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caligvlasaqvarivm · 2 months

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Murder, Love, and Destiny: An Eridan Ampora Character Study

Warnings for things from Homestuck, like discussions of child abuse, mental illness, murder, suicide, etc. etc.

Because there's a huge wall of text after this point, I'm going to summarize what I hope to convince you of in bullet point format, and then hope you'll actually read the rest of the text before arguing with me about it.

Eridan is the least casteist highblood, if you ignore all the slurs.

Those are his emotional support slurs.

Pale EriKar was not only canon, but set up to be endgame.

Eridan is incredibly plot-relevant, thematically relevant, and was definitely originally intended to be brought back to life, alongside the other dead trolls.

He's Sad.

The first thing we have to establish is what counts as "canon" for the purpose of this essay. I am only counting the original comic up to Game Over, after which there's a general consensus that Hussie kind of gave up on his original planned ending, and slapped together something that most people hate. So I am immediately disqualifying Pesterquest, supplementary material, fanworks deemed canon, the epilogues, and Homestuck^2.

Moreover, we are taking Hussie's commentaries with a grain of salt, for two reasons. The first reason is that I firmly believe - and will be arguing - that the original plan was to bring Eridan (and the other dead trolls) back; therefore, Hussie (who has a track record of playing coy with future plot twists) can't speak too fondly of him, lest he give it away. The second reason for de-emphasizing Hussie's words is that, post-retcon, Hussie isn't very well going to say that he had plans for a better ending, and then didn't execute on them; to save face, he has to act as though his trashing of several prior plot threads, including but not limited to Eridan, was the plan all along.

Therefore, this essay will not be putting too much emphasis on Word of God, and will instead be relying on textual evidence from the comic itself, of which there is plenty. So without further ado:

Eridan is a Consummate Murderer.

The reason I'm starting with this point is that, far more than any other, this truth lies at the core of his being. Eridan is formally introduced to us with a murder, and he's haunted by an overpowering genocide complex. He outright describes to Rose at one point that "killin is all i evver done practically," and uses "murder" as an expletive (ie "swweet stinkin murder"). With a conservative estimate of 5 kills per week for 4 sweeps (Vriska looks VERY young when she has to start killing, and Eridan was likely a similar age when he began), both Eridan and Vriska easily have bodycounts above 2000 - the real number is probably even higher.

At this point, many raise an objection that Eridan is only killing lusii, but I believe we need to count his kills as troll murders, for three reasons: first, a dead lusus results in the orphaned troll being culled; second, one has to assume he has had cases of trolls trying to defend their lusii, or coming after him for vengeance; and third - and most importantly - Eridan HIMSELF is thinking about the orphaned trolls.

Compare Feferi: Go Home:

That should keep her happy for a while. At least until she dies.

To Eridan: Go Home:

That should keep her happy for a while. And make a freshly orphaned troll somewhere very sad.

So Eridan, to a much greater extent than even Feferi, is thinking about the orphaned trolls he's leaving behind, and considers his own actions to be murder.

Now that we've established the facts regarding his murders - a rough bodycount, and the fact that, by his own admission, he barely had any hobbies outside of it - we can move on to the effect that it's had on him. It's not very good!

Vriska's manipul8tions and murders had to be done for her own sake - if she ever stopped, she died. Therefore, much of Vriska's personality revolves around justifying her own actions so she doesn't have to reckon with her softer feelings, like guilt or kindness - which she expresses would be viewed as scandalous by others of her caste.

But if Eridan ever stops feeding Gl'bgolyb, everybody dies. The stakes he has riding on his shoulders are, at all times, the fate of all trolls, including all his friends. Given Dualscar's title was "Orphaner," it's implied that killing lusii for Gl'bgolyb has always been a violet blood's duty, and is seen as such by the others, which is why nobody expresses gratitude for his hard work even a single time.

Which brings us to our next point:

Eridan is Crushed by Anxiety.

If Eridan stops killing lusii, everybody - especially his friends, but everybody else, too - dies.

If Eridan ever shows guilt or kindness, he'll be considered "weak" by the standards of highbloods - he shares this with Vriska.

Eridan is expected, by aristocratic tradition, to take on the mantle of his ancestor Dualscar and finish his work. Dualscar met a comedically cringefail end, so this is a massive undertaking.

Before finding out that god tiering is an option - so, for nearly his entire life - Eridan has had to live with the expectation that he will outlive all of his friends. The lowbloods from culling or dying on the battlefield, the highbloods from old age, and Feferi from being killed by the Empress when she gets old enough.

(This is reflected in who he talks to the most - Feferi, who's the only one with a natural lifespan longer than his, Vriska, who's a highblood, Kanaya, who's practically guaranteed to survive into adulthood, and Karkat, whose anonblood allows Eridan to give him the benefit of the doubt.)

Also if he can't land his concupiscent quadrants he'll die from that too, but that seems pretty secondary to the rest of his concerns.

He can't even make friends with the other highbloods, because sea dwellers are expected to hate and antagonize them.

He had a free ticket into adulthood, but would almost certainly be expected to join the army and serve as a commander. That is to say, his fate of performing the role of a vicious, murderous sea dweller seems dreadfully inevitable to him.

NO WONDER he can't stop having emotional breakdowns. NO WONDER his chatlogs swing wildly from relentless self-aggrandizement to traumadumping. NO WONDER he's obsessed with murder and death and genocide.

Doc Scratch calls him a "vengeful boy on the path of nihilism," and it's not hard to see why: Eridan's entire life has been about living up to the role imposed on him by society, sacrificing his own time and sanity for everyone else, which he "nevver got any appreciation for anywway." And all he had to look forward to was more of the same, all his friends dropping dead one by one before him. For Eridan, there has never been any hope.

SGRUB could have been a way out for him, but a combination of his own terrible choices, spurred on by his anxieties, and his teammates' unwillingness to knock some sense into him, meant that he only wound up mired even deeper in his hopelessness.

We all know about how Eridan wouldn't stop killing the angels on his planet, provoking their aggression and turning it into a ball of death. How he was definitely not supposed to be doing this, and how his stubborn insistence on it led to his further ostracization from the rest of the group. The thing is, when we look at his angel-murders from the point of view that Eridan's entire life has been about murdering things or else Something Bad™ happens, it actually starts to become... kind of sad.

KARKAT: BETWEEN A TRIGGERHAPPY PRINCE WITH A GOD WEAPON BLASTING ANYTHING THAT TWITCHED AND A MILLION CRAZED ANGELS HE DELIBERATELY ENRAGED, IT WASN'T WHAT I'D CALL AN IDEAL SOCIAL HUB. KARKAT: IF YOU WERE LONELY WHY DIDN'T YOU VENTURE OUT MORE OFTEN? ERIDAN: wwell i wwoulda but nobody else wwas vvolunteerin to pick up the slack on angel killin duties

Killing the angels is something he feels like his has to do, because his entire life has been about killing things he doesn't want to kill. He's unable to break out of that mindset on his own, and his unpleasant personality has scared off anyone who might want to help. No one on the team tries to understand his thought process on a deeper level, not even Karkat, who just tells him it was an idiotic thing to do without addressing his underlying anxieties at all. Indeed, "nobody understands."

And this is really the root of why I think so many people get the wrong read on Eridan - Eridan is constantly contradicting himself, constantly denying his own feelings, constantly pushing an image that he doesn't actually believe in, and constantly insisting that he's fine with all the horrible shit in his life - that he likes it, even. After all, he can't admit to his guilt for his murders, or how much he doesn't want to watch his friends die, or how scared he is about the future - that'd be weakness!

CC: I can't look after you anymore. CA: I DIDNT EVER NEED ANYONE TO LOOK AFTER ME CA: i was totally fuckin fine my ambitions were noble

You see his contradictory nature with his stated love of history, which he only ever offhandedly mentions - because he's not actually that interested in history, it's just something that's expected of someone of his station. And you see it with his wavy accent, which he himself calls "weird" and drops when he's trying to be emotionally sincere. And you see it with his dumbass outfit, which is very clearly an imitation of Dualscar (with the only exception being the wizard-ass scarf, because wizards are his actual interest. I don't believe he likes fashion. I genuinely believe - and Eridan himself says so - that he basically has no hobbies outside of murder).

Even being proud to be a sea dweller is pretty much an outright lie:

CC: You can't )(ave t)(e sort of affinity for "our kind" t)(at you profess if you've only spent, w)(at... CC: A few days underwater, maybe? IN YOUR W)(OL-E LIF-E!

One that he tells because he's SCARED OF THE OCEAN. Because he knows what lives in the ocean, because he's been feeding it his entire life. I see a lot of people who give Eridan an interest in marine life, and I'm telling you, that's just got no basis in canon. He's fucking TERRIFIED of the sea.

And for that matter, land dweller genocide. Eridan doesn't want to do it. Both Feferi AND his internal narration call him out for not actually wanting to do it. He outright states he wouldn't kill his friends.

CA: wwell CA: im not goin to vvery wwell kill you am i that wwould be fuckin unconscionable CA: wwhat kind of friend wwould i be

But he feels like he HAS to want it, HAS to believe in it, HAS to be talking about it constantly, because that's what's expected from him as a sea dweller, and a sea dweller is ALL that he will get to be. The mutation that puts a violet streak in his hair is damning. It's a fate he feels like he can't escape. Which brings us to:

Eridan is Not Actually Casteist, Well He Is But Not Like That, It's Complicated

Secondary title: Those Are His Emotional Support Slurs, Okay

In the exact same vein (haha) as secretly not wanting all the land dwellers dead, Eridan also genuinely doesn't feel like he's better than lower blood castes. Vriska and Equius obviously put quite a bit of stock into being nobility, and both have acted superior to Karkat for it. Feferi actually revels in her high status, and while she is genuinely well-meaning, she's not as interested in abolishing casteism as she is in changing the meaning of "culling" specifically (the hemocaste, aristocracy, and casteism still very much exist in a Beforus under her rule). Gamzee MIGHT be the only highblood less casteist than Eridan, but then again, as soon as he snaps, he does say a lot of casteist stuff to Equius, although it's unclear how serious he is, and he also proceeds to get really into his weird highblood clown cult.

Meanwhile, Eridan - despite all his slurs and talk of genocide - does not actually try to "pull rank" on a lowblood for being a lower caste than him with a single exception. That exception is Sollux... after he's already shown having entirely caste-neutral opinions on Sollux:

CC: But Sollux finally came t)(roug)(, and now I believe t)(e full c)(ain is complete! CA: man that guy CA: hes a fuckin drama machine it is fuckin pathetic CC: YOUR STUPID FIS)(Y FAC-E IS T)(-E DRAMA MAC)(IN-E T)(AT DO-ES NOT)(ING BUT W)(IN-E AND GLUB. CC: 38P CA: fuck SORRY CC: Anyway you s)(ouldn't say t)(at about )(im, )(e is a )(ero and )(e saved my life. CA: yeah sorry

CA: my feelins seem petty and meaninless noww CA: she had better things to wworry about than my ovverwwrought bullshit CA: like the dead guy wwho savved her CA: so forget it thanks anywway

It's only AFTER he's mad at Sollux for dating Feferi that he starts going in on Sollux with casteist rhetoric... which is treated as unrequited flirting and not serious casteism:

ERIDAN: hey finless this doesnt concern those wwith mustard sludge slippin through their vveins ERIDAN: its a matter for royalty only ERIDAN: so keep your mouth closed or ill slit you open ovver my next meal SOLLUX: w/e bro, not iintere2ted. FEFERI: -Eridan, please! I don't want to see any more dueling. FEFERI: Don't try to provoke )(im. It's not like I don't know w)(at you're doing! You keep trying to spark a rivalry wit)( )(im to get me to auspisticize between you two, and pull us out of our quadrant! FEFERI: It is t)(e oldest and lamest trick in t)(e book. It didn't work t)(en and it won't work now!

THEY don't even think he's being casteist.

In fact, directly contradicting this earlier argument he has with Feferi:

CC: T)(is is t)(e last time I will say t)(is. CC: W-E AR-E NOT B-ETT-ER T)(AN ANYBODY!!!!! CC: GLUB. >38( CA: pshh CA: hemospectrum begs to differ

He OUTRIGHT states his real feelings here:

CA: im the biggest fuckin idiot who ever lived CA: i cant BELIEVE i just opened up to you like a chump when i knew what was comin CA: i am one sad fuckin brinesucker CA: overemotional sappy trash youre right im not better than anybody CA: im worse than anybody CA: EVERYBODY CA: all the bodies

So the question of "is Eridan casteist" has an answer of "kind of, but also no." Eridan DOES espouse the rhetoric; he's constantly saying stuff that a casteist sea dweller "should" be saying. However, if you look at his ACTIONS, and the way he actually treats people, he doesn't actually care about blood color. He'll hit on anybody, and he's rude as fuck to everybody. The real problem with him is that he's terrible to talk to, not that he's discriminatory.

That's the thing about Eridan. Understanding him means looking past the way he presents himself, the lies he tells to himself, and even, at times, the way the narration presents him. His "overblown emotional theatrics" seem a lot less overblown when his problems ARE so real, deep-seated, and constantly causing him an unimaginable amount of anguish.

The problem is, the main people he has to bounce those problems against are Feferi, Vriska, and Kanaya, three of the people most comfortable with their privileged positions, for whom Eridan's genuine emotional distress seems like needless melodrama. Feferi loves being a princess, Vriska enjoys her noble privileges, Kanaya doesn't need to worry about culling. But for Eridan, his noble status, and the duties and expectations placed on him for it, have caused him nothing but pain - of course he would feel like nobody understands. Most of his closest friends genuinely don't, nor do they try to.

Because that's what he is at his core - a traumatized fucking child, who doesn't see any way out. Eridan is not a casteist genocidal sea dweller... he just wishes he was one, and tries to be one, because if he actually was one, he wouldn't feel so awful and scared and sad all the time. He'd be normal, like his friends.

The reason he constantly spouts anti-land dweller rhetoric and uses casteist language is to assuage this cognitive dissonance. That's why he has to come off so strong, present himself in such an aggrandized way, act like such a douchebag. They're his emotional support slurs. He doesn't actually believe what he says, which means he's a Bad Sea Dweller, which means he's Failing, which means Something Bad Will Happen, so he'd better get his ass in line and say something casteist!

And it's all made worse because:

Eridan is Dumb of Ass (and True of Word)

Oh my god you guys he's so stupid that it hurts.

Okay, that's not entirely fair. Eridan is clearly well-educated and book smart; he has some of the most elegant prose out of the trolls, and he's prone to going off on insane rants with it. (Actually, his language gets more flowery and showy when he's trying to impress a stranger, and gets progressively more laid back, chill, and even kind of "bro"-y when he starts talking to people he doesn't feel like he needs to impress.)

CA: at this point i find all her adorable black pixie dabblins to be prime kiddie playtime shit CA: all of her FRAUDULENT MAGICS cannot come close to posin threat to my mastery ovver the TRUEST SCIENCES CA: an wwith my empiricists wwand i servve as the righteous hope that wwill incinerate delusion and the deluded alike CA: my holy fire is the wwhite fury bled from the wwrath-wweary eyes of fifty thousand nonfictional angels CA: and wwhen theyre finished wweepin they wwill boww before their prince GG: wow what are you talking about

What I mean is this: his brain is so full of anxiety and cognitive dissonance and murder and death that he struggles to care about other people, which has devastating effects on his social skills. I go really in-depth on how his though process informs his behavior here. The question may have popped up in your mind already: if his casteism stuff isn't actually real, then what is Eridan actually like? The answer is, overwhelmingly, and discomfortingly, SINCERE.

This boy is gunning at 100% emotional earnestness 100% of the time, and it's deeply uncomfortable for others to deal with. He'll swing wildly from insults and derogatory language, to stating a desire to kill all land dwellers, to awe and amazement at his friends' prowess, to demanding that they do things for him, to traumadumping and venting, without missing a beat. Often in the same conversation.

CA: kan its hard GA: What CA: being a kid and growwing up CA: its hard and nobody understands

He's also specifically terrible at parsing hostility. Functionally, he interprets all hostility aimed AT him as either pitch/ashen flirting or "ironic repartee," and similarly views his own hostile words as verbal jousting, pitch/ashen advances, or even just factual descriptions of the world around him (ie calling Nepeta a "kittycat shipper cavve girl"). Hostility and aggression are just kind of his baseline, default state of being, and he basically has no ability to differentiate between good and bad attention. I talk more in-depth about his emotionally bereft upbringing (and shitty lusus) here, but suffice to say that our boy isn't getting any emotional support at home, and as a result, craves attention, no matter what kind.

This also means he's insanely gullible. For example, Rose calls him an idiot to his face, and then blows up his computer, sarcastically calling it "your first lesson in showmanship." Eridan proceeds to literally considers it that, blowing up Jade's computer after he's done talking to her. Furthermore, Kanaya sees him as a burden, insults him to his face, and pretty much just bullies him along with Rose for fun.

So she trains Eridan to become a powerful white wizard of hope to challenge her, as a joke.

And yet, in spite of all that, Eridan still has nothing but gratitude and praise for Kanaya:

ERIDAN: kan i been meanin to thank you KANAYA: For What ERIDAN: for all that trainin you did ERIDAN: i wwouldnt be the incredible holy wwizard i am noww wwithout your help KANAYA: But I Didnt Even Really Train You I Just Made You A Wand ERIDAN: yeah wwell thats all i needed i guess ERIDAN: i just needed for someone to showw a little faith in me so im sayin thanks i owwe ya KANAYA: Okay Then Youre Welcome KANAYA: I Hope You Use Your Magnificent Powers Of Light And Hope For Goodness And Purity And Lets Not Forget Science ERIDAN: dont wworry im all ovver that shit you dont evven knoww KANAYA: Uh Oh I Hope That Didnt Come Off As Too Sarcastic ERIDAN: wwhat KANAYA: The Thing I Just Said KANAYA: I Didnt Even Realize How Sarcastic I Was Being Its Starting To Become A Problem I Think KANAYA: Please Dont Take Too Much Offense ERIDAN: haha damn kan if thats your idea of offense bein made then i honestly gotta fuckin wworry for you ERIDAN: tell you wwhat ill givve you some lessons in dealin out the dark umbrage to repay you for your tutelage in the wwhite science

Like, he's in the middle of genuinely thanking her for believing in him, she makes fun of him to his face, and his response is to laugh it off and offer to teach her how to properly insult someone. It's honestly... kind of sad. Not that he doesn't deserve the ridicule, but what we're seeing here is a traumatized, emotionally neglected boy trying to communicate the best that he can that he loves and appreciates his friends, and receiving nothing but mockery in return.

It's really not a surprise, then, that he goes off the deep end. His entire life prior to the game has been shit; he got broken up with as soon as he entered the game (by someone who didn't even care enough not to use fish puns while doing it); he's ostracized and avoided for the game's duration; and then he spends the rest of his time on the meteor being bullied. He feels deeply hopeless and anxious about their situation because he literally doesn't know how else to exist, and his concerns are dismissed and mocked at every turn. When Feferi turns on him with intent to kill, that's his breaking point.

I see a lot of people say he goes grimdark, or succumbs to external influence somehow, but I don't think that needs to be true (nor is it) - he's just a deeply traumatized kid with almost no support network who's finally been pushed to the edge, despite displaying every possible warning sign and making multiple cries for help. Yes, ultimately, he's guilty for his own actions, but his killing spree - alongside Gamzee's and Vriska's - represents a cohesive failure as a team to address very clear problems in their midst.

So Feferi and Kanaya are sick of his ass. Sollux hates him platonically, Equius doesn't like him, and Nepeta thinks of him as a creep. Vriska is his awkward ex, and Terezi agrees with him when he calls himself pathetic. He never interacts with Tavros, Aradia, or sober!Gamzee. Is there anyone that treats him nicely?

Uh, okay, so I swear this isn't shipping goggles -

Pale EriKar Is Canon And I Can Prove It

So, I'm going to start this with a disclaimer: you can ship what you want to ship. I don't mind. I don't care. Headcanons are valid, death of the author, etc. What you do in your free time is up to you.

What I am attempting to argue in this section is that an Eridan/Karkat moirallegiance was heavily foreshadowed, one of the most heavily foreshadowed things in the entire comic, and - assuming that the original ending of Homestuck included all the dead trolls being brought back and redeemed - was going to be endgame. There's a torrential amount of evidence pointing to this, and very little of it is acknowledged even by the EriKar shippers, which is a shame.

At the very least, I'll be happy if I can convince some Karkat RPers to be extra nice to Eridans, because they are actually just friends who care deeply about each other. Canonically.

The first thing to note is that Eridan and Karkat, at least prior to SGRUB, talk all the time, to the point where Feferi feels the need to comment on it:

CC: You know, I'm not sure w)(y we never talk about our romantic aspirations. CC: We s)(ould more often. It is kind of -EXCITING! CA: shrug CC: Probably because you fill your gossip quota wit)( your nubby )(orned bro. CC: You leave not)(ing left to talk about wit)( your dear sweet moirail! CC: We are supposed to )(elp eac)( ot)(er wit)( t)(at stuff too, remember. CA: maybe CA: seems kinda CA: odd though

("Can you please stop having an emotional affair with Karkat" "Eh, I'll think about it")

The second thing to note is what the contents of those conversations entail. Sure, they "gossip," but it goes deeper than that, because they gossip about things that Karkat would NEVER gossip about with anybody else, because Karkat usually respects his "VERY GOOD FRIEND"s. For example, here Eridan mentions that Karkat has speculated on Kanaya's love life with him:

CA: you dont wwant to be our auspistice cause you dont wwant to get locked into that sort of relation wwith her i can respect that GA: No Thats Not It CA: yeah it is your real feelins run pretty awwful RUDDY methinks evverybody knowws it CA: especially that assblood karkat he and me havve you so pegged about that its upright silly

And it's not even a one-off thing, because here Karkat is again, mentioning Nepeta's crush on him:

KARKAT: OK, BUT TO BE FAIR, I'M PRETTY SURE SHE'S STILL OBSESSED WITH ME. KARKAT: IT'S A VERY UNFORTUNATE, VERY RED AND VERY UNREQUITED SITUATION I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TIPTOE AROUND FOR A LONG TIME, OK? KARKAT: HER DISINTEREST IN YOUR ADVANCE WASN'T A REFLECTION ON YOU AT ALL. KARKAT: COME ON, WE TALKED ABOUT THIS.

It's a situation he's been trying to "tiptoe around for a long time," and he tells ERIDAN, of all people? MULTIPLE TIMES? (AND HE ALSO TELLS ERIDAN THAT THE REJECTION WASN'T HIS FAULT???? WHAT??????)

So we've established that they talk frequently and about some pretty seriously sensitive topics. But did you know that they also talk about... their feelings?

See, the thing is, Karkat has always been weirdly nice to Eridan. Here he is in a memo near the very beginning of their game, when Karkat is at his most "rah rah, I'm the big bad leader":

FCA: i got a problem FCA: wwith feferi FCA: and im really kinda sittin here in bad shape about it emotionally speakin CCG: OK, WELL CCG: I GET THAT, I HEAR YOU BRO CCG: BUT THIS IS STILL NOT THE RIGHT PLACE FOR THIS SO I'VE GOT TO BAN YOU. CCG banned FCA from responding to memo. CCG: BUT SERIOUSLY JUST GET IN TOUCH WITH ME IN PRIVATE ABOUT IT, OK MAN? CCG: WE'LL GET YOUR SHIT STRAIGHTENED OUT.

Compare that to Tavros asking for advice later down in the same memo:

PAT: sINCE i DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU ARE NOW, bUT MAYBE HELP ME, PAT: aBOUT A THING THAT HAS TO DO WITH A GIRL, PAT: lIKE, PAT: a ROMANCE THING, yOU MIGHT KNOW ABOUT, CCG: YOU PEOPLE ARE IMBECILES. CCG: ALL OF YOU. CCG: I AM NOT POSTING THESE MEMOS TO COUNSEL YOU ON YOUR PAST AND FUTURE DATING PROBLEMS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CCG: WHY ARE YOU ALL SUCH BASKET CASES. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY ANYMORE. PAT: sORRY, CCG: SHOULD I BAN YOU? WHAT'S EVEN THE POINT ANYMORE! ONE OF YOU STOOGES WILL BE RIGHT ON THE LAST ONES HEELS WITH ANOTHER SOB STORY. CCG: JUST CCG: HURRY UP AND TELL ME WHAT YOUR PROBLEM IS BRO.

He then proceeds to dispense no actual love advice; he just points out that Vriska can totally read this memo too, and then mocks them both when she shows up - thus making it clear that he is giving Eridan special treatment.

You see it again in his discussion with Eridan in [S] Kanaya: Return to the Core, where Eridan invokes a "pact" between them, and Karkat immediately plays nice with him, despite himself being extremely high-strung and stressed out:

KARKAT: RIGHT, IT'S POWERED BY SCIENCE, I FORGOT. KARKAT: OR HOPE. WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT MEANS. ERIDAN: i dont fuckin need this from you i take enough shit as it is from the rest a you dirtscrapers i thought you and me had a kinda pact or wwhatevver KARKAT: OK FINE, SHUT UP, I APOLOGIZE. I KNOW IT'S TOUGH BEING YOU.

That's definitely pity, which Karkat states to be the basis of all relationships besides pitch. But, sure, okay, Karkat is sometimes nice to his friends. He is, after all, the Friendship Troll, so that's not necessarily out of the ordinary. But how about the fact that it goes both ways?

That's right, Eridan "100% aggro 100% of the time" Ampora is actually really considerate toward Karkat's feelings, and basically nobody else's. Upon hearing that Karkat is distressed that Sollux has died, Eridan actively puts his own meltdown about his breakup with Feferi on pause:

TC: BeCaUsE OuR GoOd bRo sOlLuX JuSt kIcKeD ThE WiCkEd mOtHeRfUcKiN ShIt CA: wwhat the fuck do you mean by that CA: are you sayin hes dead TC: YeAh :o( CA: oh fuck CA: oh god fuck noww i feel like an asshole

He then goes on to chastise Gamzee for his shitty advice, demanding to be given the chance to comfort Karkat himself instead:

TC: BuT I ToLd hIm tO Be cHiLl TC: BeCaUsE ThErE Is a mIrAcLe cOmInG, i cAn fEeL It CA: that is the wworst fuckin advvice CA: wwhat an awwful thing a you to say CA: MAGIC ISNT REAL STUPID STOP BELIEVVIN IN IT TC: i'Ve gOt tO BeLiEvE At wHaT My hEaRt tElLs iN Me, EvEn iF It's a fAkE ThInG TC: HoNk CA: this is a lot a pointless fuckin rubbish and isnt no emotional help to him or me either for that matter CA: put kar on

Before finally giving up when Gamzee insists he's "too scared of Jack" to help, drinking some Faygo, and trying to ask past Karkat for help, because past Karkat isn't sad yet about Sollux dying. So, to recap,

Eridan's first instinct when in emotional duress is to go to Karkat.

Eridan feels like he knows Karkat well enough to know that Gamzee's advice would be useless (and is proven right by the fact that Gamzee and Karkat's moirallegiance fails for similar reasons).

Eridan is willing to shelve his own emotional meltdown for Karkat's sake.

Eridan demands to be the one to provide Karkat with emotional support.

And this is, again, not a one-off thing. In the memo Karkat opens right after Eridan and Gamzee have both turned murderous, after he's spent several minutes making death threats toward Eridan and insulting him directly, he goes:

CCG: I'M SO UPSET, I'M JUST COMPLETELY FREAKING OUT IN EVERY WAY POSSIBLE. PCA: yeah i knoww wwhat its like you wwanna talk about it

Eridan spends this entire memo under the belief that it's a completely run-of-the-mill conversation they're having:

PCA: i mean yeah obvviously i kneww you wwerent serious PCA: i guess i appreciate the effort youre puttin into cheerin me up PCA: i can alwways count on you for some good ironic repartee kar nobody else really gets our sense a humor CCG: UGH, NO PCA: are you busy PCA: you said youd try to make it to lowwaa soon wwell howw about it

Which implies that offering to listen to Karkat's feelings is also a completely regular thing for them.

But something magical is ALSO happening within this last memo, and to really explain it, I'll first have to be a little mean to the GamKar shippers (sorry).

So, canonically, GamKar doesn't work out for them, despite also being somewhat foreshadowed. In fact, they feature on Nepeta's shipping wall, which is actually, in my opinion, foreshadowing that it WOULDN'T work out. (Nepeta's ships being wrong, and shipping being something she needs to learn to outgrow, is a whole essay on its own, that I'm not getting into here.)

But the thing is, the seeds for them not working out were also planted in the first - and only - real post-moirallegiance interaction that they have with each other, where Gamzee tries to calm Karkat down... and FAILS:

GAMZEE: naw brother, i was just about to all say for you to try and get your settle down on, maybe. GAMZEE: :o( ... KARKAT: OK KARKAT: OK YEAH KARKAT: I GUESS YOU'RE RIGHT. KARKAT: NO, YOU'RE RIGHT, I SHOULD RELAX. KARKAT: AND BREATHE. KARKAT: I MEAN, WHAT ARE MOIRAILS FOR, RIGHT? KARKAT: THIS IS HOW IT WORKS, I STOP YOU FROM KILLING EVERYBODY, THEN YOU RETURN THE FAVOR AND CALM ME DOWN AND I JUST KARKAT: BREATHE KARKAT: LIKE KARKAT: THIS... KARKAT: SNIIIIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFFFFFFFUCK, THAT SUN IS BRIGHT. KARKAT: CALL ME CRAZY, BUT IT'S KIND OF HARD TO RELAX WITHIN A STONE'S THROW FROM, OH, I GUESS ONLY THE BIGGEST FUCKING STAR ANY MORTAL HAS EVER LAID EYES ON. ... KARKAT: BUT I MEAN, CAN THIS BE HEALTHY? KARKAT: AREN'T WE GOING TO GET BURNED OR HAVE OUR RETINAS SCORCHED BY LOOKING AT IT? KARKAT: OH GOD I THINK I'M HAVING A PANIC ATTACK.

But let's go back to that memo where Karkat is freaking out in every way possible. This is how he starts that memo - so upset about the deaths of his friends and terrified by Gamzee that he can barely string together a coherent thought:

CCG: WE ARE SO SCREWED. CCG: OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK. CCG: GUYS, I AM TERRIFIED, I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. CCG: I'M IN A ROOM FULL OF BODIES, AND I THINK I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO TURN MY BACK ON THEM? CCG: OH MY GOD, I JUST HEARD A HONK. ... CCG: FEFERI, I'M SORRY. CCG: IT WAS MY FAULT, I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. PCC: Sorry for w)(at?? CCG: FOR CCG: I CCG: I CAN'T DO THIS CCG: IT'S TOO MUCH FOR ME, I'M SORRY.

In fact, he's so distressed that he bans Past!Feferi and Past!Gamzee almost immediately after they come in. But then Eridan comes in, and... I mean, first of all, just compare how long it takes for him to ban Eridan:

But more interesting are the contents of their conversation. Over the course of talking to Eridan... Karkat completely calms the fuck down. Like he's entirely forgotten that he's shitting his pants with fear. In fact, he even starts critiquing Eridan for his dumbassery:

PCA: evven if i wwasnt compelled to think you wwere still bein flippant and ironic wwith me you cant exactly outright reject me can you CCG: WHY NOT PCA: cause youre future you PCA: doesnt count unless its present you til then its all fair game CCG: IS THIS REAL, ARE YOU BEING IRONIC OR SOMETHING, I CAN'T EVEN TELL ANYMORE CCG: THE PROBLEM IS, I CAN'T PUT THIS SORT OF BEHAVIOR PAST YOU AT ALL, SO I DON'T KNOW. ... CCG: YOU'RE KILLING ANGELS NOW, AREN'T YOU PCA: no CCG: YOU ARE KILLING FUCKING ANGELS, RIGHT NOW, IN THE PAST, WITH YOUR SHITTY GUN. I JUST KNOW IT. PCA: wwell uh PCA: therere just so damn many kar and theyre not gettin any less bloody pissed is the thing CCG: THIS IS WHY IT WOULD NEVER WORK BETWEEN US, MAN.

It's extremely funny. Over the course of talking to Eridan, he goes from:

CCG: OH GOD OH GOD OH MAN OH GOD CCG: NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

To:

CCG banned PCA from responding to memo. CCG: ANYWAY CCG: THAT'S IT I GUESS.

Eridan isn't even trying to calm Karkat down. He still succeeds in doing so. This is because they are soul mates. And I mean that in the sense that the comic literally calls being moirails soul mates, which it doesn't do for the other quadrants:

A reasonable human translation would be the concept of a soul mate, but in a more platonic sense, and with a more specific social purpose.

That "social purpose" being that an even-tempered troll calms down a more hot-tempered one, and vice versa.

It also goes on to note:

But some pale pairings, as the one above [referring to a picture of Nepeta and Equius], will be strikingly obvious to all who know them.

But what's really interesting is the next page.

And yet others will seem to have been hatched for each other.

Did you catch that? Let me zoom in.

(Also, the blue and red cuttlefish to represent Sollux - Feferi and Sollux spend the whole game together, and even wind up talking about their feelings constantly in a pile - more on piles in a sec.)

In fact... in Eridan's first visual appearance...

The crab has always been there for him.

It's also important to talk about the bottle of Faygo that's been photoshopped to be candy red, Karkat's blood color. The path that it takes actually directly mirrors Karkat's relationships with Gamzee and Eridan - it's initially something that Gamzee has, but winds up being ejected out of his life, and washes up on Eridan's shore. In fact:

TC: SnAtCh aN IcEcOlD, dOg TC: MoThErFuCkIn cHuG ThAt sHiT LiKe yOu aNd tHe bOtTlE WaS ReUnItEd lOvErS CA: are you recommendin a bevverage to me or somethin CA: is that wwhat this is TC: YeAh mAn SlAm A FaYgO CA: i dont havve a fuckin faygo you stupid fuck wwhy wwould i keep that disgusting shit on hand TC: ArE YoU MoThErFuCkIn sUrE AbOuT ThAt? CA: oh CA: oh god youre right i do CA: i totally forgot about it TC: YoU SeE MaN TC: MoThEr TC: FuCkIn TC: MiRaClEs TC: :o)

When Gamzee and Eridan discuss this exact bottle, Gamzee even likens it to "reunited lovers"; it's something that Eridan has had this whole time (after all, he was cheating on Feferi with the guy), but never realized.

There are a few miscellaneous things that don't really mean anything on their own, but put next to all this other stuff, is worth considering, so I'll list those now.

First, they both do the bonk:

Second:

CG: ARE WE NOT FRIENDS ANYMORE BECAUSE OF STUFF I SAID. TA: eheheheh you LIITERALLY a2k me that every tiime are you jokiing. TA: ii cant even tell anymore. CG: IT'S A JOKE MORON. CG: HONESTLY I'M JUST GLAD NOBODY ELSE IS PRIVVY TO OUR CONVERSATIONS.

Third, Karkat muses to his future self about how he misses his friends, especially the assholes, two pages before staring at a dead Eridan's ass (joking, he's definitely looking at WV, but it's still significant that this thought is being associated with Eridan):

CCG: I MEAN, DON'T GET ME WRONG. CCG: I MISS ALL OF MY DEAD FRIENDS A LOT. CCG: EVEN THE ASSHOLES! I MISS THEM TOO. MAYBE EVEN ESPECIALLY THEM, IN SOME PERVERSE WAY. CCG: AND I SHOULD BE RELIEVED THAT THEY ALL SEEM TO BE HAPPY IN SOME WAY, EVEN IF IT'S BY FLOATING NEBULOUSLY THROUGH DREAM PROJECTIONS WITH THEIR FREAKY BLANK EYES. CCG: AND I GUESS I AM RELIEVED ABOUT THAT. CCG: BUT AT THE SAME TIME IT'S LEFT ME UNSETTLED.

Fourth, in the same conversation, he bemoans his failed relationship with Terezi, before Future!Karkat chastises Past!Karkat for his instability and mixed signals. Going back to the page on moirallegiances, an explicit function of a proper pale relationship is stabilizing a troll's other relationships:

The two partners in a strong pale relationship will serve to balance and complement each other's emotional profiles, and thus allow their other relationships to be more successful.

Of course, I don't need to tell you how messy and unstable Eridan's relationships have been.

And finally, Piles of Stuff™ are associated with moirails, and directly stated in-comic to cause an outpouring of emotion:

Standing near this pile stirs powerful emotions. The closer you stand to piles of stuff, the more freely the feelings flow. It is a law of reality.

So here's a seven-word tragedy for you: For Sale, Shitty Wand Pile, Never Used:

ERIDAN: at least i got the upright basic decency to hide my shitty wand pile somewwhere in the lab you wwont find it dont evven bother lookin KARKAT: WHY DO YOU ASSHOLES HAVE PILES OF THINGS, JUST STOP.

(Which he specifically tells Karkat about.)

So, yeah, what I'm saying is, there's just, like, a weirdly large amount to read into here. That Karkat and Eridan are probably soulmates or whatever. And that this is important because...

Eridan Is Plot Relevant (Well All The Dead Trolls Are But This Is An Essay About Eridan)

So. Now we are going to talk about themes. Yes, like we are in schoolfeeding again. I'm going to keep it simple, because "The Themes of Homestuck" is a whole essay on its own, and this one about just the shitty fish boy is already way too long.

I think it's fairly non-controversial to posit that the main theme of Homestuck is, "children should mature, care about each other, and throw off the shackles of their old society, because they will be responsible for a new world one day."

Up until Game Over/the Retcon, this is so prevalent and well-established that SBURB/SGRUB's coming-of-age themes will outright be commented upon by the characters, and the main villain is a child who deliberately stunted his own growth so he could go around kicking over other peoples' toys forevermore.

So, the thing is, with that being the theme of Homestuck, if ALL of the Alternian trolls don't survive to the end, the ending is thematically unsatisfying, because the message suddenly gains an addendum of "well, some kids just need to die," which totally sucks. Like, sure, Eridan was a violent, crazed murderer even at the best of times, but his permanent death within the canon ending kind of means that the comic is saying that people in his position don't deserve kindness or second chances. That position being a traumatized, emotionally neglected child, who was being bullied by people he considered his friends. It's a pretty terrible message.

It's even worse when you consider what other trolls don't make it to the end - Nepeta, the most outspoken troll against the hemospectrum (and Davepeta does NOT count, don't try to tell me the final culmination of Nepeta's character arc is being combined with some guy she barely knows and a bird). Feferi, who genuinely wanted the best for others, even if she was kind of a privileged princess. Aradia and Sollux also stay behind in the bubbles, even though their lives have pretty much been endless parades of suffering and being used by other people. Even Equius doesn't deserve it - he was kind of a casteist freak, but not irredeemably so, and the fact that he became kinder to Karkat over the course of SGRUB proved that he had the capacity to change. And Tavros, allergic to himself and being insulted by Vriska, is a terrible way to end his arc.

It's also really clear that, since half his friends are dead, Karkat just doesn't really have anything to do. His title is the Knight of Blood, and Blood is about bonds - romance, friendship. And yet, he ends the comic having never figured out what Blood was about, with no confirmed filled quadrants (sorry DaveKat likers, but within the comic itself, DaveKat is never confirmed), and most of his bonds nothing more than ghosts in the bubbles. It's a terribly unsatisfying ending for the most narratively important troll.

I think, then, that even if you don't agree that Homestuck should have ended with full revivals and redemption arcs for all the trolls, the essay is going to proceed on like you do, so, sorry, I guess.

The thing with Eridan, specifically, is that he's actually tied deeply into the plot and themes, and his return means more than just Karkat finally getting a date (although that's important, too). Eridan is directly intertwined with a prophecy to kill Lord English; he's set up to mirror Caliborn and Calliope; and thematically, his redemption would be the most clear instance of the "interrogating society" part of the theme of Homestuck, because Eridan is kind of the Society Troll. And also, he was definitely supposed to be Roxy's wizard boyfriend.

Just gonna get that last one out of the way real quick because it's a fast one, Roxy fucking loves wizards and is a hipster. Eridan is a wizard and is also a hipster. Roxy has a crush on a prince. Eridan is also a prince. Roxy wears a purple striped scarf. Eridan wears a blue striped scarf. Roxy uses rifles. Eridan uses rifles. Momlonde's introduction includes a passive-aggressive fridge battle that features a cameo of Eridan's quirk.

Using the colorful MAGNET LETTERS, you recently left a succinct message, which may or may not have been directed toward anyone in particular. But you couldn't find the letter W, so you just stuck two V's together. Your mother then purchased a fresh pack of W's and left them there for your convenience.

Yeah. So. Uh. Not only did Eridan need to be brought back to date Karkat pale, but he also needed to be brought back to date Roxy flushed. Can you imagine how funny it would be. They'd get together within 5 minutes of meeting for the first time and Rose would lose her shit. Anyway.

Him being a parallel to Calliope and Caliborn is also a quick one - Caliborn uses Riflekind/Sceptrekind, and Calliope uses Pistolkind/Wandkind. Eridan's two weapons are rifles and wands. Lord English is described as an evil wizard and at one point is shown using Calliope's wand. Eridan is also an evil wizard who uses a wand.

Look, I'm not saying that Eridan is necessarily directly related to these two, nor am I even necessarily saying that he and Roxy HAVE to date, but I am saying that he's got Weird Plot Connections that make him bizarrely relevant to characters that only come into play well after his death - almost like the comic was setting up that he would be coming back. His reaction to Cronus supports this, which I go into detail about here.

There's other strange "Eridan's plot important" things, too - like the fact that he's completely unimpressed by Faygo, considering it to be "just soda," and seems to be the only non-cultist who's okay with it. Or the fact that he's actually been awake on Derse since before the game (but unable to hear the horrorterrors, maybe foreshadowing some psychic resistance?) which he casually reveals to Kanaya and which Terezi is aware of, hence he's included in the people she names are "in" on the existence of the game. Or the fact that the genetic code for Alternia's first guardian was written within the pages of four FLARP books, with the addition of a fifth code Gamzee wrote in Karkat's ~ATH book... but Eridan was the fifth FLARP player in the team, implying that Doc Scratch/LE influencing Gamzee caused him to usurp Eridan's part of the first guardian code, giving LE his way into the trolls' universe.

Individually, it's all kind of nothing, but it just paints a bigger picture of Eridan being weirdly relevant, especially when we get to the juicy stuff:

The Prophecy

ARANEA: The 8ard of Hope may seem a little jaded these days, 8ut he once had a deeply a8iding faith in magic, and dedicated himself to 8ecoming a great wizard. He 8ecame convinced he was hatched to defeat an extraordinarily evil magician, one he swore the angels foretold of. ... [T]his magician once somehow from afar tried to strike him down at a young age, so he would never have to face him. 8ut the evil spell was deflected, sealing the magician's spirit away in a series of unassuming vessels until he could find some other cunning way to enter our universe. ... ARANEA: 8ut at some point he 8ecame disillusioned with magic. If there ever was any truth to his far fetched vision, the legacy of defeating the evil magician would have to 8e passed on to his descendant, or if his descendant proved to 8e as much of a failure as he did, then perhaps on to some other Hero of Hope.

ERIDAN: i slaughtered enough angels to knoww my limits and wwhere i stand against the lord of all angels they prophecized

GG: im pretty sure hes from the future! CA: wwhy GG: because he said hes my grandson CA: wwhat the fuck is a grandson CA: is that some kind of pervverse human familial thing GG: umm yes ... CA: that gun i just gavve you is somethin of a hatchright to the kid CA: happy i could play a role in your dirty stinkin lineage GG: like an heirloom? i guess it could be ... CA: i kinda think thats wwhy i found the gun in the first place CA: but noww im forsakin it because fuck i just found a better destiny than my old crappy one wwhich i nevver got any appreciation for anywway

Jake is supposed to have been the one to defeat Lord English. (No, Jake defeating pre-LE Caliborn right before he gets sealed into Cal doesn't count! He doesn't even get the final blow in that fight, DIRK does.)

But Eridan at one point had that destiny on his shoulders. Aranea turbohealing Jake, and the resultant hope field, summons a bunch of angels, which are heavily associated with Eridan - yet another random connection that Eridan has with future plot events.

Jake was another character, alongside Karkat, who was kind of reduced to a joke by the end, despite the fact that he had literally, directly, been passed the destiny of defeating Lord English. It's hard not to see this as a consequence, at least in part, of removing Eridan from the story. By cutting him out of the fabric of the ending, several plot threads - including this prophecy - are left dangling in irrelevance. And so Jake, like Karkat, now has nothing to do.

Homestuck is generally a series where every prophecy does come true, which makes it kind of startling when several prophecies fail to - Feferi's to "unite the two races," Jake's to defeat Lord English, and Karkat's to bring "compassion, forgiveness, and equality among all bloodlines" in the Signless's place.

That last one is actually relevant to:

The Thematic Importance of EriKar As Soul Mates

Eridan represents the worst aspects of Alternian society. He's a sea dweller at the top of the caste structure, with free reign to murder whoever he wants, soaked in the blood of thousands of innocent trolls. He espouses the casteist rhetoric that their society is built on, calling for the deaths of all land dwellers and the oppression of the lower castes. And while he should be benefitting from his position of privilege, it has also done nothing but hurt him.

Karkat, meanwhile, is a pariah. A mutant who would've been culled on sight, who spent his entire life living in hiding, and most of the game in fear that he would be ostracized or worse by the rest of his friends if they found out about his blood color. He's also the second coming of Troll Jesus, and thus, more despised by the Alternian ruling class than a mutant normally would be. For most of his life, he dreamed of nothing more than finding belonging within the society that had deemed him unfit.

Their friendship is something that "should not be." The highblood and the mutant. The royal-v and the off-spectrum. The empress's sea dweller and the second coming of the signless. Eridan "should" see Karkat as a miscreant to cull on sight. Karkat "should" be terrified of Eridan's very existence.

But in reality, Eridan doesn't give a shit about blood color, and Karkat just wants to be accepted. Eridan just wants someone to care about him, and Karkat loves his friends. Aside from Feferi, Eridan is the only highblood who never comments about Karkat's mutant blood, and they were best buddies even before Eridan knew.

Eridan and Karkat getting together isn't JUST the two most undateable trolls on the team finally landing a stable quadrant. These two, moreso than any other pairing, represent the themes of Homestuck. Children growing up, caring about each other, and throwing off the shackles of their old society.

In the pre-retcon timeline, their team failed to do so. This led to Gamzee falling into his highblood clown cult, Equius letting himself and Nepeta die by submitting to his place in the hemospectrum, Vriska killing Tavros because she couldn't allow herself to show weakness, and Eridan completing his caste's dream of genocide. Karkat spent the entire meteor trip and beyond beating himself up about it, since he considered it all to be his fault.

But with the introduction of John's retcon powers, they have the chance to, one by one, redeem themselves. I believe that's how the original ending would have gone: Terezi would ask John to bring Vriska back, because she only feels comfortable fixing her own mistakes. Vriska would then have asked John to bring back Tavros, whom she regretted killing. Tavros would be there for Gamzee, rendering him an ally. Gamzee would ask John to bring back Equius and Nepeta. Equius would ask John to help him not make the same mistakes with Aradia, and Aradiabot would catch John by the wrist and demand he bring her back in time to before she died, allowing her to circumvent her own death and Sollux's guilt. Sollux would ask John to keep him from provoking Eridan, saving Feferi. And Feferi would be pretty ok with the way things were... but KARKAT would then pull John aside, and drop an entire book of mistakes he made on John's lap, and this would result in a finalized timeline where all his friends are alive and god-tiered.

Because all the trolls SHOULD have survived.

Vriska should've survived because people should be allowed to have second chances.

Tavros should've survived because caring about each other, and being willing to show kindness and mercy, are good things.

Gamzee should have survived because people mired in religious fundamentalism and cults deserve to be offered a helping hand.

Equius should've survived because people should be allowed to grow and change their beliefs.

Nepeta should've survived because she was the anti-casteism troll. Casteism is bad, folks! Not only that, but I'm convinced that she was originally going to give the Ultimate Self exposition, and Davepetasprite^2 had to be contrived in the canon ending in order to shortcut Nepeta's character development, ruining it in the process.

Aradia should've been allowed to stay with the rest of the team and live a life free of the control of evil uncles and shitty ancestors.

Sollux should've been allowed to stay with the rest of the team because we all deserve to heal and be happy.

Feferi should've survived so she could be in a kismesistude with Nepeta, and realize that casteism itself is bad, not just the definition of culling, and then used her Witch of Life powers to even out the lifespans between the next generation of trolls, which needs to happen or else casteism will just happen again as long-lived highbloods inevitably amass power. And, also, it would complete the prophecy Gl'bgolyb gave her that she was intended to unite the two races (dream bubbles don't count, because by that metric, Sollux did more than she did by establishing a connection between the trolls and humans).

And Eridan should've survived, because the harm society has done to us can be undone. We don't have to submit to the roles it imposes, to the laws it wrote, to the abuse it inflicted. We can be free.

I've seen a lot of people who believe that such-and-such character did SUCH awful things that they don't deserve a happy ending. Oftentimes, it's Eridan, but nearly all of the dead trolls have gotten this treatment. So, let me just ask all of you who have gotten this far and still hold that opinion one thing. Do you think that's what Troll Jesus would have wanted?

This is why pale EriKar is so important: for it to happen, Eridan has to make a choice between upholding the beliefs of his shitty society, or pursuing a happier, kinder future, one where he outright rejects the caste system. For it to happen, Karkat has to shake all his insecurities about not being good enough by Alternian standards, and take on the duty of creating something better than what he came from. If pale EriKar happens, it means Eridan and Karkat choose love, not fear. Compassion, forgiveness, and equality.

This choice - this pairing - is the ultimate representation of giving Alternian society one big middle finger. Saying, we don't need you anymore, fuck off! Saying, we reject you at your core; we will choose something better! Saying, we will create a new world, and it will be kinder than the one we came from!

Pale EriKar means LOVE WINS.

Thank you for reading.

#homestuck #eridan ampora #karkat vantas #erikar #im also going to tag all the other trolls that feature because yeah.#vriska serket #feferi peixes #nepeta leijon #equius zahhak #gamzee makara #kanaya maryam

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claudemblems · 5 months

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A Kiss to End All Doubt | Albert Moriarty

Summary: When you agreed to tag along with the Moriarty brothers to a grand ball, the last thing you expected was to receive a noble's offer of marriage. Thankfully, Albert plays the part of your lover well, perhaps a little too well for his affectionate words to be fake...

Content: SFW. Fem!Reader. 3,723 words. Pining. Soooo much romantic tension. Albert is a flirt and no one is surprised.

Notes: I have been writing this fic for what feels like forever BUT IT'S FINALLY FINISHED :3 I'm so excited to finally give this to you. I hope you enjoy it 💖 I may also add an epilogue if there's an interest for one...🤭

Did Albert Moriarty, one of the many faces of the Lord of Crime, truly not have the slightest idea of the effect he had on you?

It was silly to even fathom that a man of his stature could be so oblivious, but you couldn’t help but start to wonder once he started giving your flushed cheeks and wide eyes a quizzical look.

That, or he was playing coy with you, which wouldn’t be all that surprising coming from him. He’d long since mastered the art of making noble ladies go weak in the knees.

But that was a skill he’d acquired out of pure necessity. If he had things his way, he’d refuse to give the stuck up women of the nobility the time of day. Unfortunately, he had a role to play in all of his brother’s plans, and so he continued flirting with the noble ladies just long enough to leave them wanting more.

You, on the other hand, were no noble. In fact, you had no good fortune, distinguished education, or marriageable prospects to speak of. Truly, you were nothing but a mere face hidden amongst the shadows, which was perfect for an assistant to the Lord of Crime.

You’d begun to empathize with Albert’s disdain for these royal functions, mainly the lavish balls he and his brothers had little choice but to attend. It was important for them to keep up appearances as a well-rounded noble family who knew how to mingle with the upper-class, whether they enjoyed doing so or not. While they seemed to have gotten used to it for the most part, it proved to be quite the difficult adjustment for you. Thankfully, Albert had patiently taught you the ins and outs of noble life, giving you lessons on small talk and etiquette whenever time permitted.

However, he hadn’t yet taught you how to handle a nobleman’s advances.

“You must be Lady [Name],” the man greeted, holding out his hand for you to take. You briefly glanced towards Albert, taking his nod as a sign to follow through with the gesture. A kiss was placed onto your hand before the man let go, stepping back to better admire the exquisite sights around him. “It’s quite a splendid ball, isn’t it? There’s so many well-mannered and intelligent guests in our midst, such as you, young Lord Albert.”

“Lord Darnley, you are far too kind,” Albert said, placing a hand over his heart and bowing. “I ought to be extending the compliments to you. Your presence here is most welcome, as well as that of your entourage. Would the girl you brought with you happen to be your little sister, Lady Georgina?”

“Ah, I see you’ve made sure to memorize the names of all the guests! Indeed, she insisted on joining me, and no matter what I said, she refused to take no for an answer!” Darnley bellowed in laughter, briefly drawing the attention of the other guests nearby.

“She already seems to be quite the free spirit. I’m sure she has a bright future ahead of her.”

“If you’re so interested in my dear Georgina, I would be more than willing to sit down and discuss a potential marriage between the two of you.”

You swore you saw a flash of disgust appear in Albert’s eyes, but he simply smiled brightly at Darnley, careful that his emotions did not look fake or contrived. “While your offer is certainly generous, I have no plans of marriage at the moment. I’m afraid I’m already plenty busy with my service in the royal army.”

“Ah, what a shame,” Lord Darnley sighed, but his disappointment quickly turned to anticipation when his gaze once again fell on you. Your stomach lurched at the look in his eyes, but you tried to retain your composure, copying Albert’s mannerisms by offering a surface-level smile.

“Lady [Name], I am supposing you are not yet married if you’re attending this function with the Moriartys.”

“That would be correct, my good sir. How astute of you to notice.”

Lord Darnley grinned at the news like a hunter mere moments away from ensnaring this prey. “Well then, my lady, is there anyone that has asked for your hand yet?”

Goosebumps ran down your arms as you swallowed thickly. Anyone with a right mind knew exactly where this conversation was heading.

“I…well…” Should you tell the truth? Should you lie? But then who would you say had expressed a desire in marrying you? “It’s…complicated.”

“So, that would mean no formal question has been posed then, correct?”

“...Correct.”

You heard Albert’s feet shift next to you, on guard for whatever preposterous idea this nobleman could come up with next.

“Well, it’s certainly not good for a lady of your standing to be without a husband. I, myself, am quite the romantic, and I believe a courting period fosters a genuine love between both parties involved. If you have no one currently vying for your hand, perhaps you’d offer me the chance to earn it.”

No. No. On so many levels, no.

But this wasn’t about you—your happiness or married life did not come before the liberation of London. Whatever the brothers asked of you, you would adhere to their words, even if it meant having to be stuck with a man such as…this. Though you knew they’d never even entertain the thought of offering you up to some man who cared only for your beauty and status and nothing for your heart. If you were to refuse Darnley’s advances, at the least, you were confident the Moriartys would respect your decision.

Even so, you didn’t want to cause any more trouble for them. If you couldn’t agree to the idea of marriage, perhaps a date or two would suffice, right?

Just the thought made you feel sick.

“Well, what do you say, my lady? Will you allow me the pleasure of courting you?”

You knew you had to keep up appearances. You couldn’t allow for cracks to show in the perfect and amicable facade the Moriartys had carefully crafted. You knew that well, and yet…

This was a proposal that not even death itself could bring you to accept.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but I must sincerely refuse.”

Lord Darnley stared at you in alarm. “Come again? You didn’t just say no to my advances, did you?”

Your heart rate quickened as his words grew heated, and in that moment you wanted nothing more than to take off and hide somewhere safe and quiet in the manor’s garden, away from other people who might come up with even more ridiculous propositions.

“It’s just as you heard, my lord. I must decline.”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as Lord Darnley stared straight into your eyes, not blinking for several long moments. Your hands had begun to shake as you feared that you’d just begun tarnishing the reputation of the Moriarty family. Truly, there were fewer things more terrifying than a nobleman who felt he’d been insulted, and the consequences for such an offense would be nothing short of dire.

“Lady [Name], you are in no place to refuse my offer. You said yourself that no other man has even brought up the idea of marriage to you! Are you truly so brazen that you would reject the prospects of a life in union with mine? We all know who makes the decisions around here, and they’re certainly not made by women—!”

“My good sir, I believe you’ve said quite enough.”

A small gasp left your lips as Albert sneaked a hand around your waist, still carefully holding his glass of wine in the other. You searched his face for an answer as to what he was scheming, but he simply smiled—a true one this time—wordlessly reassuring you that all would be well.

“You see, Lady [Name] may not have received an offer of marriage as of yet, but that is only because I have been quite busy protecting our beloved country. I wish to propose when I am able to be at home more often and thus can fulfill my duties as a devoted husband to my wife. So I must politely ask that you rescind your offer, lest you make yourself seem as though you chase after taken women.”

Propose? Husband?

If you were afraid of tainting the Moriarty image, Albert clearly didn’t share your concerns.

“Taken? Why, I—! You’re bluffing, Lord Albert! You’re not planning on marrying this woman!”

“And what has brought you to that incorrect conclusion?”

“If that were the case, you would have brought it up the moment I asked if she were single!”

“To be fair, you asked if she’d received an offer for marriage, not if she was currently available to court.”

You could practically see the steam coming out of Lord Darnley’s ears, his face growing redder with each passing minute. He was still unconvinced, and for good reason, too, but you weren’t about to let Albert’s kindness go to waste.

You placed a hand on Albert’s shoulder, smiling up at him as he redirected his full attention to you. “It’s true, my lord. My affections have been reciprocated by my dear Albert, and I am patiently waiting for him to ask me to marry him. It will be a proposal I shall readily accept.”

Darnley scoffed, a hand placed over his heart in disbelief. “And you had the gall not to tell me when I’d begun to question you? Either you’re a terrible liar, or you’re just hoping to humiliate me in front of all these guests!”

“I would never dream of deceiving or insulting you, my lord. I should have made my relationship status clear to you earlier. Please forgive my carelessness.”

“I still think this is some elaborate hoax the both of you are trying to pull off. If not to tarnish my good name, then to convince every noble here that you’re worth the status bestowed on you at birth.” Lord Darnley swiped a fresh glass of wine off the tray of one of the waiters walking by, the man watching in horror as the lord downed all of the liquid in one gulp. His cheeks had started to take on a flushed hue from the great amount of alcohol he’d consumed that night, and with the way things were going, he was sure to be drunk by the end of it. “Perhaps, Lady [Name],” Darnley continued, a lopsided smirk forming on his face, “you’ve been lying about your social status, and you’re hoping that your marriage to Lord Albert will secure you a place in the upper class.”

Anger surged through you at his utterly ridiculous theory. Darnley had unknowingly gotten one fact right: you were a nobody. When you’d been taken in by the Moriarty family, you had nothing to your name but pen, paper, and the clothes on your back. But you knew one thing for sure: you had worth as a human being, and no one, noble or otherwise, would be able to change that.

And marrying a noble for status? What a laughable suggestion. As if you’d stoop so low just for some so-called “honor” among the elite.

“Well, dear sir,” you began, discreetly hiding a smirk behind your gloved hand, “I had no idea you were so foolish as to even come up with such an inconceivable thought. I once held you in high regard as I’ve heard many within the nobility sing your praises, but your current behavior is quite unbecoming of a person of your stature.”

You heard Albert try, and fail, to stifle a laugh next to you. You quietly breathed out a sigh of relief to see that he’d chosen not to reprimand your strong words. If anything, he seemed eager to encourage them.

As Lord Darnley frantically signaled for a waiter to bring him more wine, Albert took the opportunity to lean down next to your ear, whispering a simple yet heart-pounding question, “[Name], would it be all right with you to play further into these roles of enchanted lovers?”

Your breath caught in your throat, butterflies beginning to form in your stomach. “Of course,” you said. If only you knew how I truly felt, you wouldn’t even need to ask.

He smiled down at you, a sight that only stirred up the butterflies even more, and pulled you closer against him. Meanwhile, his eyes bored into Lord Darnley’s frame, darkening with every passing moment. If there was no one else in that ballroom, you had no doubt Albert would have leapt at the chance to get rid of him.

When Lord Darnley had finished downing another glass of wine, his fiery countenance returned to you and Albert. “You both are frauds,” he spat. “Everyone else here might be too dim-witted to figure it out, but I’ll make them aware that you’re not the upstanding moral characters you believe that you are.”

“It’s a shame to hear such vile thoughts coming from your own mouth, good sir,” Albert sighed. “But if I must be honest, I don’t care what any noble in this room thinks of me or the house in which I rule over.”

“Oh? And why is that, good sir?”

“Because,” Albert answered, turning his body towards yours, his visage noticeably softening when his focus returned to you, “the only person I want to please is the woman I adore. Not one person in the nobility is worthy of praise or merit—no one but her alone.”

Setting aside his glass, Albert gingerly took your hand in his own, meeting your eyes to silently ask for your permission. At your nod of approval, he lifted your fingertips to his lips, placing a gentle and almost reverent kiss against them.

“I love her,” he said, his sweet gaze reaching the very depths of your soul, “and when the time is right, I will make her mine.”

His words were like a match igniting the fire blazing in your heart, the flames fed by your deep affections for him, growing with every beat that thumped in your chest.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand came to rest against your cheek, his touch so light yet so dizzying, more intoxicating than any wine you’d had that night.

Albert searched your eyes as all the feelings you’d tried to keep at bay finally came pouring in like waves. You were sure he could see it all: the admiration, the yearning, the love you’d kept locked away. But somehow he’d managed to find the matching key, the truth you’d been hiding for all these years finally at his reach.

His fingers traveled along your cheek and down to your jaw, this thumb tracing patterns against your skin. You were still dazed from his words to Darnley, but you brought yourself to meet Albert’s gaze once more, curious to see what truths you could uncover in his own expression.

And you wished you hadn’t, because when you saw the affection so clearly present in them, you wanted nothing more than to throw yourself into his arms and kiss him until the night turned into day.

Albert wasn’t oblivious, and you knew it. Whatever people thought of him as—a genius, a young prodigy, a man of great knowledge—his ability to read people was beyond the average person’s comprehension. And you knew when he’d finally figured out what the person he’d been surveying was hiding. His lips would quirk upwards ever so slightly, the dimples on his face just beginning to show, and he’d cock his head to the side, pleased with his findings.

And that was exactly how he was looking at you.

You’d placed your heart out in plain view of his observant eyes, and he’d figured you out. But now that he knew of your feelings for him, what was he planning to do with them?

Albert’s thumb drifted from your jaw down your lips, careful not to brush off the lipstick staining them. He stared at them for several moments, deep in thought, before he returned his eyes to yours, a single question hidden within them.

May I?

Already breathless, you squeezed his hand once, closing your eyes as Albert leaned in painstakingly slowly, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation. This was the moment you’d only been able to imagine in dreams, on nights where you sat wordlessly under the stars, silently wishing upon them in vain. They couldn’t grant you your desires. They couldn’t give you everything you ever wanted. You were the only one with the power to seize your opportunity and make your own wish come true.

And as Albert’s lips finally fell on yours, you smiled.

Your greatest wish was being granted right before your very eyes.

His lips tasted faintly of wine, and the subdued scent of his cologne still lingered on his collar. Combined with the warm and comforting touch of his hand cupping your face, your senses were overwhelmed in the most wonderful of ways. It felt as if you’d begun to float, brought into a fairy tale-esque trance where the entire world grew still except for you and Albert.

Time had stalled to allow you this moment of pure, undeniable bliss that not even the corrupt powers of this world could take away from you.

With his lips still on yours, Albert’s hand snaked further around your waist, gently pulling you closer against him. You practically had no room left between the two of you, and so in a moment of boldness, you placed one hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest, right above his heart. Even through his suit, you could feel it beating wildly.

It only made you wonder: did he truly mean what he’d said earlier? Did he really harbor such affection for you? Did he really intend…to make you his?

Before you could ponder anymore, Albert finally pulled away, cheeks faintly dusted with rose. He appeared somewhat dazed himself, but he kept his composure, still well aware of where the two of you were at the moment.

But this time when he turned to Darnley, he smirked, practically beaming from head to toe with delight as he spoke. “Well, Lord Darnley, do you believe us now?”

If looks could kill, both of you would have succumbed to that man’s rage.

Darnley’s hands gripped his wine glass so tightly that it shattered onto the floor, the remnants of wine staining his once perfectly polished suit. Other nobles stopped their conversations and turned to him upon hearing the commotion, a few of them even pulling out handkerchiefs.

“Sir, let me get you a new glass,” a waiter spoke, holding his hand out to take the broken one from him. But Lord Darnley was already fuming, and he shoved the waiter to the side, smashing the rest of the wine glass against the floor.

“You will pay for this,” he snarled. Sending you one final glare, he turned on his heel, marching out of the ballroom, hopefully never to be seen again (at least for the night).

“Well,” Albert breathed, laughing as he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t think he’ll be bothering us anymore.”

“You’re right…Thank you, Albert.”

“What are you thanking me for?” he asked, gaze drifting back to yours. “I’ve done nothing to warrant your gratitude.”

You shook your head. “You have, Albert. You didn’t have to step in and save me from Darnley’s advances, but you did, even though doing so could have tarnished your family name. I’m indebted to you.”

Albert frowned ever so slightly, and you cocked your head to the side, confused. After a few moments, his gaze flickered to the people dancing around the room, his cheeks still tinged a beautiful red. “If you thought I was doing all that just to be a gentleman,” he murmured, “then I don’t know what it would take to make the truth clear to you...”

Well, suddenly you were the one left blushing.

“It’s not that. I…I don’t want to assume anything more, not when you’re such a precious person to me. I’m just scared of ruining what we have between us.”

Albert turned his attention back to you, using the hand that was still on your waist to pull you close to him again. Taking your other hand in his, he lifted it up to his lips, your faces now just mere inches apart.

“And what if I were to say that I do want something more?”

You almost wanted to pinch yourself to make sure it wasn’t all a dream.

But you still felt the press of his lips against yours, took in the smell of his cologne, and memorized the touch of his fingers running along your cheek. It was not a dream. It was even better.

Albert leaned down next to your ear, his breath fanning against your skin. “If one kiss isn’t enough to convey how much my heart yearns for you, then allow me to kiss you until you’re breathless, and no more words of doubt are left on your tongue.”

Albert smiled as your face grew redder, and with the way he bit his lip, you knew he was struggling not to comment on it.

“For a noble, you sure lack any semblance of shame, Master Albert."

Albert shook his head and chuckled to himself, that mischievous glint having once again returned to his eyes. “Keep teasing me and you’ll find out just how shameless I can be, darling.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Do you want to find out?”

Despite your flustered state, you couldn’t help but laugh, squeezing Albert’s hand tighter in yours. “If you want to kiss me so badly, do so in a place that’s actually romantic, will you?”

Taking you by the hand, Albert began to lead you outside of the ballroom and into the rose gardens. “Of course, and I’ll take my time to make sure I kiss you properly.”

You made a mental note to thank William and Louis for letting you tag along to the ball. If all went well, they would end up becoming your own brothers-in-law, after all.

But that could wait until you finally had Albert’s affections all to yourself.

#moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #albert moriarty #albert moriarty x reader #kat writes #IT'S FINALLY HERE #Honestly I'm so happy with this one :3

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goldsbitch · 3 months

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That next Christmas flight

epilogue p.1 to That one Christmas flight

summary: Few months down the line, Y/N is getting onto the same Christmas flight as a completely changed girl.

warning: cheesy af, swear words I guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely

Another Christmas flight. Traditions linger long and strong no matter how much one tries to resist. It's been a year precisely since the last flight that had turned her life upside down and Y/N found herself standing at the same airport where she shared a first kiss with Lando. Except this time she was thrown off for a completely less glamorous reason, sitting all confused and looking at the cancelled note next to her flight number on the departure board. She was just one of the other anxious annoyed passangers, trying to figure out how to get to Japan on time. Her mom hated when people were late. And she was sure she'll find a way to blame it on her. Bad planning, she'd always say. Love comes in different flavors to anyone, Y/N sighed, looking forward to seeing her mom after so many months, which had brought a rollercoaster of unexpected emotions.

She has had the summer of her life, hard to imagine something topping this one. The ultimate love affair - exciting, sweet and eye opening. Made her question everything she thought about adult life. All those love song suddenly made sense. She understood why people do crazy things for love. There wasn't a cell in her body regretting getting her summer and early September got stolen by one guy. It would not have mattered if he was a server from a local café or a tattoo artist, he just happened to be one of the most famous racing drivers on the planet. She had followed him around his trips as long as her school schedule allowed, making new friends in the process and generally exploring a different way of life. Sometimes, she had to stop in order to take it all in, because his world shined just a little too bright. It took all of her free time to keep up. Once summer rolled to its very end, it started being harder for the pair. Coming back to the school environment was somewhat of a culture shock and suddenly her having her own life was making it harder to drop everything and meet him at yet another race track around the world. Their schedules seemed to be working against each other. Late night cuddles turned into late night / morning calls. Summer romance got a real hard test that October and was forced to mature real quick. And sadly, very few love affairs manage to survive this leap.

There are little things that people in love do for each other. One does not often realize that the other person had been doing these mundane gestures until they are out of sight. Lando would always put Y/N's airpods on the charger when they were together, because he knew that she would just never do that and then would complain about it endlessly. He was even looking forward to the annoyed text she'd send him two days after they parted, almost on the clock. Y/N never learned. Nor did she want to.

Y/N airpods were sitting in the pocket of her coat. Fully charged. Lando and Y/N had never spent more time together than this winter break. After few rough weeks, they got used to the changing tone of their relationship. She finally met his family and spent few very fun days at their house. Lando made fun of her afterwards, because she had been so nervous to fuck it up. He never doubted that she would do a good impression - he loved too much to think that.

Pair of hands hugged her from behind and the familiarity kicked in.

"Thought you got lost, honey," she greeted her boyfriend and potentially the love of her life (spoiler alert - yes, he really was).

"I actually kind of did, I'm sure there must be a bathroom closer that all the way back that hallway," he said, kissing her cheek softly. She was taking him home to Japan to get him introduced to her mom, which made him the proudest guy at that airport. He was worthy of getting introduced and to him, that was the biggest compliment one could give. It had been quite a hectic Christmas break for Lando so far, if he were to be honest, he was happy to get few hours alone with Y/N. On the outside, he was this cool racer chill dude. But he was also a sappy romantic, absolutely insisting on having them celebrate their anniversary on the same flight. Y/N grounded him, kept him at bay in the best way possible. He felt like the best version of himself. Which was also what he told her when they almost broke up over the phone one confusing November night. Their relationship was cut with difficult conversations and the need to untangle things, but it was strangely something Lando loved about their relationship. No stones left untouched, caring so much about each other that any shift in energy was a signal to the other party. Y/N taught him to notice things. He pushed her into making her feelings known.

"My love, our flight is cancelled for today," she said softly, not really knowing what to do. Lando usually had his travel booked by the team, so he was surprisingly not very skilled in booking things anymore. But he longed for any possibility to be the hero that saved the day, so he got to the counter and got them on tomorrow's flight, with an overnight at a hotel.

Y/N let out a sigh once he told her that there is currently no other option. She just wanted to be at her mom's place and show Lando off, like a proper proud girlfriend she was.

"I'm sorry, honey," he said, caressing her cheek. "I'll make sure you have an absolutely amazing evening with me, ok? Honestly, getting to spend an extra night with you alone is the best thing I could wish for." She looked at him and there was not a single cell in her body that would doubt what he was telling her. Even after months, every time Lando looked at her, her heart skipped a beat. Every time he embraced her, she completely melted. His skin still felt like the softest thing on this planet. His eyes were the bluest of green that had her mesmerised whenever he shared a glance at her. "There is nothing better I could wish for Christmas either," she said, kissing him softly. "Let's get to the hotel, give your mom a quick call, order a champagne and cuddle without letting anyone else know we're still in England," he whispered like a little devil on her shoulder.

"Hm, maybe we can cuddle like really fast," she insunuated, setting Lando's imagination on fire.

"I have many ideas, honey."

"Good, write them down."

"This will hardly ever skip my mind," Lando laughed lightly and the pair took off, with him having his shoulder around her, both of them hiding their faces under a cap. They soft launched their relationship in the middle of the summer, but there was still a cloud of mystery around Y/N, as she had made sure to set her socials on private. No more of a little secret hidden in a hotel room. Still, privacy was an important thing to the pair, that's why there was a whole fake social media trip happening for Lando right now to redirect attention.

So there they were, toasting with the same champagne a year later, lives intertwined and with their own set of Christmas traditions forming. Two young people with souls still undamaged by the tragedies of life, two young people not realizing how light and magical part of their life they got to call today and tomorrow. Next time you're flying somewhere, don' be a chicken and talk to your hot neighbor on the plane. You never know.

____________________________________________

personal note: thank you so much for all the support you guys gave me for this one, it has grown into my favorite story so far - mainly because I got to put in my own memories and feelings from when I accidentally started dating a semi famous sports guy while having no idea who he was, lol. it was in no way lando level kind of famous, but still, it is a great memory, so thank you for reliving it with me.

there will be blurbs of these two coming in the future, but i wanted to tie the main story to an end. but I can't wait to write more, so i'll be more than happy if you come back for some snap shots of their little moments. thank you - smutty epilogue p2. is on the way

Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1 @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother @goldenharrysworld @llando4norris @classiclitfreak @ophcelia @leclerc13 @starmanv @k4r1402 @biitch-with-wifi @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @starmanv @formulaal @scenesofobx

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blairrwaldorfs · 2 months

Text

High Infidelity

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Did you really have to chart the constellations in his eyes? Did you really have to tell him how he brought you back to life?

Author's Note: Babe by Taylor Swift, High Infidelity by Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift, My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift, Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift. I don't know... I don't know... I don't know. My mind is all over the place the past week and needed to write this down for some distraction. I don't know... I never done a back to back series nor have written something like this, so yeah. Forgive me for all the trigger warnings. Everything is all so crazy. This is a very very hard thing to write because of past emotional abuse experiences in real life that still terrorizes me and maybe it's a letter for the past experience to let it go.

Disclaimer: 18+, emotional abuse, mention of harming, infidelity

(Please, please don't read this if it triggers you. I need you all to think hard about it before reading this one. This is a bit of a dark fic).

Wordcount: 3.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - epilogue

“Late again?”

Your boyfriend, Eli, asked you the moment you entered the flat. You were kicking off your shoes by the front door, eyes full of exhaustion as you sighed. He was by the kitchen heating up some leftovers. You didn’t exactly understand how it was “late” because technically it was only 9pm.

“Yeah, the event went pretty late.” You replied.

You technically left the event early knowing that Eli would start asking where you were. That was how he was these days. Keeping count of everything you did.

You were technically not an official assistant in the team. You just started this job, and it was more of a paid internship that you applied to because you needed the money, and it paid really well. You worked for Joseph Quinn’s team. A British actor who got pushed into the limelight too fast after his appearance in Stranger Things.

Joe was nice. His team was nice and very organized and all you had to do was bring Joe’s things, get coffee, and help his team organize whatever they needed for Joe.

That was all.

Nothing too complicated.

Nothing for you to really complain about nor do something that could ruin this whole internship that you applied for.

Well, at least that was what you thought.

“That’s a nice dress.” Eli stepped out of the kitchen, his eyes studying you as he ate a piece of chicken.

For some reason, his eyes studying you like that made you feel angry and annoyed. It wasn’t like he was doing anything to you, but the tone of his voice was making you feel annoyed.

“Thanks. I’ll go freshen up.” You gave him a small smile, giving him a quick peck on the lips before heading down the hall.

“I’m sure many men were staring at you tonight.” Eli added his little comment that made you stop halfway from your steps and looked over your shoulder.

“I was just doing my job, assisting.” You reassured him before continuing down the hall and into your bedroom.

You weren’t going to lie. Your relationship with Eli for the past two years has been rough. He was constantly jealous, constantly making rude comments about what you wear and how you wore your makeup to the point where you had stopped putting makeup on. You had changed your whole closet to just jeans, t-shirt or jumpers. You changed your whole style and personality because you didn’t want any trouble from Eli. You didn’t want to disappoint him.

However, this new job of yours came with the responsibility of dressing up and wearing makeup when you accompany Joe through the many events or movie premieres. That made Eli squirm even more for the last four months whenever you came home wearing a nice dress and nice makeup. He would comment how the dress was too short or the dress was too revealing.

“I wore a jacket, don’t worry.” You would tell him.

“Next time, pick one that isn’t so revealing.” Eli would scoff. “You’re mine. You don’t need other men looking at you.”

You could feel the love in your relationship was slowly fading, and you didn’t know how to get out of it. You were too scared to do something about it. Terrified even what he could react or say towards this decision of yours if you ever decided to cut this off. Eli had been very aggressive towards his words to you and sometimes, even if he wouldn’t say something, you could see the disappointment all over his face. You were a people pleaser, and you were the kind of person who didn’t want any trouble, so you tried to give what he wanted most of the time.

It made you hide inside yourself even more. It made you feel insecure. It made you terrified of every decision you made because you didn’t want to upset him. You didn’t want to see that reaction on his face even if his lips were saying something else. It made you feel like you were walking on broken glass every time.

Sliding yourself under the covers next to Eli that night, you saw his eyes studying you the moment you entered the room and brushed your hair in front of your vanity. His eyes never left you until you laid next to him. He immediately moved himself close to you and pulled you in his arms, hugging you from behind.

“So, how many more events do you have to go to?” He asked.

You sighed, closing your eyes. Eli was never interested in your job. You knew he was asking about it, so he knew what he was expecting. By that, it meant he would be monitoring the outfits that you would wear and the people that would be around you in that event.

“Not sure.” You murmured. “I’ll let you know once my supervisor lets me know.”

Eli lets out a soft hum and kisses you on your cheek before turning you to face him and kisses you roughly on the lips, towering over you. For a second, you went with it and kissed him back, pushing your body against his and letting him have what he wanted. He lets his soft fingers slide the strap of your tank top, kissing your bare shoulder. His lips found the skin of your neck as he softly sucked onto the skin, a small gasp escaping your lips.

“Babe.” You whispered, slowly pulling away. “I’m tired. I’m early tomorrow.”

Eli sighed, letting himself laid back down on the bed next to you.

“You’re always tired.” He argued. “The last time we had sex was last week.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just tired today, and I have to get up early tomorrow.” You turned your back on him, closing your eyes.

“Right.” Eli said sarcastically, getting up from the bed.

You looked over your shoulder, sitting up on the bed as he made his way towards the door.

“No, c’mon. Don’t be so upset.” You said.

You could see it all over his eyes that was getting upset, and you knew if you didn’t do something about this, he wouldn’t talk to you for the next two days. He would make up an excuse that he was busy and that he would be with his friends.

“Come here.” You reached your hand out to him as he paused in his tracks and stared at your hand.

He gave you a small smile and walked towards the side of your bed, taking your hand in his as he kissed you hungrily and towered over you on the bed. You let him touch you in all the ways he wanted to, but you just felt numb. You couldn’t breathe as you stared into the white ceiling and kissed him back softly, letting his fingers brush against your burning skin. You felt disassociated as he kissed you hungrily and pushed himself inside of you.

You felt nothing but disgusted with yourself for being so weak.

That was how you have been feeling lately with your relationship. You felt trapped and you felt like a chain has been around your neck lately, and Eli was pulling it every chance he got.

“Hey, could you go to the coffee shop down the block to get everyone coffee?” Alex, Joe’s manager, asked, interrupting your thoughts the next day.

“Uh…sure.” Alex handed you a piece of paper with everyone’s orders.

Your job was always simple but as time went on, your interaction with certain people became more frequent. In the beginning, Joe couldn’t even look at you nor acknowledge you that much unless he was thanking you for bringing him the things he needed. Then, Alex and his team had gotten busier that the things in your list were starting to add up. Part of your job has been added to “make sure Joe is in this place at a certain time,” or “make sure Joe wears this suit instead of this.”

Then, there was the chore that Alex would give you to make sure that his collar, tie or buttons on his shirt was perfect before he stepped out of the red carpet.

“Do you enjoy your job?” Joe had asked you that one time when you had sat on the sofa of his dressing room, waiting for the rest of his team to arrive.

“Sure.” Your voice almost sounded so monotone that Joe couldn’t even believe your answer.

He sat there and tilted his head at you, one brow raised and waited for your real answer. You let out a deep breath, closing the magazine that you were reading and set it back on the table.

“I guess it’s okay. Couldn’t complain.” You shrugged.

Joe let out a soft understanding hum and focused his attention back to his phone, scrolling his time away. He was getting ready for his movie premiere, and you were there to make sure that everything he needed was there. That he looked perfect right before he stepped out of the red carpet.

Not that you hated your job but sometimes, it could get so repetitive that you looked bored after the events. The rest of Joe’s team would go and prepare whatever they needed to, and you would just make sure Joe was fine. That he didn’t need anything.

“Here.” Joe handed you a glass of martini at the after party of the premiere.

“No, thanks. I’m technically still working.”

“And looked bored.” Joe’s face was a little too close to yours as he whispered those words.

You hesitated, your eyes scanning the room trying to look for a sign of Alex. Joe couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head.

“They went home. So, technically you’re the only one left here.” Joe answered the question that you were asking in your head. “C’mon. You deserve it for working so hard all the time.”

Pursing your lips, you stared at the glass that Joe was holding before finally taking it from his hand and taking a sip of it. Joe smiled and took a sip of his own drink, his eyes scanning the room before falling back to you.

“Are you usually this quiet?” Joe asked.

“I’m just doing my job.” You answered, a small smile creeping up on Joe’s face. “I don’t want to interrupt anyone.”

“You’re not interrupting me.” Joe smiled, taking another sip of his drink.

You could tell he already had a few drinks before this conversation. You continued to drink the glass of martini in your hand and didn’t reply a word to what Joe said. You could tell the alcohol was making him a little bolder, and he was trying to flirt. You didn’t want to step into any boundaries because first of all, it was inappropriate, and you didn’t want to lose this job either.

“So, how long have you been here in London?” Joe asked.

“About two years.” Your answers were plain and simple as Joe continued to play 20 questions with you.

By the end of the night, you both seemed to open up to each other a little bit more, and you were able to learn Joe more personally. The thing was that you didn’t realize that night was going to be a start of something new between you and him because ever since that event, Joe’s attention was on you most of the time. He would gaze down at you and give you small smiles, while you would fix his collar or tie before he stepped out onto the red carpet.

Then, during after parties, you would be left to babysit Joe, and you would notice how his eyes would catch your eyes across the room. You sat in the corner and minded your own business, your focus on your phone. However, Joe would walk towards you and catch your attention.

“Wanna dance?” Joe held out his hand.

You bit your lower lip and said, “I don’t dance, sorry.”

Joe sighed and sat next to you, his eyes lingering on the screen of your work phone.

“Whatever Alex is telling you to do can wait ‘til tomorrow.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have a full to-do list.”

Joe laughed softly, raising his brow at you. “A full to-do list? I’m the one who has to stand in front of those cameras and do the interviews, remember?”

Joe had a point.

Though, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “True.”

You and Joe would talk for the rest of the night. You both would laugh and tease each other. You both would start talking about personal things, and he somehow was able to understand you well. It made your heart swell a little bit.

It wasn’t right that you felt this way towards Joe because you were in a relationship. You could just easily let Joe know that you weren’t single and that whatever flirty tricks he was trying to do to you, it wouldn’t work. However, you kept dancing around that subject. You didn’t bother bringing that subject up and towards the end of the night, you both would start flirting a little bit more. Besides the fact that you were in a relationship, you also didn’t want to do anything unprofessional or inappropriate because at the end of the night, you were technically still working for Joe’s team and Joe. So, you tried your best not to lead him on.

That was until you had come home one night and found Eli waiting for you in the living room. You arrived home half an hour past nine, and he already looked upset the moment you had stepped inside the flat.

“Where have you been?” Eli’s tone of voice wasn’t what you liked at all.

“I’m sorry, I had to finish some things. I texted you I was going to be late.” You explained.

“No, you didn’t.” Eli argued.

“Yes, I did. Didn’t you get my message?” You knitted your brows, making sure your voice was calm because you didn’t want to upset him even more.

You watched Eli pick up his phone from the coffee table and looked down at it and let out a deep breath.

“You know, maybe you should look for another job if they keep making you stay up this late.”

You slid your coat off and hung it on the coat hanger and said, “It’s only 9:30. It’s not that late, Eli.”

You heard Eli scoff and shook his head. “So, you'd rather be with them than with me?”

You were confused.

Where did that subject came from?

You didn’t understand why Eli was acting like this. Shouldn’t he be more supportive about your career? Didn’t you tell him that you needed this job because you needed the money? What else did you have to say or do to make sure he would stop this jealousy thing because it was making you so exhausted.

“I… I didn’t say that.” You murmured.

“Maybe you just don’t love me the way I love you. Just tell me, and it’s fine. I’ll happily go.” Eli shrugged, looking down at the floor.

You walked towards him, taking his hands in yours. The guilt inside of you brewed in your stomach but at the same time, you wanted to vomit.

“I do love you. I told you that, remember? I love you.”

You felt nothing.

“Then, find another job… for me.” Eli looked into your eyes.

“I… I can’t. It’s hard to look for another job out there and this pays me well, while I’m able to learn the entertainment industry. You know how much I want a career in that industry.”

Eli’s eyes suddenly turned glum again. He slid his hands away from yours and exhaled sharply.

“Why would you even want to be in that industry? So you could be naked and show everyone that?”

You couldn’t understand what he was saying. You couldn't understand why he was acting like this.

“You know that’s not true!” You argued.

You were exhausted from explaining yourself over and over again, and he just didn’t believe you. You felt like whatever you did was never enough for him. Tears started welling up in your eyes as you watched Eli grab his car keys.

“Wh…Where are you going?” Your voice stuttered, terrified of what he might do.

“Obviously, you don’t love me. I mean… no one loves me, so what’s the point, right?”

You grabbed his hand, trying to take the keys away, but he had his hand in a fist as he tried to slide his hand away from your grip.

“No, stop! Please.” You begged, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Don’t do this.”

“If you love me, you’d do this for me.” Eli replied, his eyes hardened as he stared at you.

You didn’t say a word because what he was asking of you was impossible. You already had lost yourself and your dignity. Your job at the moment was the only thing that you have that could maybe help you get back up again. After a few seconds of not replying, Eli pulled his wrist away from your grip, shaking his head.

“If you find me dead on the road then that’s on you.” He stated before walking out the front door.

“Eli!” You cried out, running out the door, but it was too late as he had already gotten in the car and drove off.

Going back inside the flat, you laid on your bed that night, sobbing and questioning as to how you have gotten yourself into this situation. Questioning every decision you made as to why you were too weak to break this off.

What if you break this thing off, and Eli would actually harm himself? It would be all your fault like he said. What if no one could love you after this? What about the happy memories that the two of you had at the beginning? What if you would regret it at the end for letting him go? You knew you were the only one that he had left in his life. You couldn’t do that to him either. You couldn’t easily just get out.

You were trapped.

Stuck.

Frozen.

Around midnight, Eli had come back home. You weren’t asleep when he had entered the bedroom, but you had your eyes closed. How could you sleep after tonight? How were you able to have a peace of mind if he was out there? How would you know that he didn’t do anything to himself? It would be all your fault if something happened to him.

You just couldn’t shut your mouth and agreed with what he was asking, couldn’t you?

Feeling his arms wrapped around your torso, you felt him nuzzling your hair. You didn’t move. You couldn’t move. You knew he wasn’t going to apologize, so you didn’t try to hope for that. Eventually, he had fallen asleep, holding you that night. A tear rolled down your cheek as you covered your mouth with the palm of your hand to block out your sobs, so he wouldn’t wake up.

At this point, you didn’t know who you were anymore.

You just felt numb and lost, choking in your own tears.

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redbleedingrose · 1 year

Text

Always ~ Epilogue Part 1

Summary: You and Azriel have been best friends for years after you joined the inner circle as the top healer in Velaris. But with Elain and Nesta’s recent arrival, Azriel has begun to ignore your friendship in favor of being together with Elain. You are heartbroken, and it is Starfall where you will be confined in the house of wind with Azriel and Elain. Everything will be okay though… right? Word count: ~9.4K Warnings: Angst, minor spice, fluff, first time writing, some of it is unedited Masterlist, Part 7, Epilogue Part 2 A/N: I want to start off by saying, I am so sorry this took so long to come out with. I wanted it to be perfect, and part of that came with some writers block and partially due to some demotivation. Anyways, I hope that you all love this epilogue. I have a part 2 that will be out soon and then I will work on requests I have gotten. As always, please please please like, reblog and comment. I love hearing your guys' thoughts. It always means so so much to me.

1 Month Later

It had been a long day at the clinic, most of it was spent waiting in the morning, and then you were slammed with patients back to back with complicated medical histories, that were dealing with the frostbite from the winter cold. Last night, temperatures had dropped below freezing in Valeris, and the people of the city were wholly unprepared. Your healing magic was essentially drained, and you were practically racing to leave, eyes heavy with sleep, before Majda could call you back in to work with another patient.

You wrapped your dark cloak around your shoulders tightly, pulling up the hood to protect yourself from the frigid winter wind that had afflicted so many of your patients today. Usually, you loved the cold weather, especially when it was complemented with snowfall. But the wind… well… that was another story. You pushed the door to the clinic open with your gloved hand, pulling up your cobalt blue wool scarf wrapped around your neck to cover your nose which was already dripping a thin mucus. You were not looking forward to the journey back home despite being less than a mile walk back.

“Dove?”

Your heart jumped into your throat for a moment as the familiar husky voice called on you. It had been weeks since you had seen him, not for his lack of effort, but more-so because you weren’t ready. Last time you had spoken with Azriel, you had given him your permission to try and make it up to you. And for the first week, you were able to handle it. He visited you every night, until you couldn’t anymore.

And then you asked him for distance. For some time. Some space.

And he gave it to you.

But everyday, he came by the clinic, whenever he wasn’t away on a mission, patiently waiting to see if you wanted him to walk you home. Most days, you turned him away, reasoning with yourself that you were too tired, too busy and exhausted from your workload to deal with the emotions of seeing Az again. You loved him. There was no question in that statement. There was no doubt in that statement. You loved him with all of your heart, and you knew that you would continue to love him until the end of time. But… you weren’t ready to deal with the pain that love had brought you.

You inhaled a deep breath, letting the chill air spread throughout your lungs, cooling the heat that was forming within you. Inhale and exhale. Inhale and exhale. And again. And again. Slowly turning to peer over at the male who was standing a couple of feet away, his jaw clenched as he eyed your form, glancing up and down as if he was studying you. As if he was looking for something… as if he was trying to find any injuries. Even in his distance, you knew that Az had been keeping a watch on you, a friendly shadow of his slithering through the clinic as you worked, collecting information and judging any of the patients who walked through the front doors to be treated by you, following you home until you shut the door behind you, speedily returning to his master to report his findings. To report that you had arrived home, unharmed and safe.

He stood tall, wings tucked in tight against his back, probably to protect the membranous structures from the winter of Valeris, soaking in the heat that radiated so thoroughly off his body. In one gloved hand, Azriel clutched a small box, and in the other, he held a book that was nearly bursting at the seams, tiny papers sticking out, marking different pages, most likely lined with the thoughts of the shadowsinger as he read the book. “I– I just wanted to drop these off to you… warm almond croissants from your favorite cafe. I figured after a long day of work, it would be a nice treat.” The puffs of air that followed his words were visible in the cold weather, and he rocked back and forth on his toes looking like a young boy who was nervously awaiting a punishment. His eyes flickered back and forth between yours, a flash of hesitancy at your lack of response before taking a step forward, setting the annotated book on top of the box before holding it out to you, arm fully outstretched as if to keep his distance. “I uh… I read this book a couple of days ago. And it is a masterpiece… truly it… it was heartbreaking. But it was also one of the most beautiful stories I have ever read. I– I couldn’t stop thinking of you while reading it, so I noted everything that I noticed that I thought you would enjoy.”

The book was a long one, thick on its own. And the little papers the spymaster had stuck inside, held a small portion of the book open. He must’ve been thinking about you a lot if he had that many thoughts he wanted to share. This wasn’t a new thing for you two. Honestly, before Elain… before under the mountain even, you would spend entire evenings together reading stories that we had picked out for each other. It would take the entire night just to get through one book because of how often he would lean over to tell you his thoughts. So much so, you would give up reading your book all together, just so you could sit next to the male to watch his reactions as he read the story out loud. And then, the next night, you would read your book to him, allowing for him to observe your reactions in real time. You could tell that a lot of thought has gone into this small gift, this small token of reassurance that Az had remembered you, had thought of you in the time you had spent apart.

“It–,” he hesitated as he watched you gape at the gift he was holding out to you, faltering, thinking he had overstepped, “It’s a love story. I– I know it's a lot, you don’t have to–” The tip of his ears flushed a deep red in embarrassment at your hesitance, interpreting it as obvious discomfort, a stark contrast to his usual stoic nature that comes with being spymaster.

You didn't let him finish, clearing your throat to dislodge the small lump that had formed, grasping the box that he had extended out before he used his shadows to winnow it out of this plane of existence. “Thank you, Az.” Your voice rasped at the sudden buildup of emotion. Every small gesture Azriel made shook you to your core in general… but now, after avoiding him for a couple of weeks… it created an initial sense of fight or flight. But the warmth from his gesture had you sinking into the affection of his reminders pointing towards the love he held for you.

Part of you was still in disbelief that the male you had pined after for so long, had also been pining after you as well, had been loving you in secret.

Another part of you clung to the disbelief, the pain of his behavior on Starfall, and the months preceding. It had left a raw ulcer on your heart that was struggling to heal. You knew it would take time. It would take effort. From you. And from Azriel. This type of pain wouldn’t dissipate with one conversation.

And maybe fear that your mate would ignore you, leave you, for Elain still ran rampant in your dreams despite his endless apologies. The small gestures though… They meant something. To you at least.

He let you process your emotions, allowing for you to ask him whatever you had wanted without any deference in his answers. He gave you space when you needed it, and in that first week when you did allow him to be near you, he held you close, letting you fall apart in his arms, whispering his regret into your hair as he pressed kisses into your temple. And in those moments…

The moments he held you close… the moments he would give you a small token of his remembrance of you when you thought he had forgotten… the moments where he made the rest of the world disappear into an ether with only you two left behind in each other's presence… Those were the moments that had a part of you yearning to pull him close, yearning to let his shadows surround you and play with you however they willed, yearning to never let him go, yearning to murmur expressions of love into kisses you would press to his lips and olive skin, yearning to accept the bond that tied you two together.

But it wouldn’t be fair to brush over the wound he had caused you, when he was supposed to be the one person who never inflicted you with any sort of harm. So… you allowed the part of you clinging to the disbelief and pain to hold you together.

You hadn’t realized you had been standing in silence for a long moment, the book now pressed flush against your chest as you held it to you, the smell of the croissants wafted from the box that you had situated under your armpit. Azriel hadn’t moved either, a flash of desperation in his hazel eyes swarmed before slipping behind the walls he had no doubt built to soothe the ache he felt in his very bones since you had pulled away from him. He cleared his throat, taking in a deep breath, “I was hoping we could read it together. Like old times,” it came out hoarse, laced with fear of rejection, “What do you think?”

You watched as he held his breath, body stiffening as he awaited your response, preparing for a soft denial that would send him into a private spiral of self loathing. But you had spent a long couple of weeks distancing yourself from the male, a very very long couple of weeks. And it had left you exhausted.

You were exhausted. Exhausted from sitting in the pain. Exhausted from forcing yourself away. Because in all honesty? You wanted Azriel near. You hated being away from him, each second away worsened the ache instead of helping it. You wanted his apologies and explanations. You wanted him to make it up to you. You wanted him to lick at your wounds. You wanted him to whisper sweet nothings to make you forget. You wanted him to read to you in the soft voice he had reserved only for you. You wanted him to pull you into a sway as you cooked dinner together. You wanted him to hold you, kiss you. You wanted him to love on you.

And that meant letting go of the fear that had motivated and inspired the distance. That meant letting go of the fear that he might abandon you, a fear that hurt too deeply to think on too long. It meant having faith in the mother and gods above. It… it meant trusting Azriel. It meant trusting his friendship. It meant trusting his adoration for you, his devotion to you. It meant trusting and putting faith into his love and trusting the mating bond.

So, you freed your hand from the grip you had on the book, and took a small step forward, inhaling his scent that sends waves of comfort through you, before twining your fingers with his, his shadows immediately curling around your wrist, “C’mon Az, let's go home and read this book together.”

His jaw dropped, pupils dilating in shock, but he shook himself out of it, a shy smile lilting his face as he nodded in agreement, highlighting the tiny dimple on his left cheek. He slowly moved closer to you, studying your reaction, trying to figure out where your boundaries existed so he wouldn’t cross them, knowing that if he did… it would ruin it. It would ruin the moment you had given him.

You graced him with your own small smile, a heat rising to your cheeks involuntarily, giving him the go-ahead to press his palms into yours. The warmth of his gloved hand seeped into yours, you squeezed at his knuckles with your firm grip which he returned with his own gentle pressure, thumbing at the back of your hand as if he was savoring the weight of your hand in his. With his entire body right next to yours, you could feel the heat radiating off the male, and you unconsciously leaned into it, his warm presence protecting you from the chill of the evening. And then… and then you started to walk together towards your apartment in a comfortable silence.

2 Months Later

Every muscle in your body ached as you laid on the chase in the living room of the house of wind, eyes heavy with exhaustion. You weren’t sure what had you feeling so motivated this morning, but every bit of that feeling had dissipated the second training had started.

It was a rare thing really, to join the valkyries, Azriel, and Cassian this early in the morning. You were a healer, not a fighter. But Az had insisted that you join a couple of times a month to ensure you could, “look after yourself whenever I am not around.” You initially laughed him off, but it became quite clear the shadowsinger hadn’t been joking when his expression stayed flat, unmoving in his suggestion. You thought about arguing against it, but the worry he held in his eyes had your reservations sinking into the deepest part of the ocean, never to resurface.

So… when you woke up this morning feeling wide awake, you had tricked yourself into thinking, “why not?” and had made your way to the house of wind.

You quickly realized that had been a mistake.

With Azriel, you had expected for the male to be a harsh trainer. Of course he would be. He was the spymaster of the night court, darkness incarnate. You had expected nothing less. Which is why when Az and Cass asked who you would like to train with this morning, you had stupidly chosen Cassian.

In hindsight, maybe Az would have gone easier on you. Maybe he would have felt more sympathy towards your previous lack of training. Maybe he would have lessened the rigor of his training to accommodate you. Maybe he would have felt more mercy for his best friend, his mate.

In hindsight, you should’ve realized that Cassian would be just as strict with training, if not a little more. He is the general of the night court, commander of one of the best armies in Prythian. You should’ve realized Cass would have put you through the ringer, just because he could. Just because he would find it funny to watch you suffer.

But you hadn’t.

The brute had lulled you into a sense of ease at the start of training, the first hour was spent with him insisting on some stretching and correcting your form in different warrior positions. Something to do with correcting your balance, but at this point, you couldn’t force yourself to remember. When the other valkyries began to walk away, done with their training, you had followed thinking you were also done for the day, taking a couple of steps towards the water station to soothe the dryness that had formed in your throat. It was Cassian’s grip on your shoulder that prevented you from moving any further, “Where are you escaping off to little one? We still have more training,” with a smug smirk lilting his face, his muscled arms crossed over his chest.

You had looked at Azriel for help, forming a small pout of your lips, thinking the male would give in and save you from the torture you were about to experience. But the spymaster stared back at you with his eyebrows lifted, making no move to help you as he nodded back to Cassian, sending a tug of amusement down the bond, encouraging you to get back to training.

Gods, what a mistake that had been.

You should’ve just sent a vulgar gesture over at your mate, and made a run for your life.

But you gave into him.

The general had you running two miles, while the sun was blaring its unrelenting heat onto the exposed skin of your back, sending beads of sweat from your forehead down to your chin. You had stopped running at the half mile mark, opting to continue in a light jog only to spite the general who was yelling at you to move faster from across the ring.

You had nearly collapsed when you finished, clutching at your cramped side while Az and Cass made their way towards you, large grins spanning across their faces, clearly finding your near death experience amusing. You couldn’t even find the energy to push Cass off you when he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Walk it off little one, walk it off.” You immediately lifted your hand into the most vulgar gesture you could think of, groaning miserably in response. Az snickered offering you a small bottle filled with ice cold water in respite. You growled despite the sound from the shadowsinger sending tingles throughout your body, “Shut up before I kill you both.” The pants you were letting out interrupted you after every word, snatching the bottle from Az’s outstretched hand. Cassian roared with laughter, shaking your body slightly as he wisely chose not to verbally reply. Your lips twitched when Az sent waves of pride down the bond; his shadows snaking around your exposed skin, reaching around your neck, pressing in cool whispers of touch against the warmth causing you to shiver slightly.

Only the three of you were left in the training ring by the time you had cooled down, finishing off the training with stretching and a half-hearted promise to Cassian you would never return to this hell-hole as Az trailed behind you. You collapsed onto the chaise where you currently lay, “I am going to die Az, what the fuck?”

His shoulders shook in laughter as he maneuvered your head off the couch, settling down where it once rested, and relaxing shoulders onto his lap. He ran his fingers through your damp hair, hazel eyes gleaming with amusement, “You are not gonna die dove, you just need some more training.” You bristled at the thought, all the muscles in your body began loosening at his ministrations, eyes fluttering shut to savor his scent as it began to consume you, “No way Az, that was a one and done type thing. Never again.”

His silence was calming, and his shadows hovered over you so gently, they hypnotized you into a dozing state, one half of you aware of your surroundings while the other half of you couldn't care less, as long as Az was with you. This had become a common occurrence in the past couple of weeks since you had invited him back to your home. You spent the entire night, sitting on the floor in front of the hearth, reading to each other different passages of the tragedy, analyzing his initial thoughts of the book, and listening to each of his new opinions, while adding your own. It had been a beautiful book, just like Azriel had mentioned. A story of two lovers who were separated by time, only to find each other once again. Your breathing had deepend, and you were moments away from giving into the sleep as you recalled the night with a sense of fondness stroking your heart.

“Please dove,” a soft whisper, so soft that you almost missed it. Almost. But Azriel’s hands had paused from running through your hair, and the tone he used was nearing on desperation. The sleep slipped away from you as you opened your eyes to find him staring down at you, his lips pressed together so tight that the blood drained from them. You sat up, turning to face him and pulling his hands into your lap, confused at his sudden distress as the beating of his heart raced so hard within his chest, you could hear it from where you were sitting, your attention alert and on fully him, wanting nothing more than to calm him, to soothe him like he had with you, “What’s wrong Az?”

He takes a shuddering breath, “I need you to be okay. I– I need you to be safe,” his hazel iris’ flicked back and forth locked on yours, “I want to always be there by your side… but it's unrealistic to say I will be with you at every moment of every day protecting you. None of this is easy. My job. My life. It has come with a lot of enemies. It has come with a lot of unexpected betrayals. And I just can’t let anything happen to you. So I need you to be able to protect yourself when I am not there. Because when Amarantha took you under the mountain, I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to protect you. And it is still something I haven’t been able to forgive myself for.” His brows furrowed, his grip on your hands tightening, squeezing once, twice, thrice. A shot of grief had your toes curling as he continued, “Everyday that you were gone was utter torture. Utter panic. The moment I couldn’t feel you anymore? I– I was in hysterics. Not knowing if you were okay… it is a feeling I never ever want to experience again. I need you. I can’t live with you. So… so I need you to do this training. For me. Okay, dove?”

You run your arms up his toned ones, skimming the veins and ridges with a light trace, wrapping them around his shoulders, hauling him into you. You rested your head against his shoulder right into his neck, breathing in his rich scent and rubbing at the tension he carried right between his wings, trying to ease the knots away. “Okay, Az.” You made the move to pull away so you could look him in the eyes and promise him you would continue the training, but he only tightened his grip around your waist, burying his face deep into your neck. You chuckled, shifting into his lap, your legs settling aside his thighs and tugging him even closer, just until your upper body was molding into his. You returned your face into the crook of his neck, enjoying the warmth he radiated.

Amarantha’s reign had left a lot of fae traumatized, and that included the fae who lived outside of the mountain. While you experienced the terror from within, Azriel was stuck outside, only the whispering of rumors giving him an idea of the kinds of suffering Rhys and you were subject to. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like for him. To hear the things your high lord and mate were dealing with, not even knowing if it was their reality and wondering if they were suffering worse, knowing they were trapped by a spell and not knowing if you would ever see them again… for fifty years, Azriel sat like a sitting duck in that feeling. Resenting himself because you had gone with Rhys instead of him. Resenting himself because he hadn’t protected you from Amarantha. That he couldn’t protect you… wouldn’t be able to while you were trapped suffering only mother knows what. Your heart ached at the thought of your roles being reversed. If it had been Azriel stuck under the mountain, a mating bond unknown to him while you were completely aware, to have that bond go silent for fifty years without any notice, to live without knowing if he was dead or alive… it made you stomach churn. So, you ran your fingers across his back, toward his neck, and into his hair. Playing with the ends as you clung to each other in the fear of losing each other, in the hope that it would never happen again during your lifetimes.

3 Months Later

Your day had started out so wonderfully. The sky was cloudy, indicating the rainy day that was ahead of you, and the morning doves were singing a beautiful song you could hear through your open balcony doors. The chilly breeze slipped into the room that freshened the humid air of summer, Azriel’s membranous wing that covered you both serving as a small barrier when the wind cooled your warm skin that was pressed against him. You smiled into his bare chest, his shadows swirling around you as his finger ran up and down your arm that was splayed across his waist. The way the spymaster was nuzzling his face into your hair had you wanting to pause time in this moment forever, content with the feeling of the pulses of affection you were sending each other through your bond.

The day prior had been spent with the shadowsinger, starting with the training you had forced yourself to continue to attend to soothe your mates nerves. After completing your exercises, Azriel would fly you out to a cafe overlooking the sidra, where you would spend the rest of the morning drinking black coffee, while teasing Az for drinking caramel lattes. The male had a secret sweet tooth that very few people knew about, and these were the types of things you had picked up on during your years of friendship. During your years of pining after the male. He would always order you an almond croissant to-go once you finished with your coffee, and would insist on walking you to your work at the clinic. He would press a soft kiss to your cheek, promising to pick you up when you were headed home for the night so you could cook dinner together.

It had become a routine. A perfect routine. A routine that had your heart nearly bursting with joy every time you thought of it. A routine that had Az spending nearly the entire day with you at least three times a week, if not more. A routine that had Az spending the night nearly three times a week, if not more.

Dinner last night had been roasted chicken and potatoes that were easy to cook, and deliciously mouth-watering. Instead of sitting across the table, Az slid into the seat next to you, wrapping his left arm around the back of your chair as you ate together in quiet conversation. It was these mundane moments, these moments that were spent with only you two, these moments that were consuming your thoughts throughout your day, Gods, they had the bond that tied you together singing. Once you finished, he would extend his arm out, whisk you out of your seat, and embrace you into a dance. His shadows would dance around you and their master, as you swayed together in silence, letting the bond serve as music for your souls.

The first night he did this, you wordlessly pulled him to your bedroom, pulling off his shirt and resting in bed with your head against his chest, his heartbeat lulling you into a sleep that was idled with dreams of him. And since that night, you spent nearly every night together. It had become a habit at this point. One that you didn’t want to break. One that you didn’t need to break. Because time and time again, these past couple of months, Azriel had spent every moment with you trying to prove his love to you. Trying to prove his devotion to you. Trying to prove his adoration for you. He would woo and charm you with his thoughtful gestures; walking you to and from work, dancing the night away with you, flying you over the sidra with his powerful wings so you could experience the night air tangle your hair, annotating the stories he read just for you, cooking dinner with you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you cuddled close to him, shifting his wings to wrap around you during the night so you wouldn’t feel the chill of the night. It was all so perfect. He was so perfect. And it was working.

You had fallen for the male years ago, and you found yourself falling all over again. Every day and night spent with Azriel was another minute, another second of you falling for him.

The silent peace was broken by the shadowsinger groaning into your hair, “Rhys wants us to join everyone for breakfast at River House,” no doubt the high lord had snuck beyond his mental shields to coax you both to the house of wind. He threw his muscled thigh over your legs, rolling you onto your back and trapping you beneath him. You were nearly breathless with his beauty, the morning chill had produced a small flush on his cheeks that wouldn’t have been visible if you weren’t so close to the male. Apparently he had noticed your gaping, smirking down at you and leaning down to press a gentle kiss onto the tip of your nose. You stared up, contemplating, trying to find the will to leave Azriel’s warmth to get dressed out of your pajamas and into something socially acceptable. You were coming up empty, scrunching your nose as the shadowsinger had moved to pressing kisses all over your face, “Maybe we should just skip it, Az, we can just stay in bed for the rest of the day and sleep,” your hand coming up to run your fingers through his silky ink hair in a small gesture to convince him.

“Don’t do this to me Dove,” nudging his nose against yours, “If we don’t get out of bed now, I don’t think we ever will,” the rasp in his morning voice had the hair on your arms standing at attention.

You leaned up, ready to brush your lips against his soft ones, blushing at the sense of giddiness that came with being around Azriel, that came with his charming advances towards you. Maybe you would keep him in bed with you forever, what could possibly be more pleasant than this?

“You better be on your way with your lovebird,” Rhysand purred into your mind, interrupting your moment of intimacy with a gasp, you managed to bonk your head into Az’s nose by the shock before slamming up your mental shields. He was knocked backwards slightly, grip on you loosening as apologies immediately began to spill from your lips. The flush that had marked your cheeks initially from the closeness of your mate had deepened and spread to your neck and ears in embarrassment, “Oh gods, Azriel, I am so sorry,” your hands reaching up to rub at his nose he was clutching, desperately pulling at his fingers to see if any blood was coming out. “It’s fine dove, I’m fine,” his shoulders shaking with laughter as he allowed you to press at his nose, hazel eyes stared down at you with mirth looking completely smitten and endeared by your worry shifted to something more subdued, “I didn’t do something to make you uncomfortable right?”

Your heart jumped at his question. Your conversations continued the night you had found out you were mates, sifting through different concerns you had, including discussions of boundaries you had wanted to set as you took the time to process your new relationship. As you took the time to process his side of the story, his apologies, his want for something more with you. You wanted space from him, you wanted to give yourself the time to grieve the period you had lost with him, including under the mountain, including the months prior. And he had respected that fully while making sure to still put in the effort of building towards something more. Each step you took, you took together in navigating the huge change that had come with Az being your mate.

The spymaster, true to his nature, had been patient with you. Answering every single question you had with complete honesty, with no excuse, only an explanation and a promise to be better. There were still some things that weighed heavily on you, things that still upset you, and you weren’t ready to accept the bond yet without discussing those things, without working through those things. But when you were ready, whenever that moment would come, you knew that Azriel wouldn’t push you away, he wouldn’t excuse his behavior that he had apologized for time and time again, behavior that he had acknowledged and assured you was wrong on his part. Throughout this entire process of rebuilding your relationship with the male from where you had left off, Azriel had only validated you. He had ensured that every step forward in your relationship had been something you were comfortable with, and you knew that he feared violating any of the boundaries you had laid down.

“No Az, it was Rhys, he was calling on his to join everyone and I guess he just surprised me,” you murmured, smiling softly at the male to reassure him that he had been within his limits, the tips of your fingers danced over his nose, using bits of your healing magic to soothe any ache that would form later in the day from the sudden pressure. He only hummed, wings flaring at the sensation of your touch, spanning across the length of your bed. When you decided you were content with your healing, the shadowsinger moved to kiss the tips of your fingers before lifting himself off you, pulling you up with him, “Come my dove, don’t want Rhys to rip our heads off for being too late.”

You had dressed yourself into a navy blue dress that had extended to your ankles, cinching at the waist and flowing over your hips while Az had dressed into his leathers that had been strewn across your hardwood floors quickly, allowing for him to fly you to River House. It would be the first time since Starfall that you would be seeing everyone all together, much to Rhys’ chagrin, and part of that brought slight anxiety at seeing the one person you had been avoiding since the start of this all, slight anxiety at seeing Az interact with her. You tried to push it out of your mind, mindful of taking a couple of deep breaths, as you entered the sunroom that Rhys had opted to have breakfast in this morning. The clouds had cleared up, and the rays of warm sun heated the room into a comfortable temperature.

You stiffened when you noticed the pointed look Morr was sending you, the only two empty seats that had remained was one to Elain’s left and one directly in front of that chair next to Cassian. You tried to suppress the grimace that you knew had probably already flashed across your face, pointedly ignoring Azriel, who had turned to watch you, as you made your way towards the seat open next to Cass. You cleared your throat, rasping out a greeting before taking a couple of sips from the full champagne glass. Azriel moved to his seat next to Elain, though his eyes remained trained on you, murmuring out his own greeting to the table. You carefully avoided eye contact with him, putting up a small wall around the bond, annoyed that you had once again found yourself in a position of discomfort, despite Az not being the one to blame. It is not like he had known this would’ve happened, nor did he make the move to sit next to her until you had already placed yourself next to Cass, leaving the only bare seat next to her. Discomfort and apprehension snaked through you as you recalled the events of Starfall, eerily mimicking today’s set up, pushing it to the back of your mind as Rhys waved at everyone to begin their meal.

You had stayed quiet for the most part of the meal, stirring in the flashbacks of the argument you had with Az during Starfall leaving a lump in your throat. You only responded to Cassian's teasing, trying to muster up your own smirk and fiery response like usual, but came up short every time he tried engaging you. Azriel had taken to observing you, his shadows swirled around your wrist, trying to grab at your attention, but you weren’t in the mood to have the discussion you so desperately had put off until now in front of the inner circle.

The conversation about Elain had been one you had with Azriel a couple of different times, but usually at a surface level, the pain still feeling too raw to discuss in depth. Everytime the shadowsinger tried to explore further your concerns, knowing this had been a huge point of contention in your relationship with the male, you sheepishly redirected the conversation to other topics. And graciously, your mate had let you. It wasn’t that you still feared he would leave you or ignore you again, that much had been made clear by his efforts these past couple of months in rebuilding the relationship you once had, and furthering it. But… but it still hurt. You had felt… you had felt abandoned by him. Like… like you had meant nothing. Like the years of friendship had meant nothing. And every time you thought about it, a sharp pain would course through your body and would settle in your chest.

And you knew he hadn’t meant to make you feel that way. That he was trying his best to make something good out of a poor situation. That he was struggling with his own feelings, that he was struggling with accepting the fact he had “failed” his mate in his own words. You knew that he had tried his best with Elain, maybe because he wasn’t able to help you the way he wanted, despite the endless support he gave you after under the mountain.

But he had made you feel that way. And it was a difficult feeling to look past, to get over. And maybe… maybe you didn’t want to get over it. As wrong as it sounds, part of you had this pain to cling to. And maybe you were afraid the pain would never go away… and maybe that is why you couldn’t bring yourself to let go. Because if you did let go, let Azriel explain, let Azriel attempt to make it better, to give Azriel the chance to be better, and the pain stayed?

Well, you weren’t sure if you could live with that.

Az nudged his foot against yours, interlocking your leg between his, and you finally allowed yourself to give into the urge to glance at him. His hazel eyes stared back at you in concern and distress, probably feeling the wall that you had built up around the bond as he attempted to contact you, to reach out to you, to reassure you that he was here with you, and as you attempted to smile back at him through the lump in your throat, you couldn’t help but think that maybe it was time to confront these feelings head on. Confront Azriel head on. Because he wasn’t blameless, and he shouldn’t be treated as such. Because he had taken responsibility, and you knew he would continue to take responsibility. Because he was being better.

Because he was trying.

And maybe, you could try too.

You self regulated for the rest of the meal through deep breathing techniques Nesta had been ingrained into your training, “I am the rock against which the surf crashes,” in and out, in and out. Az’s shadows twirled through your hair, leaving cool carrases against your neck, one source of reassurance, and the other being that the shadowsinger had hardly acknowledged Elain as she awkwardly glanced at the two of you back and forth. You quietly thanked Feyre and Rhys for the meal, creating a mental note to explain to the high lord and lady everything that had happened in the past couple of months later, knowing that they were missing your presence, missing Az’s presence. You stood with your hand held out to Az to grasp onto, promptly winnowing you both back to your apartment.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

You wordlessly dragged Azriel into the living room, sitting down on the carpeted floor, facing the window that overlooked the sidra. When he had settled next to you, he wrapped an arm around you, squeezing at your shoulder before rubbing his scarred hand up and down, “Are you okay?”

You screwed your eyes shut as tears began to line the corner of your eyes, the lump in your throat tightening so hard, it made it almost impossible to breathe. In and out. In and out. “I am the rock against which the surf crashes,” again and again and again. You tried to hold yourself back. Tried to hold in your tears. You hadn’t cried in front of Az in a while… his efforts… they hadn’t gone unnoticed by you. In fact, you had taken his efforts in stride, using them as a means to sweep your feelings under the rug despite his constant reminders that he didn’t want you to do that. That he wanted to talk to you about anything and everything. That he wanted to apologize and make it up to you. That he loved you. That he would spend the rest of his lifetime proving it to you, every day, every minute, and every second.

One of his wings came around your form, wrapping you up in his radiating warmth, and you relaxed into his side, silently observing the way the rays of sun peeked through the thin membrane as the feeling of holding back became almost unbearable. “Dove?”

Your body shook as you snuffled, hot tears streaming down your cheeks, collecting at the tip of your chin and spilling onto the point between your collarbones. “The moments we used to share. Before Elain? The ones that were intimate. That were supposed to be between us. You shared with her, and it kills me. It kills me that you did what you did Az. I don’t know how to forgive you. I don’t know if I can. If I ever will. Because I-... because in that moment Az, I wanted to hate you for it. And gods, I hated her for it,” you felt it. All of it. All the pain that had been building. The pain that you hadn’t acknowledged. The pain you had avoided. The pain Azriel had wanted to address, but anytime he would try, you would shut him out. And all that pain… it had built into a rage. A painful, aching, heartbreaking rage. “How? How could you do that to me? I mean- did you even miss me? When you were with her, being her friend. When I needed you. When you ignored me. Did you miss me? Did you even care that you were hurting me? You were such an asshole. You were such a fucking asshole on Starfall. Your words still fucking haunt me. They haunt me in my fucking dreams.”

It came out in hard sobs, each word interrupted by a shudder of your body. At some point during your speech, you had yanked his arm off of you, pushing away to face him as you let the angry words spill out like a river flowing into an open lake. His wing once wrapped around you was pulled tightly against his back, and the sun that had once been soaking it in warmth had disappeared behind clouds as rain began pouring outside. And with each word, each shudder, each tear, each sob, you could see Azriel’s heart shatter into pieces before you as his hazel eyes stared back in anguish, his own tears flooding into his eyes, not interrupting you, not moving to hold you knowing you would likely push him away, letting you let all your anger and pain and hurt out. Taking the brunt of it head on. Because… because if this is what you needed to feel better, then he would always take the brunt of it head on for you. Because if hating him is what you needed, then he would let you hate him, even if it tore him to pieces.

“ ‘I think your fucking jealous of Elain. Jealous that she is getting the attention that you want… That is so fucked up of you… So stop with this utter bullshit of whatever pity party you are having…’ Those were the exact fucking words you used Azriel, how could I ever, ever forget that? And yes. Yes, I was fucking jealous. And I get it, she went through something traumatizing. And you were trying to be there for her. But that didn’t mean you had to shut me out. You- you were supposed to always be there Azriel. You were my best friend. And you… you abandoned me. You told me my feelings were fucked up. That I needed to get over my bullshit pity party? And the entire time, you knew we were mates and you didn’t tell me. Do you not see how utterly fucked up that is? Like you quite literally broke my heart. I couldn’t get out of bed for days after. I mean… did you not tell me because you- did you not want me?” The next words had bile rising to your throat, your deepest insecurities being exposed to Azriel in this moment, your entire being became small as you whispered the next words, flicking your eyes that were clouded with tears back and forth to gaze into his, “Did you… did you want her instead?”

And there it was.

Right there.

Everything that you had held back for the better part of the three months you had known he belonged to you, everything you had held back since Starfall. Months upon months of insecurity. Months of anguish over the love of your life who had caused you this pain. But you wanted to- no you needed to know what he was thinking. Because even if he was drunk that night, even if he said those words in anger… they were unacceptable. And you would not stand for it. And he needed to know that. He needed to know that if you ever moved forward… you would never ever let him speak to you that way again. Because you and him both know that you deserve better than that.

“No.” Resounding. Definite. Said like an indisputable fact.

Azriel’s shadows had disappeared the moment you started rambling, deserting their master for what was probably the first time in the shadowsinger’s life since they became servant to him. His eyes were tinged red, blinking to force his tears away. He took a deep breath, wings tucked in so close, it looked painfully tight. His lips were pressed together, holding his open palms out to you, praying to the mother and all the gods above that you would reach out and hold them. And his prayers were answered.

Even in this moment of anger and rage and unbearable pain, you reached out to him. Letting your mate ground you. His eyebrows furrowed, his face mirroring his earnesty, “I did not want Elain. Nor will I ever want her. Her beauty is undeniable,” your heart seized as it dropped into your stomach, you nearly snatched your hands away but he didn’t let you, interlocking his fingers with yours, thumb grazing your knuckles, “But it will never, ever compare to yours. And I am sorry. So so so fucking sorry, that I ever made you feel like it did. I offered her my friendship, and absolutely nothing more, my love. Because my heart. My soul. My entire being. It all belongs to you. It always has, since the moment I met you.” He reached up speaking with such fervor, brushing your hair back behind your ear as he thumbed at your tears, stroking your cheek, never breaking eye contact once, “I want to start by saying I never meant for it to seem as though I wanted her, but I know now how my actions lead you to feel that way. I will never, ever forgive myself for how I have made you feel, my love. I will spend the rest of my life apologizing and trying to make it up to you. And I am so fucking thankful, so fucking thankful, that you opened up to me. That you told me how you felt then and how you feel now. Because we haven’t been able to move forward, and now I understand why. I know why. And you don’t have to forgive me my dove. You don’t. What I did was inexcusable. It is unforgivable. I can only pray to the mother above, to the gods, and the cauldron that one day, you will find it in you to forgive me. And even if you don’t, that is okay because I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I- I stupidly thought I was doing the right thing. I thought at the time that I was doing the right thing in distancing myself from you, but I realize now, I recognize now that it was my own selfish need that caused me to distance myself from you.” You sniffed, not sure you fully were understanding what he meant. And he…

He huffed, turning his face to hide it against his shoulder, “Gods, I- I didn’t know how to be around you anymore. All I wanted to do was pull you into my arms and claim you as my mate. And I didn’t think you were ready. I knew that you hadn’t fully recovered from under the mountain, from the war. And I didn’t want to hurt you anymore by changing the friendship, the relationship we had. Because it seemed like you were content with it. And honestly? I was scared. I was so fucking scared that you wouldn’t want me, and I was scared that if I did tell you, I would lose you and your friendship. And I was worried about how you would deal with the loss of our friendship. And now? Now I scoff at my own stupidity. My own failure.” His jaw clenched so hard, you could hear the grit of his teeth as he ground down. He reached his hands up to rest against your neck as he pulled you in, resting his forehead against yours, focusing his hazel iris’ into yours, staring deeply, intently.

“Y/N, my love, my light, my mate… of course I missed you. I fucking ached for you. I still fucking ache for you. I have missed you since you went under the mountain, I have missed you since you came back, I have missed you since the war, I have missed you since Starfall and every day since. Anytime spent away from you is agony that I can’t help but think I deserve. Agony that I brought on by my own actions. And yes, I was an asshole. Starfall… it was one of the worst nights of my existence beyond the five decades of you being trapped by Amarantha. I… I said some horrific things to you. I was drunk, and I was angry at myself for pushing you away, and I was terribly jealous that you had spent the evening with Lucien. It is no excuse. I could feel it… your anger… your pain… I didn’t know what to do with it. Because yet again, I had failed you. Failed in protecting you. Failed in making you content, in making you happy. And the fury I felt was supposed to be direct at me. I hated myself, deeply, in that moment. And it fucking- it ravaged everything around me including you. Those words I said… I wish I could take them back. I wish I could turn back the clock, and go back to that balcony, and pull you close and hold you, and promise you to never hurt you again. I wish I could do that, but I can’t. Words… words like that, they can’t be taken back. They are something that I have to live with. But you… you have the option of choosing, dove. You have the option of choosing to live with them, of choosing me and all my mistakes that I have made in the past and will make in the future with the knowledge that I will spend my existence trying to make the love I give you outshine those mistakes, or– or you could… you could choose to let my mistakes pull you away from me, let my mistakes be the reason you… you reject me. And gods, I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Because I have made a lot of mistakes when it comes to you, my love. And I will probably make some more. All I can do is promise you myself. Promise you that I will live for you. Live to make you happy. Live to make you safe and protected. And Gods, even if you do choose to reject me, I will still make these promises to you. Because it wouldn’t change how I feel about you. Not one bit. I was supposed to be your best friend. And yes, I broke your heart. But I never abandoned you. Not once. I would check on you. Every night. I would check on you after you had fallen asleep. I would stand out on that balcony for hours, ensuring that you were resting well. I warded off your apartment from danger… I had Helion show me a couple of spells, and it was fucking hard but I did it. Because I needed you safe. And my shadows would sneak under the door and check the kitchen to ensure dirty dishes were present in the sink so I could know you had eaten that day. I would read books and annotate them, thinking about you, saving them for the next time I would see you finished with your own. I- I know I should've been more present. I should’ve been more courageous. I should have told you the day I found out we were mates. And I am sorry, so fucking sorry I didn’t. And I know this isn’t the last conversation we will have about this, nor do I intend to let it be. I want you to feel secure in our relationship moving forward. I want you to know there will never ever be anyone else in my life besides you. Even if you don’t want me anymore. I will give you some time to think on it. I would wait an eternity for even a taste of the sweetness of your love. And I will keep trying, every day, to show you how much I love you. Okay?”

He was nearly out of breath by the time he had finished speaking, sucking in your exhales for reprieve, baring out his soul to you. Yes. He had made mistakes. He is not a perfect male. And he never will be a perfect male, and it is not right to expect him to be. Because at the end of the day, everyone makes mistakes. And he was leaving it up to you. He was giving you the option. Wording it so beautifully, so truthfully, letting you know that either way, whatever you chose, he would always be there to put his life on the line for your happiness, even if that happiness was without him. Your heart had skipped a couple of beats, knowing that Azriel hadn’t forgotten you. That he had come by, even if you were asleep and unknowing. That he had looked after you to make sure you were getting better, that he had learned incredibly difficult warding spells by Helion just to protect you. Even while he was making mistakes, bouts of his love would shine through the darkness surrounding you. And he was giving you time… time to decide what you wanted out of your relationship. If you could find the strength to forgive him, to move on, to never forget his mistakes and hold him accountable, but to let his love be the center of his decision making, let his love be the dominating thing you clung to instead of fear. “Okay, Az,” closing your eyes, relishing the feeling of his chapped lips brushing on your forehead in silent thanks.

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theetherealbloom · 5 months

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UNEVEN ODDS - CH. 9 (Epilogue)

Chapter 9 (Epilogue): There’s Some Kind Of Heaven Just Around The Corner

Summary: The Reader is dragged into the Last of Us universe and has no choice but to watch the events unfold or will she be able to change what was already written?

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age-gap Romance, Violence, ANGST, Swearing, Suicide, FLUFF, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, the pandemic, character death, INFECTED, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing, TLOU is dark please read at your own risk!

Word Count: 2k

A/N: After many months of not writing, I present to you the epilogue of S1 for TLOU. Thank you for sticking by me with my silly little stories, I can never express how grateful I am to have you all. I’m horrified and excited at the thought of S2, maybe the reader could change the important ending… who knows. Stay safe everyone <3

Song: Intermission by Sleeping At Last

Previous Chapter -> Season 2 | Series Masterlist

TLOU WORLD 2023

SILVER LAKE, COLORADO TO SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH – A FEW WEEKS LATER…

The cool breeze of the evening brushes against your face as you sit on the porch of the farmhouse, strumming the strings of the guitar Joel now treasures. The people of Jackson have embraced you warmly, welcoming you back into their community. The topic of the Fireflies remains unspoken, a shared understanding between you and Joel. It lingers in the background, a memory that only surfaces when necessary.

Life in Jackson has brought a sense of normalcy, a semblance of the life you had before the chaos consumed the world. But this time, it's different. This time, you feel like you belong, like you are loved. The little family you've formed with Joel and Ellie has found solace within the walls of this farmhouse. As the seasons pass by, a routine settles in, and the farmhouse pulses with life, as if it has its own heartbeat.

The bugs begin to retreat once again, signaling the transition from summer to autumn. You find yourself on the porch, the guitar resting gently on your lap. It was a gift for Joel, a token of appreciation and love, but it also earned you a playful scolding. Joel made it clear that you should never leave Jackson without informing him first. It was a testament to his protectiveness, a reminder of the bond that has grown between you.

At this moment, the world seems so simple. The rush of blood through your veins transports you back to your youth, when fear and uncertainty were distant notions. Seventeen again, you find yourself unafraid of death, daring to dream once more. The curve of the valley before you holds a profound meaning. Happiness emanates from within as you gaze at the serene surroundings.

As the words echo in your mind, they bring a smile to your face. Joel's voice resounds in your memory, "I'll never let you go." Those five words hold a depth of emotion, a promise that transcends the hardships you've endured. In this tranquil moment, you realize that you have found a home, a place where love and safety intertwine. You are content, knowing that Joel is by your side, ready to face whatever challenges may come.

The future may hold uncertainties, but for now, you bask in the stillness, cherishing the connection that binds you and Joel together. The world may be broken, but within the embrace of this farmhouse, you have found solace, love, and a renewed sense of purpose. And as you continue to strum the guitar, the notes reverberate through the air, carrying the harmony of your newfound happiness into the world.

Lost in the nostalgic melody, you find yourself humming a tune that holds a special place in your heart. The tranquility of the moment is interrupted by the gentle reminder that you're wearing one of Joel's shirts, two sizes too big. It's a simple gesture, a symbol of the closeness you share, but it also serves as a reminder that nothing is certain in this world. Doubts linger, even as you begin to feel at home.

The passing year has been arduous, and its weight lingers in your mind. The slow progress makes you question if you're truly moving forward. Trust is a scarce commodity, earned by only a select few. The scars etched upon your bodies, remnants of battles fought in your youth, serve as a constant reminder of the dangers that persist. And yet, the revelation of a collapsing sun and rising seas, of crumbling buildings, brought about a new understanding of the fragility of existence.

As you continue strumming and humming, Joel stands by the door, captivated by the beauty that radiates from you. The sun begins its descent on the southern horizon, casting a warm glow on the scene. Unable to resist any longer, Joel quietly approaches, his footsteps barely audible. He wraps his arms around your waist, his presence causing you to giggle. His lips press against the side of your neck, the scruff of his chin tickling your skin.

"Joel!" you playfully chide, a mixture of surprise and delight in your voice. He responds with a hum, his voice filled with affection, "My sweet Birdie..."

You quickly place the guitar on the side, and in that tender moment, you realize that despite the uncertainties and doubts that surround you, you have found a sanctuary in each other. Joel's embrace offers a sense of security, a refuge from the storms that rage outside. You feel a rush of gratitude for the love you've found amidst the chaos, and a renewed determination to protect what you hold dear.

Basking in the warmth of Joel's affection, you turn your head to meet his gaze, curiosity tugging at your thoughts. "How was the patrol today?" you inquire, wanting to know about the world beyond the safety of Jackson's walls.

Joel plants gentle kisses on the side of your head, your cheek, and finally on your lips, his love conveyed through each tender touch. His gaze locks with yours, his southern accent subtly peeking through as he responds, "Today was good, darlin'. Nothin' for your pretty head to worry about."

A sense of relief washes over you, knowing that for at least one day, the dangers that loom outside haven't posed a threat. But your thoughts naturally drift to Ellie, the young woman who has become an integral part of your lives. You can't help but bring her up, knowing that Joel's bond with her is unbreakable.

"What about Ellie? How's she doing?" you ask, genuine concern lacing your words. Ellie's resilience and determination have become a source of inspiration, even amidst the darkest of times.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of Joel's lips as he replies, his voice filled with fondness, "Ellie's holdin' up. Been keepin' busy, learnin' new skills, and takin' care of herself. She's got that fire in her, just like you."

The mention of Ellie's fiery spirit brings a wave of admiration. You can't help but feel proud of her growth, of the strength she embodies. In this broken world, the relationships you've forged hold immense importance, anchoring you to hope and reminding you of the enduring power of love.

Nestling closer to Joel, you rest your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart a soothing lullaby. "I'm glad she's finding her way," you murmur softly, your voice filled with genuine affection. "We're lucky to have her in our lives."

Joel's arms tighten around you, his voice brimming with tenderness as he responds, "Ain't that the truth, darlin'. We're blessed to have each other, and no matter what comes our way, we'll face it together."

Feeling a surge of love for Joel, you lift your head from his chest to meet his gaze. The twinkle in his eyes tells a story of unwavering devotion, and a mischievous grin plays upon his lips. You can't help but become enveloped in his warmth, finding solace in his presence.

"I don't tell you enough, Joel," you begin, your voice filled with sincerity, "but you mean the world to me. I love you.”

Joel's expression softens, his gaze locked with yours. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle yet purposeful. "You know, darlin'," he replies, his voice slightly husky, "you mean the world to me too. There ain't a day that goes by where I don't thank my lucky stars for bringin' you into my life."

The vulnerability in Joel's words tugs at your heartstrings, and you lean in, pressing a tender kiss against his lips. It's a gentle affirmation of the love that binds you together, a silent promise of forever.

As you pull back, a playful glimmer dances in Joel's eyes. "You know," he says, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, "I reckon I'm the luckiest man alive. Not only do I have the most beautiful person by my side, but I've also got a hell of a good kisser."

His words elicit a giggle from you, the sound filling the air with pure joy. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you whisper, "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Miller."

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, relishing the closeness and the unspoken language of love that flows between you. With each passing moment, the world outside fades into insignificance, leaving only the warmth and tenderness of this intimate connection.

A gentle breeze rustles the leaves overhead, the delicate dance of foliage creating a symphony of nature. Your fingers entwined with Joel's, each touch a testament to the warmth and tenderness that envelops you in this serene moment.

In the ambient glow of the evening, the air pulses with an almost tangible affection. The space between you and Joel becomes a canvas painted with an unspoken promise that transcends the limitations of words. In the delicate interplay of shared vulnerabilities and profound love, you find a sanctuary where the concept of time fades, replaced by the eternal embrace of this connection.

In this fleeting instance, bathed in the gentle twilight, you take solace in the richness of your conversation. Despite the shadows that loom from past events and the uncertainties that await, the presence of Joel beside you becomes a steadfast beacon, guiding you through the dimly lit corridors of life.

The embrace continues, a dance of shared whispers and laughter, a rhythmic exchange that weaves together the tapestry of your lives. Amidst the harshness of the world, the cocoon of your love becomes a refuge, a source of strength, and a testament to the formidable power of unity.

Yet, beneath the surface of this idyllic scene, a quiet ache persists, a shadow that lingers in the corners of your consciousness. There are nights when Joel lies peacefully asleep beside you, unaware of the storm that rages within your mind. In those quiet hours, memories materialize, hazy and elusive, casting a spectral glow on the canvas of your thoughts.

You can see him on the porch, the soft strains of a guitar accompanying the melancholic melody of your recollections. The air is charged with the bittersweet echoes of a past that refuses to be forgotten. There are nights when tears silently trace the contours of your face, the weight of remembered endings pressing upon your heart.

Joel, the silent guardian at your side, remains oblivious to the tempest within. His presence is a comfort, but the specter of a different ending, an alternate narrative, leaves you restless in the quiet hours of the night. The story, once written in ink, now seems to bleed into the realm of what-ifs and what-could-have-beens.

And so, in the embrace of the night, you grapple with the dichotomy of love and loss, finding solace in the tangible warmth of Joel's presence, even as the ghosts of untold stories linger in the shadows.

TAGLIST:

@memento-mora @elijahssuit @tartiflvtte @lillylilly2 @kyuupidwrites @amethystwonder11 @syd-vixious @kidkrow666 @soulofapatrick @ponyboys-sunsets @superflymaterial @chaotic-imposter @vainbimbo @eva-stark @loki-an-idiot @littleshadow17 @undermoonlightwalk @afternoon-evening @notmysunnydale @slurmp69 @gyllord @aerangi @mac5323 @friskynotebook @earth-to-lottie @chaotic-imposter @kodzuvk @hawkins-2000 @reallysparklychaos @trust-dreamcatcher @darkened-writer @memeorydotcom @welcomebackfelicia @rainbowpitofdoom @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @marvelsimpcz @dorck26 @evienorville @munsons-queen @little-miss-bi @mxltifxnd0m @ohjoelmiller @coalix @taestrwbrry @avengersheart @gyllord @valentine-babe@missdragon-1 @ponyboys-sunsets @ipadkidsworld @otternanamilolo @issybee0611 @technicallysassyfox @cupcakemachete @manuchyy @darkened-writer @andyrazzledazzle @glossythor @virtueassassin @witchy-jadda @imonmykneessir @norr1e @mando-bix @thicficbich1 @adoringanakin @lalla-04p @reallysparklychaos @hollywoodmariposa @mando-bix @lunatic1012 @davosmymaster

#joel miller x reader #etherealupdates #joel miller x female reader #joel miller masterlist #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #joel miller series #joel the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic rec

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heyidkyay · 8 months

Text

I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Epilogue

A/n: The finale. Heyyy, hope you all enjoyed the last update, I’m beyond grateful for all the love it got alongside the rest of this series, it means more than you’d realise. But I just had to indulge myself and write the epilogue too, made sense tbh and I really do love the way it went, there’s lot going on here and I feel like it was necessary to post! It’s just nearing 20k though so hopefully it’s enjoyable, there are a few different cut scenes, where we time jump, and one point where George gives us a little insight to the ongoings in his life, but overall it just shows the years after the end of 28. I loved writing this a whole lot but I am most thankful to @procrastinatinglikeapro for letting me annoy her with the emotions this brought up as well as giving me a place to bounce ideas around, so thank you, you lovely human:) Hopefully I can put you out of your misery now, and that the rest of you enjoy this last part? Thank you sm for reading! X

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Masterlist

Epilogue -

Dealing with a shit hand in life, had both its downsides as well as its ups.

With all the crap, the dirt, the anger and the grief, there also came perspective.

As in, the more you’d been shafted with, the easier it was to deal with the more mundane things life had to throw at you. Like when the washing machine broke mid-cycle and flooded the kitchen floor in early December. Or missing the tube into work and being nearly twenty minutes late for an important client’s meeting.

Even the times when all of your best mates, who were in a band, get suited and booted for a singular night, and then that said band goes on to win a Brit Award- only, you’ve gone and missed it all because you were stuck somewhere in a line to use the loo.

Yeah.

I swanned back over to our table in the mid-section just after, grateful that I’d had the foresight to check for loo-roll on the bottom of one of my heels as well as grab another champagne flute on my way over.

Wasn’t one for the stuff, in truth. Literally anything else would’ve been better, but alcohol was alcohol and my anxiety always got the best of me at these kind of events.

Even though I’d known the boys longer than the band had been formed, I hadn’t actually been to that many. This was my first one in quite a few years.

A small frown had etched itself onto my face by the time I made it over to our little section, the table was now half empty and not one of the boys were in sight- and I even ducked down slightly to see if they were pratting about beneath it too! But no such luck.

“Where’s everybody?” I asked Carly quietly, who’d been grinning like the cat that’d caught the cream before she turned to blink up at me. My forehead furrowed even further as I placed my glass down on the table top and took the seat beside her. “You alright? Is there something on my face or summat? You’re looking at me funny.”

She actually had the fucking nerve to laugh at me then, the cow.

“Oi, tell me!” I urged, swatting at her upper arm lightly after just having dragged my chair in.

“Only you, I swear.” Carly retorted, giggling freely now before she jutted her chin outwards, up towards the main stage. “You missed it, babe! They’re all up there!”

It was my turn to blink then, the alcohol slowing my ability to think functionally, before it finally hit me. My head snapped up towards the front of the room, where, low and behold, stood my four idiots.

Shit, I really needed to slow down.

But that was just a passing thought before I threw myself back up and out of my seat to whoop loudly for them, seemingly having lost all sense of decorum- or whatever it was that these toffpots loved to go on about- my anxiety having been well and truly chucked out the window.

The boys all appeared to glance over at me then, and I heard Carly snort behind an extravagant centrepiece just below me when the four of them laughed. Matty, the honest to God twat who was stood holding the award over by the mic, smirked though too, and it was so shit-eating that I could easily see it from across the floor. Instantly I knew what was coming.

“Oh and would you look at that, the wonderful Birdie has returned!” Matty shouted out, eyes squinting with the extremity of his grin as he leant in closer over the podium, “Where you been then, B? Missed it, sweetheart! Ross reckoned you popped to the loo’s- pretty snazzy, ain’t they?”

“Felt like a queen!” I quipped right back, apparently unable to bite my tongue.

The lot of them seemed to appreciate it though, as did some of the room.

“Our poor Georgie was a little lost on the way up, babe! But don’t worry, G, we’re all sorted now.” Matty teased, winking over at the drummer stood to his right. George rolled his eyes, but his mouth was curled to one side in a way that couldn’t be helped. “For everyone who doesn’t know the lovely Birdie! She has been with us sorry lot since the very start.”

“Before it.” Ross cut in from behind him, which sent Matty’s head nodding.

“Yeah! Before it even!” He corrected himself and then pointed the tip of their Brit award towards me, “Don’t think we could’ve made it this far without her, in truth. Probably would’ve had a big massive blow up and never have spoken to each other again, knowing us. But she’s the glue that binds us. Always.”

My heart swelled in my chest so much it almost hurt to breathe, and I couldn’t even bring myself to care for the hundreds of people sat in this room, never mind watching it all unfold on the tele, I’d just never felt so appreciated, especially upon seeing the rest of the boys all nod solemnly in agreement. I wiped haphazardly at my cheeks.

“But, as I was trying to say, long before we were all so rudely interrupted!” Matty went on, earning a round of chuckles throughout the arena. “We are beyond privileged to be here at all, and to have been nominated three times, too. Well, I ‘spose it just shows that we’re doing something right.”

I forced myself to sit back down at that and let the four of them carry on with their thanks. It was so beyond strange to sit through though, I don’t think it had ever really hit me just how much they’d grown and seeing them up there was all the proof I needed.

I thought back to the band practices, to the gigs in shitty dive bars and pubs, to touring and seeing them play for thousands of beaming faces. It reminded me of Carly and Adam’s wedding, and the birth of the band’s first baby. Made me think of Ross’s face when he’d come over to Matty’s after his first proper date, how buzzed he’d been, the look in his eyes. All of it had me wishing for the simpler times strung out by the pool and on the school’s playing fields.

The years had seemed to pass us by so quickly.

I saw it in the wrinkled smile Hann gave Carly, the greying stands in Matty’s hair, and how G’s knees groaned whenever he sat down- though he’d never willingly admit it.

My family. They’d given me so much, filled many a hole in my war torn heart, but I don’t think they had any actual idea how deeply their presence was felt in me. And so as I stood once more to give another lungful of cheers alongside the rest of the audience, I vowed to make sure that they each knew just how loved they were and how proud they made me.

—

“Yeah, yup. Of course! No, we do do peonies this time of year. Yes, no need to worry it’ll all be taken care of.” I pressed the phone against my shoulder and ear so that I could grab a nearby pen and paper to write a few details down, then hummed watching on as Delia came out the back of the shop. “Okay, and is that all? No, no, thank you! So it’ll be delivered on the Thursday, is that alright? Yeah. Okay, okay. You’re most welcome! Alright, have a good rest of your day.” Then I finished off the call with a classic British goodbye that always seemed to go on a little too long.

Delia was smiling at me now as she placed a couple of empty pots by the counter, hair plaited down the length of her back and with a pair of reading glasses tangled in its top. “Another order?”

I hummed again with a happy smile at her ask, finishing off the address I’d just taken. “Yup! Big one too.”

“Oo, how lucky we are.” Delia retorted with a small chuckle and a pleased little smile of her own. It’d been a good week, lots of orders, which was promising after the past month we’d had. She glanced over to the clock on the far wall, then back to me, “You still skiving off early tonight?”

Skiving was hardly the term I’d use, but with a fond roll of my eyes, I nodded at her. “I am. That still okay?” Already knowing it was.

She tutted, waving me off. “You know it is. Just letting you know that he’ll be here any minute now.”

My eyes widened and I was quick to spin around to cast a glance at the time. “Shit.” I murmured to myself, listening to the faint laughter Delia gave as I undid my apron and hurried to tidy up what was left of my last bouquet.

“Leave it, love. I’ll be here another hour or so.”

I frowned, then shook my head, always one to clean up my own messes, but I was interrupted then by the shop door’s jingle. Both Delia and I looked up at the same time to find a familiar figure stepping through its archway, he wore his usual cheeky smile and had eyes that looked more alive than I’d seen in a long while.

Well, I hadn’t really seen him in a long while, he’d been away on tour with the guys for months now and I’d only gotten small glimpses of him through texts and calls, as well as the odd sporadic visit between us both when we were really feeling the distance.

“George.” I breathed out, recognising the tension I’d been feeling for weeks now finally fall from off my shoulders. I couldn’t bring myself to move though, to race on over and throw myself into him like they did on the tele- mostly because that just wasn’t our style. But I did grin, couldn’t have stopped the beam of it in all honesty, and watched him walk the length of the flower shop only to pause about a foot away with his hands tucked neatly behind his back.

“Heya, Birdie. Fancy seeing you here, ey? And still not ready too. Ain’t already regretting having agreed to let me move in, are you?”

He was teasing. His favourite pastime had always been teasing me. But his words still resonated and as much as I wished to reassure him that that was most definitely not the case, I was still me and if he wanted to be a twat, then I could be an even bigger one.

“Might be.” I sighed deliberately and slowly moved around behind the counter to hang my apron up on its original hook, before glancing over to where Delia still stood, wearing an amused smirk of her own. Far too used to our antics by now. “Just keep thinking about my lovely little flat being invaded by all your man-ness.”

“My man-ness?” George quizzed, withholding an obvious chuckle whilst he raised a questioning brow over the till at me.

I hummed, tutting lightly before I glanced back at my boss. “You know what I mean, don’t you, Deils? The boxers and socks thrown about everywhere, wet towels left on the bathroom floor, having to clear up after not just yourself but them as well.”

“Like having a dog.” Delia immediately agreed with a dip of her head, “Eat whatever you feed them and don’t give you a minute alone.”

I snorted whilst George just shook his head at both of us.

“Well, most dogs don’t leave and come back baring gifts.”

“Eh, you’d be surprised.” Delia countered but by then I was already intrigued.

“Gifts, you say?” I questioned him, pressing my hip into the counter to rest my chin against my fist.

“Hm,” George hummed in low confirmation, those eyes of his dancing back and forth between my own, “But you know, could always just head on over to Ross’s, sure he’d be fine with housing me for a couple nights…”

I rolled my eyes at the very thought, “As if! He’s probably glad to see the back of you for a while. I’ve heard stories about tour, G. Remember that.”

It was his turn to snort then. “Most likely. Delia, you wouldn’t happen to have a spare bed going for a poor bloke who’s been fed empty promises and chucked out on his arse, would you?”

Delia sighed and shook her head, although she was still sporting a fond smile. “The pair of you. I swear.” She let go of a soft chuckle before checking my hip and shooing me off, “Get on out of here, would you? Driving me up the wall already.”

“You love us really.” I shot back easily, but was all too happy to oblige, rounding the till to grab my coat and bag before acknowledging that I was now standing a foot away from him once again. It’d been far too long. “Hey.” I said sheepishly.

George rolled his eyes at my awkwardness and made a grab for my hand, pulling me in close and pressing a kiss to my forehead before he slunk his arm around my waist. I let myself fall further into his embrace, taking in his familiar build, the aftershave he adored, the tightness of his hold.

“You ready to go?” He asked me gently and I dipped my head to hide the warmth of my smile, fingers finding a belt loop on his jeans.

“You sure you’re alright with me leaving early?” I said once more to Delia, hating having to leave her in the shop on her own.

“Yes! I’ve only told you about thirty times already, lovely. I’ll be more than fine.” The older woman immediately shot back, palms splayed on the countertop whilst she shook her head at me for umpteenth time today. “I think you forget I’ve been running this shop for well over a decade now, and I’ve been doing alright.”

My cheeks burned a tad at her words, but I just couldn’t seem to help it, once you were one of my people you were in for life. And I took care of the ones I held close. “Sorry, Deils. I know I’m being exhausting, I just-”

“Care.” Both her and George said simultaneously.

And I glared meekly at the pair then huffed, “Well.”

George chuckled beside me, the sound vibrating against the skin of my cheek, and could only seem to pull me impossibly closer, “Too much, sometimes.”

I threw my free hand up in the air with a light laugh, “Right. Sorry I’m overly considerate! But there are worst things you could be, you know. Like rude? Reckon the pair of you would know a thing or two about that.”

“Oh, gerroff it.” Delia laughed delightedly, tutting at me. George seemed content to just continue on grinning. “Go on, get out of here before I chuck you out.”

“You heard the lady, B. Don’t wanna overstay our welcome.” George added as he begun to usher us towards the door, but I saw the sweet smile he flashed the woman before the bell chimed once more. “Lovely seeing you again, Delia.”

“You too, be sure to pop back in before you head off on the road again.”

He laughed but assured her with a promising nod, “Will do.”

—

“That’ll be six fifty, sweetheart.”

I smiled and handed it over, pulling the cocktail I’d ordered across the bar whilst I scoped the place.

It had been just a typical Tuesday night for me, I’d been in joggers, bra long gone, and curled up in front of the tele, but then George had phoned, spouting this and that about the album, telling me to meet the lot of them at a club down in Canning Town.

I had no idea whether they’d started, finished, or just scrapped the whole thing, but it’d been doing everyone’s head in for months now, and for G to just call up and send a cab to fetch me out of the blue had me intrigued, so obviously I’d gone.

Only, they had yet to arrive. Fucking London. I swear as much as I loved it most days, you could hardly move an inch without it feeling like the entire city was shifting with you. Our flat was a lot further than the studio, but tonight the roads were crammed pack with traffic that had managed to work its way onto the A12, so I already knew that they’d be a little behind. I was merely thankful I’d had the foresight to skip the cab ride and just jump the tube.

A graze to my left arm then pulled me from my thoughts though and I glanced over to find a fella stood crowding the bar beside me, he was tall, blond, and although he appeared to be waiting on the bartender he was also a little too close for that to be his only intent. But me being me, I simply shuffled over a tad to give him some room and continued to sip at my drink, eyes still trained on the club’s entrance.

“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to crowd you.” I heard the bloke say from beside me and his hand brushed my elbow as he took a polite step away.

“You’re alright.” I waved off, not really paying him much mind now that the bartender had worked his way back over to take this side’s order.

It was nearing almost eleven now and so I popped my phone out of my purse to see if G had sent me an update. He had, almost ten minutes ago in fact, but apparently I hadn’t heard it over the noise.

G: Stuck in traffic Won’t be long though x

I smiled and shot him a quick text back, saying I’d have a large talisker waiting for him.

It was only when I’d flicked it back off, not bothering with whatever else had popped up, that the guy caught my attention again. He’d already cheersed the bartender for his drink, coloured something ruddy, and then granted me a small smile when our sights crossed.

“I love the watch.” He said to me, dark eyes shooting downward to the antique that adorned my wrist.

Caught mostly by surprise, I found myself looking down at it too. It wasn’t much of a statement piece, dainty if anything and odd in its design due to the age, but it held a lot of sentimental value and was something I rarely ever parted with. Hardly anyone passed comment on it though.

“Oh, thanks.” I replied, drink already back on the bar before I allowed my thumb to graze across it’s glass face briefly. “It was a gift.”

The man hummed around a swirl of his drink, “Looks rather old, got to be at least sixty now?”

I grinned and my surprise stuck with me, he was almost on the mark there. “Around about, it was given as a present to my grandparents on their wedding day. One of their friends gave them one each.”

That answer warranted a little shock of its own, I supposed. If you knew what to look for you’d see that the watch was a Hans Wilsdorf design from the mid forties and the one my grandad had worn completed a matching set. To say that they’d both been given as a gift, especially way back then, was amazing, but even more so seeing that both my grandparents had been working class.

“Can I?” He questioned and dipped his head down at it, asking for a closer look.

He appeared to know a little about watches from what I’d grasped, or at least had a fondness for them, and seeing as it wasn’t the strangest thing to ever happen to me in a club, I held out my arm to let him.

“It’s beautiful, well looked after.” He complimented sincerely with careful eye, “May I?” I frowned at his question, unsure on what he’d meant, but nodded once and was only slightly surprised when he took a gentle hold of my wrist to turn it over and glance at the clasp. “Even the engravings have kept.”

I smiled when he allowed me my hand back, glancing down at the watch again, the dim lights over the bar glinted across the metal. “It’s even got a small inscription on the back too.” I felt inclined to add, the chiseled words having stuck with me ever since I’d first seen them.

The stranger smiled along with me, as though he understood the emotions my revelation held. “Do they have a story?” He wondered, before adding, “The friend behind the gift.”

It wasn’t a well kept secret, the background of my grandad, the friends he’d kept, the men he’d known. But it wasn’t one I’d heard very much of until the visits I’d taken to my Nana’s long after he had died and I’d left home.

“You could say that.” I chuckled and let my arm relax in my lap once more, “He was a… business man, of sorts. Had known my grandad since they were boys, grew up together.”

“A business man?” The man lifted an elegant brow, mouth following.

“Of sorts.” I reminded with a smirk.

“Oh, like that I see.” He smiled charmingly in retort, “Lots of business men mulling about in the fifties and sixties. Any big names I might know?”

I snorted softly, glad he’d caught on so quickly. “Probably. But I’m no snitch, so you’ll be hearing none.”

He narrowed a pair of dark eyes at me in a manner of teasing at that, and on any other girl they might’ve worked, might’ve even disarmed them. But, I was already happy, happier than I’d ever planned on being actually. “And here I was, thinking we were becoming fast friends.”

With a light laugh, I picked up my drink. “I have enough friends.”

“Oh, that hurts, darling.” The man instantly quipped back, raising a ring clad hand to cover his chest faintly. Yeah, he was definitely playing a game here, but just as I’d been about to affirm the fact that I wasn’t and also had a boyfriend, he spoke up again, “Go on, at least let me know the message engraved on the back.”

I peered over at him for a moment and he only quirked his brow in turn, I put my glass back down on the counter to unhook the first clasp on the watch, not enough for it to slip off (I wasn’t a fucking idiot) but so much so that I could flip the face on its front. And there, in a curved font, was written ‘Family has a way of being found amongst friends’.

“Wow.” The man murmured and I hummed softly in agreement, our heads bowed closely to read the inscription together in the dim lights. “Very wise words.”

I glanced up and smiled at him, ready to reply before a hand snaked its way around my waist. My head shot up at the touch and was greeted with the many faces of the band, but most importantly, George.

“You made it!” I beamed at them all, already shuffling over a bit to make room for the boys. Ross was already leaning against the bar though, ordering in a round, Hann seemed to follow his lead after gifting me an strained smile, which was confusing in itself, until I saw Matty’s shit-eating grin and felt George’s hand grow firmer on my hip.

“We did! Seems like you barely noticed though, love. Havin’ fun tonight, are we?” Matty baited, he was almost singing and his expression was nothing short of gleeful. He reached between me and the bloke I’d been speaking to to grab at my drink. “Cheers, B.” He added, raising the glass to his lips and downing what remained of it.

I rolled my eyes, albeit fondly. “You can buy me another now, Healy.”

Matty hissed theatrically through his teeth as though he was weighing on the thought, “Dunno about that one, sweetheart. Seems as though you’ve got bigger shit to worry about here.”

I pursed my lips in confusion just as the curly haired singer slid from view and then glanced up at George, who stood towering beside me. I poked at his side, “Not gonna even say hello? Been waiting ages for you lot.”

George glanced down at me at that and seemed to take a deep breath before he finally smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to my hair, “Hello, Birdie. Been behaving?”

My forehead pinched at his words, but when I looked up I saw the darkened haze his eyes held and felt my breath hitch. I wasn’t sure if it was down to the lighting in the club or something other, but whatever it was it had my emotions warring.

George turned away before I could mutter a single sound. “Sorry, mate. Don’t think I caught your name.”

It hit me then.

G was jealous. And oh, how lovely that thought was.

I was quick to dim the smirk that toyed with my lips upon the realisation and pulled a little bit away from his hold to offer the stranger I’d been sat with a truly apologetic smile, “Oh God, yeah, I didn’t either!”

The man’s stare darted between the pair of us before it landed back on me, he masked his confusion well and said, “Tom.” Then stuck a hand out to properly introduce himself, but before I could even think to take it, George beat me to it.

I blinked.

“George. Not to be rude though, mate. But she’s already taken, so if you don’t mind?”

Startled by his harsh comment and the jerk of George’s head, I blanched and was hasty to reassure the man sat at the bar, “Don’t mind him.” Then turned to my suddenly temperamental boyfriend, “G, we were just talking about my watch. What’s up with you?”

He raised a single brow in retort but didn’t let up on the continuous stare he had on the stranger. Tom, who looked extremely fucking uncomfortable, merely held up a hand. “Didn’t mean to overstep.” He declared before he set his sights back on me, “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way. But it really was a pleasure meeting you, hope you enjoy the rest of your night.”

I fish-mouthed slightly but nodded, “Yeah, sorry. You too.”

The man granted the pair of us a tiny smile and then let himself get swept up in the club’s crowd. I immediately spun around to face George.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

He had the cheek to reel back from my hissed words, acting as though I was the one being outrageous here. “Me? I didn’t do anything!”

“You were so rude!” I countered and felt his hand slip a tad from its place on my hip, “We were just talking!”

“He was chatting you up!” He immediately argued, “Anyone could see that from a mile off!”

“He was interested in my watch! And even if he was trying to chat me up, don’t you trust me enough to know when to draw the line?” I sniped back, all the earlier amusement I’d felt drained from my body.

The skin between his brows pinched as he blinked and the palm placed on the small of my back splayed a little further, his voice softened, “Of course I fucking do, Birdie. Doesn’t mean I like watching people like him fawn all over you.”

“G,” I sighed, “We really were just talking.”

He dragged a roughened hand across his face before it dropped completely to his side and saw the imploring look he then wore, “Do you know how it felt, to walk in and spot you and him knocking heads, so lost in the moment that you didn’t even hear me call out your name?”

No, I didn’t.

Slowly I raised both my arms up to tug on the lapels of the blazer he’d thrown on, glancing up at him with a sincere smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. I can see what it might’ve looked like from an outside perspective. But I’d never do that to you, George.”

The tension in his shoulders seemed to loosen at my words, they were no longer hunched up by the lobes of his ears and instead settled where they were supposed to be.

“I know.” He whispered quietly, but even over all the club’s noise I heard him. The hand on my back pushed against me to bring me closer to his chest and I went, smiling at the gentle touch of the fingers that grasped my chin. “I know.”

I appreciated the reassurance.

“And I wasn’t lost in the moment with him, just so you know. More in the story behind the watch.” I added, releasing the hold on his jacket so that my hand could wrap around his wrist, feeling the beat of his pulse there. A familiar rhythm.

George glanced down at the watch Nana had gifted me all those years ago and then towards the matching face sat on his own arm. A pair reunited.

He knew. He knew the stories, all the tales. He knew the love and the loss. He knew how much I missed her. How much I longed to see her one more time. And in return, I knew he felt very much the same. Nana had taken George in as one of her own before any of us had even realised, called him up more than me some weeks, and in the lead up to her death she’d wanted to see him, to gift him her husband’s watch. He’d sobbed when she’d died and had given quite the speech at her funeral. I knew he understood.

“I love you.” I told him simply, kissing the thumb that had come to rest on my bottom lip, his eyes trained on mine.

“And I love you. I’m sorry for being a dick.” He comforted me. I hummed with a foolishly fond smile.

“Good, then you can bully Matty into getting me that drink.” And with that said, I let him go, watching as he rolled his eyes at the order before wandering a few feet away to where Matty was sprawling himself across the bar to get a better look at the champagne bottles they had to offer. I guess we were celebrating then.

Too lost in watching George corral his best mate from off the counter, I jumped a tad when Ross sidled up beside me, a fruity cocktail in hand.

“What is it with you and handsome strangers then?” He asked me casually and I snorted out an unexpected laugh.

“Dunno really. Why, you jealous?”

Ross wiggled his brows at me, “Wouldn’t that put a spin on the evening.”

The two of us shared a conspiratorial grin and he finally told me why the hell I’d been dragged out of my flat tonight.

—

“Vegas, ba-by!”

“Whoo!”

“VEGAS! VEGAS! VEGAS!”

“Alright, you lot.” George laughed from the backseat of the limousine Matty had rented out for the night- a bit over the top in my opinion, but when in Las Vegas, right? “Calm it down, will you? Only just got here.”

“Oh piss off, George!”

“Should I take my top off?”

“Yeah, fuck off, grandad!”

“I feel like I should take my top off.”

“Shit, is that Elvis?”

“I’m gonna take my top off!”

“Oi!” George’s arms wrapped around my middle and pulled me back down from the sunroof before I could, and I landed in his lap with an oof sound. “None of that, please.”

Hann snorted in the lounger across from us, a bottle of Smirnoff clutched in his right hand as he poured another shot, but was caught off guard by the shirt that came sailing at his face. It was then that Matty’s head popped back into view.

“No worries, B. Ross took his top off in your stead.”

George snorted, Hann sighed, and I jumped back up to join in on the fun.

“G, hold this, would you?” I said, top already balled up in my hand and cleavage to the wind whilst I grinned widely at all the lights that Sin City had to offer me.

…

We all ended up on the strip soon enough, limo long gone and the five of us marvelling at all it had to offer. We only had a night to pack full to the brim with stupid choices and a shit ton of money, because tomorrow we were set to head back on the road, headed off to a festival not too far for the band’s next show.

“Where to first then?” Hann asked everyone.

“Caesars Palace!” The boys all chorused, but me, I had my mind set on other things. “Magic Mike.”

Matty looked over at me for a short moment whilst the rest of the guys simply raised their brows. “Yeah, alright then.” He agreed all too easily enough and that was it. “Magic Mike here we come!” Matty declared loudly before setting off, “Ross, mate, don’t get hard and embarrass us, alright?”

Ross’s bewildered squark was lost in the crowd of people we got swept up in as well as our obnoxious laughter.

…

It seemed that Magic Mike had been an experience and a half, and not just for me either. Matty left the show with a Cheshire sized grin, both Hann and G looked pink in the cheeks, and Ross… Ross was flushed and sporting glassy eyes. I’d been pretty chuffed with their reactions all in all, especially when one of the dancers had tried to drag George of all people up onto the stage. He’d refused adamantly, mind, probably too fearful of the fan’s reactions, but the woman beside us- well into her sixties and sporting a cane- had been all too happy to offer herself up instead.

We’d wandered off to the casinos after that, but instead of heading straight towards the first table we saw or scoping out the machines, we all seemingly decided on shoving as much alcohol as we could possibly procure down our throats. To say that the aim of the night wasn’t getting sloshed beyond repair would be an utter lie. But this was Vegas and I would not stand to have it any other way.

Saying that though, with all the alcohol a lot of the night seemed to blur, sort of merge into one, the strip lights started to look like rainbows, the cars that passed appeared more Pac-Man like than anything else, and bad ideas seemed like the smartest thing we could do.

Which is how George and I managed to evade the rest of the band in one of the local bars and escape to where we were currently stood, outside of a tiny chapel a street away from an In-and-Out. Classy. But I’d take it.

“You sure about this?”

“Are you? It was your idea!”

“With you? Always.”

We both seemed to giggle at that.

“I could really go for a burger, you know.”

“B, aren’t you like a plant person?”

I snorted. “Vegetarian, you mean?”

“Hm, same thing, in’t it? Don’t think birds actually eat burgers though.”

Birds. “Well for one, I’m not an actual bird. And b, have you ever seen a seagull?”

“Shit, yeah. You’re right.” A thoughtful pause. “Think I want a burger too.”

“Alright, after this then?”

“Yeah, alright.” He grabbed my hand a little tighter at that and I looked over to find him grinning like a loon. “After this.”

…

I startled awake to loud incessant knocking and immediately groaned into my pillow at the pitiful pounding it kickstarted in my head. I’d never felt so worn and sluggish, and a hellish fury rose within me at the startle, but seeing as the knock-ee couldn’t see through walls, I supposed they still had no idea that they were currently the cause of World War III.

Somewhere to the right of me, George seemed to wake also, grunting at the onslaught of noise and huffing loudly, “Fuck off!”

I winced at the jarring sound of his voice, and it appeared he did too, but was grateful when the banging finally stopped. Only it wasn’t for long because as soon as it did, it started up again and was joined by Matty’s head-splittings shouts.

“Open! This! Fucking! Door!”

He was relentless and somewhere, in the very depths of my mind, I found it odd how he wasn’t in his or someone else’s hotel room nursing a violent hangover of his own.

“Now! Open this door right fucking now!”

It stopped again for a moment, catching me enough by surprise that I dug myself out from under a plethora of sheets. Then let my eyes slip close again in annoyance when a second voice sounded alongside Matty’s own.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to either calm down or leave.” Came the muffled order, “We’ve had multiple complaints in the last five minutes alone.”

“Calm down? Calm down! Mate, I don’t think you have any right to ask that of me right now! I’m freaking the fuck out here. I’m beyond fucking pissed! YOU HEAR ME?” He seemed to shout louder then, obviously aiming that last bit at us. George huffed beside me but thankfully made to move. “FUCKING FUMING! I MEAN, WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE- FRIENDS, EVEN! DO THAT TO A-”

The tyrant roaring cut off then and I peered across the room to watch as George ripped the hotel door open and tugged Matty into the suite by his elbow, all whilst wearing nothing but a thin sheet.

“Will you shut up, you mouthy twat?” He muttered, levelling Matty with a glare nothing short of hellish, though was only met with a childish scowl in turn, before he looked back at the bellhop, a well groomed man with sleek black hair and a thin lipped smile. I groaned internally. “Look sorry, mate. He’s had a rough night, we’ll make sure to keep the noise down from now on.”

“Rough night?” Matty snarled with an undisguised snort- whatever had him this riled up was sure to have been big. But George gave him another look of disdain, apparently not all that pleased to have been so rudely awoken and forced to deal with his bullshit, and he relented to a scowl. I kept myself hidden beneath the covers.

“It won’t happen again.” George quietly assured the hotel worker and sighed heavily once the man had given him a curt nod and the door had shut. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” He immediately asked, rounding on the curly haired idiot now stood in our room, before taking a deep breath and stalking his way back across the floor, dragging the sheet with him. I attempted to sit up.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you! I can’t fuckin’ believe you two!”

With a frown that was more of a pained grimace, I grabbed a random shirt from off the floor beside the bed and tugged it on- it was George’s, but thankfully it’d been the one he’d chucked off before we’d headed out last night.

Thinking back to last night though, I rubbed at my bleary eyes and tried to recollect the events that had happened after the fishbowls we’d devoured at a themed bar I could not for the life of me remember the name of. But they just wouldn’t come.

“What’s wrong, Matty?” I questioned, my voice all gravelly, and I faintly recalled then having screamed quite a bit- in all sorts of situations. My cheeks flushed at the vague memories that swam towards the forefront of my mind.

“What do you mean, what’s wrong? B, how fucking could you!” Matty quipped straight back, looking just as grim as I felt, his hair in disarray, still in last nights clothes, and stinking up a storm.

“Matt. I need you to slow down, my head’s fucked enough as it is and you’re not helping.” I told him, scrunching my face up as a sudden wave of nausea rocked through me.

“Exactly.” George grunted out and I looked over to see him forcing up a pair of boxers, beyond the point of caring if he had an audience or not.

Matty glared between the pair of us, but then George sighed and sat himself back down on the bed, and Matty’s narrowed eyes seemed to soften. “You honestly have no clue what I’m on about, do you?”

I rubbed at my temples, “No idea.”

“Hm.” George muttered in a huffed agreement and swiped a hand across his face before he stilled in his entirety.

“What?” I said, confused by the way he’d gone so stock-still, “If you’re gonna chuck up there’s a bin right there.” I added just in case, gesturing halfheartedly over towards the cluttered desk not too far from the bed.

George didn’t seem to hear me though, instead just turned very carefully and very slowly in his seat to look over at me.

“What?” I asked him again, this time a little more frenzied, throwing my hands down onto the duvet that covered my lower half in a huff. My patience had already been worn thin, and he really wasn’t making things much better.

George’s gaze seemed to follow my hands though, before his head instantly snapped back up in Matty’s direction like a rubber band that’d been cut.

“Oh shit.”

Matty rolled his eyes. “Yeah, oh shit.”

“What? What’s goin- Oh, shit.”

My eyes caught on the glinting stone stationed on my left hand and my breath caught, all thoughts fleeing as my lungs refused to function any further than that. Oh shit indeed.

“I- What does that even mean?” My gaze darted from Matty’s bewildered face to George’s shellshocked expression and then to the man’s matching hand. “Christ. What did we do?”

I was really freaking the fuck out now and wondered briefly if this was all just an alcohol induced dream, if I’d had one too many shots, or stumbled too hard and ended up face first in a fountain.

But then the door to our hotel room shot open and in swanned Ross looking like Camilla on Coronation day, as well as Adam who was scrolling frantically through his phone.

Ross seemed to have hardly been affected by any of last night’s antics, still looking as lovely as ever, and was unwelcomely singing a familiar Billy Idol tune as the two of them wandered in further. “Hey little sister, what have you done? Hey little sister, who's the only one?”

I chucked the nearest thing I had to me at his giant head, which ended up being a small red box, but he merely caught it in midair and grinned. “It's a nice day to start again. It's a nice day for a-” He carried on with his wind-up, peering down at the box passingly before his eyebrows shot up to a scary degree. He whistled lowly, cutting himself completely off, then let his wide eyes glance over to George and I. “White wedding.”

Those last two words had the entire room falling silent. The hotel even, hell, maybe the entire fucking planet! I could barely hear anything above the beating of my own heart that had started banging like a metal drum in my ears.

Belatedly, I forced myself to try and gauge George’s reaction to this whole thing but my boyfriend- oh God, my fiancé now? Husband?!- appeared to already be staring right back at me. His expression gave nothing away except for the apparent shock swimming in his eyes. I wondered if I mirrored it exactly.

Matty, who’d been silent ever since the revelation had hit the two of us, now seemed to jump start and cautiously he made his way over to my side of the bed, precariously taking perch in front of me before he then took my hand- the one without the life-altering reminder, thankfully. Small mercies.

“B? You okay?”

My mouth was dropped open in utter shock but slowly I turned my head to stare up at my best friend, the boy who’d been with me through everything. Everything but this it seemed.

“Hey, love. You’re alright. Just a big shock to the system, yeah? You’re alright.”

His quiet reassurances didn’t do much, but they helped ebb the fizzing thoughts my mind didn’t have the capability to process a bit. I forced myself to inhale, to take a breath, but it must’ve seemed rather abrupt to Matty who hastily drew himself closer to place a hand on the back of my neck.

“Just breathe. I’ve got you. Breathe. You’re alright.”

I started nodding, I think. Attempted to absorb the information whilst I breathed in and out, breathing like Matty told me to. Another set of hands found me soon enough. Mindlessly I acknowledged the dip in the bed beside me, as well as the careful fingers that threaded themselves through my hair, and then the loving thumb which trailed sweetly down the length of my forearm.

“You feeling any better?” Someone asked a little while later, and I nodded slowly, forcing my head back up and my eyes open once I no longer felt like the room was caving in on me.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, love. Nothing to be sorry for.” The voice assured me, it was George, I realised.

“Feel like a twat. For reacting like that I mean. I didn’t, I mean, it’s not like I wouldn’t want to-” I could barely bring myself to say it, but George seemed to understand me nevertheless.

We’d spoken about it before, of course. But not since we’d gotten back together and only ever when we’d been kids, way back before the band had taken off, before life had chewed us up and spat us back out.

I’d never been gone on the idea, marriage was a big deal, scary in a sense. Seeing what it had done to my parents, to my mum after losing my dad, I never wanted to end up like that. Too terrified to be alone and too desperate to fill that void with anything and anyone. My skin itched even now at the very thought.

But I was also old enough to realise that whether George and I were… married or not, I’d still be just as destroyed if I lost him.

George had vaguely agreed with me back then, though I do remember one night, at Nana’s the summer after our first visit there, where he’d said something different. We’d been curled up on the guest bed, wine drunk and happy, he’d held me close, half naked with our arms and legs entangled, he’d whispered and I’d barely even heard him, slipping tiredly into sleep. But he’d said it and I’d remembered, even after all these years.

“If I ever did get married, it’d have to be to you. I mean, you’re an anomaly, Birdie. You’d make sure it worked out, that everything would be okay. Reckon then, it’d all be fine.”

I recalled myself smiling sleepily at his words but unable to truly believe them.

George loved me and I loved him. And that was all that mattered, right?

Nothing could change that. It hadn’t then, and it wouldn’t now. I knew that.

“Wait, how did you lot even find out?” I forced myself to ask the rest of the room, chest still aching from the panic I’d put my body through, thoughts starting to numb the headache of my hangover. I glanced between the rest of the boys, but my sights settled on Matty seeing as though he’d been the first one to barge in. “Well?” I prompted.

Matty scratched at the back of his head and I watched his mouth quirk up into something that resembled a smile, only it was anxious and strained. Didn’t reach his cheeks, let alone his eyes.

“Twitter.” Hann answered for the three of them, already handing his phone over.

George wrapped an arm around my hips and shuffled closer to view the screen, whilst I had the pleasure of scrolling aimlessly through a feed of fan reactions and news outlets. The panic that was still there came back in full force but I wouldn’t let it overwhelm me like I had before, instead opting to swallow it all down and continue on.

“How did they even find out?” George questioned with a strange pitch to his voice upon seeing multiple pictures of the two of us loving it up outside the chapel we’d obviously chosen, as well as us eating by a window at a nearby In-and-Out Burger it seemed. Fucking hell, was all I could think.

Ross tossed the box I’d thrown at him earlier towards George and we both glanced down at it. It hadn’t just been an ordinary box and I could see that now, what with the sleek embossed logo for a Las Vegas jewellers sat proudly on the top.

“Couple of people saw you inside the shop, called the paps. Things started to add up when they caught sight of you at that chapel, I ‘spose.” The bearded giant told us and I felt the lump in my throat start to grow.

I’d been pictured with the band and George before, on tour mostly, but sometimes at events and such, but rarely ever papped in public. Not like this at least.

I let my head drop onto George’s shoulder and wielded my eyes tightly shut, I wanted to scream or cry, but I didn’t know whether it was in joy or utter fear.

Then I felt a soft pair of lips come to rest against my head and I moved slightly to wrap my arms around George’s middle, wincing when I realised I hadn’t even asked him how he was feeling.

“How are you taking all this? I didn’t even ask, I’m sorry.” I murmured into the curve of his arm, but he only seemed to press his face deeper into my hair.

“Look, we’d best give you some space, yeah?” I heard Adam start to say, voice echoing in the quiet room. “Let you get some clothes on and sort your heads out.”

“Yeah.” Matty breathed out in agreement and the bed shifted as he removed his weight from it, his hand squeezing my shoulder just the once.

“Maybe text us when you feel like talking, we can grab some food and bring it back up.” Ross suggested and I felt George nod above me, and together we sat there listening to footsteps pad their way out of the room. Leaving us alone again.

—

So after that whole scandal, England’s very own Ross and Rachel eventually had to make their way back home. And yes, Ross and Rachel because let’s be honest here, if George and I were anyone amongst the Friends cast then we’d of course be those two. And I don’t know, Matty could probably play at being a good Phoebe, then Ross and Hann would end up as Joey and Chandler- work it out between yourselves on who’s who there. And I suppose that would leave the lovely Carly as our very own Monica. Only, this is all happening before season four, of course, and Carly is already back home waiting for her husband to touchdown.

So maybe not. I don’t know! My mind was still in a right state after everything that had gone down in Vegas, and I’d hardly been able to process most of it due to tour and the festival, and the onslaught of fans and paps, as well as people back home. Denise had not been happy to find out the way she had, let’s just make that one thing known.

And then there’d been George’s parents.

Sighing quietly, I placed a hand over George’s own to still the nervous tapping that seemed constant nowadays and watched as he stilled for a moment, turning in his airplane seat to glance over at me.

I allowed my body to mimic his movements, only pulling my leg up to press against the arm of the chair and resting my head to the side. I smiled softly at him, more than a little glad that we’d made the decision to take separate flights from the rest of the boys in attempt to throw off the media.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, letting him take my hand in his and not saying a word when he toyed with the silver band that had yet to leave my ring finger.

George shrugged a shoulder, gaze caught on the pretty stone. “I haven’t a clue what I’ll say, is all.”

I licked my lip in thought, still watching him closely. The plane back home probably wasn’t the best place to talk about this, but we’d hardly had a minute alone since Vegas, what with the tour and the guys and everybody else. And besides, if there were any privileges to take full use of when dating a musician you’d drunkenly married then it would most definitely be First Class seats. Everyone else around us was either dead to the world or wearing headphones. We were safe enough here.

“Did you answer yet? Or, are even you going to?”

He drew in a large enough breath before he answered me, but that seemed to be answer enough.

“I haven’t yet and I don’t know. I- They’ve called quite a bit, but mum left a voicemail the day after and later on dad sent a text.” He revealed and I tried to reign back my surprise, though it made sense now to how little he’d wanted his phone near him the past few days, even when he’d been casting it longing glances from across the length of the tour bus.

I swallowed. “Have you listened to it?”

He dipped his head in a nod but didn’t meet my eye, attention still so focused on the hand he held.

“Right… and have you read your dad’s message?” Another nod. This was so hard, I’d honest to God been dreading their reactions so I had no idea just how George was taking it all. I desperately wanted to just tug him in and never let him go again, hope that if he stayed wrapped up in a hug that the world would just leave him be. “Did,” I took a small breath to gather myself, “Did they react like you expected?” Badly, it could only mean badly.

I heard him let out a small and tired chuckle, “Mum did. Dad…”

Okay, so there was hope. There was still hope.

“I listened to the voicemail first, it was,” George inhaled sharply and I took note of the deep furrow between his brows, the way his touch softened on my hand, circling the ring. “It was a lot. I expected it though. The shame she felt I brought, getting married like that, looking the way we did, drunk and stupid. Her words, not mine. Said she wouldn’t be surprised if I was high out of my mind too, or if it was all just fake in an attempt to spurn her some more and get attention.”

Talk about being full of yourself. But I kept that thought to myself, I was angry yes, fuming even, but it was George’s call on how we handled this, because we would, together.

He sighed again, but finally looked back up at me. “She said a lot of other shit I can’t be arsed to think about anymore. But just know that I know that none of it’s true. Hurtful, yeah. Of course. But true?” He shook his head, “Nah.” He exhaled, “And I know we haven’t really,”

“Spoken about it?” I finished for him and he smiled, this tiny but fond thing that sent my heart stuttering.

“Yeah. But no matter what happens, this,” He tugged my palm up to his chest and held it between his hand and his heart, “This is the greatest thing I’ll ever accomplish.”

My eyes instantly prickled at that, just as my breath was knocked from deep within me. I had to fight to swallow and felt my hand clutch the cloth of his shirt.

“Me too.”

George grinned, a complete 180 to the tender smile he’d been wearing, but still so gut-wrenching. Only, in the very best way.

“Good.” He whispered to me, tens of thousands of feet up in the air, and lifted our joined hands to press a kiss to my skin. “Good.”

“So this is it? It’s sticking?” I asked him, hope already so high that I was sure it would shatter if he wasn’t there already holding his arms out towards me.

He chuckled at my words and leant in close, fingers toying with my ring. “It’s sticking.”

My breath hitched and I found that I was grinning too, almost madly. Eyes trained on his whiskey brown, the very same I’d been staring into for well over a decade now. And still, they mesmerised me like no other.

“Good.” I whispered and finally closed the gap between us.

—

Life after getting hitched was, almost boring in a way? Things continued on as they always did, G in the studio and me at the flower shop. Our friends had gotten over the fact that we’d eloped on a whim- namely Matty, although he was still a little bitchy about it at times. And Denise had thrown us the loveliest party when we’d gotten back to the UK (not that anything could’ve stopped her, not even an apocalypse it would seem).

The party had been a small affair with just the people we held nearest and dearest, and although it’d been to celebrate the two of us and our commitment to one another, it had also been a great excuse to see everyone we hadn’t seen in ages again, even if we did end up apologising to them every five minutes. George’s dad even ventured down to join in on the festivities, which was the biggest but best surprise yet. The two of them were now working hard on rekindling their relationship with the absence of his mother.

It was just the media that had yet to die down in truth, so we were forced to get used to seeing our ugly mugs plastered everywhere, online and on magazine shelves. Fans of the band were a little intrigued by the idea of George having someone permanent too, even if I had already been around for ages. But Matty had mentioned to me previously when I’d brought it up one evening, that only the older lot really knew of me, from gigs and old photos, hardly anyone knew that G and I had been together since we were kids, let alone having been in a relationship for a little over two years now. It was strange but I left it be.

It was summer again, finally, and everyone was currently taking up residence in Hann’s back garden. See, Carly had wanted to throw a bit of a get-together, have a barbecue now that the sun was back out and everyone was in London again, or at the very least England (cough, cough, Matty).

Hann had been unable to say no, typical for the two of them, and had started sending out invites via text as soon as.

I was surprised I’d actually made it, in all honesty. Not that I’d had other plans or simply didn’t want to be there- there was no place on Earth I’d rather be than with this useless lot- but all week I’d been feeling like shit. But I’d been a bit under the weather for a short while now, on and off really, though I’d yet to go and see anyone about it. Ever since the crash and all that crap a couple years back, I’d really struggled with hospitals and doctors, hated the thought of them, even phoning up for G had me feeling queasy.

This morning I’d felt beyond nauseous and more than a little crap when I’d woken up, but George had made breakfast after having popped out to the shops and had come back with a bouquet, as well as a hello from Delia, which had put me in much better spirits. So I’d gotten ready and forced myself into the car and had been quite thankful for doing so up until now.

We were all gathered out in the garden, the sun was shining bright, the grill was alight, drinks were being passed round, and me, I was absolutely fucking miserable. I was far too hot, even in my pretty sundress, feeling flustered beyond belief at the onslaught of emotions that kept on hitting me, and then to top it all off my stomach had been acting up since I’d sat down and caught a whiff of the onions on the grill.

I pressed a palm to the base of my neck as I struggled to keep my cool, breathing steadily whilst hardly paying attention to the chatter of the girls sat around me. It was the usual group of us, some of which I hadn’t seen for a good couple months, but I could not bring my body to simply just focus or stop irritating me in its entirety.

It was just as Matty swanned over, an arm flung round Waughy’s waist as the two of them talked, that I couldn’t stay sat there anymore. I was quick to flash the pair of them a welcoming grin but excused myself to make my way back inside.

“You okay?”

I glanced up at the voice, beyond grateful to have escaped the sun, and caught sight of Carly messing with some extra picky bits on the counter, salad and whatnot.

I forced another smile and nodded, “Yeah, just wanted to nip to the loo.”

Carly copied the sentiment, though gifted me a bottle of water that she had on hand before I could dash off, “Take that, you’re looking a little flushed, babe. Might help with the heat.”

My smile was more genuine this time around as I took her up on the offer, enjoying the crisp chill that lined the outside of the bottle. “Thanks. And yeah, reckon I’ll just sit in the shade for a bit.”

Carly went to say something else then but was thankfully pulled away by the toddler that came shuffling through the backdoor. I took the opportunity to hurry out of the kitchen and towards the downstairs bathroom, sliding in and shutting the door with a sigh.

I went straight on over to the sink and turned on the water just to wet my hands before taking up perch on the closed toilet lid, listening to the water trickle and flow, hoping it would calm me slightly. Then I took the chance to down half the bottle Carly had gifted me, a bit grim sure, but with the loo being my only escape I hardly had a choice here. The water was practically heaven sent and allowed me a second to take relief in the coolness the room had to offer, its chilly tiles and blinded window kept any and all sunbeams at bay.

But now that I had managed to evade the heat, I realised I’d been left with a rather prominent headache I hadn’t noticed earlier in my agitation. Knowing Hann though, he was always well prepared and probably kept a couple paracetamol in the bathroom cabinet.

I grinned when I got up and pulled open a door to find that I’d been right. I went to grab at the packet only to pause when I caught sight of something else sat on the shelf below it.

A box of pregnancy tests.

No, I thought. It wouldn’t make any sense. But it really seemed to hit me in that moment that maybe, just maybe everything I’d been feeling as of late could boil down to one single thing.

“No.” I repeated, this time out loud and accompanied by a disbelieving laugh. But still I found my hand reaching towards them.

I only reckoned that they were in there in the first place because Adam and Carly had given away the fact that they had wanted to start trying again a couple months prior. Around Easter time I think it had been.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts, but they all seemed drawn to this singular idea, and although I already knew that it was stupid, almost incredibly so, to even think that I could be, well… I still allowed myself to grab at them and it was almost on autopilot that I pulled out a stick and shakily made my way back to the toilet.

I made quick work of it, all that water I’d been drinking seemed to help, and found myself leaning over the sink waiting for a stick to determine what I already knew would be false. It had to be. There was no other way.

But then. I guess there was.

My eyes widened and I reckoned I forgot how to breath let alone how to think when I caught sight of the exact opposite of what I’d been expecting.

Oh and wasn’t that the worst word to use right then. Expecting.

A jolted knock at the door knocked me right back into reality and my wide eyes flew over towards it. I didn’t answer though, I didn’t have in me, but then the knock came again, followed by a, “B, you in there?”

Fuck, Matty. Of course it’d be Matty!

“Yeah?” I called back, voice as shaky as my legs seemed to be.

“You alright? Only, you looked a bit peaky out there, then Carls mentioned it too. Figured I’d come check.”

With trembling hands I pushed myself off of the sink and across the tiled bathroom floor, steeling myself before fiddling with the lock. “Fuck.” I muttered, shaking so severely now that I was surprised I was still standing.

“B?” Matty asked again, but I somehow managed to open the door a crack to find him stood on the other side, a pair of dark sunnies tucked into his effortless curls and his usual grin in place, although looking a tad bit wobbly. “You alright in there?”

I swallowed and before I could think better of it I said, “Get Ross.”

Matty’s expression crinkled in confusion and to be fair to him, it was a strange ask, I must’ve looked a right state, but I wasn’t asking for him or for George, I was asking after Ross.

“What? B, just let me in, will you. What’s goin’ on?”

I shook my head and held tightly onto the doorframe as though it was the only thing keeping me upright, it likely was. “I need Ross.”

The quizzical frown Matty wore only deepened but he backed up a bit, “Come on, stop being a prat. You’re acting weird, freaking me out a bit, in truth.” He chuckled faintly, obviously still conflicted, “Just let me in and we can talk, yeah?”

“Just fuck off, Matty! Call Ross, now.” I all but ordered and the surprise that fluttered through his features would’ve been surprising but I was too far gone to be paying attention to all of his many emotions when I could barely hold onto my own. “Please.”

His resolve seemed to crack at that and he looked at me for a long second before nodding swiftly, “Yeah, alright. Yeah, I’ll go get him.”

I swallowed down the choking sensation I suddenly felt crawling up my throat and nodded in reply, shutting the door before he even had the chance to run off.

“Fuck.” I hissed through my teeth, pressing my face against the bathroom door in an odd attempt to keep myself from sobbing outright.

Had I been too harsh? Matty had only wanted to help. I understood that. I did. But it was Matty, and as much as I fucking loved the daft idiot, this was not a scenario he was built for. Not at all. If I’d’ve let him in and he’d seen that test sat on the sink he’d have freaked out even worse than me. The whole house, no, the entire street would’ve known something was amiss the second he started having a mental breakdown. It was better this way.

And besides, I felt like I really needed my big brother for this one. This was real life shit, and as much as Ross and I bickered and fought, we had a relationship like no other. He was someone I’d always looked up to, someone who knew how to talk me down, to keep me grounded and centred. He had all the answers, and when he didn’t then he knew exactly what to say to sound as though he did. He’d know what to do, he’d sort it all out.

I jumped at the knock that came in that next moment, feeling the vibration buzz through my skull and only accentuating the headache I’d given myself, but still I moved towards the lock once more and was beyond grateful to just see Ross stood there, hunched a little to peek in through the gap at me with a smile.

“You called, your highness?” He remarked playfully and before I could even get the door open any further, the tears started flowing helplessly and I had to watch the way Ross entire expression went from playful to utter horror in a split second. “B, what happened?” He immediately asked, crowding against the door to shuffle in and I allowed him, watching him lock the door once more before I fell into his arms completely.

“Shit. You’re alright, love. It’s okay.” He reassured me softly before carefully wrapping his arms around me, sheltering me from the rest of the world.

The two of us stayed like that for a while, I wasn’t sure how long in truth, enough to let the dull rock he’d started up calm me whilst listening to the faint murmuring of his voice. It was familiar and so very needed right then that I clung on tighter to the back of his shirt as I tried to muddle through my messy mind.

We pulled away soon after, though he still kept me at arms length whilst guiding us both over to the side of the small bath. Ross took a seat on its edge and I followed, thankful that he had the foresight to keep an arm wrapped around my shoulders to keep me close, otherwise I figured I might’ve slipped right into the tub.

“You wanna share with the class or am I gonna have to play a round of charades here?”

I chuckled wetly at his crap joke but it appeared to settle him a bit, being back on familiar ground.

I sniffed and smiled when a wad of tissue was shoved my way. “Ta. Sorry for um, all this. Just, I didn’t want to talk to anyone else.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, glad I could be some help.” Ross laughed, squeezing me a little tighter and assuring me that he meant it, “So, you gonna fill me in on what has you sobbing in Hann’s loo? There are burgers out there, mate, and hotdogs, fucking kebab skewers even! What’s there to moan about?”

I elbowed his side lightly, finding humour in his words just like he’d wanted. “I’m a fucking veggie, Ross.”

“Shit, yeah. Forgot about that detail.”

I rolled my eyes and then rubbed at my nose lightly, “Only known me since you were about ten, MacDonald.”

“And aren’t you grateful for it.” Ross quipped right back with a smirk, “Come on now, spill.”

I huffed and was forced to remember the terrifying detail I’d been trying to come to terms with, not that I really could. But before I could even utter a word I felt Ross go so utterly still beside me and instantly glanced back up to follow the direction of his gaze. He’d spotted it.

The world seemed to fall out from under me then, whether it was down to the realisation that he now knew too, or the fact that Ross had let go of me to grab at the stick on the sink, I didn’t know, but it was spinning and I only felt myself settle once more when Ross’s eyes finally locked on mine again.

“Ross?” I tried, attempting to gauge his reaction through a watery gaze.

He opened his mouth to speak but then quickly shut it again, glancing back down at the pregnancy test he held. Never had I ever in my life seen Ross speechless. But of course, I’d been the one to manage it.

“Ross, come on.” I gulped down a stutter, shifting on the edge of the bath as my entire body buzzed with nerves. “Say something. I need you to at least say something.”

He inhaled a large breath, big enough that it echoed off the tiles around us, before he finally looked back at me and said, “I’m not touching any of your piss right?”

I snorted in disbelief, because of course that’d be the first thing he’d say. “No, you twat, I put the lid back on.”

Ross sighed as though it was a huge relief- and I guess it was, I wouldn’t want to be touching his piss either- but I was relieved when he claimed his seat back beside me. “So, a baby huh?”

I blew out a breath and now that there was not much left to laugh about I felt a more sombre mood fall over us. “Maybe. Could be. I dunno.”

“Those are all the same answer, mate.”

Shooting him a look, Ross held up his hands and laughed lightly.

“I’m just saying, I mean, isn’t that how it works? You take a test and bish bash bosh, baby.”

With a snort I knocked into him lightly and rolled my eyes, “Sure, exactly like that.”

“You know what I mean.” He retorted, mimicking the movement before he glanced back down at the test he had yet to let go of. “Or you could take another? Just to be sure?”

I tongued at the inside of my cheek, thinking it over. I almost didn’t want to, one pregnancy test could be a fluke, but two? Even three? I’d have a fucking world class breakdown, move over Matty cause I’d definitely be taking the place as the groups most unhinged, or maybe I already was. Probably. We’d have to have a debate the next time I remembered. We liked those.

“Come on, Carls won’t mind and look,” Ross pushed, standing up and turning away from me, “I’ll even turn around so I don’t see.”

With a chuckle, I couldn’t bring myself to say no. Doing this once on my own had been hard enough, if I had to try again I don’t know what I’d do. “Alright.” I whispered and took another test from the box.

“You need me to hum or something?” Ross asked after a moment of shuffling from me. I turned the tap back on to try and cover up the sound, because I’d always been an awkward sort of pee-er. Was that even a word? But still struggled.

“Maybe. Or try the shower.”

“What like turning it on?” I could hear the frown in his voice.

“No, get in it, dickhead. Yes, I meant turn it on!”

“Fucking hell.” He muttered under his breath as he moved to do so, “Hope the baby doesn’t get your patience.”

I tossed the empty box at his back, “Don’t say that!”

The fucking prick laughed.

“Alright, alright! Go on. I can’t hear anything now.”

Thankfully, that big bottle Carly had given me as well as the one I’d been nursing in the car and then outside came into clutch then and I managed to go again.

I flushed and washed my hands, drying them off on the hand towel before telling Ross he could turn back around.

“How long do we wait then?” He questioned from over my shoulder, making me jump.

Stilling my racing heart, I let out a breath. “Two minutes or so.”

Ross hummed from behind me then moved to the side to wrap me up in his arms again, it was nice having someone there this time around, like finding shelter in a rainstorm.

And so we waited. The seconds felt eternal and the minutes passed excruciatingly slow, but eventually, eventually, we had to look.

I bit my lip. “I can’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Why the fuck not, he asks! I’m fucking terrified, Ross. I can’t be a mum! I hardly even a person, let alone an actual adult!” I stressed, breathing heavier now that even I noticed it, but Ross only pulled me closer and looked down at me.

“You’re incredible. You hear me? You’ve looked after us lot for years, so I know you’ll fucking ace this shit without even having to try. You’re brilliant, B. Everyone who’s ever met you can tell you as much. If you’re pregnant, then you’ll deal with it like you do everything. But you won’t be doing it alone. You’ve got us. You’ve got a family. And most of all, you’ve got G. He’d do anything for you. A baby will only solidify that. Do you really think he’d leave you high and dry?” He must’ve seen the look that crossed my face when he said that because he blinked, “You do, don’t you?”

“It’s not- I’m-” I stuttered, unable to really defend myself against that statement because a small part of me was scared of exactly that. “I love him, Ross. I do. I just-”

“You’re scared it’ll be like before.” He finished for me and all I could do was nod and he squeezed me a little tighter, “Well, I know that he won’t. Wouldn’t fucking survive it, the idiot. Last time was a fluke. And as much as he hurt you, you know it was his fault for not dealing with his shit, not yours. Never yours. Yeah?”

I nodded again against his chest.

“G won’t leave though, that I can promise you. But, and this is a BIG but, if he did, you’d have me, and you’d have Matty, and Hann and Carly. Denise and Delia and everyone else. You wouldn’t be alone. Never, ever will you be alone, B.”

My eyes were stinging again, “But what if I’m not good enough either? What if I leave? What if I’m exactly like her?”

Her.

And immediately Ross knew just who I was talking about.

“You’re nothing like your mum, love. No where near. Of that I can fucking assure you. You love with everything you’ve got. Like a light house in a stormy sea, you. Lure just about everyone in with your warmth and charm.” He pressed his chin to the top of my head, rocking us again. “What I would give to let you see yourself through my eyes. I swear. And that baby, or any future baby you have, will be the luckiest kid around to be able to call you their mum. Alright?”

Fucking Ross MacDonald.

“Do you enjoy making me cry?” I asked him through a wet chuckle, squinting up at him now with tear stained cheeks. I gave a sigh when he reached up to wipe them away.

“Only happy tears, yeah? Fucking seeing you cry because of anything else makes me feel like I’ve just been hit by a bus.”

Scoffing out a laugh I couldn’t help, I shook my head at him. “Love you. I know we don’t say that much but I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

He grinned down at me, “Probably sob in the bath, or maybe make an escape out through the window?”

“Maybe.” I smiled.

“You ready yet?”

I chewed on my lip for a hesitant moment then dipped my head, Ross released me and instead took my hand. We both seemed to simultaneously take a deep breath, glancing at one another and then the sink.

“Together?”

“Together.”

He reached for it and I had to keep myself from squeezing my eyes tightly shut, stomach tightening with the butterflies that crowded my insides.

We looked down at the same time before glancing back towards each other.

Ross broke the silence, “Dibs on being godfather.”

— GEORGE’S POV—

September brought the cold. It was more prominent this year though it seemed, barely out of August and already he was in a hat and coat. Still, he’d left knowing he’d be out for quite a while and didn’t want to catch something from freezing his arse off, especially with Birdie being in and out of hospital. She was more susceptible to infection at the minute, since having had her spleen removed after the accident it had been something she’d often struggled with. They’d had a meningitis scare not too long back, big enough to warrant a couple weeks off work but not life threatening. To her at least, George on the other hand had had his balls pulled out through his arse, or that’s what it’d felt like being so constantly on edge. Everything turned out okay in the end though, more than even. Because it was then that he’d learnt about the tiny Baby Daniel she’d been housing.

And what a fucking thought that was. A baby. An entire other person. Both his and hers to keep. Though he only hoped that they got more of her than him.

It had been quite the revelation, watching on as a swarm of nurses wheeled his wife off on a gurney after having just told him the baby was doing fine. Even now it had a way of rendering him utterly speechless.

It was all he’d been able to think about ever since. Will the baby like the colour blue? Will they be a boy, or a girl? Will they have his eyes or hers, her smile or his? He prayed to whatever God that was out there that they only got her nose. Birdie thought his suited him, but he’d keep on wishing any way.

There’d also been the questions that shone a bright sodding stage-light on all of his insecurities. Illuminated them like the Blackpool Tower for every fucker else to see. Matty’d been the first to clock on though, or the first to come and speak to him about it, it’d done him a world of wonder to get it off his chest and have that reassurance, but even now it continued to make him nervous, had him wondering whether or not he’d ever be good enough, if he deserved to have something so precious of his own. But then he’d always struggled with that, hadn’t he, and he was still learning. Adapting, in a sense. These things took time.

He continued to think about it though, about everything which surrounded the baby, as he wandered through a field of dew covered grass, being respectful enough of the aging stone graves that dotted the cemetery as he went. The one he was looking for was further in the back, settled in a plot next to a few others with the same surname.

George took the time to think and settle his nervous thoughts as he made his way on over, revising the map on his phone every few minutes. It was a rather large cemetery, with oversized oak trees and moss that clung to ancient tombs and mausoleums, so it took him a while to finally find it but when he did the nerves he’d been feeling and the anxiety he’d expected failed to hinder him. In fact, he hardly felt anything at all and moved towards the three graves without much thought.

They each bared the same headstone, only difference was that one was much newer than the remaining two. They all had their own inscriptions but it had been a little while since he’d last visited and so he took the time to allow his eyes to wander over the cursive.

‘No Man Is Indispensable But Some Are Irreplaceable.’

‘Too well loved to ever be forgotten, here lies a loving Father, a Husband and a Son.'

And finally,

‘A woman made of strength and love lies here, today she dances with angels.’

“Heya, Nana.” George greeted in a low murmur, eyes already a little wet as he drew closer to the end plot, “It’s been a while but I’ve brought you your favourites, peonies from Birdie’s shop, blue just like your eyes. She wrapped them up real nice too, but when does she ever not?” George gave a light chuckle at that, placing down the backpack he held and moving around the grave to clear it of any fallen debris, replacing the old flowers with the new.

He rubbed at his nose and stuffed his hands into his coat pockets before taking a seat by her headstone, gaze lingering on the words Birdie had chosen alongside Dee all those years ago now. Dancing with angels, he grinned at the very thought, and dealing with the Devil, he added. Nana had always been one to try her luck, just as wonderfully wild as her granddaughter, and George reckoned she’d probably bested the hellish bastard by now, overthrown him and all.

“Lot’s changed, you know.” He told the woman, “Dee’s met some fella, handsome bloke mind, but they’ve taken her taxi and decided to travel across Europe in it. In Germany now, though I wouldn’t be surprised if they phoned us up tomorrow claiming to be in Egypt. But you know her, she’s a free spirit. Should be back by February though, that’s just before the baby’s due. Yeah, not hers though- could you imagine?”

George couldn’t help the cackle that escaped him at that and was immensely grateful for the fact that no-one else seemed to be wandering around anywhere close. “Sorry, sorry, but yeah. No it’s Birdie. She’s nearing fourteen weeks now. Can you picture it? Us two with a little one. My dad can’t wait, neither can the lads. Reckon you’d be dancing about too if you were still here, telling everyone to quit their fussing then make B a brew just how she likes.”

He let a quiet settle, smiling softly as the morning breeze flittered past.

“I know she misses you. Kills her to not have you here to see it all. But,” He took a moment, “I understand why, never met anyone quite like you, doubt I ever will. You took me in without a care for the consequences. Let me stay with you each summer, listened to me moan on about the band and music, came to our first few London gigs.” He cracked a smile at the reminder, “Can still picture those shirts you and Dee made, reckon B has them stashed away somewhere. Have to ask. But as much as I’d love to stay and chat all day, I promised myself I’d say hi to Charlie over there and stop by to talk to her Dad for a bit.”

George was careful as he stood back up, laying a hand over Nana’s name before wiping off the damp grass which clung to his jeans and stepping away.

He only had to walk a few short steps before he was grinning at the grave sat beside Nana’s, he made quick work of pulling out a bottle of Scotch from his bag as well as a shot glass, then placed them both down on the cold marble. Just as he did each time they visited, he poured the man a hearty glass and spoke to him about his favourite football team. “Hiya, Charlie. West Ham’s fourth on the league table at the minute, mate. Doing alright this year, but Cities still in first so, guess they’ll have to try just a bit harder.”

With a light laugh, George patted the man’s headstone before finally wandering over to the next, to where Birdie’s father lay, the man she idolised most.

He took a deep breath feeling a little fearful suddenly, but not of the situation, rather of disappointing the man. Of this whole thing going tits up. But this was something he’d wanted. Felt he needed to do. So he let go of the air inside his lungs and, just as he did by Nana, he took a seat by the man’s grave.

“We’ve never spoken much, you and I.” He begun, voice quieter now than it had just been, “But I know B visits when she can. I brought you a bird actually, little statue thing with these stones embedded in its eyes, B reckons they’ll bring peace, but I think you’ve already found that now. Still, it reminds me of her, a Song Thrush, they’re pretty and sing like a poet.”

Leaning in closer, George took time placing the statue where he thought it would last the longest and smiled softly before going back to his bag to pull out a colourful wind spinner, he stuck in the damp soil near his leg before he spoke again.

“Dee also likes to talk about you, says you had a thing for wind chimes and these things. Can see the appeal, they’re nice to watch, let you know which way the wind’ll blow. Said you also would’ve liked me too, and I can only hope she’s right.” He laughed quietly to himself, thumbing the ring on his left hand. “Be a bit messy if you didn’t though, ‘cause I love her more than anything. Do anything she asks, go anywhere she pleases. She’s like my own little wind spinner in a sense, can never tell which way I’m going with her but I know we’ll never stop spinning.

“I know I should’ve made this trip a long while ago. Maybe after we got back, maybe even before that. I have no excuse except for the fact that I’ve been a bit scared to ask this of you, because I know I’ll never really hear your honest answer. I can only pray that you’d be happy for her.”

It had been something he’s wanted to do since he was a teenager, ever since that first trip down to London, but after all these years of having clung to the man’s lighter he felt like he sort of knew him in a way. Knew that the dent in its side was from the way he used to knock his hip off of the radiator back in Nana’s house when climbing the stairs. Saw the way the striker wheel had been changed a long while back, different to the original but very very close. And how the hinge had been struck a few times to keep the lid from going floppy. He cared a great deal for the things he owned and it showed how much he loved the gifts he’d been given, seeing as though he had gotten it from his own father before Birdie had ever been born.

It was a strange concept, but it brought George a little peace.

“I don’t know if you heard, I know that Nana tends to gossip, but you’ll be a grandfather soon.” George told him with a wide smile as he pulled to his wallet to look down at the first Ultrasound picture they’d been given. “They’re a lot bigger now. This was when I first found out though. That daughter of yours had known for a week or two by that point. But I was over the moon and also terrified, so I can see how she kept it under wraps for so long. We’ve got a few names going in the raffle, our friends all want to have the honour of naming them, but B and I are waiting for the perfect one.”

George let his thumb brush over the picture before he sat it up and open on the grave, leaving it there until he had to go.

“I’ve known Birdie for so long now, she doesn’t know it but since the day I laid eyes on her she’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I would’ve taken anything she’d have given me. Whether that’d been a passing look or a chance at just being her mate. So when were younger and finally together, I thought I’d won the lottery. And I had. But then we got to speaking about marriage. What we wanted in the future, if kids would ever come into the picture, what house we’d buy. Just things you speak about with someone like that. Yeah, we’d been young but we’d both been through a lot. We knew more than most. Had experienced it.

“But anyway, when she’d said she never wanted any of that. Couldn’t see it for herself, and I understood. Broke my fucking heart a bit, but I’d’ve given her the stars if I could’ve. Even now. So it’s funny how it all changed. We’re married and there’s that baby on the way. Though, now that we’ve done it, now that we’ve acknowledged the fact that this thing we were both a little wary of is something we can have without the fear and terror, I want to do it properly, you know? So I thought it was only respectful to come and ask you first.”

And there was that nervousness finally, but it was out in the open now. Perhaps it was silly asking a man long since buried this question but it just felt right.

“I don’t think we’ll have big ceremony or anything even if she does say yes, we’re not the type. But at least then we can say we did it right, and as much as I now love that little elopement of ours, I really want her to know how much I love her. That I will forever be hers. In both heart and mind. And that I’m proud to bare this ring.”

George swallowed thickly at the onslaught of emotions this trip had pulled from him, then wiped under his nose. He picked up his wallet and folded it away then took his stand, running a hand through his hair as he tried to get ahold of himself, didn’t want to start sobbing his way back to the carpark now. Though it was a near thing.

“Right, I’d best be off anyway. Said I’d pick B up some strawberries from the market, she’ll only eat them at the minute, pairs them with this horrid jam as well. It’s proper grim but I’d never say a bad thing about it. Spent ages consoling her the one time Matty did. But he’s a nightmare that never learns.” He scratched at the nape of his neck after having shouldered his bag, feeling the effects of this outing already. “I’ll make sure to visit soon, with Birdie and then the baby too hopefully.”

He glanced down at the wind spinner then and was surprised to see it had stopped spinning, he frowned slightly at the sight and double checked to see if he could still feel the breeze, he did, it was hard not to in truth. So slowly he made his way back over and just as he begun to crouch down the thing started spinning once more.

George blinked down at it, once then twice, and then simply laughed. Hoping that maybe it’d been some sort of sign.

“I’ll look after her.” He promised, sparing one last glance to the final grave before he made his way back to the car.

—

The moving van reached the house long before I did, but I was just thankful that George had been able to take the time off to get there earlier than me. I parked up in a bay and waddled down the pavement to peer into the back of it, smiling when I found that almost half of it had already been moved inside. Which was good for me, seeing as though I’d hardly be of any help, pregnant or not.

“B!” I heard someone shout out and turned to find Matty stood on the top step of the familiar terraced house, he waved me closer but jogged down the steps to greet me once I’d made it over, “Figured you get here a little later, G and I are just setting up the living room.”

“Really?” I questioned in surprise, grateful when he took my arm to help me up the stairs and into the house. I grinned at the familiar feeling that washed over me upon walking in.

“Really.” Matty laughed, taking my coat and hanging it amongst the rest by the door. The little gentleman. If I’d only known that it’d just take me turning into a whale to get Matty to wait on me hand and foot I’d’ve done it sooner. Not even G was as bad as him. “Your Nana had good taste though, so I can see why you and George don’t wanna change much.”

I grinned, glad that he saw it too. We’d been gifted the house in Bethnal Green by Dee after the reading of Nana’s will, she wanted us to have a proper home for the little one and figured it would be the best place for us. And my God was it. It was everything I’d dreamed of and more. It filled me with so much happiness to know that my child would be growing up in the environment I loved most when I’d been little.

“Where is he, anyway?” I asked, leaning against the bannister to peer up the main stairs and at the landing, we’d had some builders in to change a few things since the house had been signed over and I hadn’t yet seen it all fully finished.

“Who, G?” Matty said and at my nod he went on, “Left him in the living room, we were trying to put together a cabinet, probably still in there.”

We both chuckled and wandered in through the side door to find George sat on the living room floor just behind the sofa looking very close to fuming. “Fuck sake, Matty! When you said a minute, I thought you were joking! Whole fucking thing collapsed on me the second you left, you prick!”

“Oi, no swearing around the baby, please.” Matty scolded, though he looked all too pleased with himself, and I watched on as George angled his head further backwards to see me stood in the doorway. I waved.

“Birdie! Thank fuck someone capable has arrived. Be a love and help me up, would you?”

I laughed and moved to do just that before Matty’s indignant squark stopped me in my tracks, “I don’t think so, mate. Get yourself up. I’ll take B into the kitchen, get you some tea, yeah? Were you at the shop long?”

I bit my lip to keep from cackling at the expression that overwhelmed G’s face then but was already being dragged away.

“I can still do shit you know.” I said to Matty before being steered onto a barstool, I let him get away with it though, observing how effortlessly he worked his way around the kitchen, switching on the kettle and pulling out the milk from the massive fridge George had insisted on buying.

“Language.” Matty reminded me and I could only roll my eyes, “And I know, you just shouldn’t have to.”

“That so?” I hummed around a smile.

Matty nodded, pulling the few glasses we’d brought over for visits during construction onto the counter, “Look, the way I see it, the baby’s not here yet so if you want, I don’t mind offing G and telling everyone the kid’s mine. I mean, you saw him in there,” He shook his head all serious like, “It ain’t on, B. Got to cut your loses while you still can.”

“Sorry, what was that?” I sorted at George’s sudden arrival, wondering how this would all go down and decided to stir the pot a bit.

“Matty reckons I’d be better off making a run for it while I still can, already got a car ready and waiting for when I say the word.”

George shook his head in veiled amusement and stepped further into the kitchen to swipe a tea towel against Matty’s backside. “Keep talking like that and I’ll see to it that you never meet my baby, you dick.”

“Swearing!” Matty once again reminded the pair of us and I couldn’t help my incessant giggling now, eyes darting back and forth between the pair, “And I dare you to try, George Daniel. I have rights!”

“What rights!”

“Godfatherly rights!”

“Fuck off, Ross claimed that already.”

“Swearing! And I don’t care you can have more than one godfather!”

“No, we’ve discussed this already.”

“No we have not.”

“Yes, we have.”

“No, we have not.”

“Matty.”

“George!”

George groaned dramatically and decidedly tossed the tea towel he still had in hand at Matty’s head, the curly haired singer grunted before throwing it right back at him, then turning to me.

“B, tell him.” He was all but whining now.

“George, Matty can be whatever he likes.”

Matty practically beamed upon hearing that whilst G just scowled, “Over my dead body.”

“That’s fine. I can make do.”

George rolled his eyes at the blatant threat, but threw himself into the chair beside me to press his forehead against the counter instead of replying. I ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s okay, babe. He’ll give up once he realises it’ll mostly just be shitty nappies and crying until they’re old enough to walk.” I reassured but Matty didn’t think much of it.

“I fucking won’t.”

George shot straight back up at that with a grin as big as Matty’s ego on his face and I already knew what he was going to say.

“Language, Matthew! And in front of your godchild too, shame.”

Although Matty looked shocked to have let the curse accident slip, his whole demeanour changed when he truly internalised George’s words. “Wait, actually?”

George laughed, glancing at me before slinging an arm around my waist, “We decided on it a while ago, mate. Baby Daniel will have the typical four godparents, only thing is you, Hann and Ross will have to decide between yourselves on who’s the second godmother.”

I rolled my eyes at that, but still found myself unable to stop grinning. The baby was set to have three godfathers at this point and then Carly, who we’d already asked, as a godmother. It was a lucky little thing and had yet to even be born.

“I don’t even care. I’ll throw on a pair of tits and a wig if it gets me an in.”

George barked a loud laugh at his best mate’s reply and I could only chuckle alongside him as Matty handed me over my tea, grateful to have them both, as well as the rest of my family. It wasn’t long now either before the baby would soon come along too, another thing I’d forever be grateful for.

And to think, I barely resembled the girl I’d once been, it was strange to see all that I’d been given.

I wouldn’t waste it.

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wormtime123 · 3 months

Note

Hey hello I just finished binging dramaturgy in like. A day. 2 days? I don't really know tbh

I downloaded it on my kindle the moment the epilogue was released and I must say. Brain explosion, insanity, screaming crying throwing up

The plot twists genuinely made me audibly scream a little bit, I've never encountered twists in a fic that's genuinely caught me off guard. And it happened like 3 times in the space of one chapter???

All the characters feel so real. I can hear their voices and their flaws are so believable. You've fully and successfully recruited me into being a soup group fan. We are big fans of pearl here at trader scars.

It is 1am and I am experiencing so many emotions, I've never keyboard spammed in a friend's dms with such genuine feeling. Here is a tidbit

(I don't know if there's a way to spoiler these, but if anyones reading this and hasn't read dramaturgy- BIG WARNING SPOILER)

This is going straight into my top ten fav fanfics ever. I even somehow did fanart for this before reading it,,,, funnily enough. Here ya go !!

I think it's getting too close to 1:30am now. I planned to be asleep 3 hours ago but. Oh well. Uhh. Very good fic. thank you kindly for sharing with us 👍👍👍✨️

WAUGHHH HOLY SHIT I LOVE THE ART THIS IS AMAZING!!!? 💥💥 even without context you captured the ominous energy of this scene so well … i can’t stress enough how much joy this has brought me even just seeing y’all react to it. absolutely amazing. infinite dopamine straight to my brain

thank you so much for this and very sorry for the delayed response, i just hope you know how much i truly appreciate this bc mentally i am running in circles

#also hope you don’t mind me adding this to my tag #dramaturgyAU #so i can find it again hahaha

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writingquestionsanswered · 1 year

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Hello! So the short version is: do you or anyone else have advice/tips on writing friendship that evolves into a qpr?

More details: I have a story with a large ensemble cast which are all varying degrees of good friends with each other, but I have two specifically (both female, one is aroace and the other is demi) that begin as just friends but I want to have them end up in a queer-platonic relationship by the end of the story (living together by the ending, and years later in the epilogue raising/having raised two children together.) What I’d like tips on is how to realistically/convincingly write that evolution from friends to more without it accidentally straying too far into looking romantic? (If it matters, this is all in a fantasy medieval setting, but homophobia isn’t widespread just to make my life easier.)

Queerplatonic Life Partners

What you're looking to portray here is a "platonic life partnership" or PLP, or more specifically, a "queerplatonic partnership" or QPP.

Life partnerships are similar to romantic partnerships in that they choose one another as lifelong partners, are deeply committed to that partnership, and do many of the things romantic partners do, just without any romance or s*x. They often live together, share property and possessions, share finances, raise children and/or animals together, and sometimes even marry.

PLPs and QPPs are different from just a "close friendship" because the partnership involves the commitment, validation, structure, norms, profound emotional connection, and even status that exists with romantic partnerships--again, just without the romance and s*x.

To write the evolution of this type of relationship:

1- Establish/Evolve the Friendship - How do they meet? What is their first interaction? What commonalities sparks a kinship between them? What do they like about one another that makes them want to be friends?

2 - Establish/Evolve the Bond - As they continue to meet up and interact, how do their shared commonalities inspire them to share more about themselves? What memories, hopes, fears, dreams, and beliefs are shared that help them get to know each other? What situations can give them reasons to put their trust in one another and start relying on one another?

3 - Discovery of Mutual Ideology and Life Goals - The most important element of a PLP and QPP is that the couple discovers that they share a mutual ideology and life goals. In other words, they have the same mindset in terms of how they want to live their lives and what they want to do with their lives. So, what are the ideologies they share? What small and big life goals to they have in common? How do they discover that they have these ideologies and goals in common? Where are the differences and how do they accommodate those?

4 - The Dreaming and Planning Stage - Once they realize they want the same things, they'll make the commitment to follow that path side by side. Now they can dream together of the possibilities and start planning. Depending on where they are currently, this may be as far as things can go for now, though part of their commitment will be helping each other get to the point where their dreams and plans can be brought to fruition.

5 - The Pieces Fall Into Place - If the story is about the setup and creation of this mutual life they're going to share, you will show all the pieces falling into place as they accomplish each step to make that life a reality. Or, if your story is about something else, you might not focus on the actual achievements but either have them happening in the background, or even have them occur off the page between the denouement and the epilogue. It just depends on what works best for your story, but if you have the ability to show them living this happy life together, you definitely should. Otherwise, you can project it for the reader by having them daydream about how things will be. In some cases, you might even work in an actual dream one of the characters has about living in that time when they are sharing the life they dreamed of. Again whatever works for your story!

Bonus - The Ups and Downs - Even without romance and s*x, PLPs and QLPs experience some of the same ups and downs as romantic partnerships, they're just not motivated by romance and s*x. But there can be ups and downs related to finances, conflicting goals and ideals, disagreement about how things should be done, triumphs of successes and disappointment in failures, arguments over silly things and fights over big things, and unbridled joy in the happy moments. So, make sure to include those every step of the way, from the meeting to the pieces falling into place.

Most of all--have fun with it! ♥

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loosesodamarble · 27 days

Note

Hi Erika! For your ship game, can I get your thoughts on Obanai x Mitsuri (kny), Jellal x Erza (Fairy Tail), Lumiere x Secre (BC), and if I can be a little bold (and because I’m very curious), Henry x my oc Lorelei? Also, if you haven’t gotten asked about them Nacht x Josele (but I’m sure you’ve been asked already). Please 💖 Thank you! (Sorry if that is too much 😅)

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Oh Acacia, you absolutely SPOIL ME! 🥰💖

Buckle up, folks, this’ll be a long post.

…..

To start, there shall be a trend in these ships that boils down to “brooder and comforter.” One half of the couple is a bit (or maybe a lot) down on themselves and their partner is the warm embrace they need in life. The dynamic will forever and always be beautiful to me, just as much as “two pure sweethearts.”

Obanai x Mitsuri

Makes sense and 1000% compelled by it.

Obviously Obanai and Mitsuri fit that to a tee! Obanai is very clearly a broody boy and he states outright that Mitsuri saved him with her cheerfulness and smile. But it would be a massive disservice to the ship to ignore that Obanai also was Mitsuri's comforter in a way. She felt the way that he looked at her with affection whenever they were together which meant the world to her since she felt like it would be hard to love. They never judged each other and felt loved with one another and AAAAHHHHH HADKJHFLKAUHEILTHALEKTHKAEJG!

I know I've brought this up in the past but it bears repeating that I love this ship so much that I managed to work it into a college paper about depictions of (failed) romance in Japanese literature. Because, well, in a sense Obanai and Mitsuri's love wasn't successful. Let me share a bit of that essay to get my point across.

This mutual but unrecognized love is best described by the chapter title revealing Obanai’s backstory. The Japanese title is “hitsūna renjō” (悲痛な恋情) which I would translate as “a painful, miserable romance.” Mitsuri and Obanai’s feelings of self-loathing make their love a painful burden on their hearts. Even their confession is ultimately tragic, as both are in tears and on the cusp of death when their feelings come out.

Then again, the cycle of reincarnation allowed that love to continue and be acted upon. Still, this ship makes me VIBRATE with all the emotions. It's so unfair that Gotoge was able to invest me in this romance with only brief snippets and a small reassuring epilogue. And then the fandom just hammers the stake deeper into my heart. ObaMitsu. Beloved ship~!

.....

Jellal x Erza

OOOOHHHHHH! Man, it's been forever and a half since I really watched Fairy Tail but Jerza is that ship that sticks with you (and Gajevy but that wasn't the ship asked for, now was it).

So much sense is made with the ship and it'll never not compel me.

Again, Jellal is the more blatant brooder but Erza has plenty of moments of hitting low points (and it's usually over Jellal). And again, they both act as a source of hope in each other's lives. These two knew each other as kids and they made strong impressions on each other clearly. I mean, Jellal made some strong impressions on many people for a variety of not good reasons... ANYWAYS! It makes so much sense that Erza is always holding out hope for Jellal because his turn to darkness back in the day was very out of the blue so deep down in her heart, she'd know that something wasn't quite right. And even as she loves him, Erza expects Jellal to take responsibility for his actions. You talked about it yourself when discussing this ship but with Jerza, their personal feelings don't immediately mean Jella's sins/crimes can be ignored. He has to work to right them and fix himself. Jellal changes not because he's browbeaten into it but because he wants to be better for Erza. And Jellal isn't the only one changing. Erza is able to open up and let herself wish a little more because the trauma of their history is slowly being healed. Their love is such a journey. Multiple times they're pulled apart before finding each other again. And each time they meet, they heal a little more, grow a little closer.

.....

Lumiere x Secre

I won't say as much about these two as the others but I'm still a sucker for them!

In this case, Secre is the brooding soul while Lumiere is her comfort. She looked down on herself and her magic while Lumiere saw potential and inspiration. Lumiere gave Secre something to hope for and she gave him devotion. The way Secre's love endures over the centuries and she remembers to have hope from Lumiere's example is something that makes their love really special without them ever having to be in a relationship. We don't get Lumiere's perspective on Secre directly but the fact that he named his super special magic tool (the big spherical one) after her says quite a bit to me. She's important and special and helpful in Lumiere's eyes. Secre living on while Lumiere moves onto the afterlife is sad but he wishes her more happiness in a continuing future, even without him. It's an ending of separation but not of mourning and it's beautiful (even if I wish Lumiere could've stuck around).

.....

Henry x Lorelei

UwU CC x OC time~!

I actually did read the fic where they meet a bit ago. It's just in my queue for reblogging. But ooooooohhhhhhh! I CAN GUSH HERE!

So I will be real, there is one detail of the ship that doesn't make sense to me. But that's Tabata's fault for making it that even low mana people feel drained by an extended exposure to Henry's mana draining. It's just unfair that really no one but Asta can safely be around him with his curse in place. So it's not on you. You made every other aspect of the ship wonderful. Henry definitely would fall for someone as openly sweet as Lorelei and her sense of whimsy is a wonderful complement to Henry's loneliness. The way he so shyly begins to talk to her is so in character and I think adding Lorelei to Henry's backstory helps explain why he's easily able to just talk to Yami and later Asta since he now has experience meeting someone new. Lorelei's Lucky Magic seems interesting (and fits in with David's Dice Magic) and well, I think it brought luck to both her and Henry. And do I even need to say it but this ship got me hooked with one fic. It may need more time in the microwave before it finds a permanent spot in my heart but... I'm digging the vibes already.

…..

Nacht x Josele

YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

I’ve talked Nacsele before for the ask game but I’m gonna talk again!

GAAAAHHHH! The way Nacht always loved Josele and was content(?) to simply love her from afar... Josele harboring her love for Nacht when she felt he didn't love her back... It gets so messy when she's with Morgen because he truly did make her happier than words could say. But half of Josele's heart was with Nacht. And when they finally get together, after much heartache and soul searching and doubting, it's gorgeous. Nacht is so hesitant about the relationship that he doesn't even call Josele his girlfriend for a while because he still sees Josele as Morgen's love. Josele too was hesitant, not wanting to risk her happiness being destroyed again, but once she got a talking to from one of the Bulls, she embraced the chance to be with Nacht and helps him with his steps into the future.

AND I LOVE THEIR FUTURE TOGETHER! Josele never really stops mourning Morgen and the future they could've had. But she doesn't lose sight of the future she's attained with Nacht. She loves Nacht and the way he's able to forgive himself. And Nacht accepts that Josele will always have Morgen in her heart, he really wouldn't have it any other way. Nacht slowly but surely frees himself of his guilt and self-loathing to full embrace all the affection that Josele always had for him.

My ship... I love...

..........

AND I LOVED TALKING ABOUT AAAAALLLLL THESE SHIPS! AAADJHGLKHAIUHAETKJHAETUHUI!

Thanks for the chance to ramble, Acacia~!

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stusbunker · 9 months

Text

Tattered: Epilogue

A Supernatural A/B/O Fanfiction Series

Featuring: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam

Word Count: ~3250

Warnings, etc: Just some thoughts and kitchen sex

Series Masterlist

Reader

The house is entirely too quiet as I park the van. No shrieking voices wafting from the playroom or doors swinging open on the chance that I brought home snacks. I still don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. But school days loom ahead of us for the next ten months and another twelve years after that. My babies are school aged and it tightens my chest in grief as much as it soothes my mind with the idea of free time.

My Alphas have both had their adjustment periods. However, I have been nominated for drop off duty indefinitely after Dean cried so hard he couldn’t see the road on the first day of school.

Sam’s excuse is that he prefers to run in the mornings.

Oh well, I don’t have to deal with the pick up queue and for that I am grateful. I hang up my keys as I step inside the eerily peaceful house. Sam’s in the shower, water audible even downstairs. I beeline for the kitchen and a second cup of coffee and debate what I should do before I have to run back into town to mail out deliveries for Bobby’s online parts business.

I jump when I find Dean at the table, coffee in one hand and a book in the other, which makes sense why I didn’t hear his thoughts because he tends to get lost in the story and I can’t tap into his feelings when he’s lost to his imagination.

He smirks and I try to play it cool.

He pretends to keep reading as I fix my coffee, his amusement bright on the air. I run my fingers through his hair as I brush past him on the way to my usual spot and his brow softens before he goes back to his book for real. I watch Dean read, relishing in the ordinary of the little pucker of his lips as he thinks, the shadow of stumble along his jaw, the ease in which we all exist these days. I can’t help but get a little emotional over how far we’ve come as mates, as a family.

I must be dwelling because Dean reaches out his hand, palm side up against the table and I grab onto it as he continues his literary journey and I sip my coffee with my opposite hand. Reassured and supported.

Sam joins us and disrupts the quiet with the shrill whirl of the blender for his daily smoothie. And as much as Dean hems and haws about it, he’s not actually mad. He winks at me over his probably cold coffee and I nudge his foot beneath the table. Sam sits down opposite me, smelling clean and enthusiastic.

“It’s so quiet,” he huffs a little in disbelief.

“Cherish it, it’s only seven hours a day,” I remind him.

“Right?!” Dean emphasizes using a coupon for the new fro-yo place as a bookmark. He leans back and stretches out his arms. In just a t-shirt and jeans, I get a good view of his strong torso and gorgeous arms. He holds the stretch and I pull my feet up under the table to rest against his lap.

Sam eyes me over his fancy smoothie tumbler and I consider moving upstairs, and taking them both back to bed.

Dean sinks back into his chair, hands finding my calves beneath the table and starts rubbing them gently. God, those hands. My eye lids droop in the pleasure of Dean’s grip, head lolling back as I laze in place. Sam gets up and rinses out his dishes, and when he’s done he makes his own move onto my shoulders. Sam’s hands are massive and no matter how many ways he touches me, I always feel safe.

I fall into the sensations, Dean’s thumbing into the arch of my foot and Sam working out the knot between my shoulder blades that I get from bedtime stories and too much time at a computer. It’s the happy kind of ache. Before I even realize it I’m mush. And Dean is having one of those silent conversations with Sam over my head. I can hear their intent, naked, table, Omega. But most of all I feel the pride and the hunger of their thoughts.

I can’t hold back the shiver as Dean twists the fabric of my leggings against my thighs and pulls, lifting my hips from my chair and dragging my pants off with expert fingers.

Sam leans down and kisses the side of my neck, chest hot behind me. Before I realize he’s no longer touching me, my chair scrapes against the stone floor, pulling me away from the table, baring my naked legs to them both. Dean’s out of his chair and rounding on me, eyes dark and playful. As Sam tugs at my sleeves, drawing my focus away from Dean as he rips my hoodie off of me, leaving me in nothing but my cami and panties.

I don’t know if I should lean back and keep making them work for it or stand up and take what I want.

Dean makes up my mind for me as he drops to the floor at my feet and starts kissing up my thigh. He watches me as I spread my legs open, want thickening in the space between us as he nibbles his way to my core. Sam’s not waiting his turn, instead he drapes himself over me and kisses me upside down. The fresh tartness of his smoothie still on his tongue, he invades my mouth.

I get a hand in his hair and I hold him there, meeting his every stroke.

Then Dean’s nuzzles against my seam, breathing and lapping against the patch of slick soaked cotton.

I can’t help but rock against his pretty face.

Sam’s long fingers delve down the front of my top, sure and steady they tease my nipples into peaks. I moan into his mouth and Dean drags me further off the seat of my chair, hoisting my legs over his shoulders one at a time. I squeeze him closer, but Sam’s pulling back and I can tell that he needs more of me than this angle allows.

I blink back to reality, watch Sam’s chest rise and fall as he takes stock of the room. Dean’s threading his knuckles into the legs of my panties, teasing me with the fabric as he sucks a bruise on my inner thigh. Everything is hot and churning and none of it is enough.

“Up, Dean,” Sam barks. And they’re lifting me by my thighs and my armpits and spreading me out across the table like a goddamn buffet. Dean works my panties off, but Sam just shoves my top down, getting his mouth on my tits as soon as he can. I arch into the heat of his mouth, snake my fingers into his hair and tug. My skin prickles with Sam’s deep growl.

Dean’s there to catch the next wave of slick fresh from the source. He slurps at my cunt and I twitch with the electricity humming beneath my skin. But they’ve only begun to pull me apart.

I drag Sam’s mouth to my own, my tongue challenges him for more. He breaks the kiss to catch his breath.

All I am and all I have is wet and empty.

I inhale deeply and reach for Sam’s waistband. He didn’t bother putting on shorts after his shower, his dick is heavy and thickening as I pull it out of his sweats. I realize I forgot breakfast, and take my fill anyway. He tosses his head back as I gaze up at him from the tabletop, all wide chest and damp hair. His huge hands clamp down on my chest and I loosen my jaw, breathe through my nose and let Sam fuck my throat.

My lips bump into the heat of his knot and I begin to drool from the fat of his shaft. I swallow instinctively making Sam moan my name. Dean pushes my legs further apart, and strokes my thighs as his soft lips pull on my clit, focusing all my pleasure on that tiny mesmerizing patch of nerve endings. He draws it out of me, and the tether of my climax starts to break loose, like a clothesline in a tornado.

Two thick, calloused fingers slide inside me and I start to cough in warning to Sam. He knowingly pulls out and almost immediately Dean is tapping against my g-spot, making me bend and writhe. And with one last wide swipe of his tongue, I explode, straining towards Dean’s face. Desperate and thrashing.

When I gather my bearings, Sam’s actually holding me down by the wrists and by the looks of Dean it’s because I decided to use Dean’s ears as handles. His usually bright eyes are heavy with betrayal as he rubs the abused skin. “Easy!”

I can’t even pretend to be sorry. I sigh and shift against the wet patch beneath my ass. I look back up at Sam and tip my chin up, cracking my jaw wide as the pulsing of my channel ebbs away. Sam juts out his chin and sticks his tongue in his cheek, impressed with my gaul. I get my reward, my hands released and that satisfying, suffocating stretch of his cock back down my throat.

Dean, in retaliation, drags me by my hips to the other edge of the table, almost making me drop Sam. Fucker. But Sam follows, height in his favor as he rests his balls on the kitchen table and continues to fill my mouth, pumping gently as Dean drops trow and works himself up to fuck me himself. I feel and hear Dean’s actions, unable to see anything but the wood grain of the table top, Sam’s heavy sack and his slowly filling knot.

I tease Sam’s crown with my tongue, coaxing him deeper, harder.

Then I feel the welcome shift between my legs, the hot press of Dean on my swollen lips, and he’s home. They’re both home. With me. In me. Us. They move in sync, like a well oiled machine, slick and sleek and determined. Stuffing me until I come again on a silent cry. Sam’s got one hand on my shoulder, the other cupping my chin, caressing while holding me in place. Dean’s thumbing my clit, threatening through clenched teeth and I know how competitive he is, how he’s trying to rack up his come count while he’s got his hand on one of my magic buttons. His knot soon to drag against the other.

I know how sensitive his ears are, so it might be a little bit about revenge too. But it’s well worth it. I wiggle my hips and clench around his dick, taunting him back until he pulls out completely and I whine at the loss.

Dean fucking paints me with his seed, shoots over my cunt, thighs and belly. Though his knot is unfulfilled, he grunts and falls face first against the soft pooch left over from the pups, mouthing against my skin, he catches his breath.

I tremble from the sensitivity, but I still have another Alpha to satisfy. I reach down and pet Dean’s head before planting my feet on the edge of the table and shoving my chin against Sam’s pubes. My nose is filled with soap and Sam, his balls a cushion as I try to make him feed me his knot.

A noise catches in the back of Sam’s throat and he thrusts shallowly as I hum around him. I swallow and feel his wide tip catch, I keep swallowing, breathing through my nose. Growing desperate I hum deeper, try and use my tongue for better pressure.

Dean’s warm palm slides up my chest, both soothing and praising as I focus on Sam. I wish I wasn’t upside down, I wish I could see Sam’s face. Instead, I scream at him in my mind. And the bastard chuckles, stroking my chin he finally starts to really move, sharing in the work. I am a drooling, sated mess, but he’s still hard as ever.

Dean pulls himself off of my sticky body, dropping into Sam’s forgotten chair. Cautiously, I relax my jaw, easing Sam out of my mouth so I can finally face him. He grips his knot and watches me darkly, waiting to see what I’ll do next. I sit up and flick his shoulder before kissing him sloppy. His big hand holds my waist tight against him and he teases me with that sinful, long tongue.

We break apart and lock eyes. Sam smirks, so I know he’s on board.

“Dean? How should I finish Sam off?” I call over my shoulder, feeling my first Alpha thoughtful behind me. Sam and Dean have another silent conversation.

The moment stretches with anticipation and I shiver, reminding me that I am the only one completely naked.

“Bend her over the table, I want to watch her face when she comes the last time,” Dean decides finally.

I shriek as Sam hauls me off the table with a stiff forearm to my lower back, but I love it from behind so I settle face down and hoist myself up onto my tiptoes, giving Sam and his ridiculous height the best angle I can. He still has to squat to get low enough to notch at my entrance. But then he’s stretching me open once more and I sigh with the fullness.

I open my eyes and look across the table at Dean, and he licks then bites his bottom lip. Idly, he cups his junk, too soon for more, but it won’t be long. I can tell he’s making plans for the rest of our childfree hours. Sam picks up the pace and I gasp, making Dean chuckle.

Sam angles his hips down and I squeal as he drags against my g-spot, his knot burning against my swollen lips. Fuck, they’re ruining me all over again. Like always.

I fight to keep my eyes on Dean, but Sam’s really fucking me deep and my body wants to focus on all that heat and friction more than it wants to see how much my other Alpha approves. Sam smacks my ass and I clench and then it all comes crashing together inside: Dean’s jizz sliding against my belly as we further debauch the table, Sam stuffing his knot inside of me so hard, so fucking wide and my eyes burst open as I come one final time, gushing against both mine and Sam’s thighs.

“That’s it, there she is.” Dean’s husky voice makes me twitch.

I whine but Sam’s nipping across my shoulders as he leans down to catch his breath, bracing himself against the table. Then I inevitably fall asleep waiting for Sam’s knot to deflate.

We do eventually get decent and clean up after ourselves. And all of us go with to pick the kids up from school, because that’s the kind of saccharin crap our lives have become. It’s amazing and safe, however stressful, but still floors me so many years in.

Usually siblings aren’t kept in the same classrooms, but there aren’t enough kindergarten classes to completely separate our brood. Luckily, the administrators listened to us and let Jimmy and Sophie into the same class. Joni’s a social butterfly and we weren’t worried about her making friends.

Naturally, Joni is the first one out of the door and sprinting across the playground to reach the van. Dean rolls down my window and cheers her on. The rest of the school pours out of the doors in a steady stream of pigtails and oversized backpacks and not-yet-broken-in school shoes. Just as Joni reaches the back door Sam had slid open, I spot Sophi and Jimmy marching down the steps, hand-in-hand beside their teacher, who seems amused at whatever story Jimmy is telling her.

Sophie stops herself from eating her hair twice.

“We are having a field trip to a pumpkin farm!” Joni announces out-of-breath and ecstatic.

“Wow, princess. Lucky!” Dean replies.

Joni throws her arms around Sam’s neck and continues on at top volume. “We get to go on a hay ride and pick our own pumpkins to bring home with us!”

“Hey, I’m right here, okay?” Sam reminds her about inside voices.

“Sorry—- Can you come?! Ms. Mary says she will take any parents who can go,” she barely lowers her voice.

“Sure, peanut, we’ll look at the permission slip when we get home. Let’s get you in your seat,” Sam agrees and redirects.

Jimmy and Sophie take their time, heads bowed and backpacks so light and big they bounce off the backs of their legs.

“What else did you do today?” I ask Joni as we wait for the other two, turning in my seat.

“Um, gym? And we had broccoli at lunch.” She makes a face and Dean visibly shivers along with her.

“Gross!”

“Daddy!” She giggles at his exaggerated face of disgust.

“What? You don’t even like broccoli?!” Dean teases back.

“But you’re a grown up!” Joni reminds him, because he needs the reminder.

“Don’t mean I have to like gross food. Dad likes that crap, not me.” Dean explains.

“Nice,” Sam mutters, climbing out of the back seat to make room for the two pokey puppies.

“Hey guys!” Sam cups their heads with his big hands, hugging them awkwardly without bending over.

“Sophie’s sad, so we need some feel good tunes,” Jimmy explains.

“Tell Daddy, okay, buddy?” Sam tells Jimmy before bending down and scooping Sophie in a tight squeeze.

Jimmy climbs into the van and whispers into Dean’s ear, as much as a five-year-old can whisper. “She didn’t get her picture done and now she thinks the art teacher is mad at her. Back in Black, Daddy.”

Dean nods and glances at Sam and Sophie as they get settled into the van. Dean scrolls through his phone and finds the song, while I glance at Sam to see if speaking to Sophie is wise.

Sam straps her in as the familiar opening comes to life through the van’s well used speakers.

“This one goes out to Little Miss. Sophia Winchester, top of your lungs sweetheart!” Dean points at her until her sad little face cracks a smile and she sings along with Brian Johnson, getting half of the words wrong. Dean bobs his head, checks that Sam made it into the way back and pulls off the curb into the barely crawling line of SUVs and minivans.

We all join in on the chorus. And everyone is still singing along with the playlist as we pull back up to the house. We unbuckle the pups and collect their forgotten backpacks, letting them run around and relax before it’s time for dinner. One of the perks of living in the middle of nowhere, plenty of places to play.

I watch their little heads as they chase each other in the slanting sunshine of an autumn afternoon. Three whole pieces of my tattered heart roaming free, capable of bringing so much joy and so much ache. And then there’s the two reasons they’re here in the first place, my Alphas. The reasons my heart is so tattered to begin with, not just from all the pain we went through to get here, but because they loved me so fiercely the whole time.

And well-loved is something I’m grateful to be.

Tell me what you think?

Tagging: @idreamofdeanie @stoneyggirl2 @delightfullykrispypeach @dolphincliffs @flamencodiva @crashdevlin @dontshootmespence @thoughtslikeaminefield @rockhoochie @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @wingedcatninja @akshi8278 @itmighthavebeenintentional @smi727 @princessmisery666 @impalaslytherin

#spn fanfic #tattered #tattered: epilogue #spn a/b/o #dean/reader/sam

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wetcatspellcaster · 1 month

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The first thing I'll say after reading the chapter is - CAT!!!!

Also, my cat came up to me while I was reading, and fell asleep on me, so double cats!

Poor Rosalie, still being haunted, but now actively trying to ghosthunt, when the ghost suddenly does not want to be seen anymore 😔 hug for both of them!

Shadowheart's words made me hurt, because damn. She is so right, they all still did choose to do bad things, because they thought they were right, but also - hug for her too, she deserves it for acknowledging her faults and trying to be better. Love Shadowheart and how wise she is here ❤️

And knowing that Astarion wanted to Ascend in order to be able to protect Rose too, in some way, breaks my heart for him, because he probably understands how stupid it was, and how much pain he brought Rose with that decision, but also how he was hurt in the process too... Oh, it is such a deep can of worms to unearth, I love it 💔

Also, Astarion in a jumper! WITH THE CAT! So far away from scary Ascended, it melts my heart. And him being embarrassed over bargaining in on Rose taking a bath, so worried and willing to face her in case she got hurt again... Aww, is the only thing I can say.

Not me waiting for the epilogue chapter to be Rose and Astarion on a double date with the Dekarios family. And I'm never letting my cat be alone in proximity to Gale. Nope. Also, I'm trying to imagine Astarion's shock when the whole clan of Gale's children starts climbing all over him. That will be hilarious.

Poor Rosalie with her email. I know the struggle. She is still better than me at handling it 😔

This chapter was so sweet, even if it brought something to think over, and that forever quest for acceptance of your past mistakes in order to move on, that fear of facing it, because it will be hard and painful... Yes. I can imagine the road to happiness will be long and thorny for both of them.

And now, I leave you, dear author, with the best of wishes for good luck in your work, many scritches for your cats, and big thank you for this delight of a chapter.

Now I'll go look for the banana muffins recipe, since Gale and Timothy refused to share that, and make me some. Thank you ❤️

hey anon, thank you so much for such a lovely message and comprehensive chapter review. I'm glad you enjoyed it!

I had a lot of visions for what this aftercare portion of the fic looks like, to be honest, but mostly it's just Astarion trying to rebuild his personality from the ground up and then trying to do it as quickly as possible so he can land himself a baddie lmfao. I don't know how well I'll pull it off, bc there's a lot of big things to unpack there that also, I don't think, make for a particularly interesting reading experience, so a lot of it happens off-screen. But for right now, I'm just grappling with an Astarion who feels bit weird about flirting, meanwhile Rosalie is like "he's not flirting with me? :( maybe he doesn't... like me :("

*screams internally in author*

so I added cats misbehaving to give myself some more familiar ground to tread!

I also just feel like Shadowheart's story is the neatest by the end of the game (her just T-posing in the background of the post Netherbrain trauma congaline on the docks, lmfao) but that there are things about her story, at least in my playthrough, that would actually equip her for understanding Astarion more than Rose does. I wanted to give a little space for the acknowledgement that most of the companions have experienced more emotional and moral nuance than my Tav has in her entire life :')))

Thank you for your lovely words! x

#asks #anons #lovely words from lovely people #wip: pieces still stuck in your teeth #i think making a Lawful Good character can make people think I want Rosalie to be a spotless perfect never faltered ever Mary Sue #whereas... in truth... she's mostly just extremely repressed and autistic lmfao.#and she only become heroic bc any fear and anxiety was literally removed from her body! Astarion/Shadowheart should be so lucky!#its so fucking easy to be brave in those circumstances!!#so she doesn't really um. have the tools to handle a lot of what is going on right now :'))

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aries-writingblog · 1 year

Text

Enemy Fire: 27 (Epilogue)

Summary: There’s a new kid in town, and she’s got a city to usurp.

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Word Count: 7.0k

Warnings: language, mentions of therapy/trauma

AN: sorry this took me so long but we’re here!! The final part of Enemy Fire. I hope all of you enjoyed the ride. Thanks for reading❤️

Eighteen months later

Jason pressed his nose against her hair; His thumb stroked an even pace against her ribs. His other hand rested on his belly, fingers laced with hers.

Curled up beneath the moonlight, her skin was soft. Smooth against the rough pad of his fingertips. Her body warmed the sheets with a comforting heat, a familiar temperature that always burned steadily beside his own, cold body.

YN snuggled in closer, pressed against his chest. Her own fingertips traced indecipherable love letters on his skin. Carving out the words and burning them into his body.

Branding him with emotion— baring it on his chest for all to see.

Unabashed.

It had taken time— so much time— for him to accept the physical self the way she had.

His nudity. Their intimacy.

His past, a patchwork of various memories, various periods of his life. Scars and ripped flesh, burns and various other mementos he had carried through the years.

Painful, darkened memories threaded each stitch.

It hadn’t disappeared overnight, his hatred and loathing glares. But with each kiss she pressed to the damaged parts of him, he felt his soul become a little lighter.

And that was all he needed, for now.

He risked movement for a chance to glance at her face. Serene, peaceful. Bathed in the moonlight flooding her bedroom. Her eyes closed, head resting against his heart.

Her cheek was pressed against his autopsy scar, and yet, he wasn’t bothered by it at all.

Jason felt boneless, all of his muscles fully relaxed into the mattress. Into her touch.

One of her many benefits, Yn’s presence brought safety. Warmth and security— a furnace beneath the sheets to keep the chill at bay.

He inhaled deeply, again. His arm squeezed tighter, squishing her against his side.

“Hey.” He called softly.

YN shifted, readjusting her head into the crook of his arm. She hummed in recognition of his words— he had her attention, though her eyes were closed.

This was the time to do it, if ever. Now was the opportune time to talk, without interruptions. Without either of them getting upset at the other. They were both far too exhausted to argue.

And he couldn’t wait another minute. He had put this conversation off for two weeks, backing out at the last minute every time he thought of bringing it up.

Not this time.

Jason steadied himself with a deep inhale. Exhale.

“You wanna move in together?”

The silence was stifling. Oppressive.

Yn’s stillness against him was now nerve wracking. Unsettling.

How fast the night changes… how the same circumstances could go from soothing to world ending.

“Do you?” YN asked, keeping her eyes forward. Her head unmoving, body stiff against his.

He could feel the tension, the unease leeching into his own muscles. The more he spoke, the worse it would be, but he had to do something. Besides sit in this mess.

“I mean… we practically live here now. Together.” He spoke quietly, bashfully.

“Jason.” She exhaled his name sharply. She rolled over to her back, still settled against his body. His steadily increasing heart rate, pressed to her cheek. “We’ve been through this before. We tried the relationship thing and it didn’t work out.”

He sighed, exhaling through his nose at her opposition.

She had a point; They had tried the couple thing, around seven months prior. They had been friends with benefits for months, how much different could an actual relationship be?

As it turned out, very different.

Neither could fully commit to the deal. It had lead to arguments and fights. Most of them ending in one of them sleeping on the couch, or leaving the apartment entirely.

It would end in days of not talking, not seeing each other. There were several times Jason was sure she was dead— he would go on patrol at night, and keep an eye out. Certain that he would find her somewhere, and his last words to her were something awful.

In the end, they backed away from each other. Taking a break. Isolation lasted two months before their beneficial relationship started back up.

Getting caught back in the orbit. Unable to stop revolving around the other.

Things had been better, since the break. They didn’t run anymore. If there was a problem, they faced it head on. No matter how excruciating it was to dredge out feelings and thoughts.

The fights had been minimal.

Jason was happy again. And if Yn’s smile had anything to say, he knew she was too.

She didn’t want to obliterate either’s source of the joy. To her, the risk wasn’t worth the reward. But to Jason— he would’ve risked it all to keep her close.

“It’s working now.” He protested, softly.

YN pushed herself up onto her elbow, hovering over him. His eyes were bright, practically glowing in the dim light of the bedroom. His cheeks glinted— tear tracks still drying.

Her hand broke away from his grasp, coming to rest against his cheek. He nuzzled into her palm, allowing her thumb to wipe at his tears. She trailed down from the apples of his cheeks, brushing lightly over the scar that stretched out from his lip.

His breath hitched, eyes vulnerable. Staring up at her as if she was the only person in the world.

It was enough to make her heart ache. Her chest feel too heavy.

“Is it?” She asked.

Jason’s heart throbbed. She wasn’t asking because she knew it wasn’t working; She was asking to make him think twice. As if he hadn’t thought about it until his brain melted.

YN was only being logical.

He understood her need to protect against his antics. Their first relationship failed, and their recent one was purely physical (from the outside).

But he knew better. He could feel it.

This was the perfect time. Before, it had been rushed and overly dependent.

But now… now was perfect. He just had to convince her to try again.

“Of course it is.” He insisted. His fingertips brushed over her hip, coasting along the crest of the bone. Attempting to distract her from overthinking. “We come home to each other, make meals together, share everything—“

“Argue, throw things, you leave the toilet seat up—“

“I’m working on that.” He injected.

YN chuckled, the tension beginning to splinter off.

She wasn’t surprised at his offer; Initially, yes, but she could’ve seen this move coming from a mile away.

His progress had been astounding. His mild aversion to touch was nearly desolate, most of his anger was gone. He hadn’t relapsed in weeks. The drifting depression had all but vanished.

He was talking things through, instead of keeping them in or finding ways around the problem.

All that progress would be heaved backward, if their breakup happened again. And it would be her fault. She didn’t know if either of them could bare that weight.

“I don’t want to break your heart again.” She whispered. Keeping her voice low, trying to salvage the atmosphere.

He sighed, hands stalling to rest in the crease of her thigh. The room fell silent— the world along with it.

All waiting, holding a breath.

Listening closely.

“I want to call you mine.” Jason finally exhaled, his admission quiet and soft.

More than anything, he wanted to call her his own. His girl, his love. His everything.

He wanted to hold her hand, he wanted to snap at guys who brushed a little too close.

He wanted her to leave marks on his neck and lipstick on his cheek.

Jason wanted to be obliterated and pieced together again. He wanted all of her to meet all of him. To smash into each other like meteors, leaving behind the beginnings of a new world.

YN edged closer, fingertips brushing dark curls out of his eyes. The silvery, white chunk blended in the other strands. Her pointer finger gently touched a freckle, sitting on his temple, near his eyebrow.

She hoped he knew what he was doing. What they were getting into.

But she couldn’t even lie to herself and say his words didn’t spark a fire in her belly. Warming her chest with emotion she hadn’t felt with anyone else.

“Then do it.” YN murmured. His gaze traveled from her lips, to her eyes. A sincerity in the hues that he had been seeing more often than not, nowadays. “Because I’m yours Jason Todd. Completely, irrevocably, yours.”

An uncontrolled grin broke over his face; He sprang up, tackling her to the mattress.

YN squealed, falling back. Jason hugged around her midsection, pressing kisses to her face.

She squirmed back, her head falling off the side. A sharp cry of surprise left her lips. Jason secured his hands around her waist. YN suppressed her laughter, enough to threaten him.

“If you knock me off this bed, I swear Jason—“

“Then I’ll join you and we’ll fuck on the floor.” He shrugged, tugging her back onto the mattress. Her thighs draped about his waist, his torso towered over her.

Yn’s face flushed, both hands coming up to cover her face bashfully.

“Good god.” She grumbled, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes.

Jason hummed, hands running along the outside of her thighs. Up to rest against her ribs.

“Right here, sugar.”

YN grunted, another flare of her flames bursting as she changed directions. The wind sliced through her padded uniform, but with how much she had been moving through the night, it didn’t affect her much.

“Incoming on your right, Tailspin.” Oracle’s voice informed through her ear piece.

YN growled, spinning in the air. Sure enough, a grunt worker was barging in, throwing a hand up to catch her ankle as she passed him. Turning her flames onto him, he ducked to dodge, right as she dropped to her feet.

“God, I wish you people would drop that shit.” She sent a roundhouse kick to the man’s temple. He crumpled into a heap on the ground, without so much as a noise.

“No way. You get branded in this family and you keep it forever.” Barbara teased.

YN swung around, throwing a knife into the kneecap of another approaching man.

“I’m beginning to see that.”

She reached for another knife, to incapacitate his second kneecap, only to be interrupted by a screech of pain.

A batarang lodged itself three inches deep in the man’s thigh. Sending him sobbing to the ground.

YN turned around, lifting her eyes to the rooftops. A shadowy figure stood, the moonlight against his back. Little bat ears depicting who had lent her aid.

Giving a two finger salute, YN turned back to her previous endeavor. Finishing up her work quickly.

Once she had all thirteen guys bound and gagged, she snatched one of their phones. Dialing 911 and leaving it at their feet.

She took off to the sky again, blazing trails propelling her higher.

Jason really needed to look into night guards on his properties. These raids had been more frequent, ever since she herself had conducted one against him. It had been partially her fault— she inspired all these idiots to attempt what she had— so she offered to help him clean it up.

He agreed it was her fault and took her up on the offer.

She couldn’t win them all with seduction, she supposed. There were only so many times she could press herself against him to distract, before he became wise.

Landing on the rooftop, her boots were quiet as she sidled up to the masked vigilante.

“You’re getting powerful.” Batman muttered.

She hummed— wondering how long he had been watching.

“I’ve always been powerful— now I’ve got it under control.” YN shook her hand out, her wrist stiff and sore. Barbara added the wrist braces to her uniform a couple weeks ago, to prevent any strain. “Been practicing.”

He hummed. Bruce knew how hard she had been working, lately. Gaining power over her abilities. Of course she had always had a respectable amount of control of her abilities, but her self control had needed adjusting.

Although she didn’t work with Batman, she was adjacent. The same way Red Hood was. And so she worked in the same manner: if there was a dead body, Bruce didn’t know.

She was appreciative of his work— how he operated and his No Kill policy. She admired his strength. His discipline.

But YN wasn’t Bruce. No matter how many times she tried to give her targets the benefit of doubt, her mind circled back again and again to the relief she felt after Adrian was gone.

She had the ability to give others that safety. That power.

So his path of forgiveness would have to wait. If it would ever come around, at all.

And Bruce was leaving well enough alone. YN wasn’t on a rampage, he knew her heart was in the right place, even if her methods were unsavory.

It wasn’t like any of the rest of his crew were better than she was, at times.

She had no true alliances, besides Red Hood. Tailspin only helped Batman on rare occasions she couldn’t find anything else to get into. Or if she needed information. Even then, she mainly asked as YN, not her night stalking alter.

Bruce didn’t hold her against it. Once she finished her parol, she was off the hook. Of course, her anonymity had been destroyed, as well as the public’s view of her. She didn’t care.

She didn’t do her work for the fame or notoriety. She did it to be better. And that was something Bruce could stand behind.

Though, the media was having a field day with the fact that she and Jason Todd Wayne were ‘dating’. But the two proved elusive and could rarely be spotted together in public.

Thinking of two troublemakers…

“You two are coming to our holiday, right?” He asked, shifting his attention away from the streets of Gotham to the woman standing beside him.

She was fiddling with her uniform— clearly unhappy with how it currently misbehaved.

“I’ll talk to him.” YN grumbled, readjusting the holster straps across her thighs.

Not only had Barbara added braces, but upgraded holsters and they hadn’t cooperated even for one moment. The buckles had gotten tangled in the straps earlier, twisted around.

And now, they were caught in her cargo pants.

Awesome.

“How’s he been?” Bruce asked.

Finally untangling the buckles, YN straightened, her gaze turning to the city. Lips pressed together, brow furrowed.

Just because Jason had started talking with his family again, didn’t mean he was getting along with them all the time. It didn’t mean all the conversations were bright or sunny, either.

While his personal progress has been exponential, his familial progress was slow, to say the least. After he moved back out of the Manor, with YN in tow behind him, he had trouble sleeping. Even after days of pushing himself to his limits, he would lie awake at night.

Sometimes, YN would catch him staring off into space. Mouthing words to a conversation she wasn’t privy to. It had been unsettling the first few times, but now it was disconcerting.

Jason never shared what those were about, and frankly, she didn’t think she needed to know.

Some things were better kept as a secret.

“Getting better. His therapist is good— she’s not letting him slip.” YN divulged, giving the vaguest descriptions she could.

Sure, he did share some details with her but most were kept under confidential, HIPAA lock and key. Sentences muttered only to his therapist and they never left the office.

But even the few things he did manage to share with her, YN wasn’t going to go around telling his whole family.

Those words were also confidential. Stuck between the two of them, in the melting ice cream they shared before bed.

Bruce seemed to understand. He nodded, leveling his gaze out to the city as well.

“Good. He needs a strong hand.” He commented easily.

YN snorted.

“He needs several.” She teased. Bruce hummed, amused. She cast a sidelong glance to the vigilante at her side. “Your hand is always gonna be included in that, by the way.”

He didn’t show it, but his brain instantly dropped service. Unable to focus on anything other than her words— the words that made his heart slam against his chest.

“So, you don’t see me as a nuisance anymore?” He asked, attempting to feign nonchalance. Tamping his excitement down as far as he could, to prevent showing his hand to her.

YN hummed, fingertips brushing back and forth over the handle of a knife. Strapped to her hip.

“You’re still a nuisance. But you’re his dad, he’ll always need you.” YN admitted. She could practically feel the excitement, radiating from his being. “And Alfred.”

“And you? How’s your therapy been?”

“Rough. But worth it.” She confided, weakly.

She hadn’t been the most receptive to her therapy; She hadn’t wanted to go at all. Her monster was dead, and she killed him. She disbanded his lingering mob in New York, and Jersey. Sold all his properties and stocks.

Jason still convinced her to go. She despised him for it, wouldn’t talk to him for days following the appointments. They were mountainous and dark, some things didn’t make sense and others she refused completely.

But it was slowly getting better.

YN couldn’t shake the anxiety therapy gave her. She was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Several shoes, actually.

Yn’s phone buzzed against her thigh, where it sat in her zipped pocket. Fishing it out, she acknowledged Jason’s name and the picture of him in the kitchen. No shirt, just boxers and an apron covering his chest as he cooked breakfast. Early morning light streaming into the room.

One of her favorite candids.

One of her favorite memories. No matter how many times he tried erasing it.

Pressing answer, YN stepped off a few paces. One finger signaling to Bruce.

“Hello?” She resisted the urge to immediately ask what was wrong. Jason rarely called, much less while either of them were on patrol.

Tamping down the rush of anxiety, she waited for him to speak to her.

“Hey, you still out?” His voice was slightly tinny over the device, muffled.

But she could hear the thud of his boots dropping to the ground. He must’ve had her on speaker.

“Yeah. We’re on the last leg, now. I’ll be an hour, at most.” She answered. Jason grunted, knees pressed to his chest— tongue poked out slightly as he tugged his shoes on.

“Kay, I’m headed out for the day, leaving the window unlocked.”

YN gave a quiet ‘okay’. He usually left his window unlocked for her. At first it was a trick to get her into his apartment, complaining he couldn’t keep leaving it unlocked in hopes she was in the mood that night. Now, it was more of a routine.

Glancing back over her shoulder to the Bat, YN bit her lip. Now wasn’t the time to discuss the holiday gathering. Or why he hadn’t told her about it.

“Don’t forget—“

“I haven’t.” Jason assured her. Tonight was the night they agreed to sit down and talk through the mechanics of actually moving forward. It was a dinner date at a fancy restaurant. Her first fancy meal, since arriving in Gotham. Besides Alfred’s cooking, of course. “Geez, you treat me like a child.”

“You act like a child.”

“You act like a bitch.”

YN barked out a laugh, actually amused by his insults. Jason smiled to himself, as well.

“Be safe.” She advised.

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see.

“Got it.” Jason confirmed, listening as the call ended. He tied off his lace, getting to his feet and snatching his phone. Shoving it into his pocket before he was on his way out of the door.

YN stared at the screen for a moment before tucking it safely into its pocket. She turned back to Bruce, zipping the pocket.

“Let’s wrap this up, pretty boy.” She grumbled, stepping up to the ledge. They had one last area to scan before they could finish. “My guy is starting to get nervous.”

Bright fluorescent lights bounced against the laminate flooring. Children screeched and the chatter of a crowded grocery store was beginning to cause Damian a headache.

He wasn’t the only one of the group that the impromptu venture was distressing. Drake seemed to be bored out of his mind, Duke was half insane with anxiety over the crowds and his list.

Grayson seemed to have elevator music playing on repeat in his mind.

“This sucks.” Tim groaned, head tilting back. He stared at the ceiling for thirty seconds. “I hate shopping with you people.”

“I’m just trying to get the right gifts, alright? It’ll only take a second.” Dick grunted, phone in hand as he searched the shelves before him.

“No it won’t, you’re so indecisive you make everything difficult.” Damian argued. He didn’t even want to go to the store, so close to a holiday. People, who had the same meager thought processes as Dick, packed the shopping centers with fervor.

Scrambling to finish their lists and prepare for last minute get togethers.

Crowds was not where he wanted to be at any time, but his father insisted he go.

It was suspicious, but he knew it was because of the childish games his father wanted to surprise everyone with. For the entire month of December, he had been hiding a strange elf creature around the manor and the first to find it won a prize.

Damian had refused to participate, even when the elf was blatantly left in places where he would find it first. He simply picked it up and relocated it for someone else to find.

Much to Bruce’s chagrin, he would not be participating in any sort of childish events during the holidays. He wouldn’t even attend the dinner, had it not been in his own home.

Tim, however, had a million other things he would’ve rather done. Instead of grocery shopping and babysitting.

Somehow, it wasn’t fair that he was sent out with his idiot siblings, while the girls got to decorate the Manor. And no one even knew where YN was— which was concerning, but when asked, she told him to mind his own business.

“It’s not my fault you waited until Mary was giving birth to start holiday shopping.” Tim grouched, shooting off another text to Kon, then beginning a new text to send to his newest interest.

“Remind me why you insisted everyone join us? We couldn’t have come by ourselves?” Duke asked, checking another item from Alfred’s list.

He had been sent to ensure the group would actually shop and be back to the Manor at an appropriate time. Ever since he had seen Alfred brandishing a sawed off shotgun at an intruder, he had been slightly terrified of the butler.

And if Alfred have him specific instructions on shopping and deadlines, by god Duke was gonna get it done. He wasn’t gonna let any of the very distracting bat kids fool him, either.

“I need several opinions.” Dick explained, scrolling through the app on his phone. Searching for the perfect gifts, he had neglected to get before hand.

“The voices in your head don’t give you enough?”

Dick scowled, unsure of which boy the muttering came from. To solve that issue, he simply tugged on both of their ears.

“Cut it out!” Damian slapped at his hands, shoving away from the larger man.

“You’ve got maybe five minutes before I go rogue, like Jason.” Tim jutted a thumb over his shoulder.

Dick frowned, turning back around. Sure enough, they were missing a member of the group.

“Jason?” He asked, eyes searching out the tallest brother. He hadn’t even noticed when he snuck away. “When did he—“

“Dammit!” Duke cried, nearly panicked. “I told you all to stay close, I don’t want to hunt any of you down and we have to be back by eleven! If he makes us late—“

“I’ll find him.” Dick promised, quickly slipping away and scurrying across the crowded store.

Duke cursed again, dread filling his stomach. Tim sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“I’ll follow him.” He trudged off in the direction of his escaped brothers.

“And I’ll follow him.” Damian promised. He didn’t want to be here any longer than he had to be. Knowing the trio of older brothers he had, they would be sure to get distracted.

Duke exhaled. Regaining his calm. It was a shame that he relied on the word of a young teenager more than his friend and a fully grown man, but, so was the way of the bat family.

At least he could move faster without the group weighing him down.

A broad shouldered, six foot something man stood in the middle of the showroom. Hands in his pockets, staring at a glass case.

Sidling up beside his brother, Dick’s eyes fell to the display case. Glittering gems embedded in sterling silver and gold, all shining brightly.

Waiting for a lucky someone to choose the perfect cut, perfect design.

To give to their special someone.

Dick’s heart leapt in stark realization. A rush of euphoria grappling hold over his mind.

He choked it down— playing cool. Jason would never share anything if he got too excited. Which really sucked sometimes; Because Dick wanted nothing more than to show his brother how excited he was that he found YN.

“You thinking about it?” Dick asked, casually. Hands tucked into his pockets.

Jason snorted, his eyes set on a certain piece near the back.

“Hell no.” He answered.

Lies.

Jason had thought about it. Before they broke up. He had thought that, maybe if he proposed to her, maybe if he showed her he was serious, then she would accept. They could leave behind some of their issues.

But now, Jason was glad he didn’t do it. It would’ve ruined everything. For good.

He didn’t even know if YN wanted to get married. Ever. They had been so busy arguing and living in the moment, back then. They had rarely talked of the future.

“Seriously? You two have been together forever.” Dick grumbled.

Jason scoffed, turning away from the display cases.

“One year is not forever.” He argued. Dick rolled his eyes, mocking his words.

Jason’s hands were instantly out of his pockets, and reaching for his brother’s shirt. A scowl on his face.

“I’ll put you through a window.” Jason growled, eyes baring down into Dick’s.

Dick put his hands on Jason’s wrists, staring him down. Almost daring him.

Luckily, intervention occurred before Jason could escalate his threats. It came in the form of Timothy Drake, sauntering up to the pair. Damian trailed after him— his face burning at the pair of grown men, threatening each other in public.

“They aren’t even a couple— it’s a ‘situationship’.” Tim announced, making finger quotes around the word.

Jason’s face flared with heat, making the hoodie he was wearing practically unbearable.

‘Situationship’ was even worse than Dick’s implications.

Situationship implied that one of them wasn’t even remotely interested in the other, past the physical. And Jason knew better. Because YN wasn’t that person. He knew she wasn’t that person.

“For your information, asshole, we’re…” He paused. Catching himself before he let his heart spill through the cracks. “We don’t have labels.”

“So you’re together?” Dick prodded.

Jason pressed his lips together, firmly.

They weren’t ‘girlfriend and boyfriend’, they agreed to talk it out. Give a relationship another go. Besides, those titles felt juvenile and stiff. YN wasn’t some girl. She was part of him, as narcissistic as it sounded.

He felt dizzy by the line of questioning; Unsure of things.

But that was fine, right? They were still talking things out and everything would get better after some time.

Then again, it had been three weeks since their conversation. And still, he was unsure about titles, of all things.

“I don’t like this conversation.” Jason stated, shoving his hands into his pockets. Not quite uncomfortable, but definitely uneasy.

“Neither do I. Can we move away from Todd’s extracurriculares?” Damian complained, flicking a predatory glare at two younger children who stepped too close.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late.” Duke pushed through the group, having completed his own gathering tasks.

Luckily, he found them before Damian could guide the group back toward him. He corralled the gaggle of them forward, making another head count to ensure everyone was present.

He stopped the cart in one of the checkout lines, going down his list again to triple check. Then he did another head count. Everything was in order.

“Oh my god!” Dick swooped forward, his tone incredulous. Jaw dropped open, eyes glued to the magazine in his hands. “Look at that angle! I look horrible!”

Jason frowned, snatching the copy. The title was in bold, yellow ink.

‘Nightwing: Friend or Menace? Bludhaven’s Saucy Night Crawler Bribing the Police?’

Dick’s alter ego was plastered on the front page, mid swing.

“They’re framing you for bribery.” Jason pointed out.

“I know,” Dick pouted. But still, his eyes remained on the magazine cover. “They could’ve at least gotten my good side.”

Jason rolled his eyes, shoving the tabloid back into its place. His goal of moving on from the aisle was blocked by Dick’s body.

He grumbled under his breath, nudging the man’s shoulder to move. Dick slapped his hand away, quickly picking up the magazine copy.

Jason scowled.

“Why are you buying that? You’re just giving them reason to make more of those bogus claims.” He challenged. Dick crammed the copy beneath his other items.

“It’s my face, I can make whatever bogus claims I want.” He muttered.

Dick was half tempted to buy out the store’s entire stock; And he would’ve— if it wasn’t suspicious. Besides, he needed to keep an eye out for Nightwing, anyways. If anything happened to be a little too close to accurate in the article, he would be in trouble.

Because unlike Jason, who’s cover story was that he was legally dead, Dick had to watch his footing in the press. Both as a Wayne, and a vigilante.

“You’re impossible.” Jason determined, stalking after the group of degenerates he called family. Duke nearly called out in anger, before Jason held up the car keys.

Damian quickly followed, eager to escape the grasp of public shopping in the holiday season.

The Manor was loud.

Louder than normal, anyways.

YN closed the door after herself, and followed the sound.

One of the sitting rooms had Just Dance still on the television screen, the characters moving endlessly on a waiting screen.

Various jackets had been discarded on the couches. Shoes kicked off at the door. Pillows seemingly launched at the participants, from what she could see from their new positions on the ground.

Jason had told her that morning that the whole family was going to be at the manor, all day. If she wanted to join. As interesting and tempting as the proposal was, YN declined.

She found a lead on a case— that she hadn’t shared with him, yet, in fear that he would shut her down. Claiming she was chasing ghosts.

She told him she was going to run a few errands before meeting up with them later. Most of it was truthful.

She did run errands.

And then she hunted down her lead. Which was technically an errand.

Either way, it was near sundown.

And there was a slight ache, to know she missed out on some of the festivities and fun. She could dismiss it, knowing that her nose was always right.

She just had to figure out how to tell Jason about the weapons being smuggled into Gotham, without him scolding her for going off alone again.

But for now, she would settle for just being near him. Wondering how many rooms she had to search in the Manor to find him.

She didn’t search much longer, though. To her delight, she found him in the kitchen. He was finishing up with a pie, brushing egg yolk over an unbaked crust. Flour stained the red apron wrapped around his waist, and he seemed to have a little more white in his hair than usual.

Taking advantage of his obliviousness, YN snatched a hand towel from the counter. She waited until he straightened, finished with his task, and then whipped the edge at his ass.

Jason nearly leapt out of his skin, his knees colliding with the cabinet doors, noisily. Egg yolk sloshing dangerously in its mixing cup.

He spun around, scowling. YN stood innocently, twirling the rag with a grin on her lips.

“The hell is wrong with you?” He demanded, gruffly.

“I waited until you were finished.” She argued.

“Gee, thanks. Really takes the sting outta my ass.” He slid his tools back to the counter and carefully moved his pie to a sheet pan.

“You couldn’t feel it through your pants.”

“You don’t know what I can feel through these pants.”

Jason slid the pan into the oven. Turning back to face her, he untied his apron and draped it on the island counter.

Reaching out, he snagged her around the waist. Sunlight fell in strips around the kitchen. The sunset glowing fiery red and orange, leaving his skin tinted with warmth. His eyes held a sparkle she hadn’t seen in a while.

His fingertips pressed into her back, urging her closer. Leaning into her, he went in for a kiss. Only for her to pull her head back and to the left.

He frowned, leaning back to look at her.

“First time I’ve seen you all day and I can’t even get a kiss?” Jason complained, brows furrowed.

“No.” YN replied, her hands falling to his sweater.

Her fingers twisted the fabric into her fists, and she pulled him in. Jason couldn’t stop the smirk on his lips as they collided.

He was never one for public displays but… God, she made him feel powerful. Like he held everything right there, in his hand. Every touch left him breathless.

He didn’t even care his family was in the next room, quite possibly listening in.

She pulled away, eyes glittering in the manor’s lighting.

“You suck.” He croaked, the dopey grin on his face showing his true hand.

YN hummed, pecking a second kiss to his nose.

“I know.” She patted his chest twice, then backed away. Fingertips dragging along his shoulder as she treaded toward the dining room.

Jason stared after her for a minute, at least.

He wasn’t even aware his feet had been moving him, until he bumped into a dining chair. His face flushed red, at the scraping noise it made against the hardwood floor. His hands darted out to fix the askew furniture.

YN suppressed a grin, sinking her canines into her lip.

Jason cleared his throat. He pulled the chair back further, nodding for YN to sit. Attempting to play off his fumble.

She sat, without opposition, and let him push the chair in to the table. He selected the chair beside hers, closest to the exit. Shielding her body.

Stephanie cooed, her hand pressed to her chest. Right above her heart.

“You two are disgusting.” She complained, cheerily. She yanked a chair out, flopping into it ungracefully. As Alfred began to transfer dishes from his cart, to the table, Steph waved a hand to him. “No need to set a room for me, Alfred, I’ll be sleeping on the highway.”

“Very well, miss, would you also like your breakfast delivered?” He asked, leaning between Bruce and Damian to fill the table.

“No, just a tombstone.” She confirmed. She put both hands into the air, as if displaying a title of a show. “‘Here lies Stephanie Brown: Died of singularity.’”

Tim snorted, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Dramatic.” He decreed.

“I am not!”

YN nudged Tim’s ribs gently, rolling her eyes at Steph’s outlandish comedy. He returned the gesture, digging in a little deeper than she had, just because. With a hint of a grin on his lips.

While he hadn’t been her biggest fan when she first arrived, the two were mild acquaintances now. They mainly chatted during family events (when Jason told her about them) but they kept themselves entertained and out of trouble.

It had taken a few, hard looks in the mirror for both Tim and YN, to realize, they saw bits of themselves in each other. And maybe the reason they disapproved of each other was perhaps because, deep down, they disapproved of themselves, or whatever bullshit Dick spouted to get them in the same room together.

In the end, the two had teamed up against Dick and shamed him for many aspects of his life and choices; Which left him half irritated by their antics, and partially proud his plan worked.

Dick had not been discouraged by the pair; As he stood up at the dinner table, magazine in hand.

The pages slapped together as he tossed it to the table in front of Bruce.

Bruce, who had his spoon halfway to his mouth, peered up through his lashes at his son.

“Bruce, just take a look at that.” Dick demanded, crossing his arms.

He did as instructed, casting his gaze down to the issue before him. His son’s alter ego plastered across the front page, bold words surrounding his frame.

“Wow.” He commented, nodding at it. “You’ve been promoted to bribery.”

“The picture, Bruce. The picture.” Dick stressed, jabbing his finger into his own, printed face. He dragged it down, directing his complaint to the appropriate area. “My ass looks flat.”

Bruce frowned, scanning the rest of the magazine’s cover.

“That’s not the point of any of this.” He determined, pushing it back across to his bewildered son. “I’m not commenting on your rear end.”

Dick groaned, collapsing back into his seat with a flourish. Head lolling back in frustration.

“Oh come on! Anyone gonna comfort me?”

Duke cupped his hands around his mouth:

“Damn— look at that thick ass white boy!”

YN snickered, slicing through her pork loin skillfully. Dick ignored her, in favor of his pity compliment.

“Thanks, Duke. You’re the only one who’s ever cared.”

Bruce barked out a laugh, grinning down at his plate.

“I only took you in after a series of unfortunate events, and Alfred had to go along with it.” He shrugged, nonchalantly.

Alfred hummed in agreement, finishing up his duties before pushing his cart out of the room and down the hallway.

“I thought you hated these tabloids.” Barbara interrupted, grabbing the magazine to inspect for herself.

“I do. Your point?” Dick questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

Barbara sent him a suspicious glance but passed the magazine to Cass when she signaled for it. She made a face before tossing it to the floor, under the table.

Dick cried out in dramatic outrage.

‘Your ass is flat, let’s move on.’ She signed, picking up her utensils to resume eating.

It sent Dick into a tailspin. Raving about the respect he gets in the household, and just how many more brats are you gonna raise, Bruce?

All in good nature, Jason supposed.

He glanced to his side, where YN sat, eating quietly, simply observing the chaos.

“You good?” He whispered.

YN met his gaze, with a smile.

“Great.” She replied, her hand finding his thigh and her fingertips pressing into his skin. Squeezing gently.

She let her hand rest there for the remainder of the dinner; Jason was practically buzzed from the pressure of her touch. Even if it wasn’t skin on skin.

Alfred stood idly, preparing various mugs while Bruce attempted to garner the attention of his motley crew.

Everyone was gathered, post dinner, in the main living room. Damian was crashed on one of the couches, but still in the room. Bruce gave him credit for trying.

The rest of the group was mingling— tossing out various taunts and threats to each other as they prepared for the hunt.

Alfred passed Bruce a mug of hot chocolate, still steaming.

Once it was secured, Bruce whistled sharply. All eyes snapped to him, eagerly waiting.

“The elf has been hidden again and the search can begin….” Bruce paused, holding his breath. “Now!”

Jason immediately pressed his palm into Yn’s face and pushed her backward. She stumbled, arms flailing out to catch herself.

“Ow— hey!” She snapped, kicking at his shin. Jason shook her off and bolted ahead of her.

“There’s no way I’m letting you cheat again.” He shouted, over his shoulder.

YN scowled, righting herself against the wall.

“I didn’t even cheat that time!”

“Yeah, right.”

She growled, pushing off the wall— leaving a palm shaped scorch mark in her place— and took off after him.

Concern of winning the elf had now dwindled, in favor of strangling her partner.

“You son of a bitch— get back here!” YN’s voice boomed, echoing through the hallway as she chased him down. At a disadvantage against his head start sprint. “Say it to my face!”

Bruce barely even winced at the crashing sound, deeper in the manor, nor was he concerned of the mark on the wall. Both had become unnervingly common since he had adopted his children.

Alfred stood one step behind him, observing the quick patter of feet, all across the manor. The shrieking laughter and vicious taunts shared between the siblings and friends.

There were more distinct thuds, suspiciously akin to when YN hit the wall prior. More shouting followed. And it sounded like her voice.

“Those two may never grow up.” Alfred warned, staring down the hallway.

“Lord, no,” Bruce agreed, a little too hastily to be anything other than truth. “Though, I think we all appreciate Jason being a little less serious.”

“I’m rather proud to see them both act so childishly.” Alfred admitted. He wasn’t even the least bit annoyed when any of the children were childish (and there were moments when he was entitled to his emotions regarding the fact). But Jason had never been like the others. Always so guarded, even as a child. He never received a proper childhood. Now, he was getting one. At least, portions of one. “They’re good to each other.”

Bruce hummed, tilting the mug to mix his drink again.

“Cheers to that.”

#enemy fire #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x f!reader

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