way to start off his 23rd birthday but hey no one could say it hadn't started off with a bang.

At least all the kids were safe. Most of Sionis's men were dead, but that was normal at this point. One of the kids stopped him as he left, concern painting his features.

"You look like shit man, stay here."

At least the kid had spunk; not all of them were brave enough to approach him. He looked about 15, barely fitting into clothes that were dirty and about two sizes too large. Jason searches his memory for a name, comes up blank. He might have been one of the kids who tagged along when he'd picked up someone else.

His musing is interrupted as the kid steps in front of him.

"I'm serious, you look like you're about to keel over."

Jason ignores the lightheaded feeling as his surroundings spin lazily around him. He clears his throat.

"I'm good. Make sure you lock the windows and doors tonight, call me if anything happens."

The kid nods, looking unconvinced. Jason pushes forward.

All he wants to do is spend the night snoozing in one of his safe houses, but the thought of sleeping in one of his cots makes him groan with discomfort. The possessions he keeps in his safe houses are always meager, he doesn't want to lose his supplies over something as stupid as being caught.

He prepares to walk home and scowls when he realizes he's going to need to stop somewhere for food, his stomach is growling. He makes a right on the next street and propels himself to the nearest grocery store, grateful that it's a dingy place with hardly any customers.

He ducks into the alley next to it and ditches his helmet, breathing in the fresh air as it comes off. He swaps it for a baseball cap and covers up his suit with a light jacket. He zips it up as he makes his way into the store, head down and steps purposeful.

He browses the shelves and picks out some water bottles and stops at the freezers to grab microwave lasagna. He grins at the thought of Alfred shuddering at his meal choices, he could practically hear the man complaining about the unhealthy ingredients used.

On his way to check out he finds a table cheerfully advertising cupcakes that are 50% off. They look like they're on the verge of expiring but it's been a while since he's had something sweet. He shrugs and picks up a pack that isn't too crushed.

He dumps his items on the conveyer belt and roots through his pocket for money, groaning internally when the price totals to $27.88. Money isn't hard to find nowadays, what with all of the connections he's gathered over the years, but a small part of him is still a starving nine year old desperate to feed himself with the little he has.

He wonders dimly if that part of him will ever fade.

He's startled out of his thoughts for the second time that night but the woman behind the cashier. He knows he needs to bandage his wounds and sleep it off, but he can't do that unless he focuses and gets his ass back to the safe house.

The woman's name tag indicates that her name is René and she peers at him worriedly from behind her glasses.

He flashes her a tired smile. "Sorry, I'm a little distracted tonight." He hands over the cash and she busies herself with the register, printing out his receipt. While the machine spits out the paper she turns to face him again.

"Are you alright? You look like you were hit by a car."

Even when Jason was a street kid, he loved to watch people. It was a great way to practice his thieving skills, finding out who would be an easy target long before slipping his hands in their pockets. One thing all citizens in Gotham had in common was their bluntness when it came to the crazy crime sprees and sudden robberies. Barely anyone batted an eye when there was a home invasion, and unless the body count was above five it wasn't even featured in the local newspapers.

To outsiders the cold disinterest might've been considered cruel, but it didn't take Jason long to figure out that it was the way that people coped. Keeping yourself numb kept the pain at bay, and he could probably relate to that fact more than anyone.

So René's reaction to an injured young man showing up at her store instead of a hospital wasn't surprising, but at least he could deal with this.

"I'm fine. Just ran into some people, you know how it goes."

She nods as she bags his items, pausing with the cupcakes.

"You sure you want these? I know it's technically my store but you seriously don't want to know how long they've been on these shelves."

He can't stop the sudden bark of laughter at her words and tries to stop himself from doubling over and crying out. He's starting to reconsider his original evaluation of the state of his ribs.

In the end all he manages is turning away and wheezing, trying to quell the coughs that makes his insides feel like they're on fire.

René stares at him with unease, looking like she wants to simultaneously pat him on the shoulder and take a couple steps back at the same time.

She settles for grabbing him a bottle of cold water from the fridge behind her, unscrewing the cap and pushing it into his shaking hands. She glares at him until he relents and takes a gulp, the cool liquid soothing his dry throat. He keeps his eyes on her as he finishes it.

"Thanks."

"If you start coughing up blood like the dude in the horror movie I saw last night I'm kicking you out. I'm not staying overtime, I got a girlfriend to binge Stranger Things with," she warns, not unkindly.

"Wouldn't dream of it." He gives her a smirk, or tries to. He'd like to think he pulled it off. "And yeah, I'll take the cupcake. I am the birthday boy after all."

She raises an eyebrow. "No kidding? I'm guessing the blood and twisted ankle is from a surprise party gone wrong?"

He doesn't grin this time, eyes focused on the bags containing his items.

He keeps his tone carefully uninterested. "Nope. Decided to celebrate the occasion on my own this year."

He doesn't miss her sigh. Once you move to Gotham you see some things on a daily basis that make you stop questioning the why behind the crimes. It's just a fact of life at this point, trees are green, pizza is good and Gotham is where bloodthirsty maniacs call home sweet home. She's probably seen thousands of tired, ragged kids on their own stumbling into her store just like he's done tonight.

The thought stirs up the familiar rage he's been carrying with him since he was little. The sick feeling that haunts him as he sleeps, the knowledge that the children in his city are raped, beaten, kidnapped and killed almost regularly.

He grabs his purchases and avoids René's gaze, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. He knows he's practically running out of the store but can't seem to give a damn.

He's already outside when he hears it, the shout muted through the glass doors.

"Happy birthday!"

It's enough to stop him in his tracks as he contemplates going back. She was nice to him, there's no reason to leave things awkward.

He settles for sticking his head back in the door and yelling out a "Thanks!" before bolting.

He heads back home, head throbbing in tune with his heart. He shrugs off the dizziness as he walks, pausing to catch his breath as he leans against the wall of a building. He inhales the sharp smell of cigarettes and gasoline, a combination he's been familiar with for longer than he can remember.

Cars speed past him, the bright lights almost dizzying as they flash across his vision. He rubs his hands against his eyes to get rid of the bright spots, trying to quell his rising nausea.

Miraculously he makes it back in one piece, and it takes all of his willpower not to collapse on his cot and pass out. He heads to the small shower and runs the water until it's hot, shedding his jacket and dirty armour. He climbs in and sighs out loud at the blissful feeling. He shampoos his dark hair, fingers dragging through his scalp as he works in the soap until it starts to foam.

He rinses it all off, wincing slightly when the hot spray of water hits the worst of his bruising. He grabs a towel and grabs some clean clothes, settling into a comfortable tee and a pair of sweatpants. He dries his hair methodically, swiping the first aid kit from his bathroom cabinet, an ice pack from the fridge and his plastic bag of items from the store.

He settles on the cot and cleans out his wounds with antiseptic. One of the cuts is deep enough for stitches, and he clenches the muscles in his jaw as he passes the needle through his skin. It's a task he's done countless times before, usually without anesthetic. He finishes the job neatly, snipping the thread and dabbing it with antiseptic before wrapping up the whole thing in gauze bandages.

He works on the bruising on his torso next, which is covered with black and blue. He rubs salve over the worst of them and bandages the rest.

His leg is last, his ankle throbbing from the walk home. He focuses on the part that's swollen and red, grimacing as he alternates between pressing the ice pack to his ankle and the bump on his head. He's fairly certain it's not bad enough to be a concussion but it's giving him a headache. He makes sure to keep his ankle elevated and rifles through his purchases, pushing the conversation with René out of his mind.

He's starving, hasn't had anything to eat all day. He's too exhausted to muster up the energy to get back up to heat his frozen dinner, so he leaves the lasagna for now and grabs the cupcake instead.

It's minuscule, barely the size of his palm and covered in bright yellow icing. Little blue sprinkles are scattered on top. He unwraps the white wrapper and takes a cautious bite.

It doesn't take long for him to register the taste and he spits it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeves. The cupcake is definitely stale, rock hard and inedible. Imagining Alfred's disapproving face makes him grin.

He decides that at least alcohol is worth getting up for and heaves himself off the cot. He's careful with his ankle, maneuvering his body to ensure that most of his weight is on his good leg.

He scoops up the frozen lasagna from the floor and heads to what substitutes for his kitchen, containing just a tiny fridge and a microwave. He puts his meal in a microwave safe dish and watches it as it cooks, grabbing a spoon and a can of beer while he waits.

The friendly beep signals that it's done, and he curses when the plate burns his fingers slightly as he walks back to his cot. He studies the books kept carefully organised on his shelf, picking one at random.

Finally he settles, sighing in relief when his twisted ankle is cushioned and iced once more. He pops the lid and takes a satisfying swallow, putting it aside to eat the lasagna.

Happy birthday to me! He thinks sarcastically. The lasagna is warm but doesn't even come close to some of the after-school snacks Alfred had made him when he was 13.

He digs through his food, pausing momentarily to flip through the book. His heart hardens when he realizes that it's a battered copy of Gone With the Wind. Memories flit through his head, Bruce reading it to make him fall asleep and Dick taking him to a library to renew his borrowed copy for the billionth time.

He figures that it's poetic enough for the occasion and opens it up to page one.

“Scarlett O’Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were. In her face were too sharply blended the delicate features of her mother, a Coast aristocrat of French descent, and the heavy ones of her florid Irish father. But it was an arresting face, pointed of chin, square of jaw. …eyes… brows… lashes… magnolia-white skin…so prized by Southern women… bonnets, veils, mittens… against hot Georgia suns.”

He smiles at the familiar words, nostalgia overtaking him as he reads.

___________________________________

iv.

Steph and Cass were the first to bring it up, crashing into his current safe house like they owned the place.

He will grudgingly admit that it isn't entirely unwelcome, spending time with his sisters makes him feel less like a bastard.

That didn't mean the topic was a good one, and Jason is willing to ditch his very nice safe house in an attempt to escape.

"Please, Jason? For us?"

Steph is practically begging at this point and Cass is looking more and more like a kicked puppy every minute.

"No. Not a chance in hell."

Steph rolls her eyes. "C'mon big bro, live a little! It's not like it'll kill you."

Cass, the little devil that she is, grins at that while he groans.

"You did not just bring up the death card." He stabs a finger in her chest. "I'm the only one who gets to use the death card."

She blows a raspberry at him at him and winks. Cass tugs on his shoulders.

"It'll be fun."

Jason snorts. "Yeah right. Spending a whole evening with my greatly extended family for a birthday bash sounds exactly like fun to me." sarcasm drips from every word as he puts air quotations around "birthday bash".

Cass hits him and glares at her.

"Alright, ow, you don't have to be mean!"

Steph grins. "Does that mean you'll come?"

Jason shakes his head and dodges the expected blow from Cass. He smirks. "No, that means I'll consider coming."

Step shrugs. "Good enough."

Thankfully that's the worst of it and they spend the rest of the time eating chips and playing Mario Kart.

His luck doesn't last though and Tim is next. They're barely halfway through staking out a weapons drop-off when the interrogation starts.

"So, your birthday's Sunday huh?"

Jason lets out a laugh. "Subtlety was never your element."

"Everyone's hoping you'll-"

Jason waves him off. "Yeah, yeah, show up at the manor out of the blue and spend the evening with you guys, Cass and Steph already gave me the rundown."

Tim smiles at that. "I'm not surprised.” He frowns thoughtfully. “I am surprised that you didn't agree right away though, those two are fierce when they want something."

"And I'm not?" Jason can't stop himself from asking or the annoyance that comes with it.

Tim puts on a mock expression of sadness. “Don’t worry Jason, I’m sure the street thugs are still scared of you. But face it, Cass is a full blown assassin, you couldn't compare in the slightest.”

Jason shoves the younger teen and Tim cackles. “Fuck off!”

As Tim regains his balance the truck beneath them finally starts its engine. He knows Tim still wants to continue the conversation but he brushes him off hastily.

“Too bad, guess we’ll have to finish this later!”, He sings, unable to contain his smugness.

Tim scowls. “Whatever dude, but don’t come crawling back to me when Dick finally makes his move.”

And with that happy thought the pair are off into the night, conversation forgotten almost immediately.

As the week progresses he isn’t surprised to see Dick’s number ringing on his cell in the middle of a turf war. He ducks behind a car as the gunfire gets progressively louder as he groans out loud.

“Dickiebird, make this quick. I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

“Are those guns?”

Jason smirks despite his situation. “Nah, just some moron doing fireworks in his backyard.”

“In the middle of the day?”

“Who are you to judge, going out in spandex at night-”

“It’s not spandex, dammit, how many times are we going to argue about this-”

Jason cuts him off again. “Whatever dude, told you, I'm a little busy-”

His brother snorts at the end of the line. “Sure. What a busy life you lead, without a day-job and any personal relationships that haven’t been forced onto you by your loving family.”

Jason grins. “Hard day at the police station, Officer Grayson?”

Dick sighs audibly. “We’ve had three complaints filed at the station for incidents relating to this one stupid cat who invades people’s backyards. The little guy’s a menace and has no owner. I’ve been talking to angry neighbors all day today and i’m pretty sure Rowell broke the coffee machine too but he won’t admit it and I haven’t had any goddamn coffee all day today-”

Jason rubs at his eyes, trying to quell the headache that’s already forming. “Slow down, you’re starting to sound like Tim. Remind me why you work at the police station again?”

Dick sighs again and the sound flashes Jason back to Bruce after he used to return from a long day at Wayne Enterprises.

“To help people legally”, Dick drawls, annoyance creeping into his words.

Jason snaps his fingers intentionally knowing his brother can’t see him. “Exactly! If you weren’t so hell-bent on being a good person you might be less miserable on a daily basis!”

“Shut up, Jason.”

“Make me. Any reason you’re calling me in the first place?”

“Just wondering if you have plans for Sunday-”

Jason hangs up.

He’s starting to tick off the family he has left, he doubts that Bruce or Alfred will approach him and that leaves Barbara, Damian and Duke.

He decides to grab some coffee and a croissant before heading out for the day, stomach rumbling at the thought. For once he’s not in a hurry, so he smiles at the woman at the cafe who brings him his order and settles down to enjoy it on one of the park benches.

He’s taken his first bite when Damian slides in next to him, trying not to choke at the sudden appearance of the youngest Wayne.

Damian notices his reaction and smirks like the little shit he is, folding his hands neatly in his lap. After he gets over his shock he’s taken aback at how casually Damian’s dressed.

“You look relaxed”, he points out, sipping his coffee.

Damian scowls. “Tt. Jonathan’s convinced I need to blend in using civilian attire.”

Well that makes him grin. “Jonathan Kent huh?” He elbows his brother in the ribs. “Spending a lot of time with him lately, aren’t you?”

The shade of red peppering Damian’s face is gratifying and he can’t stop himself from laughing out loud as his brother fumes silently.

"There's nothing going on between me and Kent, you imbecile, and even if there was-"

Jason puts his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, jeez. But if you ever need advice or someone to talk to, I'll be here."

The offer seems to take Damian aback and his shuts up, looking thoughtful. "We'll see," he finally mutters.

Jason claps his hands. "Awesome. I'm guessing you're up next to torture me about my birthday?"

Damian nods. He puts a warning hand on his arm.

"Don't even think about running away. I'm a trained assassin, I will find you."

"Having fun is hard for you isn't it?" Jason replies idily, staring up at the blue sky.

Damian ignores the jibe. "Think about Bruce's face, Todd. He'll think he's finally gone delusional if you end up showing up."

Jason opens his mouth with mock surprise. "Are you trying to bribe me with the opportunity to give your own dad a heart attack?"

The younger boy sniffs. "He can handle it. The others just want you to be there."

He doesn't include himself in that sentence but Jason gets the message. Damian wouldn't be here if he didn't care.

Oh, how he hated to disappoint.

Damian shakes his head resolutely, a gesture so Bruce-like it gives Jason deja-vu.

"I thought that'd be your response. Which is why I came up with a back up plan."

Well fuck if he doesn't like the sound of that, recalling Damian's earlier threat when he consideres running away for the hundredth time. Damian bends over to rummage through the bag he brought with him, and Jason smiles when he sees the amount of knives instead and something that resembles a katana sheath.

Eventually his brother finds his phone and presses a few buttons, handing it to Jason with a smirk as it rings steadily.

Jason contemplates dropping the phone and stamping on it until it shatters when the person on the end picks up.

"Master Jason, I assume that's you?"

He freezes like a deer in headlights and Damian's smirk grows impossibly wider. The little shit! He knew this was going to be a deathtrap.

"Master Jason, you know it's rude to leave someone waiting."

The british accent is one he hasn't heard in a while, and the familiarity of it makes him want to tear up. He holds the phone up to his ear with a shaky hand.

"Hi, Alfred."

"Ah, you're alive. I'm assuming Master Damian has explained what this is about?"

He shoots his brother a dirty look, the other inspecting his fingers smugly.

"Yeah, he may have mentioned it."

"Excellent. You'll be at the manor on Sunday then?"

His throat is dry. "Or course."

"Wonderful. Come no later than 7, Master Jason, the others will be delighted."

"I'm sure they will", he mumbles.

Alfred hangs up after they exchange goodbyes and he hands the phone back to Damian.

"You're a cheater."

Damian shrugs. "Honestly, you should have expected that to happen eventually."

"Demon spawn," he mutters under his breath.

"Piece of shit," the younger retorts.

Jason raises his eyebrows but can't exactly say that he's surprised and resigns himself to his fate, but not before delivering some well-deserved pay back.

"So, about Jon-"

Damian shoots him a warning glare and leaves.

"Karma's a bitch little wing!" he yells at the quickly retreating form, ignoring the annoyed looks of the people around them. Jason sighs and finally finishes his croissant in peace.

So now he's standing in front of Wayne manor, trying to school his features into something that doesn't look like apprehension. He's wearing casual clothing, jeans and a sweater. A part of him wanted to wear his full Red Hood suit just to get under the idiot's skins but there was no way he was wearing full bullet proof armour all evening long.

He jogs past the fancy garden sculptures and fountains, letting himself into the unlocked house. He makes his way through the foyer, finding his family huddled around an Xbox playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare.

The group is laughing, smiles all around as they banter back and forth. His heart aches dimly to be a part of that something, an intense yearning to be integrated into their family dynamic. It looked so easy.

The moment's ruined as soon as Dick spots him and wraps him up in a hug. "You made it!" The grin on his face is blinding. "Guys, birthday boy has arrived!"

Fuck this. This family sucks.

"Jesus Dickface, get off-"

"You're crushing him Dick", Barbara says, tone reproachful.

And jeez, literally everyone is there. Tim, Duke and Steph are crouched on the floor, still engrossed in the video game. Damian is standing beside Dick, looking too smug for his own good. Barbara and Cass are right behind them.

Someone starts to ruffle his hair as they walk past. He's about to shove the hand away when he sees who it belongs to.

"Aunt Kate?"

Kate grins. "Good to see you kid. Happy birthday!"

"I wasn't expecting you to be here."

Kate shrugs. "Life's been slow recently and besides, there was no way I was going to miss a Wayne party!"

He laughs at that, making his way over to give her a hug. Kate has always been one of his favorite people, he distinctly remembers the chocolate she used to smuggle to him when Bruce wasn't looking and she hung out during patrol.

Bruce and Alfred are next to enter the room, and Jason smirks when he sees Bruce stop his sentence abruptly when he sees his second son. Jason catches Damian's eye as he winks.

"Hey Bruce."

Bruce cautiously steps forward, unease rippling across his features. Things have been better lately but some wounds take longer to heal then others. He squashes the guilt as Tim's bloody face flashes beneath his eyelids.

"It's good to see you Jason."

Jason spreads his hands. "It took some convincing," he replies, words directed at the others. Tim smiles and Dick laughs.

Alfred wastes no time drawing him into a tight hug, one that no one comments on after Jason gathers his composure.

Alfred smiles brightly at all of them, and fuck, Jason knows that coming was worth it.

"Dinner will be served shortly, if you all want to follow me to the kitchen?"

There's a mutter of agreement around the room and Jason is soon swept into various activities. Dick grabs the plates while Bruce helps Alfred with the dishes. Cass and Duke chat as they swipe cutlery while Tim and Steph set the table. Damian carries the knives, rather ominously in Jason's opinion but no one bats an eye.

There's some jostling as everyone finds a seat, Damian and Tim shoving each other to get the chair next to Dick. Cass finally sighs and switches with Tim, whose face brightens considerably.

He chats to Dick quietly about things in Blüdhaven, Bruce resuming his conversation with Alfred and Tim. The girls talk about school, Damian bringing up the art show he's participating in next week. The food is as good as he remembers, roast paired off with potatoes and countless salads, sauces and side dishes. Unfortunately there's no alcohol but he eats enough for two.

As the food is cleared away and multiple praises are directed Alfred's way for the meal, they drag Jason to another room. He grins when Steph pulls out the alcohol.

Damian and Tim groan out loud and Kate shoves them. "Don't worry, I'm sure there's juice in the fridge", she teases. Damian scowls at her.

Alfred informs them that he'll be in the kitchen preparing dessert and he leaves promptly, Damian following him to the fridge.

Bruce raises an eyebrow at his daughter. "We do have better drinks."

Steph shrugs. "I'm convinced there's a difference between getting drunk on fancy red wine and getting wasted on cheap beer that's past its expiry date."

Bruce relents, an incredulous look on his face. They sit in a circle, passing chilled bottles around.

Steph grins. "We're gonna play 'Most Likely'."

A mixture of gasps of delight mingle with complaints as the room descends into chaos again.

Steph raises a finger and whistles piercingly. "Ah ah ah, no buts. We're playing. It's simple, one person says a scenario and everyone else chooses a person in the group who they think is most likely to do it. The person with the most votes takes a drink."

Duke opens his bottle and takes a gulp, laughing at Dick' expression, Damian returning with cranberry juice for Tim and himself.

Cass laughs. "I'll start. Most likely to set the manor on fire?"

Bruce chokes at that one, eyes flashing dangerously. Jason grins. The votes are casted here and there but when he counts most of them are on Kate.

The woman in question smirks and gives a mock bow as she takes a swig of her beer.

"Can't say that I disagree."

That makes a bunch of them nod and laugh out loud. Kate swallows and starts the next question. "Most likely to get punched in the face by a stranger?"

Jason can count six other hands pointing at Dick, including his own.

The five others are pointed in his directions, but like Kate's answer earlier he can't really argue. He's gotten punched by tons of strangers, usually people undercover for Roman Sionis or other drug dealers he's managed to piss off. He takes a mouthful of beer, smiling from the burn.

"What are you talking about?" Dick complains. "I'm a nice person!"

"Sure, but you're also oblivious as fuck-"

"Language." Bruce mutters.

"-and you can't catch a hint to save your life. I can name some of the girls and guys who've flirted with you and didn't get a reaction," Tim finishes.

Dick pouts dramatically and takes a drink. "Most likely to giveaway hints by accident while playing poker?"

That one causes an uproar and Jason can't really choose who gets this one. They're all pretty decent liars, they have to be in their line of work. He ends up picking Barbara, only because she's had trouble keeping Batgirl a secret from her dad.

He's not the only one who brings that up and the votes are tied between her and Duke. The pair each take a drink.

Duke chews his lip as he thinks, brow furrowed in concentration. His face lights up when he figures out what to say.

"Most likely to use their kids as an excuse to get out of commitments?"

Simultaneously, everyone points at Bruce, who looks guilty and amused at the same time.

"How many times did you tell Wayne Enterprises I was sick as a kid to leave a meeting early, B?" Dick asks with a raised eyebrow.

Bruce smirks. "Not nearly enough times, those meetings give me migraines."

He unscrews the cap and takes a long swallow, his kids cheering. He shoots Steph a look. "You prefer this to red wine?"

Steph grins and nods, Cass and Barbara agreeing along with her.

Kate claps him on the back. "That's more like it!"

Bruce smiles and proceeds with the game. "Most likely to kill someone out of spite."

Jason counts two fingers pointing in his direction, one at Tim while the rest point to Damian.

The youngest Wayne scowls, raising his glass and taking a grudging sip of his juice, eyeing Dick's bottle wistfully. Dick gets the memo and pulls his beer away from his younger brother, tightening his hold just in case.

The game continues for the next hour, all of them getting progressively more drunk as the sun sets. Tim's declared to be the 'one who's most likely to be a criminal mastermind', Bab's 'most likely to run for president'. Alfred steps in just in time to win 'most likely to manage to survive while being stranded on an island'.

Overall, Jason is happy and sleepy and wasted.

The cake is brought out, cheers ringing out as plates and forks are passed around. The cake is shoved in his hands, and he takes a moment to blink with surprise.

"You made a cake in the shape of my helmet?"

It's really the only possible explanation, the cake is absolutely drenched in red frosting. It's in the shape of an oval, frosted white slits substituting for where his eyes would be. It's bigger than his actual helmet, and Jason turns it around to inspect it from all angles. A single candle glows brightly on top.

He stares at them. Dick and Alfred are squeezing his shoulder supportingly, Tim and Duke flashing him grins. Kate looks nostalgic as she hands him a knife, Damian's face carefree. Barbara starts to sing happy birthday softly, Steph joining in while Cass gives him a hug.

"Happy birthday chum," Bruce whispers, eyes bright as they reflect the flames. He smiles in response and blows out his candle.

Tim nudges him. "What did you wish for?"

To stay here forever.

Jason snorts. "I wished that one of those birthday presents you all suck at hiding contains a new gun."

Dick laughs at his response and Alfred smiles. Cass gives him a comforting look however, and not for the first time Jason's taken aback at how well she can read him.

It doesn't take long for everyone to settle down with a piece of cake. Jason takes his first bite and sees stars. It's just moist enough and the icing melts perfectly on his tongue. He gives Alfred an appreciative nod.

As the plates are returned to the kitchen they all find themselves in front of the TV, arguing on which movie to watch.

"For the last fucking time Dickface, no one wants to watch Dumbo because it makes you cry every single time his mom gets taken away!" Jason retorts.

Tim opens his mouth hopefully.

Damian cuts him off before he can even speak. "The same goes for you, asshole. No more Lion King fiascos."

Tim shoves Damian and he stumbles, both of them tackling each other to the ground. Kate claps slowly while Bruce breaks it up.

Jason takes the opportunity and steals the remote, grinning with triumph.

"It doesn't matter what you losers want, it's my birthday so I'm picking." There's a chorus of groans and Jason's smile widens. He scrolls through the Netflix suggestions and finally decides on Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

Steph yells with excitement and throws a pillow at Duke who groans, Cass's features morphing into one of confusion.

Barbara shrugs. "It's a classic."

Jason whoops as the movie starts, all of them fighting for popcorn and soda. Halfway through the film the mood gets increasingly more relaxed. Dick’s head is on his shoulder, Damian’s fighting for more leg room with Tim on his other side. The girls are spread out on the floor, Cass’s head in Steph’s lap, Babs sitting comfortably in her wheelchair beside the couch. Duke is falling asleep on Bruce, who Jason realizes is already asleep, snoring lightly into the cushions. Kate’s perched on the edge of the sofa’s armrest, watching the movie with interest. The only person who still looks dignified is Alfred, lounging in a chair he’s pulled up.

The movie marathon continues with Steph’s suggestion, Mean Girls, and they’re halfway through King Kong when they finally shut off the TV. Alfred wakes Duke and Bruce, Cass and Tim pulling Jason through the room for presents.

The pile of presents is larger then he would have guessed, boxes covered in shiny wrapping paper and small parcels. Everyone scrambles to sit around Jason, pushing their gifts forwards. He doesn’t know if he should be amused or terrified at the looks of eagerness around the room.

Kate gives him her present first, grinning slyly at her cousin. Bruce frowns, knowing he’s not going to appreciate what’s in the package. Jason tears the wrapping paper and lovingly pulls out one of the knives from its sheath.

He holds it out and tests the balance. “Well these’ll be useful.”

Steph hands him his present next, the weird object decked out in black wrapping paper with comic style font all over it. He squeezes it and scowls immediately. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

Steph shakes her head, eyes bright with mischief. The plushy Jason’s holding is a frog that looks like it’s seen better days, a dirty brown color that may have originally been green. One of the buttons used for eyes has popped off and he's pretty sure the hole at the bottom has been leaking stuffing for years.

He holds it up to face her and she smirks. The others are laughing as well. "What the hell is this?"

"Your birthday gift!", she sings. "Found him at a thrift store last week and I couldn't just leave the poor guy there, his eyes are so full of love, you know?"

"You mean eye, singular,” he points out.

"So he's a cyclops, why does it matter? Turn it around."

He does, biting back the urge to start laughing uncontrollably. The front of the sorry looking toad indicates that his name is Jason. He groans out loud when he sees the tell-tale smear of sharpie under the frog's name.

Jason Toad.

Dick throws his head back and laughs, while Babs gives Steph a high five.

"Yeah, yeah, very funny. Now shut up or I'll leave him here." He abandons the plushy and grabs the nearest gift instead.

The package is soft and he crinkles the wrapping paper as it tears. His breath catches when he finally sees his present in its full glory.

"Whoever brought me this is automatically my favorite sibling." his gaze slides over to Damian and Tim and reconsiders. "Unless it's Replacement or Demon Spawn, they can be promoted to third."

Tim rolls his eyes and Damian shoots him a disinterested stare.

"Be nice Master Jason", Alfred chides lightly.

Duke puts a hand on his shoulder. "Guess I win then."

Jason grins at the other man. "Thanks dude, way better choice then the toad."

He wastes no time pulling on the soft leather jacket, stretching his shoulders out comfortably and digging his hands into the pockets.

Tim's present turns out to be a key-chain with a mini chainsaw attached, because "Bruce wouldn't let me buy you a real chainsaw."

All of his other gifts are just as good, Alfred gives him Bluetooth headphones, a brand new copy of Life of Pi from Dick plus boots and eyeliner from both Barbara and Cass respectively.

Damian's present is one of the last and when he pulls apart the wrapping paper he’s left with a thin rectangular box. He stares at his younger brother.

“If this is jewelry it better be nice.”

Damian shakes his head, a small smile forming on his lips. “Better than jewelry.”

The gift turns out to be bullets, all of different sizes and shapes. They’re organized carefully, each with a label attached underneath.

Jason studied one that’s sleek and silver, little slits in the sides. The little lettering in the case lets him know that this one is filled with gas. He grins.

“Are these personalized?”

Damian nods. “Each and every one, tailored to your favorite gun. I modified the version father uses for his Batarangs and transferred it to work with bullets.” He shrugs. “I figured they were more your style.”

Jason stares at him, silent for a beat before turning back to the weapon. “Fine, I guess you can be my fourth favorite sibling.”

Tim huffs. “I helped him with the tech.”

Damian elbows him smugly.

He almost doesn't register Bruce standing in the back until the chatter dies out. His adopted dad looks like a kicked puppy and Jason feels an unexpected fondness shoot through his heart.

"You have something for me Bruce?"

Suddenly something is roughly being shoved into his hands and he stares at the thin object for a second. The room goes silent, the entire group fixated on Jason and Bruce.

The slips of paper are familiar and he swears he's held them before. He turns them over to read the minuscule writing.

Gotham City Knights vs Gotham Giants

Featured in Gotham City Stadium

Mon Aug 31 2020 7:30 PM

“You got me baseball tickets?”

Bruce clears his throat and presses on, looking uncomfortable. “You used to love going as a kid, and I brought two so you could take someone with you if you wanted.”

Jason’s voice catches and he swallows around the lump in his throat. “Sure, are you free Monday?”

Bruce’s “Yes” sounds more like a croak but it’s there, an open invitation to spend some time together. It’s not an apology but it’s a start, and he’ll take it. Jason’s heart swells.

After that they all goad him into sleeping over, an offer he would have declined if not for Alfred’s stern glances. They decide to grab some pillows and blankets and settle on the floor, everyone comfortable and sleepy.

Well, if anything, it’s not the worst birthday he’s ever had.

#jtbdayweek #Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #kate kane #clark kent #Alfred Pennyworth #bruce wayne #Duke Thomas #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #Stephanie Brown #Happy Birthday Jason!

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xoexoxhoe · 5 years

Text

Come Over (Part 4)

A/N: The story continues! Just a 💥warning💥guys- This part of our story can be really sensitive to some people as it talks about some pretty serious stuff involving pregnancy. Please know that I am in no way trying to offend anyone! We purely write this for the sake of story/character development, and we hope you guys enjoy it regardless. Happy reading! (A/N below for more information and lots of love)

Relationships are a two way street; Be careful of road blocks 🍃

Mingi (Ateez) & Y/N

💥Warning: Sensitive topic on pregnancy issues 💥

Life had been simple as of late, and you had no objections. You and Mingi had been stronger than ever for the past three years jetting around the world, meeting new friends at the university publishing company you both work for, and also writing short novels here and there for your own pleasure. But this year, it was different, and you could feel it. Mingi hadn’t been home lately, always staying late at the office to complete tasks he picked up and allowed others to drop on him. Occasionally you’d stay, helping him edit papers and finalize pieces for the local newspapers, but for the past two months you were more tired than anything else. Each day Mingi would have to cook dinner because standing at the kitchen stove for long periods of time made you weak and unable to be coherent for the rest of the night. Mingi always told you that you should go to the doctors office, but of course, being the stubborn girl you are, you never did.

“Baby, I’m so sorry, my pain is too bad today.” You laid in bed as he walked through the door from work, “I made you kimchi stew and picked up fried chicken on my home today, I hope it’s enough.”

Mingi leaned against the door frame of your bedroom, “Y/N, don’t worry. I could’ve made it myself.”

You waved a hand at him, “Baby, no offense here, but you don’t make kimchi stew very well and you know it.”

“Well, there ya go! The truth is out. I shall stick to writing and editing college papers, shamelessly getting shaded by my girlfriend about not being able to cook.” He made his way into the kitchen, still ranting about your coy behavior.

“Hey! I can still hear you, Song Mingi! You better watch your tone.” You laughed in bed, adjusting the cooling pad you slapped onto your forehead.

Before you knew it, Mingi was back in the room with a tray of bowls containing rice, stew, and vegetables. He placed the tray down on your nightstand and waved his hand, signaling you to lean forward from your position so he could crawl behind you. He wrapped one leg around your waist and placed the other alongside your hip. Mingi leaned over to the tray, handing you a spoon, a bowl of rice, and a bowl of kimchi stew. “You need to eat, baby. You don’t look good.”

You leaned into him, closing your eyes, “I made an appointment for tomorrow. I feel like I have anemia or something.”

He began to scarf down his food, talking with his cheeks slightly full, “Good idea, babe. I’m worried- need me to take off of work with you? I can tag along.”

You pat his leg, “Thank you, but I think I better go on my own. One of us needs to make an income in this house.”

Mingi planted a kiss on your cheek, “Well call me if you need me, okay?”

The next morning, you walked with Mingi to the subway station, holding his hand and laughing about the Netflix original you both watched the night before. You kissed him goodbye as you got off two stops before him, giggling as you watched him wink at you while the train slowly made its way into the dark tunnel ahead. The doctor's office you always went to took you in quickly, each nurse making you feel the most comfortable that you’ve ever been in a while during these kinds of visits.

Dr. Ko walked in, smiling as she bowed, “Good morning, beautiful! How have you been?”

“So great, thank you so much! How are you?”

She tilted her head back and forth, “Getting old, but who am I to judge, right?”

You bowed your head, “Dr. Ko, you don’t look a day over 30.” Which was completely true. This lady had the skincare routine of a Kardashian and the looks of Hyolyn if she were to be in her prime 50’s. You always told Dr. Ko this, only to find her laughing and shaking her head, placing gloves on her hand as she assessed you.

“So, Y/N, what happened, my dear? What brings you in today?”

“I’ve been feeling extremely weak for the past two months, and I don’t know why, Dr. Ko. I’ve been eating well, Mingi has been cooking for me. But every time I stand for too long, it feels as if I’m going to pass out.”

Dr. Ko narrowed her eyes quizzically, “Have you been on birth control, Y/N?”

Your eyebrows knit, “Um- Yeah, I have been, why?”

“Would you mind if we take a pregnancy test? I want to rule it out before we proceed with anything.”

You shook your head in complete agreement, “Of course! Do what you gotta do, Doc.”

After an agonizing fifteen minutes, Dr. Ko came into the room, “Miss Y/L/N, we have a lot of talking to do about becoming a mother.”

Your eyes widened, your heart rate increased, and you could feel your stomach churning with excitement and nervousness. “Excuse me?”

Dr. Ko dragged out an ultrasound machine, “I don’t wanna give you false hope, but your pregnancy test came out positive. I just want to confirm it through a fetal heart rate check, if that’s alright?”

You nodded your head, still unable to comprehend what the hell was actually happening. The room was spinning once Dr. Ko spread the ultrasound lubricant over your flat stomach to which you thought would not be housing any children anytime soon, but here you are. Dr. Ko began to circle the cold jelly over the surface of your abdomen, trying her hardest to locate the fetus. She eventually found it, taking a picture and showing it to you, but now was time for the true test. Your mind raced with anticipation.

“I’m going to turn on the doppler,” Dr. Ko flicked something and awaited the beating heart of a baby to become present, but nothing came on. She continued to go around your stomach, attempting to find a heartbeat somewhere- anywhere. Your heart sank, you felt it in your soul. Just as one happy thing was beginning, it was soon coming to an end. “It’s still a little early, my dear. Maybe we can schedule an appointment for next week and we can reassess?”

You just stared blankly at the ultrasound monitor, seeing the bean sized fetus on the screen. Tears began to stream down your face and Dr. Ko took you into her arms, “My dear, do not cry. We will figure this out.”

The subway ride home was agonizing, and you couldn’t help but to think of the image of your unborn child on that screen. You reached home and slid down against your bed, hitting the carpet in defeat. You reached into your purse, calling Mingi through tears, “Baby I-”

“I’m on my way home now, Y/N. Don’t worry.” He hung up, and you brought your knees to your chest, awaiting his return. As soon as he flew through the door, you started to bawl even harder. He grabbed your shoulders, “Y/N, what happened? Who hurt you? Did someone say something on the subway?”

You shook your head, handing him an envelope. He tore it open and dropped the ultrasonography photos after reading Dr. Ko’s note of ‘Undetectable Fetal Heart Beat’ on the back of them. He dropped to his knees next to you, holding your hands in his, bringing them to his lips and kissing them with all his might, “Baby, maybe it’s too early, okay? Let’s figure this out next week.”

You agreed, “That’s what the doctor said… will you come with me?”

“Of course. Always.” He hugged you again, bringing you up into bed and tucking you in. You woke up abruptly at around 1:00 am, rushing into the bathroom and throwing up into the toilet. You felt as if your stomach was ripping itself apart. You felt a warm sensation alongside your thighs and you reached a hand between them, bringing it up to your face only to see clots and a dark streak of blood coursing down onto your tile floor. You screamed, immediately, hearing Mingi jump out of bed running into the bathroom in a matter of seconds. He picked you up, calling an ambulance, not letting go of you until you both were at the hospital getting evaluated by a doctor. Two hours had passed and a series of blood tests, labs, and other OBGYN consultations occurred before the head doctor of the ER came in to speak with you and Mingi. He sat at the edge of your bed, and you already knew what words would come next.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Y/L/N, but you just had a miscarriage. You were unable to keep the pregnancy. Now, we don’t know exactly why, but please remember that we here at the hospital will do anything we can to help you grieve through this troubling time.” He pat your leg and shook Mingi’s hand, walking out of your room somber and disappointed with himself.

All you could do was cry in your lovers arms, blaming yourself for whatever had happened, and never looking at your life the same.

💥I know this was a really heavy chapter, fellow readers. Just wanted to extend a loving hand that if you or a loved one have ever experienced this, you are not alone, and we stand with you! My messages are always open if you ever need to talk! Thank you so much for your constant support, and I promise to do the same for you all!💥

Down to read more? Links below for the continuation of the series!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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thedeviltohisangel · 5 years

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Through My Heart//Prologue

Princess Esme arrives in a new land to meet Prince Michael, her betrothed. Little does she know he has already pledged his heart to the best knight in the realm, Sir Duncan. In the village, the baker’s son Jim longs for love.

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The carriage bounced slightly as it rolled over the rocky terrain en route to their final destination. Princess Esme moved the velvet curtains that blocked her view as they began to move closer. This would one day be her land to rule over. She was a stranger to them in every way. They were strangers to her in every way. It was no way to start a lifelong rule but it was the way things had to be.

“I’ve been told that Prince Michael will be there to welcome you when we arrive.” Esme had heard from her handmaidens that it was rare for the man in a marriage to make himself available to his future wife. She had expected to see the Prince in official capacities only until their wedding night and then only when it was the right time for them to produce their heir and spares.

“I have heard he is very handsome. I cannot wait to meet him,” she whispered back as the village began to come into their view. The smell of the baker’s residence reached through the carriage and enveloped her in a heavenly aroma. “At least the village has a talented baker.”

----

Jim, the baker’s son, watched from the window of his family cottage as horses and carriages and soldiers marched by.

“The new Princess is here today!” his sister gasped as she joined him by the window. “I wonder what she’ll be like. We hardly see the King and his family but I wonder if she will be put on display for the people.” Jim scoffed.

“Medina, they do not care about people like us. The sooner you realize that we must fend for ourselves and rely on no one, the sooner you will be happy.” His sister groaned at his words as he went back to kneading the loaf he had been working on before the interruption.

“I hope one day a sweet village girl knocks you off your feet and makes you smile. The world is so much nicer to look at when you are in love.”

“What do you know about being in love?” Jim thought the idea of love was nice. That it was nice to dream at night about a soft girl welcoming him home and kissing his cheek and giving him little cherubs. But Jim knew that he had to marry and reproduce in order to stay alive. The life of a baker was not overly prosperous. He would need children to keep the business going. He couldn’t marry for love. No matter how badly he might want to one day.

----

Duncan watched as the staff of the household bustled about in preparation for the arrival of the Princess. As the head of all the Knights of the realm, it was his job to make sure the castle and the premises were secure for her and the royal family. Occasions such as this were prime moments for those who wished to attack. His devotion to Prince Michael and his family was out of pure loyalty. He had fought on their behalf for his entire adult life.

Duncan had gotten involved in a tavern fight when he was younger. His father was the innkeeper and when two patrons had decided to use their fists in the middle of the dining room, young Duncan had the courage to step in and break it apart. His natural instinct to defend and his natural ability to do so had spread throughout the village until it had reached the ears of the King. The King then decided to permit the boy to train with the other knights of the realm. Duncan excelled in training to become the best Knight in the history of the kingdom, winning the annual tournament ever since and undefeated in duels.

He had also managed to find a close friend in Prince Michael. Naturally, having a boy his age around the castle often made Michael happy when he was younger. When Duncan wasn’t training or Michael wasn’t in a tutoring session, they found each other. They played games and ran races and even snuck out into the village a few times. Duncan showed Michael a version of the land he hadn’t seen before. He opened his eyes to a whole new world. A simpler one. A softer one. Michael’s time with Duncan showed him what it was like to be loved. Michael’s parents were only intent on getting him ready to be King one day. His feelings didn’t matter. His heart didn’t matter. All that mattered was inside his head.

Duncan was nervous that the arrival of the Princess was going to jeopardize everything him and Michael had between them. Their relationship of love and exploration could be put at risk by this new arrival. Would Michael still have time for him? Would he fall in love with the Princess and push aside his love for Duncan? He thinks the arrival of the Princess meant he was destined for heartbreak.

----

Michael stood dutifully at the top of the steps to the castle in his most formal of uniforms. His blonde curls framed his golden crown perfectly and matched the clasp of the cloak that was elegantly draped over his shoulders. The outside of his body was stoic and in complete contrast to the rolling tides of nerves inside of him. He had known that one day his father would require him to marry. Would find him a bride somewhere in a faraway land for the purpose of money or armies and continuation of bloodline. But it wasn’t about love. Michael had never thought marrying for love was important. Had never even thought finding love was important. That was until he had learned what it meant with Duncan, in the late hours by the fire in his room. He had been doing so well hiding his feelings for the night but now, now he needed to push them down even further. What kind of life was he destined to lead?

“Stand up straighter. That’s her coming now.” Michael did as his father instructed, watching as the King put on a smile for the show of their guests. The Prince felt a poke in his back and turned to see his advisor, Lord Caleb, urging him down the steps to greet the Princess. Michael swallowed and then flowed down the steps where her horsemaster was opening the door.

“It is honor to meet you, Princess Esme.” He bent at the hip gracefully and kissed the hand that she offered to him.

“The honor is all mine, your highness. I have heard wonderful things about you and your people and I cannot wait to see them all firsthand.” Michael thought she was pleasant looking enough, the slight flush to her cheeks suiting her well.

“Shall we escape the cold?” Tenderly, he held her hand in his and began to lead her back towards the castle where the rest of the royal family was waiting. His father let him walk ahead of him with the Princess by his side, Michael noting the importance of the King letting his son take the lead. Now that he was betrothed, he was expected to be a man. To fully fill the shoes of the role that was waiting for him. King.

----

Later that night, Esme sat alone in the room that had been provided for her. She was not to share a bed with Prince Michael until their wedding night and after that they would sleep separately unless the physician deemed it was the window of fertility. The Princess had gotten used to being alone but it felt colder in this new environment. People were bustling around her, getting rid of the bath water and tending to the fire and making sure her dress was neatly pressed for tomorrow, but Esme felt empty. She did not wish to live this loveless life. She had always known it was waiting for her but being confronted with it...it made her heart ache. The darkness surrounded her as she lay in bed. It was quiet. Still. Cold. She closed her eyes in the name of getting some sleep, tears rolling down her face as the dreams never came.

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#michael langdon #duncan shepherd #jim mason #ahs #ahs apocalypse #american horror story #american horror story apocalypse #house of cards #the tribes of palos verdes #tribes of palos verdes

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thatbluegibson · 5 years

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CH 102

Liz flopped into the plastic seat next to Dave and held up their line ticket, making him snort a laugh. "You waited for that number," he accused.

"I let four people go ahead of us," she grinned. "Further proof that no one should ever let people like us sign legal documents unsupervised."

Dave put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned her head against him, closing her eyes against the harsh fluorescent lighting while an Oasis song played faintly around them and the other people waiting in the county clerk's office. They sat in silence for a while when Liz abruptly rammed her elbow into Dave's ribs.

"Ow! Goddamnit, Liz!"

"I just remembered you almost killed me on the bike yesterday," she said casually.

Dave rubbed at his sore side and glared at her. "That was the only way I could get you to pull over," he protested. "And I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think you're an excellent rider, I knew you'd stay on the shiny side."

She looked at him for a beat before opening her mouth to reply, but a window opened up and their number was called.

"Sixty-nine!"

"Worth it!" Liz giggled and hopped up.

She held Dave's hand as they walked to the window and smiled kindly at the small woman behind the glass partition. She looked a little like Anne Ramsey, which made Liz homesick for Oregon and her worn Goonies DVD, and wore a name tag announcing her name was Bernadette.

"Hi, Bernadette-," Liz started, but the woman roughly interrupted her by speaking into the metal microphone attached to her desk, suspiciously eyeing her and Dave's joined hands.

"It's Bernie. Annulment or divorce?" her voice wafted through the glass as well as projected through a small speaker to their left, giving her a strange delay effect.

"Uh... Annulment, please."

"Reason?"

"Icelandic moonshine?" Liz shrugged and Dave looked down at his shoes to avoid laughing while Bernie glared over her bifocals at him.

"Lack of understanding to consent," she said firmly, sucking all the levity out of their immediate area and reaching for a stack of papers beside her.

"Whoa, wait," Liz dropped Dave's hand and put her face close to the small holes drilled into the glass so Bernie could hear her clearly. It didn't matter what the phrase 'lack of understanding to consent' meant in reality, Liz knew that it once the legal notifications hit the media the word consent would be twisted so far beyond its original meaning that Dave would ultimately end up branded as a predator. It would hit the tabloids the very second it became public record, which could be in a month, in a day or in a couple hours depending on how well oiled the Vegas annulment machine was, and their age difference would be front and center, making a complete mockery of their relationship. They didn't have time to get back to LA to prep statements, contact managers, assemble lawyers... there just wasn't time.

Bernie sighed deeply, "Look, if you're drunk, you can't consent. Legally, the place shouldn't have married you in the first place."

"What are the other options? Are there other options?" Liz felt herself getting desperate. The minor inconvenience of walking three blocks off the Vegas Strip to get an annulment was fine, dealing with the media once they announced that her and Dave had a drunken 'fake' Vegas wedding was okay, but she wasn't sure he could recover the 'Nicest Guy in Rock' status if it seemed he coerced his much younger girlfriend into marriage and she wasn't about to be the cause of that.

"Is this Thomas Jacob Black person ordained with the state of Nevada?"

Liz looked back hopefully at Dave, who just nodded at her with an apologetic smile.

"Then all you've got-," Bernie slammed her elbow on the desk and held up her fingers, ticking them off as she spoke, "Lack of understanding to consent; also known as the inability to monitor your own alcohol intake; underage, fraud, insanity, previous marriage-"

"That! We have those!" Liz glanced back at Dave again.

Bernie sat back in her government-issued ergonomic chair, "If you aren't already divorced, that would be bigamy and you'd both be arrested."

"No... no, no," Liz laughed nervously as her eyes darted to the bored looking state security guard in the corner. "Just a couple of previous divorcees looking for an annulment. Can we translate drunken stupor to insanity?"

"Is he impotent?" Bernie dropped her eyes to Dave's belt buckle and Liz awkwardly cleared her throat.

"I'm so sorry, Bernie. I think I misheard you."

Bernie readjusted the metal microphone causing a loud feedback squeal to echo around them and a silence fell over the crowded room when she yelled into the microphone, "Did you two have sex after signing the marriage certificate? Did you consummate your marriage?"

Liz leaned her elbows against the small counter in front of her and covered her face in her hands while Dave spoke loudly, looking around the room to make sure everyone that was staring could hear him, "Yes! More than once! Several times!"

"Okay then," Bernie went on, her voice quiet again, "your only option for an annulment is lack of understanding to consent." She pulled the paperwork from a folder next to her and slid it and a pen through the gap under the window. "Come back to me when you've finished filling this out."

They sat together on a wooden bench in the hallway and stared at the wall ahead of them. The annulment paperwork lay in the space between them, still unread and unsigned after almost a half hour. Nothing had been said since they left Bernie's window and Dave was desperate to know what Liz was thinking. Their conversation on the way to the clerk's office had been brief and light, assuring one another that this didn't change anything, it was just a minor inconvenience in the big picture that was their life together and someday soon they would laugh about it. Though to him, it still stung to know that she didn't want to be married... not right away at least.

He jumped when Liz suddenly snatched up the paperwork and began to read it over, dragging the pen tip across the words. Her decision obviously made, he slumped forward afraid and angry that he might cry at any moment. He let out a shaky breath as she began to sign and watched her out of the corner of his eye. He had seen her sign autographs before and always thought they looked a little like an EKG readout; a stylized E followed by what might be interpreted as a C with some sharp lines in between, but this legal signature was like something straight off the Constitution. Maybe she had taken a calligraphy course, maybe she had just read too many old English novels, but she was signing with the steady hand of an artist. His eyes drifted to her shoe when she began to nervously bounce her leg, shaking the bench they were on and realized her pen had stopped midway through her middle name. With his heart in his throat, he jumped again when she slammed the paper and pen back down on the bench, yanked her phone from her pocket and began to pace the hallway they were in.

"Hey Soph, it's Liz... I'm okay, how are you?... Good. So, listen. I'm sorry to call on a Sunday, but I'm in Vegas and-..." she covered her eyes with her hand as she listened and squeaked out a hesitant, "Yes, I did... I'm sorry, Sophie. It just happened and honestly, it was going to happen soon anyways and I tried to avoid all of this by getting an annulment, but... Soph, I just can't and-... wait, do a what?... " Dave watched her grab the paperwork off the bench beside him and unceremoniously jam it into a tall silver trash can. "Okay well, we're headed back tomorrow morning so I'll let you know as soon as we..."

He didn't bother listening to the rest of the conversation, he just threw himself at her and sent them both into the wall, shoving the phone away from her face so he could kiss her.

"Last barbeque at the rental!" Taylor announced and slapped Dave on the back as he stood in front of the grill. "You gonna miss our mornings out here on the decks?"

Dave chuckled at that. "Am I gonna miss seeing your balls every morning when you do your weird naked yoga? Hell no. I'll still give you the finger when I get the mail, so it'll feel like nothing's changed."

Taylor smiled and took a sip of his beer. "It's not yoga, jackass. I'm just stretching."

"Whatever. I'm sure whoever ends up here after me would appreciate you putting on pants, though."

Taylor lightly swatted Dave's ribs with the back of his hand and leaned against the patio table. "Shane said that Violet finally came around on the whole wedding thing."

Dave shuddered a little at the memory of Violet storming off when he and Liz broke the news. The others were thrilled, especially Jack and Ophelia, but Violet's little outburst had definitely put a damper on Liz's mood. "Yeah, Liz took her out to lunch yesterday and they hashed it out. I think an afternoon off from school helped sweeten the deal, but we're cool again."

Taylor offered a quiet nod in response, then watched him fuss over the meat and veggies on the grill for a bit until he started getting antsy. "Al said Liz is all set for next week." It was his delicate way of bringing up the fact that things were starting to get real and Liz would hopefully be pregnant very soon.

"Oh, she's primed and ready to go," Dave muttered bitterly. The myriad of medications and injections she suffered through every night were one thing, but the fact that she was off limits until the transfer appointment made him crazy. They had just gotten married and all he wanted was fool around with his wife, but no. The most action he'd had in days involved sticking a needle in the side of Liz's ass to prep her body for Taylor's babies. Only five more days. "Thanks, by the way."

"Sorry, dude," he laughed. "I know you're newlyweds, but it's only for a few weeks."

Dave's spine snapped straight and he spun around to look at his best friend. "Wait, what?"

Taylor's beer bottle slipped from his lips as he frowned in confusion. "She didn't tell you she can't have sex for like three weeks after the transfer?"

Dave very carefully set down the metal tongs he was holding, followed by his beer. "Hawkins, I'm giving you a ten-second head start. I suggest you take it."

Taylor mimicked Dave's intense calm as he set his own beer down, then took off like a shot across the deck and down into the backyard with Dave close behind, yelling all the way.

"You can do other stuff!" Taylor yelped. "You said yourself that she's really good at-"

His voice was halted by Dave snatching him up by the back of the board shorts and launching him into the pool, then diving in right after to hold him under for a beat. They wrestled and fought in the water until Dave caught sight of Liz up on the deck watching them with amusement.

"What the hell are you two doing?"

Dave held Taylor under again, his entire body lurching about as his friend fought against him. "We can't have sex for three weeks? When the hell were you going to tell me?"

Liz waited for Dave to release Taylor, his blonde head popping up as he took a gasping breath and tried to swim away, but Dave wasn't quite done with him yet. He grabbed Taylor by the waist and yanked him backward, holding him tightly against his chest.

"Just as soon as we left the transfer appointment," she called down to them as Taylor repeatedly bucked against Dave. "But it looks like Taylor is taking care of things in my absence. Thanks, T! Oh and Dave, your mom is here."

Virginia slowly walked out onto the deck next to Liz and surveyed her son waist deep in the pool, fully dressed while holding Taylor in a very compromising position.

"Hi, Mom!" he yelled with a wave, only to receive a slow head shake in return.

"Liz, please..."

She didn't answer him, just dragged her suitcase behind her down the front steps.

"Baby, let's talk about this. Please."

Again, no answer. Her hair flipped over her shoulder as she threw her suitcase into the back of her truck and she shot him a glare.

"Baby, I love you. I'm so sorry," he stepped between her and the driver's side door hoping to stop her before she sped out of his life.

"Are you?" her green eyes were like fire, sparking with tears and anger at the same time. "Are you actually sorry?"

"Dave?" He watched as Liz's focus moved from him to the leggy blonde yelling from the front door. "Dave, let her go and come back to bed!"

The rest of his surroundings jolted into sharp focus. The burn of the hot concrete on his bare feet, the sheet gripped tightly around his waist, the sun on his back and his wild hair blowing in his face. He had done it again, ruined everything for a pretty face with a warm body that was eager and willing to spend a couple hours in bed before being shipped off with taxi money and a signed NDA. This was marriage number three down the fucking tubes because he couldn't or wouldn't keep his pants on.

"Dave..."

No.

"Dave, wake up."

Don't want to. I want to lay behind your truck and let you run me over.

He heard her heavy sigh, but only cracked one eye open when he felt her lips on his forehead. She was wheeling her suitcase out of their bedroom, fully dressed in jeans and her leather jacket and his eyes drifted to the clock on her side of the bed clicking over to 5:58 am.

Shit, she's leaving me.

He bolted upright and out of bed, running after her down the stairs. She stopped on the landing where he tripped on the last step, sending them both crashing into the wall behind her.

"Jesus, Dave!" she stared up at him wide-eyed as he held her face in his hands.

"Don't leave me," he gasped, desperately kissing her as hard as he could.

"I'm not-," she stopped to pry his hands from her aching jaw. "I'm not leaving you!"

He pulled back only a little, still not willing to let her go. "What?"

"I have to work today," she said quieter, realizing he had been having one of his vivid dreams. "Remember? I told you last night, it's the first day of principal photography."

"Yeah," he muttered, his heart still pounding from his dream. "Yeah, I remember."

"Okay," she whispered and craned her neck to kiss his forehead before pushing him off of her. "I'll see you at the house tonight."

He only nodded, shifting so that he was sitting on the landing next to a pile of moving boxes with his back against the wall. "Can you call me? Like if you get a break or something?"

She looked back when she made it to the lower level and flashed him a smile. "Sure. Try to get some more sleep, okay? I love you."

"Thank you so much for coming early," Dave said once he'd finished shaking the realtor's hand. Their appointment wasn't until 5, but Dave had asked if they could meet at 4:30 before Liz even left the film set.

"No problem at all," he smiled warmly and slid the large manila envelope across the counter. "Gate codes and keys are in here along with the closing documents. Just have her sign the pink highlighted areas and get them back to me by Friday. In the meantime, it's all yours."

They exchanged pleasantries and the realtor left, leaving Dave alone in the mostly empty house. He wandered around looking into each space, imagining what his life there would be like.

In the kitchen, he envisioned Liz singing happy birthday and carrying a cake full of candles for one of the kids; the two of them dancing slowly in the dark late at night when neither of them could sleep; her fumbling with the coffee maker half asleep at dawn during the mad rush to get the kids off to school.

He pressed his shoulder into the wooden arch that made up the dining room entrance and smiled at the enormous table he had custom made as a gift for Liz, imagining the loud and crazy holiday dinners with both of their extended families; simple weeknights eating with the kids, talking about school and homework; and just the two of them sharing a bottle of wine at the far end, quietly talking about their day.

Spinning around to the living room, now with a permanent grin and butterflies rising in his chest, he stood in the middle and pictured her napping on the couch with a dog; her standing on her toes on the top rung of a ladder to hang an ornament on their ridiculously tall Christmas tree while he nervously spotted her from below; her repeatedly tossing popcorn at his face as he tried to focus on a movie...

Skipping the formal living room and office by the front door, he took the steps up two at a time and ran his fingers along the walls wondering what photos she would hang on the landing.

Upstairs in each of the bedrooms, he could see the kids. Planets and stars hanging from the ceiling in Jack's room, trucks and construction vehicles littering the floor in Owen's, Beatles gig posters for the walls in Harper's, a mic and guitar set up in the corner of Violet's and the chaotic disaster that Phee's room always seemed to be.

But the master bedroom was his most favorite space in the entire house. It had french doors leading out to a little balcony just big enough for two chairs and a table, a bathroom with a huge soaking tub that Liz had climbed into fully dressed the first day they looked at the house and separate walk-in closets. Their bed was already assembled and positioned across from the french doors where Dave had insisted it be. He wanted to wake up every morning with the sun at the foot of their bed, where the red in her hair would glow against the white pillowcase.

He moved out to the balcony and was leaning on the railing, staring at the shop and thinking about her wrenching on a bike in there when a chime rang out from the lower level. From his spot, he could see the front door was deserted and looked around in confusion when Liz's truck cruised down the long drive and parked just beside his. Oh, right. The gate alarm.

Taking the steps two at a time again, he chuckled when she knocked. He yanked the door open, about to remind her that this was her house, but the sight of her in a grey fitted sheath dress and black heels ripped the words right from him.

"Hey," she smiled shyly from the other side of the door. "You wanna buy a box of cookies, mister?"

"Depends," he managed only after clearing his throat and took her hand to drag her inside. "What kind?"

"Oh, I've got lotsa kinds...," she mused, tossing her bag and keys on the kitchen counter before he pulled her out onto the deck. "Chocolate, peanut butter, those mint ones that everyone claims to love but are actually horrible, shortbr- oh."

She stopped at the sight of two teak chairs with deep red cushions set together on the wide part of the deck and a small table between them holding a bottle of champagne, glasses and a single flickering candle.

"Nice, David," she teased and let him pull her along, ignoring the second chair and choosing his lap to sit on instead.

"How was work?" he asked, reaching over to hand her a glass.

"Good," she thought as she sipped her champagne. "It was fun. JB can't wait to crash our first house party."

Dave chuckled at that and sat back as she leaned her head on his shoulder. He pressed his lips into her forehead and kept them there as he spoke, "Let's get that out of the way before we move the furniture in so he doesn't ruin anything."

She just smiled and closed her eyes, listening to the last of the birds sing before they retreated to their nests for the night.

"Oh shit," he muttered and shifted in the chair so he could reach into his pocket. "I almost forgot."

Liz grumbled at the movement, just wanting to sit in the quiet with him when he held her silver ring up in front of her, the same ring he had put on and then later tore off her finger back in Vegas.

"This is yours."

She didn't move at first, just felt the words rumble in his chest and stared at the band, thinking back on their silly little Vegas wedding until he twisted it just enough that the waning light caught the inscription inside. The engraving was in her Pops' shakey handwriting, done the night before his wedding to her grandmother in the mid-'50s.

Put it back on

"Dave?" she whispered, frozen against him. "Where did you get that?"

"Your dad gave it to me," he took her hand and eased it back on to her finger, then admired it for a moment. "Said I was the only man for the job."

She used her free hand to pull his face to hers and softly kissed him before dropping her head back to his shoulder. "He's right."

Neither of them were sure how much time had passed, but they sat together in an easy silence listening to the last of the birds and the breeze in the birch trees until the only light on the deck was from the little candle on the table beside them.

"Babe?"

Liz hummed her response, almost sound asleep on his shoulder.

"Do you feel like you're home?"

She picked her head up and looked back at the dark house, just the sight of it making her feel disoriented and out of place. It wasn't home yet. But then she turned back to him and slipped her left hand into his, their rings clicking against each other as she kissed him, then breathed against his lips, "Yep. I'm definitely home."

#ThatBlueGibson

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