Paper Planes

epilogue 0.2

"And...here...we...go..."
—Heath Ledger

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I present to you:
The longest chapter I have ever written in my entire life.

Seriously. This shit is insane.

Consider this a short sequel, I suppose, because I'm honestly not quite sure if I'll write another bonus chapter/epilogue. But, as usual, no promises... I can't seem to tear myself away from the beautiful world I've created. I hope you guys love this as much as I do. I worked incredibly hard on it and I'm so very excited to share this piece!

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The Napier's

Word Count: 11,778

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Ember Napier awoke rather early on a Sunday morning, her deep slumber discourteously interrupted by a lustrous beam of sunlight, which slivered through the substantial crack present in the indigo curtains.

The woman cracked a single eye open, forehead crinkled in bewilderment as she observed the abundance of light that enveloped the bedroom. It couldn't have been later than nine in the morning, and even then — in Gotham, at least — hardly any sunlight would peek through the clouds at all.

An irate sigh slipped through her parted lips, fingers elegantly curling around the hem of the comforter as she abruptly tore it from her body. Insistent patches of goosebumps arose on her bare flesh, courtesy of the sudden shift in temperature as she openly shivered.

The woman intently rose from her slumber, curled fists vigorously rubbing away the sleep from her eyes as her blurred vision eventually focused on a very nude individual laid slump beside her.

Naturally, a toothy grin encaptured her features at the sight of none other than Jackson Napier, his flawless features masked by a thick layer of smeared greasepaint. He lay beside her in all his glory, every article of theatrical clothing absent as the pieces of fabric lay in multiple heaps on the carpet, scattered in diverse directions where they had been discarded several hours prior.

Viridescent curls lay sprawled outward in opposite directions against the pillow, beautiful brown orbs hidden behind heavily painted eyelids as the comforter circled his left leg, scrunched and wrinkled at the surface as he lay completely exposed.

The woman felt immediately drawn to the man she called hers, pulse quickening beneath her ribcage as trembling fingers pranced along his warm skin, tickling the flesh of his belly as his broad chest evenly rose and fell with every deep breath.

Just as Ember began to inch closer, realisation dawned upon her:

They were in hers and Noah's bedroom.

"What the fuck?" The woman mumbled, utterly perplexed at the odd choice of location as she stumbled out of bed. Her manicured fingers laced around a baby blue satin bathrobe, shaking fingers hesitantly tugging the material up the slopes of her arms as she glaced a final time in Joker's direction.

He looked so magnificent — So absolutely gorgeous in every single aspect. A majority of the gaudy greasepaint had been rubbed away, most of it currently residing sporadically on Ember's skin. Nearly all of the red had dissipated, transferring to the destroyed flesh of the womans neck as she ran the pads of her fingers along the bruised surface.