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buckyalpine · 2 years

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Teach Me

18+ Minors dni

Bucky x inexperienced f reader

A/N: Writing for the lovely @chrisdrysdale writing challenge. Might add a part 2 please leave all the comments and thoughts!! Always love to hear what you think!

Prompt: 7. Sleep princess, you need it

Warnings: smut (fingering, mutual masturbation m & f, lil daddy kink) swearing, fluff

Word count: 3.7k

You groaned, falling back onto the bed, letting your head bounce off the pillow. You felt frustrated but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was bothering you. It had been weeks of this nagging feeling, like you were missing something, a craving left unsatisfied. But you didn’t even know what you wanted. Everything in your life was normal. As normal as it could be, being one of earths “mightiest heroes”. You looked over to the clock. 1:16 AM. You were definitely not going to fall asleep anytime soon. Usually you would toss and turn until it was time for training but this time you decided to get an early start instead. No one was usually up at this time, so you looked forward to a good workout unbothered by anyone else. You threw on your sports bra, some shorts and an oversized t-shirt, heading towards the training room.

As you entered the gym, you could already hear the thumps and grunts from someone hitting the punching bag. Your heart rate picked up slightly at the sight of a shirtless Bucky throwing punches, his knuckles bleeding and bruised though that didn’t seem to bother him. His breath was heavy, his back glistening, sweat trailing down his back. His sweats hung low on his waist…dangerously deliciously low. If he turned around, you’d see his Adonis belt and what you wouldn’t do to just lic-

“What are you doing here at this time doll?”

Bucky broke you out of your trance. You felt heat travel to your face, now wondering if he had caught you staring. You gaped like a fish, completely forgetting why you were at the gym at this hour.

“You heard me come in?”

“The serum. Enhanced hearing” He smirked. He didn’t just hear you walking in. He saw the flush of your cheeks, noted the increased heart rate. He could practically smell how aroused you were.

“Oh. Couldn’t sleep, haven’t in weeks. Thought I’d get a workout in instead of staying in bed”

“Ah, what’s been keeping you up?” “I’m not sure actually. Just feel like I’m high strung all the time even when I’m tired. Even now, I’m exhausted but I just never feel relaxed enough to get some decent sleep”

Bucky noticed the way you nervously bit your bottom lip, as your eyes flicked down to his lips, then chest and then down to his…

“I think you’re just sexually frustrated doll” Bucky looked down at you with a shit eating grin on his face.

“BUCKY!” You were definitely already flustered but somehow your face flushed more. You felt like you were on fire from what he just said.

“I’m just saying! When was the last time you’ve gone out on a date anyway?” Bucky was genuinely curious. If you were not out on a mission, you were most definitely somewhere around the compound with a book or scrolling through TikTok.

“I don’t know, like 8 months ago? It didn’t go anywhere though” You cringed, recalling your painfully awkward date Aaron. 3 drinks in, he began to sob over his ex from 5 year ago. You had reluctantly agreed to be set up on a blind date by one of your friends. She insisted you were the perfect match. You were no longer friends with her. You had also lost all hope in dating.

“Why, did he not know what he was doing” Bucky smirked, his interest piqued. You glared at him, wanting to flick the stupid smirk off his perfectly handsome face.

“Not everything is about sex Barnes” You scoffed, mentally hitting yourself for deciding to workout at this hour. This is why you should be lazy.

“That’s what you’d say if he was bad at it” Bucky took a step closer to you as you breath hitched in your throat.

“Well I wouldn’t know” Now your eyes were looking everywhere except him. You could feel him eyeing you up and down in your overly flustered state. He was enjoying this. Bastard.

“So you guys didn’t…..” “No.” “So…how long has it been since…” Bucky’s eyebrows wiggled up and down, the shit eating grin plastered back on his face.

“Seriously? What are you going to do with this information?”

“I’m just trying to get an idea!” Bucky threw his hands up in defense.

“Shut up perv” You were not about to disclose your nonexistent sex life with him. Bucky cocked his head to the side. He wasn’t going to let this go until he got an answer. “2 years” You mumbled.

“2 years?!!” Bucky’s eyes grew wide as you glared at him. “Sorry, just. WOW. Wow.”

“Yes, my sex life is awful, will you please move on so I can actually finish what I came here for”. Honestly, you didn’t need a workout anymore. Bucky had made you sweat and increased your heart rate more than the treadmill ever did.

“Okay, okay. What about by yourself, you know…” “You’re so gross oh my god!” “Everyone does it” The humor in Bucky’s face disappeared as he looked at you dead in the eyes. He was being serious.

“I do! It’s just…It’s not great okay?”

“How do you mess up self pleasure?!” At this point Bucky was genuinely confused. He could understand someone else not knowing what to do but surely you knew how to take care of yourself.

You loved saving and caring for others. You just never bothered to do the same for yourself. Every time you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Your hands would fumble around for a few minutes, and then you’d stop. It embarrassed you, and the fact that you felt embarrassed over something so normal and natural embarrassed you more.

“I don’t know how! It’s not like the guys I’ve been with before were amazing to even try and get off thinking about them”

“Why them, think about someone you’re attracted to now” Duh. “It feels embarrassing trying to imagine myself with someone who wouldn’t look twice at me in that way. So I never did….that. Are you happy now?” What pained you the most was the crush you were harboring on the super soldier. You had seen the girls he dated and whatever his type was, it wasn’t you.

Bucky felt his heart sink. You were stunning; he couldn’t imagine a single person that would say otherwise. He felt a pang of anger, wondering who put those thoughts in your head to make you feel this way in the first place.

“I don’t mean to overstep here but you’re beautiful doll. Anyone can see it”

“Whatever you say Barnes”

You rolled your eyes as your body continued to feel like it was set ablaze. Bucky was a charmer, he made everyone blush, from the barista at Starbucks to the little old lady at the corner shop. There was no way he actually found you attractive.

“I’m serious. No wonder you can’t sleep, you’re pent up. I could show you what to do” Bucky took another step towards you; you could feel his warm breath fan on your face, his eyes gazing into you.

“What are you, a sex guru?” You snorted “What are you going to do Barnes, teach me how to touch myself?”

“Sure”

You burst out laughing and immediately stopped when you saw Bucky was being completely serious.

“You can’t be serious. Maybe you know what you’re doing in bed but you’re telling me you also know how to show someone else how to touch themselves?”

“No one’s ever complained about my hands before, I can show you how to use those pretty fingers on yourself doll”

Dreaming. You must be dreaming. There was no way in hell this conversation was actually taking place. You were curious though. Very curious.

“Fine” you smirked. There was no way he’d actually take up his own offer. “We’ll see if you actually know what you’re talking about” “I always keep my word baby”

Bucky smirked at you, watching you leave the gym to go back to your room. He wasn’t sure what the hell just happened. He always kept his feelings for you at bay. He had seen decent guys approach you, only for you to turn them down seconds after speaking to them. If you weren’t giving guys like that a chance, he wasn’t willing to risk anything. Except now.

You paced around your room wondering how the hell you got yourself into this situation. He wasn’t actually going to come up here. You sighed, still blushing over the interaction you just had, changing out of your gym clothes and throwing on the oversized t-shirt you slept in. You started to get into bed when you heard a knock at the door. Jumping out of bed, you did a quick once over in the mirror before opening the door.

“Hey doll”

Bucky had showered and changed into a plain black t-shirt and grey sweats. This man was going to be the death of you.

“Hey Buck, you actually came” The surprise was evident in your voice as you opened the door to let him in. “I told you I always keep my word baby, but only if you want to” Bucky gazed down at you but it wasn’t out of lust; it was out of adoration. You walked over and sat at the edge of your bed, your knees pressed tightly together. You suddenly felt overwhelmingly self conscious, realizing that he was right there. In your room. Right now. You looked at the floor as Bucky closed the door behind him.

“Hey, look at me. Its normal, you don’t have to be ashamed of anything. If you feel uncomfortable we can stop and this conversation never happened” He kneeled in front of you so he could look at you, only sincerity in his words.

You shook your head. You didn’t know what to expect when you agreed to this, but you were certainly not expecting him to be so…understanding. His blue eyes showed nothing but concern and care for you. Your heart skipped a beat as your cheeks flushed. You could feel butterflies making your stomach flip. Fuck, you wanted this.

“I want this….for you to show me….”

Bucky sat up on your bed against your headboard with his legs crossed. He took your hand, pulling you towards him.

“Lay back on me princess”

You shifted to sit on his lap, still feeling tense.

“Here, just relax baby” Bucky hands gently caressed your arms, wanting you to feel comfortable.

You relaxed your body against him, your heart racing a million miles a minute. Part of you wanted to back down, tell him this was a stupid idea and he didn’t have to put himself through this for you. But another side of you wanted this so bad, the one person you had almost touched yourself to soo many times, stopping because it felt so unrealistic he’d see you like that.

Your room had a large bed with a full length 3 panel mirror across from it. Your entire body heated up looking at yourself in just your t-shirt, splayed on Bucky’s lap. His eyes flicked up, meeting yours in the mirrors reflection. He’d give anything to be with you like this every single night.

“You look beautiful like this”

Your breath shuddered, your voice shaky as you spoke “You said a lot, what did you plan on showing me”

Bucky smirked, grabbing your hand in his, guiding it down to the waistband of your panties. “This okay?” Again, your heart skipped a beat. He never overstepped, always making sure you gave him consent before going further. You nodded, arousal already soaking through.

Keeping your hand in his, he pushed down till your fingers were between your soaked folds. Gathering the slick, he moved your hands up to touch your clit, his own fingers on top guiding yours to move in gentle circles. You whimpered, biting your lips holding back the moans that wanted to slip out.

“Just like that baby, rub your clit like that for me”. Bucky removed his hand, letting you continue.

“Apply a little more pressure baby” Bucky could see you needed more, your hand desperately trying to move, your panties restricting your movements. “Can I take these off” Bucky’s hand moved to the waistband of your panties. You nodded, lifting your hips up so Bucky could slide them down your legs. You had already come this far but you felt exposed with nothing covering your lower half, suddenly pressing your legs together so Bucky wouldn’t see you.

“Don’t baby, you’re so beautiful,” Bucky rubbed the sides of your thighs, as his hands slowly slipped in between, guiding you to open them. “Spread your legs for me baby, look at how pretty your pussy looks” You almost felt light headed at the sight you saw in the mirror. Your lower half was on full display; Bucky was looking right at you from the reflection. His fingers started to play in between your folds to smear your arousal around. He took your hands back in his, bringing your middle and ring finger to gather the slick that had pooled around you.

“Push one finger in baby”

You paused, having never done that before. Bucky sensed your hesitation as he felt your body tense up. His lips were right by your ears “Here princess, it’s okay” He took your hand again, instantly feeling you relax. You let him guide your finger, pushing it in and out until you found a pace you felt comfortable with. Bucky was losing his mind seeing you like this. He wasn’t sure what aroused him more, the way you looked in the mirror draped across him, the fact that you were doing all this while sitting in his lap or the fact that you trusted him to be so vulnerable with him.

You started to get lost in your thoughts, forgetting Bucky was even there. You whimpered, your finger moving in and out of you as you closed your eyes, imagining Bucky ravaging you on the floor of your bedroom. Bare, clothes torn off, his cock wrecking you for anyone else. He saw the way your eyes started rolling back getting lost in the pleasure of your fingers.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about” Bucky groaned, his mind going foggy. He really did just want to help you get off, but a selfish side of him wanted to ravish you. He wanted to know how filthy you could get, to hear every single dirty thought you had in your head.

Still deeply lost in your thoughts, his name fell from your lips. He shifted, feeling his cock stiffen, nearly cumming on the spot. You could feel your climax building, unconsciously grinding your hips in a tandem against Bucky’s hardening length. “Are you thinking about me?”

You weakly nodded. His breath hitched in his throat when you threw your head back onto his shoulder, your breaths getting heavier. Your chest was rising and falling, nipples poking through the thin material of your t-shirt. “Need more Bucky” You moaned as you grabbed his metal hand to your core, hissing as his cool fingers started playing with your swollen desperate clit. You guided his other hand up your shirt to play with your tits. “OH fuck!” Your hips bucked up, trying to press against his hands, needing more, you were desperate chasing your release. “Please Bucky, more, please” You grew more whiny and needy, guiding your hand on top of his, till his fingers reached your sopping hole, already dripping onto the sheets. “Fuck baby you’re so wet” Bucky whimpered, feeling his heart racing. You were the most beautiful sight he had ever laid his eyes on and you were spread out on him begging for more. He must be dreaming, God he didn’t want to ever wake up. “You sure baby?” “Please daddy” The name slipped out without a second thought, it drove Bucky feral. Without warning he plunged two fingers into you, pushing them in and out while his thumb pressed down onto your clit.

“M’ gonna cum” You whined, your hips grinding onto his hand, and pressing back onto his throbbing length. Your movements caused Bucky to grip your hips to keep you in place. “This is about you baby, if you keep moving on me like that, I’m not going to be able to control myself, you gotta stop baby” He couldn’t take it anymore, his cock was leaking with arousal, he so badly needed you. You pressed back into him wanting to tease him more. “Touch yourself daddy” The blue in Buckys eyes were nonexistent. His eyes were dark, filled with lust with what you had just said. He pushed you off, causing you to fall forward. You turned around to lay back and propped yourself up on one arm on the opposite side of the bed while Bucky threw off his sweats. His grey boxers had a dark patch from all the precum that had you caused. He was huge, his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers. He tugged them own letting his cock spring free, hitting his abdomen. He sat up against the head board again, nearly drooling as he watching you lying down across from him. Your eyes were heavy with lust.

“Show me baby, touch yourself the way daddy taught you” Bucky tugged at his length slowly, wanting this moment to last forever. To have you like this, so bare and vulnerable, he was struggling not to cum on the spot. Fisting his cock while his metal hand gripped onto the headboard, sweat beaded at his forehead as his thumb swept over the tip of his leaking cock acting as lube.

You felt like you were floating on air. Watching Bucky touch himself pushed you over the edge, your climax approaching hard and fast. You let your fingers gather the slick that was soaking the sheets, rubbing your clit in circles “Bucky, m’gonna cum baby”

Bucky wanted to capture every single curve and dip of your body. Every single movement as you moaned and arched off the bed. He couldn’t believe he got to see you like this. Your hips rose from the bed, legs squirming and you continued to press down onto your clit to prolong your building orgasm for as long as you could. Your moans softened to whimpers as your body continued to convulse, desperately trying to hold off so you could watch him for longer.

“Come here baby” Bucky grabbed your ankles so you could be closer to him. Your thighs were on top of his, your core close enough to grind on his length. This had to have been the horniest he had ever been, he had stopped touching himself multiple times because he knew he wouldn’t last long. Your fingers were lazily playing with your clit, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you tried to silence your screams. Bucky reached forward to pull you up. His hands played at the bottom of your shirt as he looked at your for permission. As soon as you nodded, he ripped it off, throwing it across the room. You lay back down across from him. “Fuck daddy, so close, need to cum baby please” your jaw hung slack as you watched Bucky pick up the pace on his cock. A slow dribble continued to pour from the tip as he started to chase his high. “God baby, you look so fucking beautiful like this, keep doing exactly that, fuck y/n, go faster” Your fingers were rubbing frantic circles on your swollen clit, teetering on the edge of your orgasm. Your thighs quivered on top of his. “Need to cum with you doll, holy fuck I’m gonna cum” Bucky threw his head back, straining against the headboard. His metal hand came down to grip onto your thigh, needing to find a way to ground himself.

“M’ gonna fucking cum y/n, can’t hold it, let go baby, please, cum with me y/n” “OH FUCK DADDY” You could feel your walls flutter and convulse, arousal gushing out of you. You moved slightly forward so your clit could press firmly against Buckys balls, moving your hips lightly to grind against him. You felt waves and waves of endless pleasure and euphoria wash over you. Tears spilled onto your cheeks as you continued to cry out for him, scratching the sides of his legs. “Baby I’m gonna cum, fuck gonna cum so fucking hard for you babydoll, God I want to watch you like this all day. Fuck I’m cumming, m’ cumming, FUCK y/n!” Bucky sped up his pace, fisting his cock, focused on the swollen and sensitive tip. He could feel his balls heavy with cum, eyes were squeezed shut. His head was thrown back as endless ropes of cum spilt onto his abs and chest. His breaths grew heavy as he continued to lazily stroke his cock wanting to make the moment last forever. You fell limp onto the bed, floating in a post climax haze. Bucky sat up, gently pulling you up so he could tuck you under the sheets beside him. “Fuck you’re so beautiful when you cum”

Your haze started to fade as you registered Bucky’s words, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He cupped your cheek, brining your face up to look at him. “I’m serious. You’re so gorgeous doll” His gaze caused your face to heat up, as you shook your head, biting your lip looking away from him.

“I’m not-

Bucky stopped you, grabbing your face in his hands making you look at him.

“I meant it when I said you’re beautiful. Not just here like this. Always y/n”

You were back to your flustered state, unsure of what to say. “Thank you..for this..uh, showing me” He gave you the best orgasm of your life and he had hardly touched you. Bucky smirked pulling you close to him, his lips brushing yours.

“I want to show you so many things baby”

You giggled, feeling a wave of sleep wash over you. You yawned, relaxing in his hold, letting sleep take over.

“Sleep princess, you need it”

This was just the beginning.

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implexedactions · 4 years

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Penance is a virtue

Yandere!Enji Todoroki x Reader

Enji Todoroki is many things; kidnapper, lover, sadist, hero, villain, husband. He is many, many things. But he isn’t delusional.

Beta-Read by best person: @absolute-flaming-trash

Warning: Yandere content and themes, Angst, Heavy emotional themes, Suicide, Stockholm syndrome, Kidnapping.

---

You wake up, eyes dashing to the clock.

5:55 AM - SUNDAY

Okay, good, you hadn’t slept in. Enji always wanted you to wake him up. He got...mad if you didn’t. You turn over to him in bed, expecting to find him still sleeping.

Teal eyes stare back at you instead.

“Ah!”

His face takes on a sorrowful expression.

“Did I frighten you? Sorry. I could not sleep.”

Not leaving you time to respond, he pulls you into his chest, under the covers. He sighs in content, and you press into him, not wanting him to forget your devotion.

After some time, he pulls you up to his face, kissing your forehead gently.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“U-uh, what do you mean? Are you okay?”

Enji sighs, failing to meet your gaze.

“I never do compliment you that often...”

---

He carries you to the breakfast table, adorned with pancakes, your favourite.

“What’s going on Enj- I mean, dear. I’m meant to make you breakfast?”

He fails to answer you, instead sitting down with you on his knee. He takes a fork and puts some pancake on it.

“Eat.”

And so you do.

When you finish, he moves to wash up.

“W-what are you doing? You told me that was my job.”

Your memory wanders back to your first few months here, when you disobeyed his every command...and received due punishment for it.

“Are you going to punish me again?”

It escapes your lips before you can stop it. The thought of being punished again, like before, makes your veins cool with fear. Your breathing increases and you move down on your knees onto the cold kitchen floor.

“P-please, I swear, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t-”

“Stop.”

He walks over, his thighs the same height as your head. You move to undo his belt, but a hand puts a stop to that.

“There is no punishment. I am just doing an acceptable act for my spouse.”

The words “but you never do that” get stopped in your throat. You instead swallow and try to weakly smile. Looking up at Enji from your position on the ground, sunlight bathing him in a warm glow, to contrast the unsettled expression on his face.

---

He places you on a stool while he washes up. You fiddle with your hands, nervous. This isn’t how Enji usually acts. He’s so...vulnerable. In all honesty, it’s scary.

“Do you like the sunrise, my sweet?”

You look out to the orange glow emanating from the windows.

“Do you want me to like it, my sweet?”

Enji simply sighs and continues washing up.

“I’m sorry you cannot enjoy it. One should always appreciate what they have...”

---

After breakfast, he walks silently to the study. You follow behind him perfectly, like he trained you to.

He walks into the study, sitting down at his writing desk, and you take your place in his lap. He pulls out pen and paper, and you avert your eyes.

It isn’t for good spouses like you to read.

He spends the better half of 6 hours writing. You entertain yourself by tracing the pattern of the wallpaper. This evolves into focusing on Enji’s breathing, noticing how he breathes in more, not less when he becomes frustrated with something on the page. You eventually move on to thinking about all the things you miss from the outside world, like ice cream, and human connection. You finish out the last hour by thinking about how angry Enji would be if he knew such a perfect little spouse were thinking such nasty little things.

Shuffling about, he motions for you to hop off his leg, and then stands and leaves the room without speaking to you. You get the feeling he’s coming back, though; he left the door open.

You’re worried. You’re scared beyond belief. This isn’t like him, this entire day is wrong. You’re hoping he’ll burst in and start yelling, the anticipation feels worse than any potential punishment. You consider that maybe this is the punishment and that you should perhaps just start apologising regardless. He didn’t take well to that before though.

This day has made little sense. Enji is acting so far out of his usual behaviour that it doesn’t just scare you because he might hurt you. It scares you because you don’t know what is even happening. It takes you back to the days you first came here—a blurry, hazy mess. You struggle to even remember it. You remember bits and pieces. Chains, fire, the cold, the scent of sex. Small things like that.

You turn your head to the papers on the desk, intrigued by what took up so much of his time. Before you can look away, you see what they are. Letters, addressed to countless people, your parents, Shoto, Rei, Hawks, various news stations.

You glance towards the open door...surely what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him right?

You pick up the letter to the Hawks.

Keigo, I write this letter to you as a mentor, and I presume a father figure. I know that in some capacity, you looked up to me. You were just a scared kid, and I helped. That said, if what I have done becomes public knowledge, do not defend me. I do not know how much you know of my dealings, but for the sake of your future, throw me to the dogs. Do not say that I was perfect, or that I did no wrong. When I turn and look at my darling, I see my mistakes for the damning judgments they are. You will be a fine no.1 hero, just let go of your predecessor. Please.

That alleviated little concern. Undeterred, you move onto the letter to the media.

To all the news channels and gossip rags that haunt this city like the festering ghouls you are, I detest you. You created division, turned heroics into a popularity contest, seeded doubt during a time where we needed hope, and fought so hard to bring us all to our knees. I know my story will vilify me, so I accept my place in the burning flames of hell. Just know that when you get down there, I will be waiting to enact justice.

You are practically hyperventilating now. You grab the letter to your parents. You don’t know what these letters are, but they seem like-

The letter is snatched away from your hands. It appears you forgot to watch the door.

Turning around, tears in your eyes, fear in your veins, half-baked excuses running rampant in your mind. You expect to see vengeful Enji with a glint in his eye, telling you it is time for your punishment. Instead, you find an apathetic Enji, eyes soft and watery, stance broken and exhausted.

“I did not want you to see that. I am sorry that you did.”

Enough is enough, you want answers. Pushing against your instincts, you stammer out a question.

“W-What is going on? Why...why are you like this?”

He seems taken aback, eyes opening wide. This minor act of defiance, of speaking out when not spoken to, is enough to break you. Falling to your knees, you look away from him. Aghast that you even thought of defying his wishes.

“I’m sorry! Please, forgive me! I didn’t mean to question you like that! Or read the letters! Please! I didn’t- I don’t-”

A calloused hand grips your shoulder.

“Please. Stop.”

You look up to see Enji’s eyes, dull and watery again.

“Sorry.”

“Trust me, I am sorry too.”

---

The afternoon is spent on the couch, watching TV in Enji’s lap. He seems to notice your nervous disposition, as he slowly envelopes you in a hug the more the hours go by. Eventually, he gets up to make dinner by himself, much to your unvoiced dismay.

You simply stare as he makes it. Both of you silent. He occasionally looks over to you, as if to make sure you haven’t merely vanished into the ether. You feel like you might vanish into the ether, honestly.

You move to the dining table, and a couple of minutes later, he brings out dinner. Silent, he sits down beside you, but a hand stops you from eating.

“Tell me, do you remember when we first met?” he sounds...hopeful.

“Is...Is this a trap?” you ask cautiously. This entire day has put you on edge.

“No. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“I...I can’t remember it, really. Most of those months are...blank, I remember a few pieces of my first couple of months here. They’re admittedly not pleasant memories.”

“I see.”

“I mean, I appreciate that you did those...things you did to me! If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be any good at my job.”

He turns to you and raises an eyebrow.

“Your job?”

“Yeah, loving you, being your spouse.”

“Ah.”

Both of you go quiet. You wait on the signal to start eating. It doesn’t come.

“It was a gala event. You told me how much you hated them, and I laughed and agreed.”

“Ah. Gala’s sound so wonderful, don’t they though? Being outside, getting to dance, to listen to beautiful music.~”

You sway slightly thinking that you could have once been permitted to be a part of such a magical event.

“You may eat now.”

Enji’s command breaks you out of your daydream. He watches as you take your first bite, and follows in kind.

---

When you finish, he seems restless. He gets the plates and puts them in the sink. He then takes you to the living room. He fiddles with a speaker for a couple of seconds, before classical music emerges.

“You said you cannot remember our first meeting, and by extension our first dance. I was wondering, would you like to dance with me?”

Confused, but delighted, you join Enji in the embrace. Softly dancing around the living room, you try to imagine what it was like meeting Enji for the first time. He must’ve seemed so sweet, right? That’s how Enji would come off to a stranger, right?

You lose yourself in the moment, allowing yourself to imagine a life outside of these walls. You would’ve met Enji at the Gala. He would’ve laughed. He would’ve given you his number, the gentlemen that he was. He would’ve taken you to a fancy restaurant for your 1st date. You could’ve shown up at his agency while he was buried under paperwork once, and it would’ve made his day. You could’ve kissed him under the rain, snickering as you pulled away and saw droplets evaporate on contact with his blushing face. He would’ve proposed in a quiet place, with a brilliant ruby. You would’ve met Shoto, and figured out what his deal was. You would’ve grown old together.

But this life is just as beautiful, right?

Enji leans down during the dance and kisses you. Softly, unlike all those times before. It’s beautiful to you. And based on the silent tears running down his face, it’s beautiful to him too.

He pulls you down onto the couch, staring into your eyes as the soft music plays.

“I’m sorry, my love.”

“What for?”

“For a lot of things. For kidnapping you. For...training you. For punishing you. For breaking you, beyond belief. For so many, many different things. You are not the person I fell in love with, you are hardly a person. I broke you, I gutted your personality until all that was left was a shell, echoing any command I gave it. You do not have a soul anymore.”

He pauses, seemingly debating over this next part, ignoring your shaky and scared reassurances.

“And I am also sorry for the poison in our food tonight.”

Your world shatters at that.

“The fatal effects should kick in soon enough. It will not be a nasty death. Even in death, I intend to remain dignified. Or at least, I wish to preserve your beauty.”

You cannot vocalise anything, your mind is failing you. From either the poison or situation, you are unclear.

“There is an antidote on the kitchen counter. If you can get there and drink it, you will live. And if you are feeling ever so generous, you may even give some to me.”

He turns and looks you in the eyes.

“My only command is that you do not get that antidote.”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me. Disobey me, and save yourself. Or obey me, and die.”

He shrugs.

“I did say I was sorry.”

“I-I...why?”

“Like I said. You are a shell. If you get the antidote, maybe I have not entirely broken you, maybe you can still be saved from my conditioning. If you do not get the antidote, I get to make Dabi just that little bit happier.”

You try to get up and into the kitchen. You really try. Your arms try to push up. You try to move off the couch. But...that feeling of fire licking at your body...it’s paralysing.

You instead collapse back onto the couch, and Enji sighs.

“Can you hold me?”

“Sure, my sweet.”

His arms pull you into his body. You feel yourself getting more and more tired.

“I’m sorry...I couldn’t be...what you wanted...”

“I am sorry I could not be what you wanted either...”

#yandere #yandere enji todoroki #enji todoroki #reader insert #yandere enji x reader #gender-neutral reader #boku no hero x reader #enji todoroki x reader #enji x reader #yandere enji #boku no hero academia #yandere endeavor #endeavor #ImplexedWriting

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hawkss-whore · 3 years

Text

(photo credit: currynim_ on twt)

Thigh Riding (NSFW 18+)

Hawks gets home very annoyed, you assumed he had a hard day at work. You walk over to him trying to see what’s bothering him. And before you could even finish your sentence he kisses you. It was a rough kiss, almost as if he was releasing his frustration through that kiss.

y/n: Hawks, what’s wrong? You oka-

Hawks: Shhh babybird I just wanna kiss you right now, I want you to be the only thought in my mind

Hawks continues to kiss you roughly. He then starts moving you guys into the living room. You both move through the house as you continue kissing, not once taking your lips off of each other. He undoes his tie and starts to tie it around your neck. He then tightens it and chokes you a bit.

Hawks: Oh babybird, you have no idea how much I want you right now. Now, I want you to be a good girl and ride daddy’s thigh.

Hawks then sits on the couch while still holding the other end of the tie. Before even really giving you a chance to respond he tugs on the tie and pulls you closer to him. You end up hovering over him, your lips just inches apart. He pulls you closer and whispers in your ear.

Hawks: Do it, I know your body’s aching for some friction. You have permission to ride daddy’s thigh

You start to lower yourself onto his thigh. Once you do, you start moving your hips back and forth, slowly getting the hang of it. He grabs your waist with his one free hand and guides your movements, you start moving your hips faster. You were both just getting really into it when his phone rings.

Hawks: Oh shit man that was today? *pause* Okay yeah sure we’ll be there in a bit

y/n: Who was that?

Hawks: It was Dabi, I had completely forgotten we had planned a double date with Dabi. We have to hurry and change

y/n: We can’t just reschedule it?

Hawks: No, it’s a nice restaurant that takes forever to get reservations in so we can’t miss this opportunity

y/n: Awww but we just got started *frowns*

Hawks: Hmmm you know what, let’s continue this then

y/n: But how you said we have to go on the date and that we can’t cancel it?

Hawks: Oh we're still going

y/n: But then how are we gonna continue this?

Hawks heads over to a drawer and starts looking for something. You sit on the couch waiting. You then see him pull out something pink. You were confused at first but soon realized what it was

Hawks: You are gonna wear this while we are at the date

y/n: A vibrator?? On a double date?? Are you serious Hawks? What if we get caught??

Hawks: That’s the fun part, and if you don’t wanna get caught just keep quiet and we’ll be fine

You were hesitant. I mean what would Dabi and his date think if he were to find out that you had a vibrator in you? What excuse could you give? But then again, the riskiness of it all turned you on. So, you ended up agreeing with Hawks. After putting it in you walk out of the bathroom, flustered of course while Hawks looked like he was having the time of his life

Hawks: Did you put it in?

y/n:*looking down* Y-y-yes

Hawks: Hmmm okay

Hawks then turns the vibrator on, it surprised you so you jumped up a bit. You look at him annoyed

Hawks: I just had to make sure you actually did. But of course, since you’re such a good girl and you always do what daddy says I knew you did.

y/n: So you turned it on knowing I had put it in just to mess with me??

Hawks: Oh you shouldn’t be that mad, wait till we get to the date. You’re gonna become a real big mess I can promise you that. Now let’s hurry before we’re even later than we already are

You and Hawks head to the double date. Before entering the restaurant you look up to see it. It was so big and it looked so expensive. It looked TOO expensive. You wondered how much the food costs. You didn’t even wanna imagine. But you and Hawks head in and then get seated with Dabi and his date. Hawks gives an excuse as to why you two were late because obviously, you couldn’t say why you were ACTUALLY late. The date starts off smooth, you order food, wait for it to get there, and just conversate. When Hawks decides to turn your vibrator on. You jump up, you had completely forgotten you had a vibrator in you

Dabi: Hey you good y/n?

y/n: Yeah sorry just got a chill, I’m fine

You look at Hawks with an annoyed expression while he's smirking at you. You knew this was gonna be a long date.

Throughout the date, he would catch you off guard by either turning it back on after he turned it off or hiring the vibration levels while you were talking. You started stuttering a lot and it was becoming hard to catch your breath. You tried your best to not make it obvious and you think you did a decent job. At one point Dabi’s date decided to go to the bathroom. Dabi then immediately looks at you and Hawks.

Dabi: I see what you guys are doing. You really couldn’t wait to get home?

y/n: Huh? What are you talking about?

Dabi: You think I’m that stupid? I can tell they have a toy in them that Keigo is controlling. Keigo makes it so obvious because every time he uses it he immediately gets this smirk on his face followed by you struggling to stay calm

Hawks: I have no idea what you’re talking about Dabi, me and y/n are doing absolutely nothing besides enjoying this double date. Isn’t that right y/n?

Hawks then decides to instantly higher the vibrator to its highest setting. You grip onto his thigh to stop yourself from giving a big reaction

y/n: Y-yeah, we’re just enj-joying the date

Dabi: God you guys suck at this. Y/n really couldn’t make it any more obvious, she’s stumbling over her words right now. And look at her face, she’s making such a sexual face

You all pause. The table is filled with silence. You were trying so hard to compose yourself that you hadn’t even realized Hawks and Dabi were both looking at you. They both had this fire in their eyes. At that moment you knew things were about to get interesting.

Dabi: How about this, what if we say fuck this double date thing and the three of us head over to your apartment and continue the fun there?

y/n: But what about your date?

Dabi: I didn’t like them anyway, I just didn’t know who else to bring. They’re more of a friend

Hawk: Alright then, sounds fine to me. What about you songbird, are you okay with having both of our attention on you?

You sat there in silence. You didn’t know what to say. At this point, you were really aroused because of Hawks and the thought of having two guys focused on you didn’t sound so bad. God if I wasn’t so horny maybe I would've said no

y/n: Okay, as long as you’re date is fine with us ending the double date here

Dabi then talks to his date when they get back from the bathroom. He says that we all have to get up early tomorrow and that time just didn’t work out. He said he was gonna come with us because his house is close to ours. So with that, we said goodbye to Dabi’s date and headed home. You were nervous on the way home. Dabi ended up sitting in the back seat while you and Hawks were in the front. Suddenly Hawks turned on the vibrator again, catching you by surprise.

y/n: Hawks can you fucking focus on driving instead of the damn controller!

Hawks: What are you talking about, I am focused on driving. And I don’t even have the controller, I gave it to Dabi

You look back at Dabi with an angry look

Hawks, Dabi, and you continue the ride back to your & Hawks place. The walk to your apartment was relatively quiet which calmed your nerves a bit. But as soon as the door was shut behind you, you felt both Hawks and Dabi come onto you. There was no hesitation, their hands were all over your body. It went 0 to 100 real mother fucking quick. All you could hear ws heavy breathing and slight moans.

Hawks carries you to the bedroom with Dabi right behind you both. He puts you on the bed with you on your back, and not a second later they both start taking their shirts off. You see Hawks get something from Dabi and then you remembered, you still had the vibrator in you and Dabi was the one that last had the remote. You realize things were gonna get hot real quick.

Hawks move on top of you, teasing your nipples and sucking on them. Dabi sits right behind your head and you could hear him unbuckling his pants. But were quickly distracted by Hawks slowly moving down your abdomen. He then stops just above your hips.

Hawks: You look so adorable when you are hot and bothered. Now, prepare for a bit of overstimulation my love bird.

Hawks then starts eating you out. He turned the vibrator on. He wasn’t lying about overstimulating you. You were struggling to catch your breath when Dabi decided to tilt your head back. He held his cock just above your face.

Dabi: Open your little mouth whore and take all of my cock

You do as he says and he shoves his cock down your throat, you choked a bit as it went in too deep all at once.

Dabi: Awww can the whore not take it? Open your throat up and take my cock. I want you to put every inch of it in your mouth

You cough and choke, tears started coming out of your eyes. Your mind was foggy from being overstimulated by Hawks and from sucking Dabi’s cock at the same time. You were lifting your hips up as Hawks was eating you out. As you were about to cum, Hawks could tell so he pulled the vibrator out and put it against your clit. The vibrations made you orgasm really quick, your eyes started rolling in the back of your eyes as you were struggling to get your eyes to focus. While you were trying to get yourself together you heard Hawks and Dabi talking.

Dabi: Hey now don’t go hogging her hole like that, I want a bit of that pussy too

Hawks: Oh well I want her hole too, luckily she’s got two holes for a reason

And without hesitation, Hawks lifts you up off the bed and holds you up in missionary position. Then you saw Dabi making his way to where you two were. Dabi and Hawks both then lift you up. Hawks starts inserting his cock through your ass while at the same time, Dabi inserts his cock in your pussy. Then all at once, you were slammed onto both of their cocks. You let out a moan from being overstimulated so quickly.

Dabi: Aww the whore can’t take our cocks?

You then replied to his comment, you wanted to show that you weren’t so weak.

y/n: Y-yes I can

Hawks: Good girl, of course you can. You wanna please us don’t you?

y/n: Yes I-I do

Dabi: Yes what?

y/n: Yes daddy

Hawks: That’s a good slut, now take these cocks like a good girl now

They both started simultaneously fucking you at the same time. It felt so good. Especially Dabi’s cock piercing. It added more friction inside and also added stimulation since it was cold. You were moaning like there was no tomorrow. You felt so amazing, thanks to both Hawks and Dabi. You then placed your hands on Dabi’s chest and he seemed stimulated by it. Then Hawks whispered in your ear from behind you.

Hawks: Oh right babybird, I guess you might not know this. But our burnt friend over there is EXTREMELY sensitive around his scars, so have fun with that

You caught what he was tryna say. So, you started kissing his chest and his reaction was almost immediate.

Dabi: H-Hey watch where your kissing

Hawks: What are you gonna say it doesn’t feel good burnt bitch? *laughs*

Dabi: Watch your mouth birdie, wouldn’t want to s-see those wings of yours b-burnt

Hawks: Wow can’t even talk now can we? Y/n you’re doing an amazing job, keep it up

So you do, you keep kissing around his scars and every now and then switching it up by licking and sucking up his chest to his neck. Dabi then lifts your chin up and kisses you. He starts using tongue, trying to avoid you from going back to giving his scars attention. He then whispers in your ear.

Dabi: Hey you know Hawks is VERY sensitive in his wings. Why don’t you play fair and make him a bit of a mess too?

At that moment Hawks thrusted roughly into you, catching you off guard you let out a loud moan.

Hawks: Oh my bad, I tripped and accidentally went too far in. Hope our pretty bird isn’t hurt *laughs*

Dabi: I doubt, she is a slut after all

Hawks: Oh but she's our little slut, our cute little toy

At that moment you reached one hand back and started stroking the shoulder of his wings. And Dabi was right, they were quite sensitive

Hawks: *moans* W-what are you doing kid. Watch w-where you put that hand

Dabi: Oh look who the mess is no-

You then started kissing Dabi’s scars while you were still stroking Hawks wings. They were both messes. You did that, you had turned them into a moaning mess. Although you yourself were also a mess from their cocks.

You three continued this back and forth sexual fight for what felt like hours. You slowly started losing your strength and had trouble doing anything besides just staying in their arms while they penetrated you. They started to take notice and mentioned it.

Hawks: Aww babybird don’t worry, just a bit longer. You’re doing such a good job at pleasing us love

Then, Hawks and Dabi placed you on the bed with your back to the bed. They both stood in front of you and cumed on your stomach. They both exhaled in relief from that long awaited orgasm and you laid there trying to catch your breath.

Hawks: Aww look at you, such a cute little mess. But I’m gonna go get a towel to clean you up

While Hawks went to go get a towel Dabi lifted you up and carried you to the middle of the bed. He set you down and lied next to you. And without you noticing he instantly fell asleep. Hawks then walked back into the bedroom with a wet towel.

Hawks: Did he seriously fall asleep already?

y/n: Seems like it *smiles*

You stroked Dabi’s hair

Hawks: He's Like a huge ass burnt baby I swear. Well let’s get you cleaned up and then we can get some rest too okay

After Hawks cleaned you up he climbed in bed and laid on the other side of you. You held both Dabi and Hawks in your arms, caressing their hair. And you slowly started drifting off. You were exhausted and obviously the boys were too. You all fell asleep snuggled up together.

#mha fanfiction #dabi todoroki #touyahawks #keigo takami #hawksdabi #hawks mha

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saturatedsinset · 2 years

Note

7, 8, 19, 23!! pssst mwah

mwah!!!

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

uhhh god i don't know. Vibe. atmosphere. love a good weird metaphor. i think people consider me good at getting the Headspace right, i get a lot of compliments on characterisation + internal monologue. do others agree??? god only knows

8. Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

ummmm yes and no? i really hate writing sex scenes but i love reading a good plot-heavy sex scene. but also i have successfully bullied like every wrestling pal i have to write in the ffau. so.

19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)

YEAH god fuckin. absolutely. i feel like i describe touch as "not quite gentle" all the fuckin time like i Get it you're conveying that one party thinks something different is going on here than the other one but like!!! get more words for it!! as i've mentioned before i've had a fair folk au in every single fandom i've ever been in, so there's that in general. i also - just, undernegotiated or Bad kink in general, tasty tasty for me. that's all i got

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

oh i like this question. hmm. resurrection fic i started just before adam cole debuted in aew. FACE REINVENTION 2 i've been meaning to write fr2 literally since like a week after i posted face reinvention. 5+1 adam transes her gender i started like two days after i posted sunshower. uhhh matt warm blood-alike i've been thinking about since march 2021? so. face reinvention and matt kink. although if you're including posted fic in this i was fucking. we had the idea for the fucking. piss fic. and then enj bullied me for Eighteen Months until i caved and wrote it

#kennyanimega #i'm in love w you <3 #meta asks

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kjack89 · 4 years

Text

Personal Gain (Chapter 5/6)

Yeah, it’s definitely gonna be six chapters.

Happy Halloween! Hope you are all having a fun, safe celebration!

Modern magic AU, developing E/R and Courferre. Read Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here, Chapter 3 here and Chapter 4 here (or catch up on AO3).

The key to most physical magic with inanimate objects was understanding that at least one of the components was once alive. Sure, it was several million years back in some cases, but as the quote went, ‘we are all stardust’ blah blah blah.

Courfeyrac didn’t remember the exact quote, but the sentiment was what mattered. And the sentiment was what was going to allow him to break into Enjolras’s apartment.

All it took was a little persuasion to remind the metal in the lock that it had once lived in the earth before it was dug up and smelted, and it was easy enough after that to politely request that it unlock for him. Combeferre had tried to figure the process out once and almost had a nervous breakdown; he’d had an easier time understanding one of Joly’s stranger theories of magnetism.

But the important thing was that it worked, and Courfeyrac slipped into Enjolras’s apartment, a handful of already-spelled, nondescript crystals ready to cast and maintain the spell that would finally force Enjolras and Grantaire to admit to each other what they thus far had refused to.

Courfeyrac grinned triumphantly as he glanced around. He already knew Enjolras was out, having sent Combeferre to meet up with him for coffee, and Grantaire and Bahorel had a standing boxing match to keep him occupied, which left Courfeyrac with about forty-five minutes to get the crystals placed and ensure the spell was cast.

He doubted it would take him even a fraction of that time.

Four crystals were carefully placed in the cardinal sides of the apartment: along the north wall, tucked on a bookshelf behind a few first year law textbooks that Courfeyrac doubted Enjolras had opened in close to a decade; as far east as the apartment went, dropped into the tank of the toilet in the bathroom (Courfeyrac couldn’t help but giggle as he did so); in the south of the apartment, placed behind the alarm clock in Enjolras’s bedroom; and the west, in the kitchen pantry behind a stack of expired ramen.

“Disgusting,” Courfeyrac said, wrinkling his nose as he shifted the ramen packets back into place. “Hopefully Grantaire actually feeds you real food when you two finally get together.”

The fifth and final crystal went in as central a location as Courfeyrac could manage, hidden in the pot of some houseplant, almost certainly a gift from Jehan at some point, that Enjolras had not yet managed to kill. After Courfeyrac pressed the crystal into the soil, and ran his fingers over the leaves, frowning at how dry they were. “Perk up,” he ordered, passing some vitality into the plant, the leaves almost instantly perking up and greening.

Satisfied, Courfeyrac straightened, glancing around the apartment. There was something odd about it, something Courfeyrac couldn’t quite put his finger on, and he frowned slightly, trying to place what felt like it was missing. Then his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he dug it out, reading the text from Combeferre. Enjolras ended coffee early. He’s on his way back. Get out of there.

Courfeyrac slid his phone back in his pocket and glanced around one more time. “Alright, one last test,” he said aloud. He paused, trying to think of what to say. “I hate—” The words seemed heavy in his mouth, and he couldn’t seem to get out what he was trying to say.

Meaning the honesty spell was working.

He nodded officiously and headed out, closing the door after him with a satisfied snap. He placed his hand on the door, the wood grain warm underneath his palm. “Thank you,” he whispered, grinning as he heard the lock slide back into the place.

His job there was done. Now all he had to do was wait.

----------

If he was being honest, Courfeyrac expected for Enjolras and Grantaire to walk into the next Les Amis meeting holding hands and blushing as they told their friends that they were dating.

“You’re an idiot,” Combeferre told him as he glanced expectantly at the doorway, almost vibrating with excitement.

“Better an idiot than a cynic,” Courfeyrac shot back.

Combeferre gasped with mock-outrage. “You take that back, he said, and Courfeyrac grinned, thought he straightened when he saw Enjolras.

Who came in alone.

Scrolling through his phone.

And looking like absolutely nothing was different.

“Told you so,” Combeferre muttered, and Courfeyrac elbowed him.

“Hey Enj,” he said brightly as Enjolras approached. “How are you doing?”

Enjolras just grunted as he sat down, not looking up from his phone. “Did you see this about the 8th Circuit Court of Appeals and vote by mail ballots in Minnesota?” he demanded, gesturing at his phone as if Combeferre and Courfeyrac could read whatever was on his screen.

“Uh, no,” Courfeyrac said, glancing over at Combeferre, whose expression was resigned. “Have you seen Grantaire recently?”

“Huh?” Enjolras said distractedly. “No, uh, I actually have seen him in a few days.”

Now Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged startled looks. “Really?” Combeferre asked doubtfully. “Did you two have a fight?”

“The only fight that I have is with the courts and their asinine rulings,” Enjolras said with a scowl, still looking down at his phone as he furiously typed something.

Combeferre cleared his throat and stood, gesturing for Courfeyrac to join him. “Care to explain?” he asked when they were out of Enjolras’s earshot.

Courfeyrac shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe Grantaire’s been busy?” he suggested. “It just seems like they haven’t spent a lot of time together recently, and this plan relies on them being together.”

“It sure does,” Combeferre said, with something like disapproval. “And, uh, did you consider what would happen if they didn’t spend any time together?”

Courfeyrac stared at him. “Look, even if they’ve fought recently or something like that, Grantaire will wander back into Enjolras’s apartment eventually.” Combeferre didn’t look convinced and Courfeyrac nudged him. “C’mon. Trust me. It’s only been a few days. It’ll be fine.”

Combeferre opened his mouth to say something but at that moment, Joly, Grantaire and Bossuet spilled into the room, all seeming in their usual good spirits, and Courfeyrac glanced over at Combeferre, smirking slightly. “See? He’s just been busy.”

“If you say so,” Combeferre said, following him back to their seats.

----------

Two weeks later, Courfeyrac was beginning to think that Combeferre was right, and he hated when Combeferre was right.

Enjolras was just as distracted as ever, barely spending any time at Les Amis meetings before disappearing, assumedly to his apartment, and Grantaire seemed to be spending most of his time with his other friends, his mood getting darker and darker as the days went on.

Whatever fight they’d had, clearly it was enough for Grantaire to be avoiding Enjolras’s apartment, thus casting doubt that Courfeyrac’s plan was going to work.

“How long is this going to go on for?” Combeferre asked Courfeyrac in an undertone as Enjolras discussed something about Poland’s abortion ban with Feuilly while Grantaire watched them, nursing a beer, his expression dark.

Courfeyrac sighed, stirring his drink with his straw. “Well, the spell only lasts for about two more weeks before I’d need to renew it,” he said with another sigh. “But I don’t want either of them to spend two more weeks like this.” He scowled as Grantaire drained his beer. “I don’t know why this is happening. This plan was supposed to be foolproof!”

“In fairness, you didn’t plan for Enjolras and Grantaire having some kind of fight that’s kept Grantaire from going to Enjolras’s apartment,” Combeferre said reasonably. “Maybe you can talk to Grantaire, see if you can find out what happened and, you know, fix it?”

“What, use my magic on whatever they’re fighting about?” Courfeyrac asked skeptically.

Combeferre gave him a look. “I meant talking to him and getting him to make up with Enjolras. All magic aside, you’re generally pretty good at that.”

Courfeyrac considered it. “Well, it can’t hurt,” he agreed, tossing back his drink and going to join Grantaire. “You look like you need a refill,” he said by way of greeting, and Grantaire looked up at him, smiling slightly.

“You read my mind,” he said, standing up and grabbing his empty beer bottle before following Courfeyrac to the bar. “Though I think I actually need a stronger drink rather than a refill.”

“Yeah, you looked like you had something on your mind,” Courfeyrac said, leaning against the bar. “Something happen with you and Enjolras?”

For a moment, Grantaire’s expression seemed frozen, then he snorted, picking at the label of his empty beer bottle. “You, uh, you noticed that, huh?” he asked gruffly.

“Pretty hard not to,” Courfeyrac said evenly. “But this seems worse than your usual fights.”

Grantaire sighed. “Honestly, I’m not even sure that we’re having a fight. I don’t know what this is, or what I did, or...anything, really.”

Courfeyrac frowned. “What’s going on?”

Grantaire shook his head slowly. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Everything was going fine – great, even – and then all of sudden…” He trailed off as the bartender brought him a shot and a fresh beer, flashing her a tired smile before picking up the shot. “Sláinte,” he said, toasting Courfeyrac with the shot before downing it. “All of a sudden, it’s like Enjolras didn’t even want to be in the same room as me. Like he didn’t want anything to do with me.”

Courfeyrac’s insides ran cold. “But didn’t he…” He trailed off, trying to figure out a better way to ask the question that didn’t reveal too much. “I thought he was spending a lot of time at his place?”

“All his time!” Grantaire burst, looking miserable, and Courfeyrac blinked in confusion.

“But—” he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“And I thought I was doing the nice thing, letting him keep his place, y’know? Because I know my schedule can get weird, and so can his, and even though living with him is all it feels like I’ve ever wanted, I also want him to have his space when he needs it, but if I had known he was going to spend all his time there—”

Courfeyrac opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Thankfully, Grantaire didn’t seem to notice, well caught-up in a rant now, his anger and sadness and fear mingling in his expression. “He has not slept in bed with me for over two weeks. He barely looks at me – I don’t even remember the last time we kissed.” He broke off, swallowing hard, and Courfeyrac was horrified to see tears in his eyes. “I swear to God, Courf, he is the love of my life but I don’t think I’m his. Not anymore.”

Courfeyrac’s stomach was somewhere around his knees, and he clutched the edge of the bar to keep himself upright. Grantaire was looking at him as if expecting him to say something, and Courfeyrac cleared his throat before asking weakly, “Uh...when?”

He had meant it to be more elegant, and for a moment, when Grantaire just stared at him blankly, he thought desperately of ways he could clarify his question, but it was too late. “He didn’t even tell you?” Grantaire asked quietly, and Courfeyrac winced.

“He- well, that is- see, the thing about Enjolras—”

“He didn’t even tell you?”

Grantaire no longer looked sad – he looked pissed. “We start dating six months ago, move in together over a month ago, and he doesn’t even tell one of his best friends?”

Courfeyrac hesitated. “I, uh, I don’t think Combeferre knows either.”

Grantaire eyes flashed. “Son of a—”

“But I’m sure Enjolras was planning on telling us!” Courfeyrac added hastily. “At some point. Probably.”

But Grantaine just shook his head, his expression stony. “He wasn’t,” he said. “I should have realized it was too easy. When Enjolras said he wanted to try this thing for real, I didn’t believe him at first, but I thought, what the hell? What’s the worst that could happen? And then after a few months when he told me that he loved me, that he wanted to take this to the next level and move in together, it was everything I ever wanted, so I didn’t question it, but I...I should’ve realized…” He trailed off. “Well, I should’ve realized it was too good to be true.”

He grabbed his beer and turned to leave, but Courfeyrac reached out and grabbed his arm. “He loves you,” he blurted, and Grantaire just shook his head, not looking back at him.

“He couldn’t even be bothered to tell you, one of his best friends, that we were dating. That we were living together.” He shook his head again. “I don’t know what that is, but it’s not love.”

“He didn’t tell us about you because he loves you.”

Now Grantaire turned to stare at him. “What are you talking about?”

For one brief, desperate moment, Courfeyrac thought about using his magic to get himself out of this – a quick illusion spell, or a temporary forgetfulness, something without too lasting of effects so he could get out of there and figure out what the hell he was going to do.

But he had already caused this, with his spell that was meant to get them together and instead had driven them apart.

And he owed Grantaire to tell him, if not the truth, then at least something that might help. And his magic wasn’t going to help him with that.

“Enjolras loves you,” he said, as honestly as he could. “You two are perfect for each other, and everyone knows it. Probably before you both did. He loves you, and he doesn’t know what to do with that, because he’s him, and you’re you. That’s why he didn’t tell me and Combeferre, because if he tells us and it all falls apart with you— He wouldn’t know what to do with that either.”

Grantaire shook his head slightly but didn’t try to interrupt, and Courfeyrac barrelled forward. “He loves spending time with you. Why do you think you two have spent so many late nights together at the Musain, or his old apartment before you moved in together? How many times have you two got into a knock-down, drag out fight that should’ve ended with him banning you from Les Amis but never has? Because he wants you there, wants you in his life.”

Though Grantaire’s expression had softened, just slightly, he still didn’t look convinced and Courfeyrac took a deep breath before continuing. “Look, I know Enjolras. Almost better than anyone else. And he would not have taken that first step with you, let alone moving in together, if he was not 1000% convinced that this was what he wanted. That you were who he wanted. That you were the first person he wants to see each day and the last person he wants to see at night.”

For some reason, even though Courfeyrac was talking about Enjolras and Grantaire, he kept thinking about Combeferre, of all the time they had spent together in the past several weeks – the past several years, if Courfeyrac was being honest.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on that right now. “I know things between you and Enjolras are weird right now. But I promise, if you hang in there, things will get back on track for you.”

“When?” Grantaire asked, a little desperately.

“About twenty-five minutes, give or take,” Courfeyrac muttered, thinking of how long it would take him to get to Enjolras’s apartment and neutralize the attraction spell.

“What?” Grantaire asked, his brow furrowed, and Courfeyrac shook his head and forced a smile.

“Let me buy you a shot,” he said. “To, uh, help pass the time until things get better.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Courfeyrac nodded. “Yeah,” he said firmly. “How about—” He caught sight of a familiar-looking bottle and couldn’t help but smile, just slightly. “How about a shot of Jäger?”

Grantaire wrinkled his nose. “Pass,” he said dismissively. “I can’t stand Jäger.”

“Really?” Courfeyrac asked. “I didn’t think there was any alcohol you didn’t like.”

Grantaire laughed. “Understandable, but, God no. I hate licorice.”

Courfeyrac opened his mouth to reply but froze, something rising unbidden in the back of his mind. Licorice root – star anise – ginger – ginseng...all flavors in Jäger.

And all components of the love potion he had used on Enjolras.

The love potion Combeferre had watched him make.

“Earth to Courf,” Grantaire said loudly, and Courfeyrac blinked, looking back at him. “You buying me that shot or what?”

“Uh, yeah, here,” he said, opening his wallet and tossing a few bills on the bar without looking. “Sorry, I— there’s something I have to go do.”

Grantaire’s brow furrowed. “Everything ok?” he asked.

“Fine,” Courfeyrac said, digging his cellphone out his pocket. “Or at least, it will be.”

He didn’t wait for a reply from Grantaire, already weaving through the crowd toward the door, typing a text message as he did.

Meet me at Enjolras’s. We need to talk.

>>Read chapter 6 here>>

#exr #courferre #enjolras #grantaire #courfeyrac #combeferre #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #magic au #developing relationship #chaptered #part 5

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sakura--stories · 4 years

Text

2/17/21

“Where is my son?”

“I can’t tell you that,” the Patrol growls. His jaw twitches. “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t.”

Arya twists around, quick as a snake, drawing a knife from her coat pocket, and in a fluid motion, slitting the man’s throat.

He makes a noise that sounds somewhere between a choke and a cry, red staining his neck like an unnatural smile, before he gives one more retch and falls silent.

“We need to go,” Arya says. Her eyes don’t have the light of sadistic joy, or the horror that I’m sure are in mine. They’re hard as flint, hard as stone.

“She’s right,” Deneb says, and I’m surprised to find xem agreeing with her. “They’ll bring more reinforcements. We have to get back to the ship.”

I don’t want to admit it, but they’re right. Nobody says anything else, and for a few minutes, the only sound is of heavy breathing and shoes hitting the concrete walkway.

Arya sits against the mast of the ship, her expression unreadable. The knife has disappeared back into her jacket, but when I look at her, it’s all I see.

“I had to do it.”

“Why?” I ask. I’m not afraid of her. “He said he didn’t know.”

She takes a deep breath. “He’s a Patrol Captain. He’s killed people before, certainly, and he’d kill more in the future.”

“So you killed him to save them.” It’s strange- a life taken, for the purpose of saving others. A means to an end.

“Yeah. And he lied, too. He knew where my son was.”

“How do you know?”

“The way he changed tact so fast, from not telling me to not knowing. The way he bit his cheek and wouldn’t meet my eyes. And before you ask why I didn’t interrogate him, it was because when there’s one Patrol, there are usually others in the area and I couldn’t risk him radioing for help.”

I’d always thought myself hardened- I told myself I’d be prepared to kill if a job came to it, if it was my life or theirs, but now I’m not so sure. Arya, though, has seen things I can barely imagine. Pulled herself out of being a street rat only to run back into the fire. Payed the price for having morals in a world where everyone’s forgotten. The way she looked at the ruins of Taire-Enj- a concrete oasis, she called it, stepping gingerly on every broken piece of stone.

“I don’t want to kill anyone. But I have to, so we can have a world where nobody kills anyone.”

“Could that happen?” I imagine a world where everyone has enough to eat, and everyone has a place to sleep, and nobody’s left behind. It’s a nice thought.

“Maybe it can. But it won’t if nobody tries.” And Arya knows better than anyone what the price of trying is.

On instinct, I brush my hand against her shoulder. She shivers but doesn’t pull away. “We’ll find your son,” I say, not knowing if I believe myself or not. “I know we will.”

#short story #a story a day #writeblr #my writing #original story #flash fiction #tw knife violence

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heliianthus-annnus · 4 years

Text

The idea for this lovely ramble of my 1am writing is courtesy of @courfeyrank who wanted Enj and Bahorel being buds.

All mistakes are my own. And i apologize in advance for my atrocious spelling.

Tw: mentions of police brutality, drinking, and smoking.

Bahorel always felt guilty for leaving his family to go help with other causes but Enjorlas assured him repeatedly that it was more than okay and the Amis could take care of themselves. However when he walked into their customary meeting on the Saturday after a protest he was ready to never leave them alone for more than a day.

Everyone was sporting bruises, cuts, and Grantaire even had a broken arm. Bahorel knew it had a chance of going bad. His Amis always seemed to get on the wrong side of the police despite never actually doing anything wrong.

“R what the actual fuck happened?” Bahorel hissed as he slid into a seat next to the cynic.

“As you can see,” R gestured grandly with his arm that wasn’t in a sling, “my fiancé couldn’t outthink the police this time.” R gave out a heavy sigh. “No, that’s not fair to him. The fucking pigs decided to go to every known protest location and then some just to catch us off guard which they obviously did. They attacked us before we even got a chance to protest what we went there to protest.” Bahorel could cry at the defeated look in R’s eyes.

“How’s Enj?”

“Not good Baz. Not good at all. He…” R trailed off at the sight of Enj at the front of the room to where he had started to speak and pace.

Normally proud shoulders looked slumped under the weight of the world. He ran his hand through hair more often than he usually did making his curls stand on end. Perhaps most concerning of all, Enjorlas had an arm firmly clutched to his side where a bruise was visible through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Police baton to the ribs. He swears they are only bruised and wouldn’t let the nurse take a X-Ray even after I was discharged.” R whispered noticing where Bahorel’s gaze had fixed.

“Is he insane?” He desperately tried not to shout.

“To be determined.” R said grimly and turned to watch his Apollo with concerned but encouraging eyes.

The meeting continued on like that until Enjorlas finally adjourned it, trying and failing to disguise a wince as he lifted his arm to ring the bell at the front of the room.

“‘Aire can I stop by your apartment later?” Bahorel asked not taking his eyes off of Enj who was pale and swaying as he talked to Courfeyrac and Combeferre.

“Uh… yeah...sure” Grantaire said distractedly.

“I’ll be over as soon as you manage to get him home.”

“Thanks Baz.” R flashed him a tired, toothy grin as he went to wrangle his fiancé.

Bahorel went to talk to Cosette. Apparently Eponine was still with Marius at the hospital because he had gotten a severe concussion and Grantaire had broken his arm trying to keep more police officers away from him.

Bahorel was silently planning how he was going to rain legal hell on the precinct that was behind this offense on his family.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from R saying that he had gotten Enj home. Bahorel seemed to either have lost track of time or Enj really was in bad shape.

When Baz got to the door of their apartment it swung open before he even knocked. There was a wild eyed R in the doorway and in the distance he could see Enj on their balcony.

“Are you okay R?” Bahorel confronted the immediate problem.

“Me? I’m totally fine. I’m about to lock myself in my studio until he stops drinking.” Grantaire moved to let him in and went immediately to go lock himself away without another word from Bahorel.

He knew R would be fine but he knew how hard it was for him to stay sober especially on nights like these. Nights where he desired to gain comfort from the bottom of the bottle like Enjorlas seemed to be doing. An activity that was very out of character for the golden leader.

Bahorel walked slowly over to the balcony.

The cool night air could be felt through the open doors. Enjorlas was leaning over the balcony railing propped up on his elbows. He had a bottle of wine in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other.

“Don’t start. I am well aware that I shouldn’t have either of the things that I do but R and I talked the wine through and this is the only cigarette I own.” Enj said without looking behind him.

“I’m not here to nag you about your habits. I’m here because I’m concerned about you Enj.” Bahorel took the spot next to him on the balcony with a sigh.

“Which part? The injuries or the fact that I kinda hate myself at the moment.” Enjorlas let out a bitter laugh that turned into a grimace.

“Both. But let’s start with the ribs.” Bahorel said level headedly. He knew Enj was looking for a fight but no one was willing to give it to him. “Are you absolutely sure they are not broken.”

“ I am. I had Joly check them while R was sleeping after the protest.”

“Did you tell him that you did this?” Enjorlas’s eyes went glassy for a second.

“I...uh… Maybe?” He said.

“No. You didn’t. He is extremely concerned so talk to him in the morning.” Bahorel told him gently.

“ I will. I guess I got too caught up in the aftermath that I forgot.” Enj ran his hand with the cigarette through his hair seeming to forget that it existed.

“You're lucky that it isn't lit.” Bahorel said nodding to the cigarette.

“Ugh fuck it.” Enj said and threw it into a trash can that was on the balcony.

“Enjorlas. Tell me what’s wrong. It’s eating you up. “

“ It’s just...it’s my job to protect the people who come to our protests. Or at least make sure they are prepared. But I wasn’t so they weren’t.” Enj took a pull from the bottle in front to him. “I love the world and the people in it. It’s just… they don't seem to like me very much back.” Enjorlas’s face was distant. “I just want a better future for those that come after us. I don’t want them to have to get beaten by cops just to make a small dent in the minds of others. I don’t want them to have to go through the things we’ve had to. I don’t want my kid to grow up in a world like we did.” Enj looked so old in that one second that Bahorel was struck speechless. He knew Enjorlas held these convictions but he never knew how much the lack of progress killed Enj.

“Enjorlas,” Bahorel said softly, “I know you want it to, but the world isn’t going to change all at once overnight. It takes years for change to happen. And in the years the Amis has been running we have done so much you have done so much.” He said with conviction. He powered on before Enjorlas could interrupt him. “You helped start a youth shelter. The bail fund that you brainstormed and got up and running is thriving. Hell because of the Amis our shitty mayor was forced to step down and you spearheaded the campaign for the mayor who is changing things for the better to take his place. You have done so much you just can’t see it because you see so much at once.” Bahorel gave him a brilliant smile “Every once and a while you need to look at what you have directly in front of you because where I stand you are pretty fucking great and I know so many people who would agree with me.”

“Baz…” Enj said before setting his bottle down and hugging him extremely tight. Bahorel hugged him back as hard as he dared for the sake of Enjorlas’s ribs.

When Enj pulled away his eyes were red and there was a wet spot on Bahorel’s shirt.

“Thank you Bahorel.” Enj smiled at him. This time it looked a little less sad and a little more hopeful.

“It’s no problem Enj. You are my friend. More important you are family. Whatever you need.” He hesitated. “I need to go before the bus stops running. I can stay if you need though?”

“Go home Baz. You need rest. Can you take the wine with you when you go? And there is one in the refrigerator if you can take that one as well?” Enj asked.

“Yessir” Bahorel said with a grin and a sarcastic salute.

When Bahorel went inside he saw R leave his studio and go to where Enj was. He didn’t know if it was some magic couples intuition or if Enjorlas had texted Grantaire but either way he was glad that they had each other.

Bahorel however was extremely glad to have two mostly full bottles of expensive wine to keep him company.

He’d talk his own feelings out with Enj another day. A day when Enj wasn’t so stressed and when he wasn’t so scarily calm. But for now watching shitty TV and drinking expensive wine would have to do.

#enjorlas #bahorel #best buds #softness #hurt #comfort #background exr #i couldnt help myself

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deepinifhell · 5 years

Text

Future Queens- Once Upon A Time

Summary: Princess Lia finds more than she bargained for during her bachelorette party in a beautiful waitress named Riley Singh. She is expected to find a future husband during this upcoming social season. Thankfully, her friends aren’t afraid of bending the rules to offer her the love of a lifetime.

Also on AO3 | Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Pairing: Lia(F!Liam) x MC

Series Rating: T

Word Count: 3,614

Warnings: series warning for homophobia

Disclaimer: This is a TRR rewrite of Liam’s “route”, but with a F/F pairing. I’ve added more description, filled holes, and made a few adjustments but I just want to be clear that a lot of this text is from the book itself and I’m not claiming to have written it.

Note: Happy first full-chapter release!

New York, Once Upon A Time

“Just another glamorous New York Saturday night of hauling trash to the dumpster…” Riley laments, heaving a heavy bag over her shoulder. It lands with a slick, crinkling plop.

“It could be worse. There could be—” Daniel’s voice jumps an entire octave – “rats! Riley, help!”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this adorable little mouse family. They’re trying to get by, just like us.” Daniel is Riley’s friend and co-worker. They both work closing shift at a small local dive bar. Riley never needs the help, but Daniel usually tags along on trash duty to avoid the ever-present wrath of their manager. Speak of the devil—the back-door swings open, and their scowling manager pokes his head out the door.

“Hey! Riley, Daniel, quit slacking off over there!” He barks.

“You told us to take out the garbage,” Riley says.

“And now I’m telling you to wait on the bachelorette party that just rolled in. Chop chop!” The manager snaps his fingers twice.

The previously quiet restaurant is much louder now that the aforementioned bachelorette party is here. Wait. Riley swears her manager said bachelorette party. At the front of the restaurant though, there are three men, and none of them look like they are meant to be at the same place.

“Waitress, there you are. We need your best table!” A crisply dressed man in a suit calls out.

“Forget the table. Just bring us whiskey, and lots of it,” says the only man who looks like he might actually belong here.

Daniel looks to Riley, pleading with his best puppy-dog eyes. “Riley, please take this one. I’ve got a date tonight, and I’ll never make it out of here in time…”

“You really want me to take the them?” Riley asks, thinking it over for a moment. They look like a handful but—“I’m on it. The tip will be insane! I’ll have those guys eating out of my hand in no time.” Daniel’s eyes light up.

“You’re the best!”

“Are you two still talking? I’ve seated them already. Now get over there before I dock your pay!” The manager shouts. Riley heads over to the table where the three men sit, talking. Daniel makes the smart choice to dart into the backroom before their manager finds some other task to take up too much of his time.

“Hello, gentlemen. I’ll be taking care of you this evening,” Riley says. She glues on her most charming and helpful smile.

“Waitress, steaks for the table,” declares the third man. His black polo and slacks are still too nice for a place whose menus aren’t even laminated, though his outfit is blazer-free.

“How about some filet mignon, medium rare and prepared with a bearnaise sauce?” The man in the suit phrases it as a question, but his tone of voice doesn’t match.

“The closest thing we have to filet mignon is the deluxe burger.” Maybe one of them would notice, if they took the time to look at the single-page menu in front of them.

“Dare I ask for your wine list?” The suited gentleman frowns.

“We’ve got an excellent house red,” Riley offers.

“House red?” He sounds deeply offended. Unfortunately, it’s still not enough to rank him in her Top 10 Worst Customers.

“It also comes in white,” Riley says. Seeing the situation starting to get out of hand, the lone casually dressed member of the group takes over the situation.

“We’ll be fine with a bottle of whiskey…and four deluxe burgers.”

“Four?” Riley asks. The man nods behind her, and Riley turns to see a young woman enter the restaurant. She looks just as out-of-place as the rest of her group, but the only thought Riley has time for is she’s really cute!

“Sorry I’m late. Thank you for your patience, Miss…?”

“Uh, Riley.”

“Charmed to make your acquaintance, Riley.” She introduces the group afterward, presenting their names before her own: Tariq, Drake, and Maxwell. The woman’s name is Lia, and Riley knows she won’t be forgetting it anytime soon. She nearly fumbles her words trying to answer back.

“Trust me…the pleasure’s all mine.” Focus, Riley! “It’s nice to meet you. Now let me go put your order in. Be right back!”

---

Later that evening, a little after the bar has closed, Riley is finishing up when someone taps her on the shoulder. It’s Lia, just as polite as when she first walked in. “I think we’re about ready to head out. I just wanted to thank you…and apologize. I know we kept you late, and my friends can be…demanding.”

“Demanding? Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Riley assures her. Lia smiles particularly brightly, like this is more relaxed than she is used to being.

“I got the feeling that you could take care of yourself. If you don’t have any other plans tonight, maybe I can make it up to you by buying you a drink. We’re about to go to a club.”

“Oh? Which one?”

“We were hoping you might have some advice about that. We’re not from around here.” That would explain their voices, fluent in English but with an accent Riley can’t quite place.

“I recommend going…” she could recommend the hottest club in town, but the group didn’t seem like the partying type, especially not Lia, “to a gorgeous secret cove by the beach. Forget the club.”

“You know…that actually sounds perfect. To be honest, I’m getting a little tired of the usual bachelorette party antics. Lead the way!”

“Sure! Let me finish up here, and I’ll meet you out front.” Riley rushes to get through her work and heads back to change. I am so ready to get out of this uniform, she thinks, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

It’s not often she has cute clothes to change into after work, but it’s warm enough that a casual summer dress is more comfortable than her usual after-work clothes this time of year. When Riley steps outside, the rest of the group is waiting for her, open shock on all of their faces.

“Wow,” Drake says.

“Wow?” Riley asks.

“I…almost didn’t recognize you,” he clarifies.

“That uniform wasn’t doing you justice,” Tariq says.

“Yeah, the waitress is hot,” comes Maxwell’s charming contribution. Lia clears her throat, loudly.

“Her name is Riley, and I doubt she appreciates you talking about her like that.”

“Right. Sorry, Riley.” Maxwell scrambles to apologize. “I meant to say, you look lovely. Now let’s get this party going!”

“So she’s our tour guide now?” Drake asks.

“Riley was kind enough to agree to show us around. She’s doing us a favor, so play nice,” Lia says. Riley gathers that this is their usual dynamic, given how unfazed Lia seems about having to scold both Maxwell and Drake.

---

A short time later, Riley and the group pile out of the limo at the beach, and the guys head off towards the ocean.

“We should build a bonfire,” Drake suggests. This is the first time Riley has seen him smile since he asked for that bottle of whiskey earlier.

“I’m not doing manual labor,” Tariq says.

“Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to. What I meant was, I’ll go build a bonfire.”

“This place is awesome! Skinny dipping!” Maxwell makes a point of drawing out the last sentence. Tariq is the first one to interject this time.

“Keep your pants on, Maxwell.”

“Thank you for bringing us here. I can tell the guys are enjoying themselves already,” Lia says, in a polite, indoor voice.

“I bet you’re used to putting everyone else first,” Riley says.

“And why would you say that?”

“I can tell. I’m good at reading people. Now, forget about your friends. What about you? Do you like it here?”

“I love it.”

“It’s my secret spot, so I’m really trusting you.”

“I’ll do my best to be worthy of that trust,” Lia answers diplomatically, but Riley can tell she means every word. “Though there’s just one problem…How am I supposed to buy you that drink?”

“You’ll think of something.” Riley smirks. “Or maybe you’ll just keep owing me.”

“Fair enough. So what should we do?”

“We should…” Riley looks around the cove to remind herself of the best options, “climb up the cliff!” Lia looks startled that Riley would even think to suggest it, but not unwilling.

“Way up there?” She asks, stalling. Riley isn’t about to let her do that. She takes off for the rock face.

“Try to keep up!” Finding handholds and places for her feet, Riley quickly scales the cliff face. When she finally reaches the top, she grins, panting to catch her breath. “…Did it.” She extends a hand down and helps Lia up.

“Thanks.”

“What do you think?” Riley asks.

“Huh?” Lia may still be…just a little out of breath.

“The view. Worth the climb, right?”

“Oh, definitely.” For a moment, they both look out, watching the moonlight play on the waves below as the wind moves through the clouds. Then Riley shivers.

“Cold?” Lia’s face twists with concern.

“Maybe just a little…” Lia peers back down the cliff face.

“I see that the guys got the bonfire going. Let’s head back down and warm up.”

---

Back at the bonfire, Lia’s friends play by the water nearby while the two of them sit together by the fire, appreciating the crackling flames as they warm their hands.

“Tonight’s been quite the adventure…” Lia trails off for a moment, searching for the words. “I never thought my night out on the town would end up like this. You’re really something else, aren’t you?”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Riley beams at her.

“Believe me, it is. Spending time with you tonight has been the most fun I’ve had this entire vacation.”

“I guess that means you haven’t really been enjoying yourself very much.”

“It’s been wonderful, but there’s something missing. I really wanted to do one thing in particular while I was here…”

“And what’s that?”

“It’s…well…you’re probably going to think it’s silly, but I’ve always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. It wasn’t really in the guys’ plan, so we just never got around to it. And now it’s my last day here…” Lia pauses, reeling in the emotion in her voice. “I don’t mean to sound so ungrateful. It was thoughtful of my friends to throw me this bachelorette party. They’ve done their best, but I’m not in the mood to celebrate.”

“Wait a second, it’s really YOUR bachelorette party?” At this point, Riley had written it off as a joke, or maybe a bad ploy to get free drinks—hah, her manager is far too cheap for that. “You’re pretty flirty for an engaged woman. I don’t think your fiancée would be too happy about that.” Riley knows that’s a bold thing to say, maybe even an act of flirting in itself, but she finds herself doing it anyway.

“That’s the funny thing. I actually don’t know who I’m going to marry yet…only that I’ll have to pick my fiancé by the end of the year.” Strange how, in spoken English, fiancé and fiancée become the same word.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Riley’s eyes go wide.

“The truth is, Riley…I’m the Crown Princess of Cordonia.”

“You’re a princess?” Riley asks. Lia already looks disappointed, and Riley can’t help but try to soothe the frown from her face. She leans closer but doesn’t dare to touch. “This doesn’t change anything. I don’t care what your title is. You’re still the same woman I met earlier this evening…caring, thoughtful…” Lia really is amazing. How do I tell her that? “I’ve seen a lot of customers come and go, but I’ve never seen any woman at their bachelorette party be concerned about whether the waitress was having a good night.”

Lia smiles now, though its tentative at first. “You don’t know how rare it is to hear someone say that. You’re the first one, in fact. It seems the more I talk to you, the more I like you, Riley.

It’s strange…I’ve known my whole life that I have to take up the duties of the monarchy. I’ve always wondered how that’s shaped me, who I might’ve been without the crown. You could be anything, do anything. What drives you, Riley?”

“What I really want is…to live every day to the fullest. Sure, I’m only waiting tables now, but…I like to make every day an adventure.”

“That’s beautiful, Riley.” A comfortable silence falls between the pair, looking out to the surf. Maxwell, Drake, and Tariq are splashing in the water.

“Got ya, Tariq!” Maxwell shouts.

“I told you, these shoes are leather!” Tariq shuffles his feet in a futile effort to avoid the water.

“Aw, lighten up, Tariq. You’ve got, what, a hundred pairs?” Drake teases.

“Looks like your friends are having fun,” Riley says.

“Good. I’m happy for them. They deserve to have fun. Tomorrow, it’s back to Cordonia for the start of the social season,” Lia says resolutely.

“But it’s not tomorrow yet…”

“What are you suggesting?” There is a little gleam in Lia’s eye that Riley wants to keep sparkling.

“You said you wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. Let’s do it! I know a place where we can catch a boat tour. Best view in town.”

“Right now? But it’s way past midnight. Won’t all the tours be closed?”

“Oh…right. I forgot how late it’s gotten.” Riley’s disappointment lasts only a moment, and then she’s smiling again, struck by what she hopes is a brilliant plan. “In that case…you’re lucky I can call in a favor.”

Lia’s eyes are wide again. “A favor? And just like that, you can get us on tour boat after midnight to see the Statue of Liberty?”

“Well, maybe a few favors, actually, but I have some friends who owe me.” Living every day to the fullest has its perks, and that includes a lot of people she knows just well enough to ask for a favor. Riley is also banking that the opportunity to give an actual princess a tour will sweeten the pot. “It won’t be easy, but I know this is important to you, so…let’s go!”

Apparently, her speech is not enough to rally Lia, who is still standing there open-mouthed. “Right now?” she asks, again.

“It’s only getting later every minute we wait. Besides, it looks like the guys are busy enough. I bet they won’t even notice you’re gone.” Okay, I may be overselling it, just a little. But it will be worth it!

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“Nope.” That makes Lia grin again.

“Then I happily surrender to your demands.”

---

Riley and Lia make their way to the docks overlooking the city skyline. “…And here we wait,” Riley announces grandly.

“For?” Lia asks.

“A magical boat I’ve summoned just for you.”

“Not a bad view…” This time, when Riley glances over, Lia isn’t looking at the water. They both quickly turn their gaze back to the water. They both smile.

“Now, I’m dying to know why you’re so eager to see the Statue of Liberty.”

“Can’t you guess?”

“You want to see the Statue of Liberty..because you might never come back here.”

“You’re right. Even if I’m ever able to return to New York, it certainly wouldn’t be as a tourist. I have a feeling I’ll regret it if I don’t see the one thing I wished to when we left Cordonia. Knowing I was so close to what I wanted, but I didn’t reach out and grab it.” Lia looks back to Riley for a long moment…then looks away.

“Lia…” Just then, the blast of a horn startles them both! Looking out across the water, they can see a tour boat pulling up! “There’s our ride!”

---

A short time later, they are on their own private tour boat headed to the Statue of Liberty.

“Part of me didn’t think you’d pull this off,” Lia admits.

“You didn’t think I could pull it off? You just don’t know me very well.”

“You’re right. But I’d like to fix that. You’re fascinating, Riley. Why are you doing this for me?”

“I’m doing this because you seemed like you needed it.” It’s the easiest question Riley has been asked all night.

“That’s…so sweet of you. To be honest, no one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

“Really? Come on, you’re a princess. I bet people do things for you all the time.”

“I do get all the perks that come with being royalty, but no one’s ever seen me as just…me. No one’s ever listened to me the way you do. No one’s ever come up with a spur-of-the-moment plan to make my dreams come true.”

“Lia…” Remember, she’s going home tomorrow. “You mean that crack team at the bachelor party couldn’t pull this off?”

“Heh. They try, but they’ve got nothing on you.” Suddenly, the boat slows and the mists of the harbor part. In the distance, the Statue of Liberty appears.

“So? What do you think?” Riley asks.

“Magnificent. I’ve heard that art has meaning because of what it makes the viewer feel. Whether it’s ink splatters on a canvas or the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, it only matters if it moves you.”

“And?” Hopefully now is not the moment Lia decides the Statue of Liberty is a rusted piece of junk.

“And right now, looking at this view with you, I feel like anything is possible. Thank you for this moment, Riley. This feeling…this means more to me than you could ever know.”

“Lia…” How am I supposed to keep it casual when you say things like that? Lia cuts her off before she can say anything else.

“I want you to know that I admire you. Your adventurous spirit. The way you follow your heart.”

“You can live that way too.”

“If only. My whole life I’ve prepared myself to do what’s best for Cordonia.”

“Well, we’re not in Cordonia now…” Riley looks up into her eyes as Lia draws close. It’s Riley who takes the plunge in the end, pulling Lia in and kissing her deeply. For a moment, Lia stands frozen in shock again, but she relaxes moments later. Riley can feel the grin on her lips before they pull away. Lia leans her forehead against Riley’s.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I try.”

“I’m glad to have met you, Riley. I’ll never forget this night.”

---

The next morning, Riley gets ready for the day. “Last night was fun…but it’s time to face the real world…” Talking to herself is a bad habit she has gotten into since moving out on her own for the first time. “…and that means going back to work.”

She has just made it to the doors of the bar when she hears a familiar voice!

“Riley! Glad I caught you.” It’s Maxwell, and he doesn’t bother to wait for her response before continuing, talking a-mile-a-minute like a businessman trying to rush a phone call. “We’re heading back to Cordonia so Lia can find someone to marry and all that jazz. But before I go, I wanted to officially extend to you an invitation to join us for the festivities in Cordonia.”

“Huh?” I must have misheard.

“You wouldn’t usually be allowed to join…but I want to sponsor you!”

“Sponsor me?”

“I’m from a noble house, and usually they would select one of their own family members, but we can sponsor anyone we choose. And you’re my pick.”

“You want to sponsor me? Why me? Isn’t she looking for…a husband?”

“Technically,” Maxwell emphasizes this word heavily, “it says ‘spouse’. But I’m not just doing it for you. I saw how Lia looked at you last night. I’ve never seen her so happy. Honestly? I don’t want her to lose that. We’re kinda crunched for time, though. I’ve got a plane leaving within the hour…”

“Whoa! You’re moving a little fast, don’t you think?”

“No time to waste. The opening Masquerade is tonight! It’s the start of the…uh, I guess you could say, it’s the start of the competition.”

“What do you mean?” Lia didn’t mention last night that there would be some sort of Love Tournament!

“There’s a whole horde of handsome, rich, noble men vying to become Cordonia’s next king. And it’s not just about winning the Princess’ hand. You’ve also got to prove to the council that you can rule Cordonia with her. But I think you’ve got what it takes. You’re witty and charming.”

“Uh, thanks,” Riley says, dumbfounded. She knows this is insane, and Maxwell’s speech doesn’t make her feel any less nervous about being the only woman vying for the Princess’ hand, but her mouth moves on its own. “So…a fancy Masquerade…and what else am I getting myself into?”

“Fun stuff, I promise! You’ll get to go yachting in the Mediterranean, skiing in the Alps, and dancing in the Royal Palace… Or, y’know, you can stay here…and go back to your waitressing gig with your crappy boss. That’s probably about as good.” By the end, she can practically feel the sarcasm dripping from his mouth. Riley thinks back on everything that happened last night. That she said she wanted to live every day to the fullest, and how much she wanted to spend more time with Lia.

“I’m in,” she says. Maxwell does a little hop of excitement.

“Yeah! Go pack your bags. This is going to be the adventure of a lifetime!”

Tag List: @sibella-plays-choices @client-327

#trr fanfic #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance #choices fanfiction #wlw choices

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kurthummelnyvogue · 6 years

Text

Strike A Pose || KURTBASTIAN

Kurt looked up from his spot on the floor when he was setting one of the lights, hoping that it would be Sebastian the one who had just arrived, only to see it was the photographer, Peter. He had been kind enough to offer his services for Kurt on that night, taking the pictures and also any video needed so he could get on with what had been his idea lately: to have a business online of his own. He was already quite reknown with several of the critics that were related to Vogue, but instead of just working for someone, he wanted to take that big step in what could be a huge thing for him, and his love for clothes design. And that started that night, be putting his most recent creation on film and images, with his husband as a model. Who better than Sebastian to do that? Although at the moment he was winning a reprimend for being four minutes late.

Sebastian practically flew into the building, wave his visitors card that Kurt had already organised for him. Not that it would have been difficult to get - he was known to the security guards at the front desk for meeting Kurt his lunch on occasion, but this was just faster and saved the paperwork and signing in. And plus, he was running late. Jett had been sleeping on his leg and he felt bad for moving him so he'd let him stay there for maybe a bit longer than he should have. And then he'd stopped for coffee, thinking that if he was going to be late, he may as well be late with coffee. "Sorry, sorry!" He said when he got to the room, now about 10 minutes after the time he and Kurt had agreed on, and put the hand that wasn't holding the tray with three coffees up in surrender, "I know, I'm late. I would have been on time but I stopped to get you a coffee. Mmm... coffee. Smell the coffee, don't think about the time." He held it up to Kurt with a sheepish grin. "And yes, Peter, I got you one too, but unlike my husband's, I don't know what you drink so it's just a cappuccino."

@sexbastianwarbler

The next time the door opened Kurt knew it had to be Sebastian, since he and Peter were there, and they were the only ones with access to the photo studio room that night. He put theboard he was working on down and walked up to the bed with his hands on his hips. "You're lucky that I love and coffee" he said as he grabbed his cup. "-and yes, you. Now we should get to work." He planted a soft kiss on his cheek and walked back to the desk, while Peter made grabby hands at Sebastian to get his coffee. "Okay, so... I was thinking we start with the pictures first, then we can stage an actual runway and get it on video so I can loud on My YouTube channel. I'd make the editing after of course, with the music and effects. We will start with these ensambles here. It's a spring line, so they're not really too heavy clothing anyway."

Sebastian passed Peter his coffee, then went to take a sip of his own. At Kurt's words he choked on his coffee a little bit and stared at Kurt, "a... runway? I thought this was just photos. Now you're making me nervous," he admitted. He had assumed he'd wear some of Kurt's designs, look hot in some photos and that'd be the end. He hadn't realised Kurt was planning a runway clip too, though he knew that some clothing lines used it to show how the clothes moved and actually looked on somebody. So he understood why, he just hadn't been expecting it. "It's fine though. You tell me what to wear and how pretty to look, and I'll do it. So what's first?"

Kurt chuckled. "You? Nervous to be on camera? Come on now, baby. You have all the sass it takes to kill it. Plus, it's not going to be a full length movie thing, just a couple of minute clip, which only means you would haveto walk up and down that runway there, enough times for Peter to get all the good takes, then it's done. So, you-" He grabbed a burgundy color based ensemble, jacket and pants in said color, while the shirt was white, with a different kind of V-neck cut, just a bit longer down the chest. "You can put this one way for starter, please? There's the booth over there for you to change."

Sebastian took the clothes from Kurt, liking the colour choices, and then looked over at Peter with a wink. "I'm sure Peter wouldn't mind if I give a strip teas- I'm kidding! Okay, I'm going, I'm going." He took a quick sip of his coffee before setting it aside (not wanting it anywhere near the clothes while he was getting changed because that just spelled disaster) and heading behind the booth. He quickly changed, and stepped out, knowing Kurt would want to fix up exactly how the outfit looked. Especially since the focus here was for the clothes, since that's what was being sold. He'd watched him run shoots for Vogue before so - while he'd never been the model - he had a small idea of what to expect.

Both Kurt and Peter snapped their heads up so fast, it almost gave them headrush. Kurt then chuckled, while Peter tried to find a good place where he could stuck his head in, and while Sebastian got changed Kurt hung another ensemble on the racket, a blue colored combined one, only this one had a not so striaght line on the lapels of the jacket. When Sebastian came back out Kurt grabbed a step-on, which he used so the models would stand on it, so he could do any proper fixing. "Get on this, please."

"Yes sir," Sebastian replied with a wink, stepping up onto the stand dutifully, to let Kurt fix up anything with the outfit. When Kurt first told him about his idea to create his own fashion line, he'd agreed straight away, though he'd been apprehensive to see what Kurt came up with to sell. Sometimes he didn't quite get Kurt's designs, which wasn't to say he didn't think his husband was talented - because he was. But he didn't get fashion, whether or not it was Kurt's designs. And to sell to the mass market was different to selling to runways. But the couple of ideas Kurt had showed him so far had been - in his uneducated opinion - brilliantly and easily marketable. "This looks good," he commented, as Kurt fixed it up, "I love the colour."

Kurt looked up at him from his spot on the floor, where he was on his knees fixing the lower ends of the pants. "Thanks. A long path from being a Puerto Rican pride float, huh?" He chuckled, then got on his feet and gave the jacket a slight tug. "There. All done. Okay so... Let's start with the pictures then, shall we?"

Sebastian laughed, "you're never going to let me live that down, are you? I was a dick in high school, this is well established." He waited and nodded when Kurt said all done, stepping off the step, "sure. You or Peter just tell me how to pose and I'll do that." He wasn't sure what type of photos they'd want, whether it'd be some real simple ones, just standing and the shot focused on the clothes, or whether they'd also be more artistic like a photoshoot, but he was pretty sure they'd turn out great either way.

Kurt chuckled and shook his head. "Oh honey, no. That will last at least a couple of years longer" He nodded at Peter, who came over and lead Sebastian to where the photo shoot spot was, surrounded by a couple of big lights, and a blue background on the wall. There was also a stool there, which Peter told Sebastian he could use at his will, then he put himself behind the camera and told him they would do a couple of test shots to see which angle worked the best.

"It's been nearly ten," Sebastian said in protest, not quite believing how long it had been since high school. Sometimes he still couldn't quite believe that after nearly ten years after high school, here he was - married to Kurt Hummel. The man - well, boy at the time - he wanted to hate. And did for a while. But their chance meeting in New York had sealed their fate, and he couldn't be happier now. He wasn't entirely sure what to do or how to pose... he was confident and happy with how he looked, but he'd never exactly been a model for the camera before. But he knew the focus here would be on how the clothes looked so he tried to do his best - taking direction from both Peter and Kurt.

Kurt worked on the board, where he could arrange the order on which the clothes would be shown, pretty much like on an actual show; every once in a while he would look up and smiled at the way Sebastian looked while trying to look his best for the camera, and it was pretty hot actually. When Peter said to him to give the camera his sexy looks Kurt blushed and buried his head down on the board. His husband's sexy look was his kryptonite.

Sebastian caught Kurt looking away and smirked at him, which Peter caught on camera and said that was exactly what he was looking for. Of course it was. They took plenty of photos, and then some standard ones of just the clothing, from both the back and front - like you would normally see on a website. "Okay, I think that's that outfit done," Peter commented, looking down at the camera, "got plenty of the total look, and each piece individually for the shop pages." Sebastian took the next pieces Kurt gave him and got changed again, and the whole shoot became a rhythm they got into.

Kurt enjoyed loving the way Sebastian eased into it, like it was something he would do every day. He was a natural, with the right attitude, and of course the perfect look. They did another two sets of clothes, which left only one for the actual video. "Baby, it's like you're a fish in the ocean. Like you belong here, you know? You're already my muse, so I suppose this was the logical next step, huh?" Kurt chuckled as he fixed the lapels on his light being, almost asimetric jacket, over a bit darker beige pants and light blue shirt.

Sebastian grinned at Kurt when he said that and gave a short bow in thanks, "why thanks, babe." He winked at him, but secretly he was glad the photos were turning out (or so Peter was saying, he hadn't seen any of them). While he never doubted his looks persay, he had worried that Peter or Kurt would think he was too stiff, or just not right. But he found he was actually enjoying it, now they'd got into a rhythm of Kurt dressing and accessorising him, and Peter telling him how to pose (with input from Kurt). "This is actually fun," he admitted to Kurt as he fixed the jacket, "hopefully it all comes together in the end. Okay! How do you want me?" He said to Peter, as he went back to the shooting area to shoot the last outfit.

Kurt almost let slip something like 'oh, I can tell what or how I want you right now', but he stopped himself just in time. He couldn't deny that seeing Sebastian like that was making him really horny, but he was far too busy to focus on anything else. Peter gave him some intructions to walk up and down the runway they had set in the room, then turned a couple of fans on, which made the light blue fabrics that hung off the wall float around the stage. "Okay, give me that sexy look again, Sebastian" Peter said, then got closer to him and spoke quietly. "Focus on Kurt. Model just for him, and forget about everything else." He smiled at him, then took his place behind the set camera.

Sebastian laughed, "oh, Peter, if I was modelling just for Kurt I wouldn't be wearing any clothes." His smile grew wider at the unamused looked Peter gave him and then he raised his hands in a surrender motion, "sorry, sorry. I'm focusing." He shook his hands out, tilting his head from side to side to snap him out of it and then nodded, "right, I'm good." He looked over at Kurt like Peter had told him too, focusing on him as he smirked, changing positions as Peter directed.

Kurt busied himself uploading the pictures from Peter's camera to his laptop so he could study them and pick the best ones, although in this case it would be difficult, since they were all perfect. Of course, it was Sebastian. At one moment he looked up and caught his husband looking at him in that particular way he knew made him weak on the knees; he found himself staring at the way his body seemed to sway to the music, and even if it was a short thing, it felt like it went on for hours. 'Kurt?' He blinked back to reality and saw Peter next to him. "Hmm?" 'I was asking if it was kay. If you liked it at all'' Kurt cleared his throat and nodded. "It was perfect, Peter. As usual, you're always the best. And on the plus side-" He looked up and saw Sebastian coming towards him. "-you also had the perfect model" he finished with a grin on his face.

Sebastian smirked when he heard Kurt's words, walking into earshot. "Aw, thanks babe." He leaned in and kissed him quickly, wiping his hand across his forehead. The lights from the shoot that Peter had used to get everything looking good had been hot so he was sweating a bit. "Do you need anymore shots tonight?"

Kurt quickly grabbed a couple of tissues and handed them to Sebastian so he could clean his forehead, then shook his head. "I think that's enough for now. I'll do all the necessary edits after Peter sends it all to me, and work on it then. You can take those off now, baby." Peter said that if that was all for the time being he would go, and Kurt and Sebastian thanked him and said good night.

Sebastian waved and watched Peter leave, leaning on the table with his head propped up on his hand. He smiled at him in goodbye and then as soon as the door was shut behind him, turned to grin at Kurt, leaning in. "So... when you say take these off..."

Kurt looked up from his tablet, where he was typing in some final details, and grinned. "I meant just that. Leave them hanging inside the booth, so they can be picked up in the morning." He licked his lips. "Whether you decide to put your own clothes back on or not, that's entirely up to you, baby." He giggled, then pressed Save on his screen and put it down. "Would you like me to help you with that?"

Sebastian pouted when Kurt told him that, but he supposed having his husband take them off would likely end in disaster. "It's okay," he replied and went behind the screen, taking the clothes off and putting them on the hanger. And then - of course - he did exactly as Kurt had suggested. He left his clothes from earlier still thrown over the screen, waiting to be put back on, and stepped back out naked, wrapping his arms around Kurt. "You're so hot when you run photoshoots like that, did you know? Bossing people around."

Aware of what he had asked Sebastian to do, and with the adreanline of seeing his own designs in display like that, Kurt worked quickly in finishing what needed to be done, so when he felt his arms around him, so familiar and warm, he smiled and leaned back on him. "Hmm... Is that right? Is that you're way of saying you like me bossing you around, baby?" He moaned softly as he felt his cock poking his lower back.

Sebastian smirked and rested his head on Kurt's shoulder, "mmm... maybe I am. It was hot. You were so confident." He trailed a finger along Kurt's arm and pressed his lips to his cheek, "didn't you have fun?"

Kurt bit his lip down as the heat slowly rised inside of him, his eyelids fluttering when his lips touched his skin. "Oh, I did. I sure did. Doing what I love, with the man I love... That's everything to me..." He chuckled softly, his hand reaching back to let his fingers brush over Sebastian's erection. "So, you liked me being the boss? Does that mean you would do anything I'd ask you right now, baby...?"

Sebastian's lips kissed his way down Kurt's skin, making their way down his neck. He gasped softly against his skin when he felt Kurt's fingers ghost over him. "Mmm, you should try it and see," he replied, teasingly.

Kurt bit his lip down, his eyelids fluttering as the warmth of Sebastian'ss lips against his skin shot through him like fire, his hand moving on his erection slowly but firmly. "Mmm... How about.... you pull my pants down, bend me over this desk and let me feel that wicked tongue of yours, hmm?" He turned his head a bit so hee could look at him and grinned. "That's an order."

Sebastian smirked wickedly when Kurt turned to look at him, "is that so? Well, in that case, sir, yes, sir." He winked at him with a laugh, but then spun him around to face him so he could kiss him deeply as he walked them over to the desk. When they reached the desk, he kissed him one last time before turning him around and bending him over it. "Stay there," he said, walking over to check if the door was locked because he wasn't entirely sure if the building was empty since he knew Kurt spend a lot of late nights here, or Peter could have come back to get something he forgot... he wouldn't want somebody to walk in and for Kurt to get in trouble or something. Once he was satisfied it was locked, he walked back to Kurt, and leaned his body over him, "where was I?" He kissed the back of his neck, letting his hands slip under the fabric of Kurt's shirt before making their way down to pull Kurt's trousers and briefs off in one go.

Kurt gasped when their lips met again, his fingers sliding through the man's chesnut hair and gripping it while he was moved backwards to the desk. His body felt like about to explode when he was bent over like that, and from the position he was he couldn't see what Sebastian was doing, but he did hear the 'click' of the lock on the door. He smirked when he heard his voice behind him again, his fingers fisting onto nothing when his hands touched him in the way that never failed to make hm crazy. He gasped when all the sudden his ass was bare naked and totally exposed. "Fuck, baby that's so hot... mmm..." He wiggled his ass at him and giggled.

Sebastian pushed Kurt's shirt up his back so he could kiss his way down it, but he didn't waste time in taking it off. He moved his lips down Kurt's back slowly, mouthing along the skin until he knelt down behind him. He spread his cheeks with his hands. "Tell me what you want again," he said, his voice low, his breath brushing against Kurt's entrance.

Kurt was glad when Sebastian finally took his shirt off him, the fabrics much in the way of everything he was craving to feel at that moment. He moaned softly as each peck on his already heated skin felt like a blowtorch, then grunted when he felt his man's breath touching him in the most intimate, and dirty way. After clearing his throat as best as he could he looked at him behind his shoulder. "I want your tongue in me now. "

Sebastian looked up a bit, just so he could see Kurt's head looking over his shoulder at him. He smirked and nodded. "As you wish," he replied, a throwback to the time Kurt had made him watch Princess Bride. He leaned forward, breathing out slowly, teasingly, before he pushed his tongue forward, slipping into Kurt's entrance just slightly, before pressing in a little deeper.

Kurt bit his lip down when he met Sebastian's gaze, and although he tried to be the dominant part on that particular ocassion, he was very aware of the effect those green esmeralds had on him when he looked at him like that. His eyes rolled to the back of his head when he finally felt the warm and moisty tip pushing slightly through his walls, his whole body jerking a little as a rush of heat went through it, then groaned almost too loudly when he finally slid in, his hands now fisted in small, tight balls as he allowed himself to truly feel the lust taking over. "Oh my god... oh.. mmm.. fuck... yes... yes... oh baby... ah..."

Sebastian narrowed his tongue, sliding it deeper inside Kurt's tight walls, fueled by the sounds his husband was making. He held onto his ass as he did, steadying himself, as he moved his head moving back and forth as his tongue kept sliding inside of him with increasing ease.

Kurt grunted and leaned his head down, his arms now used as pillow under him, but soon he had to move them to grasp onto the edges of the desk, the increasing heat making it difficult for him to keep balance on his feet. He bit his lip down so he would try not to be too loud, but that was becoming less unlikely with each passing second. He reached down and grabbed onto Sebastian's hair, pushing his face deeper in his ass. "Your tongue feels so good in me... fuck... mmm..." He moaned and let go of him when his body gave a sudden jerk. "You need to fuck me soon, baby... I want it so bad..."

Sebastian let out a muffled chuckle when Kurt pushed him deeper but didn't complain in the slightest, letting his tongue sink deeper inside of him. He narrowed it, moving it in and out of the tight muscles, swallowing his taste. He pulled away from him and licked his lips, "is that another order?" He asked, with a teasing grin, before ducking his head back down and pushing his tongue into him again.

If Kurt were to have his way, he would have made Sebastian eaten him out until he came, and then some more, but he also knew he wanted so much more than just that, no matter how good his husband's wicked tongue felt inside of him. He grabbed onto his hair and pulled him off his ass, the grin on his face mixed with a flush of lust. "Get up and fuck me, Smythe. Now."

Sebastian grinned, and flicked his tongue against Kurt's entrance one more time before standing up behind him. "Sir, yes, sir," he said with a wink. He was still completely naked from before, so he didn't have to worry about the hassle of clothing or anything of the sort. Lining himself up against Kurt, he started to slowly push forward, his hands gripping to Kurt's hips so he could steady himself as the tight muscle wrapped around him.

Without having to look behind him, Kurt could feel Sebastian moving, and that alone made his heart race, his teeth biting on his lip hard. His body jerked a little when he first felt him pushing in, his own hands reaching back to hold onto Sebastian's on his hips, while he allowed the initial burn to pass, his cock twitching as the heat of it all came down. He took a deep breath and pushed his ass back on him just a bit.

Sebastian pressed forward until he was completely buried inside of Kurt, stopping to let him adjust. He bent over him, pressing soft kisses at the back of his neck. "Tell me when you're good babe," he said, his voice low, resisting the urge to move his hips just yet.

Kurt whimpered as he felt Sebastian sliding all the way into him, his knees shaking a bit before he focused in relaxing enough. He licked his lips and reached up when he felt Sebastian's breath on his neck, his fingers grabbing onto his hair. "Mm... I'm good now... Move..."

Sebastian's grip on Kurt's hips tightening as he nodded. Biting down on his lip, he slowly pulled himself out of Kurt before pressing back in. He started a slow and steady pace, moving in and out of his husband. "God, you feel so good," he groaned.

Kurt moaned out loud, eyes fluttering as he felt Sebastian moving behind him, feeling like every move buried him an inch further inside of him. "Fuck, you do too, baby.. ah.. ahhh... oh, so big... mm..." He licked his lips a bit, his hips slowly rolling to let him in a bit more, then he fully started moving back on him, his ass bouncing against his lap, as he fucked himself shamelessly on his husband's cock.

Sebastian couldn't help the smirk that appeared on his face when Kurt started practically fucking himself on him. "Babe, you're doing all the work," he said with a laugh, but god, it felt so good. He held onto his hips and started thrusting inside of him, faster and harder until he was practically slamming forward, deep into his husband.

Kurt chuckled breathlessly. "Aren't you suppose to do as I say?" he quiped back at him, then he moaned loudly when he finally started slamming into him, their bodies smacking together harshly as he reached deep inside of him with every thrust he gave. "Oh gosh, yes.. yes.. just like that, baby.. mm... fucking harder... harder..."

"Harder?" Sebastian asked, with a smirk, "I can do that." With his hands digging into Kurt's hips, his thrusts quickened and he fucked into Kurt harder. He moaned as Kurt's tight walls swallowed him in, pounding forward, hitting the spot inside Kurt with every thrust.

Kurt let out a strangled cry when Sebastian pounded hard into him, their bodies smacking together loudly, and also making the desk underneath Kurt squeak dangerously. With the sweet and thorogh assault to his soft spot he did his best to hold back, but he knew it wouldn't be long before he was done. "Baby.. I'm so close.. Fuck, don't stop... don't.. stop... ah.. ahh.. fuck.. ngg..."

Sebastian let go of Kurt's hips with one hand, and slid it between Kurt's body and the desk, wrapping his fingers around his cock. "Not ... fuck ... planning on ... mmm ... it." He grunted, continuing to slam into Kurt, his hand now working his cock in tandem with his hips, wanting to feel the way Kurt clenched around him.

Kurt gasped when he felt Sebastian's skillful hand around his throbbing member, his teeth sinking through his lips as he felt the heat within him raise because of what his husband was doing to him. He stood back up a bit, his hand reaching back to grab onto what he could of Sebastian's hair, then pulled it hard, making his head come closer, and he kissed him wantonly while his body was being fucked in the most dirty and perfect way. "Fuck, I'm gonna come soon, baby... ahhh.... mmm..." He could feel his hole starting to clench around Sebastian's cock.

Sebastian grunted when Kurt's fingers slid in and grabbed his hair, not protesting as their lips clashed together. The new angle made their bodies press together even more, the sound of skin slapping together still being heard around the room. When he felt Kurt's muscles clench around his cock he moaned, using the one hand that was still holding onto his hip guide him, as he slammed forward, his own orgasm hitting him at the same time as Kurt's, a wave of pleasure crashing over his body.

Kurt whimpered when Sebastian's pace got much faster and harder, both their orgasms hitting at the same time, feeling like a wave that cascaded on both of them hard. With his body still jerking with the tingles of his climax he turned his head to look at Sebastian and grinned. "Wow... Just when I think you cant possibly be more perfect-"

Sebastian gave a cheeky grin, "well, you know me. I love proving the world wrong." Their bodies moved together slowly as they both came down from their highs and then they stayed like that for a few moments, breathing heavily, until Sebastian pulled out of Kurt carefully. "I stopped thinking you couldn't get more perfect a long time ago," he pulled Kurt off the desk and spun him around so he was facing him, "every day I wake up and think you're more perfect than the day before."

Kurt hummed softly while they stayed together, deeply connected like that, enjoying the feeling of his husband's arms around him, then winced slightly when he pulled out of him, the ugly empty feeling only made better when he spun him around and he put his arms around his neck. "Why thank you, my love. It's good to know that I can still surprise you" he said with a little giggle, then kissed him soundly and sighed happily. "We should get dressed. I'm starting to get a bit cold here" he said, both of them standing there naked as they were,

Sebastian nodded, smiling at Kurt. "Well, good. Because you can and do. Like today, you owned this shoot. I can't wait to see the photos and how your website is going to turn out. Just wait, people will be queuing up to buy your stuff." He laughed, "I've got changed so many times today, what's one more?" He gave Kurt a quick kiss on the lips and they got dressed, Sebastian getting his clothes from behind the screen first.

Kurt chuckled and kissed him back before letting him go so he could get dressed again. "I sure hope so. Either way, doing this with you was a lot of fun, baby." He too got dressed again quickly, then joined him behind the screen. "We should definitely do it again. Both things, actually" he said with a cheeky grin, then gathered all his things before taking Sebastian's hand and leaving the studio, and the building.

END SCENE.

#kurtbastian rp #1x1 rp #para

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mysunfreckle · 7 years

Text

An Unusual Hoard

Baby dragon Enjolras for @courfox, featuring Enj’s adoptive parents.

For Love of Lore fantasy AU, ~2.2k

George and Marianne Enjolras were three things: very happily married, very fond of adventure and, at the moment, running as fast as they possibly could.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” George panted, looking over his shoulder.

“No,” Marianne agreed breathlessly, hugging the large egg closer to her chest. “Are they following us?”

“Not yet,” he replied.

Their footsteps thumped as they hurried back towards the blinking lights of the town. Nobody seems to have seen what they did and it really seems like no one is following them, but they don’t slow down. Because they just stole a real life dragon egg and there is no way they are giving it back.

The travelling sideshow that had set up a little way outside of town was mostly a colourful sham. It promised to give visitors a rare glimpse at ‘the wonders of the magical world’, but all it had was parlour tricks. Rabbits with wooden antlers tied behind their ears, horses with their manes dyed and braided and their hooves stained with gold, magicians that pretended to be true users of magic. All amusing enough, but not real. The large, red and gold egg lying in a basket among a pile of fake glass gemstones had been real though.

Both Marianne and George thought it looked suspiciously realistic right from the start. It was warm to the touch and the rough, scaly texture of the shell felt so strange and wonderful that they had stroked it. Neither of them had really meant to, it just felt like the right thing to do. So they did. Just one stroke. Just because it seemed like the proper thing to do.

That was when the egg purred at them.

By now that was about fifteen minutes ago. Because it had taken exactly eleven and a half minutes for George and Marianne to decide that this egg was not only alive, it was also extremely rare and extremely badly cared for. An egg, after all, was a baby, and babies should not be exhibited like cheap props. It wasn’t right. There wasn’t even a blanket in the basket the egg was lying in. And it had purred at them. Not even a blanket.

So now they were running, George looking over his shoulder at every turn and Marianne cradling the egg in her arms, trying not the jostle it too much.

“Manou,” George panted, looking back once more. “Manou, slow down.”

Marianne slowed to a trot, breathing hard.

“I think,” George said, gulping down air. “I think they really haven’t noticed.” He could hardly believe it, but there really was no one chasing him. No cries of theft or outrage behind them. And they were nearly out of earshot of the fairground already.

“Well,” Marianne huffed. “So much the better.” She stood still for a moment, trying to breathe thought the stabbing in her sides.

“Is he heavy?” George asked concernedly. “Shall I carry him – it – the rest of the way?” What was he supposed to call the egg?

“Please,” Marianne nodded, but she still felt oddly unwilling to let go of the egg. Still, she was only putting it into George’s arms, so that was alright. “Have you got him – it?” she asked.

“Yeah,” George muttered, an involuntary smile dawning on his face. The egg was so warm… “Do you think he’s cold?” he asked, looking up at Marianne.

“I have no idea,” she said. “But let’s not take any chances. Come on.”

They hurried home, as fast as they could go without running or looking too suspicious. When they reached the town, Marianne took off her jacket and draped it across the egg just in case. More to hide it from prying eyes than for warmth, but it couldn’t hurt.

When they finally closed the door to their home behind them, they both breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment they just stood there in the dark hallway, huddled close together, the egg in between them. Then, slowly, Marianne said:

“George…we stole a dragon.” She felt a bit lightheaded.

“We stole an egg,” George corrected her weakly.

Marianne nodded. “Yes,” she said. “A badly cared for egg.”

“Very badly,” he agreed hastily. “Very badly indeed.”

“They probably didn’t even know what it was,” Marianne added, putting her hand on the warm shell. It seemed to hum under her fingertips.

“Very possible,” he nodded, rocking the egg slightly in his arms. “And it looked cold.” Not even a blanket, how dare they.

“Yes, very cold,” Marianne said firmly.

There was a short silence.

“He’s ours now,” Marianne said, just to be perfectly clear.

“Yes,” George said, addressing the world in general rather than anyone in particular. “Yes, he is.”

Another silence followed, a slightly more tense one this time.

“So…what do we do now?”

As it turned out, it mattered very little what they did. Both of them tried very hard to remember if they had ever read anything that might be of help and George very much lamented the fact that it was too late to go to the library. In the end they settled for wrapping the egg in a woollen shawl and placing it in front of the fireplace, in which they lit as big a fire as they deemed safe.

All these preparations, as good as they were, were largely useless. Because just as they had begun to discuss whether making hot steam might be better for the egg than the dry heat of the fire, there was a decided cracking noise.

It is doubtful if any parent is ever fully ready to be a parent, but it is safe to say that Marianne and George, having had exactly three hours to prepare, were certainly not ready. Within seconds they were both on their knees beside the egg, their eyes wide with affectionate panic.

“It can’t be hatching,” Marianne said. “Not already!” This was a rather nonsensical statement and she knew it, because they had no way of telling how old this egg was. They didn’t even know how long dragon eggs took to hatch.

“Maybe it’s because it is safe now?” George stammered. “I’m sure I read somewhere that-”

There was another loud crack and Marianne and George winced in the universal shared pain that all humans are capable of, but that is particularly prevalent in parents. They both reached out to the egg without realizing it and under their hands, as if it truly knew it would at last be well cared for, the dragon hatched.

The egg had been big, but it was still a surprise to see a whole creature crawl out of it. There were red scales, and little claws and a tail and a warm body that curved into their hands like a cat would do.

“Oh Manou,” George breathed. “Look at him…”

“I am,” Marianne said hoarsely.

The little dragon had blue eyes. Blue, brilliant eyes that looked from one parent to the other with such a human expression that they were both nearly speechless.

“Hello little one,” George breathed, stroking the dragons back.

The creature purred and looked up at him.

Marianne held out her hand and the baby dragon turned his slender neck to look at her instead. Then he looked at her hand and put out his paw. His tiny claw spread against her palm and Marianne felt a lump in her throat.

The dragon bent his head and it seemed to George that he was studying how his own paw looked on Marianne’s hand. Almost like he was-

Marianne let out a cry of surprise and a second later George saw it too.

Right in front of their eyes, the little dragon, red and scaly, with a twisty tail and little, folded wings of creased leather, started to change form. Bewildered, George and Marianne watched claws turn to fingers and scales turn to soft skin until what they held in between them in front of the fire was no longer a creature, but a child. A small boy with big, blue eyes, soft hair reminiscent of spun gold and a skin with a slight warm tan to it. They stared at him, in dumbfounded admiration, until he smiled and they both broke down.

“It’s a boy,” Marianne cried, wrapping him up in her arms. “Look at you, you’re a- George we have a son. A dragon and a son.”

“Hello,” George just managed to say, one of the toddlers tiny hands in his. “That’s a neat trick you just did, I didn’t know you could do that.”

The toddler looked rather pleased with himself and was certainly quite content to be cuddled and have his hair stroked. Both parents inspected him carefully and they found that he really looked completely human, with the exception of rather long and slightly pointed ears and a dusting of red scales lining his round cheeks.

Marianne thought she was going to spill over, so full up with happiness she felt. “You-” she muttered against the side of the boy's head. “-are the most wonderful thing we ever stole.”

“You make it sound like we steal things all the time,” George protested, an immovable smile on his face.

“Well,” Marianne said thoughtfully. “We-”

“We haven’t even introduced ourselves properly yet and you’re already making a bad first impression,” he interrupted her chidingly.

Marianne grinned at him and George wondered vaguely if it was his imagination or if his wife and the boy in her arms really did have the same sort of light in their eyes.

“Am I a bad influence?” Marianne cooed, touching her nose to the toddler’s. “I don’t think I am. Remember, your mother only steals things if they need to be liberated from where they currently are.”

The boy blinked his blue eyes and suddenly he laughed. Not a gurgle, a real laugh, it rang out like gold pieces clattering on a marble floor and both Marianne and George felt a tugging at their heart.

“You are definitely a bad influence,” George informed her. “And we still haven’t introduced ourselves.”

“Should we give him a name?” Marianne asked, gazing down at the golden-haired child in her lap.

“Maybe he has a name,” George said. “Do you have a name?”

The question made the boy look up. He fixed his blue eye son George with a seriousness that should not exist in a child so small and because he could think of nothing else to do, George made an exaggerated movement with his hand and bowed his head. “Welcome, your dragon-ness,” he said. “I am George Enjolras.”

The boy gazed at him questioningly.

“That’s right,” Marianne said, smiling warmly at her husband. She gave a wave of her hand herself. “And I’m Marianne Enjolras.” She gave the boy a gentle look. “We’d like to be your parents if we may.”

The child made a sound that was almost a hum and suddenly he smiled, raised a chubby little hand, made a vague attempt at a wave and said, with a voice that was very young, but surprisingly articulate: “Enjolras!”

The sounds that escaped from both George and Marianne’s mouths were far too emotional to be any sort of coherent.

“Alright,” George said, voice trembling. “What a pleasure to meet you, Enjolras.”

“Our own little Enjolras.”

Neither of the new parents (and more inexperienced and overwhelmed parents there had never been) had any attention left over for anything besides their son. Enjolras seemed to light up the room and warm the air around him with no more effort than simply existing.

It was not until later that his parents found out this was indeed a thing he did. Enjolras might look human, he had dragon fire in his soul and it radiated all around him like the rays of the sun.

They still had a great deal to learn about baby dragons and were at that moment still completely unaware of quite how steep a learning curve this was going to be. They would learn soon enough however, that bewildering as it was to raise a child, raising a dragon came with special challenges. Like the time Enjolras pushed a freshly made pie out of the heated oven to climb into it himself. Or the first time his parents tried to give him a bath and he boiled the water, steaming up the entire bathroom and drenching both his parents. Or the time he was lost for an hour because he had dragged all the blankets off his bed and gone to sleep in a nest in his closet instead. Not to mention the countless objects, big and small, that fell victim to the dragonish hoarding tendencies of a child that, while extremely intelligent and well-spoken for his age, was certainly not less impulsive because of it.

No, at this point in time Marianne and George were blissfully unaware of all these trials to come. All they knew was how happy they were and how hard they were going to work to make this boy, their son, Enjolras, as happy as they possibly could. Of course such feelings were too overwhelming to leave room for anything else, which is why they must be forgiven for thinking that on this wonderful night they had stolen a baby. Because of course this was not at all what had happened. On this wonderful night, a young dragon had started his first treasured hoard. It was a hoard of two. Two parents.

#dragon!enjolras #for love of lore #enjolras #this took me a very long time #but i had a lot of feelings about this and i wanted to get it right #thank you giinny for your lovely accidental prompt #and thank you talia for helping out as always #sunfreckle's stories

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hihiyas · 7 years

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Exes and Oh’s - Chapter 2/3

[AN: So I couldn’t leave this one alone with a sad ending so I’m continuing it. Still not fluffy, I’m afraid. Tagging @bunnycorcorans for encouraging this tiny ficlet into something that’s been consuming my nights trying to come up with what happens next. Thanks to @lilyismilesaway for enabling me, and to @textsfromumbridge for saying what I wrote gave her feels.

Let me know what you think!]]

Read Chapter 1 here or at AO3

Gabriel Enjolras, alone in Courfeyrac’s flat, threw the liquor cabinet doors wide open and scrutinized the labels. Absinthe, 100 proof. No. Rum, 140 proof. Oh, good. He reached for the dusty Stroh bottle Courfeyrac had bought on a lark during a trip to Austria. 160 proof. He unscrewed the cap and took a sniff.

And was violently thrown back to that summer night they all tried it. He grimaced at the Stroh and switched it for Courfeyrac’s favorite bottle of whiskey.

“Honey, I’m hooooome,” sang Courfeyrac as he made his way through the foyer to his living room. “Gosh, why is it so dark in here? Don't tell me you’re already asleep, Enj-oh, dear.”

The other man blearily looked up from his spot on the living room floor. “Heeey, Courfy. Your rug is so soft, didya know that?”

“Is that why you decided to stay on the floor?”

“Noooo. I was… I slipped from your nice couch and thought, hey, this is what I deserve.”

“You deserve to get drunk,” he paused to inspect the empty bottle beside Enjolras, “on my Talisker no less?”

“It was nice. No wonder you like it a lot,” he paused and appeared to be thinking deeply. “I wonder why she liked me?”

“Who does, love?”

“Éponine,” he replied in a somber tone as if it was a great tragedy. “She shouldn't. I make her sad.”

“She said that you make her sad?”

“I broke her heart, she said. I break hearts, Courf. I make her sad and I never called. I didn't... I didn't mean to, Courfeyrac. You gotta believe me. I thought she wouldn't care. She never said... I never said... Can you break someone's heart when you're just trying to protect them from you? I should have known it was a bad idea. But she and I... I'm terrible at loving someone," he trailed off his rant with a sigh. "Sorry, this is terrible of me, abusing your hospitality like that. I should go.”

“Whoa, whoa! Slow down, buddy,” Courfeyrac guided his friend back to the couch as Enjolras tried to leave. “You are not going anywhere in that condition. Come on, sit down and I'll get you some water, okay?”

By the time he came back with a glass of water, the drunk man was asleep.

“...him like this?”

“...time in college?”

“...Éponine… anything?”

“No, nothing. Well...”

"...knew?"

Enjolras could barely open his eyes but recognized the voices talking. So, Courfeyrac decided to call Combeferre. Merde.

“Awake now?”

“Blergh, no thanks to you two talking so loudly.”

“That’s the hangover talking. Here, easy now,” Combeferre said as he helped his best friend upright on the couch. He handed him a glass of water and some pain reliever.

“Feeling better?”

Enjolras answered with a glare as he cradled his head. How long before aspirin worked on hangovers again?

“I was ready to call an ambulance, to be honest. But Courfeyrac insists that you didn’t drink an entire whiskey bottle,” he continued.

“Good thing that bottle was halfway done, or we’d be having a different conversation,” the other man said. “Think you can eat crackers?”

The blond man wrinkled his nose but took one of the proffered wafers. “Thanks, Mum.”

Courfeyrac clucked good-naturedly at the teasing. “Wanna talk about it, kiddo?”

Enjolras peered at the two concerned faces solemnly staring back at him. “Not really, but you two are going to pester me about this, aren’t you?” he said, resigned to the fact.

“Only because this is the first time we’ve seen you resort to alcohol. That’s not you,” Combeferre replied.

“Oh, right, that’s Grantaire’s job,” he muttered.

The other man gave him a stern look. Courfeyrac looked even more worried.

“Ugh, below the belt, I know. God, I’m sorry. I’m an asshole for bringing that up,” the blond mumbled, burying his face on the couch’s armrest. This was why he didn’t drink. He had no filter, and all the terrible things he’d ever thought came spewing out.

“I ought to smack you for that, but I’m sure you’re flagellating yourself worse than I ever could. But you bring up an excellent point. Grantaire used to do this, a lot. We’re still helping him with his problem. We’d like to help you nip this in the bud so this doesn’t become a habit,” Combeferre quietly said.

Enjolras nodded, feeling guilty and knowing full well he was right.

“So, care to tell us what happened with Eponine that inspired you to get piss-drunk?” asked Courfeyrac.

Slowly, Enjolras told them. That summer before their last year in university. How he and Eponine had steadily become closer. How one day, while they were laughing about some silly thing, they had trailed off, and the next thing he knew he was reaching for her and they ended up making out. (“Just making out?” “Shut up, Courf!”) on her threadbare couch. Nothing changed on the outside, he told them. They were still friends first, he insisted. They still bickered about petty things. They still laughed at each other’s antics. They still commiserated about life in general. They were just… having a bit more fun with each other.

“That’s when I fucked up,” he said.

“When you two became, ah, intimate?” Courfeyrac delicately inquired.

“Maybe? I don’t know,” Enjolras hesitated, trying to explain but felt too much to string words into coherence. “I thought then that it was nothing. No. Not- not nothing. I didn’t think her feelings were... engaged. I thought it was a casual thing for her.”

“But it wasn’t for you?”

Enjolras could only nod. “When I realized it, when she was starting to mean more to me, I ran away like a coward. When Winter Break came, I told her that it was better if we just remained friends.”

“And she agreed?” Combeferre hazarded a guess.

“Yes,” he sighed despondently. “The next time we met, it was like the past months meant nothing to her. At least, that’s how it looked to me. So I followed her lead. I didn’t seek her out. Made sure we weren’t alone. When we graduated, I took the first job that would get me out of Paris.”

“Ah,” Courfeyrac said, exchanging looks with Combeferre. He gently prodded Enjolras to continue, “But you were fine, until yesterday at least. What changed?”

“I just- I just missed her so much, you know? I missed how close our friendship was. And I messed it up. It was my fault we drifted apart,” he rambled, before getting back on track. “I don’t think I was prepared to see her again when I came to your office. I mean, yes, we saw each other the other night at the Corinth, but it’s not like we talked then. But there, at your office, we were entirely alone and we could barely make small talk. She was so hesitant like she didn’t know how to talk to me anymore. And maybe that’s true. And when I tried to tell her how much I missed her, I just didn’t expect her to look so… hurt. She looked so hurt when I said I missed her. I tried to explain, but it was useless. I couldn’t… No words felt enough to explain. She said I broke her heart.”

“And then?”

Enjolras paused as if to recall the scenes from the previous afternoon. The heavy silence between them after her whispered disclosure. All the things that he had wanted to say, but could not shape into words. “She told me to forget it. Like I could. Then she practically ran away from me.”

“And then you came home and decided to drown your sorrows?” continued Courfeyrac.

“I know it was stupid. I just… I couldn't get her sad smile out of my head.”

Combeferre let out a disappointed sigh while Courfeyrac patted his arm in consolation.

“Love turned out to be more difficult than expected, eh?”

“Yes-wait, who said anything about love?”

“You just did,” the two answered.

#enjonine #you are my revolution #fic: exes and oh's #enjolras x eponine #eponine x enjolras #hiyas tries to write

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joly-and-the-satellites · 7 years

Note

So uhm College AU? Grantaire running against Enjolras as President of the student government just to piss him off but Grantaire actually wins and he panics because "this wasn't part of the plan Bossuet stop laughing!" And he ends up asking sour Enj for help.

((Hopefully this is alright, anon!!))

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It was just a joke, for the love of god - just a harmless, playful little jest to get Enjolras’ attention, and maybe rile him up a bit. It was Grantaire’s favorite pastime, after all; and something he was rather skilled at, if he said so himself. The point stood, regardless of his talent: running against Enjolras for the position of Student Government President was nothing more than a joke. Hell, he’d even treated it as one - he wasn’t serious in the slightest, never dressed the part, was never on time, didn’t put up any posters asking for the votes of the other students… whereas, predictably, Enjolras was taking it all in stride with a certain solemnity; the exact opposite of Grantaire’s approach. He was clearly doing all he could to secure the position for himself - which was more than any of the other runners were doing by a mile. There was never a doubt in R’s mind that he would win by a landslide come election time; which was the deciding factor in whether or not he’d run against him. Enjolras already had it, as far as he was concerned. Which was why, when it had been announced that Grantaire had been named President, he’d choked on his drink to the point of scaring Joly into thinking he’d somehow managed to drown himself. Now, Grantaire was sitting on the edge of his bed, wine bottle in hand, wide-eyed, and struggling to fully grasp the situation. It was absolutely ridiculous. Sure, he was sociable with others, got into less altercations, and was generally more laid-back and involved in things outside of politics than Enjolras; but that hardly meant he was President material! He was a far cry from it! He was no problem-solver, nor was he well-informed on the concerns and questions of the student body, as a whole or as segments; and he didn’t even understand what it all entailed! Did he have powers? Could he actually do anything with his title? Was he suddenly going to flooded with questions from other students? Would it give him any leeway if he turned an essay in a few hours past due? Grantaire ran a hand through his already unkempt hair, and took a swig from his bottle. “I cannot believe,” he started, only to be cut off by a snort from Bossuet, who sat next to him. He shot him a disbelieving glance - the other had a hand over his mouth to hide a mirthful grin, but his eyes were shining with laughter he was barely holding back. “I cannot believe - they elected me! What the fuck!?” Grantaire groaned in sorrow. He was nowhere near drunk enough for this. Bossuet broke into honest laughter then, shaking his head and wiping at his eye as if he’d teared up. R gaped at him, lowering the bottle to the floor before he turned to face him. How could he laugh!? This was an absolute disaster! “This wasn’t part of the plan, Bossuet!” He protested; this time, Bossuet snorted. Joly, who was at the desk typing up a paper on his laptop, snickered under his breath this time. Grantaire whipped around to face his other friend with a look of shock. Joly cast an innocent glance over his shoulder before he went back to typing, but his shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. Grantaire couldn’t believe this betrayal from his own best friends! It was treason! Dissent in the ranks! “Stop laughing!” R said, exasperation clear in his voice. “Alright, alright - I’m sorry!” Bossuet grinned, holding up his hands in surrender. It was exceedingly obvious, Grantaire decided, that he was not at all sorry. “It’s just… you were kind of asking for this, ‘Taire.” R was sure he was gawking at him; but he could safely say that his confusion was perfectly reasonable. There was no logical explanation for why R had won the election - but that hardly mattered now. Now, he was stuck with the aftermath; and more importantly, how he was to deal with it. He had responsibilities now that he wasn’t even aware of, he was sure, and he’d feel a bit stupid if he were to ask a staff member what his own job was supposed to entail. But he couldn’t travel through time, and he couldn’t call it off, or pass the job along to someone else– Grantaire grabbed his bottle from the floor again. “This is insane,” he groused. Joly leaned back in his chair with his arm slung over the armrest, the wood creaking faintly. He raised an eyebrow at Grantaire, seemingly doing all he could to withhold a smile. “He isn’t wrong, R. You knew the risk you were taking,” he informed him, a little giggle slipping out between his words. “Maybe you should just call Enjolras, admit that you don’t know what you’re doing, and ask for his help.” Grantaire choked on the wine he was gulping down at that suggestion - Bossuet, ever helpful, whacked him squarely between the shoulders. Grantaire ended up coughing. “For a doctor, you’re causing your patients a lot of problems,” Bossuet teased as R finally caught his breath, grabbing a half-emptied water bottle sitting on the bedside table instead. Joly shrugged a shoulder playfully, turning back to his laptop with a shake of his head. “I’m only saying - you need someone’s advice, R, and Enjolras would definitely be willing to help. Besides, he’s still a little bitter about the loss. Maybe this could gloss things over with him…?” Grantaire sighed heavily at that, dropping his head onto Bossuet’s shoulder for support; the other patted his shoulder sympathetically. Yet another downside to winning this horrendous election. Enjolras had suspected that Grantaire was only antagonizing him by running; and no doubt, he was probably more than just a bit upset about losing it to him in spite of his best effort. He had sent a short, too-formal ’Congratulations on the win.’ that morning, and he had not seen a single text or call since - apparently, neither had anyone else, with the exception of Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Grantaire liked to get him riled up, yes; but he didn’t like to make him angry, let alone upset. For all Enjolras was undoubtedly annoyed then, R knew he was at least a little morose about losing, and the knowledge was tearing him up a bit. He hadn’t intended to win; and never would he intend to cause him any dismay. But if he called now - admitted that it was all a joke gone wrong, that he had no idea what he was doing and couldn’t handle the duties of President on his own - Enjolras would be furious, and rightly so. Grantaire finally insisted, “I can’t call him.” Bossuet took a deep breath, leaning back on his hands - R followed the motion seamlessly, too distressed over the situation to bother with sitting back up. For all that their advice seemed impossible to follow through with, he was incredibly thankful for their presence here. He couldn’t ask for better friends than these two. “I agree with Joly-” “Thank you.” “-you really should call him. Whatever you think will happen, it won’t; I promise,” Bossuet assured him. “He might be a little annoyed, but he’s not going to hate you for asking for some advice. Just trust us on this one, alright…?” Grantaire glanced at his phone, which was sitting by his pillow; he had a handful of texts that he hadn’t yet responded to, almost all of which were concerning his position as President of Student Government… aside from some link to an undoubtedly ridiculous video Joly had sent him ten minutes ago. His head was suddenly filled with the thousand routes this scenario could follow. Enjolras might be furious. He might be annoyed. Maybe he’ll hang up. Maybe he’s blocked R. Maybe he won’t answer at all. Maybe… Bossuet nudged his shoulder lightly, as if hearing his doubts. Grantaire gave a heavy sigh, grabbing his phone as if sentencing himself to death as he shot Joly a rueful look. “I don’t understand why you’re always right.” Joly gave him a too-sweet smile, batting his eyelashes at R as he unlocked his phone. He pulled up his contact list - Apollo was the first name. He tapped the name, opening it up; but he just couldn’t bring himself to press the call button. His eyes wandered to the contact picture - one he’d snapped at a protest a year or so back, where Enjolras was holding a pride flag high over his head and above the crowd, his hair illuminated by the midday sun. God, he was stupid. Bossuet reached over, fast as lightning, and pressed the call button. R felt his heart stop as he scrambled to end the call, fumbling with the phone and almost dropping it. “Bossuet!” He screeched in horror, much to the amusement of the other two. Luckily, he hung up before anyone could answer - and he immediately shot the other a look of mock-annoyance before tackling him, almost throwing them both onto the floor. Bossuet pulled R’s hood up over his head and yanked the drawstrings shut with a laugh, pushing him back by the face. Temporarily blinded, Grantaire flailed to smack his hand away with a laugh, struggling to pull the hood loose and back from his face…… and his phone was playing Enjolras’ custom ringtone. Suddenly, the room was in dead silence, save from the phone’s tune. All of them swiveled to stare at it at once. Enjolras’ picture was on the screen - he was calling back. “… Joly, my love, text Bahorel, please.”“Why…?”“I need to know if R can legally kill me for this.”“Yes, probably.”“I’ll leave my lucky socks to you.”“Those socks are not lucky.”Grantaire was running on auto-pilot when he took the call; maybe he was a bit more drunk than he’d first believed. He held the phone up to his ear almost cautiously, glancing between the two as if they could offer him any help. Joly have a guilty smile, and Bossuet shrugged helplessly. “Hello? Grantaire, can you hear me?” Enjolras asked from the other end of the call. He didn’t sound upset, nor did he sound annoyed - but he was definitely on the fence of both. Grantaire cleared his throat nervously. “Uh… yes. Yes, I am hear you.” “You called me and hung up before I could answer,” Enjolras stated. “Butt dial,” Grantaire said quickly. “I sat on the button.” “Grantaire.”“Anyway, how were classes today? Anything interesting happen? Any essays? Projects?”“Grantaire.”“Yes?” He croaked. “Why did you call?”Silence overtook the call for a moment. Oh, no. How was he to explain this? He hadn’t had any time to think over what he would say, how he would ask, what he’d do if Enjolras didn’t take the request favorably–“Is something wrong?” The other asked, much more softly. Grantaire was so taken aback by the question that he couldn’t quite respond; he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing properly for a moment. “Are you alright? I can be over in five minutes, R, give or take-” “No! - no, it’s alright, really, you don’t need to come over. I, uh… I’m perfectly fine. Nothing’s wrong. But I… might need help with something.” There was another break of awkwardly heavy silence, and Grantaire was suddenly very aware of Bossuet watching him in nervous anticipation. Enjolras sounded guarded when he next spoke, a certain edge to his words. “With what?”Grantaire took a deep breath to steel himself, feeling as if his face was burning. God, this was embarrassing - maybe he’d stop picking at him after this. (He knew he wouldn’t, but it seemed a sound solution.)“I… don’t think I can actually be President of Student Government, because I’ve got no idea what my responsibilities are and I didn’t intend to actually win or be taken seriously…?”Silence dragged out unbearably. It felt like seconds were crawling by at the pace of an elderly snail. R, for a moment, wished he would have just lied about it, or made something up on the fly. That would have been much easier than whatever hell he was about to unleash. “Unbelievable,” Enjolras said shortly. He didn’t sound furious; he wasn’t raising his voice. But then again, he didn’t need to. His tone said enough. He cringed. There was the fire and ice Grantaire was expecting. “You do know that any sort of election within the student body isn’t to be treated like a joke, correct? This was serious. I was serious.” Enjolras continued on. R ran a hand through his hair, shoulders slouching like a scolded puppy. “Yeah, I know. But… for what it’s worth, I didn’t think I had a chance in hell at winning. I was so sure you’d already won it,” he replied, hoping he wasn’t just feeding gasoline to the flames. Enjolras sighed sharply; Grantaire could almost imagine him rubbing at his temple to push back a headache. Wrong move on his part, apparently. “So what do you need to know?” Enjolras asked, his tone clipped and words short. Oh, you’ve put your foot in your mouth this time, Grantaire thought to himself bitterly.

“Well… I was really thinking that maybe you could just… help me do the right thing?” R started, trying not to sound too hopeful. Maybe if he took the right approach, Enjolras wouldn’t be so sour with him; maybe he’d convince him to help and patch things up between them a bit in the process. “You know better than I do what the other students need, I mean. You’re more in touch with what’s wrong, what’s unfair, what needs fixing; I just thought that… well, that you could help guide me along…?” The air was filled with the anticipation from his friends, and worry from himself; he could hear his heart drumming away as if caught between his ears, and could almost see Enjolras, sitting in his own room, phone in hand while he considered the request. Finally, he gave an annoyed huff. “Fine. But you had better not run against me next year, R.”Grantaire grimaced. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”“… I’ll be over soon. I’d rather talk in person than over the phone,” Enjolras announced. He sounded a bit aggravated, but nowhere near as incensed as he’d been before - really, he just sounded exhausted with the whole situation. R was hoping that was an improvement, if nothing else. “Have I ever told you that you’re the best person in the world, Apollo?” Enjolras immediately went back to his long-suffering, exasperated tone.“Please, don’t.”“No, really.”“R, I’m hanging up.”“Oh, come on! What will it take? Do I have to serenade you? Take you to a romantic dinner? I hear that the restaurant down on–hello? Enjolras?”“Did he hang up on you?” Joly cackled, already closing his laptop to leave. “No,” Grantaire argued childishly. “He lost service, that’s all.”

#I call this one: Karma's a Bitch #alternatively: R Has No Sense of Consequence #les miserables #modern au #enjolras #grantaire #joly #bossuet #college au #exr #modern au exr #college au exr #joly's journal

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maraudersing · 8 years

Text

Partnerless

first part of Something on Ice // ao3

Depending on who you ask, Éponine and Montparnasse are the best ice dancing duo in the world. Depending on who you ask, Cosette and Enjolras are the best ice dancing duo in the world. No matter who you ask, the two duos are enemies, and have been going head to head since the beginning of time. When misfortune and criminal activity put Cosette and Montparnasse out of competition, Éponine and Enjolras are left partnerless- unless they partner with each other.

“Miss Thenardier! How does it feel to be the biggest scandal in the ice skating world since Harding and Kerrigan?”

“This is the ice skating world, how big does any scandal really get?” Eponine says, taking a drink from the bottle of water in front of her. “Next question.”

“Have you spoken to Montparnasse since the trial?”

Eponine scowls, and Grantaire shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “No comment,” he says.

“Yeah,” Eponine mutters, “funnily enough, my drug lord ex-boyfriend has no comments for me.”

Grantaire glares at her. “Next question,” he directs to the press.

“Miss Thenardier, are you going to make a comeback?”

Eponine blinks, and then smiles. “A comeback, Miss….?”

“Josephs.”

“Miss Josephs, I ask you, who is the most relevant person in the ice skating world today?” Éponine arches an eyebrow. Before the reporter can answer, she continues. “I am. I can’t make a comeback if I never left. Press conference over.” She smiles dangerously, stands up, and, ignoring the yelling of the reporters and the flashing of the cameras, walked off the stage and out of the room.

“You could at least give me some heads up before you tank a press conference,” Grantaire snaps, half an hour later when he finally makes it to the car.

“They pissed me off,” Éponine says simply, dropping her cigarette on the pavement and grinding it out with the heel of her boot.

“Everyone pisses you off,” Grantaire says. “And you shouldn’t be smoking where they can get pictures of you. The last thing we need is another scandal on our hands.”

“They can’t get pictures of me if I’m hiding behind your car,” Éponine says, “and smoking cigarettes isn’t illegal.”

“Certainly doesn’t look good, though,” says Grantaire. “Get in the car.”

Éponine obliges, and Grantaire turns the engine. “You know, I’m trying really hard to rebuild our image here, but you’re making it really difficult with all the rebellious behavior.”

Éponine barks a laugh. “I’m sorry, did the pot just call the kettle black? You can hardly scold me for rebellious behavior when you decked Montparnasse.”

“That was different. It was warranted. He had just been found with two kilos of cocaine in his equipment bag. I was allowed to deck him.”

“Whatever,” Éponine says.

“Éponine,” Grantaire sighs, flicking on his turn signal as they pulled up to a traffic light, “if you want to get back out there competing, you have to start behaving like it. It’s not enough that we passed the drug tests when the rest of our team didn’t. Brujon, Babet, and Claquesous were all caught in that raid, and they all failed their tests, in addition to Mont. People still don’t trust us. They think there’s no way that we didn’t know about the warehouse, and what those idiots were doing behind closed doors, and frankly, they have a point. But I am trying really hard to paint us in a positive light. We look suspicious, though, and we’re going to look suspicious until you get your act together and start cooperating.”

“What does it matter?” Éponine snaps. She hesitates. She doesn’t want to admit what’s on both of their minds: partnerless. “I’m not entering as a solo. I’m done, R.”

“Not quite,” Grantaire says, smiling to himself.

“What?” Éponine whips her head to look at him. “What do you mean, ‘not quite?’”

“I mean I’ve been doing some talking, and I think I’ve found you a new partner.”

“Drink,” Combeferre orders, appearing alongside Courfeyrac in the gym. “You’re going to dehydrate yourself if you don’t.” He tosses a waterbottle at Enjolras, who catches it and sheds his boxing gloves.

“Well,” Courfeyrac says, giving the boxing bag a heavy shove, “I’m glad you’ve moved on from beating yourself up to beating up inanimate objects.”

Enjolras glares at him, and took a drink. “I don’t want to get out of shape. When Cosette comes back I have to be ready to compete, and I won’t be ready if I don’t keep training.”

“Training includes being on the ice and practicing with a partner, E,” Courfeyrac says.

“If there’s a partner willing to train with me,” Enjolras says.

“The issue is not lack of partners,” Courfeyrac says, “it’s your unwillingness to train with any of them. There are plenty of girls who would kill to skate with you.”

“I want to skate with Cosette,” Enjolras says.

“Which brings me to our next issue,” says Courfeyrac. “Cosette’s x-rays came back.” He shares an uneasy look with Combeferre, and Enjolras narrows his eyes.

“And?” he asks. “I thought we agreed that it isn’t a career ending injury. She’s going to rehab, and she’ll be back on the ice in no time. So, we might miss Nationals, but who cares? The Board knows who we are, they know what we’re capable of, and there’s no way they’ll leave us off the roster for Worlds.”

Combeferre steps forward, and Enjolras stops in his tracks. “It appears,” he says, delicately, “that Cosette’s injury is not entirely what we thought it was.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Enjolras demands.

“Cosette’s hip isn’t fractured, Enj,” Combeferre says. “It’s shattered.”

Enjolras takes a deep breath, runs his hands through his hair, and throws a punch at the boxing bag. “Dammit!” he shouts.

“Told you he would take it like this,” Courfeyrac mutters to Combeferre.

Enjolras rests his forehead against the bag, taking several deep breaths. Cosette’s hip, shattered, and his fault. It’s several moments before he regains himself and turns back around, his face a mask of composure. “How long until she’s back on the ice?” Combeferre and Courfeyrac share another uneasy look. “Well?” Enjolras demands. “How long?”

Courfeyrac hesitates, and stares uncomfortably at a spot on the wall behind Enjolras.

“This is a career ending injury,” Combeferre finally says.

There’s a moment of agonizing silence, while the word that nobody is willing to say hangs in the air. Partnerless.

“Is she going to be okay?” Enjolras finally whispers. “Will she be able to walk again? Will she—will she and Marius be able to have kids? Oh, God.”

“She’ll walk again,” Combeferre says. “It’ll be a long road to healing, but she’ll be okay.”

Enjolras closed his eyes, and sank down to the mat. “This is my fault,” he says. “I shouldn’t have agreed to do the lift. She said she was ready, but I knew we couldn’t pull it off, and I went through with it anyway.”

“This isn’t your fault, Enjolras,” Courfeyrac says. “Cosette doesn’t blame you, she blames herself. Accidents happen, you guys couldn’t be perfect every time.”

“There’s a difference between messing up a lift and messing up someone’s entire life, Courf,” Enjolras says. “Her career is over, because of me.”

“There’s nothing we can do about that now, though, Enjolras. We have to focus on your career.”

“My career? My career is over, too!”

Courfeyrac bites his lip. “Well,” he says, “maybe it’s not.“

Enjolras lifts his head, and raises his eyebrows. “My partner is permanently off the ice, because I dropped her. We didn’t even get the chance to go to the Olympics, Courf. We had so much time, and now she’s never going to skate again, and you’re telling me that my career isn’t over?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

“What is your magic solution, then? I’d love to hear it.”

Courfeyrac grins, and Enjolras immediately recognizes it as the kind of grin that accompanies only Courfeyrac’s most outlandish ideas. “I know somebody else who’s looking for a partner.”

“This is an awful idea,” Éponine says. “You want me to skate with my mortal enemy? No way. Not happening.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Éponine,” Grantaire sings, putting the car in park. “Besides, this is ice skating, not Harry Potter. You don’t have a ‘mortal enemy.’”

“Well if I did, it would be him They beat us at Skate America last year, when we clearly should have won.”

“They beat you at the Skate America last year because they didn’t fuck up their lifts during the short program, not because they’re evil incarnate.”

“I did not fuck up our lifts during the short program. Montparnasse fucked up our lifts during the short program.”

“But you know who didn’t fuck up his lifts during the short program? Enjolras.”

“Doesn’t stop him from being my mortal enemy.”

“Whatever,” Grantaire says, rolling his eyes. “We’re going to go meet with Enjolras and his choreographer. We’re going to have coffee, and we’re going to discuss the options. Nothing is for sure, yet. Just give him a chance.”

“What don’t you understand about mortal enemy?”

“This is your only option, ‘Ponine!” Grantaire says, throwing his hands in the air. “Either you partner with Enjolras, or you don’t compete. In case you’ve forgotten, people still don’t trust you. One half of the best ice dancing duo in the world just went down in a cocaine bust, and the other walked out unscathed? I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: it seems unbelievable. You’re lucky to even have this shot.”

“I’m lucky?” Éponine demands. “He’s the lucky one! Cosette was never a threat to me, I could dance circles around her! He should be begging me to skate with him.”

“I wouldn’t be so cocky,” Grantaire chastised. “Cosette was a brilliant skater, and even you have to admit that.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that we beat them at Worlds last year.”

“Or the fact that they beat you at Skate America.”

“We won Nationals.”

“They won Worlds before that.”

“Fine!” Éponine says, slamming her hands on the dashboard. “We’ll go in there, we’ll talk, and when it doesn’t work out, you owe me a drink.”

“Deal,” Grantaire turns off the car with an air of finality. “Let’s go.”

Éponine grumbled, but opened the door to get out of the car.

“And ‘Ponine?” Grantaire calls, following her. “Try not to fall in love with this one.”

Éponine scoffs. “Fat chance. Blondes who like boys aren’t exactly my type.”

“I hate this idea,” Enjolras says, glaring daggers at Courfeyrac as they head towards the Café Musain. “How can we even trust her? Doesn’t it seem at all suspicious to you that her partner and boyfriend, not to mention her doctor, her costumer, and her choreographer all get busted for coke, and she walks away from it all with only a bruised reputation? There’s no way she didn’t know about that warehouse.”

“I’ve known R forever, Enj, I told you,” Courfeyrac says, typing out a text message. “And he says they weren’t involved. If he says it, I believe it.”

“I still don’t like the idea of skating with her,” Enjolras says. “We have completely different styles.”

“No you don’t, that was a dumb excuse.”

“She won’t even want me as a partner.”

“But she has to acknowledge that you’re good, Enj. You’re better than Montparnasse, and she’s better than Cosette.” Courfeyrac holds up a finger to silence Enjolras when he starts to interrupt. “Don’t deny it, you know it’s true. She’s easily the best girl out there, and you’re the best guy. That’s why you’ve always been at each other’s throats.”

“That still doesn’t change the fact that I dropped my partner and broke her hip, nobody will want to skate with me now.”

“Please, Enjolras, let’s just give this a shot,” Courfeyrac says. “It’s just coffee. Let’s just talk before we even freak out about partners.”

“Fine. But when this goes belly up, you owe me a drink.”

“Deal.”

Éponine and Grantaire are already seated when Enjolras and Courfeyrac arrive at the crowded Café. It’s the lunch rush, and the pair wave at Musichetta, who’s she tending the counter. A few heads turn, either because ice skating has been receiving ten times as much attention as it normally does, given the fact that the two best teams in the country are both being rocked by scandal at the same time, or because Enjolras is simply that beautiful that he turns heads. Either way, it irritates Éponine. The two make their way to a table nestled into the back corner, where she and Grantaire are sitting in stony silence over cups of coffee. She is glaring at her phone, angrily typing out a text message and determinedly not looking up as Enjolras and Courfeyrac approach. Grantaire, on the other hand, smiles and stands, extending a hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you outside of competition, Enjolras,” he says, shaking his hand. Enjolras can’t help but notice that his hands are soft, and that he doesn’t altogether hate the feeling of it. “I’m very impressed with your talent.”

Enjolras smiles. “The pleasure is mine, Grantaire. You do great work with Éponine and Montparnasse.”

Grantaire nods his head in thanks, and shakes Courfeyrac’s hand. “Courfeyrac, I presume?”

“That’s me,” Courfeyrac says, beaming, “resident choreographer and publicist. Thrilled to meet you.”

The three look at Éponine, who is still focusing intently on her phone, and has yet to show any acknowledgement of Enjolras and Courfeyrac’s presence.

“’Ponine,” Grantaire mutters, nudging her leg with his foot. “Say hello.”

She rolls her eyes but stands up, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder and dropping her phone on the table. “What’s the point in introductions?” she says, looking Enjolras up and down. “We know each other, under no pleasant circumstances, and now these two buffoons are trying to make us partners.”

“I told you this would go well,” Enjolras mutters to Courfeyrac.

“Éponine!” Grantaire hisses at her.

“Right, sorry,” she rolls her eyes again and offers a hand to Enjolras, who takes it. “Éponine Thenardier. World champion. I’m not used to seeing you from this height, normally I’m one step above you on the podium.”

Enjolras accepts her handshake with his characteristic grace, but for a moment they have a battle of wills, testing who has the firmer handshake, until he flashes her a brilliant smile and lets go. “Yes, you’re much shorter in this position. But last time we met, as you’ll recall, I was the one on top of the podium.”

Éponine scowls and takes her hand back, sitting back down and crossing her legs. The others take their cue from her, and they take their seats.

“You won the European Championships,” she says. “We won Nationals last year, and Worlds.”

“We won Worlds the year before, and Paris this year.”

Éponine narrows her eyes and opens her mouth to respond, but Grantaire cuts in before she can.

“We get the point. You’re at a tie. Eight and eight wins in the past two years of competition. That makes you two parts of the most successful French ice dancing teams in history, and World Champions.” They’re interrupted by a waitress bringing over drinks for Enjolras and Courfeyrac, and Enjolras smiles at Chetta’s foresight to send over their usuals without even asking. The waitress hovers for a moment, clearly intrigued, but leaves when the tension surrounding the foursome becomes intolerable.

“You’re both excellent,” Courfeyrac says. “There’s no question there. In two different pairs, you’ve been dominating the ice for the past two years. Worlds, Nationals, Euros, the Grand Prix, you’ve got titles in all of them.”

Grantaire stirs his Bloody Mary with a celery stick, and looks up. “But neither of you have the Olympics.”

Éponine sucks in a breath, and balls her napkin in her fist. Of course Grantaire would bring up the thing that stung most about Montparnasse’s mistake—the fact that they’d never had the chance to compete on the greatest athletic stage in the world. She’d used to think about it constantly; they would wow the judges with a spectacular dance, and they would win gold. Enjolras and Cosette would have to admit that she and Montparnasse were the better pair, and their rivalry would be put to bed. She and Montparnasse would have amazing sex in a hotel room in Russia, and would spend their free days exploring the city and supporting their team. In the weeks since Montparnasse’s arrest, and the high-profile trial, the question on everybody’s mind (including Éponine’s) had been: “What about the Olympics?” It hovered in the press room, always at the front of every reporter’s lips, while Éponine tried desperately to shove it to the back of her mind. Now, when she’s finally beginning to reconcile herself with the fact that she will never be the Olympian she hoped and dreamed of being, Grantaire drags it to the forefront of her mind again, and Éponine wants to dump her latte over his head.

She takes a deep breath instead, and narrows her eyes. “You can’t possibly expect me to come out on top of this year’s circuit with somebody I’ve spent my entire life competing against, not with. It took ‘Parnasse and I twelve years to get to our level of comfort with each other. We haven’t even skated together for twelve minutes.”

“I’m not really inclined to agree with anything Éponine says,” Enjolras says, folding his arms over his chest, “but she has a point. We’ve never skated together. We can’t beat pairs that have lifetimes of experience with each other in the national circuit, let alone the global.”

“If you’re really as good as everyone thinks you are, you’ll be able to skate with each other,” Courfeyrac says. Enjolras glares at him, and he raises his hands in defense. “I’m just stating the truth.”

There’s a moment of silence where everyone drinks their coffee, and Enjolras seems to way his options. Éponine holds her breath, wondering if he’ll make her decision for her.

“Fine,” he finally says. “I’m in.” Courfeyrac beams, Grantaire nods, Éponine hides her face in her hands, but Enjolras doesn’t smile. “But I’m only one half of this duo. Éponine?”

His prompt is met by silence, Éponine can feel the gazes of the three boring into her skull.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “I don’t like it.”

“The entire world’s eyes are on you!” Grantaire snaps. “Everyone is waiting to see what happens, because in case it’s escaped your notice, both of you have been dethroned. The way I see it, you have two options: you can either partner with each other, and become the best skating duo the world has ever seen, or you can throw in the towel and be done before your careers even take off.”

There’s a nasty silence where Éponine and Grantaire glare daggers at each other. Fights like this haven’t been uncommon in the stress of the last few weeks, but Éponine is determined not to lose this one. The question, she knows, is which side of this fight is the losing side.

“Éponine,” Grantaire says, his tone softening. “I know what you’ve given up to get here. Do you want to throw it all away before you ever get the chance you’ve been working for your whole life?”

“Grantaire,” Éponine levels, “if it were anybody other than him.”

“You don’t have much of a choice,” Enjolras says. A muscle in his jaw twitches, and Éponine notes that it’s the same muscle that twitches whenever she finds herself above him on the podium. It gives her a wicked stab of satisfaction to know that she’s gotten to him, however petty she knows she’s being. “People aren’t exactly lining up to be your partner, given that they still think you’re guilty of being part of an international drug smuggling ring, and you’ve fought with the press about this at every chance.”

“I had no idea about the cocaine,” Éponine growls. “And you can’t blame me for being testy with the press. How would you feel, if your idiot ex-partner and boyfriend disgraced you?”

“You need me,” Enjolras ploughs forward, ignoring her bait, and Éponine grinds her teeth. “Cosette and I were the golden couple. Yes, you and Montparnasse were an excellent duo, but we both know that there’s only so far that being edgy can take you.”

“Are you saying I can’t skate?”

“On the contrary, I’m saying you’re an incredible skater. As good as Cosette—”

“Better,” Grantaire interjects. “In case you haven’t noticed, Éponine didn’t fall and shatter her hip.” Éponine gives him a small smile; this is his way of apologizing for their brief spat, and she appreciates the compliment.

Enjolras pauses for a second, and Courfeyrac leans across the table to rest a hand atop of his.

“That’s beside the point,” he says, his voice controlled and even when he finally continues. “Cosette had an accident, and there’s nothing that can be done about it. The point is that we make up the better halves of our respective duos. In theory, if we skated together, we would be unbeatable.”

Éponine chews on her lip, staring at the latte in front of her. He isn’t wrong about that—she’d be lying if she said Montparnasse was a better skater than Enjolras. Comparable, certainly, but better? Not a chance. She’d spent too much time examining their losses to Enjolras and Cosette not to realize where the problems lie—Enjolras’s technique, Enjolras’s strength, Enjolras’s Golden Boy charm. Montparnasse never could quite match up, and with him now out of the picture, she would be a fool not to take the opportunity to skate with Enjolras.

“Well?” Courfeyrac asks, and she flicks her eyes up to meet Grantaire’s. Grantaire, who would never make her do anything she didn’t want to do, but who desperately wants her to continue. Who feels awful about the drug bust, who blames himself for no reason, who’s always been her biggest fan.

“I’m in.”

Courfeyrac beams, if possible, even wider, and rubs his hands together. “Brilliant! Here’s the address of our rink, meet tomorrow at seven in the weight room. We’ll start in the gym before we move to the ice.”

“Make it eight,” Éponine says. “I have to take my brother to school.”

“Eight it is! I have to tell the rest of our team that we’re back on. And should I schedule a press conference? Enjolras, meet me at the car!” Without another word, Courfeyrac is out of his chair and hurrying through the café, already dialing someone’s number on his phone.

“Excitable,” Éponine remarks.

“Well,” Enjolras says, awkwardly. “I hope this works out.” He offers his hand to Grantaire, who shook it, and then to Éponine.

She meets his eyes, and can tell that even if this scenario isn’t what either of them truly want, he’s at least genuine. “Me too,” she says, taking his hand. She’s surprised to find she’s not entirely lying.

“I’ll see you at eight,” he says, standing from the table and swinging his jacket around his shoulders. “Don’t be late, we’ve only got twelve years to catch up on.” With the barest hint of a smile, he follows Courfeyrac out the door, and leaves Grantaire and Éponine alone at the table.

“You know what, R?” Éponine says, smirking into her latte.

“What?” he asks.

“I don’t think we have to worry about me falling in love with this one.“

"Why’s that? Because he’s a bit of an arrogant prick?”

“Nope. Because you just couldn’t keep your eyes off him.”

“She’s late,” Enjolras says, throwing a punch at the boxing bag. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

“You were all for it yesterday,” Courfeyrac calls from where he’s lounging on the assisted pull-up machine. “Have a positive attitude, please. Smiles make the world go ‘round!”

“I’m late by one minute,” Éponine says, suddenly appearing. “Are you going to punch me? Because I’ll tell you right now that that won’t fly.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes, but strips off his gloves and steps off the mat. “It’s how I like to warm up. And I don’t like latecomers.”

“There was traffic on my way here, and I thought I was at the wrong place when I walked in and saw a million hockey players. I thought we had the gym this morning. Isn’t it a bad idea for a bunch of people to see us working together before anything’s official?”

“We’re sharing with the National team,” Courfeyrac says. “They’re nice guys.”

“One of them asked me to hook him up with some coke on my way in.”

“Most of them are nice guys.”

“Anyway,” Enjolras interrupts. “Hockey team aside, can we start? Where’s Grantaire?”

Éponine shrugs off her jacket and stretches her arms over her head. “He said he’d meet us in a bit. I think he’s hungover.”

Enjolras frowns. “It’s Tuesday.”

“Let’s leave the judgement to the panelists at Nationals, okay? I’m here now, and Grantaire will be here soon and he’ll want to get us right on the ice. So, let’s do some dancing, let’s do some lifting, and let’s make this work.”

“Glad to see you have such a positive attitude, Éponine!” Courfeyrac says. “What did I tell you about smiles, Enjolras? Let’s get started.”

As far as just working out goes, Enjolras figures it could have been worse. Éponine is stronger than Cosette, and is terrifyingly adept at using his body like a jungle gym for lifts, and her technique is near flawless. Her whole team might have a reputation for volatility and drunkenness, but there was doubt that she’s devoted herself to her training for years, and it has certainly paid off. By the time Grantaire shows up in the gym Enjolras is sweating from trying to keep up with her, and she doesn’t even have a hair out of place.

“Look at you two, working as a team,” Grantaire croons, appearing next to Courfeyrac while Enjolras and Éponine are practicing a lift. “Enjolras, you better not lift her without your knees in proper position, and your left foot is sickled.”

“It won’t be when it’s in a skate,” Enjolras growls, but makes the correction nonetheless.

“Sloppy technique on the floor translates into sloppy technique on the ice,” Grantaire says. “I’m your coach now, and I do not tolerate sloppiness.”

This seems a tad like hypocrisy to Enjolras, given that Grantaire himself is wearing a paint stained tee shirt, and appears not to have shaved in several days. He looks to Courfeyrac for help, but Courfeyrac says nothing. “Why were you late?” he asks.

“Hangover,” Grantaire shrugs. “I needed a lie in.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes. “Good to see you lot take this about as seriously as the rest of your team. You know, the ones now serving time in prison for cocaine possession.”

Grantaire narrows his eyes, and takes a step forward. Enjolras stands to meet him, his arms crossed over his chest. “Listen, Apollo, you were all for this yesterday, but now you’re determined to talk back to me? I don’t know if you’re not a morning person, or what your deal is, but if you have a problem with the way I coach my skaters, you can get out. Because our eight titles seem to say that I’m doing something right.”

“Your ex-skater charged with a felony seems to say otherwise.”

For a second it seems like Grantaire might hit Enjolras, but instead he shakes his head, and steps back. “One hundred push-ups. Proper form. Now.”

Éponine smirks from behind him, and adjusts her splits to stretch her right leg.

“You too, ‘Ponine! Let’s go, I want you on the ice in ten minutes!” It’s Enjolras’s turn to smirk this time, as Éponine makes an indignant noise.

“What the hell did I do?” she cries. “R!”

“You’re a team, now,” he says. “When one of you is in trouble, both of you are in trouble.”

Éponine shoots a glare at Enjolras, but rolls to her stomach to start her push-ups.

On the ice, Enjolras begrudgingly has to admit that Grantaire has done phenomenal work in training Éponine. He’d spent long hours with Valjean and Cosette by his side, watching and comparing performance tapes, and he had always known that Éponine had the edge when it came to technique, but now, finally working with her first hand, he’s forced to say out loud that, no matter how much he loves Cosette, Éponine is undoubtedly better than her, and that the two of them working together made perfect sense.

Would make perfect sense, if they could get past the fact that it was each other.

“Come on, Éponine!” Grantaire shouts from the side of the rink. “You’ve been doing this lift since you were thirteen years old!”

Enjolras offers her his hand, but she pushes herself up from the ice on her own.

“I’m not used to him!” Éponine shouts back. “I’ve been skating with Montparnasse for years; I know exactly where to put my hands! Enjolras is different!”

Enjolras feels that this is a poorly disguised way of saying she doesn’t want to work with him, but he grits his teeth and straightens his shoulders nonetheless.

“Let’s just give it another go,” he says. “It’s a simple lift, but it’s essential. We can’t do any acrobatics until we get down the basics together.”

Courfeyrac comes to a stop next to them, and rests a hand on each of their shoulders.

“I know this isn’t going as well as we hoped,” he says, “but I know you both are capable of this. Éponine, reach farther with your right hand to get around Enjolras’s shoulders. Enjolras, your stance is too wide. Éponine is smaller than Cosette, you don’t need quite as much power to lift her.” He gives them each a smile, then skates off to join Grantaire at the edge of the ice.

“Again!” Grantaire shouts. “Go!”

“I swear to God,” Éponine mutters, but takes Enjolras’s hand nonetheless. “If you drop me again, I’ll—”

“I wouldn’t drop you if you’d trust me,” Enjolras mutters back.

It’s not that the lift is hard, it’s that they’re not in sync, and even the most clueless spectator could tell. It’s too apparent that they’ve never done this together in the way their feet are not moving at the same time, and when Éponine puts her skate on Enjolras’s leg, his knees aren’t bent and his stance is too wide. Her right hand reaches for his shoulder, misses, and they both go tumbling to the ice.

“Dammit!”

“Again!” Grantaire shouts from the side, ruthless.

“No!” Éponine shouts back. “Not again, no more! This isn’t working, let’s just admit it!”

“Why are you so determined for this to go up in flames?” Enjolras snaps, finally losing his composure. “I know your last partner was an asshole, but why can’t we just try to make this work?”

“Don’t call Montparnasse an asshole!” she rounds on him. “You didn’t even know him!”

“Éponine, the guy sold cocaine, jeopardized your career, and broke your heart! How can you defend him?”

“People make mistakes!”

“A mistake is fucking up your lifts at Euros. Being part of an international drug ring is not a mistake—it’s a conscious decision to ruin your own career, and everyone else’s around you.”

“You don’t know anything about what happened,” Éponine says, low and dangerous, and Enjolras isn’t sure what makes him say what he says next, but he does it anyway.

“You were in on it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just tell me the truth. Were you in on the drug deals, or are you just so oblivious that you ignored the fact that he almost ruined your entire life?”

“How dare you?” she hisses. “How dare you accuse me of that?” Enjolras thinks Éponine might hit him, but then she turns her back, and skates for the door. “This isn’t going to work,” she calls, not looking back.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Grantaire yells as Enjolras joins him and Courfeyrac at the edge of the ice.

“She got on my nerves,” Enjolras says, grinding his teeth.

“She’s Éponine Thenardier, she gets on everyone’s nerves! It’s what she does!”

“You’re getting on my nerves, too, frankly!”

“Stop that, Enjolras,” Courfeyrac says, putting a hand on his chest. “Everyone’s a little high strung right now, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make this work. We’ll call it a day, and get back at it tomorrow morning.”

Enjolras wants to knock the persistent optimism right out of Courfeyrac’s curly head.

“Vodka and cranberry,” Éponine tells the bartender, who’s kind enough not to comment on the fact that this is her third appearance this week. “Whatever’s cheapest.”

“Actually, make that two, with Grey Goose,” says a voice behind her. “Drinks are on me.”

“In that case, make it a double,” Éponine says, and Enjolras slides into the seat next to her. “What do you want?”

“To apologize,” Enjolras says. “I shouldn’t have accused you of being in on Montparnasse’s drug ring. I watched the news report a hundred times, I saw the look on your face when they searched his bag, and when they arrested him. Nobody’s that good of an actor. You had no idea, did you?”

Éponine shakes her head, then buries it in her hands. When she resurfaces Enjolras isn’t watching her, and whether it’s out of respect or out of shame, she doesn’t care, because it makes him like her a little more. The bartender returns with their drinks, and they clink glasses before taking a sip.

“That’s what makes it hurt so bad, you know?” she finally whispers. “I loved him. I’ve known Montparnasse longer than anyone my entire life, and I thought I knew him inside out. We were in love. We were partners. I could tell from just the slightest movement which way I was supposed to go. We were totally in sync, and then one day the police bust open the door to the rink, and cuff him before he can even take his skates off. He’d been lying to me for years, and I had no idea. My whole team had been lying to me for years, and I had no idea. The press, my fans, everyone’s so determined to call me Nancy Kerrigan, and him Tonya Harding, because I just got caught up in this mess. He’s the one who fucked up. But maybe if I had known better, this wouldn’t have blown up in our faces. Maybe I’m the one who ruined this for us.”

Enjolras shakes his head, and pats her back. “It’s his fault,” he says. “And things are over for you and Montparnasse. That’s the truth, and I’ve never been one to sugarcoat things. But you’re too good to let your career end. We can be really good together.”

Éponine scoffs. “If today was any indication, we’re a long way from ‘really good.’”

“Today doesn’t mean shit,” Enjolras says. “That’s not a true testament to our abilities, because I fucked the lift up on purpose.”

Éponine almost chokes on her drink. “Excuse me?”

Enjolras takes a deep breath, and when he releases it he looks at her. “I fucked up the lift on purpose,” he says again.

“Why would you do that? I thought you wanted this to work! You’re the one that said you wanted to keep skating!”

“Because I was scared,” he says. “Cosette didn’t fall—she’s too good for that. I dropped her. We thought it was just a fracture, and that she’d recover and we’d be back on the ice by next season. But when the x-rays came back they showed her hip was shattered, and I blame myself entirely. I fucked up the lifts today because I didn’t trust myself. I’m scared, because I made a mistake once and I could make it again. But I’m telling you this now because I want to skate with you, and if we’re going to have the kind of trust it takes to be the best, then it has to start with complete honesty. You opened up to me, so I’m opening up to you.”

Éponine is speechless, her drink hovering halfway between the bar and her mouth. After a moment’s thought she sets it down, closes her mouth, and shakes her head.

When she speaks, it’s quiet. “Thank you.”

Enjolras nods, and they finish their drinks in silence.

“Tomorrow morning, at eight, we’re going to be at the gym,” Éponine says. “We’re going to work our asses off for the next four months, because we’re competing at Nationals as a team, and we’re going to win.”

Enjolras smiles, and claps one hand on her shoulder. “Another round, please!”

#les mis #les mis fic #it's going to be e/r someday #and ep/ferre prolly #who knows #i know nothing about ice skating #or france #idk if this even takes place in france #i'm a mess #love and validate me

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thefrostfalgar · 8 years

Text

Day 6: Sidekick

Due to a horrible thing called “work”, I forgot to post this part for day 6 in Eustass Kid Week.

Takes place in Young Justice AU, because I want to depict Kid in his younger days. so enjoy my lateness~~

Planet Rimbor was not the most pleasant planet to live in, not even to visit or to transit. If you think earth is shit, well, you’ll hate Rimbor deep to your core. It’s not only smaller and denser, but it’s also dirtier─both figuratively and literally. Your eyes will be filled with intergalactic trashes once you stepped out of your space ship, your smelling sense will be stuffed with the smell of piss from thousands of creatures who came here to sell or buy illegal, smuggled, and stolen stuffs across the galaxy. And to top of it all, you will also see the face of disgusting criminals / smugglers whom mostly are as filthy as their reputation.

But not today. Rimbor was way cleaner today, and the ugly smugglers spaceship was nowhere to be seen too. Instead, the port was filled with combat, if not a military spaceship with impressive weaponry─the ones designed to strike fear to their prey / enemy in the first glance.

Kid grinned in excitement. He always liked Intergalactic Conference. Not because it allowed him to see such impressive machines up close, but he also got to prank the heroes / Intergalactic Police who came as well. Chasing and fighting bad guys are one thing, but poking fun those so called heroes were always way, way thrilling than anything else. And more importantly, those self-righteous retards were easier to provoke.

In fact, he had pranked two heroes who came from other galaxy, which Kid knew took two trips into the space wrap to get here. He invoked their already nauseous state, causing them to puke all over their pants. It was so hilarious, Kid couldn’t help but laughing hysterically in the corner where he hide. He’s not a coward, but he rather not get caught or chased away while there are so many more heroes he could pull a prank to.

He grinned in pure joy when his eyes caught glimpse of a man in white shirt with red spots all over, beige trousers, and a black, heavy fur coat hanging on his shoulders. That man is so tall, so white, and so gracious while he walked out of his energy-manifested spaceship. No doubt a spaceship made of his power ring. The man wore a purple pair of glasses, and his right hand wields white power staff, shining in the glory of the stars.

“Oh, finally. The hippie showed up,” Kid chuckled evilly to himself. He’s familiar with this one. That guy was from earth too, and only joined the Indigo Tribe a few years back. He was basically a home hero before he got called to join the Intergalactic mission with the Good Lantern Corps. Kid can’t remember which color is the good ones and which color is the bad, but he knew exactly that a space hippie whom obtained their power from compassion is absolutely the good guy. “Heh, let’s see how much compassion he will show now,” he giggled as he raise his arm, focusing his magnetic power to move a piece of metal junk towards the guy’s way.

As he predicted, the guy stumbled and fell face first. But before his face actually hit the ground, another guy jumped out of the glowing white spaceship, pulling the guy’s shirt just in time to stop him from actually falling. Even though he was a lot smaller, with one of his hand alone he seem to be able to hold that weight of the taller man. With his other hand, the little tanned boy flipped Kid off, directly to the corner where he sat and enjoyed the view.

Kid sniffed, not keen on someone interrupting his prank from succeeding, but is amused either way.

The Indigo Guy finally stood and laughed, patting the raven haired boy’s head and muttering something that could be caught as “thank you” from afar. Even though Kid had stayed in Rimbor for a year, he would still be able to read his mother language from any mouth anytime.

Knowing that he would be pulled by the energy power anyway, Kid leaped closer to his victim. “Yoo, interstellar hippes,” he greeted with full Cheshire grin. “Sorry about that. My hand slipped.”

The Indigo guy (Rocinante, as he remembered), of course forgive him instantly. Not even minding Kid’s cheeky expression. He muttered about ‘thanking Law here who saved me from major nosebleeding’. Then laughing nonchalantly as if he didn’t know that Kid was the one who almost caused him that major nosebleeding. Or, maybe he just didn’t realize it. Kid have always heard that even though Rocinante is a great law enforcer, he is too clumsy and perhaps if Kid didn’t put the metal junk on his way, he would fall anyway.

But well, compassionate, forgiving guy was never attractive to Kid. So instead, he shifted his focus to the sour-looking boy behind Rocinante. His steel grey eyes bore a hole in Kid’s skull, to the point that Kid was sure that he would have died if this tan-skinned boy is a Kryptonian.

But he’s not, so Kid just pulled his smug face. “Trafalgar. I see you still enjoying life as a sidekick,” Kid sneered. He pulled the metal piece under Rocinante back to his hand, reminding the little shit that he was the one who did it. Not that he hadn’t noticed.

“Eustass Kid,” he replied in a calm manner, but his voice is laced with poison. “I can see why your parents named you Kid. They knew from the very beginning that you can’t grow up, didn’t they?”

“Been practicing insults for a year, I see,” Kid said, not losing an inch of his vicious smirk. “But well, what can we say. Being a sidekick must’ve given you a lot of free time. Especially that you still haven’t got your ring, and your power staff yet.”

Law glared blade to Kid before turning away to his mentor, Rocinante. “Let’s fly, Cora,” he said flatly. “Not in the mood for Kid’s play.”

“Oh, hang on a little bit, Trafalgar. I want to see how much more insult you have prepared for the last year. Unless you’re running out of them already?” he shouted. Trafalgar only grinned, raising his middle finger while Rocinante flew them both with the energy emitted from his power ring. Kid laughed hard, making sure that the now distanced Trafalgar heard him.

The rest of the day wasn’t so fun for Kid. There were no one else to play with. Sure, he managed to play hide and seek with some funny looking, overly strict police who were so determined to caught him after he pulled a prank on them. But he managed to get away, almost too easily, even. And after some time, even Kid found that game boring. He almost wanted to look for Trafalgar and Rocinante just to make fun of them. However, half way on his quest, Kid bumped into Shanks, who all of a sudden captured him and threw him into a room made of stone before he could even fight back. There was no metal for him to use as weapon, so he just vainly pounding the stone wall, kicking it, and even cursing that shitty old man with rich vocabulary that would make Rimbor’s criminals gape in shock. He tired himself out yelling and cursing, then spending the rest of the time sleeping. He only woke up to a familiar chirping bird voice, and an oxygen so rich, Kid could instantly tell where is he.

“Shanks, you shit!” he yelled again the moment Shanks showed up to his room / prison. “Is this earth?”

“You got that right,” Shanks replied. “Welcome home, Kiddo.”

Kid almost screamed in frustration. “The hell d’ya want?!”

“You. Here,” he said. “Listen, brat. Based on the Intergalactic Conference Pact that were signed by whole members and attendants, we came to an agreement that no heroes or law enforcers allowed to bring their sidekicks to intergalactic missions, send them to an intergalactic mission, or stationed them on certain planet or post. Heroes under 18 years old must be trained and supervised on their home planet, or if it is unknown, on their mentor’s home planet until they are qualified to be assigned…”

“WHAT!” Kid shouted. “THE HELL! I DID ALRIGHT ON RIMBOR BY MYSELF!”

“Don’t yell at me, Kiddo. It’s your own fault too. You made quite a name for yourself there, the board can’t help but worried about you and the other young heroes who did the same. Therefore they made this rule.”

“I’M NOT THAT YOUNG! And by the way, I’m not entirely a hero. You see, I’m stealing stuff here and there. So get me back there!”

“See? That, that’s your problem. Young men like you is so prone to turn into villainy, so Rocinante came up with that pact. We kind of agreed with him.” Shanks said again. “And yes, you’re that young. 14 is a smaller number than 18, you know.”

Of course. “HIPPIES!” Kid shouted again. “I’M NOT DOING WHAT THEY SAY! I’M NOT EVEN YOUR SIDEKICK ANYMORE!”

“First of all, yes, you are still my protégé, you loud metallic dingbat. And second, even if you are NOT doing this, I AM doing this. I don’t want to break intergalactic rule. And so are you. You will be stationed here. Getting your home missions and get your training. Understood?”

Kid flipped him off, before Shanks laughed hard.

“Well, understand or not, you have no choice, Kiddo. You can’t really go back to Rimbor with your powers alone. Besides, I already signed you to a hero training program with many others young heroes. Luffy will be there too.”

Kid rolled his eyes. Shanks said “Luffy will be there too” as if that would make the situation any better. If anything, that’s even worse. He surely don’t want to spend the next five years with that little elastic guy, or his crazy brothers nagging around him. Not to mention that he had to endure the stupidity of the others, because judging from Shanks’ bright face, Kid was sure that Mugiwarasshole wouldn’t be the only one who will….

Shit.

“Shanks, who else will be in this training program?”

By the time Kid arrived at the base of operation of the Supernovas Training Program, he was greeted by the smug face of no other than Trafalgar Law. He might look a bit indifferent, but the glint of mockery in his eyes gave away the emotion that bastard is trying to hide. Perfect. Just perfect.

“Yo, Kiddo,” he grinned. “Enjoying sidekick life, I see.”

“For someone whose name is so mouthful, you’re so poor in insults, Trafalgar,” Kid sneered, refusing to be beaten. “And yet you have one year advantage over me. You better be prepared. If that’s your pace, you’re gonna cry over my improvised materials in no time.”

Law sneered, definitely accepting Kid’s challenge. “Who said that was all my insults, Bakastass?”

Kid only grinned, his eyes gleam with excitement. Oh, these whole training thing will be a whole lot more fun than he though.

#eustass kid week #eustasskidweek #eustass kid #eustass captain kid #young justice AU #Kid would make a great Lobo #and Law would make a great Indigo Tribe

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