#i might add more later since these are like first thoughts about the final chapters and some things might change.

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER EIGHT: CONNECTIONS

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SUMMARY ↳ So.. dinner with the family. Yikes. Damian doesn't release his hold until you're both in a quieter part of the manor, away from potential eavesdroppers. "You enjoy teasing me, don't you?" he murmurs, voice dropping. You grin saliciously. "Of course I do," you reply, your voice teasing as you lean in closer to Damian. "It keeps things interesting, doesn't it?" pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: subtle "accusations" of cheating wc: 4.4k NOTICE: im gonna start adding my notes/end notes on ao3 from now on if i have any. they just include my yapping (the beginning notes are usually just warnings anyway) i might go back and add them to previous chaps, might not.

You actually spend the next morning skipping your first classes in exchange for visiting the Den. You’ve had perfect attendance so far, so you’re only grievance is that you won’t be able to brag about it anymore. You’ll send in an excuse note later.

The reason for your absence is to take note of what you need for the badassium. Karen lists things off for you as you write them on a little note. A lot of it is high-grade expensive stuff. If Victoria can’t get it for you, you’ll just ask her for the money to get it yourself. Or just ask her where you can steal it.

You arrive only a tad bit late to ballet class. That’s a lie, there’s five minutes left till the bell. The teacher barely notices, too occupied with scolding some of the other kids. Victoria sees you enter and scurries over.

“Where were you?” she asks.

You pull out the list, holding it up to her. “Making this.” You hold it out to her. “It’s a list of all the stuff I need. You wanna help me? Get me these.”

She takes the paper, looking it over. “What is it?”

“Materials I need. I’m building something really important.” Victoria’s eyes roam the sheet, before nodding and tucking it into her bra.

“How fast do you need them?”

“As fast as you can get them without raising suspicion. If you can’t get them, either give me the money or tell me where I can pick it up myself.”

Victoria raises a brow. “You’d steal it?”

You shrug. “What, like it’s hard?”

She huffs is disbelief. She’ll get used to you soon enough. The bell rings, and you and Victoria walk out together. “My staff are very discreet,” she reassures. “I will get it to you.”

“Drop it off at this location,” you text her the address. It’s an old apartment close to your Den. No one lives there, you made sure.

Determined to be of use, she nods. You wave her goodbye as you drop her off. Since you missed first period, you’ll only get to see Damian at the end of the day. You also missed lunch, so there goes your most fulfilling meal of the day.

You’re beginning to feel like a zombie. You’ve always been isolated from your peers, not on purpose, most of the time. Your mind is simply far beyond theirs in every universe, it seems. It’s why you started online classes, you simply just couldn’t stand being in school with others. It was just so boring . Unfortunately for you, you’re stuck in class. Life’s rough. Maybe you should start skipping more often. You can definitely catch up, you just have to not miss too many classes.

Ms. M greets you with a bright and cheery disposition, quite the opposite to your current demeanor. You give Ms. M a stiff but polite smile, trying to muster some enthusiasm. She’s one of the few teachers you actually like, her passion for the subject always evident.

You place your head down on your desk, feeling the lull of boredom pull you under. As Ms. M begins her lecture, you try to focus, but your mind keeps drifting back to the list of materials and your plans for the badassium. The thought of finally making significant progress makes you giddy.

Luckily for your peace of mind, Ms. M has a short lecture for the day with no assignment. She leaves the class alone for the remainder of the day. You shut your eyes, breathing calm. Feeling the call of sleep, you answer, escaping from the boringness of the day.

Except a finger flicks your ear, rudely disturbing your would-be sleep.

“Damian,” you murmur, rising. “May I help you?”

“Where were you this morning?” He doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. He never does.

“Not here,” you grumble. “I had to take care of some stuff. And I was kind of thinking about not even coming at all.” It’s true. Most people in their right mind just stay home if they’re even ten minutes late.

Damian picks a piece of lint from your collar. “I thought that perhaps you were affected by Ivy’s abilities. After all, I doubt you are capable of taking care of yourself.”

You cup Damian’s face, making his lips pucker. “Aw, is this your roundabout way of saying you want to take care of me? You’re so sweet.”

He takes your hands into his own, pulling them away. “I didn’t think you the unfaithful type, [Name].”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Considering the compromising position I found you and Victoria in, certainly the two of you are… together?” His face twists as he says the last word. Oh, yeah. You forgot that he walked in on the two of you. The whole carnival thing occupied your thoughts.

“Well, first of all–” you start, placing your hands in your lap, tugging his hands there as well. “–you make it sound like we’re in the regency era and I’ve just compromised the young lady Victoria,” you huff in a British accent, rolling your eyes. “Second of all, what you walked in on was a… confusing situation. We kissed, agreed we were better of as friends, and that’s that. I am not the unfaithful type, fuck you,” you grin. Leaning back, you raise your legs so perch them on his thighs. Surprisingly, he lets you.

“So don’t worry, I’m still available and I would never cheat on you, baby.”

He pinches your thigh in retaliation, before moving to massage your calves. You let your head hang over the edge of your chair, relaxing. Damian’s got skilled hands, he has too. From his background as an assassin and his current occupation as Robin. His fingers work the stress out of your muscles. His hands feel really nice.

“We’ll go to my home to work more on the project,” he mutters, focused on his current task. You hum in contentment, the tension in your muscles melting away under Damian's skilled hands. “Sounds good to me,” you murmur. “Alfred makes really good sandwiches.”

Damian continues to knead your calves for a few more moments before finally stopping. “You’ve become spoiled.”

You laugh softly, sitting up and stretching. “Says the rich one.” You and Damian gather your things as the last bell rings. Stepping outside, you breathe in the cool air. It’s getting colder in Gotham, soon it’ll start snowing. Damian’s hand finds its place on your back, guiding you to the car. You make sure to greet Alfred as you step inside. 

“How’s Jon doing?” you ask. “I hope he isn’t too embarrassed about what happened.”

“Jon is fine. The antidote did it’s part. As for his unnecessary embarrassment…” he trails off, “...you should ask him yourself.”

You tsk. “Useless,” you joke. You have a feeling Jon will do anything to ignore and forget about what happened, so you’re not sure how easy it’ll be to ask him.

Wayne Manor stands before you once again as you arrive. The sprawling estate is both imposing and welcoming, a testament to the Wayne family’s legacy. You step out of the car, feeling a mix of anticipation and exhaustion.

When you enter, you’re greeted by a loud bark. A large dog, a Great Dane, rounds the corner. He trots happily towards Damian, panting. Damian gives him generous pets.

“This is Titus,” he introduces. Titus barks at you in greeting.

You grin reaching out a hand to pet him. “Hi, Titus.” Titus leans into your scritches, making you coo and increase your petting tenfold. 

“Sorry about that! I guess he knew you were here and got excited,” says a voice, rounding the corner. A figure clad is comfy loungewear makes his way over to the two of you. You clock him immediately as none other than Dick Grayson. He bears a charming smile as he approaches.

“You must be Damian’s friend I’ve heard so much about,” he greets, holding out a hand.

You shake it, looking at Damian smugly. “You talk about me, Dami?” You grin as he glares at you.

“I’m his older brother, Dick.”

The urge to make a joke is very strong, but you persevere. Wrong audience. “Nice to meet you. Damian hasn't mentioned you at all," you tease lightly, shooting Damian a playful glance.

Dick chuckles, looking between you and Damian with a knowing expression. "I can see that. Well, if you're Damian's friend, you're welcome here anytime. And it's always nice to meet someone who can keep him on his toes."

You chuckle softly, liking his easygoing demeanor. "Thanks, Dick. I'll do my best to keep him in line."

Damian doesn’t like how you and his brother are plotting against him in front of him, so he grabs you arm and drags you away. “We have work to do, Grayson. Do not bother us.”

Dick grins and winks as you two disappear from view. As Damian drags you away, you shoot Dick a playful wave before disappearing from view. You can hear Dick's laughter echoing behind you, amused.

Damian doesn't release his hold until you're both in a quieter part of the manor, away from potential eavesdroppers. "You enjoy teasing me, don't you?" he murmurs, voice dropping.

You grin saliciously. "Of course I do," you reply, your voice teasing as you lean in closer to Damian. "It keeps things interesting, doesn't it?"

“It seems to be your only talent,” he says, turning to look at you. Your faces are close together, breaths intermingling.

Your playful grin widens at his comment, enjoying the closeness as Damian's gaze meets yours. "Oh, I have plenty of talents," you retort smoothly, teasingly brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. Damian's pupils dilate, a glint flickering in his eyes before he regains his composure.

"Is that so?" he challenges, a smirk playing on his lips. His hand, which had been resting on your arm, moves to lightly trace the line of your jaw, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You lean into his touch, meeting his gaze with a mixture of playfulness and genuine affection. "Mhm," you murmur, your voice low. "But you'll have to stick around to find out all my secrets."

The intensity in Damian's eyes deepens, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. "Maybe I intend to," he replies, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Before the moment can escalate further, a loud bark interrupts the thick atmosphere. Titus, ever the loyal companion, trots over to Damian’s side, breaking the spell between you and Damian. You chuckle softly, pulling back slightly as Damian withdraws his hand.

Damian straightens beside you, brushing his hands down his front. Clearing his throat, grumbles. “We are distracted, we should be working.”

You shrug, easy. “You’re the guide.”

Damian leads you into the same room you worked in the last time you visited. Titus takes perch under the table, settling in and curling up. Today will probably be the last time you’re invited over for a while, if not indefinitely. You’re sure you’ll finish the powerpoint in an hour or so, so you wonder if Damian will kick you out as soon as that happens.

You hand Damian your laptop, since it’s been mostly you doing the actual work, it’s his turn. His fingers fly across the keys as he types. You sit on the table next to him and point out things he should add. You both work in comfortable silence, occasionally broken by your comments and Damian's terse responses. The atmosphere is focused, the earlier playful tension replaced by a shared sense of purpose. 

After an hour or so, you lean back, stretching your arms above your head. "I think that covers everything," you say, looking over the final slide.

Damian gives a final, scrutinizing look at the presentation before nodding in agreement. "It’s comprehensive," he admits, shutting the laptop. "We should be prepared for any questions they throw at us."

"Good," you reply, hopping off the table. "Now that the hard part's done, let's hope the presentation goes smoothly."

Damian closes your laptop and sets it aside. "It will. We've covered every angle. Even if they ask something unexpected, we can handle it."

You smile, appreciating his confidence. You stretch once more, your muscles appreciating the movement after sitting for so long. Titus wakes up from his nap, prancing over to you. You kneel and pet his face generously. He whines when you pull away to gather your stuff.

As you gather your things, you notice Damian watching you with an inscrutable expression. You can't quite read what's going on in his mind, but there's a sense of something unsaid lingering in the air.

“What is it?” you ask.

Damian hesitates, which he seems to do a lot around you. It’s strange to you how someone who appears so sure of himself, so absolute can do such a thing. “What are your plans for your future?”

You blink, taken aback. “Like… after high school?”

He nods, his gaze intense. "Yes. What do you see yourself doing?"

It's a question you haven't given much thought to, caught up as you are in the present challenges. You don’t really want to give it much thought. Being here long enough to go to college makes your stomach turn. You can’t pretend like you have been miserable all this time. You’ve made friends, made a life here. But it’s not your life.

“I haven’t really thought about a college or anything. I know I want to help people,” you say, eyes trailing off. “What do you wanna do?”

Damian’s expression softens. “I want to continue my fathers legacy. Do everything to make the city safer, I suppose. However, I would also like to explore my own interests.”

“I look forward to seeing your art in a museum, Damian,” you declare, facing him.

There's a moment of shared understanding between you, a recognition of the complexities that lie beneath the surface. It's a comforting feeling, knowing that despite your differences, you share a common drive to carve out your own paths.

A polite knock echoes against the door before it opens. Dick pokes his head out with a smile on his face. “Hey, you two. Hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

You shake your head. “Nah, we just finished.” You shoulder your bag over your shoulder. “I was actually about to head out.”

Dick perks up. “Actually, Alfred wanted to know if you would like to stay for dinner.”

Behind you, Damian freezes and narrows his eyes. “As [Name] was just saying, they were leaving–”

“–Actually I think I will stay for dinner,” you grin at Damian. Only a fool would skip out on a chance to taste Alfred Pennyworth’s cooking. Any pokes and prods about your identity you’ll meet head on, and any chance to embarrass Damian is a good chance.

Dick matches your grin, nodding. “I’ll let him know.” He disappears, closing the door and leaving you two alone

Damian scowls. “Whatever you are planning–”

“I have no wrong intentions whatsoever Damian,” you furrow your brows and place a hand on your chest in mock offense. “I’m offended you think so low of me.”

Damian's scowl deepens, clearly not amused by your teasing. "You always have some ulterior motive," he accuses, crossing his arms.

You step closer, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. "Maybe I just want to enjoy a nice dinner with your family. Is that such a crime?"

He narrows his eyes suspiciously. "Fine. But don't think I won't be watching you."

You smirk playfully. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

With that settled, you follow Damian out of the room and into the sprawling manor once more. The atmosphere shifts slightly as you join Damian and Titus, walking through the grand halls towards the dining room. You can't help but feel a mixture of excitement and curiosity about what dinner with the Wayne family will entail.

When you step into the room your senses immediately buzz with anticipation, jittering around your skull. Just about every single member of the Batfamily is present. Even goddamn Jason Todd is here, helping Alfred set the table. It boosts your ego a little bit. Bruce Wayne greets you as you enter.

“I’m glad we can have you over,” he smiles. “Damian doesn’t have many friends to bring over.”

You snort at Damian’s grunt. You decide not to push Damian's buttons further in front of his family. For now. "Thank you for having me, Mr. Wayne," you reply politely.

Bruce nods back, his smile warm and welcoming. "Please, call me Bruce. Make yourself at home."

You take your seat at the large table, Damian at one side and Dick at the other. Everyone else settles in as well. Alfred serves the meal, a fancy foreign meal you don’t understand the name of. Damian, of course, gets a vegetarian portion of it.

Jason speaks up first. “You gonna introduce us or what?” He asks Damian. He looks about a second way from pulling out a hidden knife from somewhere, so Dick jumps in to save the day.

“This is [Name], they’re Damian’s classmate and…” he pauses for dramatic effect, “...friend!”

The table erupts in chuckles at Dick's teasing, though Damian remains stoic and unamused. You take the opportunity to greet everyone with a friendly smile and a wave.

"It's nice to meet all of you," you say, trying to match their warm reception despite Damian's icy demeanor.

Tim, who's been quietly observing the interaction, finally speaks up. "So, [Name], Damian's told us a bit about you. How's school been treating you?"

You take a moment to collect your thoughts. "It's been... interesting," you reply diplomatically, trying not to reveal too much. "I’m used to online so it’s definitely an experience."

“[Name] takes a ballet class. They are also the lead in the upcoming winter performance,” Damian pipes up, no doubt trying to put you on the spot. Asshole.

Stephanie grins. “No way! Cass does ballet too,” she claps a hand on Cass’s shoulder. Cass nods. She signs ‘what is your favorite move?’ . Barbara opens her mouth, prepared to translate what Cass said, but you beat her to the punch. You respond, fingers moving in practiced efficiency to gesture out your favorite move. Cass grins in approval.

“You know sign?” asks Duke.

“I know a lot of languages,” you smile. It’s true. Many of the Avengers know multiple languages, and they took to teaching you as much as they could. You even learned some Asgardian to impress Thor (he cried). Nat said it was a crucial skill to have.

“Like what?” asks Bruce, leaning in.

You look up as you think. “Russian, Italian, Spanish, some German, some Latin…” you trail off, “...etcetera. My dad has a lot of cool friends.”

A shared look of impressed spreads throughout the room.  Bruce hums, “and what about your father? What does he do?”

“He invents things. Right now he’s on vacation. Don’t remember where exactly he said, but he sends me money every now and again.”

Bruce gets a kind of sour look on his face before nodding. “Ah, sounds like quite the character,” Bruce responds with a nod, trying to maintain his composure. You sense there might be more to Bruce's reaction, perhaps his adoption senses are tingling (God forbid). The dinner conversation continues on lighter notes as everyone shares anecdotes and stories, keeping the atmosphere lively.

“Damian says you also like to invent and program things,” pipes up Dick.

“Yeah, I’m actually working on something right now. It’s pretty big, but hopefully it’s works,” you reply vaguely.

“Your father must be very proud of your accomplishments,” Bruce remarks, his tone measured. He gets a couple of side-eyes.

You nod. “Yeah, he always encourages me to pursue my interests. He’s pretty cool like that.”

Barbara chuckles, "It's always good to have interests outside of school. Keeps things exciting."

Tim nods in agreement, sipping his drink. “Yeah, I dabble in programming too. It’s a useful skill to have.”

After a while, Alfred brings out dessert - a decadent chocolate mousse that looks almost too good to eat. Everyone digs in eagerly, sharing their thoughts on the meal and enjoying the dessert in comfortable chatter.

Throughout the evening, you notice Bruce observing you with a mix of curiosity and concern, as if trying to gauge something beyond your words. His occasional glances toward Damian and Dick imply a silent conversation that you're not privy to, though you catch a few knowing looks exchanged between the brothers.

As the dinner winds down, Alfred discreetly clears away the dishes, signaling the end of the meal. You offer to help with the dishes, but Alfred kindly declines, insisting that you're a guest tonight.

Dick stretches contentedly, breaking the comfortable silence that has settled over the table. "Well, it's been great having you over, [Name]. Hope you enjoyed the meal."

"Yeah, thanks for letting me crash dinner," you reply warmly, smiling around the table. "It's been really nice."

Damian stands abruptly. “I believe [Name] should be heading home now,” he states, pointedly ignoring the snickers.

You nod, rising from your seat. "Right. Thanks again for having me, everyone."

“You’re more than welcome to stay the night, [Name],” smirks Tim. “We have plenty of room, though I’m sure Damian would be happy to–” Cass pinches Tim’s ear, interrupting his sentence.

You smile at their antics. “My cat is waiting for me, so I have to pass. I appreciate the offer, though.”

Bruce nods, his expression serious yet not unkind. "Anytime, [Name]. You're welcome here."

With a final round of goodbyes and well-wishes, you follow Damian out of the dining room. The atmosphere between you two is quieter now, the playful tension from earlier replaced by a sense of calm. "You enjoyed yourself tonight," Damian states, more a statement than a question.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, your family's pretty entertaining. I like their dynamic.”

There's a moment of silence as you both stand there, the air thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions. You take a step closer, closing the distance between you and Damian. His gaze meets yours, a mixture of intensity and vulnerability that surprises you.

"You know," you begin, your voice low, "I do really like teasing you, Damian. But I also... appreciate our time together." Your heart beats a little faster as you admit this, feeling vulnerable yet strangely liberated.

Damian's expression softens further, a rare vulnerability in his eyes as he looks at you. "I... feel the same," he confesses quietly, almost hesitantly.

Before either of you can say more, the door creaks open, and Dick pokes his head in with a cheeky grin. "Hey, you two. Hate to interrupt, but Alfred’s outside ready to take [Name] home."

Damian straightens abruptly, a hint of irritation flickering across his features. "We'll be there shortly," he replies tersely, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

Dick raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Sure thing. Don't keep Alfred waiting too long," he teases before closing the door.

You roll your eyes playfully at Dick's teasing as he disappears, leaving you and Damian alone once more. There's a brief moment where neither of you speaks, the tension palpable in the air. Finally, Damian breaks the silence.

"We should go," he says, his voice low but firm.

You nod in agreement, trying to dispel the awkwardness that has settled between you. "Right. Let's go."

Together, you and Damian make your way out towards the front door of Wayne Manor. The grandeur of the mansion surrounds you, yet it feels less intimidating now, having spent an evening with Damian's family. As you step outside into the cool night air, Alfred waits patiently by the car, ready to drive you home. Damian walks beside you, carrying your stuff, his demeanor slightly tense yet thoughtful.

As you approach the car, Damian walks up to Alfred and mutters to him. Alfred raises a prim brow, handing Damian the keys with a nod. He walks back towards the Manor, where you see the rest of the family either peeking out the door or straight up standing outside looking. You snort. Damian sets your stuff in the backseat, opening the passenger side door for you to enter. You hum in appreciation, sitting inside.

Bruce watches the car drive away, a pinch in his brow.

“I thought Damian liked Jon?” questions Duke.

“He does.” Barbara squints. Tim gestures to the leaving car. “Then what was that?” he asks. Cassandra hums. “He also likes them, he doesn’t know it yet. Or he is just in denial.”

“Well if Cass says it’s so, then it’s so,” nods Stephanie sagely. Alfred leans closer to Bruce. “They may become part of your brood yet.”

"Perhaps," Bruce murmurs quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. Duke leans in, intrigued. "You think they're good for Damian?"

Bruce considers his words carefully before responding. "I think [Name] challenges Damian in ways that are both positive and... complicated."

Inside the car, Damian focuses on the road ahead, his grip tight on the steering wheel. The drive is quiet. You watch as people go on with their lives. Very few people roam the streets at this hour. You steal glances at Damian occasionally, noting the tense set of his jaw and the focused look in his eyes.

As you approach your apartment building, Damian breaks the silence. "I apologize for my family's... curiosity," he says, his voice soft yet tinged with annoyance.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. "It's alright, Damian. They just want to get to know me better."

Damian parks the car and turns to face you, his expression unreadable. "They can be... overwhelming at times," he admits reluctantly.

"You're lucky to have them," you remark sincerely.

Damian steps out of the car, grabbing your bag and walking you to the front door. The air feels like a stark contrast to the warmth of Wayne Manor. Damian's gaze meets yours, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. You lean in slightly, hesitating for a moment before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, just like last night. Damian freezes for an instant, different to his lack of reaction before.

"Goodnight, Damian," you murmur, pulling back slightly.

"Goodnight, [Name]," he replies softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a final smile, you close the door behind you. Damian stands there for a moment longer before driving away into the night. As you enter your apartment, you're greeted by the familiar sight of Nari lounging on the couch. Your phone buzzes in your pocket.

‘All of your materials have been delivered to the address.’ is what greets you when you open up Victoria’s chat. You grin, sending a thank you. Your bed feels like heaven as you sink into it. Tomorrow real progress will be made, and you can’t wait.

notes: reader and damian are practically dating already lets be honest they just dont know it yet

[irondad-defensesquad]

My Irondad fic recs!

I thought of doing this because why not? Admittedly, I'm not reading as much fanfiction as I did a couple years ago, but some fics have changed my life entirely. In case I forgot one, I'll add it later!

I would’ve organized this in a bullet list, but Tumblr hates me and invented a character limit for that. So this is going to be long and will be under the cut. Anyway, let’s do this!

Rare and Sweet As Cherry Wine by loubuttons – I've mentioned this one before, but this fic right here was what inspired me to write my own Irondad works. One very particular detail I like about it is how it portrays Maria, Tony's mother. It's not what I usually see in other fics about Tony's childhood, since they tend to make Howard the big bad parent. Of course, this is because I personally related to it, as I don't believe in the "bad parent vs. good parent". I also like that it praises Edwin Jarvis as the one who looked out for Tony the most. It's pretty realistic and a very melancholic character study, IMO. *TW for abuse and neglect*

You're Always Iron Man by madasthesea – a very short fic but I absolutely love the premise. Takes place after the big battle in Iron Man 2, and Tony finds little Peter again. They have a very endearing interaction. The following chapter is also very cute!

Nothing like a fresh cup of humiliation in the morning by madasthesea – Pure fluff! This one is probably a classic in the Irondad fandom. Tony kisses Peter's forehead without second thought. Shenanigans ensue. It's so adorable and funny. If you just want to read fluff without angst, this one is for you.

when my body won't hold me anymore (where will I go) by madasthesea - I think I heard about this fic thanks to @/irondadfics here on Tumblr, but I might be wrong since I already knew the Nice work, kid series. Anyway, Peter is believed to be dead, so Tony (and the rest of the Avengers team) is mourning him. In reality, Peter is astral projecting. You know, sort of like how Stephen Strange, in his first movie, was fighting a guy in the other dimension while his body on Earth was struggling to live. That's basically what happens. Strange appears, of course, and saves the day. And I pretty much LOVE the presumed dead trope. I don't know why. Maybe it's the angst of it all. *TW for grief/mourning and temporary character death*

The Reason by doctornineandthreequarters – I think I read this one when I was still writing Oh, take me back to the start. I was looking for fics for inspiration, and I found this one. During the Time Heist in Endgame, Tony remembers the reason he's fighting to bring everyone else back. It's very emotional.

Couch Cuddles by happyaspie – Classic sickfic, but with more fluff than anything. I like rereading it when I feel lonely and touch-starved, especially when I'm also sick like Peter.

You’re So Much Like Me (I’m Sorry) by SpaceCowboysFromMars – Irondad + Miles Morales! Peter is an adult in this, and he freaks out when an injured Miles arrives in his apartment. Tony gives him some wisdom about mentoring and parenting. I don’t usually find Irondad stories featuring Miles (and not necessarily a Spider-Verse crossover), so this was a nice discovery. Peter & Miles & Tony is a very underrated trio IMO. *TW for slight gore*

I'm Glad I Have You by punkybunny – Peter has been having a rough time, dealing with loneliness as Aunt May is not home often, and with bullying at school... until he finally has the chance to spend time with Tony. However, the demons don't disappear completely. Obviously, more Hurt/Comfort, lmao. *TW for nightmare/bad dream*

I Want to Trust You by punkybunny – Actually part of a series that, admittedly, I haven't read all the other stories. But even this one is a very interesting concept on its own. This is a Hydra Peter AU, after Peter has been rescued. He gets sick but given his past in Hydra, he thinks Tony is going to get angry. Peter is proven wrong when Tony helps him get better. The ending is very adorable. I'll see if I can read the rest of the series one day. *TW for past abuse and experimentation*

what you think I've done wrong by ironxprince – I don't often read Biodad stories as you all know, but I was, again, looking for inspiration for You keep me searching for a heart of gold, and I stumbled across this one. Basically Peter, as Tony's biological son, finally meets Howard. It goes as well as you think /sarcasm. *TW for physical abuse*

i, in time, will climb my mountain by ironxprince – This one is heavy. Once again, Peter is Tony's bio son, and he's suicidal. Every time Peter attempts suicide, he buys a new plant. Tony doesn't know this, so he's confused as to why there are so many plants in their house. I love this one, but of course, I try to read it when I’m not having a really bad day. *Once again, TW for suicide attempts*

how do you get that lonely (and nobody knows?) by parkrstark – Yeah... another heavy one. Peter attempts suicide but he saves himself before he reaches the ground. With that, he goes to Tony. This ends happily, don't worry. *TW for suicide attempt*

When You Can't Sleep by Emily_F6 – Pretty much Tony comforting a sleepy Peter, who has just had a nightmare about Thanos. Just Hurt/Comfort and domestic fluff. *TW for mention of death*

i get by (but it's eating me alive) by Livinei – Honestly, I think this is the BEST May's Abusive Boyfriend story I've ever read. For one, none of the characters are oblivious nor dismissive of Peter's feelings. May isn't neglectful and Ned actually tries to encourage Peter to tell someone. I also like that Peter isn't completely helpless. I don't usually see those things in other fics with this trope, sadly. And of course, Protective Tony is my weakness. *TW for emotional and physical abuse*

Hold Me Together by An_Odd_Idea – Post-Endgame where Tony is alive, and Peter and Tony are both trying to cope, so they rely on each other. Pure Hurt/Comfort.

A Tremendous Thing by ExpectoPatronum – Possibly one of my favorite Irondad stories EVER. Also post-Endgame with Alive Tony (though the author better explains it in the notes, it's supposed to be part of a series, but this story can be read on its own). There are a lot of references to Charlotte's Web if you're familiar with it. Basically, it's Father's Day and Peter is feeling guilty and out of place at Tony's lake house, even though everyone is readily trying to include him. It's absolutely beautiful and painful.

Hug You I Must by spiderwriting (catch_you_later) – Probably one of the first touch-starved Peter fics I've read. I like how it describes touch-starvation as this "itchy" current in your body, something that makes you anxious. Thankfully, Peter gets his hug later on. Plus there are some Star Wars references (the title probably is one, lol). *There's some minor violence here when Peter is fighting off some bad guys, but not the focus of the fic*

When You're There With No One There To Hold, I'll Be The Arms That Reach For You by Squibbles94 – Another touch-starved Peter fic. But I really like the references to Cast Away. Ironically I saw this movie in the same year the author published this fic (dare I say SHORTLY after it was posted). I also had no idea that Cast Away was entirely about isolation. Gosh, the main character's monologue at the end ALWAYS gets to me... anyway, yeah, the peak of the pandemic was awful to me, so reading fics like this one helped tons. It still does.

I am cold by N/A (orphan account) – Peter tries to visit Tony, but he gets lost in a subway tunnel on a freezing day. Eventually we learn why Peter wanted to see Tony, but overall this is mainly domestic fluff. Everything ends well.

Sorry Pedro by PinkEasterEggs – One of the first Irondad fics I read. Peter has a nightmare about Homecoming (mainly Toomes), but he avoids waking Tony for that reason. But thanks to F.R.I.D.A.Y's protocols, Peter goes to his mentor. Tony is also super soft here and it makes my heart swoon.

you are enough by diaz_evan – Another post-Endgame fic. Arguably I began reading Irondad fics only after Endgame released. Anyway, this one is short, kinda sad but it ends well. It’s Tony’s birthday and Peter feels very anxious about what to get him as a present. Thankfully, he doesn’t need to prove his love for Tony. *TW for panic attack*

Happy Father’s Day, Mr. Stark by downeylove – There are a lot of Father’s Day fics for these two, of course, but this one takes the cake for me. It’s simple but very endearing to me. Tony obviously doesn’t have good memories of this day, but Peter changes that for the first time. It’s really cute. Plus, Pepper is here, and I love her. I wish I could read more of her interacting with Peter. *TW for mentions of alcoholism and past child abuse*

5 Times Peter Didn’t Say He Was Struggling… And The One Time He Did by Bladam_Shevine – Again, an old fic I read years ago. I admit I haven’t re-read it in a while, but I remember enjoying it and even saving it to read offline. It’s basically what it says in the title: Peter struggles in many ways and he initially refuses help. Tony is always there to reassure him he can count on him. Bruce is here if you like him! And MJ helps Peter on one of the chapters as well. The chapters might get heavier as they go, but it ends on a hopeful note. *TW for injury, panic attack, suicide attempt (it doesn’t involve Peter), and depression*

The Good Days and the Bad by SoupGirlLovesSoup - Peter has had a bad day, now he's cuddling with Tony. It takes a while before Peter finally tells him what happened. It gets sad, but it's mostly fluff and it ends hopefully. I love re-reading it when I need the comfort. *TW for mention of suicide attempt, depression, and bullying*

Breathe Again by gwenoakley - Post-Endgame where Tony survives. He's recovering in the hospital and Peter finally reunites with him. Before that, though, we can feel the anxiety and trauma Peter feels. Definitely makes me emotional. It's the ending they deserved.

Popsicles and Playgrounds by ironfamjam - I can't believe I forgot to save this one in my bookmarks. I used to re-read this all the time! It's an AU where MIT student Tony meets a kid Peter. Eventually, Tony becomes Peter's babysitter! This is part of a series, which I still have to read fully. It's such a wholesome idea!! <3 *Howard's bad parenting is mostly mentioned*

Well, for now this is it! Again, I might add more fics here. I think I also could make a list of what particular concepts I want to read more in Irondad stories, so maybe you guys could give me your own recs. I might try to resume my habit of reading Irondad fics, because they give me a lot of comfort. Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoy any of the stories I included.

(I'm aware some authors here have their accounts on Tumblr, but I didn't want to annoy anyone by tagging them, so yeah 😅)

EDIT (June 4th, 2024): What Irondad fics I would like to read!

[quirkwizard]

Battle Report: A Retrospective on the Final War Arc

The Final War Arc is finally over. It's been a wild ride. And while I had my issues with it, I ultimately think was a good arc. I think it may go somewhere in the 7/10 to 8/10 range for my tier list of arcs. Who knows though. With all of that done though, I wanted to take a chance to look back on this arc and talk about what's transpired. Now, is this a little premature? Kind of. At the time of writing and posting this, the epilogue is still going on. The series has not ended and any of my complaints may be null and void after all of this is over. However, the arc is massive. It's eighty chapters long with dozens of plotlines and characters all mashing up against one another. I want to take the time out of focus on everything that has happened and leave the epilogue to it's own post.

And with that context, it is a lot to cover. Even if it's not the epilogue, it's still everything from chapter 343 to 423. So this post is going to be more disjointed, stream of conscious writing about my thoughts on specific parts of the arc that are worth talking about instead of doing some deep dive on the whole thing. Sure, I think the civilian stuff with Eri and everyone else in the bunker is nice in it's own way and I think how the pilots are used is hilarious, but that isn't enough for me to talk about. If you want me to discuss something in particular or expand on something here, I may talk about it later or add it to the post. With all of that being cleared up, my retrospective on the finale of the Final War Arc.

Shoto vs Dabi: This is the first fight of the arc, and we are definitely starting strong. I've already gushed about how much I enjoy this bit ever since it happened, so I will keep this brief. Of course, seeing Dabi back and all of his spiteful glory is great. Though, if we're being honest, the real start is Shoto and his new Super Move. The Phospher reveal is such a cool power-up for Shoto, and it works great in so many ways. It's a unique and clever way to counteract Dabi's firepower without just trying to overpower him. And it all leads to this beautiful and distinct art of flowing ice. It's so cool. And the best part is that it acts as the perfect cap to his character arc of trying to define himself, combining the two halves of himself into a combination that is completely his own. That's not even getting into the numerous references to phosphor, giving this even more depth.

All For One vs Endeavor: In spite of having a lot of focus, I don't have a lot to say about the forest fight. It's a lot of the same stuff as the Tomura fight, though not as egregious. I will say that I think Enji's bits in this arc are rather underrated. Having Enji fight All For One is a good way to wrap up that part of this character, finally growing past his own insecurities relating to Izuku and All Might while still achieving something that would make him worthy of being the top pro. The flashback about his father dying saving someone adds so much context to who Endeavor is as a person, and I'm really glad we got it. And having Endeavor burn away the past version of himself is such a cool image and a good moment for his character. Honestly, I think Enji continues his hot streak as one of the best written characters in this story.

Tomura vs Everyone: I didn't much care for this part. It felt very repetitive. Characters attack Tomura. It doesn't do anything. Tomura starts monologuing. Repeat. They couldn't do anything to Tomura, but as Hori has shown, he's reluctant to kill off named characters. It's why, despite getting ragdolled, none of them died. It didn't feel like the threat of death was looming over any of them, making this big battle feel relatively low-stakes. So we're stuck in this cycle of Tomura beating all of them up for dozens of chapters, only for neither side to really get anywhere. It feels like we're stalling. That Hori simply needed Izuku out of the picture to delay the final fight for him and Tomura. Which, sure, I get, but he could have at least made what was happening with Tomura more interesting. What's worse is that this is so much time spent with AFO Tomura. A character who isn't nearly as interesting as some of his parts and is a watered-down version of both.

Spinner's Assault: This is by far the worst part of the entire finale. Let's ignore the politics and message and how they may or may not apply to the real world. This mini-arc is focused on Koda, Shoji, and Spinner. All characters I like to varying degrees, but none feel like they have earned this kind of focus. The whole mutant discrimination plotline feels woefully underdeveloped, so having it be the center point of this part feels jarring. And saying it only happens outside the city is such a handwave. Not only does that make no sense, as bigotry can happen just as much, if not more, in metro areas, but it has little showing within the world. Hori, if you wanted to set this up, maybe you should have actually had some major focus on stories out of the city. So having so much time dedicated to it just feels wasteful and frustrating. I could go on a longer rant, but I will save it for another time.

Bakugou's "Death": What a waste. Come on now, did any of you really think Bakugou died here? Or would stay dead? And having his resurrection tied to his clustered sweat feels like a slap in the face of Edgeshot. The guy who reduced himself to a thin string just to save Bakugou's life. On that note, having Edgeshot be the one to save Bakugou feels… out of place. Edgeshot is a pretty minor character with no connection to Bakugou. Many figured that this sudden change would lead to some boost for Bakugou, but it didn't. So why Edgeshot? Why couldn't Best Jeanist be the one to do it, the one that is more important to both Bakugou and the audience? And this doesn't feel like a major change for Bakugou. If you have your character die and come, there should be some greater change to them or how they act, but it doesn't. At least, nothing as major as a death and resurrection should have. The biggest effect it has is on Tomura, bringing him out of the control of All For One, and Izuku, showing that he wouldn't lose control and break again. Once again, Bakugou's grievous injury is more important to the characters around him.

Rewound All For One: One of the more controversial parts of the arc. Is it a reach for Garaki to make the drug? Kind of. Is it annoying to still have All For One around? To a degree. Does it lead to some frustrating moments like All For One not unleashing his biggest area-clearing attack to start with when he knows he's on a time limit? Yes. However, I ultimately feel as though this does more good for the story than bad. By giving All For One this timer, it gives him a more definitive weakness to exploit and a ticking counter in the form of his body degenerating. And by keeping him around, it gives him a chance to go against Endeavor, Toshinori, and Bakugou. That way, they're completing their own arcs without feeling like any of their efforts are wasted or overstepping each other's time in the ring with All For One.

Dabi's Quirk: This is going to be a more personal annoyance, but I'm really frustrated with how Hori handled Dabi's Quirk. First off, him instantly using Shoto's technique against him is such nonsense. You're telling me that seeing it is enough for him to replicate it with no training?And him suddenly making ice for himself also makes zero sense. He hasn't shown anything like that before, and nothing about his power implies that he could. And don't tell me it's literally Rei's Quirks, but that makes even less sense. I could explain that as an evolution of his ice resistance, but that's more me trying to make sense of it. Could you justify it as being Shoto's sibling and their powers having similar mechanics and traits? Sure, but a lot of it comes across more as a convivence to keep Dabi's corpse moving. At least his design is cool.

Wasted Students: While the manga actually does a good job of distributing attention, there are some students that I feel were shafted. A special mention goes to Sero, Ojiro, and Sato, whom Hori pretty obviously just shoved together to get them out of the way. The ones I'm thinking about are Iida and Momo. Momo was one of the 1-A characters who had some arc, so having her be relegated to a living printer feels wasteful. However, I can at least forgive this a little. Her moment was during the PLF War, and her position makes sense. But shoot, Tenya was done dirty in this arc. He doesn't have any really cool moments of his own and very little in the way of character moments. I thought he was going to have something done with Stain, but no. Most of his time in this arc is spent supporting Shoto, quite literally in the case of the Ice Jet maneuver. Wait, why was he even fighting Dabi? Tenya himself admits he's a bad match for this, so why was he there? 

Shiketsu Students: This is one of the few moments in the arc that actually surprised me, and it's a welcome surprise at that. As someone who thought that the Shiketsu students were interesting but underdeveloped, it was cool seeing them act as reinforcements. What was even a better surprise was Camie's "Glamour" trick with the fake Hawks. That has got to be the funniest movement in this entire arc, bar none. Of the three, Inasa gets the most focus, and I think he does pretty well with it. While I do like his soft cap on his arc with the Todoroki's, reflecting his growth as well as their own, I really enjoy how much he just shuts All For One down this arc. All For One is trying to do these big speeches and one-liners, and Inasa is out here yelling him down like any other two-bit criminal. It's equal parts hilarious and awesome.

Tokoyami:  On the flip side of my statement about students, I think Tokoyami is really good in this arc. Tokoyami is one of the less prominent characters in terms of development and actual emotional moments to support him. The arc did a good job of giving him some kind of arc for his character. About how he sees his powers and how hard they are to control. And I'm going to be totally transparent here, I just think full-power Dark Shadow is really cool. There isn't anything deep or nuanced here. Seeing this giant shadow mecha loom over the whole battlefield and make All For One go pale is super sick. It's not just all action and character, either. He probably had one of the best reactions to anything ever in the whole series when illusion Hawks "died". So in spite of my issues with the other students, at least Tokoyami was done well.

The Big Three: Yeah, I didn't really care for what was happening with a lot of the Big Three. They ultimately fall into the same issues as everyone else in the UA Battle Zone that I talked about before. And while their massive railgun attack was cool on paper, it all amounted to nothing. It all feels like such pointless fluff to tide the user's over. It's not even like they have anything interesting going on character-wise, either. Mirio is easily the biggest victim of this. Ever since Mirio got his Quirk back, he hasn't really been given any chance to act outside of the costume or really be his own character. Seriously, the biggest moment he has is him acting as the butt of the joke in order to distract Tomura so Izuku can get in. Was there really no better way to do that? And as much as I want to remember him for other stuff he did, like yelling at Izuku, there really isn't anything else that sticks out.

Gearshift: Again, a more personal gripe, but one that bugs me a lot. I really don't like "Gearshift" as a power. Like "Fa Jin", it doesn't feel like it expands on any of Izuku's capabilities, only doubling down on what is already there. Unlike "Fa Jin", this had way more potential that went unused. Being able to alter the speed of an object or person is such an interesting concept. And for all of the hype surrounding it, it doesn't feel like it's used to its full potential. Really? We couldn't think of a better Quirk for him. Or at least come up with something more interesting for this one to do? All it's used for is to give a power boost to Izuku and make him go faster. The only time it's used to do anything else is when he uses it to speed up Bakugou. Why couldn't we get more stuff like that? Or at least maybe giving it a chance to interact with Izuku's other quirks for combinations?

Gigantomachia Battle: I like this well enough. As much as the reappearance of what's his face frustrates me, that's more of a carryover from my problems with Midnight's death and not the fault of this arc. It's a good follow-up for the brief arc with Mina and I like how much her new move ties into their growth with its name. Plus, it gave Shinso a cool moment that felt natural without stepping on anyone else's toes. I will say that I'm pretty confused at the sudden turn with Gigantomachia, who only really seems mournful over what All For One did once. And the one time he did, it seemed more regretful that someone as pathetic as Tomura was the successor. Otherwise, he just seemed like a loyal thug without much personality.

Todorokis vs Dabi: For the dramatic resolution of the Todoroki family storyline, I find myself having very little say about it. It's good. I really like seeing the feral, demented version of Dabi who is barely held together. Enji's lines about people watching him and taking responsibility become twisted with Dabi's view of him and his actions. I like the monologue Shoto gives as he's flying to stop Dabi. I guess my issue is that the rest of it doesn't stand out as much to me. And the actual resolution doesn't feel any different from the way Shoto fought him. It came across like the earlier fight with him was just there to keep him occupied so Enji could fight All For One and didn't serve any real purpose for the characters. That there needed to be this resolution for everyone else in the Todoroki family and for Dabi as well, but doing it like this lessens some of the punch. 

Uraraka vs Toga: One of my favorite parts of the arc. This entire section was such a dark horse for me, someone who didn't put a lot of stock in the Uraraka and Toga storyline. It shocked me how invested I was in the fight. Just seeing how hard Uraraka fights is so enthralling to watch, going through so much to help Toga. And this is one of the few points in the series where Awakenings work, with an Awakening that actually feels earned and relevant to the character at that. All because she wanted to help and connect with Toga in order to save her. And if Toga did die here, I wouldn't mind because I think it fits. She was able to live and die as her own person, making her own choices. All in all, it's a highlight of the arc and a great capstone for both of the characters.

Aoyama's Section: Why does Aoyama have so much focus on him? I don't dislike Aoyama, and I'm glad one of the more minor characters is getting attention in a way that feels relevant to who they are. I just don't think he really needed this much space to himself, having his own battlefield and major villain to fight, with little to no other focus on other characters. Having him stand up against All For One felt like more than enough of a final beat for his character arc. It was him acting in spite of his fears, facing down the scariest person in the entire series. Hagakure's presence bugs me here as well, since it just reeks of convivence. And man, giving out yet another Awakening? Were these not supposed to be rare? It's yet another example of an Awakening that barely feels any different from before and doesn't feel earned.

Toshinori Yagi vs All For One: Unlike a lot of fans, I wasn't as bothered by this part. On paper, Toshinori fighting All For One with a massive mecha suit kind of flies in the face of one of the core ideas of the series. That people without Quirks cannot be heroes. However, the story makes it clear that this is something that cannot stand up against All For One, requires all the resources of his decades of hero work, has decades of experience as the top hero, and he's only doing as well because he's fighting All For One because he's acting irrationally. My only reservation is that All Might is using parts inspired by the students. While I think these are cool, it seems like this is supposed to be his big moment as a teacher. And... I guess the story wants us to believe that. I don't know. It feels like Hori hasn't really put in enough work to have this be a satisfying payoff. He only really has two or so scenes involving the other students outside of Izuku. I believe he's a proper mentor to Izuku, sure, but as a real teacher for the whole class? Not really. Don't get me wrong, the idea and execution of it were fine, but the set-up needed more legwork.

Stain's "Moment": Yeah, this is something I can't forgive. Stain is such a major figure in My Hero Academia, both in and out of universe. He's the guy who changed the whole trajectory of the story and brought a whole new level of respect for the story. Hori brings him back to restore Toshinori's motivation and give them plans for All For One. And then he comes in for a big moment in the final fight. Only to be ragdolled, having accomplished nothing. There was no final moment of sacrifice, no heroic last stand. Just slapped aside and exploded. Not only does All For One's escaping feel like a mass convenience, just so happening to have a Quirk to push all the blood out of his body, but it's so disappointing for Stain. It feels like an afterthought. Like Hori remembered that Stain was around and threw him in to die. He doesn't even get a moment in the ghost realm. Come on, Hori. If you went through the trouble of having his Quirk stolen, why not do something more with it?

All For One's Backstory: Yeah, I still think this part of the story is hilarious. This is so over the top and dark that it comes full circle into being funny again. All For One's backstory feels like some edgy teenager fanfiction. Like he was born to a drug-addled mother, literally drained the life out of her to the point she died. He was nearly eaten by rats at birth, he was the real first Quirk user, he's been killing people since he was four years old. It was to the point that I thought All For One was lying about it to make himself seem cooler or more inhuman than he really was. But no, we're actually supposed to believe all of this and take it seriously. I really have to wonder what Hori was thinking with this. Is it supposed to show All For One as evil to the core? But doesn't that go against the idea that it's nurture over nature? Or maybe it's to show that the worst circumstances made the worst evil? Okay, then why is All For One so unapologetically evil, supposedly even before he was born?

Bakugou vs All For One: I find myself having very little to say about any of this. It's a big-ole fight scene with Bakugou and All For One. It doesn't feel like it really completes anything from Bakugou arc outside of his hang-up with All For One and All Might retiring. Yeah, I'm glad it got tied up and that Bakugou got to save Toshinori, but it hasn't felt all that relevant to his overall arc. Maybe I'm downplaying this a lot more than I should, but that's just how I see it. The only major hangup I have is with the whole "people wanting it bad enough changed the future for All Might." I chose to interpret this as more metaphorical than literal. Like everything that's motivating Bakugou is pushing him forward, or that all of the steps everyone took up to this point defied fate. Otherwise, we are getting into some stuff the series never talks about and never explains. At least this fight gave us the "Bakugou deals bonus damage to children" meme.

Dream Hawks: Okay, this isn't so much a real problem, but I feel like this is a big missed opportunity: why isn't Stain the one getting the vestiges to rebel? You know, the guy who had such focus and determination that he was able to ward off an entire squad of top heroes from attacking him with sheer force of will. The guy who ironically sparked a whole villain renaissance with his words about the rot at the core of the world of heroes. It'd give his death some purpose and give him one final amazing scene against All For One, giving him a chance to redeem himself after all the problems he caused the world with his dogma. Ironically, he'd be dying a hero and stopping one of the biggest threats to the world. But sure, give another scene to Hawks. It's not like he's been already been a heavy focus of the arc.

Izuku vs Tomura: We've been waiting for this fight for a while, and it did not disappoint me. Not only is the part where we finally get Tomura back, immediately making this fight far more enjoyable, but the fight itself is so cool. You can feel the struggle, exhaustion, and desperation in each of Izuku's panels. We get to see more of feral Izuku. Who doesn't want to see more of feral Izuku? What's better is that we actually get Izuku using some interesting strategies against Tomura, like pushing up the rocks to stop the spread of "Decay" while using it as cover to perform a counter attack. And having this be topped off with the sacrifice of "One For All" makes this all feel that much more harrowing of an experience, with Izuku piece and piece of himself just at a chance of victory. It's one of the few final fights of a series where I was actually worried about the main character.

Shared Dreamspace: This might just be my favorite moment in the whole arc. We get all the shared visions as our two protagonists begin to understand each other more. And for all of this talking, it never once tries to excuse Tomura for what he did. Even Tomura talks about how he doesn't regret what he's doing or why he's destroying everything. He's doing it all for himself and the League. And while Izuku can understand this, he can't condone it, and it doesn't excuse what Tomura did. It's a good way for both sides to get their points across in order to get some kind of resolution without feeling like it's breaking either of them. It's all about understanding and learning from each other, which is what this conflict has been all about. It's all so well done and pretty much exactly how I imagined a confrontation like this would go down between these two.

All For One's Return: Is it kind of frustrating that All For One has returned yet again? Sure. I can understand people getting sick and tired of him, now more than ever. However, I think it's explained well enough not to bother me, and ultimately, the only way for the story to have its cake and eat it as well. It's a clean way to remove Tomura from the story without having to dirty Izuku's hands. Tomura has made it pretty clear that he has zero intention of ever stopping, and redemption was not on the table for him. It also gives Izuku a final fight against All For One, who, while not as personal to Izuku, is the biggest evil in the series. On top of that, it fits with the idea of everyone coming together to be the greatest hero by getting their licks in on All For One. It's what the story has been pushing for the whole time: One For All fighting back against All For One.

Oboro, Aizawa, and Yamada: As much as I wanted to get excited about this part, it did feel woefully undercooked. Oboro's condition and Aizawa and Present Mic's reaction to it feel pretty minor in the grand scheme of things. They only get one chapter to hash things out, and it feels very rushed. Which is odd because it has some of the biggest impact on the arc itself, with Kurogiri teleporting everyone around and being the lynchpin in the two major paradigm shifts in the arc. It's Spinner's whole motivation for attacking the hospital, it removed Aizawa from the playing field at UA, and it ends up sending all of the doubles from the island to the fight in the forest. What we got was nice, especially Kurogiri saying he wants Tomura back when they are all fighting All For One, but sadly, it wasn't enough.

The Final Run-Up: Look, I am the biggest sucker for moments like this. Izuku is still standing in spite of losing both arms. Then everyone is coming out of the portals to the final fight, all firing out their attacks to go down. It's like Endgame, but actually thematically relevant to everyone coming together to beat the greatest threat to the world. And the part where all the good guys are helping the protagonist forward just so they can deliver that final blow. I can't help but feel hyped up as each of the other students and heroes fight back against All For One. We get All For One going out like a total punk. And we can share a final vision between Tomura and Izuku. I cannot say anything analytical or in-depth about this. I just think it hits all these different sweet spots in me while still ending things on a good note, and it brings me so much joy.

[lostelfwriting]

Bury Me with a Rose, We Both Have Thorns (Prologue)

Rating: Explicit

AO3 Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Death & Dream, Dream & Hob, Dream/Hob Gadling

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Death of the Endless, Hob Gadling, Jessamy, Matthew, Corinthian, Lucienne

Additional Tags: NO Major Character Death, Hanahaki Disease, Terminal Illnesses, Thoughts about death and dying, Decaying Health, Refusing Treatment, Strong Language, Unrequited Love, Enemies to ?, Past Minor Characters Death(s), Protective Death of the Endless, Doctor Human!Death of the Endless, Alternate Universe - Human, Tattoo Artist Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Flower Shop Owner Hob Gadling, Blood, Angst with a Happy Ending

Word count: 32k

I'm posting the whole work here on the 1st of March, but I strongly reccommend you read it on AO3, where I will be posting one chapter per day. Either way, click Read More or go to AO3 to read the Prologue!

Written for the event @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang. With beautiful art by @five-and-dimes!

It is a slow day at the studio, so while he is waiting for his next appointment, Dream is – like he does almost all of his free time – sketching new tattoo designs to add to his portfolio and listening to music loud enough to completely shut out his own thoughts. He is sketching a snake, having no doubt that it will catch someone’s eye. There is always someone who wants a tattoo of a snake. He pauses to look at his progress and ends up snorting in disbelief.

The drawing is truly a snake, but the reptile is weaving among the stems of flowers instead of a dead branch like Dream had intended. And they are ugly flowers at that. He is pretty sure that he gave a pot of those flowers to his secondary school teacher, who always called him Murphy, even though he hated that nickname. He can’t resist snapping a picture of the flowers with his phone and trying to look up what they are, but once he finds the name – cyclamen – he refuses to look up their meaning. It would surely be something stupid, like forbidden love, or maybe hopelessness.

Even the snake’s scales seem to actually be made of flower petals, and Dream rolls his eyes as he flips the page of his sketchbook. The downside to trying to tune his mind out is that he doesn’t notice when his subconsciousness begins to interfere with his process, and it has led to many flowery paintings in the past months. With a sigh, he starts copying the usable parts of the design onto another page until an insistent thought makes him pause mid-movement.

Just a few weeks ago, he would have been furious if this had happened. He used to tear those ruined sketches to pieces and then go outside into the late winter chill and glare at every passing person who dared to look his way. He wished they all felt as bad as he did, and most of all, his neighbour with his shop opposite Dream’s studio, with its bright, flowery logo.

Today’s drawing incident feels like just a small inconvenience. He feels zero anger, though he might still opt to destroy the sketch later, just for the miniscule satisfaction that the action will bring him. Or maybe he will keep it. Pin it to the wall next to his bed and look at it every night. He will look at the ugly flowers and realise with wry amusement and aching hollowness that he has finally accepted his fate.

He, Morpheus Endeles, is going to die.

He thinks about it and waits for anger or grief to appear, but they don’t. Good. He was getting sick of the self-pity. It has been months since he noticed the first symptom – the occasional cough – as something seemed to tickle his throat, easily blamed on a bit of dust. And then, a bit later, when he lay awake late at night and everything around him was quiet, he heard the soft rustle of leaves as he breathed. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him that he had the Hanahaki Disease. He tears the ruined sketch out and shreds it into tiny pieces, enjoying the bit of satisfaction that it brings him. Maybe he is still harbouring some badly suppressed anger. He doesn’t need a fortune teller to tell him that he has no chance of getting affection from the person he hopelessly loves. Because it is his neighbour, the owner of The White Rose, Robert Gadling, a straight man who rightfully dislikes Dream.

+*+*+*+*+

Cyclamen: resignation and good-bye

[call-of-ishmael]

The Last Ishmael OCD Post

One of my first times that i dabbled into character analysis was about Ishmael's OCD, people like that post but i really feel i could have done better

Canto V was my last major chapter i was willing to read. As i put more distance between me and the story, i want one final farewell in the form of finally fixing up my analysis

PART I: THE META-TEXTUAL

Before i delve into the writing itself, here is some pointers the story gives to her OCD in the form of flavor text and descriptions.

Firstly we have her Bio

This is easy to miss as its just a tiny blurb above her whole intro blurb.

Now, "obsessive compulsive neurosis" is a very weird way to phrase it, "obsessive compulsive" is clear enough but "neurosis" is odd, this is not TOO odd though, as "neurotic" used to be how OCD was classified as a disorder.

However if we look at her bio in Korean, the particulars do simply straight up say "OCD" very clearly, you'd need to MTL but this was also confirmed to me by a friend from SK

The sinner bios are biased though, and are written through a very corporate lens, so lets see if there's any other pointers elsewhere

Her base EGO, Snagharpoon, actually does just that

Her passives name is called "Compulsion" and in its gameplay design its a very interesting way to also point to it

Ishmael is a very all or nothing person, you do it well or you don't do it at all, and this is reflected on how this passive aids you to play

This passive is excellent for boosting the consistency of playing by only going for "Favored" or "Dominating" clashes, while punishing you for taking chances on clashes you MIGHT win

Base ID Ishmael is also a unit with all single coins, rolling tails puts her in a very unfavorable position so this also adds an extra safety net on top. Worth noting being all single coins is also a high risk high reward type of play style.

Finally we see two more pointers id like to note, both from Canto V

The Compulsive`s Knot, an ego gift themed after a naval rope, one of many in the dungeon all alluding to her struggles.

Most obviously though

Her exclusive status effect, Compulsion. This is in direct reference to her EGO passive, providing an attack boost at the same time it provides a drawback in the form of low SP.

We are gonna talk a bit more about this passive since it ties into another gameplay oriented way to point towards her OCD

During the story dungeon we have an event where a noise is heard, you are given two choices, check, gain SP, don't check, lose SP.

Compulsive checking is probably the most well known (to the conditions detriment we will talk about it later) hallmark of OCD

Notably, this doesn't aid Ishmael, while checking can avoid the combat encounter, not checking only has a chance of triggering it, and most interestingly, her SP will always start at -25 during combat encounters. Meaning the temporary boost in her sanity will just get reset next battle, should you decide to check. Checking wont satisfy her anxiety for more than a brief moment.

Lastly the most obvious ones are all the references to Obsession. These are so abundant i feel if you are familiar with the Canto its redundant to have them, i wanted to draw more attention to the allusions to compulsion, as they are less common.

PART II: BEFORE THE STORM

Even since before her own Canto, we can see Ishmael's ruminating and anxious tendencies pop up during previous chapters, which for OCD is important to explore as OCD is an anxious and ruminating disorder.

So lets talk a little bit about OCD! Its a disorder characterized by repetitive and constant intrusive urges to perform a task or a thought (lets keep this in mind for later)

These thoughts or actions are used to try to relieve stress from an anxiety inducing thought or situation. The most common example is OCD exacerbating germ phobia, and causing people who have it to wash their hands in excess.

While OCD is usually described as "irrational thoughts" i feel that's a pretty limited way to view it in my own experience with it. OCD compulsions and thoughts can be informed by very real worries, the worry of getting sick, of making the wrong moral choices, of hurting others. Being clean is a normal and a good practice to stave off getting sick, its the frequency and intensity that turns it maladaptive, OCD turns your own lived fears and traumas against you, and those might very well be real things to worry about, which makes dealing with it very hard.

Enough of that off to the writing!

Lets start with Canto II

This is the first example of her constant need for a lack of ambiguity, previous to this we see her complain about the treatment the sinners are receiving from Effie and Saude, skeptical of the whole deal.

Until shes shown the plans, they are so well crafted shes able to anchor to that and calm down.

This by itself is not really much other than being very detail oriented, lets look a bit further into the chapter

Here we see that aspect elaborated upon more, this moment is framed as a very important one between Dante and Ishmael in their dynamic later on, Ishmael is incredibly upset at the plan having fallen apart so quickly, while yes this is not unreasonable to be upset at, her anger is remarked on by Dante and Gregor as very intense and unusual. This in my opinion is a minor but clear indication her need for planning and considering every option is due to a deep anxiety, but don't take it from me, lets look at Canto III

Here we are told pretty explicitly, Ishmael moving quickly and asking lots of questions is something Dante has noted as an anxious habit.

And here we have more elaboration on what exactly that moment at the Casino meant for Ishmael, it was enough anger and disappointment she has stopped expecting Dante to perform well and instead taken it upon herself to see things go according to plan, this is VERY important to her.

And her worries, are repetitive enough to annoy others, and to be remarked upon by Dante.

This is perhaps the more notable chain of events to point out previous to her chapters aside from 4.5, as it helps contextualize all her usual ways of acting in a more complete light, showing a lot of this is driven by a deep anxiety

And this all makes S.E.A all the more interesting as it pays off on this.

Something i quite enjoy about Limbus is how it re-contextualizes things characters have previously done and said. And the events of S.E.A and Canto V bring a lot of interesting stuff to the table

Lets get cracking with this chapter

In general shes extremely confrontational, and tense, more than usual

But its her anxious outbursts i wanna focus on, what she puts

emphasis on.

This chapter is so crucial in this whole analysis. We see some behaviors way more clearly now, firstly we see her emphasize her need to be absolutely 100% prepared for this, no ambiguity no risks she wants certainty.

But we see something even more clearly and that's her ruminating behaviors, shes brought up things like this to a smaller extent before like commenting on a lot of aspects but here we see in full display her inner world become externalized, shes started voicing worries shes never voiced before can Dante turn them back always? What if Dante dies? What if the sinners get eaten can that be turned back?

And these don't all get brought up immediately, she mentions them in different conversations, pointing to the fact shes constantly going over the subject in her head with no pause, and she gets frustrated when she cannot work on these worries when she cant do anything to quell the anxiety.

And the last part, when Dante finds her so fixated in her planning its impossible to even talk to her. She has to perform some action do something to stave off the disaster she can see coming in her head

As someone with OCD inevitably i have to mention the personal component that drew me to analyze this was how real this feels to when you spiral

A lot of the times OCD is explained as the compulsions being something you do cause you feel its a sort of ritual to stave off disaster. Its in this way i see it reflected in this moment.

As we see with Heathcliff acting as her foil, he points out her worrying is really not doing much other than just her talking and talking, and by the state shes in when Dante checks in on her, aimless not even paying attention to anything else we see the main objective of the planning really isn't practical as much as a compulsive coping mechanism.

She has to do something

PART III: INTO THE DARK

Lots to cover and honestly i will make a companion post to this with all the examples, so for this section i wanna cover some highlights instead, as well as a general discussion of the tone.

The way this chapter is structured is very interesting, its really reflective of the mental state of Ishmael. The chapter feels really aimless, they wander around not really ever finding what they need, which drives Ishmael more and more tense and frustrate

Its a good continuation to how we see her by the end of S.E.A fixated on one goal one thing

As previously stated shes inflicted with a constant special and unique to her status effect called "Compulsion" as covered in Part I

Her behavior is also reflective of this

For a good part of the first third of the chapter shes in her room, the whole time whetting her harpoon, nonstop

However you might notice compulsion is not as present as obsession, and compulsion is also important to OCD its in the acronym! And i have seen others point to it too

However id like you to remember, in the post earlier i said thoughts can fit into OCD, compulsions can be mental and sometimes almost exclusively or mostly mental. Its even in the DSM noted that for diagnosis the compulsions to count you for a diagnosis can be mental in nature

Its in this aspect that i feel Ishmael shines a lot

In general OCD in media is lacking in representation and is often a trait given to assholes or villains

The normal conception of OCD in movies or TV is of neat freaks or control freaks, Compulsion is usually heavily emphasized when it isn't the whole picture

Often ignored though is the aspect of Obsession, some people can have Purely Obsessional OCD (Pure O), this isn't a formal diagnosis or term but its colloquially used by people who have it. Its a bit of a misnomer, as compulsions are present but internalized as mental rituals or rumination

Usually its harder to diagnose, its harder to treat as there's no apparent compulsions others can see, and the people having it seem pretty high functioning to the people around them.

This can be noticed though in people avoiding certain subjects, avoidant behaviors can be the clearest external behavior.

I personally read Ishmael as having more mental compulsions, the way she tends to be a more ruminating and anxious character than outwardly compulsive

During S.E.A and Canto V we see outward compulsions more but from the examples from previous Cantos we can see that's not her usual and she operates more on anxious overthinking most of the time.

However another aspect that ties into mental compulsions is in the previously mentioned avoidant behaviors, we see her isolate and try to stave of having to deal with her worries in both S.E.A and the beginning of Canto V when shes in her room, in both cases doing some excessive preparation in a compulsive way.

CLOSING THOUGHTS

As previously stated Canto V deserves its own companion post, and ill work on that later, i feel this encapsulates what i wanted to say well enough.

I wanted to discuss the previous signs of her behaviors that make me certain her OCD is an intended textual read, and in my opinion a well executed one

Canto V was hard to read as it felt very real and very familiar to the worst times i have had due to my OCD.

Shes a character that despite my distaste i have developed for the franchise, it will never stop meaning a lot to me same as her chapter will always be a piece of storytelling that affected me deeply in ways others haven't

To close i want to leave off what i feel encapsulates the feeling pretty well, in my favorite moment with the membrane consuming her as a metaphor for letting fear, anger, obsessions and compulsions cloud your mind until you forget why you were even there

To you, dear reader, Bon Voyage

[little-annie]

Genuine Leather

8.4k E Complete

Steve's belt keeps disappearing and when he does manage to find it, he's discovers much more than he expected to behind Eddie's bedroom door.

Or, a little bit of pining and some filthy smut

Or, a piece of fanart had me drooling and I felt legally obligated to write a fic to go along with it

[Roommates | Bondage | Breath Play | Improper Use of Steve's Belt]

Licorice Ice Cream

3.8k 2/?Ch T WIP but chapters can be read as stand alone

It's damn hot in Hawkins Indiana and of course the Munson's AC is busted. But at least Starcourt Mall has functional AC and an ice cream shop and what is that? Steve Harrington in a Sailors Costume?

[Eddie's POV | Scoops Ahoy | Supportive Uncle Wayne | Heat Wave]

Ghostly

3.6k 2Ch E Complete

"It started in the nights where he'd awake from the horrors of his nightmares to a sudden chill that'd linger at his side. An eerie but oddly comforting feeling that'd press against his body with intent. Pressure at his back and wrapping around his waist, a touch he'd longed for but never had the chance to experience. A touch he'd been desperate for since spring break of 86'. A touch he'd wish to experience in the aftermath of hell but never once had the opportunity before it was taken away and left to rot in the barren wasteland of the Upside Down.

A touch of a man he knows he could have grown to love."

OR Steve falls in love with Eddie's ghost

...but I was high on cold medicine when I wrote this lol so don't expect too much

[Post S4, Ghost Fucking, Happy Ending]

Something More

3.8k E Complete but may add to later

Steve Harrington's not gay.

He just needs more.

And well, 'The Freak's' more.

Or the start of something more between 'The King' and 'The Freak.'

[Internalized Homophobia | Public Blow Job | Steve's First Time With a Man]

In this Lifetime

2.4k T Complete

Years down the road Steve asks Eddie to help plan his proposal, specifically what to say to his future fiance and well, things don't go quite as planned when Eddie's the one who ends up down on one knee.

Or, Eddie never bothered coming out to the ragtag group of monster hunters and so Steve had always thought a future with him wasn't in the cards.

Or, they inevitably sort their shit out and realize they're in love with each other

[Roommates | Post S4 Eddie Lives | Requited Unrequited Love | Panic Attack]

Figured it'd be Different

9.7k E Complete

He has a big fat crush on Eddie and Steve Harrington's never really been good with words so he hoping his actions might spur Eddie to take charge and do something about it.

OR Steve decides to make Eddie jealous by sleeping with people while he knows Eddie's awake and has no choice but to listen.

OR Eddie goes half nuts trying to figure out if everything Steve's doing is intentional or not, he finally clues in when Steve tells him word for word what he's doing any why.

[College | Exhibitionism | Accidental Voyeurism | Fluff and Smut]

They Have to Tell Them

2.6k 3Ch T Complete

Eddie and Steve have been together for a while and they think it's finally time they tell their friends.

OR They come out to Dustin, Robin and The Party on three separate occasions and it's quiet hilarious

[Coming Out | The Party | Secret Relationship]

Closets and Dill Pickle Chips

11.8k E Complete

Steve comes out to Robin a few times whether he means to or not. When he finally does it sober, she helps him devise a plan on how to win over Eddie.

OR From Steve's Bi-Awakening, to Bi-Panic to figuring out he loves a boy.

OR A glimpse into Steve's self discovery and getting the boy of his dreams

OR The first time in years Steve allows himself to cry, is the first time he makes love to Eddie Munson

[Coming Out | Eddie is Steve's Bi Awakening | Friends to Lovers | Bi Panic]

Art by @ahhrenata

Mission: A Very Steddie Christmas

21.6 E Complete but may add to later

The Party and Robin are sick and tired of Steve and Eddie dancing around (read: being hopelessly blind to) each other's affection. So, like any good friends, they set out with a plan to have the pair coupled up before Christmas. Shenanigans and scheming ensue and sooner than later we find the boys giggling and entangled under the Mistletoe.

[My 1st Complete Steddie Fic | My First Time Writing Steddie Smut | Xmas Fic | The Party | Friends to Lovers | Fluff | Eventual Smut]

[dailydegurechaff]

I wanted to know how do you interpret Tanya's gender. After reading chapter 58 of the manga i got the impression that she is definitely trans coded, but maybe thats just me

Very good question.

To be honest, when I think too hard about Tanya’s gender (and sexuality, for that matter) it gives me brain worms. Fun brain worms, but brain worms nonetheless. I can’t explain it. Everything she’s got going on is complicated as shit there’s way too much to think about.

Like, she was a man, but now she's a girl. But at some points she says she still sees herself as a man internally so is this MtFtM? How does that work. And if she accepts she's a woman now, is that just MtF or do we add more letters. More importantly: Was Being X being Transphobic or being the Greatest Trans Ally of All Time with the free divinely issued sex change.

Ok ok, jokes aside. Confession: I actually do not keep up with the manga, so I had to go find the chapter and read it first. Having read it now though, I see what you mean.

The conversation she has with the Salaryman/herself in that chapter really does read as essentially saying “I’ve accepted who I am now.” It’s a far cry from a much earlier part of the manga I remember where she has a breakdown about being a man/people seeing her as a girl.

A friend of mine was actually showing me stuff from more recent chapters of the manga (don’t know which chapter tragically, but I know it’s not currently translated to English) and from what I gathered of it, Being X was showing Tanya a dream of being back in her past life and in response she basically demanded to go back to being Tanya immediately. It is definitely not just you, I 100% see the trans-coding you’re talking about.

As for my personal interpretation of her gender, I touched very briefly on it once before, but I honestly think she wouldn’t want to label herself as anything. At first, this is out of hesitance and not wanting to acknowledge that anything might be ““wrong”” or ““different”” about her. Later on it turns into character growth, more along the lines of, “I don’t need the label to define me, I just am what I am/like what I like. I don’t care about it any more than that.” Yes this is 100% projection on my part. No, I won’t apologize for it lmao.

Of course, that's entirely my own headcanon. I definitely am not saying it’s the only way to interpret her, it’s just my personal thoughts. Especially since my opinion is subject to change on a dime depending on what I’m reading/working on myself. The Tanya gender is, in fact, transient, shifting like water.

Like. A transfem Tanya fic that focuses on her adapting to life in her new world and coming to discover she doesn’t actually hate her new body? I’d totally read that. I’ve seen a few fics that include that as a part of the narrative and those scenes of acceptance were among my favorite parts.

I get the feeling this is the route that the manga is going as well. It’s a bit of a shame that we don't have those aforementioned scenes in the light novel (or at least, I don't remember them), but I don’t think that Carlo Zen really intended that to be the focus/narrative in the first place. And honestly, I also think that’s a good thing because it allows for so much more room for interpretation and headcanon around Tanya’s character.

Anyway, the other direction is also compelling to me. A transmasc Tanya fic where, after feeling uncomfortable and hating how feminine he looks for years and years, he finally goes ‘Fuck this, I’m gonna go back to being a man’? I would read the fuck out of that too.

Could also be paired with him finally choosing to defect, where they think about it like, ‘Well there’s nothing to hold me back now, right? I don’t have to maintain appearances anymore. Also, since I’m defecting this would be a great way to hide myself. They’d all be looking for the wrong person. Two birds with one stone, how efficient.’ …Now we’re getting to fic ideas I won’t ever get to so it’s time to move on I think.

Semi-related to the Trans Tanya Concept, this actually brings me to a bit of a lore/headcanon/idea/question I want to present to the public for opinions. In Norden, during the inciting battle of the war, Tanya uses magic to “dope up” so she could enhance her strength and reaction time and kill pain. I took this to mean she used a formula to synthesize the narcotics/adrenaline hormone/whatever else directly into herself, right?

Can you see where I’m going with this? As long as you know which hormones to make, how they’re made up, and what quantities you need… Well, don’t you think magic HRT is completely possible? Of course, as I'm not sure it makes sense for Salaryman to have known the detailed specifics about it from the modern world, it would require a lot of in-universe research/science advancement for someone to actually do that, but theoretically...

The magic system in this universe has so much potential to be explored, I’m fascinated by what you can theoretically do with it. Although, this is long and off-topic already I think this should be the end, lol.

I think I talked too much? I’m sorry, you were probably not expecting such an answer. I told you, Tanya gives me brain worms (mental illness).

I guess the TL;DR is this: that kid definitely ain’t cishet.

[fang-and-feather]

Ikemen Vampire - Jean x OC

Words: 898

Summary: Amy had always been confident in herself, other people's opinions never mattered much. But now that it's their wedding night and the time to be intimate with her lover for the first time had come, she was very conscious of all the faults people ever found in her appearence

Tags: Fluff, a bit of comfort, some self image doubts

I planned this to be a smut fic, didn't plan for it to be an OC rewriting of an even story, but everything went against my plans 😅

I might add he smut as a new chapter later, I just wasn't as ready to write it as I thought and decided this part worked on it's own

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

Amy thought all the joy of the day would be enough to drown out the nagging thoughts in her head.

Now that everything had quieted down and they were alone, it wasn’t. The weird feeling she had when seeing herself in the mirror that morning was impossible to run from. Especially when it was time to face these things.

Her body never bothered her much, but now that the time to be intimate with her lover for the first time had come, she was very conscious of it.

Sure, she had an athletic build, not something people would often complain about, but at the same time, she was told in the past how flat she looked, or how she was easily mistaken for a guy in her youth, and for the first time it started to bother her.

Jean surely loved her the way she was, but this situation was different. Love and attraction were different things. Or so she heard her friends say. As if being completely inexperienced and barely knowing what she was doing wasn’t enough, she couldn’t even call herself attractive enough to compensate.

“Amy?” Jean asked, caressing her face.

“Sorry. Just thinking.” A smile came to her face easier than she expected, just to have her attention taken back to her beloved and the memories of the dreamy wedding they had.

“Happy thoughts, I hope.” Jean smiled back.

“Happy indeed.” Not exactly a lie. She still had a lot of happy thoughts in mind, especially when looking at him. “I am finally married to the man I love most in this world. How could I not be happy?”

“And it’s also finally our wedding night.” Amy blushed at him being so direct like that. She didn’t expect him to be the one to bring it up. “You know what that means?”

“What?” Amy gulped, but tried to give him a questioning look to cover her nervousness. This didn’t come as easily, but at least her voice came out normal.

“A married couple only becomes husband and wife after their wedding night, right?”

That was enough to break a little of the tension within her as she held back a laugh. Where did that come from? No. She was certain it was Arthur and Dazai filling his head with nonsense again.

Kissing her softly, Jean carried her to bed. He whispered her name, leaning over her. Amy found herself relaxing under his gaze and touch, her eyes naturally closing… Only to open again at the sound of soft laughter.

“I’m sorry, Amy.” Jean pulled back just a fraction. “I only wanted to tease you a little.”

“Wait. You were just teasing?”

“Even I know we became husband and wife when we got married, not because of our first night.”

He looked so serious, she really did believe him. Him having fallen for Arthur and Dazai giving him the wrong information wouldn’t be anything new, despite all the times she and Mozart told him not to believe everything the writers said.

But more than that, she couldn’t believe he had it in him to tease her like that! Jean had surely come a long way since they met.

“Jean!” As she tried to playfully shove him, he caught one of her wrists.

“I am still a little nervous, and you looked like you were too, so I thought I’d break the ice.”

That was right. Jean had as much experience with this as her, and also had his own problems with his image. The scars that, for some reason, hadn’t fully healed when he became a vampire had been a huge source of concern to him.

“You just look so beautiful today.” Jean continued, letting go of her wrist to interlace their fingers, his hand slightly cold and trembling. “I’ve been staring at you all day and I’m still not used to it.”

He rested his forehead against hers, and she couldn’t help but smile back, tightening her hold on him.

Sometimes she noticed his hesitation in the happiest moments, as if he still fought with the thought that he didn’t deserve it. And all she wanted to do was reassure and protect him.

Moments like this reminded her of the first night she saw him without his eye patch. How the first words he spoke to her were an apology. How he called himself ugly. A monster. And how she reassured him. The first night they faced each other with such openness and how they accepted each other’s feelings.

They should have the same openness and understanding now.

With her free hand, Amy reached out to touch Jean’s face, contouring the edge of the eyepatch before moving to remove it. Jean tightened his hold on her hand just slightly, but allowed her to do so.

“You are just as beautiful.” She whispered back, caressing the edge of his scar. “And I am just as used to it, but, used to it or not, I want you to make love to me. My husband.”

She was still afraid of disappointing him, but Jean probably was too. Not that he could. And if he couldn’t disappoint her, that meant she couldn’t disappoint him either, right?

Amy gently pulled him down for a kiss, drowning both their worries in the love and passion they had for each other. Enough passion to reassure her that everything would be fine.

Tag List: @tele86, @nightghoul381, @natimiles, @bicayaya, @eventinelysplayground, @queengiuliettafirstlady, @2-lines-and-a-circle

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

[triplesilverstar]

An Easter Hunt

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI 

Pairing: Knives X F!Reader

CW: Dom/Sub undertones, Mentions of future, Future children, mentions of public sex

Word count: Roughly 1.3K

A/N: Chapter twenty two of the series, where you and Nai are out for a walk and after a run in with a child you and Nai have a discussion.

Walking through the park that sat in the central location of the city was usually interesting, on this particular Sunday it was more so than usual for one reason. Your boyfriend had wanted to go for a walk which was slowly becoming more and more common for the two of you. 

Just not always during daylight hours since Nai had a thing for ducking into thick foliage at night and sinking into your warmth. 

Another item to add how it was out of the ordinary was that it was the annual Easter egg hunt. The final item being one that made you laugh on the inside because you were not giving him a free reason to punish you. 

Nai, abhorred children.

So seeing a boy, no older than seven come running out of the bushes with a basket filled with colorful eggs, bounce into your boyfriend's leg sending his jeweled prizes tumbling everywhere, and start to cry, while Nai looked down with abject terror was absolutely hilarious to you. 

If it had been anywhere else, Nai would have just snorted his disdain and kept on walking, but today when so many members of the public, and well-known members of the public at that, out and about, it meant he had to try and console the child. “Ah, there there” His head is whipping towards you and for the first time since you’ve known the hard man, a brief flash of panic is reflected in them. You know his panic has nothing to do with the child, more in regards to his public image and you can picture the headlines now. 

CEO of Saverem Inc. Charming businessman or ruthless monster? K. Saverem seen stealing Easter eggs from Children. 

Shaking your head you pick up the boy's basket, placing the displaced eggs back inside, and maybe tossing in a few that had been hidden in the area nearby. All the while hearing terrible consoling from your boyfriend while the child's crying seems to just get louder. Eggs collected, you rejoin them and drop down to be closer to eye level with the boy. 

“Hey there young man. I see you’ve met my boyfriend” Your cheerful tone has the boy turning to look at you instead of rubbing at his eyes. “I know he looks a little scary” you snicker here, causing the boy's tears to slow “but I promise he’s very nice.” A lie, he’s only nice to you and a few select others, and even then that’s when he feels like it.

You hold your hand out and introduce yourself to the boy, who nods and takes your hand so you can help him stand. “Here’s your basket back. Now let's dry those silly tears because I hear the Easter bunny might still be around. You wouldn’t want him to think you didn’t like the eggs he hid for you to find would you?” The boy is shaking his head while you pull some tissue from your purse and gently wipe his face. Tears and snot dried you smile at him, all teeth, to which the boy smiles back “Now, be more careful ok? Next time the people might not be as nice as us.” Waving as the boy runs off you walk to one of the garbage pails next to a bench tossing the used tissues away. 

“Perhaps it would have been more helpful if you had consoled the child first, Pet” You shake your head, not sure what you’d been expecting the gruff man to say. Returning to his side, you take his offered arm as you continue your walk. “While you handled that adequately, there was no need to call me scary.” His tone is back to its normal one of cool indifference, but at this point, you can read in between the lines. He’s going to enjoy using it as an excuse to punish you later, and you find yourself warming at the thought. 

“I won’t say I’m sorry, because I think the kid needed to hear it, besides I don’t think you’re scary. I think you’re quite handsome, with those sharp features of yours.” You grin, feeling the light chuckle through his arm. “You aren’t good with kids though. What are you going to do if we ever have any?” A strange conversation to have in a park, but after this long in the relationship you’d like to know his stance on kids. Hell if you weren’t taking several different kinds of precautious at this point the two of you might have had one already. 

“I never intend to father any offspring. Strange as this may sound Pet, I value my time with you too highly to see it reduced. Most men of my standing procreate to produce an heir to their empire, which are raised by hired help.” You find yourself a little surprised at his words, but they do make sense. Hearing him state that he does, in his Nai way, admit that he enjoys your company does send a shiver down your spine. “I cannot picture you allowing some stranger to raise a child you bear, therefore, children would cut into our time together.” You can honestly admit that was an answer you never expected to hear, but damn Nai and his logic because he is right. You’d want to be a mother to any kid you had, not send them off for a nanny to do the work for you. 

“So you wouldn’t want a Nai junior to take over your company someday?” It does surprise you a little, Nai plans everything. Hell Nai probably already has your entire life planned out for the two of you because at this point you honestly can’t see him getting rid of you. 

“At the rate my brother, and his little harem copulate, I imagine it won’t be too long until my brother is a father. One of his brood should be intelligent enough to garner my attention and I can groom them to take my place.” You almost laugh at that, Nai’s voice full of nothing but disdain, while he loves his brother as much as any normal sibling relationship goes. He despises the fact that his twin is dating not one but two people. While he has no issue with the woman his twin is dating and following like a love sick puppy a woman in his own employ in his human resources department at the moment. It’s the man that his twin is involved with that makes Nai’s blood boil. Nicholas D. Wolfwood. A man that as far as Knives is concerned is like the ten plagues of ancient Egypt and Nai the pharaoh sitting atop his throne. Something about Wolfwood has never sat right in Nai’s gut regarding how the two of them had come to meet, which you’ve heard from Nai often whenever he saw the dark haired man. 

Choosing to change the subject you speak up with a giggle watching another child run by. “Well, what if I want a baby with you?” Glancing at him you can see the cogs in his head turning, almost like it’s a possibility he hadn’t considered. Very much not like the calculating ruthless man he can be. 

“Do you want children with me, Pet?” His voice is controlled as he asks, a single eyebrow raised while he turns to look at your face. 

“I’m not sure” you answer him honestly, because you really don’t know. Not at this point in your life. You tell him the same as you both come to a stop, closer to the main events that seem to be happening in the park. The cool spring air causes you to shiver in your coat, Nai’s hand coming to rest over your fingers. 

“If the time comes, we’ll discuss it then pet. For now, we’ll continue under the pretense we will not be parents.” You find yourself agreeing, but the thoughts do keep swirling around in your head, would you want to have a kid with the brooding man who's stolen your heart? 

Back to series

[jasntodds]

Petrichor [7]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 14,007  

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of scars, mentions of a panic attack, manipulation, canon drug use, comic book science? Titans science? (author's note at the end lol), canon violence, blood, bruises, gore, breaking bones, mentions of nightmares, canon character death (I'm so sorry)

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work.Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: Happy birthday to Jason Todd!! So, sorry I did this for his birthday lmao I lied, this is longer than I thought it would be lol But I'm so sorry. I don't have anything else to say for myself besides canon made me do it and so did the comics lol I hope you guys like it!! If you want context from book 1, let me know and I’ll tell you!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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Over the next couple of weeks, Jason continues to go to therapy as directed by Bruce. To his surprise, it actually seems to be helping a little bit. He’s still having nightmares but they aren’t every night anymore. His hands aren’t shaking as badly either. He just feels a little bit better. Maybe Bruce and you were right about Leslie.

You and Jason are doing better, too. There have been moments where he’s gotten a little too frustrated but he remembers your talk and you give him a little bit of space until he’s ready to talk. It works for the both of you. You go on dates at least once a week and you both actually feel normal during the day. It’s not about being a vigilante and figuring out how to survive.

You go out on patrol three days a week instead of six. This is Jason’s thing and you know it bothers him. You can wait to patrol every night until he gets Robin back. It doesn’t bother you that much. And this way, you get to spend more time together and exist in a normal way that you desperately craved. You are a normal couple for once.

Above all of that, it’s been good. Things have been good. And while that is terrifying, you and Jason stick it out anyway. You don’t run or push. You both want to sometimes because it’s easier but you’re both fucking happy. So, you don’t. You don’t do it because losing each other is worse than anything the other could ever dish out. Running and pushing wouldn’t do either of you any good for the first time in your lives. So, you both enjoy the happiness together. Until things come to a screeching halt.

You're in the living room, having a FaceTime TV marathon with Gar when Bruce comes home. He offers a quick hello before trying to walk off but you call him anyway. He’s home a lot later than he should be since he went to pick up Jason. It was his request you stay back this time.

“Where’s Jason?” You question.

In all fairness, you wouldn’t be asking him normally but you also haven’t heard much from Jason since his therapy session ended. He said Bruce was taking him somewhere so he would be home later. And that was kind of the end of it. He’s been doing quite a bit better so you haven’t been as worried when he doesn’t text you back right away. But now Bruce is here without him.

“In the city.” Bruce answers plainly.

“Why? You went to pick him up?” You raise a brow and something happened. Jason texted you in the car. He was fine and with Bruce.

You look at the time and see that was a few hours ago.

“He’s upset. I’m giving him space. You should, too.” Bruce states.

“What did you do?” You deadpan, pulling up the text thread with Jason.

“I did not do anything.” Bruce defends. “He’ll be home soon.” Bruce states before he walks off.

“Everything okay?” Gar asks.

“Nope.” You shake your head. “I assume they got into some sort of fight again.” You roll your eyes. “Did he text you by chance?” You ask seeing the read receipt from a few hours ago.

Gar checks his phone and the last he heard from Jason was that morning. “No, he hasn’t texted me since this morning. What’s going on?”

You: you okay? Bruce said you’re upset what happened?

“I have no idea. He was fine earlier.” You let out a sigh, looking back at Gar through the tablet screen.

“You said he’s been better, right? Maybe he’s just blowing off steam from Bruce.” Gar suggests. Jason has shared some of the stuff that's happened and has complained a little about Bruce.

“Yeah, but if that’s the case, he usually comes to me to bitch about Bruce because I always agree with him.” You give Gar a grin just as your phone goes off.

Jaybird 🥰: fuck bruce I’m fine don’t worry

You: what happened? Do you want me to come get you?

“Well he texted me back and I was right, fight with Bruce.” You roll your eyes.

They fight sometimes, usually about Robin-related things or Jason wanting to do something reckless and Bruce putting a stop to it. Jason’s usually only a mad an hour or so before he’s fine and over it. Jason doesn’t hold very many grudges.

“Did he say about what?” Gar asks.

“Nope. Just said, fuck Bruce.”

Jaybird 🥰: no just wanna be alone still you and me love you ❤️

You: call or text every so often so I know you’re okay please I love you, too 🥰

“What’d he say?” Gar asks. He worries enough for the both of you/

“He wants to be alone and when Jason wants to be alone that is never good. But we have this thing where I let him be alone and then he tells me about it later. So, I guess I have to wait. If he isn’t home or texting me in a few hours, I’ll go look for him.” You reluctantly put your phone down. Giving Jason space is never easy.

“Think he’ll be alright?” Gar asks with worry in his voice.

“Yeah, him and Bruce fight sometimes. I’m sure it’s nothing too bad, Bruce probably just said something stupid and Jason was already in a mood.” You let out a sigh as the worry feeling gnaws at your stomach.

“Did you want to still—“

“Yeah, yeah, no. We can keep watching. He said he’ll text me.” You offer a soft smile while the two of you continue your show.

It’s not fair. It’s utter bullshit. Jason can’t help the way his blood is boiling and fuming while his hands shake. Bruce doesn’t think he’s good enough to be Robin. Bruce gave up on him. Jason is supposed to be his son and Bruce gave up on him anyway but he never gave up on Dick. If Jason weren’t so weak, this whole thing never would have happened. But he’s gonna prove to Bruce he can be Robin. He can be the best Robin and he can be a better Batman, too. He just needs a little help in the fear department.

He’s desperate. He tells himself this is a one-time thing. Fear creeps in his throat, grasping to be let out in the damp air. It’s a one-time thing, he tells himself. He’s out of options if he wants to be Robin. He’s out of options if he wants to keep the most important thing in his life. All he needs is a quick fix to fear and he’ll be back out there, better than he has ever been. He’ll prove it to Bruce. Bruce is wrong about him.

Bruce thinks he’s a mistake. He thinks Jason isn't worth the trouble just like everyone else. Bruce thinks Jason is weak. He thought Jason could replace Dick and he couldn’t. Not as Robin and not as Bruce’s son. But if he can get rid of his fear, he can show him how wrong he is. He isn’t just another mistake. He isn’t weak and he’s better than Dick. He swears this will be it. It won’t be bad. He can handle this. He swears it’ll all be fine. So, he hangs up on Leslie and heads inside the gates of Arkham Asylum as rain patters around him.

He’s a master manipulator. Jason knows that. It’s one of the things he’s best at. But the desperation for a cure to fear clouds every aspect of that. The desperation doesn’t let him see why Crane wants information for the cure. He can’t see Crane’s angel in his state of paralyzed desperation. And Jason has been manipulated before. He swears he’ll know if Crane is manipulating him because he knows what to look out for this time. But, desperation and the fear of being scared forever, go hand in hand. Fear and desperation cloud everything. He tosses his loyalty from the window as he gets closer to the formula. Crane gives him a piece of it with every piece of information Jason gives him.

“Tell me about the first Robin.” Crane offers this grin that sends a chill down Jason’s spine.

“Like what?” Jason huffs.

“His name, where he is, everything you know.”

“Dick Grayson. He’s in San Francisco and goes by Nightwing.” Jason explains, throwing Dick completely under the bus. He has a problem with Dick now anyway. Dick Grayson has always been the goody two shoes and Bruce’s favorite. Jason only got to be Robin because Dick abandoned Bruce. Jason was a filler. “He’s with the Titans. He got Deathstroke’s son killed and dropped me from a skyscraper.” Jason lets out a scoff.

“Interesting. Doesn’t seem to be the golden boy Bruce portrayed him as.” Crane grins and this is easier than he thought it would be. Jason has no problems rolling, apparently and Crane knows he’s going to use that to his advantage.

He’s broken. He’s desperate and Crane has the cure he wants. This is going to be easy and Crane gets all benefits. Jason lets him take down the Bat but in the best way. Crane is going to get the Bat’s son to turn on him and get rid of him. To break him. And then Dick Grayson and all of Gotham will follow. Crane finds the whole thing a little poetic. He can use him. And Jason will never see through it once he figures out the formula.

“Yep.” Jason answers simply, wanting to get this over with and Crane offers him a piece of the formula.

“The Titans. Who are they?” Crane asks, hiding the malicious intent behind curiosity.

Jason looks up to him and he doesn’t like to throw some of the others under the bus. But Crane is here. He can’t do anything. And most of them thought he was just Dick’s weaker replacement anyway. They gave up, too.

“Rachel Roth, Raven. Hank Hall, Hawk. Dawn Granger, Dove. Kory Anders, Starfire. Conner Kent, Superboy. Gar Logan, Beast Boy.” Jason pauses, waiting to see if Crane knows more.

Of course, he does. He’s in Arkham, not living under a rock. The Bat gains a new sidekick and everyone knows about it. Crane is only taking a guess the new sidekick also was a Titan based on when you showed up and your close proximity with Robin, himself. He saw Jason’s hesitance on his face. The fear.

Crane chuckles softly. “Aren’t you missing someone, pal?” Crane asks, almost a little too warmly. “Could have sworn there was one more.”

Jason grits his teeth and he’s so sorry.

When he came up with this plan, he had a feeling Crane would want information. He came prepared for it. Part of that preparation was leaving you the hell out of it. Not you. Crane can’t know about you. Anyone but you. But he does know. He already knows you're a Titan and he already knows you work for Bruce. Jason has no choice if he wants the formula. And he is so sorry.

Jason says your name with bitterness on his tongue. “Bluejay. She doesn't really like the name thing though.” Jason answers.

Crane has a soft smile. “She’s the new bird. So many of you are birds.” Crane chuckles. “I do find it interesting you would try to leave her out of it. She’s the new edition to Batman. Let me guess,” Crane boasts around his cell. “Your girlfriend.”

Not you. You've done everything you can to save him and help him. He loves you. Not you. Anyone but you.

“No.” Jason answers. “Just friends.” He bites the words because maybe Crane doesn’t know for sure you’re together and he wants you at arm's length.

“If you want the formula, you really shouldn’t lie to me.” Crane has a sinister smile. “You wouldn’t leave her out of it if you were just friends.” Crane lets the words fall with ease.

He’s so fucking sorry.

“Yeah, okay fine. Girlfriend.” Jason spits.

He knows you’ll never forgive him if you find out. You can’t tell Molly anything but he’s here telling Crane everything. You're going to hate him. But he needs a cure. He can’t feel this way forever. He can’t do it. He doesn't think he’ll be able to live like this anymore.

“Ah, young love.” Crane smiles with that shrug of his shoulders. You're going to be an interesting obstacle in this one. He’s already trying to protect you from this. Crane knows he needs to break that bond as fast as he can if he wants this plan to work. “I want to know about her.” There’s this look that crosses Crane’s eyes and Jason almost turns around.

But he doesn’t.

“Why? She’s not with the fucking Titans and she hates Bruce. She works with him because of me. That’s it. She got a suit out of it and a place to stay.”

“I’m a bit of a romantic, myself. Love stories are cute. Always having someone on your side, through thick and thin. It is quite romantic, don’t you think? If we’re going to work together, I want to know why she’s so important to you.” Crane grins. “You can trust me, boy. We want the same things and the way the Bat has treated you…it’s so cruel. But I, I believe in you. That’s why I’m helping you. You trust me, don’t you?”

You're going to kill him. Guilt chews at his limbs. His jaw squares and he thinks swallowing his own teeth would be easier than this. But he has to. Maybe Crane is being sincere. Jason thinks he is. At least enough. Maybe if Jason tells him enough, Crane will see you aren’t a problem. Maybe he’ll see you would side with them. You want Gotham to be better, you don’t agree with Bruce’s ways. Maybe Crane will understand. He’s helping Jason, maybe he can help you. You're scared, too.

“Dick found her.” Jason answers reluctantly. “She joined the Titans. We went after Deathstroke together. Got kidnapped and dropped from the skyscraper. Dick saved her. CADMUS attacked her, Gar, and Conner when I was gone. Dick left them alone when shit hit the fan. CADMUS left her for dead. So, she came back to Gotham.” Jason explains.

“She was there with Deathstroke.” Crane lets out a sigh and like Bruce, in a way, he can always tell when someone could need him. Someone who’s been traumatized. His intentions aren’t as pure as Bruce’s. “But Dick saved her and not you. Did you save her?”

“It wasn’t like that.” Jason shakes his head. “Dick tried to save me first and dropped me. Then he saved her. But yeah,” Jason nods. “I protected her and she did the same shit for me.”

“The two of you went through something so traumatic together. That really must have brought you closer. It’s not as romantic as I was hoping for but it is quite nice.” Crane grins. “She has powers, doesn’t she?”

“Acid generation.” Jason stares, leaving out the combat clairvoyance and the possibility of you having sharp shooting abilities. Two things Crane can’t prove Jason lied about.

“Now that is interesting. Does she know you’re here right now? Asking for my help?”

“No.” Jason shakes his head. “Look, she’s got nothing to with this shit. But, I can get her on our side. The other Titans targeted me for all types of shit I didn’t do and she was the only one on my side. She’s not a fucking problem. I can handle her.”

Crane grins and that’s all he needs. Jason is already hiding something huge from you. The distrust will be there and Jason doesn’t know Crane’s whole plan. If it goes the way he thinks it will, it’ll break your relationship. He will have no one left besides Crane. Exactly how he wants it. So, he decides he’ll let Jason think he believes this whole thing and moves back to the Titans.

“I do hope you’re right.” Crane sighs. “Tell me everything that happened in San Fransisco, with all of the Titans.”

Jason lets out a sigh before he spills every piece of information. He tells him everything from Trigon to Deathstroke to CADMUS. He tells him about the Titans turning on him for something he didn’t do, you talking him off the roof. Dick's confession and Donna’s death. Everything.

Then he tells Crane everything he knows about Bruce. The manor, the Batcave. Everything. He tells Crane about his training and the cabin, how Bruce found him and how Bruce found Dick. He spills and Crane lets him talk. Crane listens a lot but asks questions where he finds needed but he mostly just lets Jason talk as Jason keeps you out of it as much as he can. Jason is far more cooperative when it comes to everyone else.

Crane figures once he figures out the formula, he can get more information on you and use it against him if he needs to. He can’t have anyone if this is going to work and Crane knows exactly how he’ll be able to accomplish it. But for now, it’s about the Titans and Bruce. By the time Jason finishes, he’s got the formula tucked away in his pocket, ready to let fear go.

Jason pulls his phone from his pocket once he’s far enough away from Arkham. He’s spent the walk running over every lie he could tell you. Guilt eats at him with every step he takes. You're gonna kill him. He’s gonna lie to you because he knows for a fact, you’ll freak out. You’ll think he’s gone off the deep end and you’ll tell Dick. You’ll drag him kicking and screaming out of Gotham. You’ll tell Arkham and he won’t be able to see Crane again. It’s not fair and it’s not right. But you can’t know. And a part of him finds that to be unfair, too because he’s gonna fix his fear while you have to suffer with yours. That’s not fair to you. So, he thinks.

Maybe he can figure out a way to bring it up without bringing it up. Maybe he can try to see how you’d feel about a way to get rid of fear. If you seem for it, then he can tell you. He can see if you want to help. But the more he thinks about that, the more he thinks about Crane.

You’d have to be involved with him. Jason doesn’t want you involved with him. Not him. And he knows, the second he tells you about Crane, you’ll lose it. Even if you want a cure-all. You’ll bail the second you hear about Crane. You would never work with a guy like that. So, he has no choice. It’s that or end it and he doesn’t want to do that either.

“Hey.” Jason says as you pick up the phone.

“Jay? Where are you? I’ve been texting you to make sure you were okay.” He can hear your worry and he thinks maybe the anti-fear drug will make him not worry. Maybe you don’t want to worry so much.

“I’m sorry.” Jason clears his throat. “I needed to clear my damn head. I’m fine. Can you come get me, please?”

“Yeah, of course. Where are you?” You answer and Jason can hear you rustling on the other end.

“I’ll text you the address.” Jason states. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” You hang up and get to your feet while Jason texts you the address.

When you reach Jason, he’s soaked. Your heart aches, feeling like it’s being squeezed right through your rib cage at the sight of him. He looks exhausted and lost. He looks distant and he is drenched from the winter rain. Something bad happened and you have no idea how you're going to be able to help.

You take off your helmet, not getting off the bike. “Jay, are you okay?”

Jason gets up from the curb and walks up to you, offering you a fake smile. “Yeah.” His jaw clenches and he doesn’t even want to go home. He doesn’t want to see Bruce. He’d rather be outside in the cold. “All good.”

“What happened?” You reach out but Jason dodges you, reaching for his helmet. A lump grows in your throat. He doesn’t dodge you. Not like that.

“Bruce took Robin away.” Jason’s voice cracks as he shakes his head.

He dodges your stare. He doesn’t want to see the look you’ll give him. On the one hand, he’ll feel guilty. He’ll feel guilty for lying and talking to Crane. And on the other, you’ll give him a look that screams pity and that is the last thing he needs. Jason Todd doesn’t need anyone’s pity.

“What do you mean?” You question.

“Like fucking permanently. He said I can’t be Robin anymore.” Jason lets out a bitter scoff as he feels the anger come back to his bloodstream.

“Jay, I’m so sorry.” You say softly.

You never thought Bruce would take it away like that. Jason has been doing everything Bruce asked him to do. Ever since the Pete Hawkins thing, Jason has backed off entirely. He is putting a real effort into therapy, really trying to let the process help. Why would Bruce rip it away from him?

“Fuck him. I’m gonna fucking show him he’s wrong. He's fucking wrong about me.” Jason grits his teeth.

“He is.” You nod your head. “Come on. Let’s get you home and warm and we can talk more, okay?”

“Whatever.” Jason scoffs, popping his helmet on before he gets on the back and holds onto you while you drive back to the manor.

You get Jason back to the manor and into a warm shower. He says almost nothing. It’s as if he’s completely numb and it breaks you to see him like this. Jason is anything but quiet in a shower with you, usually. And he’s always handsy and cheeky. But, tonight, he’s just quiet, going through the motions, stuck on his own head.

You don’t understand how Bruce could take Robin away like that. It’s not fair. Jason does what Bruce asks him to and he messes up sometimes but that’s normal. How does he not see Robin is the most important thing to him? You even told him that. And he took Robin anyway. He never should have let him be Robin in the first place if this was something that could happen. Dick almost killed someone and he didn’t take Robin from Dick. Jason tries his best. Why isn’t that good enough for Bruce?

Dick was always right about him.

Jason plops onto your bed, his eyes red and puffy. His heart feels like it’s being crushed by cinderblocks. It all hurts. How did he really let another person down? How was he fooled into believing Bruce was different than everyone else? He thinks about his dad. His dad wasn’t a good person but Jason, sometimes, wonders if it was him. Maybe it was his fault his dad was like that. Maybe it was different before him. His dad didn’t choose to be his dad. But Bruce chose it. And still is giving up on him. Jason is Bruce’s son by choice, he thought the choice of picking a son, would make it different. But it’s the same old story Jason hates retelling.

He fucks up and people give up.

“Want me to rub your back while you tell me about it?” You offer as you stand in between his legs, looking down at him.

Jason looks up at you and you always worried so much. He wishes he could be better so you wouldn’t worry about him. He wonders why you choose him. You don’t have to, like Bruce. But you do. He wonders if one day you’ll stop. If his mom and his dad and his uncle and Dick and Bruce all chose other things over him, why wouldn't you? But he looks up at you and you give him this soft smile with your fingertips brushing his knees with care and he thinks you're still different than everyone else.

Jason cracks a soft smile. “Yeah, actually. Thank you.”

“Of course.” You smile softly.

Jason switches to his stomach, facing the TV just as you did the first day you started your friends-with-benefits situation. You sit on top of him and run your hands over his back. Your hands are cold, sending goosebumps up his spine. Your hands are always cold, something he always finds a bit ironic given the acid generation warms your hands. But your fingers are soft as you trace over the scars on his back. You do it every time and he always meant to ask.

“Why do you do that?” Jason asks, his eyes closed with his head on his hands.

“Do what?” You ask as you start rubbing his shoulders.

“Trace the scars.”

“I dunno.” You shake your head and you didn’t realize you did it often enough for him to notice.

You're not even sure why you do it. It’s something mindless. Maybe it’s your subconscious wishing if you trace them enough times, it’ll remove the damage the scars have caused him, like a magic eraser. Or maybe tracing the scars is confirmation he’s real.

Sometimes, you have a hard time believing he’s real. All of this is real. You used to dream of a life outside of the basement, sometimes they’d feel so real you could swear they were. Wishful thinking.

Maybe you trace them as confirmation that the raised and paled skin is real, Jason is here with you and you're not dreaming. Maybe you like the way the scars look on his skin but he managed to pull through all of his terrible shit and make it out the other end with a smart mouth and a heart of gold anyway. Maybe, you just do it because you care about him regardless of the scars and what made them.

“Does it bother you?” You ask softly.

“No.” Jason answers. “Just wondering.”

It always makes him feel vulnerable, a harsh reminder he is not invincible as much as he likes to believe he is sometimes. He might have survived those injuries but they’re there as harsh reminders. And you touch them and he thinks maybe you find comfort in them, because you have them, too. And that’s always enough for him. He thinks it makes him feel human and real and alive. He always feels a little exposed but it’s become comforting with you.

“What happened?”

He thinks he has his lies in order. He knows he might be sabotaging the relationship. Despite everything he thinks as you massage over the scar on his back, he knows. He knows you might not forgive him. There’s always a chance you won’t be so understanding when you inevitably find out because you always figure him out. But it's a risk he has to take.

He can’t keep doing this anymore. He can’t keep not sleeping. He can’t keep shaking and freezing. He can’t keep living like this. He knows he can’t. It’ll destroy him. It’ll be miserable. The idea of going back to being useless and not good enough and a disappointment, he can’t live like that. He needs help now, before Bruce finds his replacement. Maybe you’ll understand that part.

“He fucking said he made mistakes and I guess I’m fucking one of them.” Jason scoffs from under you.

You narrow your eyes thinking Bruce didn’t actually say that. You have no faith in Bruce to communicate worth a shit given your conversation with him and given Jason and Dick. And Bruce might be very good at hiding his emotions, but you know he actually cares about Jason. You don’t think Bruce would ever tell Jason he was a mistake, even if he thought it.

“He said that?” You ask, pausing for a few seconds.

“Basically!” Jason groans. “And he doesn’t want to make more mistakes and he said I can’t be Robin anymore. He thinks I’m a fucking mental case. He doesn’t care it’s important to me. He doesn’t care that I’m doing what he wants me to. It doesn’t matter to him. It’s fucking bullshit.” Jason’s voice shakes as his back tenses under your palms.

“That’s not fair. I don’t know why he would do that. You were always a great Robin.” You say softly.

You wish you could have heard the conversation so you would know better what to say. But, you also know, even if Bruce didn’t say any of that and it came out wrong, it wouldn’t change anything for you to decipher it for him. At the end of the day, Bruce could have outright told Jason he loves him and he doesn’t want him to die and Jason would still be absolutely crushed with Robin being ripped away from him. Bruce’s delivery of the message doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything.

“Just fucking tired of being scared.” Jason lets out a defeated sigh. “Fucking gave up on me. Ya know, thought he was fucking different.” His voice is etched in pain and you wish you could take it all away. He never deserves the pain he gets.

It’s honest. He can be honest with you about that. Maybe he wants you to figure it out.

“Yeah, I get it. Being scared really sucks. You’ll get better though. I know I keep saying it but it takes time, Jay. Bruce should be giving you more time.” You say. “I’m really sorry about him.” You lean down and press a kiss to his shoulder blade. “You still have me, okay?”

He knows. He’ll always have you. Somewhere inside of him, he knows. The anxiety of you freaking out and leaving when you figure it out is there, but he also knows he’s given you every opportunity to take off and run. And you never do. You’d understand his desperation. You'd understand why he lied. He knows he still has you.

“What if there were a cure for fear?” Jason asks and he’s glad you can’t see his face. You’d know.

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow.

“What if there was a cure? Like we can just take it and not be scared anymore.” Jason listens carefully, feeling your hands pause on his back. He knows without looking that you've got your right eyebrow raised at him, your eyes narrowing at him as if you can’t decide if he’s joking or serious.

“I mean that’d be great, but there would be consequences, right?” You question.

You're a little concerned with the question. But, that’d be insane. It’d be insane for him to really look for a cure to fear. You swear he’s just talking, doing one of his hypothetical talks he does like you do about the zombie apocalypse.

“Like what? Being fearless sounds pretty fucking good right about now.” Jason scoffs.

“We’ll, fear is just adrenaline, right? But that fear also keeps you looking both ways before crossing the street, it alerts you when someone is following you home. Without fear, also means you won’t have excitement. You’ll probably be emotionally numb to a lot of things. Not having adrenaline is dangerous though.” You answer.

“Yeah, but isn’t that fucking better than being scared all the damn time? You’re afraid of everything, too and your nightmares are back. You wouldn’t want something to stop it?” Jason looks over his shoulder.

Your nightmares came back a week and a half ago. You and Molly were on a walk and ran into Jerry’s Gotham house. You still don’t know how you missed it, but you did. You were walking and having a good time and you saw the house and that was it. You broke and it’s like all of the progress you made over the last few months evaporated into the atmosphere. Molly had to call Jason because you were having a panic attack and couldn’t snap out of it. The nightmares came back that night.

“Of course, I would.” You shrug.

You think about it and maybe it would be nice. If nothing else, just so you could get some damn proper sleep. So, you both could get some proper sleep. Maybe if you both got some sleep, you’d be better. Maybe Jason makes a good point but then you think about how happy you are when you see him and when a new movie comes out and your marathons with Gar. You wouldn’t want to trade those feelings for being fearless.

“But not if it means getting rid of everything else. Adrenaline also keeps us alive. I’ve been numb and that’s worse than being scared. Why?” You ask. “You trying to find a cure to fear or something?”

“No.” Jason scoffs, letting out a fake laugh and he was really hoping you’d be on his side with this one. “Just fucking saying, wish there were a cure. At least so I can be Robin.”

“Look, it sucks, Jaybird. But I don’t think the answer to being Robin is being fearless. You had to use that fear to survive out there, too. You’re gonna be okay and then you can go out and be your own hero. You don’t have to be Robin. Dick quit and became Nightwing. You don’t need Bruce to help people.” You say. “And I still think you’re plenty good enough. I’m just saying, if Bruce won’t let you, do it yourself when you get better. You’re good enough.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Jason sighs. “Maybe you’re right but he doesn’t believe in me anymore.” Jason says and you know it’s never your approval he’ll need. And that’s okay but you wish sometimes, like tonight, it were enough. “I’m gonna prove him wrong.”

“Good, fuck Bruce.” You smile softly. “Just…give it a little bit, okay? Keep seeing Leslie, too. She’s been helping.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Jason huffs.

“I’m serious, Jason. You do sleep more now. Seeing her is helping, just keep up with it. And then we’ll go out together. Fuck Bruce. We’ll be our own team.” You let out a soft chuckle.

“Thanks.” Jason lets out a sigh.

You make good points but his mind is made up. He’s going to do this. He doesn’t have time to wait around and hope for the best. He isn’t going to Leslie. He’s going to make the anti-fear drug and he won’t be scared anymore. Maybe you're right. Maybe he’ll be numb to everything but he doesn’t care anymore. He is desperate for a cure. He needs it. Maybe he can only use it to be Robin, just to prove himself. It’ll be a quick fix and that’ll be the end of it. Just use it out there and to sleep. You make good points, but he has to do this. And he is so sorry he has to lie about it.

Jason turns from under you so he can face you and you place your hands on his chest. You have a soft smile and he feels so guilty but you’ll understand. You’ll get it when he can function better, it’s just until this whole shit wears off. You’ll get it. If anyone will, it’ll be you.

“Thanks for not giving up on me.” Jason places his hands on your thighs, his thumbs rubbing softly against your bare skin.

“You and me.” You smile softly.

“Yeah.” Jason smiles looking at the necklace hanging from your neck. You haven't taken it off since he gave it to you. “You and me.”

“You okay?” Your voice is filled with love as you ask. No one ever asked like that before.

“Yeah.” Jason answers simply. “Just glad you’re here.”

“You sure? I’m really worried about you.” Your brows knit together. “You know I’ll always be here. No matter what.”

“I’m not gonna walk off a roof, I swear.” Jason’s eyes widen as a grin tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Good. I just know this is bad for you. I just hope you believe me because I believe in you.”

Jason sits up and places his fingers under your chin. “Thanks. Look, I’ll be fucking fine. Trust me. I got a plan.” Jason offers you a grin.

“That’s still mildly unsettling coming from you.” You smile. “What’s the plan?” You widen your eyes as your hands come to his shoulders, a teasing smirk coming to your lips.

“You’ll see.” Jason drops his hand to your waist.

“Oh, you’re not gonna tell me?” You laugh.

“What’s that you always say?” Jason teases. “We don’t always get what we want.” And he says your name, it comes out a little groveled but his voice is teasing.

“Shut up.” You groan.

“Do you trust me?” Jason asks as his hands squeeze your hips softly.

“Of course, I do. You know I do.” You answer.

“Trust me then. I got a plan. I’ll be back out there and proving everyone else wrong.” Jason holds his head with confidence.

You raise a brow at him. “Why do I have a bad feeling about that?” Jason and plans aren’t always a bad combination but he is desperate and hurt right now. You remember the last plan he had when he felt this way.

“Don’t. I got this. Like you said, I’ll be fine.” Jason presses a kiss to your lips.

“Right yeah, you will be.” You let out a sigh and you think it can’t be that bad. He’d tell you. “Okay. You’ll tell me through, right?”

“Of course, you and me.” Jason gives you a wild grin.

He hopes you won’t be mad.

The next day, Jason rents an apartment and sets up to work on making the anti-fear drug. ?You had plans with Molly anyway and that was the perfect excuse for him to get here all by himself to get to work. Plus, Bruce had to go out of town so that's one less person he has to worry about.

He feels guilt gnawing at his stomach like a bad stomach ulcer. But he works anyway. He works through it because this is the only way. And even if he wanted to back out, he already told Crane everything. If he wanted to back out, Crane could use that information against him. But, he doesn’t want to back out anyway, so he pushes the guilt and anxiety away as he puts together a botched drug.

You grow suspicious over the next few days. Jason is making weird and random excuses not to hang out. He’s always trying to get you to hang out more with Molly or for you to head to Excellent Gotham and get to know Tim better. You always need more friends, apparently. Normally, you wouldn’t think too much of it. Or you’d be worried he was distancing himself to leave. But it’s Jason and he’s definitely hiding something, so you follow him one day.

Your phone rings as you hide in the alley beside the building Jason walked into.

“Hello?” You ask.

“Why are you following me?” Jason asks.

He caught onto you following him a few blocks from the apartment he’s been using. He was Robin and a street kid, he knows when someone is following him. And he feels bad about it. For you to follow him, you have to be really worried. He doesn’t track you unless you get kidnapped and you don’t track him on his phone. You don’t follow each other. But you are. And he needs to find a way to assure you.

“I—“ You pause. “I-I’m not following you.” You scoff.

“Yeah, you are.” Jason states as he walks through the opposite end of the alley.

“Why do you think that?” You raise, crossing your arm across your chest.

“I can see you.” Jason answers, pulling the phone away from his ear as you jump, turning around to see Jason.

To be fair, you should have known he'd figure it out. But, you tried to be subtle and keep a far enough distance away from him. You put in a lot of effort. He's just more vigilant than you are, apparently.

“Oh, hey, Jay.” You give him a cheeky smile with a nervous laugh. “Whatcha doing?”

You might be following him. You might be figuring it out a little sooner than he'd personally like. But, he does find it a little cute. And a little amusing you really thought Jason wouldn't figure it out.

“Walking, what’re you doing, babe?” Jason quips, closing the rest of the distance between you.

You sigh in defeat. “Following you.”

Jason lets out a hearty laugh. “No shit. Why?”

“You’ve been…weird, sneaking around. Worried about you.” You groan as you scrunch your nose.

He's really not trying to worry you. He doesn't want you to worry about him anymore. Even if you would be completely against an anti-fear drug, a part of him thinks maybe if he has it, you won't have too many reasons to worry about him anymore. The way Jason sees it, he was always better off with less fear. Maybe the drug helping him, will help you. In a roundabout way.

“You don’t have to worry. I’m just working on something, alright?” He’s giving you that toothy grin that is always trouble.

“Right…that’s not nearly as reassuring as you think it is.” You quip back, the smile falling short.

“It’s a surprise, alright? Don’t worry so much.”

“A surprise?” You raise a brow.

“A surprise.” Jason echoes and it’s not technically a lie. “You said you trust me.”

“I do.” You groan. “I’m sorry. You just never sneak around. It’s weird, even for you.”

You chew the inside of your cheek and maybe you're being paranoid. You've always been a little on the paranoid side, especially since Jerry. And the paranoia decided to come back in full force with the nightmares. Maybe you're just paranoid, more worried about losing him. Things have been good, between you at least, you always get scared when things are good for too long.

Jason puts his hands on your shoulders. “I’m fine, babe. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Promise?” You ask.

“Promise.” Jason nods.

“Fine.” You sigh, taking his arms off of your shoulders and holding his right hand. “Just…whatever you’re up to, be careful.”

“Always.” Jason beams, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you at home, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.” You sigh, kissing him softly.

“Love you.” Jason grins, walking past you.

“I love you, too.” You watch him walk off and you really have a bad feeling about this one. But you can’t follow him and you have no reason not to trust him. So, you let him walk as you head back the way you came.

The next day, Jason gets the formula right. He uses an inhaler to take it and every fear he has ever had, melts away. It works. He did it. He got his cure to fear. So, he heads back to Arkham, high on the drug to confirm to Crane he got it despite the shotty formula.

And Crane already had a plan in motion. He had a feeling Jason would figure it out. So, he set up a plan and it’s time for the plan to go into motion so they can make Gotham theirs. Crane needs Jason to prove it works. What better way than to have him face off with the Joker alone? That’ll surely prove it. But, what Jason doesn’t know, is that Crane knows the downside to life without fear. Of course, he does. He’s the expert in it. Crane already has someone on the outside ready to handle it when this does not go the way Jason thinks it will. But is it perfect for Crane, another thing to hold over Jason’s head to control him.

And Jason doesn’t see the motive. So, Crane tells him to go after the Joker to prove it works and prove to the Bat he can do this. Jason doesn’t need Bruce. He can take care of the Joker all by himself. Jason, lacking all apprehension and self-preservation thanks to the drug, agrees easily. He’s not scared of him.

That next night, Jason convinces you to run out to the store. You were talking about needing some supplies for your scrapbook. You're reluctant at first, but decide to go. It’ll be quick. And Jason gets to work tracking the Joker.

But, with Jason at home, something just does not feel right to you. You make it all the way to the store, hoping the feeling will it go away, but it doesn't. So, you decide to call Molly, maybe Molly can talk you down.

“Hey.” Molly chimes through the phone.

“Hey, you busy?” You ask as you sit on the bike outside of the store.

“No, what’s up?”

You pause. It’s eating at you. Jason was weird as fuck last night when he came home and he’s been weird today. Convincing you to go to the store was weird. Him not coming with is also weird. And you have that feeling in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn’t have left.

“You….uh, I don’t know. I think I’m having a bad feeling so I just…need to talk I think.” You shake your head, the helmet weighing on your head a bit.

“What’s going on? Where’s Jason?” Molly asks.

“Home.” You answer. “I went to the store, he didn’t wanna come.”

“Is everything okay with you guys?”

“Yeah, yeah, all good. Not, uh, not what I wanted to talk about actually.”

“What’s going on?”

“Uh…do you…you know when something bad is gonna happen like really bad and you just….get this feeling? Like…right in the center of your stomach?”

You think you're being paranoid. It only happened once when your mom died. But since Jerry, you're always paranoid and the feeling comes back. Sometimes it’s wrong. Sometimes, it’s just you being paranoid. And you know that’s what this has to be because what could possibly happen to Jason at the manor?

“Yeah.” Molly nods her head because it happened with her mom. She just knew. “You have that feeling?”

“Yeah…I don’t know. Sometimes it's wrong. But it just…I don’t know. Feels bad.” You let out a sigh.

“When did it start?”

“Right before I left. Like, I got on the bike and I just….I don’t know. I think I’m gonna go home.” You shake your head and you can go home. You can always come back tomorrow.

“Are you sure? I mean...what if it’s a coincidence? Two’s a coincidence.” Molly tries to assure you.

“Yeah, I know but….what if it’s not? Can you stay on the phone with me while I get back?” You just can’t do it. It’s not a big deal.

“Yeah, of course.” Molly nods her head and you start the bike, taking off back to the manor. “What do you think it is?” Molly asks, mostly to talk you down.

“I don’t know.” You answer. “Jason’s been acting weird lately. I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It’s not….he’s…something’s off with him and I don’t know why I came. He told me to and maybe I listen to him a little too much sometimes. He said he was fine but I don’t know. I got a real bad feeling.” You groan.

“How far are you from the manor?”

“Like twenty minutes.”

“Well, if something is going on, you’re not that far and you haven’t been gone long. He couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble.” Molly tries to assure you but it doesn’t work.

The more you talk, the more paranoid you get. You know Molly is right. He couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble in the last half hour. But you worry anyway.

“Yeah, hey, can you conference him in? Just…give me some piece of mind before I get back.”

“Yeah, of course.” Molly states as she pulls the phone away from her ear and adds Jason to the call. The two of you listen as the phone rings and rings and rings. And then goes to voicemail.

“Fuck.” You let out a scoff as panic starts to flood your system.

“Maybe he’s--”

“No, he’d answer if it were you while I’m out. Call again.” You state and Molly does as told, getting voicemail again. You shake your head and you pull the throttle back, kicking the bike into third.

“Slow down.” Molly urges. “I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he’s just in the bathroom.” Molly says as she hears the bike rev further.

“He’d answer. I know he would. Double calls. He would because why would you call him twice in a row unless it were important?” You argue.

You're begging for you to be wrong. You hope against everything in your body you're wrong. This one time, you have to be wrong.

“Okay, so what do you think is going on?” Molly asks.

“I don’t know!” You groan. “That’s the problem. I have no idea what’s been going on with him. I followed him a few days ago and he brushed it off. Like it was no big deal but he was sneaking around behind my back. He said he was planning something or some shit. Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.”

“You don’t think he’s like cheating--”

“No! Of course, not. He would never. I….” You bite your tongue because Molly doesn’t know about Robin. “I don’t know what the fuck he’s been doing but now he’s not answering. And I got this feeling. Hold on I’m at a stop light.” You groan, quick-dialing Jason as you watch the red light. The two of you listen as it goes to voicemail. And you try again. Voicemail. “Something’s wrong.” You say as the light turns green and you start weaving between cars.

“Because he’s not answering and you have a feeling? You sound paranoid.”

“I know.” You grit your teeth. “But he’d answer for me. I know he would. Especially calling him twice. He’d answer. I just...remember a few weeks ago when he got his ass kicked?”

“Yeah.” Molly wishes she could forget.

“Okay, so what if he went out on his own to try that guy again or something?” You spit, avoiding details about Robin because you're thinking he’s out Robining alone for some sort of spite against Bruce. He’s still mad. And maybe he froze and it got bad.

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s Jason.” You let out a breath.

You get back to the manor, switching the call to your phone instead of your helmet. You make your way into the manor and call for Jason. The manor is silent. It’s not even like that’s abnormal. Jason isn’t really loud and neither is Bruce. But, the quiet and lack of Jason answering is eery and unsettling.

You search your rooms and living rooms and kitchens. He’s nowhere to be found and your heart sinks further. So, you go to the Batcave. Hoping maybe, he’s just training. Maybe Molly is right. Maybe he’s just busy. Maybe his phone died and he didn’t realize it. That’s possible. It’s Jason. He isn’t the type that’s glued to his phone. Maybe.

But that hope dies as you reach the Batcomputer, seeing Amusement Mile pulled up with the Joker’s location.

No, no, no, no.

“I’m sure he went out and he’ll be--”

“Fuck!” You yell as you look to the display case. The Robin suit is gone.

Molly calls your name and now she’s worried.

“What a fucking---” You cut yourself off as you grit your teeth. “Molly, I gotta go.”

“Molly yells your name, her voice now completely panicked.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I’ll call you. I have to call Bruce.” You rush as you hang up, running over to your own display case holding your suit. You rip the case open and grab the suit as you put Bruce on speaker. “Bruce!?” You yell into the phone as you jump around, getting the suit on as fast as you can.

This can’t be happening. The Joker? Of all fucking people, that’s who he decides he’s going to go after to prove himself? Why the hell would he ever do that? You try your best not to focus on the millions of questions you have for him and the fact you're ready to scream at him for the twenty-four hours. You have to focus because it’s the fucking Joker. He’s taken too much from you.

Bruce can hear the absolute panic in your voice. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Jason! I fucking told you! He went after the fucking Joker!” You scream into the phone as you zip the front of your suit and put the mask over your mouth.

“I told him not to.” Bruce says calmly, but a part of him is panicking.

Bruce doesn’t panic but there is no way you would be calling him and telling him this if it weren’t true. Jason knows better. Why would he go after the Joker? On his own?

“Oh, because Jason is so fucking good at following instructions?!” You run over to the weapons once you're completely suited up.

On the one hand, Bruce could send you after him. That’s at least, two against one. But, it’s the Joker. And Bruce knows he’s more ruthless than anyone. It’s a fun game to him like whack-a-mole. And the prize is always bloodshed. He also knows how you feel and if he sends you, not only could you go out and get killed but you could kill him first. That’s a life on Bruce’s conscious.

“Do not go anywhere. I’m on a flight—“

“No! You don’t get to tell me to fucking sit here and hope for the fucking best. He is everything to me and I am not gonna sit here and let him get fucking killed, Bruce!” You seeth and the Joker should have been killed a long fucking time ago. You swear, if the Joker even lays a single finger on him, you’ll do it her damn self. Bruce is too much of a coward of what he could become if he did it. You don’t care. “The Robin suit is gone, the Joker is gonna fucking kill him and it’s all your fault!” You scream as you gather knives.

“Stay put.” Bruce is stern on the other line. “It will be dangerous and you aren’t prepared--”

“No! Fuck you!” You snip back, gathering as many knives as you can carry. “I’m gonna save him, kill the damn Joker since you’re too damn cowardly to do it and then I’m calling Dick.” You fume on the other end. “I’m gonna beg him if I have to to come and bring us back to San Franciso because fucking clearly, he’s worse off here!” You scream before hanging up the phone and heading towards the exit.

It’s not that he’s scared or even feeling uneasy. His head is clouded with a sense of nothing. Everything is just numb as he cuts the chain into the amusement park.

Jason should be scared and there’s a gnawing at the back of his head that is screaming and howling for him to be scared. To turn around. This is a bad idea. This is bad. There are red flashing lights begging him to turn around but that sense of adrenaline that would normally kick in and give him a little bit of common sense and self-preservation is being suppressed. It doesn’t exist. So, the normally loud and blinding lights that have been causing him so much pain over the last few months, aren’t loud enough. They’re useless.

As he walks further into the amusement park, he finds old and run-down games that grab his attention. This is the Joker’s hideout. It’s known. Of course, the maniac clown would like a closed amusement park. And Jason knows he should be hypervigilant. This is the Joker’s turf and he knows the Joker is here. But the drug keeps suppressing that, too.

He knows he should be more aware and more on guard but the drug gives him a false sense of confidence. He can do this. It’s the Joker. He’s just some crazy clown and if Bruce can take him down several times, Jason can do it. Bruce trained him, right? He knows better though. He should be scared and more aware. but then there’s a noise from behind him and he jumps anyway.

His heart skips before plummeting back into a resting rhythm as he spots a dead man with a creepy smile tugged on display. Jason’s eyes widen and there’s this small, tiny bit of fear that seems to bypass the anti-fear drug like a leaky faucet. And Jason starts to hear and see the red flashing lights in the back of his head in perfect color. But the point is that he isn’t supposed to feel fear at all.

Maybe his formula is a little off. How is he feeling any sense of fear? It’s barely there, barely even noticeable but it’s there enough where if he were in a normal state of mind, that alone would send him into a panic. He’d panic about being worried he’s going to panic. And that thought with the mixing of the drug, makes him miss the creeping steps of the Joker from behind him.

With a quick swing, a crowbar connects to Jason’s head and he’s sent right to the ground.

His head throbs and aches, a horrendous and shooting pain sending his head into a spin as his stomach turns. Blood drips down from his forehead, the warm liquid seeping down his cheek as he looks up to see the menacing and sadistic smile of the Joker looking down at him just as he pulls his arm back for another swing.

This swing connects with his jaw and Jason can hear the bone break. Jason’s mouth pools with blood, the taste of iron already becoming more nauseating. He groans out in agony as the Joker takes another hit to his head, his laugh echoing through the park.

His laugh rings through Jason’s ears with every blow and Jason thinks that laugh can penetrate any type of anti-fear drug. His hearing seems to get worse and worse but that laugh could pierce through solid steel. And he’s not supposed to be scared anymore.

But the Joker hits him again and Jason coughs up blood and fear starts to rush into his veins. Maybe it’s the overwhelming amount of adrenaline making the anti-fear drug wear off a lot sooner than it should. Maybe his formula needs to be tweaked. Maybe the anti-fear drug has a side effect, maybe it doesn’t work when he’s on the brink of death. Jason can’t think straight enough to figure it out. Instead, all he thinks is that he has never been more terrified than he is right now.

SMACK

WHACK

CRACK

Jason’s bones break as Joker takes a break from his face and works on his side and then his arms and legs. He swears this is the worst pain he has ever been in. The Joker hits him over and over and over again, the pain getting worse and worse as tears brim his eyes. He claws at the ground in desperation, a failing attempt to move away. But, the bones are being broken one by one and he can feel the shards with every movement. And he is so fucking sorry.

SMACK

He’s so sorry to Bruce because he should have listened. He should have been a better Robin. He should have listened. He’s so sorry he wasn’t better. He’s so sorry he wasn’t a better son. He tried his absolute best but he could have tried harder. Maybe he could have told Bruce what was going on. Maybe he could have told Bruce more about therapy. Maybe he could have explained anything that ever happened with him. Maybe he could have just tried to be a son. He’s so sorry and all he wants to do is tell Bruce he’s sorry. And thank you.

He wants to thank Bruce for trying. For taking him in. Letting him be his son and letting him be Robin. Bruce, in his weird way, cared about him and loved him. He tried even if he sucked at it sometimes. Jason wants to tell Bruce thank you.

SMACK

Jason screams as the crowbar finally shatters one of his ribs. His breathing is becoming ragged as the Joker takes another swing to Jason’s chest. The Robin suit offers a lot of protection but the Joker is relentless. He’s getting off on every scream and groan and gasp Jason lets out. It’s as if the sight of the blood seeping onto the ground and the backswing of splatter gets him off. He’s having the time of his life beating Jason to death. And Jason has never been more scared.

SMACK

He’s so scared and sorry. He’s so fucking sorry to you and he would give anything to tell you that right now. All he wants to do is call you. He wants to take it all back. He wants to go back home and crawl into your bed with you. He wants to hug you and kiss you and promise he’s doing okay and he’ll be okay. And you’ll be okay. He wants to promise you that it’ll all work out in the end, even if he doesn’t make it. He wants to tell you not to be mad or sad because he doesn’t deserve it. You don’t deserve to dwell on his inevitable death.

You both knew it was going to be him. You liked to fool yourself into thinking maybe it would be you but at the end of the day, you both knew it would always be him. Jason always knew it was gonna be him who died first. And he wants nothing more than to promise you it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. He doesn’t want you to run yourself into the ground over him. But he knows you and he knows as the Joker takes another horrendous and agonizing hit to his skull, you’ll be miserable. This will be it for you. He’s not gonna make it and you're gonna lose your entire mind. You always said you would. And it’s all his fault.

SMACK

CRACK

He wants to shake you and tell you he’s so fucking sorry. He should have just told you what was going on. He should have told you. You would have helped him. You wouldn’t have been mad or yelled at him. Of all people, you would have understood why he went to Crane. You would have gotten it. You always understood him. And he should have told you.

He shouldn’t have lied to you. He’s so fucking sorry. And he’s so sorry for not loving you better, you deserve someone who’s not gonna do this. You deserve someone who’s not gonna get killed and didn’t even stand a damn chance. And he is so sorry he’s going to leave you alone.

He doesn’t think he’s gonna make it.

The Joker's laugh starts to sound further away as he takes another blow to the right side of his face, the crowbar connecting hard and steady against his ear. Then he can’t hear anything from that ear at all as blood starts to drip out. It’s the worst headache of Jason’s life. He can hear his skull cracking under the blows. He feels the blood seeping through his suit and onto the ground. There’s so much blood. He’s lightheaded and dizzy. It’s so hard to breathe.

SMACK

He’s not gonna make it.

And he finds himself, hoping against all odds, that someone will find him soon anyway. Maybe help will come just in time. Bruce is supposed to be the world’s greatest detective. Jason is his son. He’d figure it out. Maybe he already did and he’s actually close. Maybe he lied to Jason and he’s actually in Gotham and on his way. And maybe, you figured it out.

You're smart. You can fight off the Joker enough to get you both to safety. You were trained by Jason, Dick, Bruce. Jason believes you could do it. Maybe you're on your way. You're smart. You know Jason better than anyone. You’ll figure it out. You always figure it out. Maybe help is coming.

SMACK

Everything goes black for just a few seconds and then it’s blurry and shifted. He can’t see out of his right eye. Jason doesn’t know what’s going on as the Joker takes another smack. His laugh is just a reverberation now. The only sound he can even hear is the cracking of bones. Nothing else. And he doesn’t think he can breathe real well. He can’t move his jaw. He can’t even find the strength to try to move anymore. It all hurts and there’s so much blood.

Jason silently begs for the help he doesn’t realize will be too late just as the Joker takes a larger and harder blow to the front of his face.

He doesn’t think he’s gonna be able to hold on.

You drive to the abandoned carnival, coming up on one of the gates. Jason’s bike and helmet are right outside and the chain to the gate has been cut. You know. You know this isn’t good. It’s completely silent and you are terrified.

Silence can’t be good and a part of you hopes that maybe the Joker wants to play with Bruce. Maybe the Joker wants to kill Jason in front of him, to taunt him, that’ll give you some time to have a plan and get you both out of there, maybe. Or Bruce could make it in time to save you both.

But you creep around the grounds, cautiously but quickly. You're paying close attention to your head, making sure you don’t miss it if the throbbing you're certain will start. But, it doesn’t. Instead, you reach an open tunnel with carnival games and there’s someone lying on the ground.

It’s dark and despite you knowing damn well if it were the Joker on the ground, Jason would be over him bragging and cheering for himself, you hope it’s the Joker anyway. You hope against everything that the person laying on the ground is the Joker.

The closer you get though, the more you get the picture of the yellow and black cape.

Jason.

“No…” Your lip quivers as you pause. You're terrified to get any closer. It can’t be Jason. It can’t be. It can’t be. It can’t be. He’s strong and smart. He knows better. “No, no, no, no…” Your voice cracks as you start to walk closer and you can see him now.

There’s blood everywhere. He’s laying in a puddle of red and there’s blood splatter on the ground and the games. A bloody crowbar is tossed to the side and Jason is completely still. Your heart is in your throat as you close the distance, dropping to your knees.

“Jay…” Your voice is a whimpered whisper as you put your hand on his shoulder, pulling him to face you.

His body is completely limp and as he turns, you get the gruesome sight of what the Joker has done.

Jason’s face is mangled and unidentifiable. You can see his teeth through his jaw while there’s blood and bruising around the other side of his face. His face is swollen and paler than usual. There’s blood smeared across his face and on his lips. Some of his hair is wet with blood and sticking to his forehead. And his eyes are closed, not even trying to open.

Your heart shatters in that instant. The weight of the world has been on your shoulders for years and with the sight of his body, the world finally falls. It tumbles around you, breaking into unfixable pieces. The foundation keeping you steady is lifeless and cold and bloody.

Your lip quivers as tears start to trickle down your cheeks. Everything around you feels heavy and cold. The lump in your throat is so big and hard, you swear it’ll suffocate you finally and you’ll finally be out of this misery. The reaper creeps back from the shadow of your head, a smile similar to Joker’s shining back at you and he’s finally won. He won in a way you never thought he would.

Killing the last good parts of you, by killing him.

“Jason…” You whimper, one of your hands hesitantly going to his neck to check for a pulse. Nothing. There’s no pulse, just cold skin under the blood. “No…” You whine, tears now blurring your vision. You lean down, trying to hear him breathe and there’s nothing. He’s completely still. No breathing. Nothing. Just lifeless. “Jay, please, you can’t die.” You let out a sob, pulling Jason’s body into your lap. “I love you. You can’t die. I need you.” Your words are slurred as your nose runs and the cries grow louder.

You sob, rocking back and forth. You knew it would happen. You knew. And you should have known Jason was up to something when he didn’t go with you today. You should have known. He can’t be dead.

You swallow the lump in your throat, moving to rest Jason’s head flat on the ground while you pull out your phone, hands covered in blood. You call Bruce, putting the phone on speaker and then you start CPR. You swear it’ll be useless but you have to try anyway.

You swore every single day that you would never give up on him. And CPR isn’t going to help, but fuck it, you're not going to give up. So, you try anyway. You have to fucking try.

“Did you find him?” Bruce asks as soon as he answers.

Those words get you to let out another cry, your arms shaking as you push down on Jason’s chest. “Bruce!” You scream as your arms tremble.

Everything stops for Bruce. Pain shoots through his heart like a barbed wire arrow. He knows. He knows that cry because he’s let it out himself all those years ago. He’s heard other people. Babs. Dick. He knows and yet, it can’t be true. Not his son.

“What happened?” Bruce shakes his head, using all of his willpower not to let his voice shake.

“What do I do?” You cry, your cries are loud but there’s a weakness in your voice. “He’s not breathing and the Joker beat him with a fucking crowbar! Bruce, what do I do?” You beg Bruce to help. Your voice is slurred and panicked, pleading with all of the energy in you. He’s fucking Batman, he has to help. “What do I do? He’s not breathing. There’s so much blood, Bruce, help, please. You have to save him. Help me save him, please. Bruce, I can’t lose him, I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t.” You keep pumping on Jason’s chest but you swear it’s not working and not just because the Robin suit is so sturdy you're barely getting a compression in. You beg him and beg him, as if your pleas are enough to bring Jason back.

“I’ll send someone, keep doing CPR.” Bruce instructs with a square jaw.

“Bruce, I don’t…..I don’t think it’s helping.” You wail and you can’t breathe. It’s so hard to breathe. “I don’t think…..Bruce….” You let out a cough as your elbows shake and you're losing rhythm of the chest compressions.

“Keep going, don’t stop until they get there. I’m landing soon.” Bruce instructs and he never should have gone. He should have seen it. How the hell did he miss this?

“There’s so much blood…Bruce.”

Barbara Gordon and a few trusted people close to Bruce show up first. They find you still trying to perform CPR. You're slower now, and you're not getting the impact you need to make a difference. Your arms are weak and you're nearly hyperventilating and choking on your own tears.

The paramedics try their best to get you off of him but you scream and yell and cry for them to get off of you. You shove them off of you and you try and try and try. Bruce is still on the phone, telling you to let them do their job but you can’t. You can’t do it. You can’t because then you give up. You can’t give up on him. Not him.

“Hey.” Barabra wheels over a few feet away from you and she gets a look at the damage as her stomach turns and she knows he’s gone. “You need to stop.” Her voice is calm as she tries to keep it together.

“No!” You scream and you feel too weak to deal with any of it. He was your everything. “I can’t.”

The paramedics look at Babraba waiting to be told what to do and they know, too. His face is completely destroyed. He’s unrecognizable. The only reason Barabra even knows it’s Jason is because of the Robin suit. There’s brain matter on the ground. There’s more blood on the ground than there is in his body.

“Bluejay.” Barbara calls again, her voice cracking and this gets you to look at her. Even in the dark, Babara can see the redness of your eyes and the tears shining on the top half of your cheek above your mask. “He’s gone.” Babraba’s eyes go misty and you shake your head.

“No…” You whine and you finally stop but your hands stay on his chest. “No, not…no.” You let out a sob and you can’t even see Barbara anymore, the tears have blurred everything together. “I can’t.” You fall back, one of the paramedics catching you so you don’t hit the pavement too hard. The other paramedic jumps in and to Jason, just to be completely positive.

You shove the paramedic off of you and walk the few feet weakly to Barbara. “I-I…what--” You suck in a harsh breath, your breathing so rapid you feel like you're going to pass out.

“Sit down.” Barbara tries to keep her composure and you collapse with a loud sob, your entire chest feeling like it’s been set on fire with gasoline.

It can’t be him. Why him? He was good. He was a good person and funny and smart and kind. Jason had a heart of gold. Why did it have to be him? It never should have been him. He always deserved so much better. He never deserved this. This isn’t fair. It’s not right and it’s so fucking painful you wish the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“Babs!” You scream. “I-I-I don’t I don’t wanna do it anymore.” Your teeth grit together as your words are wet and slurred.

You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe. It’s hard to breathe and your chest feels like it’s all caving in under the pressure. Maybe putting your heart in a pressure cooker would be less painful than this. Everything fucking hurts.

Barbara rests a hand on your shoulder and she knew Jason was reckless but she didn’t think he’d ever actually get himself killed. He was smart. Smarter than this. You cover your face with your hands, not caring you're covered in Jason’s blood. You just want everything to stop. The pain and the world and time and everything. You want it all to be over.

“I’m so sorry.” Barbara offers and there is nothing she can say that’s going to make this better.

“I can’t.” You spit and push Barabra’s hand off you before getting to your feet.

You push through the pain, running away. Barbara yells after you but you do not care. You make yourself run through the pain and the weakness. If you can do anything, it’s run from it. You want to run as far as your legs will let you. To the bike where you can speed away from it all. Speed so fast the pain goes away. The agony will fade if you run. You can do it. You tell yourself you can as tears fall down your face. You toss the helmet on and hop on the bike, and leave. You've always been good at running. You can run from it.

You're in the bathroom back at the manor, scrubbing the blood off of your hands through tears. Everything is blurry and painful. It’s burning and agonizing and stabbing. It aches and throbs. Breathing is the hardest thing you've ever done. You try to get in a full breath but every time you do, a sob immediately follows and it’s like the wind is knocked out from your lungs all over again. Your head is spinning with a throbbing headache and your eyes are so puffy you can barely open them. But, there’s blood staining your hands, Jason’s blood, and you have to get it off. You have to get it off.

Get it off. Get it off. Get it off.

You grit your teeth so hard that your jaw starts to pulse and you hate it. You hate this so much. You hate it and you want him back. You need him. He is everything to you. He is your everything. He is your best friend and you love him more than you've ever loved anyone. And he’s supposed to take care of you and you're supposed to take care of him. And it’s not fair and it’s senseless and it was brutal and you scream at the top of your lungs before falling to the floor. You lean against the counter, pulling your legs to your chest as you put your hands on your face because you can’t do this anymore

You talked about what life you could have together. And you swear you saw it. For the first time, you were optimistic about a future. Because you had him. He gave you all of this hope for the future because Jason could survive anything. He was supposed to survive anything. He was good at it. Dodging whatever fucked up shit the world was going to throw at him. And now he’s not. He didn’t dodge fast enough. And you were supposed to have an apartment one day together. And make dinner together. And have a dog and a cat because Jason always really liked cats. He’d come home and you’d clean up the blood and he’d do the same for you when patrol got a little messy. You were supposed to have a life together.

You don’t know how you're supposed to get up again after this.

And then Molly walks in.

She’s been crying since Bruce called her and asked her to check on you. He’s worried about what you might do and seeing you on the floor absolutely hysterical, she knows why. Of course, she knew it would be bad. Her best friend just lost the person she loves. Of course, you're going to be a mess but….you're covered in blood and Bruce didn’t tell her what happened. And on top of that, you still have the suit on, minus the mask, which is another surprise Molly did not expect to get today.

Molly says your name with hesitance as she walks in, sitting on the floor in front of you.

You look up, moving your hands. “M-Molly.” You whine, your bottom lip trembling, the hood of your suit barely lets Molly get a glimpse of your face that’s covered in blood as well.

Molly nods. “Bruce called.” Her voice is just above a whisper.

“He….Molly…h-h-he…d-di-died..” You let out a sob as you shake your head and you just want it to be done. You're so fucking tired.

“I know.” Molly lets out a soft cry, sniffling softly.

“H-he’s dead.” Your entire body jerks with another cry as you hang your head. You're so fucking tired. Tired of all of it.

“I know.” Molly closes the distance between you, pulling you into a hug and allowing you to completely break against her. And then Molly starts crying because Jason was her best friend, too. “I’m so sorry.” Molly manages to get out.

“I can’t do it.” Your voice is weak against her.

“Can’t what?” Molly pulls away, her hands still on your shoulders as if trying to stabilize you.

Any of it. You can’t do any of it. You're covered in his blood and it all hurts. You're weak and tired and exhausted. It’s all agonizing and paralyzing and numb. It’s all too much. And you just cannot do any of it anymore.

“Blood and…” Your breathing is labored, your head swaying slightly. And you're so lightheaded and nauseous. “Do this.”

“One thing at a time.” Molly stands up and grabs a wash rag, wetting it with soap and water. Molly can break later. You need help. “Let me see.” You hand your hand to Molly and Molly starts cleaning.

Molly expects to find some sort of wound but she finds nothing. The more she scrubs, the more blood comes off and it’s just your skin under it. And she shakes her head because what the fuck happened to Jason that got you covered in his blood? A part of her almost doesn’t want to know. But, she has to ask anyway. Bruce was a little vague. So, after a few minutes, with your cries becoming quieter, Molly decides to ask.

“C-can I ask you what happened?” Molly is seeing that you're actually one of the suited vigilantes that roam Gotham so she’s guessing something with a bad guy went a little south.

And you don’t care anymore. None of it matters anymore. Jason is dead. It’s not his secret anymore. You're in your suit anyway and Bruce isn’t home. You're all alone anyway.

“Joker beat him to death with a crowbar.” You answer plainly Molly feels her stomach turn.

“What?” Molly’s heart stops in her chest.

You nod as you sniffle, watching Molly clean the remainder of Jason’s blood from your hands. “He was Robin.” Your voice is hoarse as you talk.

Molly pauses, blinking at you and she’s so confused. And this whole thing is growing more and more unsettling. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked.

“He…Jason was Robin?”

You nod again, sniffling. “Yeah.”

“You found him?” Molly asks. Why did you have to find him? Of all people, it just had to be you. Of course, it was you.

“Yeah.” More tears start to fall from your eyes and you can see him every time you blink. That’s going to be your last memory of him and it hurts so fucking bad you want to leave.

“I’m…I’m sorry. Is this all his?” Molly’s voice grows a little panicked. She can’t even imagine the sight you walked in on.

“There was a lot of blood. The head bleeds a lot.” You clear your throat before you sniffle again.

Molly is terrified you're going to start giving her gory details. Not on purpose but because you're too tired to care. The crying is slowing down and that always means you will talk. You stop caring and then you talk. Molly doesn’t want to know and you don’t need to relive the horror verbally.

“Okay, um…okay you stay here. I’m gonna get you some clothes.” Molly stands up quickly.

“C-can you…Jsaon’s room, there’s a…maroon hoodie. It was his favorite.” You look up at her as Molly heads to the doorway.

“Yeah, I’ll be back.” Molly nods quickly.

You let out another cry and you don’t think you’ll be able to survive this one. It’s too heavy. It’s too much. There’s only so much one person can take. And you swear as you shiver on the bathroom door with broken sobs tearing up your throat that Jason Todd was your breaking point. Jason Todd is dead and you swear you’ll never recover.

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series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

A/n: So, this is what Jason looks like in his death scene and he looks scared. Which, is probably a plothole because Titans (or them trying to throw us off since it's episode 1 ?? idk) but I decided I was just gonna use that anyway for fun lol Also fun fact, I was originally not going to include his death scene since we saw it in the show but then I rewatched UTRH and was encouraged by my best friend to make it worse so I did. And I'm really glad I included it lol I'm sorry but I really like how it turned out lol

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss  // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmess // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @stainedstardom // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash  // @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover //  @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000

[ghostoffuturespast]

Works In Progress 2023: A Cyberpunk 2077 Year In Review

I thought for a hot minute about doing one of those snazzy templates that’s been going around, but editing photos just ain’t my MO and rather than going by month I picked 12 favs that I’ve posted in 2023. Some of them were popular, some of them weren't. Overall, I think I did pretty good for just doing vanilla photomode on console.

You might be wondering why there's a picture of a sticky note. I don't remember when I started doing this, and I'm horribly inconsistent as you can see by the dates, but I'll jot down my word count for my wip chapter and then jot it down again when I remember to later.

I write slow. A lot of times I sit down to write and it feels like the wheels are spinning in place. My minutes and hours don't stretch very far, typically don't add up to much. But days, weeks, months. That's when I can at least measure the progress.

Fic: So It Goes 40/44 - 438,946 words

My V x River Ward and tinfoil hat conspiracy theory long fic. I've spent way more hours on this then I have on any of my VP.

I got tagged by @just-a-cybercroissant @therealnightcity and @wanderingaldecaldo to do some WIP Whenevers. I post my VP pretty regularly, so it’s always seemed silly to do work in progress posts for them, and I don’t know when I’ll have any new writing to share since in between work and the holidays, I haven’t had much time to sit down with anything since my last chapter update. And I've been feeling very... stingy, lately. Especially when it comes to mine and other people's writing. So take this WIP/Year In Review as my offering. Both these series, as am I, are all very much still works in progress. 

I confined my reflections for this year below the cut. If you don’t want to read my long-ass essays, you can admire the pictures, maybe check out my fic, or just move along and have yourself a lovely day.

We’ll start with the easy one.

VP

After at least a year of multiple playthroughs (I’ve played all the lifepaths, done all the endings), it only occurred to me at the beginning of this year to start taking VP. Part of the reason I never did before was because I didn’t realize it was a thing and then by the time I did, I figured I didn’t have much to offer. I play on PS5 and only have access to vanilla photomode, so seeing everyone else’s high-fidelity, ultra ray-tracing, modded, posed, full on virtual photo shoot photos, I was like there’s no way. (Not that I’m hating on PC modders, it’s just not everyone has access to mods or a PC capable of running the game, and I’m all for making art and creative endeavors accessible.) On top of that, all I’d ever heard from most other folks was how much vanilla photomode sucked. In the glamorous world of VP, I didn’t think there was any room for me.

But I started snapping pics anyway. And sure, there are a lot of limitations with vanilla photomode. But what that really translates to is opportunities to get creative. I am also a hoe for subverting people’s expectations, and very much believe when there’s a will, there’s a way.

Environmental and landscape shots were my first subjects before I started branching out into portraits and then capturing story moments. Through VP I found an entirely new way to enjoy a game that I’d already played a ridiculous number of times along with also finally being brave enough to share my V with other people too. I’d always worried about that before, if people would like her. Granted, I know Grandpa’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but whether you like her or not, I certainly think she’s made a name for herself over the past few months. Even if most people haven’t really gotten to know her the way I’d hoped. 

I’ve taken hundreds of photos this past year. Most of which I’ll never share. There’s a lot of flops, a lot of weird experiments, ones that didn’t quite turn out the way I’d hoped, but I’ve learned something from every single one of them. I know how to spot good lighting, frame shots to create optical illusions, get a very limited toolkit to work in my favor, parkoured on all of the things, and heck, I even figured out how to make Grandpa smooch other NPCs. I’ve done atmospheric, mundane, down right goofy, as well as things that most people probably thought weren’t fucking possible.

I can’t say how long I’ll keep doing this, I’m sure I’ll move on at some point, but for now I’m still enjoying myself. There's a lot to explore in this game and I just can’t stop digging Night City.

Now, for the more complicated thing.

Writing

So It Goes… My peace, my war, my greedy and most ravenous of ghosts.

I’m operating under the assumption that most people following me here probably haven't read my fic or aren’t all that interested in reading it to begin with. It’s fine. But you need to understand this fic, my writing, is the main thing that brought me here. This is also Grandpa V’s story. Most of you have met her, but unless you've been reading, most of you do not know her.

I wrote around 185,000 words and posted 10 chapters this year. 2022 was about 253,000 words and 30 chapters, along with several unrelated one shots. However, I don’t think I’ve done a single chapter this year that was less then 10k, and my longest managed to hit 27k. As of the last update I posted, the fic is currently sitting at around 439k words, 40 chapters, and still isn’t done.

I have four more chapters to write. I have written a metric shit ton of words. This is, by far, the longest and most intense creative project I’ve ever endeavored to complete.

When I started writing, I was expecting this fic to be around 100-150k. That seemed to be the average for most long fics. I did not plan on being an outlier. I'm not sure you can ever really plan for that, but I guess I enjoy subverting my own expectations too.

For those of you who are reading my fic, it is my sincerest hope that it shatters every expectation of where you think it’s going. It’s not a joke that I tagged my fic “#an ode to my tinfoil hat”. An ode it has turned out to be. I’ve been sitting on this theory for two years. I have told no one about it. I hope it sticks the landing and hits the way I want it to. I don't know if it will. But fuck, I just want to be done with it so I can move on with my life, take a break, and give myself the opportunity to make and focus on other things before I have to get back on the damn horse.

I wrote less this past year then I did in 2022. I had a lot of life changes, most of which were good, but with times of change come times of adjustment. Along with some realizations that maybe you don’t understand as much as you thought you did. Looking back, I’ve been in a state of unsettled, kuzushi, for a really long time. Which is not a good place to be. It’s how your ass ends up on the ground with a knee knocking out all your teeth. I thought I knew better. Thought I had enough practice to get away from it. But bad habits have good memories.

I think given the circumstances, I accomplished a lot with my writing this year. I don’t know if my writing is exactly where I want it to be. I doubt it every will be, but it’s evolved, grown, and I wrote a pretty hefty stack of words considering I started working full-time again, bought a house with my partner, moved, and have been dealing with the millions of other beans that life tends to throw one’s way. That being said, and for full disclosure, I’ve also been dealing with some of the worst cases of jealousy and envy I’ve had since I was a teenager. 

Frankly, it sucks. They walk with me every fucking where I go, hold my hands to whisper back all my doubts. Try to persuade me to my baser instincts, to be cruel and lash out. But that's not aikido. Luckily, I’m not 16 anymore so it’s at least been easier for me to identify the problem. Though I’m still coming up short in terms of actually being able to do anything about it, and will be for at least a few months more. 

Yeah, I keep talking about it because I don’t know how many people know that I've been feeling this way. And I’m tired of not talking about it in a room full of creatives, because yeah, I know I’m not the only one that feels this way. And not talking about it just makes all that pent up resentment worse for everyone.

Don’t get me wrong, I love writing. But with the way I work and think, it’s a slow, tedious, and incredibly time-consuming art. With how much my fic has snowballed over the course of writing, it’s left very little room for the other hobbies in my life. And as my fellow writers probably already know, writing is an incredibly insular craft. And unlike a picture or an image, which only requires a glance, reading a bunch of words requires time and commitment.

So, when you put yourself out there and share what you wrote, it’s a lonely feeling not knowing whether or not anyone connected with what you put on the page. Especially, when the people who do read aren’t compelled to voice anything and when the people you’d hope would read don’t. And then you're stuck in the dark, not knowing, because neither of us says a goddamn thing.

I started writing this fic prior to actually joining the CP2077 fandom. And I joined the fandom because I felt alone. I’ve been here a while now, albeit in a few different places, and that feeling still hasn’t gone away. I’m still trying to find camaraderie with my fellow writers and carve out something that kinda sort of resembles a home or a sense of community. I watch my peers around me as they seem to build that with each other, except me.

I’m envious of the things that people make and jealous of the relationships those have created and fostered between said people, because for the life of me, it’s been a struggle to cultivate that since I got here. I know it’s selfish, but I also don’t know what about me makes people so hesitant. There have been a handful of strangers that have shown up for me regularly, but as far as people I call friends in this fandom that have shown up and actually stuck around, I can only name one right now. (I know we're all busy. And I acknowledge my writing's not for everyone. I know maybe some of you are quiet, or shy, or probably a thousand other things. I get it. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less. People will never know unless you say. Never know unless you take the time to interact or engage. Be brave. And that's true for a lot of things.)

The propensity is for the negative to outweigh the positive. I've got a lot of numbers on my fic, so you would think things would be fine, but at this point they just feel empty. They don't bring me any comfort or real satisfaction. And I hate feeling like the people I know don’t care and that most of you are just talking around me. That I’m some kind of annoyance not fit to interact with. Which may or may not be the case. I don’t know. Again, most of you have never said anything. And maybe I need to accept the fact that most of you never will.

But this is me trying to start conversation.

It’s really shitty, knowing that the thing I want the most is also the thing holding me back. I know how to work on it too, not that it’s any guarantee. The problem is I’m still writing and in a needy state of greed. And because I’m slow, I don’t have the time or the energy to be generous. I can only take right now. I can’t give. 

Relationships require both.

I can’t bring myself to read other people’s writing. I can’t comment, or like, or share if I haven’t read anything. I'm desperate for conversation, but I also don't have the time or assurance to facilitate it with other people right now. And for some reason people never seem to want to talk to me, especially when it comes to writing. I want to be part of conversations, talk deeply with other people. But I can’t speak right now, I'm not in a place to offer generosity without someone first giving it to me.

And generosity and grace is what we all need.

Four more chapters and I hope my ghosts will finally let me read in peace.

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 7 - Bermondsey Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 6 Summary: You reconnect with Neil a couple of days after the night you spent together. The meeting sparks many questions and revelations. In other news: Tenet agents are a nuisance. Neil knows that best. Warnings: Swearing, explicit language, tiny bits of angst because who would I be without it. Author's Notes: It's been 84 years... but it's here! 🎉 And it's 16k apparently. Sorry about that. As you've noticed my brain (and heart) are all over the place but this story is still very much alive. These two are not letting me go, soo... Let's keep going. Thank you to anyone who's waited this long 💕 I really appreciate you. I've got so much planned for them and very excited to share it with you. And, seeing as from next Saturday I'll be in London for a week, there might be even more inspiration ✨ (I'm definitely taking Jubilee Line from St. John's Wood to Canary Wharf. It's all I'm saying) For now - enjoy two idiots being idiots. And a cameo appearances from the Tenet crew because it's high time Cupid met them ;))) Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

Checking the contents of your bag one last time before leaving the flat, you sighed from the oncoming headache already building behind your temple. What a stupid idea it was to hit the snooze button five times instead of being a big girl and getting up at the first sound of your alarm. Now, thanks to your idiocy, you had no time to get that much-needed hit of caffeine if you were to make it for the usual 7:21 train from St. John’s Wood. And you were keen to make it. If only because you promised him.

You were less eager to admit other reasons motivated the rush, going far beyond an agreement that Neil would not hold it against you if you were to break the promise. Reasons such as the inexplicable itch underneath your skin that started sometime last night upon a reminder that you were going to see him today. For the first time since that night. The nightÔ - now officially trademarked, thanks to your idiotic brain. The feeling did not cease even when you tried to remind yourself that there was nothing extraordinary about what transpired then. No actual reason to behave in this irrational way.

Nothing of importance happened. Nothing ground-breaking or life-changing. Just an expected result of weeks of flirting and tension triggered by a bottle of red wine and a natural connection. Just spectacular sex.

If you dared add. A self-satisfied smile stretched over your face at a mere memory, powering you through those final steps before you could leave the apartment and lock the doors, bounding down the steps with no concern over the noise. Fuck the neighbours. Or something like that.

By now, four days later, you were quite good at getting rid of the confusing thoughts the moment they bloomed. Not seeing Neil certainly helped, as did the harrowing afternoons and evenings devoted to the performances. On the stage, you never had the time to think about nonsense such as this, focused on executing the choreography and maintaining that signature, flirtatious Cupid smile that was even rewarded a mention in one of the first ballet reviews. (Truly, a highlight of your unmemorable life if you were to be honest).

The other thing that helped make sense of the mess in your head was Neil’s phone call. It acted as a push in the right direction, a reminder that you had to be the reasonable one. The one to guide him along, highlighting the facts as there were. That the night mattered, in the meaning that it was hardly forgettable. Nothing had to change between you. And most importantly, Neil was the one calling the shots because you were more than happy to continue.

You repeated those truths in the quiet of your head until they felt like certainties. And now, finally, they did. On a cloudy Wednesday morning, you could freely admit you knew what you were doing. The Friday night confusion was just a glitch, an inconsequential event in the grand scheme of things that would bear no impact. Now or ever.

Smiling as you shouldered past the loitering tourists at the entrance to the station, you allowed yourself a nod. Everything was in order. The last piece of the puzzle – Neil’s say in the matter – was the only thing missing.

Despite the wish to remain as detached as possible, you hoped it would be a ‘yes’ rather than the opposite. Even if only because your selfish soul did not want to let him go. Just yet.

The 7:21 train arrived at the platform as you stepped off the escalator and rushed into the middle carriage. By now, your gaze was trained on finding Neil with embarrassing speed, eyes darting over the faces of commuters until they would find what they sought. Today, it took less than ten seconds to locate him, sat in one of the double-seat rows. Neil must have been on the lookout as well, for as soon as your eyes fell on him, you found him staring back. An unshakeable shiver travelled down your spine as Neil’s mouth quirked into a smile. Friendly, yet uncertain. As if he was debating the possibility that you could turn on your heel and leave instead of crossing the space to join him. The idea seemed ridiculous enough that you had to smother a laugh as you fell into the plastic seat with a bright grin ready on your face.

There was no other place you would rather be. Truly.

“Hi,” raising your hand in a pointless wave, you widened the obnoxious grin and allowed yourself another scanning look over his face.

Nothing seemed to be amiss except for the slight weariness in his gaze, as if, for Neil, the few days apart did not eradicate the doubts and worries. As if he was still not sure where you would go from here. Or how he should act around you now. After everything.

You vowed to erase his concerns before you were to part at Southwark. That simply would not do.

“Hey…” Neil murmured the complimentary greeting, his hands flexing in his lap. Before you could decide to reach over and still their nervous twitching, a flash of pain passed through your skull, making you wince. That did not go unnoticed “Are you okay?” the softness of his tone made your heart give out a warning summersault.

With anyone else, you would heed the warning and do everything to get rid of the strange sensation filling your chest. With Neil, you could only swallow past the feeling and offer him a dimmed smile and an honest reply:

“Yeah, it’s just a headache. I didn’t have the time for coffee if I wanted to make it” the grumpiness shone through your voice as you pressed your fingers against the throbbing spot on your temple and sent an inward curse to the gods responsible for the passage of time.

With half the mind to start digging in your bag for the painkiller that was definitely (hopefully) somewhere inside, you did not clock Neil’s movements until he tapped your knee and placed a takeaway coffee cup in your line of vision. Startled, you turned your head to look at him, an unasked question already on your tongue.

“Here, you can finish this” flashing you an easy smile, Neil all but shoved the lukewarm cup into your hand.

Your brain needed additional minutes to process the unforeseen developments as you tightened the hold over the cup and regarded him silently. Only then the shocked, delighted smile made an appearance on your face:

“Good god, I didn’t know we’re at the stage where we’re sharing caffeine sources” the faux gasp was a worthwhile addition, triggering Neil’s laughter.

For a split second, you were content to bask in the glory of it and the knowledge that you were the sole cause. You did this to him.

Still, the sentiment was true. You could barely recall the last time someone was kind enough to buy coffee for you, let alone share theirs. And never on their own accord, leaving you almost lightheaded from the tenderness of the gesture. You stifled the feeling with another exaggerated smile.

“Do you want it or not?” Neil arched his eyebrow, aiming for sternness but failing.

You could see the joy in his eyes, lighting them from within.

“Oh, I do, I do” sending him one last grin, you raised the cup to your mouth and took a long sip. As that first taste of the cappuccino hit your tastebuds, you stifled a pleased groan and relaxed into the seat, “Thank you, kind Sir” tipping an invisible top hat at Neil, you cherished another chuckle dragged out of him and added, “You’ve saved my life” taking another sip, you met Neil’s gaze, seemingly unwavering in its focus on your face.

You watched as his eyes roamed over your features to glance at your mouth and stay there. Stuck perhaps. Without daring to give it second thoughts, you allowed your tongue to dart out and swipe over your lips. Even then, you did not look away from Neil, feeling the electricity crackle and snap between you. Another beat passed before he looked up, startled and caught with the blush dusting his cheeks. It was impossible not to chuckle, breaking the tension by looking away.

Not without effort. And not for long.

“Eternally at your service” you got as far as downing the coffee before Neil spoke again, his quip making you inhale sharply.

Being caught unaware by blatant flirting was new. Unprecedented, yet not unwelcome. And easily redeemed. You turned your head to meet Neil’s unwavering gaze and offered a knowing smirk, matching his expression. Without wasting another second, you leaned in closer, eradicating the gap between you and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“You are, aren’t you?” the question did what you needed it to as Neil leaned back enough to meet your gaze again and quirked the corner of his mouth into a pleased smile.

The awkwardness of those first few minutes seemed to be past you now, overtaken by the easy banter. You settled into the feeling and the comfort it brought without trying to understand why that was the case. It was better that way.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you felt Neil’s gaze back on you. Its weight was not a burden, leisurely caressing the outlines of your body before opening the page for a new question:

“So… How’s work?” you glanced at Neil just in time to see his easy smile, the interest clear in his eyes.

That part of your friendship was something you valued highly because you could not find it anywhere else. With anyone else. Only Neil seemed to care about the mechanics of professional ballet and the trials and tribulations it entailed. Only he seemed curious about your goals and aspirations, always so eager to hype you up despite you never asking for it.

You were sure the soft smile was already present on your face as you offered him a reply:

“It’s good. Got stellar reviews, as I’ve told you, and now the other Cupid is taking over for a couple of days so I can prepare for the auditions for the next one” the mention of what awaited spiked your anxiety, even if only by a fraction.

Because the prospect was terrifying. Even with the hours of prep and previous season’s experience, you could not ignore the fears. There was no certainty you were good enough to get another breaking role. There was no confidence in that matter either if you had to search your heart and soul. There was only fear nagging at the edges of your conscience with increasing urgency.

You knew it would only get worse in the span of half a week that was left.

“The Nutcracker?” Neil’s complimentary question kept you anchored in the present.

It also proved that he listened to all the bullshit you spewed every time you met. And that, much like shared coffee and the desire to get to know you, was worth more than you could express. More than you dared contemplate if you wanted to maintain the relatively unbothered mood and the illusion of nonchalance.  

“Yeah. I’ll prepare a couple of variations and hope for the best” only when you felt Neil’s hand cover yours did you become aware of your fidgeting, of the restless fingers picking at the hangnails. The comforting weight of his palm stilted the movement and offered bravery you did not realise you needed to speak the thoughts into existence, “I could show you what I’ve got in a couple of days,” the wavering notes of your voice made you cringe, instantly removing any pretence of cool you wished you could maintain. If only because you cared. Too much “If you-” the end of that rambled disclaimer was cut short.

Thank god.

“I’d like that” Neil squeezed your hands and sent you a reassuring smile, somehow already knowing what it was that you needed, “Seems like I’m already experiencing the withdrawal symptoms” the candid tone did nothing to help you ignore his wink or minimise the impact of the statement.

You blinked twice as your brain absorbed and processed the words. Only then you turned towards Neil with a deadpan expression and asked:

“… from my unremarkable dancing?” measuring him up silently, you took passive note of the station you had just arrived at.

There was still time. Time to offer Neil space to take back what he just bestowed on you. For him to deny the praise hidden in the corners of his affectionate smile and within the light in his eyes. But he did not seem eager to backtrack on the words you did not think you deserved.

“From your incredible dancing, Cupid,” signing off the accolade with another one of his charming smiles, he lifted your hand to his lips and turned it to press a fleeting kiss to the inside of your wrist.

Over the pulse point. A gasp was inevitable as you closed your eyes and let the sensation burn through your body and soul. Just as Neil intended. It was fleeting, yet the impact felt almost permanent. Impossible to shake off.

You did your best, opening your eyes to see his pleased smirk and ignoring it entirely to huff in pretend annoyance:

“Christ, you’re such a charmer” an eye roll thrown into the mix completed the act as Neil let go of your hand and let it drop back to your lap.

The sensation persisted, making your skin tingle. Unconsciously, your thumb rubbed over the exact spot he kissed. It did nothing to eradicate the sensitivity.

“You like it, though” mindless of your turmoil, Neil bumped his shoulder into yours, the dangerous grin blooming on his beautiful face.

It took you one look to know you were foolish to think one night with him could have been enough. Stupid to believe Neil was someone you could let slip through your fingers after getting to have him. Now, with the decision entirely up to him, you could only wait, taking what was freely offered. With that reminder, it was easy to forgo the remains of pretence. Even if just this once. Once more.

“You’re right” the only sign that he was not expecting your straightforward answer was how his eyes widened, roaming over your face with renewed intensity. By now, you knew there was no point in trying to decipher his looks, so you simply stared back. Unwavering and confident in what you wanted him to know, “I like you,” noting the slight hitch in his breath, you added, “Neil,” emphasizing his name the way you did on Friday night, you met his increasingly alarmed gaze and offered a smile. A wordless reassurance that he need not fret that you have gone insane. Not yet, anyway. Before the charged moment could evolve into something you could not control, you swallowed hard and asked the only question that required no thinking or clarity of mind, “How’s the parish?”

The manic grin, signing off the not-subtle change of topic, was a touch too much. Admittedly. It slid off your face as quickly as it appeared and was buried in the hard stare you directed at the dirty floor of the carriage.

But not for long.

“Great, many… devotees and all” the joy in Neil’s voice alone was not enough to make you look up.

But it was enough to make you crack a tentative smile, relieved that the joke still had not gone stale. You quite enjoyed it. For whatever reason.

Following the hopeful thought, you raised your head again to meet his gaze. On the periphery of your attention, you noticed the fact that Neil had never looked away, but you filed the knowledge for future use (that would likely never come) and instead offered him a cheeky look:

“All that jazz?” framing your face with infamous jazz hands, you waited with bated breath for the quip to land.

It did with an uproar of laughter and Neil’s striking eyes gazing at you with something you could not decipher if you tried. Wordlessly, you offered him something similar, an affectionate look that spoke words you never could force your tongue to form. It spoke of comfort. Of being understood like never before. The gratitude in Neil’s face was worth the risk.

“Jazz and hymnals,” offering you another manic grin, he broke the eye contact to glance at the floor. Before you could begin to think of something to say, Neil swallowed hard and spoke again, “Actually, I wanted to ask if you wanted to join me and some of my work friends in a pub on Friday?” the only sign that he was nervous was the slight tremble in his voice, followed with close to no time given for your answer, before Neil dived into another winded explanation, “It’s just a hangout, but ever since I dared mention that I met a ballerina, they won’t stop pestering me about you” a nervous chuckle tore from his parted mouth, making you look up and study him closely. That strange shyness seemed to be back, as always out of place on such a beautiful face. It bloomed along the sharp lines of his cheekbones and in how he picked at the chapped skin of his bottom lip with his teeth. Without thinking, you covered his fidgeting hands with yours. A gentle squeeze was all the confirmation you needed to know it was a good call, “So I want to introduce you” his earnest eyes met yours, but before you could even think about the answer, Neil added, “As my friend” he nodded, once and curtly as if convincing himself of what he just said and he fell silent.

The resulting pause was almost hard to absorb. It rang in your ears like an explosion. That was not something you expected to hear. Probably never. Not from Neil. Admittedly, the concept of him talking about you with someone else seemed foreign enough to be nonsense. Not probable.

And yet. You did not have to search your heart to know what the answer was supposed to be.

Aware of the few different ways you could approach it, you chose to fall back on what came naturally. Unlike honesty and vulnerability.

“As long as no one asks me to get on my knees and pray, I’m in” shooting Neil a smirk that felt a tad too much, you waited for his startled gaze to meet yours and winked, dropping your voice a notch to share what was meant for his ears only “And yes, I would get on my knees for other reasons” there was nothing to add there.

And nothing to take back either. No regrets as you stared at Neil, patiently awaiting a response. All the while, your fingers kept the loose hold over his hand, brushing over his knuckles in repetitive moves to soothe the both of you. Even if you would never admit as much.

You watched as the shock in his eyes gave way to begrudged acceptance, disappointed yet not surprised by your constant desire to be a nuisance. It was almost flattering. It made your blood sing with a spark of something you were keen to assign to pure exhilaration. And arousal, too.

“I didn’t ask” after what felt like ages of silence, Neil swallowed hard and made an effort to look away from you, feigning disinterest.

Still, his fingers squeezed yours, betraying the act. Smiling, you squeezed back and disentangled your hand from his as you took note of the approaching station. It was funny (and fucking annoying) how fast time seemed to pass when one wanted to cherish every second.

“But you wanted to,” shrugging upon Neil’s arched eyebrow and an indignant noise of protest that was never going anywhere, you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek fleetingly and got up from the seat “Give me time and place, and I’ll be there” smiling in the face of his utter bewilderment, you added, “On my best behaviour” a glance out the window showed you the tiled wall of the Southwark station, and signalled that it was high time to move.

Unfortunately.

“Like right now?” the humour in Neil’s voice was a reason to look back at him, taking note of the delight you could see on his face.

It proved all you already knew. He enjoyed it. All of it. Your insanity included. The understanding was enough to make you grin like a mad woman and nod:

“Yes, exactly,” the carriage drew to a slow stop, and people rushed from their seats as you gripped the railing and met Neil’s gaze for another prolonged moment.

“Perfect,” mirroring your smile, Neil’s mouth twisted into another trademark smirk.

The doors slid open with the PA message talking of gaps and stations. You raised your hand in a brief wave as you let the tide of commuters lead you onto the platform and away from Neil.

Not bad for a first meeting. Right?

***

In hindsight, which was a gift many possessed, but Neil decidedly did not, it was probably expected, that his friends would take every opportune moment to ask about Cupid. Even when taking a short break in the common room. Even when he was halfway through the second espresso of the day (and a third cup of coffee, because whoever needed sanity, anyway?). Even when it was the last thing he expected. Or, perhaps, especially then.

“How’s your ballerina, mate?” the question arrived exactly when Neil had his mouth full of coffee and was too busy staring at his phone to realise he was targeted with another of Ives’ laser stares.

A coughing fit, brought forward by the ever so graceful tendency to choke on drinks whenever cornered, was the only answer Neil was capable of for the first ten seconds. Glaring at Ives with what he hoped was enough murderous intent to make the soldier reflect on his actions, he put the cup on the coffee table in front and glanced at the remaining person in the room. Just to anticipate further assault, should it follow. Naturally.

Wheeler seemed unbothered, sipping her daily green tea and scrolling on the phone. But by now, Neil knew better than to ignore her existence. With one final warning look in her direction, he turned back to Ives. Just in time to see an infuriating grin spread over the man’s face, begging to be wiped with a punch. Ignoring the urge to do just that, Neil offered a reply:

“She’s… good. Great” the words felt flat, not measuring up to everything Cupid was.

But it was also the only admiration Neil was willing to impart to them. Those words were safe, not betraying the exact depths of his affection. He might not be embarrassed about how much he valued Cupid and every little thing about her, but he was certainly not eager to get into another conversation that would lead nowhere. The teasing was awful, as it was already.

“Of course she is,” Ives’ repartee muttered loudly enough to be heard by Neil from the other side of the room was accompanied by another of his annoying smirks.

Was Neil a better, smarter person, he probably would have ignored it. But he was neither better nor smarter. The spark of exasperation has been lit, burning through his chest with increased ferocity. But, sadly, no matter how frustrated Neil felt, he knew that none of it warranted physical violence. Yet, that is.

So, leaning back on the sofa to at least maintain physical comfort, since the mental one was not available, Neil chose to channel the ire into words.

“Your point?” arching his eyebrow, he focused his gaze on the current enemy of the state, awaiting an answer. When nothing followed except for Ives’ nonchalant shrug and Wheeler’s scoff in the background, he continued, “Never mind, I don’t care” he knew he sounded like a petulant child throwing a tantrum, but there was hardly anything to do but push onwards, choosing this moment to drop the news his ‘friends’ (way too generous term) surely would be interested in “I invited her to the pub, by the way,” Neil could feel the grin making its place on his face, erasing any pretence of indifference “Tomorrow” even the reminder alone was enough to spark the excitement.

Alongside it, he could feel the inklings of anxiety bloom to life. If only because he had no idea how Cupid would react to the antics of his friends. Or whether his dear crew was even capable of surviving her. He pushed past the worrying thoughts for the time being by reaching out for the cookies on the table. The sweetness of chocolate chips melted on his tongue, eradicating the fears. For now.

“Why?” this time, Ives’ question was stripped of all remaining nonchalance and certainty.

He was not expecting that. Neil’s mouth twisted into a smirk, revelling in satisfaction. He met the man’s surprised stare with confidence, taking in the uncertainty coming to life underneath that cocksure act his friend liked to maintain. Well, no more.

One glance at Wheeler confirmed the upper hand he has seemingly achieved, making Neil push forward:

“Because maybe once you meet her, you’ll stop being so annoying about this,” the steel edge in his tone was not something he could explain.

Except that he suddenly felt the need to defend the relationship with the woman in question against all forms of offence. Even imaginary.

“No chance, sweetheart” it seemed that Ives did not need as much time as Neil hoped to recover.

The grin was back on his face, accompanied by a wink. Outrageous. Ignoring the sudden urge to hiss like a furious cat, Neil rolled his eyes and dropped his gaze to the table.

Despite her suspicious silence, he could feel Wheeler’s eyes boring holes into his head from her perch in the corner of the room. That was a ticking bomb, awaiting her moment in the chaos to blow up. Or, less dramatically put, waiting for her time to shine and ask a question Neil knew he would not be able to answer. It hung over his head like the guillotine’s blade.

“Yeah, I worried as much,” punctuating the annoyance with a huff, he raised his head with renewed determination. It fueled the words he needed to be spoken, “Still, Cupid is delightful, so you’ll sure like her” it was as much a certainty as it was a plea.

A hopeful thought. A dose of wishful thinking, indeed.

Somewhere at the back of his head, Neil became aware of the many different words to describe her whirling around his brain, thousands of synonyms and endearments scratching at his consciousness. As if desperate to be heard. To make a point. But there was no point to make here. Cupid was a delight. She was also the most beautiful woman he had ever met. She was someone he could not have. But that was alright. It really was.

“I’ve no doubts about that” Wheeler’s voice broke the silence, startling Neil. He turned his head sharply to face her, noticing the quiet confidence visible in her sharp green gaze. Still, he appreciated the vote of trust, “Did you kiss?” the question exploded with the force of an atomic bomb.

As he should have expected. The nonchalance in her face told Neil he fucked up, ignored the signs, and now he has been left gaping at his two tormentors with no way out of the interrogation. Well, he could have just got up and left. But Neil was also pretty sure he would be cornered in the lift next. Or on the stairs. Or wherever else it was possible to torture him. Sighing heavily, Neil sagged onto the sofa and covered his face with his hands. A deep breath or two were in order. Perhaps he was overreacting. The dramatic tendencies yet again won with any sense of logic or stoicism. As always.

Fuck it. Heaving another weary sigh, Neil raised his head to stare at the wall as he stammered:

“I- We-” finally, he summoned enough courage to say what needed to be said, “Yeah… we did” with the speed of his thoughts at the minute, it was no surprise that the brain did not get the memo to stop fucking talking. No surprise at all to hear himself add another tidbit of information, almost without his conscious decision to do so, “We also had sex” as soon as the words left this mouth, Neil groaned, barely resisting the urge to get up and flee the scene with burning cheeks and mortification capable of killing him on the spot.

The fact that this sometimes happened – saying things before he was even aware he was doing it – was embarrassing enough. Especially now. The silence in the room upon his ill-timed admission felt thick enough to be cut with a knife. Even a butter knife. Unwilling to see the exact reactions on the faces of his companions, Neil trained his gaze on the floor, feeling the blood rush in his ears, the pulse pounding with worrying speed. He could feel their stares, boring holes in his head and trying to peer inside.

“You- what?” in the few years of knowing Ives, Neil was sure he had never heard the man quite so flabbergasted.

If it were not so surprising he would almost find the reaction offensive. Because why was it so unexpected? He tried not to ponder the answers to that question.

“Last Friday, after the ballet,” throwing the background information with as much indifference as possible, Neil slowly raised his head.

He was met with a wide-eyed stare from Ives’, his bright blue eyes seemingly stuck in a constant state of shock. Yeah, that was that when it came to not being offended. Exasperation rose in his chest, tempting Neil to do something very stupid. But before he could utter another word, Wheeler’s question filled the silence:

“So, you’re together now?” contrasting her trusted partner in crime, the brown-haired woman appeared disturbingly calm.

She put down the cup of tea with a measured move and rested her hip against the cupboards, unnervingly staring at Neil.

There was no need. He seemed unable to keep quiet anyway.

“No, of course not. I’ve told you that she doesn’t do relationships. It’s just sex” this was an answer long prepared, something he could recite from the heart. Why that was, Neil dared not think. Instead, he shrugged, for the umpteenth time within the past ten minutes, wishing to exit the conversation and escape to the North Pole. Or someplace like that. Polar bears were sure much better company to the two idiots he was paired off with presently, “Why are you staring at me like that, Ives?” he could hear the edge in his voice, the sharpness of vowels revealing the depths of annoyance.

The last thing Neil needed was someone sowing doubts about what was unchangeable. Not now when he finally began to feel settled again, for the first time since that fateful Friday night. Now, when he was so close to giving Cupid the answer. Now, when he almost felt like he knew what he wanted to do about it.

Not now.

“Because I think you’ve gone insane” there was no dose of mercy or understanding in Ives’ reply; the man focused his blue-eyed gaze on Neil without respite, clearly driven to say his part. For better or for worse, “You don’t do casual sex. With anyone” before Neil could offer an interjection at what was clearly not true, the man continued. Somehow filled with more passion and conviction, “Christ, I’m pretty sure you turned down at least three girls for that very reason last year. You’re a romantic, Neil” the sign-off proved to be the last straw.

Neil rolled his eyes against the allegation and stood up, fire blazing in his gaze. For whatever reason, he did not know. Except that something in the impertinent tirade of his friend irked him beyond compare.

Yes, maybe what Ives said was true. Maybe he turned down offers for casual sex before. But that did not mean a thing. Because all those other women were not her. They were not worth changing his ideals for what could also prove to be an unsatisfactory result. Only she seemed worth the risk.

And yes, Neil was aware of how pathetic that sounded. He shook his head against the ridiculous thoughts and paced the room before finding apt words to defend his choices. Not that he had to defend anything, of course. Still-

“No, I’m not�� if that was a stretch, no one had to be any wiser. Just in case, however, Neil trained his gaze on the floor instead of looking at his companions, “Just because I’ve never done it before doesn’t mean I can’t now” there, that sounded perfectly composed and reasonable “It’s fine. I like her, and we’ve got a good thing going” finishing the speech with the only sentiment he was moderately sure of, Neil risked a glance at his friends.

Ives still looked infuriatingly impassioned, as if barely holding himself back from making more incorrect assumptions, but it was Wheeler’s expression that made Neil falter. His restless eyes finally found purchase for more than a second at a time. If only so he could understand what that introspective look in her eyes meant. And what potential trouble could it bring.

“If you say so,” Ives’ dejected reply almost went unnoticed, falling under the radar as the man sighed heavily, as it was him who was being violently verbally attacked.

The audacity was something else.

“We’re just worried about you. We’d rather avoid a repeat of the last time someone broke your heart” Wheeler’s voice was laced with concern as she breached the space and placed her hand on Neil’s shoulder with a stoic yet meaningful look in her eyes.

The tight smile completed the picture as she squeezed his shoulder and left as quickly as she had approached him. Still, the gesture lingered, making Neil falter. Because he knew what Wheeler meant. He knew it too well. Sometimes during those darkest moments, he could still remember how it felt. The searing pain in his chest and the inescapable knowledge that he was not enough. That he never would be. That the heartbreak would follow him wherever he went because there was no universe in which Neil was destined for a happily ever after.

Sometimes, it was easy to believe that, too.

Most of the time, however, he ignored those thoughts. Like now, when that first sting of tears at the back of his eyelids spelt trouble and unwanted attention. When he could feel the tightness in his throat threaten to trigger something no one wanted to see in public. Not now. Not ever.

Instead, Neil plastered on another obnoxious grin. The blinding strength of it was almost enough to get rid of the residual feelings.

“Well, worry not! It won’t happen” to reinforce the intended effects, Neil notched up the cockiness in his smirk and flopped back onto the sofa with all the air of someone certain they were making correct decisions.

Or, at least, that was the hope. That no one would see past his act despite the edges of the mask slipping with every second.

Taking a fortifying breath, Neil swallowed hard and settled against the cushions, hoping the softness would anchor him. A glance at the watch confirmed his hopes – not much time was left till he had somewhere to be. A handy excuse to leave faintly appeared on the horizon, teasing him with potential and salvation. Only, it still had to wait…

As soon as the faint hope glimmered, making Neil feel a tiny bit better about his current situation, Ives broke the silence. The only way he knew how:

“So… how was the sex?” Neil’s head swivelled in the direction of the man at breakneck speed, a blush already blooming on his cheeks.

It was mortifying how little it took to reduce him to a blushing fool these days. How one mention of Cupid, or the moment they shared, was enough to render him incapable of acting like a grown-up. How there was nothing to do about it but groan out loud and cover his face with his hands, hoping to escape the scrutiny. While knowing it was too late, anyway.

Before he could find an apt response (or any words at all, in fact), Wheeler interrupted the silence with her frustrated sigh, annoyance tinting the words:

“Ives, for fuck’s sake…” even without looking at her friend, Neil knew she was rolling her eyes, equally fed up with Ives’ antics.

Not for the first time, he felt gratitude for her existence and the constant intolerance of bullshit. Neil hoped to convey as much through a quick smile, shot in her direction sometime between staring at the floor and pondering the best course of action. She smiled back, briefly dropping the disinterested frown that seemed at home on her face whenever friendship dramatics unfolded. Which was more often than Neil would like to admit.

Apparently, a penchant for drama was a contagious trait. Sadly.

“What? I gotta ask the important questions” the lack of remorse on Ives’ face told Neil all he needed to know about the situation.

There was either option a – leaving the room as he stood, without a further word or a gesture, aware that he would be cornered by his dear friend shortly. There was also option b – answering the question in the vaguest way possible and hopefully buying himself time and necessary peace.

Was it really a choice? Sighing heavily, Neil strengthened his back and met the awaiting blue gaze with what he hoped to be confidence.

“Very good. Might I say euphorically good,” he could feel the smirk make home on his face as memories followed the words, offering a gratifying reel of moments he was sure he could never forget. It never failed to make him grin like an idiot and consider doing something reckless like calling Cupid and asking her out. As a friend, that is. A friend you wanted to have sex with again. Instead, he allowed himself to soften the voice and add, “She’s… incredible” it was a severe understatement, but then the present company was not worth hearing peans he could bestow upon her.

Those words were meant for her ears only. And yes, he knew how it sounded. How it pointed towards things Neil was not admitting, not even to himself. But that, too, was best ignored. Forever.

Before Neil could find the necessary words to follow the admission and, hopefully, exit the conversation altogether, the door creaked. All three pairs of eyes snapped towards it, displaying different stages of shock and bewilderment.

Neil watched as The Protagonist stepped inside, the dynamic of his movements stopping on the threshold as the man took in the scene presented before him. Cocking an eyebrow in a silent question, the older man closed the door behind his back and regarded them coolly.

“Uh oh,” the phrase, offered casually, without a dose of interest or intrigue, was accompanied by another taxing look.

Worryingly, it was focused on Neil only. The dark eyes of his best friend (and boss) scanned him from head to toe, undoubtedly clocking everything he hoped to conceal. Stifling the sudden urge to drown himself in the cup of lukewarm coffee someone abandoned on the table hours before, Neil sagged on the sofa. That was not going to be fun.

“Uh oh, indeed” even without looking at him, Neil could tell Ives was smirking.

Feeling the three pairs of eyes focus on him again, he groaned.

He was completely and utterly fucked, it seemed.

***

Usually, Friday evenings in the pub were not associated with anxious thoughts or fidgeting hands, interchangeably tugging and relaxing the chain clasped around your neck. But that was not a usual Friday night, and no amount of mental coaching could change that fact or convince you to stop worrying. No, the nerves seemed ingrained in the fabric of your soul as you exited the Leicester Square station and rushed through the streets of Chinatown, rapidly filling with people. You swallowed past the overwhelming onslaught of worries and pushed onwards, only briefly stopping underneath the red lanterns to double-check the location and whether you were still on the course.

When Neil sent you the address earlier that day, you admitted that the choice of locale was greatly appreciated. That was your hunting ground so to speak. The streets, where you felt most at home, with the bright lights proceeding your steps and the bustle of the city filling your heart. But even the comfort of the familiar environment did not eradicate the fears. The millions of what-ifs swirling around in your head all pointing out that one crucial fact – there was no guarantee that his friends would like you. None at all.

And the alternative was too terrifying to consider. Admittedly, this was not a place you visited often. Not a predicament you knew too well. Because, usually, you could not care less. Did not give a flying fuck about whether someone liked you or even accepted you because if they did not – well, their loss. But those life rules did not seem applicable this time. Not when the stakes suddenly seemed higher than gaining a stranger’s sympathy. Even though you could hardly explain what the alternatives were and why they scared you quite so much.

Glancing up from the phone screen, you double-checked the pub name with the address typed into the search bar and closed the app. Pocketing the device, you crossed the street and stopped just before the doorway. The bar was half-full, the music not quite booming yet filling the interior with cosiness and warmth that beckoned you inside, sparking the courage that began to flicker in your heart. As if sensing your moment of indecision, your phone buzzed. A single text from Neil appeared on the screen:

/✝️, 8:03 pm/ I’m here if you’re early.

Despite the nerves, you grinned. A ridiculous giggle escaped your throat as you pushed the door and entered the pub. That was a sign if you ever saw one. The contrasting warmth seeped into your bones as you unzipped the jacket and manoeuvred around the tables to the room in the back. This part of the bar was empty, save for a larger table in the corner. As soon as you entered the space, Neil raised his head and met your gaze with a bright smile. It was impossible not to grin back, taking in the warm light reflecting in his golden hair and the undone top buttons of his navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Even now, after everything, the sight never failed to make your pulse quicken, revealing the truth you could not ignore. That you wanted him. Still.

Probably more so now that you knew what it was like to have him.

That reminder alone was a reason to push all thoughts to the back of your mind and close the remaining gap in three steps. Shooting him an overly confident grin as a greeting, you drew back the chair opposite Neil’s and took off your jacket, draping the covering over the backrest and sitting down without as much as a word. If Neil noticed the unusual silence, he did not show it, instead following your every move with curiosity in his eyes. Once you were settled and allowed yourself to rest your gaze on him, Neil’s smile softened into something fragile. Something kinder than you were used to. You basked in the warmth of his expression as he broke the silence:

“I’m glad you came” that same affection tinted the simple sentiment, quieting the nerves in your head, even if only for a second.

For whatever reason, the fears seemed worth it if that was the reaction you earned by going through the pains of what was coming. It was shining in the blue of his eyes, luring you in like a spell. Without thinking about it, you darted a hand forward and quickly patted his hands, folded atop the table. The corner of his mouth twitched, clearly noticing your gesture. It was a nice feeling to be seen like that, appreciated for every tiny thing you did or said.

“Well, I promised, didn’t I?” the awkwardness slipped out alongside a weak chuckle you attempted, hoping to balance out the sudden pull towards seriousness in this conversation. You weren’t supposed to be serious, “When are-” the question, the only one you could think of suddenly, got cut short by Neil’s answer.

“In about ten minutes. They might be late, though” he glanced at the watch, almost in an afterthought.

Unashamedly, you let out a long sigh, feeling weariness fade for a short while. Ten minutes seemed like an apt time to settle. Or at least enjoy what you have right here and now. What you feared to lose more than you could admit.

Where was courage when one needed it desperately?

“Cool…” your knuckles rapped against the table, hoping to find the bravery in the rhythmless sound, but to no avail. You looked up, instantly caught in Neil’s blue gaze, staring back at you intently. As always. As if there was anything of interest that he could find only on your face, “Can I ask you something?” there was no way of getting rid of the tremors in your voice.

“Always,” Neil nodded, generous enough to spare you the suspense.

Taking a deep breath, you raised your head once more, plunging into the deep end:

“Are we still going to be friends if they hate me?” with no right way for a question like this to come out, you still cringed, wincing as soon as the words left your mouth.

Clingy. Pathetic. So unlike what you thought you knew about yourself. And yet. Because that was the crux of the issue. This deeply rooted fear that Neil’s presence in your life could disappear suddenly without a warning or a reason. A fear you did not understand or experienced before. It was terrifying.

Before your brain could unleash the ramblings, erasing any evidence of the question ever having been asked, you felt Neil’s hand gently cover yours. Despite knowing better, you looked up in time to see another soft smile grace his beautiful features. It mellowed the sharpness of the angles and eased the pain of looking at him.

A pain you were gladly braving every day if it meant you could keep on staring at him. With no desire to understand what that said about you.

“Obviously,” the lack of hesitation on Neil’s part bolstered the faint hope in your soul. It only got stronger as you saw him search your gaze with intent before Neil squeezed your hands and added, “Although I can assure you that they won’t hate you” the lack of judgement in his eyes seemed almost out of place.

A stupid question like that was bound to be judged and ridiculed. Surely. Except Neil did not seem to think so. The realisation made you feel lightheaded. It made no sense in the world order you knew.

You shook your head against the confusion and flipped the hand lying on the table so you could entangle your fingers with his. The softness of his palm moulded to yours as you arched an eyebrow, your face still a picture-perfect of calm:

“How can you be so sure, sunshine?” it was not in your nature to accept reassurance without trying to undermine it. You could tell Neil knew as much. It was there in the utter lack of surprise in his gaze as you prodded, his hand a comforting weight in yours. It helped you take a deep breath and confess what usually remained unsaid, “I know I’m… a lot” your eyes fluttered shut upon the unprecedented display of honesty.

You knew it was true, a fact many thought and no one admitted out loud. Except maybe when they stopped talking to you, leaving you behind without an explanation or an apology. That is when you easily concluded that it has happened again. You were too much. Too much to handle without being enough. Took up too much space without having anything substantial to say or do with it. Asked for too much despite not being worth even an ounce of it. Yeah, that.

It was always like that. So why would it be different this time?

Although you could feel Neil’s piercing gaze on your face, you did not dare look up. Instead, you tightened the hold over his hand and let your thumb brush his skin. The repetitiveness of the caress anchored you in the present. Sometimes, when you were brave enough to contemplate the reality, you marvelled at how easy it was to be like this with him. How you could touch Neil so effortlessly, without worrying about how it would be interpreted or what he could ask for in return.

“You contain multitudes. In the best way,” the affection in his voice made you push against the ridiculous thoughts and look up, even if only to see that same softness reflected in his eyes, “And I’m sure because I can’t imagine meeting you and not being absolutely enchanted, Cupid” squeezing your hand again, he raised your joined palms to lay a kiss on your knuckles.

By now, the move should have been something you were used to. But it wasn’t. It still made you blush, hiding the effects by dropping his gaze and focusing on the table. The warmth his words sparked in your chest simmered with a pleasant heat, almost eradicating every other thought and feeling. Until all that remained was Neil and his steadfast fondness, focused on you. For whatever reason.

It did not take your brain too long to realise the dangers of that line of reasoning, jumping into deflection before any other wayward thought could appear. Raising your head in time for Neil to see a performative eye roll, you replied:

“Christ, you’re really bad for my ego” it was not a lie, and you knew Neil could tell as much from how his mouth twitched.

Still, your hand stayed in his hold, too used to the contact to think about letting go. At least for a little longer.

“Ditto, babe” Neil’s smile widened into a bright grin as he shot you a wink, dropping the new nickname without hesitation.

Almost as if he hoped you would not notice. Wishful thinking and all. The discovery of his slip-up was enough to awaken you, giving your brain something to grasp. A distraction. A way to come back to who you were supposed to be.

Your eyes flashed, a familiar flicker of confidence and control making it easy to hold his gaze. To notice the uncertainty within the blue depths, spurring you on. Before Neil could even think about taking it back, you leaned in, invading his space and getting a whiff of his perfume. Like an addict getting a hit of their drug of choice. Stopping close enough to kiss him if you chose to, you let your nose brush against his in a light caress and whispered a taunting question:

“Ooh, it’s babe now, is it?” the thrill of being this close to him never got old.

It was strengthened by the awed look in his eyes, confirming the suspicions that you finally had the upper hand. Neil looked stunned, blinking rapidly against your proximity and the bold attack you dared execute. You stared as he came to, the hand holding yours twitched and Neil dropped his gaze, overcame with strange bashfulness.  

“If you want it to be,” the murmured reply was coloured with sincerity.

Both an admission and a question, opening the floor for your next move. Swallowing past the pause, you opened your mouth to answer before a loud wolf whistle cut through the tension, making you spring back as if burned. Neil dropped your hand, his gaze instantly switching to the doorway. It did not take a genius to figure out that your time has just run out, and the company has arrived.

Fixing a curious smile onto your face, you turned in the chair, your eyes instantly drawn by the arriving group. The reason for your shocking awakening - a tall, muscled man with a buzzcut and a thick beard was the first to enter. His startling blue eyes met yours as his lips twisted into a smug smirk. He glanced at Neil, some silent understanding passing through his gaze before he asked:

“Are we interrupting something?” the unmistakable Cockney accent in his voice made you grin.

The cheekiness of this stranger was something you felt almost at home with. It was something you knew, the familiarity of it quietening the rapid heartbeat in your chest. Somewhat reluctantly, you shifted your eyes to fall on the second person to enter the room. The short woman, her hair twisted into a tight bun (not unlike what you often sported on stage), met your curious stare with one of her own. The last to enter was a tall, Black man. His presence already emitted confidence and charisma that you could not understand. As soon as his eyes met yours, the man smiled – a light, reassuring expression that transformed his face into something kind and open. With a sigh, you twisted back in the chair and closed your eyes briefly.

They did not seem scary… At least not terribly so.

“Not at all,” you only half registered Neil’s hurried response, noticing him rise from the table and gesture towards you with all the awkwardness of someone unable to play it cool. Despite yourself, you smiled at the realisation, “So, this is-” he never got to introduce you, for the sentence got cut short with another boisterous interruption.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” the bearded man approached the table, his wide grin unfading in the face of your bewilderment.

The remaining duo joined him on either side, all three pairs of eyes focused on you without a dose of apprehension. While the scrutiny was something you expected (and were partially used to), it still made you falter. Tightening your shaky hands into fists at your sides, you rose from the chair and faced them with a matching bright grin. By now, the act was almost too easy to take on - no matter the circumstances.

“It is I, indeed” completing the admission with a theatrical courtesy, you extended your palm towards the woman with what seemed like a safe greeting, “Nice to meet you” she met your handshake without hesitation.

The first handshake was followed by a round of introductions and greetings, easing that early discomfort of not knowing people’s names. Through the few minutes, Neil stayed quiet, observing you with an intensity you were slowly getting used to. You did not understand it, but it was almost comforting in its constant presence.  Only once you were acquainted, you sat back in the chair. Conscious of the new company, you shifted in the seat and folded your hands atop the table, resisting the urge to meet Neil’s gaze as it bore holes into your head from over the tabletop. Before you could even think of anything to say, Ives broke the silence with what you came to understand as his modus operandi:

“Mate, I must say-” the cheekiness permeated every syllable as the man stared between you and Neil with a wide grin.

Curiosity sparked in your chest as you watched the interaction. The blind panic in Neil’s eyes completed the picture as he leapt from the chair and grabbed the sleeve of Ives’ jacket to pull him up.

“It’s best if you don’t,” the warning in his voice was something new.

Something fascinating, too. Something that you had a feeling you would be repeating in the quiet of your mind later. Later, when you were alone.

Now however, you stared as Neil completed the silent exchange with Ives and informed you all that it was time to get drinks. You got as far as telling him the order of choice for the night before the uncertainty caught up again. With Neil and Ives gone from the table, only two pairs of eyes were trained on you. A small mercy, indeed.

Ignoring the urge to flee the scene, you tried to settle in the seat and raised your gaze to meet the dark stare of the man who introduced himself as John. For some reason, his serious countenance inspired trust, making it a little easier to breathe out. The woman, Wheeler, was more intimidating, although you could not explain why if asked. It was not even that she seemed mean or judgemental, but rather that it was difficult to get a reading on her that you feared what she could be thinking.

Before you had a chance to spiral in that direction, yet again failing under the scrutiny of near strangers, John broke the silence with a question:

“So, how did you meet again?” the curiosity was undeniable in his voice, his eyes watchfully trained on yours.

Almost as if it was a test. Luckily, you knew the answers this time.

“On the tube. Neil was gallant enough to help when I dropped half the contents of my handbag on the floor” a fond smile appeared uninvited on your face, forcing you to drop his gaze and stare at the table instead. That did not go unnoticed. You could still feel their interest, like a constant weight upon your shoulders. It would take much more than this to shake it off, “I wasn’t leaving him alone after that” shrugging, you risked a tentative smile and a glance at your companions.

Judgement was still missing from the picture. Instead, the inquisitive light in Wheeler’s eyes turned into something sharper. For a split second, you felt perceived as if she could see through the bullshit smiles and nonchalant shrugs that made up your protective armour. As if she could peer inside the parts of your mind you did not acknowledge for fear of what you would find there.

Before you could let the simmering panic reap its fruits, John replied:

“And a good thing, too, because he shouldn’t be left unsupervised for too long” the humour in his voice acted like a needed respite, pulling you back from the blooming spiral and into the present.

Despite yourself, you grinned. A startled chuckle escaped your lips, confirming what you knew to be true. That, despite the doubts and perhaps an unconventional run of your friendship, you knew Neil. You understood him.

Enough to know that he should never be left to his own devices for too long.

“I’ve noticed,” a secretive smile shared between the three of you felt almost like an inside joke.

The feeling was strengthened when you heard Neil and Ives return from the bar, their banter audible even from beyond the doorway. You waited until the duo settled at the table again, the ordered drink placed in front of you with a smile, before adding, “Now I’m also forcing ballet education onto him,” winking at Neil to both tease him and draw him back to the conversation, you took a fortifying sip of the alcohol.

Not that liquid courage was needed. Of course.

“Which I don’t mind at all” Neil’s responding grin was worth any possible pain. Its warmth filled you from the inside with a mild bloom of affection, making it that much easier to let go of the remaining fears, “I’ll have to drag you with me someday. You’ll see how amazing she is,” directing the sentence at his friends, Neil took a sip of the pint and stared back as if to challenge your wordless wonder.

Even now, the constant praise was difficult to absorb. How could anyone be this nice and not expect anything in return? You did not know.

“There’ll be no dragging necessary. I’d go willingly” despite the apprehension, the first sentence Wheeler spoke to you was filled with enough friendliness you instantly felt bad for doubting her nature. She offered you a sure smile, the sparks of interest clear in her green gaze, “How long have you been dancing?”

Now that was a question you knew the answer to. Without daring to doubt the sincerity of their investment in your story, you dove into the tale. It twisted through the prodding and the questions, reminding you how much you relished being the object of genuine interest. How nice it was to share stories and have others listen instead of ignoring you or cutting short that which you dared feel passionate about.

Only once your tale found its conclusion in the current day and age, daring to share the hopes for the future, did the nerves resurface. You drowned them in another sip of the drink and chose to ask the question that never strayed too far from your mind these days:

“And you guys? What do you do for work?” admittedly, it was not the smoothest move on your part.

The eagerness shone through each word as you rested your chin on your hand and ignored Neil’s gaze. Perhaps tonight was the lucky one…

“We- You haven’t told her?” as soon as the hope began to build, making you lean forward in anticipation, Ives clearly remembered his surroundings, silencing his own reply with a question directed at Neil.

One glance at the man in question showed you the depths of panic, making you step in. Just in case.

“He hasn’t,” hoping the reassurance in your voice would be enough for them to believe you, you added, tone dropping to that teasing timbre Neil knew well enough, “Which has led to some rather… fascinating conversations” whether mentioning the many inside jokes was a good idea, you did not know.

But it was already done. The reveal did what you needed it to as you watched with interest the many emotions passing through their faces. Brief bewilderment was there, alongside confusion and boundless curiosity. But, perhaps most importantly of all, you could see respect. Hidden behind layers of thoughts and questions, but it was there. You earned it.

And through no other means than being yourself. Little victories have never felt more genuine.

“Such as?” Ives was the first to speak, prodding and teasing, his gaze filled with that familiar cheeky gleam, “Don’t leave us hanging, sweetheart” the nickname rolled off his tongue with ease, which seemed surprising to everyone but the man himself.

You did not mind. Stealing another glance at Neil, if only to check whether he still seemed somewhat alright with the conversation (barely), you allowed your mouth to twist into a telling grin:

“Wouldn’t dream of it” by now, Neil must have known what that smile meant.

The expectation was confirmed by his long-suffering sigh, interjected with a curse and a groan, sounding almost like a plea for heavenly intervention.

That is, if God, the Holy Spirit, or anyone else fancied being cursed while asked for help.

“Jesus fucking-” cutting himself short with another sigh, Neil covered his face with his hands, almost as if unwilling to take part in what would follow.

Still, you could see the remains of a fond smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. That discovery was enough to get rid of any traces of uncertainty. You leaned over the table and dropped your voice to a conspiratory whisper:

“My personal favourite is that Neil is a priest. He’s got the charisma, and I’m pretty sure those dashing looks would help to convert non-believers” admittedly, you were proud of delivering the line with a straight face.

Even more so when, after approximately five seconds, you had the desired reaction of three people dissolving into different stages of laughter at your whim. Despite yourself, you met Neil’s gaze, only to find him beaming with traces of good-natured annoyance in the gleam in his eyes. Wordlessly, you arched an eyebrow, seeking approval. Always eager to be praised for something you felt you deserved. His smile only widened as Neil sneaked a hand beneath the table and briefly squeezed your knee.

That just about did it when it came to praise.

Enough so that when a reply came from your unexpected audience, you were caught unaware by the tone and the knowing smirk present on Ives’ face as he asked:

“Speaking from experience?” startled, you looked up in time to see his confident grin, pointing towards a thought you had not entertained before.

They knew. At some point between the previous Friday night and today, Neil told them what had happened. He has perhaps shared it all, and now you were not only regarded as a strange woman he has befriended on the London Underground but also as someone he had sex with. A lover, if you dared label things. Although obvious a realisation, it was still somewhat unexpected, making your hands twitch as you slipped back on the mask of utter nonchalance. There was no point in pretending now.

“Absolutely” without batting an eyelid, you met Ives’ relentless smirk with an innocent smile of your own, choosing to take back control of the conversations as much as it was possible,  “So, whatever parish you belong to, I might want an invitation” concluding the story with a telling wink, you picked up the glass and took a long sip, relishing in the slight burn of alcohol down your throat.

The sensation was enough to distract you from the strange thoughts, inspiring you to give in to the constant pull and meet Neil’s gaze over the table. He was already staring back, his mouth quirked into a soft smile. It was impossible to discern what it meant.

“We’ll come back to this conversation. If that’s okay,” John’s serious voice broke you out of the daydream, making you look up at him with surprise clear on your face.

That same air of authority you noticed the first time you had laid your eyes upon him was even more visible now that you got to talk. Without being able to explain it, you felt like he was the person most in charge out of the whole quartet. The one calling the shots. If anything, the comment enforced the idea, making you drop the playfulness for a split second to offer him a nod:

“Perfectly,” if only to ensure you had not accidentally ended up on the shit list for being too nosy, you added, “Mind you, I’m not holding a grudge. It’s just curiosity,” and it was, just that. The pure desire to know all there was to know about Neil. To piece apart his entire being and analyse it as one does when having encountered something so fascinating they could not walk past it. Yeah, just that. Shaking your head to erase unwanted thoughts, you chose to fall back on what was pleasantly familiar – letting your mouth do the talking without consulting the head on whether it was wise, “Although now that I’ve met you all, I think that perhaps it’s my other guess that makes more sense” letting the sentence trail off to a meaningful pause was an easy fate.

It was something you knew how to do. Entertain. Entrance. Fascinate. All to draw that fleeting attention, which would not solve anything except making you believe you were worth someone’s time. For a short while.

It worked this time, as always. All four pairs of eyes trained on you with curiosity. Ives was the first to break the silence, giving you what you had been waiting for:

“Which is?” arching an eyebrow, he leaned over the table, mirroring your position.

A flash of exhilaration passed through your soul, alighting that which usually laid dormant. Without meaning to, you met Neil’s gaze again, copying the cheeky smile before offering an answer:

“That you’re all in MI6” if not for the distraction in the form of his blue eyes, you were sure you would have clocked in the reactions, or rather the alarming lack of them, sooner. You blinked against the intoxicating pull of him, barely registering the silence from your companions, and found the bravery to add that which was meant for Neil only, “I mean, you could definitely pull off James Bond,” acutely aware of the audience, you tightened your hands into fists in your lap to prevent yourself from reaching out, signing off the statement with a wink.

That, too, hit the mark. You watched with delight as Neil blushed, the pink hue blooming on his cheekbones as he dropped your gaze and downed the rest of his beer. A gleeful chuckle was unavoidable as you finally gathered enough coherence to glance at the remaining companions. The mix of joy, consternation and pensiveness was something to behold, arresting your attention and sparking interest. What could it possibly mean? Questions began multiplying in your brain as you stared, particularly drawn to the exact expression on John’s face. It resembled quiet resolve as if he had just made up his mind about something and would not be persuaded to change it no matter the circumstances.

You had a feeling that you were not an exception to that rule.

“Cupid-” whatever Neil aimed to say got interrupted before you could focus your eyes back on him.

Still, the nickname resounded at the table with an extra impact, perhaps because it was the first time he had used it with the current company present. Despite wishing to remain blind to little details, you took note of the flash of interest in Wheeler’s eyes as her eyes flitted between the two of you. Thinking. You itched to ask what about but also feared the answer. Before you could even gather your thoughts enough to understand the intricacies of the situation, John got up from the chair, pulling Neil alongside him with a tight grip on his shoulder.

“C’mon. Let’s get second round” his tone left no room for discussion as he directed a pointed look at Ives and started for the bar without another word.

You stared as the two men scrambled after him, clearly taken aback by the sudden command. Now, curiosity was an understatement. It bloomed in your chest as you stared at Wheeler, silently begging for answers before you found any words to express an ounce of the confusion:

“What did just-” whatever question you had aimed to ask, you never got the chance as she interrupted you smoothly with a sleight of hand.

“Pay them no mind” that was not a suggestion, either. The order was visible in the focused gaze Wheeler placed on you, its weight quickly becoming bothersome, making you shift in the seat. Soon, you knew it was for a good reason, “Neil really likes you,” there was no question in the statement.

No chance for you to deny the claim. It wasn’t a false claim, either. You knew as much without needing to think about it. He liked you. It was there in every fond look, every tender touch, every affectionate word. And you knew that it was something you were guilty of as well. There was no point in pretending otherwise.

Ignoring the ever-present desire to run away, you strengthened your spine and met her searching gaze with honesty on your face:

“I know. I like him too. Never expected to meet a best friend on the Jubilee line, but well…” shrugging to shake off the remaining worries at your sincerity, you offered her a careful smile.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you understood their importance. You had never admitted it out loud. That this was a first. The first time you voiced what was long established in your mind and heart. What happened before you were aware. Before you could stop it. Was that another mistake? You did not dare answer that question.

Instead, you dropped Wheeler’s gaze and trained your eyes on the table, fingers idly tracing the grains in the dark wood. You knew the conversation was not over now that she had you alone and clearly unable to keep quiet. You did not have to wait long for another hit.

“He told us about what happened after the ballet last week” the judgment was still missing from the equation, no matter how hard you looked for it.

With your suspicions confirmed, there was no point in trying to pretend. No point in acting as if what she believed was untrue. That, too, was a fact. An undeniable truth, memorable and unforgettable.

After a beat, you braved the intensity of her gaze, feeling something else underneath the simple observation. Wheeler hardly seemed like a person to say things without there being a point to them. This time was not any different. The green of her eyes told you she was curious, eager to learn your side of things, but at the same time, she seemed almost wary. Concerned in ways that did not make much sense except for maybe…

“And you’re against it?” the question burst out from your lips before you knew you had formulated it. There was an edge to it that you immediately regretted but did not take back just yet. Not before adding essential information that could sway her. Why it mattered, you did not know, “I must assure you that Neil is in control. I offered to keep this strictly platonic. He’s yet to give me an answer,” the words rushed out with barely a pause in between as if you were on borrowed time.

Perhaps you did not want the company to return before you could wrap up this conversation. Perhaps it felt like if you do as much as hesitate in your answers, you will never get the words out again. And that would not do.

Wheeler only finished her drink in the face of your frenzied confession and took another moment to stare at you calmly before answering:

“I’m not against it, just worried. Neil is a genius, but he’s also a fool. And a romantic, at that,” the tired resignation in her tone provoked a careful smile to appear on your face despite the blooming worry springing alongside it.

It was something you feared, albeit without ever entertaining the thought consciously. His friends had every right to be worried. In fact, you were happy to see someone else care about Neil the way he deserved to be cared for. Intensely. But it was another thing to be seen as a potential threat towards his happiness. Someone to be cautious of. Someone who could hurt Neil. Someone you desperately wanted never to become.

“The worst combo,” ignoring the spiral which had just begun to take root in your mind, you quipped.

The force of the jest got lost somewhere between your head and mouth, lining the words with nerves and uncertainty. It still got a reaction you hoped to achieve as Wheeler’s face broke into a tentative smile.

“Isn’t it just?” her eyes met yours with hints of good-natured delight in the green irises, almost making you feel better about what followed. As soon as she sobered up, you could feel your chest seize painfully, the fear sinking its cold fingers into the fabric of your soul, “The point is that I hope you don’t hurt him. No matter what ends up happening between you” the intent was clear in her gaze.

As was the message. Should you hurt Neil, there would be consequences. Simple. Infinitely more effective than an outright threat.

Somehow, you did not need to search your soul to understand the fear beginning to shape there. You were not scared of what Wheeler or the other would do to you if you hurt Neil. No, it was something much more terrifying. It was the pure horror of knowing that, realistically, you could break his heart. Even if that were the last thing you would want to do. Even if you would never choose to do so. The ability was there. And that was enough.

Swallowing past the desire to flee, you forced yourself to meet her gaze and offer an answer as close to the truth as you could manage. As close as you hoped to be.

“I’ll do my best” you could tell your mouth trembled as you tried to form it into a reassuring smile, but still, you wished for it to be enough.

Because there was nothing better that you could offer. You stared as Wheeler processed your reply, her watchful gaze peering right into the fabric of your soul. It felt like an eternity before she nodded once, ending the conversation with decisiveness. A tired sigh escaped your throat as you sunk lower in the chair. You knew that it would haunt you for days to come.

In the background, you could hear the approaching voices of the rest of your party. The noise sobered you, helping to push against the melancholy and paste on a mischievous smirk. With the mask back in place, you knew you could survive the rest of the evening. Somehow.

***

By the time you had left the pub, the warmth of Neil’s hand on the small of your back guiding you outside, it was late, and your cheeks hurt from smiling. That pleasant tiredness that often came from spending too much time with people, forced to be someone you were never sure you understood, burned through your muscles, leaving you slightly dizzy. But that might have also been the alcohol. Or Neil’s loose handhold, dragging you towards the underground station.

You were not quite sure when it had been decided that you would come back together, only that the conversation involved something with Jubilee Line name-drop and Ives’ boisterous laughter. And a knowing gleam in his eyes that you did not enjoy. Still, as Neil patiently led you down the streets of Soho and towards Leicester Square, you did not mind the result. It gave you more time with him. More time to talk and less time to think about what the eventful evening brought up. About the fears festering in your heart.

Still, the comfortable silence was broken only once you were seated in the carriage, Neil’s thigh pressed against yours on the narrow plastic seats. His hands folded in his lap, tempting you with a comforting touch just a move away. If you dared be bold.

“So… what’s the verdict?” Neil’s question acted like the needed wake-up, pulling from the depths of confusing thoughts and confounding feelings.

It was harmless, instantly drawing your smile from its hiding place. One glance at Neil told you that was the intent, with the affectionate look in his eyes, studying your face. Sometimes, you wondered whether there would ever come a time when you were brave enough to ask what he was thinking about when he stared at you like that. What it meant, if anything at all. Today, you could only return his look and offer a grin as a prologue to your reply:

“They’re insane people” your smile widened as you watched Neil bark out a startled laugh. It was a beautiful sound, making you bask in the glow of those unexpected joys. It was that spark of happiness that made you add, “Just like you,” leaning into his personal space, you gave his shoulder a nudge, this once hoping that the fondness could be seen in your eyes.

You wanted him to notice, to know that the teasing came from no other place but that of affection. That, as you confessed to Wheeler, Neil was important. Probably your best friend. An honourable mantle not many could admit to having possessed. In the entire history of your life.

Neil’s gaze softened as he returned the playful nudge and bumped his nose into yours, drawing a startled gasp from your throat. Proximity tended to do that to you.

“I’d say something about pots and kettles, but-” the warmth in his voice made you wake up from the strange thoughts as you grinned, rolling your eyes at the jest barely disguised behind the good-natured tease.

The sentiment still filled your heart with a contented type of joy, casting the previous anxieties back to the shadows where they lurked. For now, they were not needed. Now, all that mattered was turning your body fully towards Neil and blocking everything except for his beautiful smile and striking blue eyes.

“I own my insanity, thank you very much” feigning nonchalance, you shot him an unimpressed smile before dropping the pretence to offer sincerity. As he deserved, “I like them. They seem fun to be around, and I’d love to meet them again” you met his serious gaze with a wavering smile, feeling it shake beneath the uncertainty that loitered at the edges of your consciousness. Despite the wishes to do so, you did not seem capable of shaking off the anxiety tonight. The addition needed to be said, if only for your sanity, “That is if they don’t hate me” what started loud and confident was finished in a murmur, half-whispered at the dirty carriage floor.

Sudden losses of confidence were something you were not used to, yet getting more accustomed to by the day. At some point, unknowingly to you, along with the trust in the realness of whatever you and Neil had, that old, blind self-assurance dwindled. It was still there but wounded and unable to return to what it was. And you had no idea why that could be except for the terrifying thought that the simple reality of being perceived was enough to tear at your foundations.

You felt Neil’s careful touch, his fingers tipping up your chin, so you had no choice but to meet his reassuring gaze. The pads of his fingers lightly brushed the skin of your neck, kindling the fire that always burned underneath your skin in his presence. You barely resisted the urge to close your eyes and lean into the feeling, forgetting about the conversation and everything else.

“No chance, sweetheart” perhaps the confidence you had been missing could be found in Neil’s smile, shining at you like a beacon of benediction. Or at least it felt like sometimes, especially in the haziness of the late hours and fluorescent lights. Now, as if sensing your uncertainty, Neil covered your hands with his and squeezed them reassuringly, “I’m yet to get professional feedback, but I believe they liked you very much” risking a peek, you met his gaze only to find nothing but affection there, its intensity making you feel lightheaded. No matter the amount of practice, you did not seem capable of getting used to it. Not at all, “Not as much as me, though” when the conclusion to his speech finally arrived, you needed another long moment to process it.

Another beat still to find an opportunity within it. It presented a whole myriad, an easy way out of the conversation that would no longer feel so awfully revealing. A chance for you to reclaim the bravado that so often served as a shield. A protective veil to hide behind until you would be brave enough to face the truth. You were not going to let it pass you by.

Without wasting another second, you presented Neil with a familiar grin as his hand dropped from your chin. You instantly mourned the loss, although you did not let it show.

“Yeah, I’d hope not. I’m not sure I’d be into threesomes” the delivery of the line seemed almost impeccable, making you preen at the instant reaction on Neil’s face in the form of his utter bewilderment. He blinked as if stuck with an exceptionally persistent thought, as a pink hue spread over his cheeks, widening your grin. As always, the instant gratification hit like the finest of drugs, getting right to your head, “Might get too possessive,” the addition, covertly whispered into his ear despite the empty carriage, only strengthened the effect as Neil sputtered, choking on his saliva.

Moments like this were why you knew you were already beyond the hope of saving. There was no going back from this. No chance of forgetting Neil and moving on with your life as if none of this ever happened. Sometimes, when you were brave enough to be honest with yourself, you admitted that you did not want to forget, even if you could.

“Helpful feedback” seemingly recovered from his moment, Neil shot you a glare, barely hiding the happiness visible in his gaze.

Teasing him was always the highlight of every meeting, giving you a chance to practice what you knew you were good at, with the additional advantage of an audience hanging upon each word. Briefly, you wondered whether having an active listener at your beck and call was good for your ego. Decidedly not, but the damage was already done.

“At your service” instead of entertaining the ridiculous thoughts, you mimed a low bow in his direction and squeezed his knee instead of pressing another presumptuous kiss to his cheek. Those would have to be held back until the next time you saw him. Just to be safe.

You met his intense, unwavering gaze just in time to see Neil sober up. His permanent smile faded as he shifted in the seat, almost as if steeling himself for something. Before you could open your mouth to ask, he broke the silence again:

“I have an answer for you” the initial confusion at the opener disappeared as soon as you noticed the uncertainty in his gaze. That sudden shyness you were slowly becoming accustomed to replaced the previous bravery as Neil took a fortifying breath and sighed out the promised answer, “Yes,” there was nothing else to it.

Just one word changing the course of your relationship without a hitch or hesitancy. The suddenness was the only thing that surprised you, with the brain half convinced Neil would need weeks to decide instead of just six days. Still, the uncertainty in his face must have been contagious, for you felt it spread across your soul, eradicating any other feeling or thought. There was no space for joy or excitement at what this course of events would mean for you. There was only doubt.

Whether Neil knew what he was saying. Whether he understood what it meant. Whether he was not making the mistake, Wheeler worried he was capable of. Whether you had the right to ask him in the first place.

Painfully aware of Neil’s attention, you forced your rapid heartbeat to slow down and voiced the only question that felt worth asking:

“Yes?” perhaps it was superfluous, just another second wasted on confirming what was already done and dusted.

Perhaps it spoke volumes about the person you wanted to be – thoughtful, patient, selfless – instead of the one you knew you were. Perhaps it was just another thing you could blame on the alcohol in your system. None of the reasons mattered as soon as Neil’s sombre countenance broke into another sunny smile. His hand came up to hold yours as if without a conscious thought. You settled in the feeling to find the necessary grounding.

“Yes. Because I don’t think I’m capable of keeping hands to myself when I’m with you” although the comment was anything but soft and affectionate, Neil’s hold told another story.

You stared as his thumb traced an invisible path over your knuckles. Over and over again. Until it was a sensation you could anchor within, taking a deep breath to find your footing once more. It would be alright. It had to.

“That’s flattering” despite the numerous buts and ifs whirling in your head, you met Neil’s searching gaze with a semi-confident smile.

You meant it. That much was certain. Because doubts and worries aside, all that mattered was simple: Neil wanted you. Enough so to try something new. Enough so not to choose between your friendship and the intimacy you could have alongside it. Enough so you didn’t have to decide for him instead.

As if reading your mind, Neil turned towards you and tightened the hold over your hand. Without breaking the eye contact, he raised your joined hands to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to your knuckles, repeating a move already so familiar, yet still somehow unexpected. The breath hitched in your chest as he leaned forward, his other hand cupping your cheek and the thumb carefully brushing over your blushing skin. Quickly, you became incapable of doing anything but stare, awaiting his next move.

Neil’s gaze roamed over your face, as always drawn to your eyes only to glance at your parted lips and get stuck there. Quirking your mouth into a smile, you barely had the mind to find an appropriate quip before Neil wiped the intent clear with one swipe of his thumb. You gasped as you felt his finger trace the contour of your lips, the lipstick applied just before exiting the pub still relatively intact. He seemed to contemplate the next step as his blue eyes flicked to yours, searching for something. Whatever it was, Neil must have found it, for the next thing you registered was a decisive touch of the offending finger, swiping over your lower lip to smudge the lipstick and smear it over the corner of your mouth. Another embarrassing sigh was unavoidable as you glanced up in time to see the hunger in his eyes. As is for the past week, he has been holding himself back just as much as you did. As if this was to be your new normal. The thought alone was enough to make you shiver.

“Even tonight, I thought about dragging you with me to the bathroom and…” the confession was whispered in the meagre space between your faces, Neil’s voice taking on the tone you already knew yet had not heard a while.

The low, husky notes reverberated through your veins, erasing any uncertainties you could have had. None of that mattered. You had Neil to do as you pleased, and he had you. For however long it would last. For however long it would be mutually beneficial. Of course.

Now, with the promise of what could be placed so openly in front of you, you did not want to waste a second longer. Time was precious enough. Ignoring the pounding in your heart and the way Neil’s fingers slipped down the slope of your throat to loosely rest over your collarbone, you decimated the space to nothing but millimetres and whispered:

“Next time, you can just ask” upon his silent question, you nodded, confirming what you hoped would be evident enough, “I’d let you” curling your fingers around his hand touching your collarbone, you pressed your joined hands over your heart and closed the gap to leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

The resistance from claiming his lips was running thinner by the minute. But, as with most things, you needed Neil to take that step. To confirm his words with something much more tangible than your entangled hands and knees pressed close.

“You’d let me do what?” Neil tilted his head slightly as if trying to get a better reading of you.

From the depth of feelings, he must have seen on your face.

The slight smug tint to his smile let you know it was all just a pose. He had it figured out already. Except that being a little shit that he sometimes tended to be, Neil wanted to hear you say it. Assuredly. Loudly. Just so there was no room for doubt and a chance to confirm what you both knew. The desire was very much mutual. Sometimes, especially at night, you liked to recollect the exact feel of his hands on your body and the sounds he made when he came inside you. Those memories were enough to make you climax.

Neil had that much power over you for better or for worse. Somehow, even before actively opening your mouth to speak, you already knew you would not put up a fight. There was no point.

“Whatever you want,” squeezing his hand that was comfortably placed in your lap, you made sure to meet his gaze when stating the obvious.

Neil took it with a blinding smile, his hand letting go of yours to venture up your neck again, lightly brushing over the faded bruises as if he could still remember where he had marked you a week before. You did not tell him that the morning after you took a picture of yourself in the bathroom mirror. Just to have another thing to remember him by.

“And now?” with your proximity, you could feel his breath fan your face with every word spoken.

The intensity in Neil’s gaze was almost too much. Almost, for it was exactly what you needed to be brave again. It strengthened the resolve blooming beneath your skin as you cupped his cheek and stroked the stubble with your thumb. It was impossible not to notice how Neil closed his eyes upon your move, leaning into your palm as if that was what he needed. With the evidence of your shared wants so clearly displayed, you did not need further courage to say what has been nagging at your brain for the past hours. One request gnawing at your mind, heart and soul, impossible to ignored.

“Now just kiss me” frowning at the needy tone of your voice, you waited for Neil’s eyes to snap open to add what was only aimed to be a further persuasion, “Please. It’s been too long,” noting the hunger in his gaze, you knew you did not have to convince him to give you what you asked for.

He wanted it too, only-

“A week” his lips twisted into an amused smirk as he arched his eyebrow in the face of your hunger.

Any other time, you would have let him indulge in it. You would have let him be a nuisance to fulfil the internal quota Neil seemed to have set for himself. But tonight, you had no patience left.

“Exactly. Too long,” freeing your hand to draw him even closer with a hold over his jacket, you closed your eyes and slid your palm to the back of his neck, angling Neil the way you needed him.

Neil did not need further pointers. You heard his quiet groan, half-swallowed by your mouth and felt him pull you as close as physically possible with his arm around your waist and a hand on your cheek. Your body moulded to his shape, lips slanting over his with practised ease. That first swipe of your tongue across his lower lip instantly reminded you exactly why his kisses were something you missed so desperately. The familiar taste filled your senses, making you dig your fingertips in the hair on his nape, tugging gently at the golden locks. It was impossible not to let out a quiet moan straight into his opening mouth. Neil’s tongue greedily collected the sound, mapping the inside of your mouth with attention to detail that still astounded you. As did his unwavering hold, arm gently supporting your back and keeping you close, nestled into his chest and the warmth it provided.

You kissed until oxygen became a prized commodity you could not willingly give up. Even if you wanted to. Only then, with a final decisive peck on his closing lips, you leaned back (only as far as Neil would allow) and opened your eyes. He was one step ahead, staring at you with a soft smile. There was no choice but to mirror the expression, relaxing your hold on his neck and pressing your palm flat over his heart. Neil’s thumb stroked your cheekbone, eliciting an embarrassingly affectionate look in your eyes. As if hoping to rectify its impact, you dropped his gaze and let go of him, aware that more tenderness between you would only spell trouble. And that was the last thing you needed.

As if reading your mind, a feat you were half-sure Neil was capable of (all things considered), he dropped his hands, letting go of you and offered another reassuring smile. A simple gesture yet sufficient in helping your heart rate drop to normal levels. A cursory glance out the window assured you had not accidentally missed your stop - another win for the nonexistent tally. Almost as good as the very next thing Neil chose to say:

“Soon, I might also have that other answer for you” his nonchalant tone was a striking contrast to the previous certainty and smugness.

But it did its job, drawing you in with ease. Despite the fading awkwardness, you met his gaze and noted the sincerity you could see there. The genuine wish to both make you comfortable again and share that one significant piece of his story you did not yet possess.

“The one that got you in trouble tonight?” risking a sly look, you arched an eyebrow and leaned back in the creaky plastic chair.

While Wheeler indirectly told you to drop it, there was no chance you would listen. And especially not when it was just you and Neil, alone and open to each other like always.

You knew you had hit the jackpot with your guess when Neil winced, a passing shell-shocked expression on his face hinting at slight trauma of the kind that only the closest friends could inflict upon one another. Whatever happened when John all but hauled him out of the room was not pleasant. And it only added to the curiosity in your soul.

“It wasn’t- Yes, that one” interrupting his attempt at deflection, Neil nodded, his smile dropping in favour of something much more serious.

It was not a sight you wanted to see. It seemed wrong. Especially then in an empty carriage with the flickering lights after such a pleasant evening. As much as you wanted to know, constantly consumed with the eagerness to unveil that remaining piece of the puzzle labelled ‘Neil’ (the label was blue, with the glittery gold letters and pink heart-shaped embellishments), the other part of your brain hated seeing him so sombre. Hated the fading smiles and the uncertainties those grey moments tended to unleash within Neil. There was no question about what you needed to do.  

“That’s okay, I already know all I need” without letting yourself falter, you reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder and offered him a bright smile.

Hoping to convey the most important message – it could wait. There was no rush. Nothing better to do but enjoy what you shared without further need to complicate it.

“Which is?” the hesitation in his question only drove the point forward, helping you eradicate the remaining inhibitions.

Even if just for this one moment. You knew your time was running out, with the St. John’s Wood station approaching mercilessly. If you were in luck, there were perhaps three minutes to spare. Three minutes to show Neil his secret did not matter at all.

Your hand slid down his chest to comfortably settle atop his knee, the warmth of his body slowly becoming your favourite type of anchor. Neil glanced at your subtle move, but he stayed still. Almost as if afraid to move and break the spell. This fear, too, had to be quelled immediately.

“That I’m allowed to do this” with a whisper, you leaned in and closed the gap again by covering his mouth in a gentle kiss. Where previously there was hunger and desire, this time tenderness reigned, helping you settle the right pace with measured pecks and soothing caresses of your hands upon his body. Neil matched you beat for beat, drawing you closer again and gladly accepting all that you were giving. You kissed until a familiar crackle of the PA system made you separate, panting mouth and hazed eyes shared between you. Grinning like a lunatic, you leaned back in for a split second to kiss his cheek and stood up before Neil had a chance to react, “And that you’re my best friend” it almost felt like a relief to say out loud. Especially when the confession was received with Neil’s surprised, yet blinding smile, breaking through the paralysis induced by your sudden actions. The train began to slow down, approaching your station platform. Without another word or reckless act, you approached the doors and turned your head towards him with a simple farewell “Goodnight” as soon as it slid open, you left the carriage.

[floralcyanide]

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 • 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫

Part Three

Roman Bridger x AFAB!Reader

The day Roman first laid eyes on you, he knew he had to have you. There was something about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and usually, he was good at reading people off the bat. But you were a different story. Naturally, you only opened up when necessary, not letting people in if you didn’t have a reason to. So you were guarded, and Roman didn’t like that. He wanted to worm his way into your life, no matter what it took.

If that took delving into his twisted past again in order to get to you, so be it.

AFAB - (assigned female at birth) someone who is born female but can identify with she/her or other pronouns. reader pronouns are gender neutral, so people who use any pronouns can read, but female anatomy will be used and described in this fanfiction eventually.

warnings: brief descriptions of murder, nsfw, beginning signs of obsession and yandere behavior, perhaps an innuendo at the end who knowsss...

word count: 976

author's note: I am so sorry for the wait!! I got sick this past week with something?? and had to go to the hospital and all that jazz. fun times. I also wrote this instead of working on my finals because I make good decisions, obviously. I'm sorry it's short, but the next chapter will likely be long because things might happen... hmmm.... also enjoy a look inside Roman's head in this chapter. I might do more of that if you all like it!

series masterlist | masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

Pretending to be an adoring fan of Cotton and getting him to relax was all too easy. Getting him to panic, though? Even easier and twice as fun. Cotton and Roman’s brief yet daunting conversation over the phone gave Roman that familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. Slaughtering Cotton and his little blonde girlfriend was bringing back that urge- that desire to kill that had been for so long shoved away. It had taken residence in the back of Roman’s mind for years now, only to bare its teeth again at the thought of anyone harming you. 

You, Roman thought as he plunged his knife into Cotton, you are so special. I hardly know anything about you, but I know you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I did this for you, Y/N. You thought I wouldn’t hear that he spilled coffee on you? Burned you? Then got a little too close to you? Cotton is not a good guy, Y/N. He’s not a nice guy like me. I can take care of you and love you.

Roman somewhat cringes inwardly at how obsessive he is becoming over you. But he can’t help it. He’s got mommy issues, after all. He serves Cotton one final blow that sucks the light out of his eyes quickly. Roman sits on his knees momentarily, wiping the blade clean of blood before standing back up and hurriedly leaving the apartment. 

It’s dead silent in Roman’s condo as he lays in bed later that night, staring at the ceiling blankly. His hands are resting on his chest as he focuses on his breathing, trying his best to fall asleep. But it’s been two hours with no avail. Roman’s mind begins to wander to you like always. It’s only been a month of knowing you exist, but it’s been an excellent month for Roman. Other than him realizing that killing off Cotton could mean bad things for the movie. But at this point, he only cares about his own film because you’re in it, even as an extra. However, he’s asked John Milton about a dozen times already if you could have a role, and he’s said no every time. Roman won’t give up on you, even if he has to kill someone else. Maybe he’ll go for Jennifer or Angelina since they have good roles. You deserve those roles more than they do, in Roman’s opinion. 

Eventually, Roman falls asleep, and the following day rolls around all too soon. He clambers out of bed once he realizes he’s got about 20 minutes to become presentable and get to the studio. Roman runs a wet comb through his hair before hurriedly brushing his teeth, searching his closet for a button-up in your favorite color. He figured that out quite easily, as you often wear the color. After spitting out the toothpaste and pulling the shirt on, Roman examines himself quickly before bolting out of his condo. Traffic is, of course, hellish on the way to the studio, but Roman makes it a reasonable time. He’s about 10 minutes earlier than usual, surprisingly. 

When Roman reaches his office, he starts reviewing the current script and seeing how he could sneakily revise it to fit your style and acting methods. He’s picked up on some things about you so far, such as how intensely you can become someone else, even if they’re a background character. You express emotion in such a beautiful way, too. God, Roman could eat you alive. You were perfect in his eyes. And when you walk into his office during his revision session, he swears he’s still in bed dreaming.

“Hey, uh, Roman?” you scratch the back of your neck nervously, standing in the doorway.

“Yes, Y/N?” Roman asks with a smile.

“I was wondering if there were any updates to the script for the extras. I know you’ve been rewriting things quite a lot, so,” you pause, trying not to sound too bitchy about it, “Not that it’s a bad thing, I just want to be prepared.”

Roman chuckles with a casual nod, trying to seem collected, “Everything is still the same. But I’m still trying to put bugs in some ears about you. You have a real talent, even if you don’t see it.”

You brush some hair from your eyes, “Roman, I appreciate you trying, but I’m fine with just being an extra. It’s what I’ve been doing for years, and I don’t see that changing.”

Roman shakes his head, “You won’t know until you try.”

You stare into his eyes for a moment, and his gaze lingers. 

“You know what,” Roman says, not breaking eye contact, “How about we meet for coffee later, and you can look over the main script and see what you think? I’m revising it and need some feedback. Is that okay with you?”

You bite your lip, surprised Roman would ask to see you outside work. Your stomach erupts into nervous butterflies at the thought.

“Sure, I’d love to,” you nod, “See you at the parking lot after we wrap?”

“Of course,” Roman smiles, “See you then.”

You turn to leave Roman’s office, and he unashamedly watches your ass as you exit. God, he thinks, if I could only have you for one night to show you that you don’t need anyone but me. You’d be wrapped around my finger. Begging for me every chance you had. Roman has to shake his head in order to get the image of your ass bent over for him out of his imagination. He needed to focus on work again so he could have something to show you later. 

Roman wanted to show you more than the script, though. But he needed to figure out how to get under your skin. He thinks he knows just how to do it, too. 

taglist:

@bridgergf @crinimalmindsfan13 @oddlittleminx @axen-gers @alwayslilithnevreve @belovedtylerrr @bonbekahsfav @elliotss @jokersgrf @snazzynacho

[morrieandlicky]

E.M. Forster's journal entries relating to Maurice in his "Locked Diary"

Apologies in advance—I only had about an hour in the library to skim through the entire source, "The Journals and Diaries of E.M. Forster vol 2", which contains every journal entry of Forster from 1910 to the late 1960's. I thus probably missed some mentions of Maurice. But surprisingly, there were much fewer Maurice entries than expected—and many are short and subtle.

6th December, 1913:

The first mention of Maurice: "my novel goes slower."

(Some context: the short story mentioned here is Forster's gay erotic story which "shocked" his mentor Dickinson—and caused a rift between them. Meredith is the real-life Clive Durham who read Maurice's writing in progress and was utterly repelled by the story.)

31st December, 1913:

The second mention is also the most important and iconic one: "Edward Carpenter! Edward Carpenter! Edward Carpenter!"

The entry is a part of Forster's 1913 end-of-year reflection. It shows Forster mentally struggling with whether to proceed with the novel. It's also confirmed that the day he formulated the love story in his mond during his visit to Edward Carpenter and George Merrill—the real-life Maurice and Alec—is 13th of September, 1913.

Also, the Greenwood here is not the same greenwood Maurice and Alec escape to. It's Leonard Greenwood, a close confidante of Forster who was very important in producing and preserving the first manuscript of Maurice, and who fell apart with Forster later.

June, 1914:

Completely my fault—I failed to capture the exact date and wider context, but I do remember it being a very brief mention of Maurice in the summer of 1914.

31st December, 1914:

Another end of year reflection. We see that Forster was able to mend his relationship with Dickinson who liked and approved Maurice. Also, we can guess of Meredith (H.O.M.)'s continuing aversion to the novel, Greenwood's relationship with Forster deteriorating, and Forster feeling indebted to Edward Carpenter (E.C.).

(The next and last entry about Maurice I found is from the '1950s... I might have missed some mentions. But it must be noted that Maurice was revised many times between 1914 and 1959. There was even a point in 1932 when Forster finalized a manuscript that had a much less satisfying ending between Maurice and Alec without the epilogue.

Forster's letters with his friends who've read Maurice do show us his own thoughts on the story's ending as well as what drove his revisions across decades. His diary, however, does not.)

31st December, 1952 and 1st January, 1953:

Context: in 1951/1952, Forster was encouraged by another gay novelist Christopher Isherwood to add more scenes between Maurice and Alec, and so Forster did, enthusiastically and very quickly—after many years of refusing Isherwood's requests to add more scenes (we don't know what Isherwood said to Forster to sway him). Hence, the hotel chapter after the British museum was manually added to the 1932 finalized manuscript—clipped in, actually. The "Maurice's end" mentioned here is probably not the hotel chapter, however, but likely Maurice's final farewell to Clive.

That's it. Though the novel wasn't completely finalized until 1959 when Forster managed to unite Maurice and Alec at the boathouse in explicit writing. Before then, their reunion was only implied, which is why the 1932 ending is a big let-down since it didn't have the monologue.

Lastly, some interesting diary entries from Forster:

Why was Forster drawn to lower class men? Carpenter explained himself.

2. Forster moving on from his first love Mohammed el Adl, a lower-class Egyptian who ended up marrying a woman and likely broke up with Forster on very bad terms. (Spoiler alert: Forster failed to move on... Plenty of mentions and entries about Mohammed later on.)

Context: the relationship between Mohammed and Forster is much like the one between Maurice and Alec—they probably had their own episodes about class struggles and "blackmail" in real life—except the happy ending.

3. Um... Did Forster and Bob have a lot of rough sex?

4. Lastly, some mentions of Edward Carpenter and George Merrill in his diaries after Forster became neighbor with them since they moved from Millthorpe to Guilford.

I like how George Merrill is described as "skittish". You'll know it's very characteristic of him if you've read Edward Carpenter's biography on George Merrill.

Context: Moh. refers to Mohammed. This was around 1922 after Mohammed left Forster and got married and then died. We can see that the end of their time together was rather unpleasant.

Source: The Journals and Diaries of E M Forster Vol 2 by Philip Gardner

[sebstanaddict]

Love Song

Sebastian Stan x Female Reader Story

Summary : A romantic comedy story between Sebastian Stan and female reader where we witness their journey after they said I do.

Reader thought Sebastian was still the selfish man he was for not being able to come to his own daughter's birthday party. But he surprised her and managed to come after all, confirming his true love for her. However, his arrival wasn't as perfect as she thought and everything went wrong when the true reason of his attendance came to light.

Pairings : Sebastian Stan x Female!Reader

Chapters : 22/23 (might add more)

Chapter List >

Warning : Fluff, non vulgar smut, angst

Word count : 12.1k

This is a sequel to my first Sebastian fanfic Always You. If you want to understand more about Sebastian's and reader's relationship, please read it first. But it's not necessary to understand this story. Check it here.

---

Chapter 22 - Just Give Me A Reason

Just give me a reason, just a little bit's enough Just a second we're not broken just bent, and we can learn to love again It's in the stars, it's been written in the scars on our hearts We're not broken just bent, and we can learn to love again

Just Give Me A Reason - Pink

---

La Venta Dr, Poway, California - July 13th 2023 - 3 pm

Time seemed to stop as she gazed at him. Nothing and no one seemed to matter but him. The man whom she had never stopped loving since the first time she laid eyes on him 22 years ago. She should have known, she should have guessed. He really was the one for her. He really was the love of her life. He really did love her and him being there proved that.

She forgot that there were a lot of people around them. She put her cellphone in her pocket and immediately ran to him. He stood up after setting Starlene down gently on the grass. He smiled at her and opened his arms wide for her.

She jumped into his arms like a caught fish that was out of the water and somehow found its way back into the water. He was her life, he was her oxygen, and she didn't know how she could've lived without him for all this time.

Her arms looped around his neck and both her legs wrapped around his waist as she buried her face on the crook of his neck. He had his arms around her waist, his nose buried in her hair as they savored the moment of finally being together again.

"You're here.. you're here.. you're really here." she said into his ear, her nose inhaling his signature scent and the usual cologne he wore. Oh how much she missed that about him.

"I'm here.. I'm really here.. sweetheart." He replied gently.

Tears started to pool in her eyes as she leaned back and stared at his smiling face.

"But I thought you had a re-shoot today?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh it's a long story. I'll tell you later." He smiled.

She smiled back and for a moment everything seemed perfect. He leaned closer to her, glancing at her lips, then with a swift movement he captured her lips in his, making her lose her breath.

Home, she was finally home. She would never trade it for anything else. They kissed each other deeply, passionately and for a moment she just let herself drown in him.

"Ahem.." a deep male voice cleared his throat.

They stopped kissing immediately and she jumped down from his arms only to find Anthony Mackie, standing next to them, carrying Starlene in his arms and staring at her with a twinkle in his eyes.

"You two need to get a room." He snickered.

"Oh Anthony, shut it." Sebastian said, laughing.

"Anthony, how are you?" She asked, her face reddened as she gave Anthony a hug.

"Much better now that we're here. I'm getting sick of hearing him moping about how you don't love him anymore." He chuckled.

"Anthony!" Sebastian scolded him.

She laughed as she heard Anthony.

"Oh but it's true, honey. I was going insane not knowing if you still loved me or not." Sebastian said, pouting at her while his hand snaked around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

"Oh Seb. Well, now that you're here I can confidently say that.." she started to say but she stopped as she looked at the figures walking towards them right behind where Anthony was standing.

Her eyes widened as she registered the people walking towards them. Apparently Sebastian had come with his Thunderbolts co-stars. She saw Wyatt Russell, David Harbour, Florence Pugh, Steven Yeun, Olga Kurylenko, Hannah John-Kamen, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Ayo Edebiri and the person with whom she was starstruck the most, Harrison Ford.

"Oh my God, Seb.. you invited them all to come here?!" She exclaimed, her jaw dropped to the floor.

"Uh.. yeah. They were all curious about you and wanted to meet you. And Harrison wanted to meet your dad." He chuckled.

"What have you been telling them about me?" She asked in suspicion.

"Oh nothing.. just that you're the most amazing woman in the world." He winked then gave her a kiss on her temple.

"Oh Seb." She said as she felt warmth crawling from her neck up to her face.

Each of Sebastian's co-stars took turns to shake her hand and Sebastian's mother's hand. It didn't take long for her father to realize they were there and he was so ecstatic to get to meet Harrison in person.

Eventually the party turned into a sudden meet and greet session as each of the party guests took turns to talk and take pictures with all of Sebastian's co-stars. But the most popular celebrity was of course Elmo AKA Sebastian. He took turns taking pictures with everyone in his complete Elmo costume as well as without the top part, delighting everyone.

It wasn't until Diane brought out some cupcakes and snacks that the crowd dispersed and everyone started to gather in smaller groups, chatting and enjoying the food.

Sebastian - who finally took off his Elmo costume because it made him sweat like a pig - and her were talking with Harrison Ford and her dad when Florence Pugh approached them.

"Excuse me.. sorry.. Sebastian, are we still going to do the thing we practiced before?" She asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh..umm.." Sebastian looked back towards Y/n, doubt in his eyes.

"Maybe we don't have to." He finally answered.

"Are you sure? I'd hate to waste that much time practicing only to find that we don't end up doing it." She said, the corners of her mouth turned downwards into a frown.

"Oh.. Flo.." He sighed.

"What are you guys talking about? What did you practice doing?" Y/n asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Uh.. nothing." Sebastian quickly replied.

"Oh c'mon, Sebastian. I already brought my guitar!" Florence pleaded.

"Guitar? Have you been practicing singing or something?" Y/n asked in delight.

"Uh.. yeah. I thought you might still be angry at me so I planned on singing something for you. Flo offered to help me in playing the guitar and be the backup singer." He said, his cheeks reddened.

"Oh my God, really? Well then I want to see it!" She said.

"You're gonna love it! We practiced singing four songs! It's gonna be a mash up!" Florence said excitedly.

"Well now I want to see it too!" Harrison chimed in.

"Yeah, come on son! We all want to see it!" Y/n's father piped up as he clapped Sebastian's shoulder in encouragement.

"Please Iubirea mea. I won't laugh at you. I promise." Y/n said, giving him puppy dog eyes.

"Oh alright. Since everyone seems to want to see me make a fool of myself. Fine." Sebastian said, making everyone laugh.

"Oh you're gonna be great. Don't be so humble." Florence scolded him.

"Now come on!" She said as she beckoned for him to come with her.

"Alright.. alright.." Sebastian nodded and he was met with enthusiastic whoops and cheers from Y/n, her father and Harrison.

Moments later he sat on a stool with Florence next to him on the make shift stage they had set up on the front porch. Florence had her guitar with her and she was tuning it while Sebastian took the time to speak to the guests.

"Hello everyone, good afternoon." He smiled.

"So, I.. uh.. have prepared a little performance for my beautiful wife." He said slowly as he gazed at her while everyone clapped and cheered.

"I wasn't going to do it because.. well.. honestly.. I'm not that good of a singer." He said but he was cut off.

"Oh bull..!" Anthony Mackie exclaimed out loud, making everyone laugh.

"Anyway, Florence talked me into it and my wife said she wouldn't laugh at me.. so.." he said and everyone laughed again.

She really loved this side of him. He really was a natural performer. He was just too shy and too humble sometimes.

"This is for you my beautiful queen." He said and he winked at her, making her heart skipped a beat.

Everyone clapped and cheered and a moment later the guests quieted down as Florence started to strum the first few notes of the song.

Y/n's heart did somersaults as she realized what song he was going to sing first. Yes, she usually heard the song in its original form and not the acoustic version, but she recognized the song anyway.

Summer came and left without a warning All at once I looked and you were gone And now you're looking back at me Searching for a way that we can be like we were before

He was singing Endless Summer Nights by Richard Marx! The memorable song that they danced to the night he first told her about how he felt about her. She closed her mouth with her hand as she felt a tear dropped from her eyes. He could be so romantic. Her heart swelled looking at him as he continued to sing.

Now I'm back to what I knew before you Somehow the city doesn't look the same I'd give my life for one more night Of having you here to hold me tight; oh, please Take me there again Oh, oh

Suddenly Florence changed the keys and added some more notes to the song and she ended up playing a different song. This must be the second song, she thought in awe.

And I swear

If you come back in my life I'll be there till the end of time Oh yeah (back to me, back to me, back into my life) And I swear I'll keep you right by my side 'Cause baby you're the one I want Oh yes you are (back to me, back to me, back into my life)

He was singing If You Come Back by Blue. She shook her head in awe and disbelief. Somehow the song fit perfectly both in lyrics and melody with the first song. Florence and Sebastian really did a good job.

I watched you go Takin' my heart with you, oh yes you did Every time I try to reach you on the phone Baby you're never there, girl you're never home

So if I did something wrong please tell me I want to understand 'Cause I don't want this love to ever end

Sebastian looked at her intently as he sang this part and she knew how sorry he was about what happened between them.

Once again Florence added some additional melody and the song progressed into a third song and everyone cheered. She felt tears streaming down her face as she figured out the next song he was singing. It was If You're Not The One by Daniel Bedingfield.

I don't want to run away but I can't take it, I don't understand If I'm not made for you then why does my heart tell me that I am? Is there any way that I can stay in your arms?

'Cause I miss you, body and soul so strong that it takes my breath away And I breathe you into my heart and Pray for the strength to stand today 'Cause I love you, whether it's wrong or right And though I can't be with you tonight You know my heart is by your side

He gazed at her intently when singing this part and she could feel the pain behind the words. She missed him terribly as well and all she wanted was just to go up there and hug him and tell him she missed him too.

Florence added more progression after this part and she strummed the notes for the next song. When she realized what the next song was, she felt her heart beat so fast and tears continued to stream down her face. The song was I Won't Give Up by Jason Mraz.

And I won't give up on us Even if the skies get rough I'm giving you all my love I'm still looking up

'Cause even the stars, they burn Some even fall to the earth We got a lot to learn God knows we're worth it No, I won't give up

I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make Our differences, they do a lot to teach us how to use The tools and gifts we got yeah, we got a lot at stake

And in the end you're still my friend, at least we did intend For us to work, we didn't break, we didn't burn We had to learn how to bend, without the world caving in I had to learn what I got and what I'm not And who I am

She cried as she heard him sing this part. How so very true to their situation the lyrics were. She couldn't helped but be touched so deeply by them.

I won't give up on us Even if the skies get rough I'm giving you all my love I'm still looking up I'm still looking up

She clapped hard as Sebastian and Florence finally finished performing the mash up. She wiped the tears from her eyes as she stood up and gave them a standing ovation and everyone else followed suit.

He sang that he won't give up and she won't either. He loved her with all his heart and she loved him too. So she went to the stage and without caring that everyone were staring at them, she sat on his lap and hugged him tight, startling him.

It felt as if there were only the two of them in the world as they embraced each other tight while everyone cheered around them.

"I love you Sebastian Stan." She whispered into his ear.

"I love you more my love, my sweet Y/n Stan." He whispered back, making her smile.

---

She thought everything was perfect that day as she watched him play with Starlene on the bouncy castle. But she should have known that nothing in the world was perfect and that day was no exception.

She was sitting on the front porch, sipping an iced tea when Florence sat next to her, bringing a glass of iced tea herself.

"Mmm.. this is so good. What did you put in it?" Florence asked after she took a sip.

"It's peach tea. It's sweet and refreshing isn't it?" She turned to look at Florence and smiled.

"It is. I usually just go for Jasmine or green tea. But I like this one too." She smiled.

"Oh I love Jasmine and green tea too. But I figured I should serve something different today." She responded.

"And I love everything you've served. The food was all yummy. The cupcakes especially. I love the chocolate one." Florence commented.

"Oh yeah. My stepmom made the cupcakes. She used to work at a bakery and I just absolutely love her cupcakes!" She gushed.

"Oh that explains it! I thought they weren't home made. They seemed professionally baked."

She smiled. "They were. We used a high end mixer and she has this special oven to bake them in that is the same brand as the one in the bakery she used to work in."

"Well that explains it even more." Florence chuckled.

"Anyway, your husband is one of a kind. You're really lucky." She continued.

"Oh thank you. Yeah, he can be such a romantic." She smiled again proudly.

"He never stops talking about his daughter and you when we're on set. Starlene this Starlene that, or Y/n this Y/n that. In the end everyone was dying to meet you and Starlene." Florence chuckled and she couldn't help but felt her heart swell at her words.

"I mean, we all hate that the writer's strike happened so that we had to quit production. But if it weren't for the strike we wouldn't be here." Florence continued.

"What? Writer's strike?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah. Since the script for Thunderbolts evolves on set, you know Jake sometimes want to add or take away things and we sometimes do some improvs on set. But because of the writer's strike we can't do that anymore." Florence explained.

"Don't get me wrong. I support the writers with all my heart. They deserve fair pay and all that. But I hate that the strike disrupts production. I mean, now I have to keep being in shape for some extra months." Florence laughed.

She laughed along with her but she couldn't keep away the feeling of annoyance in her heart. The writer's strike? So that's the real reason why he could come today and not because of her or Starlene? She thought bitterly as the realization hit her.

She looked back towards Sebastian who was accompanying Starlene play on the slide on the bouncy castle and was startled at how quickly her feelings towards him change.

She now looked at him with a frown on her face and a heavy feeling in her heart as anger slowly seeped into her heart, turning the perfect day into another bad day.

---

It was 8 at night when everyone finally went home. Her dad's house was finally quiet. Only Shannon and Sebastian's mother stayed behind to help her and her family clean up. Starlene was already sleeping so she could help clean up as well.

She picked up a large trash bag and went to the front lawn and started picking up some trash from the ground. Suddenly she felt a warm body hugging her from behind, making her jumped in surprise.

"Seb! You scared me!" She yelled as she turned around and saw Sebastian's smiling face so close to hers.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I've missed you." He said as he started kissing her neck gently.

"Seb.. stop it." She pushed him away and started to pick up some trash again.

"Honey, just leave all the trash for the others to clean up. Let's just go to our room and catch up." He winked.

As much as she missed him and longed for him, she was still annoyed at him. If what Florence said was true, that Thunderbolts production had been halted because of the strike, that meant he came today not because of her or Starlene, but because of the strike. And that thought angered her so much.

"No." She only managed to say as she continued to pick up the trash.

"Honey, what's wrong?" He asked as he started to help her pick up the trash.

"Nothing." She replied. She wasn't in the mood to talk about it. She was angry at him but she didn't want to start up a fight outside where everyone could hear them.

"Okay. I'll help you clean up then maybe we can take a shower together?" He asked again with a twinkle in his eyes.

"No thanks, Seb." She replied coldly.

Sebastian seemed to notice her change of mood but he decided not to mention it again.

"You know what this reminds me of?" He asked as he picked up a plastic cup and put it into the trash bag.

"What?"

"That time you stayed back and helped me clean up my house after that party where the cops came." He chuckled.

She couldn't help but smile a little at the memory.

"I remember I told you that it would be a great story to tell our grandchildren one day." He reminisced.

"I didn't think we would potentially have the same grandchildren." He chuckled and she couldn't help but smile a little.

"And I remember.. kissing you for the very first time that day. Do you remember?" He continued.

She paused her movement as she remembered the event again. How could she forget? The memory was etched in her mind like a carving to a rock.

"Yeah." She replied, trying hard to erase the memory from her mind. She wasn't going to let nostalgia make her forget that she was angry at him.

"I felt it back then. How perfect it was. How it felt like home." He said gently.

His words were threatening to melt her heart and it was so hard to stay angry at him.

"But, I was still with Stephanie and you were still with Michael. You have no idea how conflicted I was when I knew you broke up with Michael." He chuckled.

Stephanie. The mention of her name returned the anger back into her heart in full force.

She didn't say anything back at him but just continued walking around the front lawn, picking up trash after trash with Sebastian following her like a lost puppy.

"Sweetheart, clearly something is bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?" He asked gently as he reached out and touched her hand. But she jerked her hand back from him and didn't say a thing.

"Well.. whatever it was that I did.. or said.. I'm sorry, sweetheart, I really am." He said as he put his hand on her shoulder but she pulled away and turned her back on him.

She wasn't sure what triggered it, but her chest felt heavy with anger and her whole body ached as swirls of disappointment and anger consumed her heart.

She finally decided to ask him about it.

She turned around and looked up at him. He was looking at her with his eyebrows furrowed full of concern and she could see a slight fear in there.

"Seb, tell me why you're here." She said coldly.

"What? I'm.. I'm here for Starlene's birthday. I want to be here for her.. and for you." He said as he stepped closer to her and placed his right hand on her left cheek.

"Don't lie to me, Seb. Florence told me about it. If it weren't for the writer's strike you wouldn't have been here, would you?" She accused him, staring at him with anger in her eyes.

"Oh honey.. I would have been here too, but.. but maybe two days late." He grimaced.

"I knew it!" She yelled as she took a step back from him and he reluctantly dropped his hand from her cheek.

"Honey, the important thing is that I'm here. I'm here and I came on time for Starlene's birthday." He protested.

"Yeah well that means you still prioritized your job over your family!"

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry but it's Marvel and Harrison Ford we're talking about. I told you I tried to ask for a reschedule but I couldn't. It's a miracle the writer's strike starts today so that I can be here with you. Can't you just focus on that?" He pleaded.

"Seb, you don't get it, do you?" She asked in disbelief. How could he be so thick headed? She thought in frustration.

"Get what, honey?" He asked.

"I just want you to prioritize me or Starlene over your job for just one g*****n time! Is that so hard to do?!"

"Oh sweetheart.. I'm sorry.. I promise.. next time I will prioritize you and Starlene." He said as he took a step closer to her but she was so angry at him that she walked away from him while still picking up trash and throwing them into the trash bag.

"Honey. I'm sorry.." he pleaded as he started to follow her.

"Just leave me alone, Seb." She replied, refusing to look at him.

He sighed. "Okay. I'll be in our room." And with that he slowly turned around, leaving her with her negative thoughts alone.

Ugh! She thought he had changed. She thought he had realized what it was that she needed from him. But he could be so stupid at times!

Yes, she was happy that he managed to come at the right time for Starlene's birthday. But she wished that he had done it by his own will and not because he had no other choice. What was she to him? Just an option he took if there's nothing else available?

His job was still number one for him. There was nothing that could change that for him, she realized. Not even the threat of getting a divorce from her.

Her heart ached as the realization dawned in her. She couldn't help but be reminded again of all the bad things that have been happening to them since the start of their relationship.

As much as she hated to admit it, it really seemed as if they weren't meant to be.

She felt a tear dropped from her eyes.

No, no, Shannon and her mother-in-law were still in the house. She shouldn't cry. She didn't want to make them worry about her or think bad things about her.

So she wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath. She should focus on the task at hand first. Then she would decide on what to do later on.

Just when she was done cleaning the front lawn Sebastian came out and stopped in front of her.

"Honey, I'm going to take mom and Shannon to the hotel. I asked to borrow your dad's car and he gave me his permission." Sebastian said, a slight fear and apprehension still filled his eyes.

"Okay." She nodded.

"I'll be back in like an hour, okay?" He said.

"Yeah. Do whatever you want. Don't bother to come back if you don't want to. Go back to Atlanta or New York if you want, where your jobs are. I don't care." She snapped and she could immediately see the pain her words caused him on his face.

"Sweetheart.. we'll talk later. Okay?" He said while she just stared at him in anger.

He sighed then turned around.

She wasn't sure what had gotten into her. But all she could feel was anger and disappointment at him. All the feelings of love and longing for him were just gone like a puff of smoke.

She tried to bury all the anger she felt as she saw her mother-in-law and Shannon came out from the house and walked towards her.

"Y/n dear, I have to get back to the hotel. My my knees are aching." Sebastian's mother approached her with a grimace on her face.

"Thank you so much for coming Mrs.Frank. And thank you so much for all your help. I hope you'll feel better soon." she smiled at her.

"Oh it's my pleasure, dear. I wouldn't miss my only grandchild's birthday." She said as she embraced her in her arms.

"I'll see you tomorrow, dear." Her mother-in-law said, releasing her hold on her.

"Y/n.. I have to get back to LA tomorrow morning. So, I'll see you when I see you." Shannon said.

"Thank you so much for coming Shannon and for accompanying me the other day." She said as she gave her a hug.

"Oh no problem, Y/n. I had a lot of fun." Shannon smiled as she released herself from her embrace.

Then she watched as they walked away and got into her dad's car with Sebastian already in the driver's seat.

She waved at them as he drove away, feeling a little pang in her heart. Even though she was angry at him she wasn't ready to be separated from him again. Deep in her heart she still missed him. But she couldn't believe that he still didn't change! All the loving words and romance quotes he had conveyed to her meant nothing to her if he didn't come that day because of his own free will.

She sighed as she continued to feel the heaviness of anger in her heart and the ache all over her body.

---

She was lying on the bed an hour later with her right hand slipped underneath the pillow, her eyes fully opened as she stared at the wall. She was contemplating on what to do once Sebastian comes back. She couldn't deny that she still missed him so much but his behavior was unforgivable to her.

She remembered again how in almost all of her romantic relationships her exes always, always chose something or someone else above her. Apparently they left a deep trauma in her heart that she didn't realize she had.

Sebastian was supposed to be the one who finally chose her, who finally prioritized her. And yet, there he was, after only a year, he finally chose something else above her!

What was wrong with her? Was she so worthless that all these men took her for granted and just used her?

The thought hurt her so much and she couldn't help but started to sob.

The door of her room was slowly opened and she could hear gentle footsteps coming into the room.

Sebastian was back, she realized.

She stopped crying and sniffled. She wiped the tears from her eyes and then she felt it. The bed creaked under his weight as he laid on the bed and laid down next to her. She could feel his warm arms around her and his gentle kiss on her temple.

His gesture prompted her to start crying again and she sobbed hard.

"Ssshh.. sweetheart. I'm sorry. I really am. I am the stupidest husband in the world and I'm sorry." He whispered to her ears.

"Ww.. why won't you prioritize me?" She asked in between her sobs.

"Why won't you prioritize Starlene?"

"Oh honey.. I.. I know I have no excuses. I was stupid. I promise you I'll prioritize you both next time."

"Am I so worthless that every f*****g guy I was with chose something or someone else above me? And now you too?" She asked, her voice trembled.

"Honey.. I.. I'm sorry if I make you feel that way. But you're definitely not worthless to me! You're my everything!" He pleaded.

"Words are just words without action, Seb." She responded coldly as she released herself from his embrace and finally turned around.

He stared at her with sadness in his eyes.

"Sweetheart, what can I do to make you see that you.. are.. my everything." He asked as he gently cupped her face between his hands.

She didn't know what came into her. But feeling his warm body so close to hers and staring at his gorgeous face made her forget everything as desire suddenly woke up in her.

She was still angry at him but another side of her wanted him so much, right then and there. She just wanted him to make love to her, make her scream his name into the night and make her heart and body feel whole again after more than a month not being with him.

"Make love to me, Seb. Like I'm the only woman in the world you ever want. Make love to me like I'm the only woman you ever need." She finally said, every syllable that came out of her filled with a desperate need.

His eyes widened and he smiled as desire filled his beautiful eyes.

"Oh sweetheart, you are.. the only.. woman.. I ever want.. and need. No one else.. matters." He said as he kissed her lips gently, once, twice, three times, four times, five times.

And with that he did what he asked her. He made love to her like he had never made love to her before. Every kiss, every caress, every touch to her body was full of love and worship for her as he did what no other man in the world could do to her.

The anger that she somehow still felt for him in her heart heightened her senses and made everything seemed even better. Her disappointment and frustration at him were transmuted so that she was wilder than usual. Which surprised Sebastian.

"Oh honey, this feels so good! Maybe I should make you angry more often." Sebastian commented as they worked together in harmony, trying to reach their peak together.

She slapped his butt playfully and laughed.

"Shut up and just move, mister!" She scolded him and he laughed.

"As you wish, my lady." He smiled and he did just that.

Moments later she felt she was exploding with so much pleasure that she felt like flying. No other feeling was better than this. She thought as she tried to catch her breath, her arms circled around his body as he grunted on top of her.

"I love you so much, my queen." Sebastian finally said breathlessly.

She wasn't sure what got into her but she wasn't able to say it back. The disappointment and anger she felt earlier somehow came back.

"Honey?" Sebastian asked as he seemed to notice that she didn't reply him as quick as she used to.

"I.. I'm sorry, Seb. I'm still angry at you." She said as she pushed him away.

Her heart broke as she saw the pain in his eyes. But she couldn't lie to him. She really was still angry at him. She could feel the heaviness entered her heart again and the ache all over her body. It felt as if the peak his love making gave to her never happened.

He quickly regained his composure and smiled at her.

"Maybe you want a second round?" He asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh Seb. I'm tired. Let's just go to sleep." She said as she scooted a little further from him and turned her back on him.

She could hear him sigh and she felt kind of guilty. But she was still angry at him. She wished he had really come because of his own free will. She couldn't deny that this time the disappointment she felt was so deep and she didn't know how to deal with it yet. Everything just seemed wrong.

"Good night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams." He said as she felt his hand touched hers briefly but then he let her go.

"Good night, Seb." She said and she could hear him sigh.

So close and yet so far. That was what she felt between them. After more than a month of being away from him, she thought she would end up sleeping in his arms like she used to. But she couldn't. She couldn't give up and give in to his warm embrace. Not when she was still so emotional.

Feeling tired and exhausted after what she could only think as a day filled with emotional rollercoaster, she finally fell asleep without his arms around her yet again.

---

La Venta Dr, Poway, California - July 14th 2023 - 7 am

She felt his warm arms surrounding her body before she even opened her eyes. Then she felt his gentle kisses on her temple, cheek, and neck. For a moment she forgot where she was as she enjoyed the sensation and gave in to all the feels his kisses gave her. But then the events of yesterday suddenly came flooding back into her mind and her heart felt heavy with anger and disappointment. She thought she could forget them, she thought she could forgive him in the morning. But she couldn't. Not yet.

She opened her eyes, turned around and pushed him away. She looked up and saw disappointment in his eyes but they quickly cleared and he gave her a loving look.

"Good morning, my love." He smiled.

He didn't dare to touch her again it seemed as he just gazed at her in expectation.

"Morning, Seb." She said coldly then she stood up and went to the adjacent bathroom, leaving him hanging.

She could hear him sigh as she walked away and that made her feel kind of guilty. But then again, his behavior really was unforgivable. She thought stubbornly.

She was hoping that taking a shower would make her feel less angry and annoyed at him. But the moment she stepped out of the bathroom and looked at him - who was sitting on the sofa with Starlene in his arms - she felt the anger and annoyance came back in full force.

"Oh look Starlene, mommy is here." Sebastian said as he looked up at her with a smile on his face. But the moment he saw her expression towards him he stopped smiling.

"Mama.. mama.. " Starlene called out and extended her hands towards her.

She picked Starlene up from his lap and sat down next to him as Starlene started snuggling to her chest, wanting to nurse.

"So.. umm.. as you know, my mom is going back to New York tomorrow. I was thinking that maybe we can take her sight seeing today, see what Poway has to offer." Sebastian said slowly as she opened the front of her clothes and let Starlene nurse.

"Okay." She responded.

"Where do you think we should go, honey?" He asked.

"Lake Poway is a must. There's also Potato Chip Rock. But that's not a good place to go for the elderly or young children as it takes an eight mile hike to reach. So I guess Lake Poway is the only option." She replied.

"Well.. Lake Poway it is." He said, trying to sound cheerful about it. But she knew he was just testing the waters to see whether she was still angry at him.

She just nodded then looked down at Starlene, stroking her cheek gently, avoiding his gaze. She could still feel the anger and disappointment in her heart and she just didn't want to see his face for some reason. Seeing him annoyed her greatly. Something she didn't think she would ever feel towards him.

"Sweetheart.. I.. umm.. I want to apologize again about.. about yesterday." He stammered.

"Uh huh."

"I.. I hope you know that you are the love of my life and there's no one else in the world that I love more than you." He said as he reached out and pulled her free hand up and started kissing her knuckles.

"Yeah. But there's something you love more than me. Your job." She responded with venom as she pulled her hand back from his.

"Oh honey. I.. I thought you understand. Acting is not just a job for me. It's my life calling.. it's.. it's like journalism for you. Like being a bookworm for you. It's not a competition for my love for you. My heart belongs only to you and no one else." He pleaded.

"Yet you sacrificed our honeymoon for it." She snapped.

"I'm sorry, honey. How many times do I have to say this? I'm sorry." He pleaded but she noticed that his tone was somewhat annoyed.

"As many times as needed. Everyday if you have to." She snickered.

"Everything that I have done meant nothing to you huh?" He asked, disappointment clear in his voice.

"Well, like I said. Words mean nothing without action, Seb." She snapped yet again.

"What kind of action do you want!? I sang for you! Did you know how long it took for me to practice singing those songs? I bought you and your family many things that you and your family want. And.. and.. did you know how long it took for me to compile all those quotes and get those books? Did you know the amount of effort it took for me to get you tickets for that David Cook concert? Aren't those actions enough for you?!" He protested.

She felt kind of guilty listening to him saying all those things. But on the other hand she was also annoyed that he still didn't get the message.

"Seb.. I didn't ask for you to sing for me. I didn't ask you to buy my family anything. I didn't ask you to buy me flowers or books or send me on a me-time trip. All I asked was for you to prioritize me and Starlene instead of your job, at least just once! I just wanted you to come to Starlene's birthday and prioritize your family for once. Is that so wrong?!" Her voice shook.

"But I came! I even came as Elmo!"

"I didn't ask you to come as Elmo! I wanted you to come because of your own free will and not because you have no other option!" She yelled.

Starlene stopped nursing and started to cry listening to her angry shout.

"Ssshhh.. Starlene. It's okay, I wasn't angry at you." She said as she started to rock Starlene back and forth.

Sebastian stayed quiet as she tried to soothe Starlene. Too quiet for her liking. She wondered what was on his mind.

"I'm gonna go out and prepare some breakfast." He finally said. He stood up and left the room without looking at her.

She sighed. Great. Now he was angry at her it seemed. Fine. If he wanted to be angry at her then she accepted it. She herself was still angry at him. So be it. She thought in annoyance.

For the rest of the day they barely talked to each other. Even though they all went to Lake Poway to have a picnic that day with her mother-in-law, her father and her stepmom, but somehow they managed not to talk much to each other.

That night they slept side by side but with their backs on each other, neither of them willing to stand down and make peace.

She silently cried as she faced the wall. She never felt more lonely in her life. She considered offering peace first to him. But, if she backed down now she was afraid that he wouldn't get the message and would still prioritize his acting job in the future. So, as much as she wanted to make peace with him, she stayed quiet. She wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to go to sleep.

She could hear him snoring softly behind her. That made her angry again. She thought he would have trouble sleeping like her, yet there he was, sleeping like a baby as if nothing was wrong between them.

Fine. If he could ignore the fight between them and peacefully go to sleep then she can too. She thought in anger.

Unfortunately it took a while but she finally fell asleep, still with the heaviness in her heart and the aches all over her body.

---

La Venta Dr, Poway, California - July 15th 2023 - 8am

She opened her eyes and turned her body to the left, letting her back laid fully down on the bed. She grimaced as her stiff body adjusted to the new position. She glanced to her left, expecting to find Sebastian still sleeping next to her but he wasn't there.

Her heart dropped to her stomach as she saw the empty space next to her. She couldn't believe he would just leave without saying goodbye.

Her mind started to go into panic mode. What if he really left without saying goodbye? As much as she was angry at him, she would still be devastated if he left just like that.

Her mind was in turmoil when she heard the sound of the flush from the toilet.

She released the breath she didn't realize she was holding as she found out that Sebastian must be in the bathroom.

She turned to her right again, pretending to still be asleep as her heart pounded hard in her chest, wondering what Sebastian was going to do.

Moments later she heard the bathroom door being opened then she could hear his light footsteps on the floor. Then she felt the bed creak as he sat on the bed.

"Y/n.. wake up." He said, shaking her body gently.

He didn't even call her with sweetheart or honey like he used to, she thought sadly. He must still be angry at her.

She turned around slowly and opened her eyes. She found him looking at her, his face stone like, unreadable to her.

"Hmm.." she mumbled, pretending that she just woke up.

"I.. I'm going back to New York with my mom today. I feel I need to accompany her. You know she has some problems with her knees. I think it's best that I come with her." He said.

"Oh.. okay." She said as she sat up. Her heart pounded hard in her chest as she digested the information he gave her. He really was leaving her. Her heart broke as she realized what she had done to their relationship. Maybe she should forgive him.

"You can come with us if you want. But if not then that's okay. I'll come back in a few days." He said.

Well, he was coming back in a few days. No need to give up so soon. She quickly changed her mind.

"Seb, I'm sorry but think I need to stay here for a little while." She responded.

For a second she felt like she saw pain in his eyes. But then they cleared and his eyes betrayed nothing.

"Okay. Then I'll come back in a few days. Unless.. unless you don't want me to?" He asked with his eyebrows furrowed.

"It's up to you." She replied and he just nodded in response.

Then he stood up and left the room, leaving her feeling a great turmoil in her heart.

On the one hand she wanted to come with him and go back to their home. Even though she was comfortable in Poway, New York was still her home. But on the other hand she was still kind of angry at him and still wanted to see whether he understood what she wanted from him.

As much as she loved him, she needed him to prioritize her and Starlene. No amount of romantic gesture was enough for her if he didn't prioritize his family over his job. He should realize that.

Armed with that thought in her mind, she stood up and went to the bathroom to take a shower. She still felt the anger and disappointment in her heart and feeling the aches all over her body. She hoped taking a shower would help make the feelings go away.

---

The day went by so fast and before she knew it, it was time for Sebastian and his mother to leave. They were standing on the front porch saying their goodbye as a taxi waited to take Sebastian and his mother to San Diego airport. She carried Starlene in her arms as she stood. Her eyes studied his carefully but his eyes betrayed nothing. He still had the cold statue like expression on his face and that made her sad.

"I'll see you in a few days." Sebastian said as he gave her a brief hug. Then he leaned down and kissed Starlene's forehead.

"Dada.." Starlene said, extending her hand towards him.

"Yes, Starlene dear. I'm sorry I have to go again. But if your mommy wanted to you could have come with me. Unfortunately she still doesn't want to come. So, be a good girl and I'll see you soon, okay?" Sebastian said and he gave her more kisses, on both her cheeks this time.

She sighed as she listened to him. He was still annoyed at her and she was too at him.

He avoided looking at her and stepped back to allow his mother to talk to her.

His mother gave her a warm and long hug as she whispered some words into her ear.

"Please don't be so hard on him. He loves you so much despite everything."

She felt her eyes prickling at her words but she shouldn't cry. If she cried it would change things and she might just end up following him, which she doesn't want to do just yet.

"I'm sorry Mrs.Frank." she whispered back.

"Come back to New York soon, dear." She said as she released her from her embrace.

"I.. I will." She nodded as his mother placed her hand on the side of her face and smiled at her.

"Starlene dear, grandma is going to miss you." His mother said, dropping her hand from her face and leaned close to Starlene. Then she gave Starlene a noisy kiss on her cheek.

"Ma.. ma.." Starlene said, putting her hand on her grandmother's cheek.

"Yes, grandma, I'm your grandma." She smiled as she pinched Starlene's cheek gently.

"Next time I see you I think you'll be able to call me properly." His mother said.

"I'm sure she will." She smiled.

And with that his mother turned around and they soon left in the taxi, leaving her feeling hollow inside.

She watched as the taxi took a right turn on the intersection not far from her father's house and was finally gone from her sight.

For the rest of the day she continued to feel the hollow feeling in her chest, like something wasn't right. Deep in her heart she knew she was supposed to have come with him. But her pride and ego got in the way. She still couldn't forgive him for what he had done despite all the romantic gestures he had done for her. She hoped he eventually understood what she wanted and next time there was a conflict between his job or his family he could choose the correct one.

She was washing the dishes that night after dinner when her father approached her.

"Y/n dear.. I'm sorry but, can I talk to you for a minute?" He asked.

"Yeah sure dad." She nodded as she cleaned a plate with a sponge.

"I couldn't help but notice that you're still angry at Sebastian." He started.

"Uh huh." She responded.

"Do you mind telling me why?"

She sighed and quickly rinsed the plate in her hand with some water then put it on a drying rack.

"Well, he still didn't prioritize me or Starlene, dad. The reason he could come to Starlene's birthday was because there was a writer's strike so that production on Thunderbolts was halted. He came because he didn't have a choice and not because he wanted to." She said bitterly as she wiped her hand with a cloth.

"Oh Y/n dear.. I know that must be disappointing for you. But, I saw the effort he had done trying to win your heart back and what he had done was nothing short of amazing! I've never seen someone so dedicated like that." His father gushed.

"But I didn't ask him to do all those things, dad! I just wanted him to prioritize me or Starlene over his job, just once! And he still wouldn't do it!" She said, throwing the cloth in her hand onto the kitchen table in frustration.

"Y/n dear, I'm sure he had tried his best to reschedule but he's working with Marvel. I mean, that's a whole different beast. You should understand that."

"I.. I know. I just.. I don't know why, but I just feel so hurt and betrayed."

She walked away from the sink and took a nearby chair by the dining table. Her father followed her and sat in front of her.

"I'm sure you do. But personally, after seeing all the things he had done for you, I think it's best that you forgive him and move on. It's not good holding on to a grudge like this for far too long. Especially to your own husband."

"I.. I know, dad. But I don't know, part of me is still unsure about us. He lives such a different life from me with all the traveling around the world to shoot movies and stuff. I.. I sometimes still feel jealous of his co-stars. As much as I hate to admit it."

"Oh Y/n, after what he had done for you I think you have nothing to worry about. I mean, he has like four gorgeous female co-stars in Thunderbolts but the only woman he has eyes for is you. I could clearly see it during Starlene's birthday."

"Really, dad?" She asked, her face reddened a little.

"Yes, really. I'm a man, dear, and sometimes when you're a man and surrounded with beautiful women you can't help but.. how do I say this.. admire them. You know. But throughout the birthday party his eyes almost never left you."

Her heart swelled a little as she heard what her father had to say. But then her stubborn mind took over again.

"But if he feels that way about me, why wouldn't he prioritize me?" She said with a frown on her face.

"His job is always number one for him, dad. I mean, the only time he prioritized me was when I was sick with covid and pregnant with Starlene. Do I need to get into an accident or something to finally get him to prioritize me again?!" She said in frustration.

"Oh dear, please don't say that. I'm sure next time he will prioritize you and Starlene."

She sighed. "I hope so too, Dad. I.. I just can't stop thinking that maybe.. maybe we're just not meant to be together."

"Oh, what makes you think like that, dear?" Her father asked, his eyebrows raised.

"If I look back towards the start of our relationship, I realized that we started off with a rocky start. The whole PR relationship with Ana, then me getting covid, Ana trying to kill us, then the whole fiasco that happened during our wedding. And I've told you everything that had happened during our honeymoon. It's like our relationship is a symbol of bad luck or something."

"Oh Y/n dear, there is no such thing."

"I thought so too, dad. But then, I saw him in his suit before the wedding! We also got married on a Saturday! And then.. his mother gave me a bracelet to wear during the wedding which supposed to symbolize good luck. But her own first marriage fell apart. I just can't help but feel that maybe we'll end up like his mom and his dad." She rambled. Her eyes started to prickle at the painful thought.

"Y/n dear, let me tell you a story that might change your mind." Her father smiled.

"Oh. What story, dad?" She asked as she blinked several times trying to stop herself from crying.

"Forty two years ago I was at Christ Church New Brunswick about to be married to your mother. I was in my dressing room, already in a complete suit. The ceremony was going to happen in half an hour but I got the sudden urge to go to the bathroom." He said.

"Oh okay." She nodded, intrigued.

"I didn't know where the bathroom was. My best man, Jeff, was useless as he didn't know his way around the church either. So I wandered around trying to find the bathroom and I opened one door and.. there she was.. your mother, standing in the middle of the room, looking so beautiful and ethereal in her white dress. I felt like looking at an angel." Her father said and he sniffled. She couldn't help but feeling like she was going to start crying too.

"Anyway, she smiled as she saw me but her bridesmaids and your grandmother quickly closed the door so I couldn't see her again. Your grandmother was so angry at me and even after months of being married to your mother she still mentioned the incident and kept reminding us of the possibility of our marriage falling apart. We understood where she was coming from but we were so in love and we felt like it would never happen. Until we experienced our first big fight. I don't even remember what triggered it. But your mother was so emotional for days and I felt like nothing I did to her was right. She kept getting angry at me over small things and crying for no reason at all. I felt like going insane myself and thought that the superstitions were true. Our marriage was falling apart." He sighed as the memory seemed to affect him.

"What happened then, dad?" She asked curiously.

"Well, it turned out your mother was pregnant with you." He smiled and put his hand on the side of her face gently.

"Oh dad." She could only say as tears fell from both their eyes.

"She was so emotional because she was having mood swings from the pregnancy." He chuckled, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Oh, right." She said, wiping the tears from her eyes too.

Suddenly something seemed to click in her mind. She also felt so emotional for the past couple of days. She thought it was because she really was angry at him. After all, she had a perfectly valid reason to be angry at him. But then again, when she thought about it, her reactions had been too much at times. Could it be that she was pregnant?

Her mind silently calculated and she realized that she had skipped a period. She should have gotten it a month ago but it didn't show! She thought it was just her hormones who were still going out of whack because she was still nursing Starlene. But apparently a pregnancy could explain the absence of her period too.

"Well my dear, you know very well that our marriage stood the test of time until her last breath. So, I beg you not to believe in superstitions. You and Sebastian are meant to be together. Trust me." He said as he stared at her with a meaningful look in his eyes.

"Thanks dad. Thank you so much for the story. And umm.. I just realize that.. I might be pregnant too.. " she said sheepishly.

"Oh my God, that's so amazing, dear!" He exclaimed excitedly.

"I know, dad." She smiled. "I need to get a pregnancy test."

"Well, let me drive you to the drug store downtown. They're open 24 hours. You should be able to get some there." Her father said.

"Okay, thank you so much, dad." She smiled.

He leaned closer to her and kissed her forehead then hugged her tight.

"Everything is going to be okay my dear." He said as he rubbed her back gently.

"Thank you so much dad." She closed her eyes and in her father's embrace she finally felt like everything made sense. There was no need to believe in superstitions anymore. She and Sebastian were meant to be together. And even though he might be so thick headed at times, she knew how much he loved her. She should focus on that and stop being angry at him. And now the most important thing that she should do was to get that pregnancy test.

"Okay, let's go dear and find out if I'm going to be a grandpa again." He said as he released her from his embrace.

She smiled and they stood up. Her heart pounded hard in her chest as the potential of being pregnant again became the only thing in her mind.

---

An hour later she sat on the sofa in the living room, staring at two pregnancy tests she had peed on minutes before. Her father and stepmom sat next to her with her in the middle. Both of them held her hands tight.

Her heart pounded so hard in her chest as she stared at the small windows on the tests that would show the result of the test. Slowly but surely she could see two red lines in the result window of both tests.

Her heart soared as she saw the results and she felt tears streaming down her face as she was hugged tightly by her father and stepmom.

"Congratulations my dear." Her father said, squeezing her body tight.

"Thank you, dad." She sniffled.

"Congratulations dear. So happy that I'm going to be a grandma again!" Diane said as she took turns to give her a tight hug.

"Thank you, Diane." She smiled as tears continued to stream down her face.

She couldn't believe that she was pregnant again! She was going to be a mother again! The thought made her feel both, happy and scared.

"You should tell Sebastian immediately." Her father advised.

"Uh.. yeah. I want to let him know in person." She smiled as she wiped the tears in her eyes.

"Oh, you're going back to New York?" Her father asked.

"Yes, as soon as I can." She nodded.

"Oh I'm so happy to hear that my dear. He's going to be so ecstatic about it." Her father smiled.

"I'm sure he will." She smiled.

Unfortunately going back to New York wasn't as simple as she had thought. All of the flights from San Diego to New York for the next two days had been fully booked. So she was forced to book a flight that would leave in three days.

She wanted to tell him as soon as possible about her pregnancy. But she had no other choice other than to wait. She didn't want to tell him over the phone. She wanted to surprise him. She wanted it to be a whole event because she didn't get the same chance when she was pregnant with Starlene. He found out from someone else and she didn't want that to happen again.

Planning the surprise for him meant that she needed to make sure he wasn't going to come back to Poway before her scheduled flight. Luck was on her side this time because it turned out he had a meeting with Steven Spielberg and Ric Flair. The meeting was scheduled to happen the next week in New York, so her plans to surprise him could still be done, much to her relief.

Her father and stepmom had advised her to go to the gynecologist to confirm her pregnancy, especially since there were some issues with her first pregnancy, but she refused. She wanted to go with Sebastian. He missed the first five months of her pregnancy with Starlene, so this time she wanted to involve him since the very beginning.

Since she had several days to prepare, she decided to do something special to break the news to him. She bought a T-shirt that said "I'm gonna be a mom again". She also bought a T-shirt for Starlene that said "I'm gonna be a big sister". She planned on wearing the T-shirt and have Starlene wear hers so that he could see them when he opened the door of their home. She of course bought him a matching T-shirt that said "I'm gonna be a dad again". She also kept the two pregnancy tests and decided to put them into a special frame.

Despite feeling happy about her pregnancy she also felt kind of sad. Ever since he left with his mother he had not called her at all. He just texted her saying he had arrived in New York safely. After that he just texted her daily but in his messages he just asked how Starlene and her father was. He didn't ask about her at all. He didn't say the usual I love you or I miss you.

She couldn't deny that his behavior towards her broke her heart. He was still angry at her and it frustrated her. But she didn't want to apologize to him yet. She wanted to surprise him and apologize to him in person. She had even prepared a whole speech for him in which she took out some words and quotes from the books he had sent her.

Even though Sebastian clearly prioritized his job over her again, this time she didn't mind. But she of course didn't show it to Sebastian. She pretended to still be angry at him about it and that seemed to make him even angrier that the messages he sent to her became less and less everyday.

Under normal circumstances she would have been devastated at how he had behaved towards her. But knowing that she had an amazing news to share with him kept her going. She also realized with two babies to take care of she needed to take care of herself especially her mental health. So she took some time to meditate everyday before she went and do her daily activities. It seemed to really help her get through each day, especially in keeping her emotions in check.

The days until her scheduled flight to New York seemed to go by in a snail's pace. She couldn't wait to go. She couldn't wait to break the news to him and see his reaction to it. And the day finally came.

She stepped out of the New York JFK airport around 3 in the afternoon, carrying Starlene in a baby carrier in front of her. Her right hand pulled her suitcase, her left hand carried Starlene's diaper bag while her handbag hung around her right shoulder.

She hailed a taxi and thankfully it didn't take long for her to get one. The driver helped put her suitcase in the trunk then she hopped into the taxi with Starlene still in her arms.

She looked out the window as the taxi left the curb and they entered the highway. Soon she could see the tall buildings and skyscrapers dotting the New York skyline. Home. She was finally home.

Her heart pounded hard in her chest as she recited again in her mind the apology speech she was going to say to him. She decided to tell him about the pregnancy afterwards. So she had put on a cardigan to cover the T-shirt she was wearing and she put one on Starlene too.

Her mind continued to run through the scenario that she had planned. She couldn't help but smile as she thought of how he would react. She expected nothing less than him picking her up from the floor, carrying her in a circle and then put her down on the floor again only to give her the most heartfelt and passionate kiss ever.

She glanced at her watch and it was almost 4 in the afternoon when the taxi finally drove into Soho where their apartment was located.

She hoped he was home. She really wanted to surprise him so she didn't contact him at all that day. Well, even if he wasn't home she did have the keys to their apartment. If he wasn't home she could probably give him a better surprise. She even thought of ordering some pizza from Rubirosa to celebrate.

The taxi finally pulled up in front of their apartment. She stepped out of the taxi with her heart racing wildly in her chest.

This is it. She thought as she stood on the sidewalk with Starlene safe in her carrier in front of her and all her belongings safe next to her.

She took a deep breath and entered the apartment. Their unit was on the third floor so she took the elevator to get there.

For the first time ever she noticed that the elevator was moving rather slowly. She clicked her tongue impatiently as the elevator ascended, taking her closer to the love of her life.

Finally the elevator stopped and she heard the usual ding as it stopped. She stepped out and turned right to where their unit was located.

The door of their unit was curiously opened a little. Signifying that he was home. Her heart did somersaults in her chest as she continued to approach the door.

She slowly pushed the door open and smiled wide as she saw him standing in the middle of the living room. But her smile changed quickly and her jaw dropped as she saw the scene in front of her.

Sebastian was hugging a woman. A woman with long blonde hair.

Stephanie. He was hugging Stephanie!?

She felt her heart crushed and destroyed into pieces as she registered the sight in front of her. Everything seemed to go by in slow motion as Sebastian saw her and released Stephanie from his embrace.

"Y/n!" He exclaimed out loud.

No! This couldn't be happening! She spent all this time worrying how he was still angry at her, planning to apologize to him and bring him the news of their second child, but all this time he had been with Stephanie?!

She felt tears streaming down her face as she quickly turned around and ran back towards the elevator, leaving all her belongings behind and only carrying Starlene and her handbag with her.

"Y/n! Wait! Please stop!" Sebastian shouted after her but she ignored him.

She couldn't look at him. No, she couldn't deal with him now. The anguish was too great. The pain in her heart was so unbearable. The only thing she needed was to get away from him. So she continued to run.

She knew the elevator was going to arrive slowly. So she went to the stairs and ran down towards the ground floor with Sebastian still hot on her heels.

"Honey, please stop! I can explain!" He pleaded as they continued to run down the stairs.

"Get away from me Seb! Leave me alone!" She yelled as they finally arrived on the ground floor and she pushed the door of the entrance to their apartment with a bang.

Somehow the taxi that she took to get from the airport to their apartment was still there. So she quickly opened the door, got inside and slammed the door shut.

As soon as she was in she jumped in surprise as Sebastian banged the door of the taxi repeatedly.

"Y/n, please don't go! I can explain! Please! It's not as bad as it seems!" He shouted. His face looked at hers from behind the window, panic and anxiety in his eyes.

She shook her head as tears continued to stream down her cheek, blurring her vision. She locked the door and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Y/n! Please! Open the door! Please!" He continued to beg but in her mind there was no going back. This was it. Their marriage was over. Somehow she was going to end up being a single mother to two children. Something she never thought she would experience.

She never thought Sebastian was that kind of person. She never thought he had the heart to hurt and betray her like this. But then he was just human. She should have known that true love doesn't exist, soulmates don't exist, and that in the end all everyone could think about was their own happiness.

All the loving words he had conveyed to her were just words. The songs he had sang to her were just songs. And the flowers he had thoughtfully given to her were nothing but just flowers. All of them meant nothing. All of them symbolized lies. Lies that she had bought hook, line and sinker.

Her initial feeling that they weren't meant to be was right. And the superstitions were true. Their marriage ended up falling apart. Despite the story her father had told her, her own marriage was still falling apart. She felt numb inside as the realization hit her.

"Excuse me ma'am? Where would you like to go?" The taxi driver turned around and asked, snapping her out of the depths of misery in her mind.

"Oh. Airport please, JFK." She said. The taxi driver nodded.

"Y/n! Please! Open the door and let me in!" Sebastian continued to beg as he tried desperately to open the door.

She turned to face him again and just shook her head. She could see tears started to fall from his eyes. The sight broke her heart and a tear fell from her eyes too.

"Y/n!" He called out to her one last time as the taxi driver pulled away from the curb and quickly left him standing alone.

But she underestimated what he could do when he was pushed. He continued to chase her down the street and banged the door of the taxi.

"Stop! Y/n, please!" He continued to shout while running next to the taxi.

"Ma'am?" The taxi driver asked as he slowed the taxi down.

"Just go quickly, please." She instructed as she ripped her gaze away from him and the taxi driver nodded.

The taxi driver stepped on the gas as they reached an intersection with Sebastian somehow still running by their side.

"Y/n! Stop! Please!" He continued to run following her and the taxi but the taxi became too fast for him to follow that he ended up running behind them.

She glanced at the rearview mirror and saw Sebastian still running fast chasing them.

It all seemed to happen really fast but one second she saw him through the rearview mirror still running behind them and the next second she heard the sound of a loud bang, the screech of tires on the street and he was gone from her sight.

Chapter 23 >

Taglist : @sebsgirl71479 @dhoruwolfie

[not-poignant]

Can you tell us a little about Constellations? Is it just going to be one long chapter like the end of the Ice Plague? Or multi-chaptered like the Gwyn+Augus epilogue after The Ice Plague? I'm so excited to read it either way!!

I sure can!

Constellations is a Gwyn + Efnisien multi-chapter epilogue (or sequel) set almost 10 years after Falling Falling Stars.

The first four chapters (which are already written) are from Gwyn's perspective, and it follows him as he decides he wants to meet with Efnisien again, speak to him, and get to know him as a person vs. as the person he knew.

I'm calling it a Gwyn + Efnisien epilogue, because it's not going to be about Augus, it's not going to be about Arden, and we're not going to be seeing them much except as supports specifically in the theme of Gwyn and Efnisien kind of learning how to become family again. In that sense, it's more of an epilogue rather than a true sequel, imho. But I think it will be at least 10 chapters long.

The only other add-on I've thought about seriously writing is a Dr Gary + Efnisien 'talking about Henton' epilogue, and I'm not ruling that out either. But if I do that, it will be a separate story.

It commences on September 10th on Patreon (in the $10+ tiers) and then will go to AO3 around two months later so it'll be freely available then. I can only release one chapter a month, similar to The Nascent Diplomat, since I have so many other active stories right now, but I couldn't wait any longer.

Things I can probably safely share now are:

Gwyn finally has a good therapist. He's aware that he can be toxic and abusive.

Augus also has been to decent therapy and has maybe realised he's done some shitty things to Efnisien in the past too

We'll find out what Efnisien's doing at university these days.

We'll find out what Efnisien's mature fashion sense is like!

They're still not perfect, but they're trying

It will have an extremely hopeful (and happy) ending

It's possible some chapters will be from Efnisien's perspective too, but right now I felt it was important to show Gwyn's thinking and how much it's changed (and how it hasn't).

There will be no BDSM scenes between Efnisien and Arden

There will be no therapy sessions between Efnisien and Dr Gary (though Efnisien might be seeing a different therapist now!)

There will be no BDSM scenes between Augus and Gwyn

It's definitely not a story focused on BDSM or sex, and more focused on a family relationship, rather than a romance relationship.

I'm really excited about it too, anon :D