#I had to split this chapter in two 🙃

[gogandmagog]

C’mon, I know you have a niche LMM post in your drafts to post, the tags are so empty 🤣

Lmaooo, I wish I had something good for this.

I don't know if it's really niche in a satisfying way, but it is certainly niche in a would-anyone-else-bother-themselves-thinking-about-this sort of way? 🥸 Here’s my most recent draft (that isn’t just a note to myself):

All just because a couple of weeks ago, I was reading this book of letters/correspondence between two Cambridge Apostles from around 1910 to 1915. Of course, the Apostles weren’t exactly a frat, so much as a secretive intellectual society, but as with most things, even the tiniest incidentals mentioned in (nearly any) text (or letters, in this case) will immediately return me to splitting Montgomery hairs, so basically I was (am, really) just over here fixating on the possible origins of the (quite fictional lol) Lamba Theta of Redmond.

To begin with, I’m 99% certain that it ought to actually be Lambda Theta* (lambda [λ] is the eleventh letter in the Greek alphabet), since Lamba doesn’t appear anywhere in the Greek dictionary, never mind the alphabet. That kind of small error was enough to launch me properly down a rabbit hole of Victorian (and then Edwardian) frats at Dalhousie University (Redmond’s basis), to see if there were any similarly named that might’ve presented itself as serving for Maud’s basis for the Lambs. As it turned out, there’s nothing. 🙃 The very first frat established at Dalhousie was Phi Kappa Pi, and that wasn’t until 1923... when LMM had attended some three decades earlier, back in 1895. Anne of the Island even predates frats meeting at DU, since it was first published in 1915.

For some scale, the first Canadian frat ever was est. in 1879 (Zeta Psi) at the University of Toronto, and then again in 1883, the same frat opened another chapter over at McGill.

Anyway, I guess was/is just interesting to me that when Maud was inventing up a whole fraternity for her alma mater’s fictional stand-in, she really wouldn’t have had any first-hand experience with one. 🤨 And yet… she understood enough of them to’ve had Gilbert rush/be initiated (with sun-bonnets and calico aprons), in order to become a fully pledged member. Google says that fraternities as we know them now didn’t become notable or popular in the States (which Canada was rather behind) until the mid-late 19th century. Sooo, I suppose Lamba Theta is attributable to just that (a thing of cute pop-culture), or else Zeta Psi at UT was infamous enough for word to get around, to even the more rural areas (there’s 1,801.7 km between UT and Dalhousie btw), about their proceedings.

*the first real Lambda Theta frat/sorority was founded in 1973, at Kean University, and it is a Latino/Latina fraternity; their colours are burgundy and grey - actually quite alike the colours of Redmond University

[nerdieforpedro]

Movie Night

Part Three of Two Hearts by the Ocean

Javier Gutierrez x Abigail (plus size OFC)

This part is for teens and up - rating will depend on individual parts. Overall will be 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2.3k

Summary: Watching movies with Javier calms Abigail and they’re both able to enjoy each other’s company. However, a shadow looms on the horizon.

Warnings: two cinnamon rolls, possible Nic Cage movie overload, one kiss, mentions of harm to women and threats

Notes: We’re at chapter three and we got one kiss! 😘 They’re adorable. We’re setting a few things up also just having fun. Don’t worry too much about the tags yet. 👀 There’s a reason I’ve kept the overall rating 18+ and keep doing it individually. Special thanks to @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for helping with translations. I feel like I always pick the wrong version of the word. 🙃 It’s one of many goals this year.

Dividers are by the ever talented @saradika-graphics

If you’d told Abigail that she was going to meet a handsome man and be watching movies with him, she would have called you insane or told you that she’s watching movies in bed and those are the only handsome men she was seeing as of late. She also would have laughed very hard to hear that the same man had a compound and a private beach with his own movie theater inside his home. She sat on the couch with Javier, wearing yellow fuzzy socks that a maid had brought her in addition to some hot chocolate to go with her cake. She thanked the woman who gave her a quizzical look, and held her hand out. Javi explained it was to put their phones in a basket on the bookshelf so the blue light from the phones wouldn’t disturb the picture from the big screen. Abigail still wondered about the look the maid gave her and put it quickly out of her mind as the movie started. While watching, she laughed and pointed out that she recognized some of the actors and actresses from other shows. She became quiet again, realizing that it's a movie, you're not supposed to talk during a movie.

Javier was delighted to finally have someone else to watch movies with. It’s been months since Gabriella left and she had been his only friend in the home. Not that he didn’t have occasional lady friends over, but they were more interested in party boy Javier and not cinephile Javier. He answered Abby’s questions and listened to her comments which despite the movie playing, he didn’t mind because she was engaged and though her movie knowledge paled in comparison to his, it was fun hearing what she had to say. Slowly over the course of the first movie, he’d been able to inch closer to her. Javi even took a piece of her chocolate cake and she offered him a second one to which they split two more pieces. At the end of the first move, his knee was touching hers as they sat together and discussed if either of them had ever had a marmalade sandwich.

“I think it is only for Paddington, no? I may have some marmalade on toast or a roll but not just in a sandwich.” Javier chuckled. Abby nodded as she set the plate on the table before them next to her mug which she had finished quite a while ago.

“Yeah. I’ve only had jam or jelly and maybe some preserves on baked goods. Never marmalade. I enjoyed the movie a lot more than I thought I would. I wasn’t quite sure what I was expecting though.” She smiled and Javi returned it. He suggested that they could go for a short walk to stretch their legs before watching the second movie.

“Well if you enjoyed this one my dear Abigail, you will love Paddington two. I guarantee it.” Javier opened a patio door off the hallway just outside of the theater and they walked out together after putting their shoes back on. There was a small path next to the house that ran along a hill above the beach. The view was breathtaking. The water reflected the crimson, mustard and orange with dashes of pinks that dotted the sky. The pair stood as they watched the sky and Abby reached for Javier’s hand while looking at him, almost believing that he wouldn’t take it. He did not, opting to put an arm around her shoulders as they continued to watch the sun dip behind the ocean. It was a moment that she was content remaining in for hours. Javier’s arm around her as they watched the sun dip beyond the horizon. Her arm found its way around his back and settled on his hip. She was still nervous about touching the man and him touching her, but he was rather disarming. Or would one say inviting? His entire presence seemed to draw her in and whisper that it’s fine to touch, hold, and hug. More than even that aspect, was the sense of tranquility she sensed from him.

Javier was glad to note that Abigail appeared to feel safe in being in his home. He was concerned when he picked her up, but thankfully it worked out. She’s the first person in a while that he’s had a connection with over his interests. He wondered how he could make the most of her time here, in addition to figuring out the budget and such for the estate, he wanted to keep her close. His cousin wanted him to spend money to help wash ‘donations’ they received for their services. Things that Javier had a vague idea of what his cousin did but didn’t want to know the details. It was better he didn’t know. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend the money he’s supposed to then taking Abby out to see the island, he would ask if she wanted to. He was tempted to kiss her cheek, but decided against it as they hadn’t seen the second movie and he didn’t want her to think that it was the reason why he invited her to his home. Though her complement of his body had made him feel proud and fueled some other thoughts that would be pushed aside for now.

The pair went back inside and settled back onto the couch, only this time, Abigail sat right next to Javi and took hold of his hand. She liked the feeling of her small hand in his, plus it was warm like the rest of him. After they confirmed that they were comfortable, the second Paddington movie began. There were laughs, a few tears, several gasps and by the end after becoming fully engrossed in the film, both Javier and Abigail stood and cheered for the little bear coming out of his coma to be reunited with his family and his Aunt Lucy. Their palms were pressed together, swaying back and forth as they looked at the screen, the credits starting to roll. Abby and Javi were laughing, first at the movie’s ending and then at each other. It was a tad absurd that two adults were cheering this hard to a kids move some would say, but that’s what made it so much fun. To engage the part you may still have of yourself not jaded by the life lived. As their movements slowed to a stop, Abby didn’t let go of Javi’s hands as he expected.

“I take it you liked the movie Abby?” Javier asked with his trademark wide smile. He was well aware of the answer, but he wasn’t sure what else to say. Abby giggled and looked down at her yellow socks then back up at Javier. The day started out a bit tenuous but the afternoon and evening had been perfect. She tried something that had Javi’s lips form a small ‘o’ and lifted his left hand, kissing the back of it. Certainly not the kiss Javi had in mind, and it seemed more intimate as the warmth from her lips lingered on his skin.

“I did. Very much so. Thank you so much Javi. This is the most fun I’ve had in quite a long time.” Her smile had him move forward and close the short gap between them. Javier made sure to be wary of her body language for it seemed like she’d opened up to him a bit more. He thought of kissing her lips again, but finally kissed her cheek, his mustache and stubble from his beard grazed her skin and she released a quiet sigh. “I...um…should we…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, Abigail wasn’t exactly sure what she might say next. She was certain she didn’t come to his home just for such advances. They weren’t unwelcome, actually, much too welcome. She reminded herself that she’s supposed to be having fun and she’s going to see him later. Nothing needs to happen right now. Is she even wearing the right underwear for that?

Javier swallowed the thought first, pushing it back down. “We can watch one of Mr. Cage’s movies. I have all of them. I happen to be a very big fan of his. “ Their eyes met again and he knew he should sit back down, if he continued to stand with her, he would pull her over to the couch and that’s not been discussed at all, at least aloud. Via eyes and body language, however, they were loud and clear. Abigail walked to the couch first while still holding Javier’s hand and he followed her, though she didn’t pull him down. He sat next to her and they began watching ‘National Treasure,’ the frantic fun energy was replaced by a simmering heat between them.

The night rolled on as the movies continued. After ‘National Treasure’ the pair watched ‘Con Air,’ ‘Ghost Rider,’ and ‘The Sorcerer's Apprentice.”Though, by the last movie, both were nodding off on the couch, Javi’s head was on Abby’s shoulder and they were still holding hands as their eyes became heavier. By the time either of them woke up, they’d been asleep for a few hours, both with sore necks from the sleeping positions. Javi woke first and was worried that she was gone, except he felt his hand first and then looked up seeing her neutral sleeping face. They were still holding hands even while they slept, the wide grin on his face expressed his feelings on the matter.

“Mi diosa linda. Soy tan afortunado de despertarme a tu lado (My beautiful goddess. I am lucky to wake up to you).” He’s careful to move as he sits up and does not disturb her yet. He’s going to need to wake her but not yet. Just a little longer. If the moment could last a bit more.

“Ah-choo!” Abigail’s body jerks with her sneeze and she jolts awake. Her eyes blink as she looks around the room, her eyes adjusting to the light. She looks at Javi who’s holding in a laugh at her expense. She uses her shoulder and give him a gentle nudge to which he releases a roar of a laugh, she does as well and wonders how long they were asleep. There weren’t any clocks in the movie theater. No extra lights to allow for the best picture on the screen. “I’m glad I made you laugh, Javi. What time is it though?”

“I am not sure. I will go check, stay here and warm up a bit.” He stood and put a throw blanket over her legs, she pulled it closer and spread it out. “Did you want some tea? Um…” Javi thought carefully about how to ask, and decided it would be best to just say it. “Abigail. You don’t have to leave, You can stay the night. It is much too dark to drive the golf cart. We would not be staying in the same room. I can have a room made ready for you to use. Not just for tonight.” Javier placed a hand on the back of the couch and sat back down briefly, making sure to keep eye contact as he spoke. He was sincere and maybe she didn’t need to know that he already had a room ready. He could have also left out the part about it being not only for one night but he’s already said it. Not that he would ask her to stay longer if she didn’t want to. He would make sure she made it back to her resort safely.

Abigail was elated to hear that he wanted her to stay. She didn’t want to go, who would? If she can stay in whatever fever dream this was a little longer, she would take the opportunity. She pecked his cheek and nodded. “I’m happy you want me to stay, Javi. I kinda didn’t want to go. Not yet anyway. I should come with you. That way if you want tea or something else, you won't have to make trips or try carrying it by yourself.” Javier shook his head and insisted that she remain here, Abby sighed and agreed but did ask for her phone so she could text her friends and let them know that she’s alright, she’s just out for the night. She will be back tomorrow afternoon.

Javier happily made his way to the kitchen and proceeded to make some tea, though he’d forgotten to ask what tea Abby might like. He went with peppermint for the both of them and two spoons of honey in hers. She appeared to be a fan of sweets. The maid who’d brought the socks and snack entered the kitchen and greeted Javi. She asked if his lady friend was still here and he replied that she was. The maid nodded and informed him that his cousin may be back tomorrow or the following day. It depends when he finishes whatever business they had to take care of in Greece, for her safety, it would be best if she left tomorrow.

“For the record señor Gutierrez, she appears like a kind woman. Your cousin and his associates seem to like to harm such women. You’ll also need to increase your spending again. He’s been keeping watch. I… Lo siento, señor (I am sorry sir).” This particular maid was older and had been with Javier and his cousin Lucas since they bought the compound about five years ago. She’d trained many of the other maids that had come and gone, as such, Lucas had given his goons instructions to not bother her, though they did know where her son and daughter were and their families so she kept Lucas abreast of Javier’s activities when he was away.

“Tia Lupe, gracias cómo siempre (Thank you, always).” Javier said softly before kissing her a peck on the cheek and adding a spoon of honey to his tea as well. He’d need something sweet for the update he’d been given.

Part two. Part Four

Peeps who will watch the sunset 🌅 and a movie marathon:

@innerpersonunknown @trulybetty @tinytinymenace @maggiemayhemnj @megamindsecretlair @grogusmum @secretelephanttattoo @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @morallyinept @lady-bess @readingiskeepingmegoing @gwendibleywrites @avastrasposts @bitchwitch1981 @missladym1981 @anoverwhelmingdin

[mushiemellows]

Fun fact about the pilot au:

First op fic I ever started (maybe got ~200 words in) was a castaways/lost style modern au where everyone’s a passenger (with the jobs off of oda’s sbs list) on a plane that went down on a desert island in the middle of the pacific on a flight from LA to Tokyo. I had the whole damn thing planned out too but I’ve cannibalized it to hell since it was my first fic idea.

Floating Through the Stratosphere would have been Chapter ~3 or 4. Attendant Robin was going to be an early cornerstone of trust in the community because she (along with Jinbei who was another flight attendant and Luffy who is a firefighter here) lead the immediate evacuation off the plane wreck. This dynamic would shift around chapter 3, with the reveal that Franky (the copilot) survives the accident. (Here, the pilot would have been Tom who dies in the crash). He’s in critical condition but they’re on a desert island there’s not much to be done. No one likes or trusts him because they’re under the impression he crashes the plane, so feel a little betrayed when Robin is on his side. It was going to cause an initial tear that was going to have a rolling effect, splitting the camp of survivors in two.

The Paris trip sequence was going to be a flashback in the middle of all of this, with the reveal that it had only been 2 or 3 days since.

So like, something was always going to happen 🙃

[willshipanything-blog]

Breaking the Rules- Chapter 9

New chapter has arrived! Little shorter (3.5k), but the upside of splitting up this one and next is that both are gonna have a little smut! Let's pretend that was intentional 🙃✨

As always, MINORS DNI and check tags on AO3.

Fic on AO3 here

Complete chapter index is here

(Also, I know this gif is Moon Knight. But Al is gonna be sat in a similar position 👀, and Y/N is gonna making some pretty mouthy accusations... 🤭

Chapter 9- Demons

You woke from a surprisingly dreamless sleep. Free from nightmares you were sure might haunt your repose, given last night’s conversation with Al; all the past miseries that had been dredged up, and the present ones you’d created with your indelicate, unintentionally spiteful words. But the night had ended on a sweet note, marked by liberal apologies and candid reassurances- from you and Al in equal measure. And his warm, enveloping hold had seen you off to a gentle sleep. He’d not woken either, so you assumed he wasn’t plagued with nightmares either, no worrying night terrors like you’d witnessed before.

This morning, the room was as peaceful as your slumber had been, a muted pink tincture reawakening the bedroom in a fresh, soft glow. You gently propped yourself on an elbow, looking at Al still asleep beside you in bed. His hand, splayed out a little from his body as if he’d been wordlessly reaching for you in sleep. The slow, steady rise and fall of his bare chest. A soft snore from slightly parted lips, more of a purr than his usual playful growl. 

Looking at Al reminded you of a conversation you’d had with Max, that very first day in the woods. How Max had looked just like his mom, whereas Al hadn’t been blessed with those same features. Al obviously detested looking in any way like his father and (despite your best efforts to dissuade such thinking), his self-loathing seemed omnipresent- how much of that, you wondered, was fueled by the reflection he saw in the mirror? Did he glimpse two monsters staring back at him, twin sets of those intense cerulean eyes, both tempting and treacherous? 

It wasn’t simply the abuse that made Al’s animosity so deep-rooted (a hatred geared towards both himself and his father). No, the situation was made much worse, deepened like an ocean trench, when the similarities extended far beyond just the visual, encompassing acts of physical violence too. Al’s sins had followed a parallel path to his father, two matching sets of footprints that had descended the basement stairs to inflict pain and incite fear. Two generations of evil. 

But did the phrase ‘like father, like son’ apply, when Al’s crimes so heavily outweighed his predecessor's? Of course, you wouldn’t forget the Grabber’s reign of terror, those young lives lost forever at his hand- but you couldn’t help but think of the causation of such evil. The things that had been wreaked on Al in his own childhood- that had to have some awful and profound effect on a person. The Grabber had grown and bloomed from his past, his father’s actions the root and stem of it all. Even if Al had embraced the violence and the bloodshed, he’d been unwittingly molded and twisted into it. You’d helped to untwist him, shaping him back into something good, but the marks of the monster would always be visible, like a hairline crack in a piece of porcelain. 

You scanned Al’s face as he slept, each feature you knew so intimately. Each wrinkled crevice at his temples; the exact curve of his jaw, lined with a morning stubble, the straight slope of his nose above that wide, perfect mouth hiding a wide, imperfect smile. You looked wistfully at the face in front of you, weighted by years of hurt, burdened by torments that had been inflicted on him, and those in turn that he’d inflicted on others- in infinitely greater measure. A private thought: which hurt more? As you mapped those lines and features that so closely resembled the evil that came before Al, you realized something. To you, the external similarities were immaterial. You hadn’t known Al’s father. To you, Al wasn’t similar- Al was his own man, and trying to be a better one every day. 

“Whatcha thinking about, dove?” Al had woke as you were brushing his soft hair, fingers curled between the ashy tips at his shoulders. You continued stroking his locks as you met his beguiling blue eyes. His question was light, playful- but you answered with an earnest intensity that he was sure to see in the blazing glint of your eyes, hear in the clarity of your voice.

“I’m thinking that you’re a good person, Al. I want- I need you to know that.” Even as you said the words, you wondered silently who they were for; for Al, to divert him from that perilous path of self-loathing, or to remind yourself of the good he was capable of, despite the awful things he’d done. Hopefully your pointed words could hit both targets. 

Al let loose a wearied sigh, suggesting you’d missed that first target, that Al was still adamant he was the sole cause of all the hurt in this house, despite the things the house had born witness to decades prior to the Grabber’s emergence. 

“Little dove- you can’t blame anybody but me f-” He was hushed by the soft graze of your fingertips on his lips. This wasn’t a time for arguments, not after so much of it the previous night, so your hand moved to his cheek, your nails scratching gentle, assuaging strokes along his jawline as you spoke.

“I know Al. I understand the things you’ve done. But I know the things that have been done to you, too,” you insisted, eyes never straying from his despite the plaintive plea in those crushing blue eyes. “But those things can shape us, can’t they?”  

“What, ‘cause he is so like me, he’s shaped me, you mean?” Al grimaced as he spat out the acknowledgment of his father. You could only offer a mute expression in response, raised eyebrows and lips pursed as if to retort: ‘didn’t he?’. Not that you needed to say that out loud. It was an understanding, a silent comprehension between the two of you- of course his father had shaped Al’s existence. The parallels between them were irrefutable. For Al to outright deny it would be laughable if it weren't such a devastating topic. 

Of course, shifting blame could never negate Al’s crimes. But the origin of the Grabber, that second monster who had stalked and terrorized this house, was not Al’s handiwork alone. It had been created in Al’s mind, but helped along by the emotions, the torment and the rage that had been unable to die out with his father. Forged from every whip of the belt. Each punch, slap and cruel taunt. Each ceaseless memory carving a new contour that would sculpt that deviled mask. 

“Our entire existence shapes us,” you began, delicately constructing your answer. You’d thrown enough virulent barbs at Al last night. Such unkind words, even if Al agreed they were true. But the pain they had caused hadn’t lessened in your mind, and you assumed they hadn’t for Al, either. Soothing, kind words were needed this morning. “The bad, yes- but the good too. Look at Max- he’s made us both better, happier. You know I make you better. And you’ve changed me too- I really am happy here, Al.”

Still, the understanding that passed between your silent stares didn’t ease the anguish in Al’s expression, and it hung between you like a dead, rotten thing. Focusing on the past would only serve to drag him closer to that fatal precipice of self-reproach. You changed tact. Not the badness of the past, but the goodness of the present. Throwing open the curtains of the here and now to banish those dead, shadowy specters. 

“But I don’t make you better,” Al huffed. “Even if you’re happy, dove- dontcha think you’re a worse person for staying?” 

In the moment or two you took to process what had been said, Al had sat up and swung his legs out of bed, sitting with his back to you. Perhaps ashamed by the words he’d spoken, although those words weren’t exactly a lie. You weren’t upset by the blunt question he’d posed (and if you had been, it would only even out the caustic accusations you’d thrown his way last night). You did feel awful, truly, for the things that had happened, each life that had been extinguished or irreparably damaged by the evil that had festered in this house. But you’d never been remorseful enough to leave, nor had you gone to the police when given the opportunity. 

You’d been a good girl your entire life. But for Al, you would willingly slip into an antithetical role. Maybe Naughty Girl wasn’t just an act for you to occupy during the game. You smiled inwardly at this thought, actually smiled at the dark, wretched part of you that had been surrected in these past months. Smiled, despite the sliver of morality you’d had to shed in order to stay with Al in this blissful sin. The scales swapping out the good for the bad in equal measure until balance was restored, your soul just a little blacker than before. It was a zero sum game- but you were always happy to play those. 

Your smile coiled into something new at that kind of thought, and you wondered whether your eyes took on a darker hue as you reached for Al, snaking your arms around him like two coils of rope, pressing your front against his broad back. A whisper against the skin on his neck, teeth close enough to skim the arterial vessels thrumming beneath the surface, ever quickening as Al’s breaths became more erratic.

“Actually Al, I think it was a good trade,” you murmured on a low, almost sultry breath. “I don’t mind being a little worse, if it makes you a little better.” Soft and reassuring, but completely lascivious and morally wrong. Both parts of you that could co-exist together, an uneasy treaty of good and bad signed across your heart.

You splayed a hand wide on his bare chest, your palm warming the spot above his heart. The tangle of scars on his skin, each ridge of sinewy muscle (marred and fractured but still whole) was encompassed by your touch. An enduring marker on his skin that his journey to betterment was no grandiose, empty gesture. He’d put himself on the chopping block, quite literally, in order to kill the Grabber, seek atonement at your hands. It was proof that he wanted to be better, and it was enough for you, whatever the cost to your own soul’s innocence. 

Al seemed to understand this meaning implicitly, that wordless bond between the two of you like an invisible telephone wire with a direct line to each other’s innermost thoughts. His hand enveloped yours, holding it above his heart for a moment before raising it to his mouth, where he brushed your knuckles with a delicate, warm kiss. His head swiveled to the side, his eyes shining with something other than sorrow now- it was adoration, and need. You were perfect in his eyes, even if you were no angel anymore. 

Your voice took on a playful lilt, the intonation rising and falling as you spoke. Not unlike Al’s performances he’d acted out a thousand times. 

“Al?”

“Yeah, dove?” he rasped.

“I’m thinking about something else entirely now.” Your hands, which had both found their way back to his chest, began their descent. 

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Al cooed knowingly, but let out a choked breath as your fingers glided over the soft plane of his stomach, his gut curling inward from the sensation, the anticipation. You released a dark chuckle into Al’s neck at the movement, to which he countered with a clawing grip to one of your thighs by his side, his other hands grasping a thick tendril of your hair and twirling it seductively around his fingers. Your hands reached his hard cock, palming it slowly through his pajama trousers, letting free a low rumble of rolling thunder from Al’s throat.

“Don’t be such a tease, little demon.” 

That was more like it. No good girl. No angel. Just the devil and his demon. You obeyed, peeling back the too-many layers between your hands and his hot skin. It was already hard, tip already wet with precum as you used it to begin long, languid strokes along his length. Four crescent red-moon indents were sure to mark your thigh, the way Al’s grasp tightened on your skin as you continued rubbing his cock with fervor, your own aroused breath fanning the shell of his ear as you picked up pace.

“Ahh- that’s it little thing- t-there’s my good girl.” Al stammered between breaths. But he was wrong- no good girls this morning. 

“Hmm, maybe I should call you ‘little thing’ Al.” 

He bristled beneath you, and you retreated your hand as the air in the room stilled. You’d goaded him with that indignity, knowing he’d react that way, wanting him to. Needing a taste of the smoldering darkness you knew he’d readily provide. Malevolent intent emanated from his body, and he shot you a dark glance sidewards as he clicked his tongue in your direction. A soft, sinister chuckle before he spoke, low and guttural.

“Oh, we both know that’s a lie.” In the flicker of an eye, he’d gripped your arm and used his bestial strength to haul you from the bed. You let loose a shriek as you tumbled onto the shag rug, kneecaps colliding heavily with the floor. Without a chance to straighten yourself, you were brought before him, dragged roughly between his thick thighs, his stiff cock waiting. He curled a hand around the nape of your neck, the other tracing a slow, undulating line along the ridges of your neck, his finger buckling your knees more than any switchblade ever could as he brushed the hollow of your throat. He leaned forward to speak. Close enough for you to see the storm brewing in the ocean of his eyes. 

“Now, I’m sure you’re gonna eat those fucking words, huh dove?” 

He removed his hand from the front of your neck (the one behind still holding firm) while he allowed you to choose your next move in this game. You bit your bottom lip, considering whether to push him further or submit completely. You surrendered, giving an obedient nod and parting your lips slightly at his command. Approval given, he pushed his length past your lips without hesitation, without time for you to even take a full breath. No retreat either; he’d fisted your hair at the back, giving himself complete control of your movements. 

And with the loss of control, you gave yourself over unconditionally. Ready to drown in the void, a vacuum where only the pair of you existed. It was instinctual; mouth wide, tongue flat to lick its way along Al’s shaft as he rutted into your mouth with a merciless pace. Loosening your jaw to accommodate him, hands braced on his study thighs to hold steady against the driving thrusts. The obscene sounds of his cock invading your mouth, in harmony with your breathless whimpers and occasional gagging as it hit the very back of your throat.

Each dirty word he spoke as you sucked, each time he roared your name in carnal bliss, gave a fresh burst of arousal between your own legs, only making you more eager to serve. Al hadn’t spoken like this, so dominating and forceful, in weeks. But even that dark, gravelly tone, one that sounded so laced with deadly intent, thrilled you right to your core. Just as effective as his body in drawing you further into the delirium of the act. The cumulation of it all, the sounds of Al’s euphoric moans, the sensations shooting through your body like bolts of white-hot lightning, was all-consuming. Your pleasure wasn’t the objective, but god, was it close.

Absolutely at his mercy, but happy to be used- you were his to use, after all. Just as he was yours. You felt him near his peak, and decided a little control of your own was in order. Knowing he’d come undone at your piercing gaze, you peered up at him through heavy lashes with him still in your mouth. Right on cue, Al came undone as your eyes tore into his. Hot spurts of his seed hit the back of your throat in quick bursts, and you swallowed unquestioningly. He withdrew, and you sucked in a deep breath while half-discerning being picked up, Al placing you in his lap. 

Soft hands pawed at you, wiping the drool from your chin, the tear stains from your cheeks as gentle kisses trailed each angle of your jaw. Soft words, gentle praises at how good you were (at such odds with the profanities he’d spoken only moments ago), brought you back to the surface, back from the black hole you’d both allowed to envelop you. More cognizant now, you pressed a kiss to Al’s lips, the simple, demure gesture just as electrifying as any profane act either of you might perform in bed. 

“You know Al, I actually don’t feel much worse.” you cooed.

“Oh dove, I couldn’t ask for better.”

You both huffed a breath of amusement. As before, you looked intensely at Al with riveted eyes. Still the same as before: those deep azure eyes, that winsome smile, the single hint of a dimple, all familiar features you knew so well. Al- the man you loved. No-one else occupied the strong body that held you safely, no other demons invaded the mind that felt so connected with yours. Just Al, who was an infinitely better person than you might ever have hoped for all those months ago. While Al would never love the person he saw in the mirror, you still held out hope that one day he might see a fraction of himself the way you did. 

Al knew he hadn’t processed his feelings in any sort of healthy way his entire life. A childhood of hiding them, being himself only in the most covert of circumstances. Then years of holding back everything, unable to handle the amalgamation of loss and longing and loneliness, so cutting himself off completely. And then he’d finally snapped, letting loose the Grabber who knew only rage and violence and fear, enacting them precisely as he took out his anger on the world. 

His dove had come along, and suddenly Al was feeling things like never before. An unfathomable range of emotions that she had stirred within him. Confusion had laced his veins when he’d begun to feel compassion, then regret, then- against every odd- love. He’d been sapped of the ice-cold demeanor that had served him well as the Grabber, and it had been replaced with a warmth he hardly knew himself capable of. A warmth he’d not shared for more than two decades. 

And now here he was, sharing his innermost feelings, the past he had avoided facing at all costs. It had helped. It had actually helped. He’d torn himself apart opening up, but things hadn’t crumbled to dust around him. She had accepted the past, understood it, but not used it as an excuse- and he revered her for that. 

He had worried she’d see him in so many different variations, each more abhorrent than the last. Ashamed to look at that weak little boy who couldn’t protect his family until it was too late, the damage too deeply imbued inside him like an infected, gangrenous wound. Disgusted that he was a carbon copy of his father, who had suffered pain and in turn inflicted it because he couldn’t claw his way out of that cycle. Terrified of that second self that lurked beneath his skin, the Grabber threatening to cut his way to the surface at any given moment. 

But no. She saw him as Al. She loved Al, loved him. Despite those other faces that morphed into a grotesque mosaic when he looked at his reflection on his darker days. Those monstrous echoes of his past that she cut through effortlessly, teaching him to try and do the same, to see himself in a better light. No saint, not really even a person worthy of true redemption- but a better person at least. That could count for something, right?

He was being open and honest with her now, and it felt so freeing. There was so little she didn’t know about him now. Except, perhaps, those secrets. Those secrets held deep in his heart, deep in the basement of his soul. Secrets that, Al feared, would eradicate any trace of love within his little dove’s heart forever.

[boinin]

Blue Lock Manga

We've been blessed by Chp 218 🙌 It's had a mixed response but I enjoyed it a lot.

Thoughts under the cut.

Previous chapter analyses

The art continues to blow me away. I didn't appreciate it as much when I was bingeing through the chapters, or when I watched the anime 🙃 but gosh it's so pretty. These are my personal favourite panels this week. The one with Barou and Isagi is so evocative. A clear visual explanation of the difference between Metavision and Predator Eye.

Isagi is data scientist AU anybody?

He's SUCH a dork, and I mean that in the kindest sense. Bro's reeling off completely fabricated terms to Niko like he's teaching a class 🥹 I love that he's so keen to pass on what he's learned. He's shown himself to be a voracious learner, going to everyone from Barou to Rin to Kunigami for tips. I want to see someone ask him for instruction!

Also - how cute are Aiku and Niko in this chp?! They're like brothers. I have a draft outline in my writing vault for an Ubers found family fluff fic featuring these two, and this isn't helping me ignore it.

Not everyone has metavision, what a shocking reveal /s It felt heavy handed in delivery, but it shows who Isagi's rivals are in terms of playmaking and predictions. No, Raichi isn't coming for Himsagi's bag yet.

Another amazing set of panels, love it any time they go nuts with the puzzle pieces. Isagi lists only four... but I think Kaneshiro's setting up Aiku to be the surprise fifth MV user. He might not consciously activate the ability as Isagi does, but he's definitely capable.

I had sight of these panels from the leaks when I was writing up the chp 217 post, so I won't rehash the BM v Ubers point. But I like how this visualises their differences. The art is grotesque but really beautiful at the same time. Look at Isagi naming himself at the top alongside Kaiser! That's ego growth for you.

On that note: who's the Game Changer this chapter's talking about? Isagi seems to think it's going to be one of him or Kaiser, or out of Ubers, Lorenzo, Barou, Aiku or Niko. Naturally, it's not likely to be any of these, cos ✨suspense✨

The chapter itself ends with a suggestion that it'll be BM that supplies it...

EMOGAMI PLEASE, DO SOMETHING WITH THAT EDGE OF YOURS, WHAT'S THE POINT OTHERWISE 😭

I'm biased towards my boy Rensuke, but I'll try to be objective here. On the subreddit, people are split 50:50 between being excited that he's getting a moment, or rolling their eyes at that edgy ball steal. I couldn't care less about whether this is an accurate depiction of soccer playing or not (it's a shounen battle manga as far as I'm concerned). But I do think Kunigami's solo run will get shut down next chapter. He hasn't had a lot to do in this match, but I think Kaneshiro will hold back on Kunigami's development for the PXG showdown.

In the last panel, you can see Kunigami's barrelling towards the goal. There's two defenders up ahead. One is Niko, who's apparently well-suited to reacting to sudden threats (i.e. him tackling Isagi). The other is not so obvious... but odds are, it's Aiku. Who's also not done a lot so far and who doesn't have a grudge against Shidou Ryuusei to milk later

My prediction? Kunigami will outmuscle Niko, but get walled by a levelled-up Aiku, leaving a free ball for Kaiser or Isagi to claim.

As for who'll be the true game changer? Said it already, but if Hiori's not getting subbed on for our newly christened royal trash!Ness in the next five chapters, I'll eat my hat. 🐑

No more commentary from me. Just signing off with a glorious narcissistic bastard entering flow 💅

[theatrekidstatus]

Chapter 8:

"I'm so happy y'all are dating,because y'all wouldn't shut up about each other" daveed announced "for real all y/n would talk about was anthony and I couldn't even talk to him" Renée added "leave them alone" Leslie said putting his arms around us (a/n not even gonna hold y'all I forgot about Leslie until I read a story with him in last night😭😭😭) "you two are going to be the cutest couple ever" Lin said grinning that big grin "thanks Lin" "anytime" let's get to rehearsals of rehearsal "ugh" "I know I know but we have too,y/n you'll be the audience" "cool ooo can-" "no you can't yell boo if someone messes up" "awww" "HAHA" jazzy cackled "🖕🏾" "ok PLACES" Lin yelled "Que groffsauce" *insert preshow speech* "Leslie" "how dose a BASTERD,orphan,son of a whore and a Scotsmen dropped in the middle spot in the crabien by providence and squalor grow up to be a human and scholar" "y/n's boyfriend" "the ten dollar founding father without a farther got a lot farther by being a lot smarter by 14 they placed him in charge a trading charter" "daveed" "and everyday while slaves were being slaughtered and carted away- something's wrong with my mic" "if this is a joke it's not a funny one David" "it's-" then he started mouthing something "damn...ok if anyone did something to daveed's mic fess up now I won't even make you confess why you did just confess" "no one ok good I'll call tech and have this checked out daveed just articulate" "COOL" after his oak part "what's your name man" "Alexander Hamilton my name is Alexander Hamilton and there's 1000,000 I haven't but just you wait just you wait" "when he was ten his father split full of it debt ridden two year Alex and his mother bedridden and" "Alex got better and his mother went quick"moved with the cousin committed sucide left him with ruined pride something new inside" "Hi excuse me so sorry but the mic you wanted us to check out/fix was purposely damaged It seemed to be stepped on.punched,kicked,chewed? And other things that make us not want to even look let alone touch and it might be unfixable "ok CAST CREW AND OTHER meeting now everyone audience "ooo a mystery" I whispered to ant he looked a little tense "you good" "well I'm a little nervous how the show finna Turn out we've had only a few days of practice" "I'm sorry ant" "huh why *gasp* DID YOU DESTROY HIS MIC" "what no I'm sorry that i relapsed and took 2 days off of rehearsals and I'm sorry something happened to his mic and take more time" "hey I'm It's NOT your fault you relapsed it's those dumb idiots online and I know you didn't cause the mic thingy it's not your flaut ok" he said he's BEAUTIFUL green eyes "OK QUITE DONE EVERYONE,LISTEN I KNOW THIS ISNT A BIG BIG ISSUE BUT THE STUFF SOMEONE DID TO THAT MIC I SENT DAVEED TO THE DOCTOR AND THEN HOME" (all caps cause ArTiCuLaTiOn) Lin said with anger and concern "DAMN" we yelled "I know now I know said who ever messed up the mic could fess up and we'd move but if they wanna confess what you did,why'd you dove and why hide it literally that's it" Lin tells us "and-"

He's cut off by a text "OH HELL NO YOU PHYCHO PUT HONEY ON HIS MIC YOU GUYS KNOW HE IS ALLERGIC" "OH HELL NAH" I yelled Everyone looked at me "My bad" "Listen we will continue this rehearsal but if no one fesses up then YA OUTTA HERE" Lin yells everyone look at each other "if you did it you'd tell me right" he asked I wasn't to mad because he was worried for his best friend "I didn't but if I did I'd tell you" "ok good" I texted the "renèe, Pippa, jazzy AND Y/N" GC if y'all did I won't snitch but did y'all

Jazzy poo bear😭🙄🔛🔝‼️🗞️🧍🏼‍♀️🫶🏾🤭🎶🗣️🪄✅😑👍🏾🩷😂👦🏿🖕🏾😘❕🔥😔👦🏾💞👹❗️🔊🎩👦🏽: do what I was sleeping the whole meeting

Pippy poo😀🥹☺️😃😅😊😄😂😇😁🤣🙂😆🥲🙃: omfg jazzy so you know how so messed daveed mic

Jazzy poo bear😭🙄🔛🔝‼️🗞️🧍🏼‍♀️🫶🏾🤭🎶🗣️🪄✅😑👍🏾🩷😂👦🏿🖕🏾😘❕🔥😔👦🏾💞👹❗️🔊🎩👦🏽:yeah

Pippy poo😀🥹☺️😃😅😊😄😂😇😁🤣🙂😆🥲🙃: he was trying to see if someone would fess up because there'd just have to explain why they did it but if they don't there outta here and no y/n I didn't do it

Jazzy poo bear😭🙄🔛🔝‼️🗞️🧍🏼‍♀️🫶🏾🤭🎶🗣️🪄✅😑👍🏾🩷😂👦🏿🖕🏾😘❕🔥😔👦🏾💞👹❗️🔊🎩👦🏽:ohh i ain't do it now but you nèa nèa

Mommy nèa(not dirty🙄)😉😗😝🤓😌😙😜😎😍😚🤪🥸🥰😋🤨🤩😘😛🧐🥳:no i kinda like daveed

Ooooooooooo (they all texted)

Mommy nèa(not dirty🙄)😉😗😝🤓😌😙😜😎😍😚🤪🥸🥰😋🤨🤩😘😛🧐🥳:omg you guys SO immature

                        Okay so y'all are clear Ant and I didn't do it so yeah 

I was walking around I was singing Burn and and ant came from the shadows

"I'm your boyfriend how dare you not tell me you can sing"

"I'm sorry I love you don't hurt me," I say while slowly falling on the floor My last boyfriend would hit me when I didn't tell him stuff "Hey hey I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you come here I love you too and look at me I will NEVER hurt you," he said hugging me on the floor maybe not all men are bad "an-t," I say through tears " "yes babe" "your my boyfriend?" "Am I?" he asked nervously "Yes, yes you are" he smiled so hard "Let me wipe your tears please" "OK" his thumb slowly went down my face getting rid of my tears "I have to go on stage are you ok?" "I'm fine" "ok let's go" he reaches out a hand and I take it he takes me to my favorite seat in the audience and went in the wings I watched the rehearsal they did it with a recording of Daveed's voice they got far to they got to 'say no to this' WITHOUT ANY BREAKS tech member Katie messed up so they had to stop but Lin made sure she didn't feel guilty "damn I want some cookies" I mumbled "I know" I pull out my phone and text thayne

CoOkIe MoNsTeR😏😕😫😤😒🙁😩😠😞☹️🥺😡😔😣😢🤬😟😖😭🤯:is this y/n

                                                    Yes and I want cookies

CoOkIe MoNsTeR😏😕😫😤😒🙁😩😠😞☹️🥺😡😔😣😢🤬😟😖😭🤯:no

                         Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

CoOkIe MoNsTeR😏😕😫😤😒🙁😩😠😞☹️🥺😡😔😣😢🤬😟😖😭🤯: because I fucked them up last night

[12timetraveler]

🙃🙃

Chapter 5 and 6 of Something In The Orange were originally one chapter but I had to split it up into two because it was going to be so long and I think they're both still going to be some of the longest chapters I just have so many things I want to do in these chapters.

[rowanisawriter]

WIP…?

…said with the same energy as RIP 😭

thanks for the tag, @zenstrike!! i’m tagging @samseabxrn @nirikeehan @monowires but no pressure :)

here’s what i have brewing, if we want to call haunting my google docs brewing:

battle studies: dragon age, cullen/trevelyan, this is where most of my attention is and i’m almost done! I split it into three smaller pieces and have written 1 and 3. this is definitely the most ambitious fic i’ve written i think.

an unnamed treasure hunter au: also dragon age, cullen/trevelyan, wrote the first chapter to get it out of my system and refocus, then i decided i liked it and want to continue it because i love pain and hate myself 🙃

lore: more dragon age, cullen/trevelyan, i need to be restrained because i can’t stop writing them, but this one is about the inquisitor’s abilities taking a darker turn and the effect it has on their relationship.

fairy tale: more dragon age, amell/alistair, sad little thing about how nothing ever turns out like it does in the books you read when you were young.

your hands were made for holding: finally something other than dragon age, horizon forbidden west fashav/kotallo absolute angst factory.

after: deathloop, charlie/fia, i have had this in the wips since the game came out like two years ago, i want to finish it so bad but it won’t write… so it just gathers dust in the folder and i reread what i’ve got from time to time, suffering in silence.

[write-and-buried]

Sending love and strength and good vibes.

If you’re up for a distraction, could you talk a bit about what fics you’re working on at the moment or what ideas you’d like to work on? I love your writing and it would be lovely to see what we readers have to look forward to 😇

HELL YEAH PORN ROUND UP GOOD VIIIIIBES

Postcards;

I am working on the penultimate chapter and am determined to get it up next week. I've had to separate it, splitting the action into the final chapter, which means you're getting two scoops of smut and angst and not much else

I left you all on a hell of a cliffhanger and I'm sorry about it

Celestial Navagation

Let's talk trashman.

So this fic is shaping itself up to be a cotton candy cloud of fluff and softness.

I'm naming the chapters after the phases of the moon

Dieter calls the reader by his favourite old Hollywood movie stars (Bette, Tallulah, Joan)

There's a barista named Owen who I'm in love with.

mmf action

Switch Dieter

Also he has a circular bed and grows his own weed 🤷‍♀️

Piece;

As most of you saw from my unhinged meltdown - I watched Prospect this week 😳🙃

I have about 1500 words of ezra filth already in the chamber and below is a sample of all the other things my brain has spit at me to write in relation to him

Free use (24 hours where he can do whatever he wants, regardless of objection - note; this is dynamic play and safe words are in effect)

Blood play. Either period or injury

HES FUCKING YOU WITH HIS GUN.

[mintawasalreadytaken]

WIP Update: Chapter 3 of Truly Being Alive is now up!

WIP | E | Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter | Romance, Angst, Smut, Mental Health Issues, Sobriety, Disability, Chronic Illness, Gender Identity, Anxiety, Depression, Eating Disorders, BDSM

Snippet:

Sometimes, when Harry was on the upswing after a long spell of poor health, Draco let it be easy. Allowed Harry to catch his lip between his teeth and tug him horizontal.

That particular Saturday morning, Harry won their sleepy battle. Finished, panting, an arm flung over his eyes, Draco huffed a laugh.

"What?" Harry asked.

Draco's lips curved into a smile he might have thought private, only Harry drank its every hill and valley in.

"You've taught me what the word 'insatiable' feels like."

→ Read on AO3

Rambling after the cut...

This week's chapter is a meditation on Draco, and it was such a pleasure and a challenge to write considering the Harry POV leaves a fair few holes in his knowledge re: Draco. It was the first time I reconsidered my own stance on POV switching in this story. I truly had fun plotting out Draco's POV for the entire story, and then flipping it back to Harry; we can only know what he knows, and that causes...problems (cue dramatic music).

It was originally a nearly 20k mega-chapter, which has since been split into two parts. Part two features a reveal I'm so excited about!

Trivia: the misery lit they read in group is "A Million Little Pieces". Seems appropriate 🙃

Happy reading!

xx

[karahalloway]

(Un)Common Attraction - Author’s Note

(Un)Common Attraction is a Drake x OC romance based predominantly on the Royal Romance - Book 1 Choices game by Pixelberry Studios (though I have borrowed some content from the other books in the series as well). 

If you have played the original, you will notice that I start off quite canon, but I start to diverge from roughly Lythikos, as I've had to adapt the story to fit the narrative of Drake x OC (rather than Liam x MC that the original story gravitates towards).

If you have not played the game yet, then I highly recommend it if you want a light reading RPG game - not only are the stories well written, but the artists have done a great job creating a visually beautiful game that really brings the story to life!

Obviously, this being a fanfic, I don't own the characters or the story from the game. I used the overall plot and some of the dialogue from the game, but adapted and expand on certain scenes to give it my own spin, as well as delve into the characters a bit more deeply.

Having lived in Europe, I have also taken the opportunity to 'correct' some errors and oversights in the story (see the endnotes in the applicable chapters for details). While I have followed the general outline of the story from the game, I had ended up splitting certain chapters from the game into multiple chapters in my own version, as well as moving some content around to better fit the flow of my story. In addition, I have written a number of new scenes, little 'moments in between', to better develop the relationship between Drake and Harper (my OC) - my favourite of these being Escape Plan and Helluva View (these two chapters pretty much wrote themselves).

Astute readers will also notice that I have changed Drake's characterisation a bit to make him more suave and self-assured. He may have always played second fiddle to Prince Liam (Christian in my version — I decided to change the name because Liam is a very Anglo-Saxon name, which I didn't think worked for the prince of a Mediterranean country), but if you look at his family background and values as presented in the original game, then I see the type of guy that I have tried to present in my version, rather than the glum, slightly mopey guy in the original story.

For instance, in contrast to the game, in my version, Drake dresses up a bit more for social events (because no matter how much he may hate the nobles, I just cannot see him turning up to a fancy ball wearing all denim — I think he's too self-respecting for that).

And I mean... Why would he not? 🙃 I swear to God, when I saw this picture, I thought the guy was holding a tumbler of whiskey!

(Face claim: Hugo Philip)

In addition, I have given him a bit more of a life outside of the Prince's circle — see later chapters for details. Admittedly, not everyone may agree with my take on the character (and I've read fanfics where the authors have presented Drake different to how I have chosen to do so), so you are very welcome to check those out as well (see the favourited stories in my library).

Furthermore, while I have read fanfics where the MC gets together with both Drake and Liam, or Drake starts sleeping with the MC behind Liam's back, I have been reliably informed by real life guys that those scenarios (while great for a romance novel) are not realistic and that is not how guys who are best friends operate in the real world. So, yes, the bro-code is really a thing (see Chapter 22) and bros do come before hoes. This is not to say that I didn't enjoy the other stories, but for mine, I tried to be as 'realistic' as I could.

Finally, you will see that I start certain chapters (especially the new scenes I added) with references to songs that helped inspire my writing. They are a mishmash of different genres, and may not be so mainstream, but I hope you'll check them out.

Happy reading! Love to see your comments and insights!

[usergrantaire]

Lights Will Guide You Home: Chapter II

A/N: in other news, i got anon hate for the first time :/ disabled anon for a while, i’ll probably be turning it back on in a couple of weeks or so

anyway, happy pride month!! here’s a friendly reminder that all aces/aros are lgbtq+ and exclusionists aren’t welcome at pride events 🙃

it’s also my birthday month, so there’s that

anyway here’s another chapter for y’all, i’m unofficially on summer vacation (unofficially because i don’t have to go to school until the last day, but the last day isn’t here yet so i’m staying at home) so i’ll hopefully be writing and updating more frequently

READ IT HERE ON AO3

previous chapter: xxx

“So where do you want to go for the honeymoon?”

Éponine reached over to take Enjolras’ right hand in her left, lacing their fingers together and giving his hand a squeeze. The two of them and Victoire were on the road once again a week after the proposal, Victoire fast asleep in her car seat in the back and clutching one of the arms of her Elmo doll as Éponine and Enjolras kept their eyes on the road ahead. They still had a bit of time ahead of them—the ride from Enjolras’ hometown back to New York City lasted roughly five hours, hence their decision to leave early that morning. It had been an hour since they left and the sun was well up, the season being summer, and they still had about four more hours to go until they reached New York once again. To their relief, Victoire had nodded off around ten minutes into the drive after a bottle of formula, though they had no way of knowing when she would be waking up again.

Enjolras smiled and brought Éponine’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and admiring how the engagement ring looked on her finger for a split second before he returned his gaze to the road ahead, his hand still clasped tight with Éponine’s. “Where do you want to go?”

“’Jolras, come on.” Though the look on Éponine’s face was mildly irritated, Enjolras could hear the smile in her voice. “I don’t want any of that ‘whatever you want, I want’ bullshit.”

“Language, ’Ponine,” Enjolras gently reprimanded. “Victoire’s here.”

“She’s asleep,” Éponine reminded him dismissively. Even so, she stole a glance over her shoulder to look at Victoire, just to make sure she was still sleeping. Sure enough, the toddler was still fast asleep, her golden hair falling into her eyes and drool dribbling down onto her shirt, eyelashes fluttering every now and then in her sleep. Turning back to look at the road, Éponine suggested, “What do you think about Hawaii?”

Enjolras made a face. “It’s beautiful, yes, but do you think it’s the right honeymoon spot for us?”

Éponine considered it for a few moments before she admitted, “No, I don’t think so.”

After a few moments of silence, Enjolras driving ahead with one hand and his other hand in Éponine’s, he prompted, “What about Bora Bora?”

“Where is that?”

“French Polynesia. I’ve been there before with my parents when I was fifteen, it’s beautiful.”

Éponine took her phone out to look it up, eyes widening at the pictures she found on Google. “Wow,” she breathed, awed by the crystal-clear waters and the azure skies.

“Do you like it?” Enjolras asked, hopeful.

“Yes,” Éponine replied, pausing for a moment before saying, “but I don’t think it’s the right place for us either. I’ll pass on Bora Bora.”

The two of them took advantage of their daughter being sound asleep to bounce ideas back and forth, suggesting several different honeymoon locations, including Venice, Santorini, Fiji, Dubai, the Maldives, Kyoto, Iceland, Palawan, Florence, Rome, Morocco, and countless other places. Neither of them could seem to agree on a location, and Éponine was beginning to despair—she wanted every aspect of this marriage to be perfect, including the honeymoon location. Why couldn’t they just fucking decide on a goddamn place?!

After some time, Éponine slumped down in her seat, fidgeting absent-mindedly with her locket, and suggested offhandedly, “Paris?”

It had been done a million times before, she knew, but that certainly wasn’t for no good reason—Paris was the city of love, practically synonymous with romance, having been hailed as the dream romantic destination for decades, and ever since she was a little girl, Éponine had always dreamed of going to Paris one day. She had always wanted to explore the city with someone, and who better to explore the city with than Enjolras?

She bit her lip, turning her head to glance at Enjolras, caught off-guard when his face lit up at her suggestion. “Yes, let’s go to Paris,” he agreed almost immediately, a smile lighting up his face and making it look as if his blue eyes were sparkling.

“Really?” Éponine could barely keep the excitement out of her voice, eyes bright.

“Yes, let’s go there!” Enjolras said brightly, enthusiastic as he gave Éponine’s hand a firm squeeze before bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles once again. Éponine felt her cheeks flush pink at the feeling, unable to get enough of him.

“Did we just decide on our honeymoon location?” she asked, feeling like she could cry after half an hour of indecisiveness and debating back and forth between themselves about where to go.

“I think we just did,” he confirmed, turning his head to give her a goofy grin before he focused once again on the road.

Éponine laughed out loud, feeling a rush of happiness surging through her upon finalising yet another aspect of the marriage, wishing she could just marry him right then and there. She wouldn’t care when, where, or how they got married—she just wanted them to spend the rest of their lives together as a married couple, and she wanted the rest of their lives to start as soon as possible.

The rest of the car trip passed by with no event, if one didn’t count Éponine and Enjolras having to change the music from Rent to The Lion King once Victoire woke up and made a big fuss about wanting to feed, screaming her head off until Éponine handed her a bottle of formula, which finally quieted her down. Once they had entered New York City, however, Éponine was all too confused when Enjolras drove right past their street, bewildered when they didn’t go back to their apartment.

“’Jolras, we just passed our place,” Éponine tentatively pointed out to him, stealing a glance over her shoulder. Victoire was still gulping down her formula, content for now. “Why’d you do that?”

Enjolras didn’t respond, keeping his eyes on the road ahead, and Éponine narrowed her eyes in suspicion upon noticing that it seemed as if Enjolras was driving towards Brooklyn. “Enjolras,” she growled under her breath once they were on the Brooklyn Bridge, itching for an answer. “Where the hell are we going?”

“You’ll see.” His cryptic answer only further fanned the flames of her annoyance, but she held her tongue, figuring that this better be good, otherwise she’d kick his ass. Once they were in Brooklyn, Enjolras kept driving on, down a familiar path, and Éponine’s suspicions were only confirmed when they pulled up in front of Jehan’s apartment building, Enjolras parking the car by the pavement and getting out.

Éponine got out after him, going to get Victoire out of her car seat as Enjolras went and got the fancy diaper bag Bahorel had given to them as a gift out of the trunk of the car. Victoire was awake now, squinting under the bright sunlight as Éponine picked her up, securing the little girl in her arms, and the two of them looked at Enjolras, Victoire with curiosity and Éponine with irritation.

“Why are we at Jehan’s place?” Éponine asked slowly once Enjolras had locked the car and they had made their way into the building, entering the elevator together. Victoire rubbed at her eye with a little fist when the elevator began to move up, up to Jehan’s loft, and if Éponine was correct in her suspicions, then Les Amis would be waiting inside to surprise them all with a surprise informal engagement party.

Sure enough, once they reached Jehan’s door, Enjolras had barely knocked on the front door when it swung open and they were met by deafening shouts of “CONGRATULATIONS!” from all of the Amis, and Éponine scrunched up her face and mustered a smile as she and Enjolras stepped inside, Victoire in her arms. It seemed that shouting hadn’t been the wisest idea—Azelma and Courfeyrac’s son Louis, now three months old, started wailing, frightened by all the noise, and Éponine winced at the memories of having had to deal with Victoire’s frequent screaming once they had gotten through that blessed period of time in which she was tranquil. Even still, she couldn’t help but snort in amusement upon seeing Azelma rush to grab Louis from his stroller as Courfeyrac quickly followed; as much as the sisters loved each other, they couldn’t help but laugh at each other’s misfortunes.

Éponine gave them all a giant smile, calling out, “Thank you so much, guys!”

Victoire’s big brown eyes searched the room and soon landed on Grantaire, who was standing with his Yorkie Toby at his feet, and she immediately started trying to pull herself out of her mother’s arms, reaching towards Grantaire. Éponine got the hint pretty quickly and put her daughter down on the wood floor, watching as Victoire toddled towards Grantaire as fast as her stubby little legs could take her, gleefully screaming, “Unca R!”

Éponine couldn’t help but laugh as she watched Victoire leap into Grantaire’s arms, the man catching her in record time while the toddler immediately went to grab at his unruly black curls, tugging insistently at them and laughing at the mildly pained look on his face as she did so. She went over to Enjolras’ side, putting an arm around his waist as he did the same with her shoulders just as Combeferre walked up to them, a wide grin on his face.

“Congratulations on the engagement!” Combeferre congratulated them warmly, embracing Enjolras before doing the same with Éponine. Enjolras couldn’t help but grin back, unbelievably happy and still rejoicing over the fact that Éponine actually said yes.

“Thanks, ’Ferre,” Éponine replied, flashing him a dimpled grin.

“When’s the wedding?” Bahorel shouted out from nearby.

“Next autumn!” Éponine called back in response. When she was met by disappointed groans and complaints of how that was to be in over a year, she got up on a chair and called out, “Guys! We’re still sorting things out, all right? Almost none of our plans are set in stone yet, we literally just got engaged a week ago.” She smiled approvingly when the Amis quieted down, going back to their own things as Éponine stepped off the chair and looked around at the decorations.

She had no doubt the decorations were all Cosette’s doing, perhaps with a little help from Feuilly and Jehan—gold and silver balloons spelling out “congratulations on the engagement!” were taped up on the wall above the fireplace, streamers and fairy lights hanging everywhere and giving the place a sort of warm atmosphere. On the wall spaces between the windows, Éponine noticed pictures of her and Enjolras together through the years, even when they hadn’t been together, had been pasted up and tastefully arranged against the red bricks, a good portion of the pictures containing Victoire as well. Snacks lined a long table pushed up against the wall under the windows, containing popcorn, Skittles, Cheetos puffs, Doritos, cupcakes, several different kinds of pies, and God knows what else among them, and music was playing in the background, Éponine noticing that the song currently playing was “Perfect”. The thought that the music was probably off a playlist of love songs got her thinking about how she and Enjolras would have to decide on a song to dance to for their first dance as a married couple, and the mere thought of it made her shiver with excitement.

She didn’t notice Musichetta and Cosette approach her until one of them tapped her on the shoulder, and Éponine jumped, startled as she turned to look at them both. “Jesus fuck, don’t scare me like that!” she hissed, her face flushed red with embarrassment.

The other two women remained unfazed, and to Éponine’s alarm, Cosette’s eyes filled with tears as she reached up to place her hands on the brunette’s shoulders. “We’re so happy for you, Eppy!” she squealed, biting her lip as she smiled up at Éponine. “We’ve been wondering when Enjy was going to propose for a while now.”

“Let us see the ring!” Musichetta practically demanded, although her tone of voice was fairly light. Éponine laughed and brought her left hand up for Musichetta and Cosette to see, the pair letting out little “oooooh’s” of admiration upon seeing the ring.

“Oh, wow,” Musichetta breathed out, lightly running a finger over the tiny diamonds and the aquamarine inlaid in the ring. “Ep, this is gorgeous.”

“Enjy really went all out, didn’t he?” Cosette remarked blithely, looking back up at Éponine once she had satisfied herself with the sight of Éponine’s engagement ring. “How did he propose?”

“He brought me and Vicky out to a field near one of his parents’ log cabins around sunset,” Éponine replied. “He told me he wanted to take us to see the fireflies. I just stood there by a tree and watched him and Vicky playing with the fireflies for the most part until he came back to me. Vicky was still playing in the field; I have pictures if you want to see them later, they’re really nice. We were talking and then he just popped the question, I guess.” Éponine scrunched up her face, her mind going back to the night Enjolras proposed, and she amended, “Actually, he didn’t technically ask, now that I think of it. We talked about marriage for a bit and I told him I’d say yes if he was planning on proposing, so he just took the ring out of his pocket and said, ‘Marry me.’” She smiled at the memory, remembering how she had felt as if she was on cloud nine when he proposed to her and how she had jumped him in response, kissing him as if her life depended on it before finally saying yes.

Musichetta and Cosette were silent, attentive, as they listened to Éponine recount the tale of Enjolras’ marriage proposal to her, and once she was finished, Cosette let out a dreamy sigh. “That’s so sweet,” she cooed, rubbing her abdomen. Éponine’s gaze fell to Cosette’s stomach and she smiled at the sight of her bump. The blonde was about twenty-one weeks along now, and apparently multiples tended to be born earlier, so Éponine supposed she would have Marius and Cosette’s twins attending her wedding to Enjolras by the time it finally rolled around. Not that she wouldn’t even if they were born at forty weeks; the wedding was hopefully to be in just a little bit over a year, and Cosette was five months along already.

“You’re glowing,” Éponine complimented, and Cosette’s face flushed pink.

“Thanks,” the blonde replied rather shyly, rubbing her swelling stomach. “I still can’t believe there’s two of them in me, though.”

“Neither can we,” Musichetta said, laughing.

“Where are you going for the honeymoon, Eppy?” Cosette turned the attention back to Éponine, not wanting her pregnancy to be the talk of the hour when Éponine and Enjolras were the ones being celebrated. “Wait, are you two even going on a honeymoon?”

“Yeah, we are,” Éponine confirmed, a faint, giddy smile spreading across her face and carving dimples into her cheeks. “Vicky’s going to be staying with Enjolras’ parents while we’re in Paris.”

Musichetta and Cosette’s jaws dropped open simultaneously at the revelation that Éponine was to be honeymooning in fucking Paris with Enjolras. “Paris, France?”

Éponine laughed. “Yeah, where the hell else?”

Musichetta’s eyes widened and without thinking, she screeched out, “Holy shit!”

“There are little ears here!” Grantaire hollered back, covering Victoire’s as Azelma flinched in the corner, desperately trying to calm Louis down with Courfeyrac’s help and only resulting in Louis wailing even louder.

Musichetta brought her hand to her mouth, whispering, “Shit.”

Éponine shook her head, trying to restrain herself from smiling in amusement. “We’ve got little kids around us now, Chetta. Watch your language.”

“Jesus, fine,” Musichetta muttered, cheeks flamed red in mortification.

“Oh, by the way—” Another thought popped into Éponine’s head just then and she needed confirmation from Musichetta and Cosette, and so she requested, “Will you two be my bridesmaids?”

Musichetta’s eyes practically popped out of their sockets at Éponine’s request and Cosette was quick to reply, squealing and saying, “Eppy, of course we will! We’d be honoured to!”

Éponine grinned at their enthusiasm. “Sweet. You two are my bridesmaids now, no take backs.”

Éponine soon left Musichetta and Cosette to make her way over to Grantaire, who was sitting on the rug before the TV with Victoire in his lap. The two of them were watching The Little Mermaid—or at least, Grantaire was; Victoire was too busy trying to coax Toby over to her by reaching out to the dog and making grabby hands as she babbled incoherently. Éponine plopped down beside Grantaire and her daughter on the rug, a huge grin on her face.

“Congrats on the engagement, Ep,” Grantaire told her, grinning at her as he turned his head to press a kiss to her temple. “We were wondering when Enj would suck it up and finally propose.”

“Well, he did, and I said yes.” Éponine held out her left hand to admire her ring, still dazzled by its beauty and catching herself wondering how much it could have possibly cost. Grantaire immediately grabbed her hand to bring it closer to his face so he could properly inspect the ring. After a while, he let out a low, appreciative whistle, green eyes sparkling.

“Damn,” Grantaire murmured, yelping when Éponine smacked him in the arm.

“Don’t swear around my kid!” she scolded him, gesturing to Victoire. The toddler remained oblivious, still trying to coax Toby over.

“Oh, like you never do,” Grantaire retorted. “Anyway, that’s a really nice ring. He must like you a lot,” he drawled, feigning indifference.

“I like to think he does,” Éponine replied airily, playing along and glancing over at Enjolras—he was surrounded by Combeferre, Bahorel, Feuilly, and Joly, being congratulated on working up the balls to finally propose after about a year and a half of being with Éponine. She couldn’t help but smile at the mere sight of him—to think, hopefully in a little over a year they were going to be married and she’d finally get to call him her husband.

“Can I be the flower boy at your wedding?” Grantaire’s words brought Éponine out of her trance and she turned her head to glance at him while he bounced Victoire up and down in his lap. The toddler seemed to have given up on trying to wheedle Toby into approaching her and had settled for watching The Little Mermaid, finally admitting defeat.

Éponine scrunched up her face. “Sorry, R, but ’Jolras and I’ve already decided that this little peanut here—” she gestured to Victoire “—is going to be our flower girl.”

Victoire looked up at her mother upon hearing the affectionate nickname her parents had for her and she beamed at Éponine, dimples carving themselves into her cheeks, and she reached for Éponine. “Mommy!”

“Come here, Vicky!” Éponine picked Victoire up, out of Grantaire’s lap and into her own, and Toby immediately rushed over to Grantaire and leapt into his dad’s lap, wagging his tail. Éponine couldn’t help but cackle at the sight, remarking slyly, “Looks like somebody’s a little jealous of Peanut.”

Toby simply barked in response, evoking laughter from both Grantaire and Éponine, and Victoire soon joined in, giggling and clapping her hands despite having no idea what was going on. “Looks like he is,” Grantaire said once his laughter had died down. Looking between Victoire and Éponine, marvelling at the similarities in appearance—Victoire was basically a mini Éponine, only with blonde hair and Enjolras’ smile as well as that tiny cleft in her chin that she had gotten from him—Grantaire commented, “I guess that makes sense, having Vicky be your flower girl.”

Éponine pressed a tender kiss to the top of Victoire’s head as the little girl turned her attention back to The Little Mermaid, tuning out everything else once again. She loved her darling baby girl so much; she had spent nights crying in Enjolras’ arms over the course of the past year, worrying about whether or not she was a horrible mom after recalling how her own mother had fucked her up, but he never failed to reassure her of her capabilities as a mother, always there to remind her that she wasn’t her parents and she wasn’t going to screw this up. “I just love her so much,” Éponine mumbled, her voice barely audible. “She has to be a part of the wedding.”

“Well, yeah, she’s your daughter,” Grantaire pointed out, stating the obvious. “I’d be concerned if she wasn’t. When are you planning on getting married?”

“Late September or early October next year,” Éponine replied, caressing Victoire’s soft golden hair as the little girl kept her deep brown eyes glued on the TV screen. “’Jolras and I’ve decided on getting married in Central Park like Marius and Cosette did. Maybe we’ll even have the ceremony on Cherry Hill like they did. We still haven’t decided on a venue for the reception yet, though—I’ve looked some places up, they’re all equally nice and that’s making it hard to decide between them.” Éponine lightly rested her chin on the top of Victoire’s head, swaying slightly from side to side to “Part of Your World”.

“Wow,” Grantaire murmured. It felt like it had been only yesterday when he and Éponine first approached Les Amis at that café that had become their sacred spot, and now here they all were. “It’s kind of hard to believe you’re actually getting married.”

“Yeah, well, it was kind of hard to believe I was pregnant with Vicky here when I was, but look at us now.” She patted Victoire’s head and pressed another soft kiss to the top of her daughter’s head, making her giggle slightly. Éponine sighed, giddy about her upcoming wedding and impatient to set a date. “I’m just so excited,” she murmured, a smile spreading across her face and quickly morphing into a huge grin. “I was seriously considering asking ’Jolras to elope, I’m so excited.”

“Hey, we want to be a part of this too,” Grantaire mock-protested, feigning an indignant look and eliciting a snort from Éponine.

“Yeah, that’s why we didn’t end up eloping, my dear R,” Éponine informed him, sickening sweetness dripping from her tone. “You’ll probably be asked to be one of the groomsmen.” Looking around at their friends, Éponine remarked, “I think all of you guys will be asked to be groomsmen. That’s how it was with Marius and Cosette’s wedding, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Grantaire grinned to himself upon imagining the bachelor party they were inevitably going to throw for Enjolras after forcing him into agreeing to let them do so, already beginning to get ideas and making mental notes to bring them up later. “I look really hot in a tux.”

“Too bad Jehan hasn’t noticed yet,” Éponine commented rather snarkily. Grantaire was quick to smack her in the arm, glaring at her and only succeeding in making her laugh her ass off at his expense.

“Oh, shut up,” he muttered, his cheeks flaming red. “I’ll have you know we’ve been out on several dates now. Things are getting pretty serious, Ep.”

“If you say so.” Éponine turned her attention back to the TV screen, absent-mindedly stroking Victoire’s hair as the two of them watched The Little Mermaid, Victoire completely focused on the movie.

After a while, Grantaire asked, “Will you and Enj be going on a honeymoon?”

“Yep,” Éponine responded surely, popping the ‘p’ and smiling at the thought. “We’re going to Paris.”

“Oh, wow, Paris?” Grantaire’s green eyes widened at the information, wondering how the hell they were going to cover all the wedding costs. “Isn’t that expensive?”

“Enjolras’ parents insisted on paying for everything,” Éponine explained, shrugging. “We tried to turn it down but they wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I guess we’re going to splurge. They offered to take care of Vicky while we’re in Paris as well, so we’ll be leaving her with them for two weeks or for however long our honeymoon will be.”

“Wow.” Grantaire let out another low whistle, amazed by how much thought Éponine had already put into the wedding.

After some time, Éponine murmured, “Vicky?”

Victoire turned around to crane her neck and look up at her mother upon hearing her name, brown eyes wide. Éponine told her softly, “I’m going to leave you with Uncle R, okay? I’m going to go see Auntie Zelma. We can do that, right, baby?”

Victoire simply smiled that sweet little smile of hers at Éponine, displaying four teeth and little dimples, and babbled some nonsense in response, evoking a laugh from Éponine. “I’ll take that as a yes, then!”

She pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead before lifting her out of her lap and handing her over to Grantaire; Toby had jumped out of his lap to go explore the loft for a little bit, having been spending more and more time over there for the past few weeks. Victoire immediately stood up to face Grantaire, grabbing his face with her starfish hands and kissing his nose; Éponine could hear Grantaire laughing loudly at the gesture as she made her way over to Azelma in the corner.

Azelma and Courfeyrac had finally managed to get Louis to calm down, the three-month-old now peacefully sleeping in his stroller, and the redhead was a little more than a bit frazzled by the time Éponine made her way over to her. Courfeyrac had left to congratulate Enjolras before Éponine found her way to Azelma, and the brunette asked, “You okay?”

“I’m sorry if I ever belittled or made fun of your parenting efforts in this past year, whether intentional or not,” Azelma blurted out rapidly, the words spilling out of her mouth all at once. Her auburn hair was a bit of a mess, her clothing wrinkled and bags beginning to form under her eyes, and Éponine pursed her lips at the sight. Azelma’s hazel eyes were full of despair as she asked, “Ep, tell me the truth—am I a terrible mom? Am I just like our mom?”

“No, Zelma, of course not!” Éponine was quick to reassure Azelma that she was nothing like their own mother was. “You’re trying your best. We all are. That’s what matters in the end.”

“But what if Louis grows up to hate me even when I’m trying my best?” Azelma wailed, glancing at the sleeping baby in the stroller beside her. “It’s happened before, Ep, kids end up hating their parents even if their parents are trying their best and doing what they think is right for the kid. I don’t want that to happen.”

“It won’t,” Éponine firmly reassured Azelma. “Not if I have anything to do with it.”

She glanced at Louis, sleeping soundly in the stroller, a corner of his blankie scrunched up in his little fist—he had quite a bit of hair for being only three months old, having inherited Azelma’s auburn hair, though he had inherited his unruly curls from Courfeyrac. Besides the fact that he also had Azelma’s hazel eyes and olive skin tone, Louis looked like a tiny baby Courfeyrac, and Éponine smiled at the sight of her nephew, restraining herself from reaching out and softly pinching his chubby cheek.

“Congrats on the engagement, Éponine.” Azelma’s change of subject brought Éponine back to earth and she looked up to look at her sister, who had smoothed out her hair as best as she could and mustered a smile. “Can I see the ring?”

Éponine held out her left hand for Azelma to see, and she let out a small whistle at the sight of the stunning engagement ring on Éponine’s ring finger. “Damn,” she murmured, running a finger over the aquamarine the ring had been embellished with. “This shit must’ve been expensive.”

“Yeah, I guess it was.” Éponine joined Azelma in admiring her engagement ring, thinking about how she had barely ever taken it off in the past week with the exceptions of when she and Enjolras were bathing Victoire and she was showering. Once she and Azelma were facing one another again, Éponine took a deep breath and requested, “Zel, will you be my maid of honour?”

Azelma nearly choked on her own spit. “For real?”

“Yeah,” Éponine affirmed, sheepish. “It’s just—you’re my sister and we’ve been through a fuckton of shit together. I think it’s only right that you’re my maid of honour. If you’re willing, obviously.”

“Of course I am!” Azelma’s hazel eyes were wide at Éponine’s words, and she was quick to say yes to her older sister’s request. “I’d love to be your maid of honour, Ep.”

Éponine positively beamed when Azelma agreed, letting out a cry of delight and pulling her sister into a tight embrace, which Azelma awkwardly returned. Éponine was planning on asking Gavroche later if he would be willing to escort her down the aisle since their father was very much absent from their lives and had been for the better part of seven years or so and she turned around as her hand went to her locket to play around with it, her gaze landing on Enjolras, who was surrounded by most of the Amis, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him looking so utterly helpless as they peppered him with questions.

At the kitchen island, Enjolras was being bombarded with questions left and right, having been trapped by Courfeyrac, Jehan, Bahorel, Feuilly, Marius, Joly, and to some extent, Combeferre, and there was no escaping them now, not when they were talking over each other so damn much and practically attacking him with all their questions. Combeferre remained the calmest out of all of them, keeping silent for the most part, although Enjolras didn’t miss the sympathetic looks Combeferre sent his way as the others barraged him with endless, often repetitive questions.

“Guys!” Combeferre eventually shouted over the noise, effectively shutting them all up. The bespectacled man gestured to a helpless Enjolras, telling them all, “One question at a time, you’re stressing Enjolras out. Lord knows he’s already got enough to stress about with the wedding he has to plan.”

“Thank for the reminder, ’Ferre,” Enjolras grumbled under his breath. He just wanted to get married to Éponine, damn it—he didn’t care how or when or where, all that mattered to him was finally being able to call her his wife.

Although admittedly, the idea of a big white wedding did sound appealing, though neither he nor Éponine wanted too many guests—he vaguely recalled how they had discussed not liking being surrounded by so many people a million years ago at Marius and Cosette’s wedding. He was willing to put up with having a million guests if his parents insisted on it, though. A small price to pay for finally getting to marry the love of his life.

“How d’you feel, Enjy?” Courfeyrac questioned, grinning from ear to ear and wiggling his eyebrows.

“I just want to marry her already,” Enjolras admitted, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards in a slight smile. “We probably would have gotten married the day after I proposed if we had had our way.”

“No offence, but we’re glad you didn’t,” Bahorel told him candidly, taking a sip of wine. “We want to be a part of this shit too, you know. Our chief and my little sister getting married. We’ve been waiting for this for a long time now, you have no fucking idea how sick we all were of all the pining between you two.”

“Which is precisely why we didn’t end up eloping,” Enjolras said, rolling his eyes in mild amusement when Bahorel offhandedly referred to Éponine as his little sister despite the two of them having no relation whatsoever. “Will you guys be my groomsmen? All of you?”

“Is that even a question? Of course we will!” Feuilly gave Enjolras a warm smile, delighted at the news that two of his friends were finally on their way to tying the knot.

“We’re throwing a bachelor party for you, just FYI,” Courfeyrac butted in, grinning deviously at Enjolras and seeming to already have more than a few ideas in mind. Enjolras sighed, figuring that he might as well agree since the others would force him into having a bachelor party anyway if he refused.

“Okay, fine.”

“What’s it like being engaged?” Jehan questioned, bright-eyed and curious.

“Mostly the same, truth be told,” Enjolras replied. “It’s just the fact that she’s my fiancée now instead of my girlfriend that makes a difference.”

“But how do you feel?” Joly pressed.

“Excited.” Enjolras couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having his friends bear witness to his wedding when it finally rolled around. “I just—I love her so much; I can’t wait to marry her.”

“Awww,” Jehan cooed, absolutely in love with how in love Enjolras was with Éponine. “You two are too cute together.”

“Where are you going to get married? And when?” Marius asked out of the blue, green eyes finding Enjolras’ blue.

“We’re planning on getting married in Central Park next autumn,” Enjolras responded. “Early September or late October. Maybe we could get married on Cherry Hill like you did?” He phrased it more like a question, and Marius beamed at him.

“Oh, that would be so neat!” Marius clapped his hands together, delighted as he asked, “What about the reception?”

“We’re planning on having an outdoor wedding and an indoor reception,” Enjolras told them all. “We’ve looked up some venues for the wedding reception; we haven’t decided on one yet, but I would really love to have the reception at the Lighthouse at Chelsea Piers.”

“Noice,” Courfeyrac commented, grinning widely.

“Are you two going on a honeymoon?” Feuilly enquired, leaning forward above the kitchen island.

“Yes, we’re going to Paris,” Enjolras told them. “Victoire’s going to stay with my parents while ’Ponine and I are in Paris.”

“You two are really going to go all out with this wedding, aren’t you?” Bahorel whistled appreciatively upon hearing Enjolras’ grand plans for his wedding. “How are you even going to afford everything?”

“My parents insisted on paying for it all,” Enjolras admitted, sheepish. “The wedding, the reception, the honeymoon, the clothes, the catering—everything. We tried to say no but they wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I suppose we’ll be going all out. I just want ’Ponine to be happy, honestly,” he murmured, bowing his head to try and hide his giddy smile. “We’ll definitely have to make some compromises at some point, but in the end, if she’s happy, then I’ll be too.”

Courfeyrac grinned and raised his glass, prompting the others to do the same, as he announced, “To Enjy!”

“To Enjolras!”

Enjolras felt his cheeks grow warm at the gesture, and eventually enough, they had all dispersed except for Combeferre. Enjolras was just about to speak when he felt something collide with his legs; he looked down to find that Victoire had fallen backwards into a sitting position, eyes watery and in a daze from her collision, and she started to cry—loudly—reaching up for Enjolras and wailing, “Daddy Daddy Daddy!”

He bent down to pick her up, gently shushing her and bouncing her up and down in his arms as she stuck her thumb in her mouth, sucking at it, tears streaking her pudgy cheeks. “It’s all right, Peanut,” he murmured softly to her, gently bouncing her up and down as her wails gradually died down. “Daddy’s here.”

After a while, Victoire took her thumb out of her mouth and wiped the saliva off on her little blue shortalls before her arms went to wrap around her father’s neck, her head on his shoulder. Enjolras made sure she was secure in his arms before he turned back to Combeferre, who was watching the both of them intently.

“’Ferre, I have a huge favour to ask of you,” Enjolras began, grimacing slightly when Victoire grabbed some of his curls in her hand and tugged at them.

“Whatever it is, the answer is yes,” Combeferre responded swiftly.

Enjolras chuckled, his head being tugged down a little bit as Victoire pulled at his hair even more insistently, merrily laughing and babbling as she twisted her little fingers into her father’s golden curls. “So you’ll be my best man?”

“Of course I will,” Combeferre replied, positively beaming at Enjolras. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel great.” Enjolras paused for a moment to press a kiss to Victoire’s forehead once she finally disentangled her fingers from his hair, grabbing his face and kissing his nose, evoking a laugh from both him and Combeferre. Once Enjolras had turned back to Combeferre, he asked rather hesitantly, “Combeferre, do you think—will I—do you think I’ll be a good husband to ’Ponine?”

Combeferre reached out to place a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder. “I know you will, Enjolras.” Combeferre was completely earnest as he told the groom-to-be, “You’ve already done such a great job so far being her boyfriend and Victoire’s father. Honestly, you two are practically married already—you just haven’t made it completely official yet.”

“I don’t want to let her down,” Enjolras murmured, his gaze trailing to Éponine across the room as Victoire grabbed at his hair again, and he smiled wistfully at the sight of his fiancée. “I don’t want to disappoint her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Enjolras was rarely this vocal about his innermost feelings, though Combeferre wasn’t surprised that now was one of those rare times when he was, considering how he was engaged to be married. He was understandably anxious about things; it was certainly a massive step for both him and Éponine, actually getting married. Combeferre patted Enjolras’ shoulder, noticing how Victoire’s starfish hands were still wound into her father’s curls and resisting a laugh at the sight of Enjolras looking so obviously uncomfortable as his daughter tugged at his hair, the little blonde toddler giggling and looking as if her father’s discomfort was the funniest thing in her life at the moment.

“I’m sure Éponine feels the same way,” Combeferre reassured Enjolras. “She wouldn’t have agreed to marry you if she didn’t, right?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Enjolras bit his lip, gazing at Éponine from a distance and wincing slightly when Victoire gave his hair a particularly harsh tug. “I love her so much. I don’t want to let her down.”

“And you won’t,” Combeferre told him confidently. “Anyone could see how much you two clearly love each other and how much you both love Victoire. Will there be bumps in the road along the way? Absolutely, but you two always work things out. You have nothing to worry about, Enjolras.” Changing the subject a bit, Combeferre added, “Also, I’ll make sure Courf’s bachelor party plans don’t get too out of hand.”

Enjolras mustered a smile before it quickly morphed back into a grimace when Victoire pulled at his hair yet again, giggling the entire time. “Thanks, ’Ferre.”

Combeferre soon left to go chat with Joly, Musichetta, and Bossuet, leaving Enjolras at the kitchen island with a restless Victoire in his arms. From across the room, Enjolras caught Éponine’s eye, and upon seeing her face light up with a dimpled grin when she noticed him looking at her, her deep brown eyes sparkling, he smiled.

A/N: and there’s that for chapter two, hmu if you want to talk fic (although anon is off for now........ oh well)

hope you liked it! as always, likes/reblogs/comments appreciated

next chapter: xxx