#heard season 2 is coming and if anything happens to him- i will throw myself against the wall sticky hand style.

[the-vegetarian-artist]

So... I acquired a new blorbo...

I'll post a finished sketch dump when I get the energy to finish it...for now- love hims with me~☆

[ellewritesalright]

The Ward

Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Masterlist - Part 2

Synopsis: Aemond has a fascination with you, his mother's pious ward from a vassal family of House Hightower, but he has a peculiar way of showing it.

A/N: Hi!! this is set in and around the last few episodes of season 1. Reader is unnamed but comes from a noble house from the reach. I made up a Tyrell lord because I just wanted a name to throw about, but it's not that serious :) I wanna do another part of this, so lmk if you're interested and would like to be tagged

Warnings: mentions of the war, burning, Aemond being a flip-floppy bitch to reader, Aegon being a bit of a creep, and pls lmk if I've missed anything

Word Count: 3900

The halls of the Keep were quiet, despite the impending ruling of Lord of the Tides and the huddles of highborn folk who were visiting for the occasion. You walked through the grand passageways, a shawl over your shoulders for your journey outside the castle walls.

"Where are you off to this afternoon, my lady?" You heard Aemond's smooth voice from an alcove you'd just passed. You took a step back towards the sound as he made himself known, his tall frame coming out into the corridor.

"To the Sept, Prince Aemond. I'm going to pray," you answered.

He gave a slight nod and echoed, "Going to pray."

"Yes."

His eye was so focused on you, so attuned to your face that you felt he was trying to read your mind.

"You're aware that your presence is required at dinner this evening?" He inquired, folding his hands behind his back. “Rhaenyra and her brood will be in attendance.”

"Yes, your highness. I'll be back before the festivities begin," you assured him. "I only wish to say a few prayers on holy ground, several of which will be for the royal family."

Aemond's lips twitched into the smallest smirk. "You would pray for us?"

"Of course," you nodded. "I pray for everyone in this house. I always begin with King Viserys and pray for his health, then I thank the gods for Queen Alicent and her kindness in making me her ward, Ser Otto for his unending wisdom, I pray for Prince Aegon, Princess Helaena, and their children that all of them prosper, then I pray for you, my prince."

"And what do you ask for when you pray to the gods for me?" He raised a brow, complete curiosity on his pretty features.

"For the gods to protect you," you answered.

He let out a quiet laugh, one you almost mistook as a scoff. Perhaps it was a scoff.

"You think I need protection, my lady?" He smirked.

"Everyone needs protection."

"But I most of all?" He raised his brow again. "Do you think I'm not strong enough to protect myself?"

"I never said such a thing. I only said that I pray for your protection."

"Hm, well, how considerate of you, my lady," he appraised, a foreign glint in his eye. "Take a guard when you go out."

You nodded softly. "Yes, of course."

He looked at you for a moment longer, then he turned and walked away.

……….

The conversation before dinner was dull, even despite the tension among the family members. No one mentioned lord Vaemond, the dead man in the bowels of the Keep being cared for by the Silent Sisters. Though the lack of mention for his severed head was not the root of the ill mood this evening; you had only known this group to dislike each other.

You didn't fully understand why the family had splintered so, since you became Queen Alicent's ward only after Princess Rhaenyra and her family had moved to Dragonstone. You knew it happened after the funeral of Prince Daemon's second wife and had something to do with Aemond's missing eye, but you had never been given the full story from either side.

The tension in the family was only exacerbated by the king's poor health. King Viserys should have been resting, not hosting his entire family to dinner, but alas, you were all gathered at the table waiting for his guards to carry him in.

Across from you, Prince Aegon was expectedly fidgeting in his chair, prisoner to his boredom and wishing the night would end so he could sneak off and do something depraved. Beside you at the head of the table, Prince Aemond, ever the calm and dutiful brother, sat back in his seat, his lips pursed in that unknowable way he seemed fluent in, especially as he stared down the table at Lucerys.

You made polite conversation with Otto Hightower where he sat to your left. He had always liked you, seeing as he had been the coordinator of your guardianship under Queen Alicent. Ser Otto was even the one to bring you on the carriage journey from the western lands of the Reach to King's Landing when you were just fourteen. You had learned much at court since then, growing to be whispered about as a fine young lady.

"Lord Denton Tyrell sent his regards to you, my dear," Otto turned to you, ignoring the smalltalk between Rhaenyra's group.

Aegon scoffed into his wine across from you.

"Did he?" You smiled kindly, though you were not sure it reached your eyes. Lord Denton was fifteen years your senior, and quite a lumbering fool.

"Mentioned you in a letter I received from Highgarden. Seems you made quite the impression on him at the last hunt."

You reached for your wine. "I barely spoke to him during the hunt, I wasn't aware I made any sort of impression."

You felt a stare on you, and you didn't have to look to your right to know that Prince Aemond was watching you, as he often did. But another prince was watching you too.

“We know what he's interested in, don't we, my lady?” Aegon smirked at you.

“Not another word, grandson.” Otto leveled him with a look across the table.

“Marriage,” Aegon said in an innocent tone, holding his hands up. “He is sure to be interested in a union with our lovely, pious ward. A coupling, if you will.”

Otto gave him another look, and Aegon looked as though he wanted to continue his impish teasing, but just then King Viserys was being carried into the room. Everyone stood beside their chairs as he was brought to the empty spot at the middle of the table.

The family sat back down and dinner proceeded. After a moment of heavy air, King Viserys began to speak to his family, addressing them as equals and not as their king. Rhaenyra spoke, then Alicent, and it seemed any animosity had disappeared from their memories. Dinner progressed further, and you watched Rhaenyra's sons--mostly Jaecaerys–butt up against Aegon and Aemond as the three stood and seemed square for a fight. But then, finally, the three of them sat again, and a temporary peace was made. The musicians returned to playing, and Ser Otto began engaging you in casual conversation again, both of your stares straying to Jacaerys and Helaena as they danced.

You caught Aemond glaring across the long table at Lucerys, and your eyes flicked down to his hand in his lap, how it clenched into a fist. Without thinking, you lowered your hand beneath the table and reached for him. Your fingers settled over his knuckles, and he broke his glaring at Lucerys and instead looked over at you, his eye losing its hard edge. The bones of his knuckles rippled under your hand, and you felt a chill run down your spine as he flattened his fingers then folded them around yours. Aemond gave you a slight nod, then looked over to his sister and nephew dancing, his hand still in yours.

From the corner of your eye, you could vaguely see King Viserys being carried to his room again as dinner trays were being brought in. You let go of Aemond's hand as servants approached your end of the table with a suckling pig. Above the music, you could faintly make out laughter, and you looked all the way down to the other end of the table to see Lucerys smirking at Aemond and the pig.

Before you could take his hand again, before you could so much as look at him again, Aemond had slammed his fist on the table and rose to his feet.

“Final tribute,” he called, eye intent on Lucerys and Jacaerys. “To the health of my nephews Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… strong.”

You went rigid in your seat as the ensuing tussle broke out. There was nothing civil about how Aemond shoved Jace to the floor as soon as he stepped closer, and how Aegon pinned Luke to the table when he tried to join Jace. Ser Otto rose beside you, and you watched as guards tore the Velaryon boys away from Aemond and Aegon.

Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra seemed to admonish their respective children--though you weren't sure how effective the scoldings were considering the glares their children still sent one another–and then the Velaryons and Daemon's daughters were sent to bed. You watched as Aemond squared his shoulders, then stalked away.

“I shall also take my leave for the evening,” you said to the Hand. “Goodnight, Ser Otto.”

You kept your pace steady as you left the room, but once you were in the hall you were hurrying.

“You shouldn't have done that,” you said as you caught up to Aemond.

He didn't even look over at you. “I was complimenting them, my lady.”

“No one at that table took it for a compliment, your highness.”

“It is remarkable how when you speak, my mother's voice comes out.”

You frowned at him. “You know I'm right, you just won't admit it.”

“I know you believe yourself to be right.” He stopped in front of you, his eye narrowed to a knife's point. “Does your arrogance stretch so far as to think I should heed your wisdom?”

You buckled under his cold eye. “I only meant–”

“You meant to belittle me for my behaviour and tell me I am in the wrong for not taking the righteous path the gods would have me seek. If you didn't lack the worldly understanding of so much as a dormouse, I might be inclined to listen. But as it stands, I am not obliged to heed you."

You had no time to respond, as he turned on his heel and stalked down the royal family's wing. You stood in bitter silence, thoroughly lashed, as you watched him leave.

……….

The library was empty this morning. None of the maesters were hanging about as they often did, all busy after Aegon's crowning yesterday. Barely twenty-four hours had passed since you were informed that King Viserys was dead, yet the world felt upturned. Your warden, the now-Queen Mother Alicent, had brought you a dress to wear for the coronation, and you wore it again today, just without the ornamentations of jewelry. It was a deep green, a departure from the usual grays and blues you often wore, but you were grateful to her for it. It was difficult to not appreciate all she had done for you by bringing you to court, even if her son had scorned you.

You huffed and closed your book, setting it on the small stack you'd accumulated. You heard the far door open, but no footsteps. When you looked over your chair at the other patron of the Keep's library, you hurried to stand.

“Your highness,” you nodded at Aemond, watching him come further into the room. He seemed light on his feet today, not as angry as you had seen him as of late.

“Why the forlorn expression, my lady?”

“It is nothing, your highness.”

Your words lost their conviction the longer he stared at you, his eye seeming to peer into your soul. Aemond had stood beside you at Aegon's crowning, not looking at you the entire time. Whether that was due in part to his harsh words for you the night of the dinner, or more because his envy forbade him to look away from Aegon, you could not tell. But right now he was staring at you like you were the only thing in the room.

You let out a small breath and prepared yourself for a second round of insults today. “I was merely wondering how the Princess Rhaenyra must be feeling this morning.”

“Why?” His response was quick.

You struggled to keep your fingers still and indifferent to tension as you clasped them together in front of you. You glanced away from his hard stare.

“Why, my lady?”

You pursed your lips. “It just seems unfair, is all. It couldn't be easy for her, hearing what happened yesterday.”

“King Viserys changed his mind, my lady. Would you like to take it up with the queen mother?”

“No.” Your eyes snapped up to his face. “No, my prince, I would not dare.”

“And yet, I detect dissent."

"Not dissent, your highness," you shook your head lightly. "I have always known your mother to be the most trustworthy of figures. If she says King Viserys changed his mind, then I believe her. It's just that I feel some remorse for princess Rhaenyra; this has been her life's trajectory for some twenty-odd-years."

Aemond looked at you, his eye piercing. “My half-sister is not fit to be queen.”

“And his grace, King Aegon, is?” You said it quietly, but you knew after they had slipped out that your words could be interpreted as dangerous. “I only meant… King Viserys didn't ready his grace for the throne, not like he did with Princess Rhaenyra.”

Aemond looked at you with measurement in his brow. He leaned in slightly, looking at you with that veil in his eye, the one that hid him from any discernable emotion.

“Perhaps your thoughts are best kept to yourself, my lady. Do not speak to any other how you have spoken today.” You felt his breath on your face. “They may not be as forgiving as me.”

You nodded, closing your lips and taking a quiet inhale through your nose. He raised a brow, as though prompting you to respond, and you did, “I won't repeat myself to anyone, my prince. I'll stone the sentiment from my mind.”

He looked at you a moment longer, then pulled back. “Don't leave the Keep, my lady. Not even to visit the Sept. You must pray from inside these walls for the next few weeks.”

“Why?”

You could tell he didn't want to say at first, his shoulders tensing just a modicum. “It is for your protection, my lady. Who knows what Rhaenyra's side would do to you?”

“I have no part in this conflict among your family.”

“You do.”

“I don't, your highness,” you said more firmly. “I am a mere ward, there is no cause for any harm to befall me.”

“Rhaenyra's Council will see yesterday's events as an act of treason. Everyone who was on the dais yesterday, including you, my lady, will be treated as committing such treason.”

You closed your mouth.

“So,” he spoke with a slightly softer tone, “for the love of the Seven, stay inside.”

He once again prompted you with his brow, and you nodded, “I understand, my prince.”

……….

The evening had been strange for you.

After your library run-in with Prince Aemond that morning, you spent most of your day with Helaena, helping her care for the twins as she worriedly stitched. You had dinner in your chambers, feeling uncomfortable about being near most of the royal family right now. They were all busy, anyway; word had traveled yesterday with Rhaenys on the back of Meleys, informing Rhaenyra of Aegon's ascension, and your ward's family would undoubtedly be fortifying themselves, shoring up support for the crown in whatever way they could. An inkling whispered to you that they would surely marry you off to some lord to gain favour or loyalty, though you prayed that would not be the case. There was not a lord in the kingdom you'd met thus far whom you felt compelled to wed.

You did not prepare properly for bed that evening. All you did was take off your dress and collapse on top of your sheets, only your shift covering you as you quickly passed out. You had meant to just rest your body before you prepared a bath for yourself, but you did not rise again.

You dreamt of Aegon's coronation; all came to pass in the same way as reality, except as Ser Criston put the crown on his head, the people began to stir in outrage. Angered screams filled the dragon pit, and by the time Rhaenys and Meleys rose from the ground the crowd seemed to praise her for interrupting the ceremony.

Prince Aemond stepped in front of you again, as had happened in reality, except this time Meleys had opened her throat and fire had torched all in her path. You felt the heat of it, and as the line of fire came towards you and Aemond, your body jolted awake.

You gasped, moving to brace your hands over your face and save yourself from the flames. It was then you realized there was a warm weight on your stomach, something your hand had knocked against as you startled. Adrenaline returned to your veins and you pushed at the weight, but it pushed back, hands coming out to stop you at your wrists.

By the gods, it was a person.

You started to scream, terror taking reign as your mind raced with the possibility of who could be about to harm you. Was it an assassin sent by Rhaenyra to kill you in your bed, or a thief who had somehow crept into the Keep to defile you?

A hand quickly covered your mouth, and your jaw trembled so that you bit down, but there wasn't enough force to truly harm your assailant.

“Shh,” a voice came through to you in a quiet tone. “It is only me, my lady.”

Familiarity struck you, and you noticed the outline of long hair and the strap for a patch running over it. Your eyes caught on a lit carrying candle across the room, sitting on the dresser near your door, and you saw the way its light bounced softly off of white-blond hair. Your body stopped struggling.

“Aemond?” You murmured into his hand.

“Tis I.”

He removed his hand and you let out a breath with the realization it was just Aemond. But you weren't able to settle completely, especially not as he snaked down your body again, returning the weight of his head to your stomach.

“My prince, this is entirely inappropriate,” you muttered, your muscles freezing as he clung to you.

"I would never defile you, my lady," he whispered into your thin shift, his voice strained. "I only sought you for your familiarity."

Despite his arrogant behaviour towards you as of late, the weakness in his voice appealed to you, and you hesitantly set your hand on his head, your fingers lightly stroking along his scalp. You noticed then that his hair was damp. It was not raining outside the Keep, and Aemond looked too disheveled to have just cleaned in a bath. He must have been on dragonback this evening. Thinking this, you could smell traces of Vhagar on him. A sigh escaped you as you looked down at him.

"What is wrong, Aemond?" You asked lightly.

He would not say for a moment, then he pushed his face somehow closer to you, as though he wanted to burrow himself inside your body. “I have sinned.”

“What have you done?”

He shook his head slightly. “It is grave. Too grave for your ears.”

“Speak it.”

He shook his head again.

You sat up, trying to move out from under him as you huffed quietly. Aemond would not let you move more than this, his hands on your thighs and head having slipped down to your lap as you sat forward. You let out a soft scoff.

“Speak it, my prince, or I must ask you to leave.”

His fingers gripped your thighs, and you were reminded of how near he was to your skin despite your shift, his breath warm along the apex of your thighs. He loosened his hold again, and took in a deep breath.

“I was in Storm's End. Lucerys was there as well, and we quarreled in the sky. Vhagar… she… his dragon was so small in her jaw.”

You felt your heart drop in your chest.

“Aemond, tell me you didn't,” you whispered.

“I cannot lie to you.”

The resignation in his voice did you in, and you ran your palm along your face to stave your anxieties. You felt his nose pressing to your lower stomach but you weren't in a state to push him away, not when he'd all but admitted to slaying his nephew. You set your hand on his head, not stroking his hair but simply putting some weight on him in hopes it may provide comfort. When you next spoke, your throat was dry and you had to swallow your fear in order to make a sound.

"All you can do now is go to the Sept and pray to the gods for forgiveness."

His head shook on your lap. "There is no penance or prayer for what I have done."

You huffed, running your fingers through his hair. Aemond shifted, his hand on your thigh flexing as he tilted his head to the side to look up at you.

"Forgive me," he said. "Absolve me of my sins so that I may continue my life and end this conflict for my family."

"I'm not the one you need absolution from," you shook your head.

"It wasn't a request, my lady."

His lips were pursed and his eye was trained on you, assessing your face with scrutiny. You felt his hand on your thigh gripping just slightly too tight.

"Aemond, I…" you started, feeling your throat dry again. "Your highness, I am not comfortable with you here any more."

"It is not my wish to impose." He spoke as though he didn't see anything wrong with his actions. He made no move to get up.

"It is late, your highness. You must go."

He reached up, palming your cheek with a gentle but assertive touch. "You're warm."

"Prince Aemond, please," you muttered as you tried to shift him off of you. "You mustn't be here any longer."

"Just say it. And I know I will have the strength I need to end the rest of them."

"The rest of who?"

He shook his head yet again, pressing his face into your stomach once more. "I need you to say it. Tell me you forgive me."

"Aemond, you must leave."

As you moved to lean back against your headboard, trying to shake his weight, he sat up and braced his hands on either side of your lap. His slender, callused fingers dug into your bed sheets with a tense ruffle. His face was so close to yours, his breath warm on your cheeks. The look in his eye was impassioned, wide, and with a blown out pupil. His shoulders rose and fell with a heavy motion. Warm air puffed in and out on your face. You couldn't escape the feeling of his breath, or him for that matter.

The next breath you drew bordered on a gasp, however hard you tried to contain it. His eye dropped down to your lips, and you saw his mouth twitch before he could steel his expression and slip back into that impassive Aemond you knew best. You felt another breath on your skin, warm from his parted lips.

He pulled back, his eye losing that feral quality as he steadied himself before standing.

"I am sorry," he murmured, "for disturbing your evening."

His head dipped almost indistinguishably in a soft nod, then he left without a word.

You were still on your bed, crowded against the headboard despite being alone now. You blinked, looking at the candle on your dresser. It was the only evidence that Aemond had been in your room. You watched as the wax dripped in the dish, the wick burning nearly to the bottom. It was hard to say how long you watched the flame burn, but by the time the wick ran out, you had tucked your knees up to your chest, holding yourself as securely as you had Aemond.

……….

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment--I really appreciate the feedback! I'm gonna do more parts of this dynamic so please lmk if you wanna be tagged in them. Also if you want to request a fic for hotd, I will write for Aegon, Aemond, and Jacaerys, so please feel free to send in an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

[puckpocketed]

caps fan here!

as follower of pld (the few, the proud, the courageous!), i was wondering if you had any thoughts about how he might fit in with our team, assuming he's going to be 1C with Ovi on the left and one of Wilson or Mangiapane on the right, and basically taking the former Kuznetsov/Backstrom spot on the halfwall on PP1. my thinking is that he can easily return to being a 60 point player just by the increase in ice time alone this coming season, and maybe even flirt with 70 if he has a triggerman like big O on his wing.

as someone who knows a hell of a lot more about PLD than i do, is that just wishful thinking because i'm a caps fan? what do you think?

The PLD Post, Part 2: mask-OFF

Hii!! (we are SO brave and SO correct). i am so sorry this took ages to answer, i was trying to decide how serious to be. I will admit, I was hesitant about going mask-off and hitting up the microstats and revealing that i do seriously think he can be better than he was bc that shit is kinda lame ESPECIALLY when defending a clear failhorse. but at this point any rep i have as someone with good opinions must be gone considering how many media scapegoats i've attached myself to (i got a fucking. c.gauthier ask the other day aslkjdkljas) so. mask is coming off. we've hit somewhere between well-considered manifesto and vibe check so . um. enjoy!!

I remain optimistic going from everything I've heard and from what you're saying here! But, big big asterisk. He absolutely needs to take ownership of his lack of engagement. when he speaks in media availability I believe him when he says he wants to change. The will to change is there, idk if it’s possible that any player would be satisfied with their performance being the way his was. There’s a lot that needs to be unpacked about his lack of production, the Character Issues, and what his role might look like going forward. You and any other Caps fan who reads this will have to tell me if the fit is right. Hockey talk below the cut lol!!

So before I start I have to say I know dick all about the Caps except:

You're dragging that old man (Ovechkin) to Gretzky's lawn (record) to set it on fire (break it before he retires)

Everyone is pining away for your very very injured 1C who is also Ovechkin's boybestfriend/perfect set-up guy/work wife

There's. intricate pre-game rituals?

So I'm not sure I can speak to how he will fit with your (our? i AM picking the Caps up fr given every acquisition/draft pick they've made) team with any depth or specificity. also i don't think i'd call myself a PLD expert. like. i just got here !! I haven't been following him since he was drafted or anything!! I have, however, consumed TOO MANY Kings games this past season and I can give you a broad look at what actually happened with them and why I think it didn't work out. I will not be making any overtures about being unbiased. My biases WILL slip through because I think Dubois is a sweetheart and I find the mental exercise of defending him fun <3 I’ll give you stats and observations and I will build a story that runs counter to what the prevailing media narratives say. While I stand by my opinions, they're also just one of many available interpretations of what happened.

character concerns

Everyone will be bringing it up at the first speed bump of the season, the first bad game he has. Please be prepared to have a crisis of faith and also be deeply disappointed in him. god knows I am, like, all the time <3 But... I always want to dig deeper when it comes to dominant narratives, because in following multiple teams I’ve become acutely aware of just how miserably Bad media can be at reporting on teams that aren’t their own.

I hear “Locker room cancer” accusations bandied about and I’ve yet to see anyone produce a primary source for this — podcasters, journalists, even people on nhl broadcasts will throw these words around so casually, assuming they’re correct because everyone knows the story. Some confounding factors in the character narratives arise when you scratch the surface. People who've worked with him speak well enough of him. Todd McLellan called him “misunderstood”, and had nothing bad to say about his character.

Matt Roy, who also just got picked up by the Caps, has recently said he’s a great teammate. MORE proof if you want to hear it directly, Roy went on Dropping The Gloves and had this to say about Dubois (transcript by me):

[on what actually happened] Honestly, I don’t know. I mean if you asked him he would say he had a down year. But it’s nothing like — I feel like the media paints this picture of him, and to me it couldn’t be further from the truth, you know. He’s a great teammate, he’s a great locker room guy, he gets along with everybody. So, in terms of all that I don’t know where the media is getting all this stuff. If I hated the guy I probably wouldn’t have come to Washington. He’s one of my friends on the team and I really think he’s going to have a bounce back year. I think he’s really going to be good for the team.

Matt Roy signed with the Caps of his own free will as an RD, a contested free agent in a sparse market, knowing Dubois was already here. He could’ve gone to plenty of different places. Why the hell would Roy sign here long-term, clearly wanting to play and win, if Dubois was as disliked as some pundits would have us believe??? Credible reports (and not just speculation) point to PLD’s other teammates liking him!! 

And here’s some propaganda; I direct you to this extremely sweet video where he gets asked about assisting on Akil Thomas' first NHL goal (and a bunch of other first NHL goals). He is so, so genuinely happy for Akil, who battled through injuries that set back his development for years. Just LOOK at his smile!! He can’t hold it back. (Others have said this but it looks like a little v. Like :> !!!! HELLO !!)

How does all of this happen when, supposedly, he’s a low-character asshole and a “locker room cancer”? It doesn’t line up for me.

On the other hand, I have seen Dubois cruise. He really can’t seem to bounce back from a poor start, and if you were just looking from the outside in, the scoresheet this year reflects this. The critique is fair; I’ve turned this over in my head enough times. there are less physically gifted, less skilled players, who are working so hard to stay in this league, and Dubois’ poor showing does feel somewhat like, idk, something I’d be mad about usually.

Here comes the “but”. Call this next bit the narrative section, because I’m showing my ass here: I think Dubois gets a lot of scrutiny because of his infamous Shift, which went a specific kind of viral, under the exact right conditions, and it has just. defined his career. And okay… I am not denying that the shift happened, but plenty of guys in this league have taken shifts off. come on. the season is long and they're only human. I’m not excusing it either! It was bad and he deserved his benching. Ideally, he one day becomes a player who always puts effort in. Working hard is one of my favourite traits in any player, and usually this would be enough for me to dismiss him as not worth being invested in.

and yet…. the reactions to his floundering performance feel so much like they’re about expectations as seen through the lens of The Shift. They’re calibrated differently because he went 3rd overall, and he's got this big body, the speed, the skill — it's the fact that he's got the tools and seemingly squanders them. All of this is amplified by the contract he's sitting on and his run of short-term stays on teams. Does he get this much scrutiny if he went in the 2nd or 3rd round? Does he catch this much heat for his low energy performance if that one shift clip hadn’t done all that damage? We’ll never know obviously but . I do wonder.

Final word on the character stuff is that we don’t know what truly went on in those locker rooms and i don't want to give more air time to baseless speculation. What we can examine is the hockey. The hockey tells the truth <3

the 23-24 la kings

Assuming the plan is to give PLD a look at 1/2C while he’s on the Caps, I think he’s a complementary type of player. The way he is right now, I don't think he can drive his own line or pull people up. He works with the calibre of lineys he's got and will produce the expected outcome. That sounds so obvious, but what I’m saying is I don’t think he’s capable of miracles like the best playmakers in the league, he's not about to make your guys look 15 years younger. In this vein, I look at his many first NHL goal assists as a symptom of what kind of linemates he was being paired with all season, and how unstable the situation was. His drop in point production IS more complicated than "he's just a piece of shit". From this article, the best summary I've seen of the Situation PLD was in:

LA acquired a player who had been a top-six center (and at times, winger) his entire career playing with established NHL talent. Yet after investing multiple assets to acquire Dubois and sign him to a significant contract, the team decided to put him in a third-line role where his most common linemate was a first-year NHL player who wasn’t expected to be on the roster in Alex Laferriere. Those two had a revolving door of wingers throughout the season. Moreover, Dubois’ most common on-ice teammates after Laferriere at 5-on-5 this season were Matt Roy and Andreas Englund. Gee, I wonder why he didn’t produce?

Context about Roy and Englund: Roy is a quiet but capable d-man who is defensively geared with a bit of offensive upside (j'adore. does things the right way and is very responsible and good. will throw hits but doesn't chase them or headhunt. I think playing away from the Kings’ more passive system will unlock more of his offensive potential. Matt Roy you will be SO good for the Caps I truly believe mwah mwah); and Englund is a leg weight/goon who, going by every single stat I can pull out, makes his d-partners Worse (with affection <3). Point here is neither of them being on the ice was particularly conducive to a lot of scoring chances.

As I said in my previous post, I think Dubois absolutely needs finishers. At some point there was hype around his shot but I didn't see much of that at all on lak? Eye test says: he was unwilling to shoot, and when he did shoot it felt like there was low/no commitment, no power behind it. Comments on his shooting called him “too deferential” at different turns. That’s just an insulting way to say a guy likes to pass and I truly think it circles back to the expectations thing. Would there be anything wrong with him not being much of a shooter this past season if he was another player? (Can't we just say he passed a lot this season without bringing value judgement into it? leave my failhorse ALONE!!!! like must a man score goals ,can't he be very very sweet and happy for the rookies he assisted ? wailing about it forever.)

More fun stats from that same article:

#1 on lak for passes that led to high-danger scoring chances, and scoring chances in general <- again, not a miracle worker. did not have finishers who could capitalise on these chances. its so fucked up what they did to my failwife

one of the best on lak in actually carrying the puck into the o-zone. (another reason i quite liked watching him!! transition forwards my BELOVED) everything I've ever observed about him off the cuff holds true here: he draws penalties this way, because he's fast and when he's locked in he is pretty good for controlled zone entries <3

Dubois had a career high in even-strength assists per 60, this is all in spite of his weird linemate situation and his reduced TOI and the power play mess (more on this later). he might have been deferring, but I truly think the lack of stability + good finishers, and ice time held him back from being more productive.

jim hiller

Building off that last point: even worse on the stability front, which I did allude to in the initial PLD Post, was what happened when Jim Hiller took over. You must understand one of the first clues that we were working with a different animal of a head coach is he was NOT afraid to line shuffle, and shortly after he found short-term success with that, they started running 11 forwards and 7 defensemen (you can see where it started precisely if you scroll back in lak lb because you'll find ME yelling about it LMAO). This shortened forward bench resulted in mid-game line shuffling, as in it was uncertain as to who they would be playing with from shift to shift. Hiller is on record saying he thinks it was beneficial, per this article:

It’s all about getting his deep forward corps engaged in the game. That’s sometimes difficult if you’re running four full lines and there are penalty kill or power play opportunities that alter the flow of the lines. Especially for the group of forwards who don’t kill penalties – think Kevin Fiala, Viktor Arvidsson, Quinton Byfield, Pierre-Luc Dubois – it’s an opportunity to get them extra shifts and engage in the game. “Some of our other players who don’t penalty kill, you know they can lose the flow of the game, so they enjoy it more I know,” Hiller said of having 11 forwards in action. “We’ve talked about it a lot. We really just think for our team, the way it is right now, that gives us an advantage getting those players more ice time.”

(and ok sorry to go off about my gripes with how the kings are run but .They were doing this into playoffs. This article was written during playoffs. god. CARL GRUNDSTROM, WHO HAS NEVER NOT PLAYED HARD, PLAYED 25 SECONDS IN GAME 2. all this while they were trying to get people 'engaged'. Idk. Maybe it did work for some players. I wasn’t behind that bench. But sitting one of your most energetic and committed forwards during a series in which you’re trying to come back from being down several games was a CHOICE!!!! also like what if you didn't double-shift QB. what then. And we all know how that series ended. lak coaching/management i am beating you with a pillowcase stuffed with bricks . <3)

Much was made of the Hiller takeover. I liked it at the time. In his first couple of media availabilities post-TM, Hiller emphasised bringing back "fun" to the game for many of the players who were slumping — and a reportedly tense locker room during the big skid that lost McLellan his job. It was all very Ted Lasso of him. Hiller also introduced a new way to rate Dubois for his performance every night, separate from the scoresheet. I made jokes about PLD's very special star-chart, everyone who knew about it was making jokes about it. This merit system was tailored towards communicating with Dubois what he did and didn't do well, and while no one ever went into depth about it we do know a few things:

It measured things outside of +/-, goals and assists, and was likely a score out of 5 per metric.

One of the metrics was about hits/physicality, another one was likely ‘compete’ levels.

He alluded to being measured on penalties drawn?? Or something??

Anyway it sort of … worked?? The change in Dubois was pretty immediate, the moment he was given some clear direction to work in. He played some of his BEST games of the year in the wake of this change. He got involved physically, he was not losing steam, he was drawing tons of penalties because he’s huge and fast and has good hands and IF he puts his mind to it he can truly be a transition monster.

CUE THE LINE SHUFFLING… imo, much of the progress made seemed to be lost, and the rest is history.

NOT saying Dubois is free of fault here. Needing that extra motivation to get physically involved is kinda wild, and I understand why for some people it’s a bridge too far. EYE am here for the laffs though and it's really funny that the communication came in the form of super special individualised performance evaluations/a glorified sticker chart. This is why he’s my temperamental desert flower. Wilting violet. Soggy kitten. <3 and for the record I truly don’t think I’d care if he put up 40 points per szn for the rest of his career. I don’t care because he’s a sweetie and the Bit i do when defending him is too funny. I don’t think I’d care if everyone was right about him — I just don’t actually think they are.

the power play problem

So okay, as per part 1 (my last email <3) we know Dubois thrives net front. It’s where he scored a bunch of his goals on the Jets. Every stat and the eye test supports this. So how come Lak had him stationed on the half wall doing jackshit, if he was on the power play at all?? I will admit I drove myself half crazy studying power play structures and watching LA Kings games back before coming up with a garbled, half-formed idea about how LA runs their PP. I was going to attempt to explain it here — had to do with Kevin Fiala and Dubois being lefties and how that's just an awkward passing sitch — but it turns out more than one person has had this thought and MAN I love being validated by actual hockey people. I fully thought i was making shit up in my head for a good week or two, and was seriously considering scrapping this portion . but it’s SO important for contextualising the production drop, so here goes !!

As early as September 2023 there was a story published about PLD’s role on PP1 — a place where he certainly should’ve belonged as a top-6 guy with plenty of ppg’s under his belt. From this article, which explains the issue very very neatly, and much more eloquently than I could ever hope to:

The addition of Pierre-Luc Dubois was a big one this summer; at first glance, he should be a great addition to the power play. But when digging deeper, the Kings might struggle to fit him onto the top unit. Dubois played mostly as the net front player for the Winnipeg Jets last season, the role Gabriel Vilardi often played for the Kings last season. So, it’s an easy one-to-one switch in that spot, right? Not necessarily. Dubois has all the talents to be an effective net-front player. He has the size and strength to battle in front, with the skill to effectively pop down low and create chances. However, his handedness is a big problem for this role. The Kings run their power play primarily on the left side with Kevin Fiala — Anze Kopitar when Fiala is hurt — which necessitates a right shot down low. When a right shot player pops out on the left side, there’s an easy passing angle for the half-wall player and more options for the player down low. Quick passing is key for a successful power and a left-shot can’t move the puck quick enough down low. They would have to either move too far into the corner or take the extra second to step out from and open up their body to create an effective passing angle. Time that would slow the power play down too much and allow the opposition penalty kill to get back into position. There’s also minimal shot threat from a lefty down low. We saw both Vilardi and Viktor Arvidsson frequently take the pass down low and quickly turn it into a shooting opportunity, something a left shot wouldn’t be able to do.

It then goes on to suggest 2 solutions that aren’t appealing at all:

Flip the power play entirely to accommodate Dubois net front. Not great as they dont have the players for that, and if they tried it they’d be hamstringing Adrian Kempe’s one-timer.

PLD on the bumper position. This one’s hard to swallow because that displaces Kopitar to PP2, there’s his position as captain and the optics of moving him off his spot.

In this article it is once again suggested that LA MUST flip their power play and figure out how to get PLD net front. In this article they point out how useless he was playing on the wall down the stretch, and how the only reason he seemed to be able to produce something was because he’d taken Kopitar’s spot in his absence. This article calls to attention Dubois’ worlds performance, where team Canada utilised him net front.

Big picture, the Fit

Do we see the problem here yet? It’s not the flat narrative I was sold by the national media, random assholes on twitter, and podcasters who don’t actually watch Kings matches!!!! Do we see how weird and messy and complicated it is, beyond “hey he’s just a sack of shit who isn’t trying hard enough”. Rob Blake himself has come out and admitted that they didn’t put Dubois in a position to succeed. And absolutely there was effort required on his end — a different player might have sucked it up and adapted to circumstances, a different player might never have needed that extra bit of communication, a straight up better player might have dragged his less skilled lineys up to a higher level. But the problem has always been two-fold: LA was trying to coach and manage a completely different player to the one they had in front of them and expecting good results; and Dubois was unable to keep competing with all he had in the face of that. I think both parties are at fault here. And I think, given the chance and the right circumstances, Dubois can hit 60 points again.

Okay, circling back to the big question of Fit. Will he be able to work with Ovechkin? Hard to think he could fail with one of hockey’s best goal scorers on his wing, if he does get a look at 1C. People who know the Caps better than I do, does this sound workable? Is Dubois going to be too difficult of a nut to crack for your coach? Your locker room?

And, of course, the power play issue. Maybe Dubois learns to be better on the half wall! Idk!! Maybe it was a matter of coaching and he thrives in Washington running your PP1 from there. For my money… I like him better playing net front or bumper. Do the Caps have the bodies to accommodate this? I did ask someone familiar with the Caps PP to explain it to me so I could try and figure this out but ouuuugh. My head is spinning. Someone smarter than me please jump in. I am TIRED . We don’t know what it will look like, what they’re planning to do with Dubois on the power play. You guys probably have a better idea about what’s possible than I do <3

Conclusion?

PLD is fast, big, a passing threat and a formidable net front presence when he’s given the opportunity and playing his A-game. As far as I can tell, his B-game is garbage </3 His poor performance is more complicated than people think and I’m pretty sure only the LA Kings beat reporters + the 12 kings fans on twitter know this. Most of them still dislike PLD anyway bc his low motor. I don’t blame them, I’m just more inclined to be forgiving because I love redemption arcs and I think he’s a good person. i would love to be wrong about his low-effort B-game LMAO but im trying to be realistic here. I want him to fit in and be embraced by the Caps so bad <3 Your coach sounds like he wants to help PLD succeed and is up for the challenge. The vibes from my friends who follow the Caps are always good, I’ve read through various tags and it sounds like a place that will take him in whether he likes it or not. I might be stupid but I believe in him !!! and I’ve laid out all the hockey bullshit for you to the best of my ability. Given all of this… do you think he’ll do well?

[oracleofdiscord]

for the oc ask meme, for estrella: 🗡🎨🖊⚡🌪🐱👪

the ask meme

🗡 How good are they in a fight? Do they have a preferred weapon?

Pre-Crystalized, she’s not good in a fight at all. She hangs back when Avery fights and patches her up after. Post-Crystalized, she’s had enough training that she’s definitely better at it than an average civilian. However, I would say that all of the other ninja could still outpace her in a fight. When it comes to signature weapons, I think she has 2. When she first joins the team, she’s still not comfortable being in the thick of the fight, so I think she starts out favoring kunai - in the land of fiction, those are throwing weapons, thus allowing her to keep her distance. But they’re also good in a close-range fight in case she does get stuck in the thick of things. Later, as she gets more comfortable fighting at close range, I think she switches to tonfa. I’d actually been envisioning Sora using the chronosteel to make her a pair of starlight-powered-hardlight blades during the Dragons Rising era…well, I say “blades,” but I was envisioning them strapped to her wrist, so…having seen some videos of tonfa in action, the technique she would use with them would be much more reminiscent of tonfa than swords or even daggers. It makes sense to say tonfa were her signature weapon by that point.

🎨 Do they have a favorite color? What is it?

A tie between navy blue and maroon! Maroon is the signature color of her “civilian palette”, and navy is a prominent color in her “starlight palette” - you can see on a few of her outfits where she hovers between civilian and ninja that maroon and navy are sort of fighting for dominance.

🖊 What season would they be introduced into the story? If not directly introduced in a season, when in the timeline are they introduced?

Well, since she meets Avery post-season 6 (or, technically, when season 6 would have happened but didn’t), and Avery had already met the ninja by then, she could be introduced to them/the story pre-season 7 or during season 7. But I think if I had to narrow it down, she would be introduced in the post-season 7 fanseason idea we’ve vaguely planned out that’s focused on her and Avery. The ninja might have heard of her as a friend of Avery’s before then, but not met her yet.

⚡ What have they been up to after the merge?

I think she got yeeted to the Mother Garden. It looked to me like the Mother Garden was larger than what we saw in the show, and I think it would be funny if some of the other parts were dangerous, so Estrella has spent the few years since the merge traveling around it, occasionally running into or helping people there fight off actual threats. She happens to arrive at the area with the mucoid warriors at the same time Lloyd and Arin do, and so when Lloyd volunteers to walk the Impossible Path, she gives him a warning about how dangerous the Mother Garden can be and is really worried about what it means for the Impossible Path to be the most dangerous place in the Garden…only for it to, you know, play out the way it does in canon. And then she leaves the Mother Garden with Lloyd and Arin.

🌪 Do they know spinjitzu?

Spinjitzu is one of the things Kai trains her to do, so yes she knows how to, and I think that Starlight Spinjitzu is probably very pretty…but I also think she hates doing it. She doesn’t get dizzy particularly easily or anything; it just moves so fast that she doesn’t really feel like she has control while she’s doing it. Like trying to get to a highway exit that’s 4 lanes away at 70 mph.

🐱 If they were to have an animal symbol, what animal would represent them?

Magpies! It’s funny; this was my immediate answer just because it’s an animal I associate with myself and Estrella is the closest of my ocs to being a self-insert, and of the animals I associate with myself, I went with the magpie because thought the iridescent blue wings fit her connection to the night sky. Also, I think she shares my fondness for shiny trinkets (which is not a real trait of magpies but is a superstition tied to them). But then after I’d made the decision to go with magpies, I remembered the story of the Tanabata (star festival) - The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl, a story where magpies play a notable role. So yeah, I think magpies are a good fit for her.

👪 Do they have any family members? What’s their relationship with their family?

It’s not good! But then, would she really fit into the world of Ninjago if her relationship with her family was good? Estrella as a child had trouble connecting to people, and that included her parents. They weren’t overtly cruel, but definitely distant, never giving her much attention past providing food, clothes, and shelter. By the time she was a teenager I think she was definitely a latchkey kid. The most familial affection she got was visits from her Aunt Araceli (the only extended family member she knows), who lived in Ninjago City (Estrella and her parents lived in Stiix) and was a bit better off than Estrella’s parents, often bringing her gifts.  Her relationship with her family wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either…at least, until the Pre-Eminent was released. In the aftermath of the damage done to Stiix, her parents suggested that Estrella move in with her aunt until the rebuilding was done, and then they just…never called her back home. And then Araceli started working more and more because 1) she needed to support another person and 2) she was mostly used to showing Estrella affection through gifts, so she needed more money with Estrella living with her. But the end result was that the one family member who had shown Estrella attention before was now leaving her alone at home a lot…and this in the aftermath of Aethra (Estrella’s only friend) dying during the Pre-Eminent attack…Estrella definitely came out of this period of her life with abandonment issues. I think Estrella and Araceli did eventually talk about their issues, and that relationship improved somewhat, but Estrella did still end up moving into the Monastery once she joined the team and didn’t really struggle to make that decision. On the other hand, I don’t think Estrella ever fixed her relationship with her parents or even bothered to try. I’ve debated the idea of her going back to Stiix at one point only to see her parents with a new child who they’re paying more attention to than they ever did to her. But I haven’t decided if I want to make that canon or not.

[night-faye]

"Let the demon child come out and play!" everybody who knows Nezha lore turns to stare at the camera. I knew with this episode, you'd have two more reasons to hate Peng than just Macky and Mei lol. "This isn't worth your life." "You're right. It's worth far more than that." *sighs in lore.* You need therapy too, this show made it worse. "No matter what options it's giving you, you're always going to end up in the same spot." "Ooooh, thanks Macaque. You went through more effort than usual to make me feel like dirty dirt dirt. Good job, round of applause." ABSOLUTELY CRACKING UP AT MK DISHING OUT ALL THIS SASS AND MACKY'S STUMPED LOOK AND AWKWARD EYE ROLL gosh that face- "You were supposed to realize by now that the choices the game's giving you aren't the only choices you've got. Life isn't some pre-written thing like a video game where you have to do what the tutorial says." "It's time to start making your own choices. Something I wish I'd learned a lot sooner than I did." DULY NOTING THIS DOWN FOR THE S4 SPECIAL. We know, it's hard for you to be pushy when you were younger, always following Wukong and friends. Also ow, the cut to the drawing they made together :') two different art styles, they DID draw that together and Wukong kept it all this time :') :') :') Well now that we're in the S4 special uh hehe, you can see where it comes in :) "Only you get to decide who you are, kiddo." That had NO right to be as soft as it was. Haha yep, very weird how the Celestial beings instantly react to that. Only other thing those three have in common excluding MK is dying and being brought back in different ways.

1) SoySauce Duo is a TREASURE. It's so funny watching MK gush about how Wukong was all cute and cheeky, no WAY he did nothing wrong. "Sir, my client is just a fluffy monkey. Let him go. Is it a crime to be silly?" He'd make a great lawyer lol. Meanwhile, Macky is RIGHT THERE lol. It's ok we already heard his perspective. But he's holding back and is just like.......dude. did you even read the book.

2) Love love love the trope of Macky constantly collecting more monkeys. Those little guys missed him a lot, surely. Also LOL at MK laughing at Macky's expense over being called "bud." There's a misconception that Macky would be calling Wukong "peaches" nah that's all stuff like "your majesty" meanwhile Wukong is nicknaming this grumpy ball of fluff something cute like "peaches." Hard agree with his anguish tho like tell us what happened already for realsies we're still waiting for part 2!! 3) "We have to try. He'd do the same for any of us." Meanwhile Macky: *thinking back to MK's S3 rant and the cave divorce* "I can't believe I'm sticking my neck out for Wukong. Again." says monkey not being forced to do anything. Love also, how he apparently read all 2,000 pages of this book. just divorced ex-best friend nemesis you want to kill things. ALSO 😭 that "Wukong, what have you done." has crazy emotion. you two know each other so deeply. Notice how Wukong's eyebrows used to be all messy like Macky's here 🤔 something something, monkey who tries to appear more like a civilized human to belong somewhere and not be seen as a savage beast. 4) Who knows really why Macky was bandaging himself alone or what fight he got into off screen. Just warrior things. But hey 👀 that promise he reminded Macky of in the 2nd ep this season. It is ILLEGALLY CUTE AND PRECIOUS how Wukong is able to dispel any doubts or concerns Macky has just by poking him all goofy like that and UGH THE CUTE SHY SMILES THAT HE CAN'T HELP BC OF HIS STUPID OPTIMISTIC SHINING LIGHT OF A FRIEND and the FREAKING HAIR RUFFLE "Quit it, eat your dang peach." He says with a complete smile audible in his voice bc his friend is stupidly endearing. "You're a peach!" OKAY WUKONG.

>*throws myself off a cliff*<

[millimononym]

Choose violence ask: 10, 12 and 25 for Galactik Football

k imma be honest this was really hard cuz like. Galactik football is a really small fandom so we don't really have a general "fanon" consensus or really a general Anything consensus so i had to think abt it real hard

10. worst part of fanon

ok so we don't really have a fanon (again) but something i saw in some fics (not bashing anybody btw) quite enough was making the other SK super unlikable to the point of OOC just to make another character seem better or more sympathetic (it's Micro-ice). Just. Complete assholery to a ridiculous level that would never happen in between the main cast(at least in the first 2 seasons) just to make u feel bad for the guy.

And i don't understand that. Because like. Micro-ice is already kind of mistreated in canon? he literally never got an apology for the way he was treated (which made him RUN AWAY IN THE FIRST PLACE!!) and everyone just returned to being friendly with each other despite them never addressing Micro-ice's feelings in a proper way imo. So WHY would you feel the need to make the others OOC to a ridiculous degree to try and make people sympathize with Micro-ice??? He's ALREADY SYMPATHETIC!! Just adress his feelings !!!

Oh and this was also done mostly for shipping reasons because...of course.

Can't have a character have a healthy support system outside of the one person they're dating!! Nope!! We HAVE to isolate a person from their friends by making them uncharacteristically horrible just to make the only outside option look better!! Peak romance!! /S (literally it's just the family friendly version of that fanfic trope where writers kill off canon characters who 'get in the way' of their ship lol)

12.the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

Ok so i know "unpopular" in this context means hated or unliked but... I think i agree with most of the fandoms opinions on this one lol. Just to check, The hated characters that come to my mind are Yuki(don't really hate her on her own, but her relationship with Micro ice makes me wanna throw myself off a cliff so as a side effect i dislike her), Mark(no strong opinions to give except "he's boring" which we've all heard a million times by now), p much everyone in s3...idk i can't really remember anyone else. I personally find duke Maddox annoying but that's not the point of the question

So I'll take this as LITERAL unpopularity. You may have noticed but a while back i was obsessed with The Shadows and giving them personalities since i was upset that as the rival team they never got screen time. I think i was the only one that cared about them lol so there's that. It's just...Sinedd was a semi-main character! And they made a big deal out of him leaving for the Shadows!! And then NEVER expanded on them as a team other than "they aggressive 😢" !!! They should have done something with them!!!! Also the other rival teams as well. We should have gotten more alien content in this sci fi series goddamit!! They all have lots of potential that was unfortunately unused imo

25.common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

I agree with most common fandom complaints..but as this is a small fandom, so we probably think of different things (or I'm just forgetting something)

The most common complaints i hear are that the pirates subplot took up too much time, clothing design being wack and generally disliking season 3. i agree with those, personally.

Again you and i probably think of different things when we hear "common fandom complaint" so feel free to tell me which ones i may have missed because I'm probably forgetting a lot

[with-love-from-hell]

5 Sides of Human

{Part sixteen}

Genre: Mixed

WC: ~4.8k

CW: Mammon is still a jerk, pining, suggestive, anxiety, depictions of anger and verbal aggression, depression, panic attacks, some angst and heavy drama lol, mentions of blood, FIGHT SCENE, allusion of OCD, allusion to past trauma, Storm has a stutter but I am not depicting it with written word consistently, prolly lots of typos lol, spoilers for season 1&2, I'm skipping over/changing some things I didn't like in the main story so it will be a bit different from canon!

Series Masterlist

©️ artwork commissioned by @vivi8bit ©️  

Mammon groaned as he slammed the door to his bedroom, shedding his clothes to the floor as he stumbled his way to bed. He didn’t bother turning the light on when he got home, feeling exhausted from all the running around he had done today. He plopped face first into his bed, knowing that tomorrow was going to be just as hellish with the stupid play and Simeon’s dictator-like directing. 

“It’s about time you got back.” Lucifer growled from the darkness, causing Mammon to nearly jump out of his skin.

He shrieked, scrambling to try to turn on a light and falling out of his bed in a mess of blankets in the process. Lucifer clicked his tongue in annoyance at his fumbling, having been already at the limit of his patience. 

Mammon breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the vague illuminated outline of Lucifer leaning against his pool table. The relief quickly turned into agitation though, and he chucked a pillow at his brother. “O-oi! Whatcha think yer doin’ hidin’ in the dark like some vampire!” 

“Why are you trying to upset Storm?” Lucifer ignored his question by asking his own, crossing his arms over his chest. 

The color drained from Mammon’s face as he gulped, surprised that his plan had been sniffed out so easily. “I-I dunno what yer talkin’ about.” 

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “Then what was that pathetic display at dinner all about?” 

“Uh...Well, I...” Mammon cleared his throat. “I ain’t trying to do anything! I just wanted to introduce you guys to my date. That’s it!” 

Lucifer scoffed. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Yeah, ‘cuz it’s true!” Mammon pouted, crossing his arms to match Lucifer’s stature. “If Storm is upset, that ain’t my problem!” 

“It most certainly is your problem.” Lucifer added, shifting his weight between his feet. “She mentioned you haven’t been treating her very nicely the past few days, so what happened?” 

Mammon scoffed, trying to hide the guilt he felt for clearly hurting her feelings. “It ain’t my fault she’s too sensitive.” 

“Mammon.” Lucifer raised his tone slightly, indicating his rise in anger at the comment. “I know for a fact that she has conversed with you before about her low self-esteem. You are doing and saying things to make her feel bad about herself, and I expect you to cease that at once and offer her an apology.” 

“I ain’t doin’ shit, Lucifer!” Mammon yelled back, but instantly regretted his tone when Lucifer’s eye began twitching. 

“Oh really, you’re doing nothing?” Lucifer shook his head. “That is the biggest pile of shit that I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. Did you really think no one would notice the fact that you kept staring at her while you talked about how hot your date was? Not to mention the attitude you copped with me the other day, all while she conveniently ‘wasn’t feeling well’? And why would she tell me you’ve been treating her poorly? It’s not like her to lie about something like that.”

Mammon looked away to the floor, making no further comment. The expression on his face displayed his guilt and shame freely, causing Lucifer to now worry about the extent of what he’s done to Storm. 

“What did you say to her?” Lucifer took a threatening step toward him. When Mammon didn’t reply, he felt a sense of injustice rising in his chest, fueling his anger at the way his brother was behaving. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Mammon.” 

Mammon shook his head, throwing his hands up in defeat, though was clearly unwilling to confront any wrong-doing he had participated in. “I...I...It’s just...the ball was comin up and she...I’m just tryin’ to show her what she’d be missin’ out on, y’know!?” 

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. “What are you talking about?” 

“It’s nothin!” Mammon shouted, folding his arms tight to his chest. “I got a date to the ball, and y’all just seem to be hikin’ up my jeans about it!” 

“I could give a shit less about your date.” Lucifer sighed in exasperation. “I care about Storm’s wellbeing.” 

“Psh, yeah, like when you nearly killed ‘er twice?” Mammon muttered under his breath. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothin’, nothin’. Anyways, I ain’t doin’ anything wrong! So why don’t ya go bother someone else so I can get some sleep.” Mammon threw the blankets over his head, blocking out Lucifer’s demands for him to admit what he had done. Finally having enough, Lucifer gave a frustrated sigh and stormed out of his room, slamming the door behind him. 

Mammon curled the blankets tighter around him, now stewing in the reality that he had indeed hurt Storm even more. Rather than make her jealous, he clearly seems to be hitting several of her insecurities. But even so, he wondered why she didn’t just tell Lucifer what he had said to her the day she rejected him. Even with him acting like a jackass- which he now understood was the way he was acting- she still felt the need to protect him. 

“God Dammit.” Mammon groaned into his pillow. The night would surely now be a sleepless one. 

The play mostly went on without a hitch, outside of Mammon screwing up a majority of his lines. The journey of the prince and the knight seemed to enrapture the student body, and enjoyed the first two acts of action and drama. They were on the edge of their seats for the finale. As the intermission end announcement came to signal their final scene, Storm took a deep breath, slowly strolling from back stage at Lucifer’s side, as if they were walking through a park, with Simeon’s voice echoing above them. 

“...And through the entire journey, it was only now that Sir Lucifer realized his true feelings...” From offstage, Storm eyed Simeon’s movements, signaling for Lucifer to start saying his lines. 

“The truth is...” Lucifer sighed, stopping and kneeling before her. “I feel as though all of these years I’ve been living a lie. To spend all this time searching for something I already had. I feel like a fool.” 

“But, Sir...The princess-” 

“Forget the princess.” He shook his head, gripping her hands tighter. “Marrying her would not make me happy. Quite the opposite, actually- especially in knowing I would be leaving you behind...I simply can’t go through with it. Forgive me now, for I must undo this arrangement. Even if it destroys the princess to have me falter now, I can’t go on knowing I would be giving up the one that I truly love...” Lucifer locked eyes with her once more, offering a sad smile. “And that is you, Storm.” 

Storm smiled back warmly, but it faltered when Lucifer stayed locked in place. That was his final line...He’s supposed to walk off stage and leave her in the garden, she thought. Her nerves rose as he continued to stand staring at her. 

After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke. “Before I take my leave, I must ask you- the one I love. Would you dance with me tonight?” 

Storm blinked, unsure of what to say. For a moment, she thought Simeon had given them extra lines and had forgotten to mention it to her, but with his meticulous attention to detail, she found it unlikely after considering it more. It wasn’t until a scream of “He said WHAT?” from Mammon offstage that she realized what he was doing.  She glanced behind Lucifer’s shoulder, seeing Mammon barely being held back by Beel and Vivi with pure hate in his eyes. 

“I can’t hope to marry you and live out our days- and I am uncertain of if there will ever come a time where I can. Abandoning my people would be a selfish dereliction of my duty. So I ask you, could I have this one night with you- one that we could hold dear to our hearts forever?” Lucifer glanced down at her expectantly, raising an eyebrow as if to indicate the second meaning behind his words that he somehow managed to fit into the dialogue of the play. 

 “Lucifer...” She swallowed, trying to tear her eyes away from Mammon. “I...I’d want nothing more.” 

Mammon nearly screeched, but Beel was able to cover his mouth just in time. Lucifer stepped forward, blocking her view of a squirming Mammon from sight. 

“Just the thought has my heart pounding with anticipation.” He smiled, lifting her hand and placing a chaste kiss to her palm. “Then I will see you tonight, my love.” 

With that, he makes his exit. Mammon appeared to have been dragged away, as the small area she could see offstage was now bare. Following the remainder of her directions from Simeon’s narration, she begins to pace around the stage. 

“Beset by uncertainty after hearing Lucifer confess his love for her, Storm wanders off to think, but ends up lost deep within the woods. It is then that Satan, fairy of the woods, appears. His proposition is such: take the dagger and kill the princess, then she will be granted her wish of marrying the prince.” 

“But know this, my dear Storm.” Satan hands her the fake knife. “If you do not use it to kill the princess, the power of the blade will still need to be satiated- you must use it to kill someone.” 

The curtain closes briefly and the final scene is set up by the stage hands. Storm can barely think to remember her lines with the butterflies in her stomach at the prospect of finally being asked to the ball by Lucifer. She felt bad for Mammon- after all, she did tell him she wasn’t going with anyone. But the excitement somewhat overshadowed her guilt, and as the curtains opened, she almost missed the musical cue to say her line.

"I remember the first day I met you...almost like it was yesterday."

"I remember too." Lucifer grabbed her hands, pulling her closer. "It really is hard to believe what we've gone through since then."

"The way you fixed your eyes on me...that noble yet sincere gaze." She stepped closer, placing it just above his heart. "There was no way to deny it- I fell for you, body and soul."

"Stop...tempt me no further. I feel I am losing control of myself- that I won't be able to hold back any longer if we continue."

Storm leaned in, their lips barely touching. “Then relinquish your control, Sir Lucifer.”

With the final line, their lips met. Lucifer cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking the skin softly under his thumb. Some in the crowd gasped, others “ooo’d” and “aww’d” in amusement, and some cheered loudly, whistling as the kiss went on a tad longer than anticipated. From off stage, Simeon was so absorbed in silently praising his own excellence in writing such a romantic scene with the admiration the two were receiving from the crowd that he failed to notice the extra time they took in basking in the intimacy. When Lucifer pulled away, Storm nearly missed the admiring look he held in his eyes.

“Storm’s heart felt full in that moment, and all she wanted was to be with the prince, but the guilt of having to be the hand that kills the princess weighed heavy as she leaves the ball, heading toward the princess’s chambers. She stops outside the door, beside herself with conflicting emotions. Ultimately, she knows she cannot bring harm to the princess...”

“This is supposed to be my path to happiness, but will I truly achieve true happiness through unjust murder?” She says allowed, falling to her knees with the dagger clutched to her chest. Despite this being merely a performance, something about the moment felt strangely familiar, and she felt her skin prickle with worry and discomfort. 

“Can’t bring yourself to kill her, Storm?” Lucifer approaches from offstage. 

“Lucifer, I-” 

“Hush now. Your altruism is what made me fall for you in the first place.” He took her by the hand, helping her to her feet. “I have made my decision to renounce my royal birth right to be with you. The love you’ve shown has changed me...and given me courage. To hell with my duties- I can’t live another day without you.” 

As she lifted the dagger, she forced her face to contort into an expression of pain. Her hands shook, pointing the dagger toward Lucifer “But the curse of the dagger-” 

Lucifer lifted his hand to hers, summoning a bright light. With that, she dropped the dagger, falling into his arms. “I’ve lifted the curse, and freed you of it’s hold. Now, come. Let us return home. Our future awaits.” 

“Never did the two imagine that such a destiny awaited them at the end of their long, long journey. They truly had proven the adage that ‘love conquers all’. Prince Lucifer chose to renounce his royal status in exchange for Storm’s love, and the two of them lived happily ever after. And so ends our story. On behalf of the student council officers, we hoped you enjoyed our original play, ‘With Me.’” 

“I can’t fuckin’ believe this!” Mammon roared, trudging down the corridor behind the auditorium. In his wake, he scratched the brick with his claws and sprawled his wings, knocking over statues and tearing down tapestries.  “He’s a snake in the grass! A Judas!” 

“Mammon, calm down.” Vivi shook her head, pissed that she was roped into having to deal with Mammon’s outburst because no one else would help Beel to control him. 

“Lucifer has every right to ask Storm out, just like the rest of us did.” Beel stated flatly, trying to get the unruly demon to see reason. 

“Besides, don’t you have a date already?” Vivi added, confused as to what his damage was with the situation. 

“I don’t care ‘bout her! I just paid her to come around to make Storm jealous.” He confessed blindly, not realizing what he was saying as the words tumbled out of his mouth. “I can’t believe she rejected me and then went n’ said yes to my own brother- ‘specially after sayin’ she didn’t want to hurt no ones feelin’s. I went through all this shit for nothin’!” 

Vivi gritted her teeth, getting fed up with how he was acting. “No one forced you to make an ass of yourself, Mammon. And I don’t take kindly to men who play around with women’s emotions or flaunt them like a piece of meat.” 

Mammon scoffed. “You’re startin’ to sound like Lucifer.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that fuckin’ nark.” She hissed back, stepping toe-to-toe with him. 

“I don’t need this shit,” Mammon snarled. “‘specially not from some dumb old human.” 

Beel darted his gaze between Mammon and Vivi, and then back to the door toward the stage. Based on the distant murmur of Storm’s voice, he could tell it wasn’t over yet, so he was on his own if a fight broke out. 

“Wanna run that by me again, you spineless little worm?” Vivi snarled, posting up on her tip-toes to be nose-to-nose with Mammon. 

“I said you’re a dumb human.” He repeated, scoffing when Vivi’s mouth twitched into a snarl and her fingers curled into fists. “What, you wanna take me on? I’ll wipe the floor with ya!” 

“I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass that you’ll be tasting rubber for a month!” 

“Fuck outta my face.” Mammon growled back, his eyes burning with rage. “Or I’ll-” 

Before he could get the words out, a fist flew straight into his jaw. He stumbled backwards, trying to maintain his balance and collect his bearings. He was just about to speak when another fist landed under his chin, and then immediately after there was a kick to his stomach. Mammon coughed and sputtered, putting considerable distance between him and Vivi in order to reorient himself. 

“Beelzebub I swear to god if you don’t let me go you’re next!” Vivi yelled, squirming against his hold. Beel held them against his chest tightly, trying to calm them down, but was actually doing quite the opposite- like when you try to hold an unruly cat to avoid getting them riled up. 

“W-what the f-fuck!” Mammon spat, trying to adjust his jaw to see if it was dislocated. “How the hell can you even throw a punch that hard?!” 

“Magic, Bitch.” She squirmed harder against Beel’s hold, trying to get him to loosen his grip. 

“Fuck you!” He shouted, finally standing and dusting himself off. 

Vivi hocked a loogie and spat it in his direction, nearly hitting him in the face. Mammon cringed as the lump of phlegm splattered onto his jacket that he had freshly pressed for the ball, causing rage to boil up in his chest. 

“Alright, that’s it.” He shed his coat, slamming it to the ground and putting up his fists. “Let ‘er go, Beel. She wants a fight, I’ll give ‘er a fight!” 

Beel shook his head, but Vivi quickly snaked out of his hold, bum-rushing Mammon with her fists raised high. 

Beel fumbled around, trying to figure out what to do as Mammon and Vivi immediately began an all-out brawl in the hallway behind the theater.  Blow after blow was attempted on each other. Somehow Vivi was able to dodge most of Mammon’s hits, but took low blows to get the upper hand on him- even going so far as to kick him square in the taint. His breaking point was the sound of bones breaking, finally stepping between them, kicking Mammon clear across the hall,  and hauling Vivi off in the opposite direction before Mammon could register what had happened. 

“You fight like a bitch!” Vivi spat back as Beel carted her off down the corridor, hoping against all odds that Mammon wouldn’t chase them. Her demands for him to put her down were ignored- knowing that he had to stall whatever was happening until Lucifer could handle whatever punishment he was going to dish out to the two of them. 

Luke ran to Storm as the actors made their way out of the auditorium to the receiving line, hugging her midsection tightly. His voice was strained between sobs. “Storm! oh my word, that was so beautiful! You did amazing!” 

Storm smiled, patting Luke on the head. “Thank you, but it certainly wasn’t all me. Everyone did so well.” 

“That’s a generous way to deflect the fact that your scenes blew ours out of the water.” Satan chuckled, giving Storm a side hug. “Don’t be so modest.” 

She blushed. “Oh, well thank you, I suppose”

“They’re right, Storm.” the crowd parted to make way for Diavolo to come through, Solomon and Barbatos in tow behind him. “You all didn’t even need me, so it seems!” 

Storm gave a small, nervous laugh. “Oh, I...uh-” 

“I thought you weren’t able to make it.” Simeon raised an eyebrow, appearing behind Storm so suddenly that she nearly jumped out of her skin. 

“I was able to catch the tail end.” Diavolo gave a boisterous laugh, but there was something threatening behind it. “I must say, I am quite jealous of Lucifer. That kiss scene was phenomenal.” 

Why did he have to say that?!  Storm’s face turned completely red as she tried to direct her eyes anywhere else but Diavolo’s. She had been secretly relieved when the casting switch happened and she was assigned to kiss Lucifer, as Diavolo’s intimidating stature and weird flirtatious attitude toward her was beginning to make her feel weird. 

“My lord, please restrain yourself.” Barbatos said curtly, earning a dismissive wave from the prince. 

“I suppose Lucifer was the most stunned by your performance though. I must say, I can’t imagine that having to act out such romance would cause anyone to fall in love, even if for a brief moment.” Diavolo winked at Storm, who stifled a groan and returned her gaze elsewhere.

“Oh barf.” Fern grumbled, rolling their eyes. “Look, Dia- I don’t think that greasy old fart would know romance if it bit him in the-” 

“Can someone please explain to me why this hallway is a disaster?!” 

Everyone’s attention snapped the opposite direction. Lucifer’s brows were furrowed as he tried to piece together how the broken statues, ripped tapestry, and scratch marks that littered the walls and floor came about. The crowd not part of the student council quickly vanished as Lucifer whipped around, clearly at his limit for anger. 

“Well, don’t look at us!” Sarah whined, pouting back at Lucifer. “Clearly it was one of the other students. We’ve been in the auditorium all night!” 

“Well, Not all of us...” Storm added, glancing around the crowd. “Where’s Mammon?” 

“And Vivi...” Heart added. “Didn’t they leave with Beel to make sure Mammon didn’t...” 

Lucifer’s eyes flashed with fury, clearly having been unaware of Mammon’s near disruption of the play during their intimate scene. “To make sure Mammon didn’t what?!” 

Everyone was quiet, until a huge crash was heard on the second floor, followed by shouting. 

“That sounds like Beel.” Belphie immediately bolted toward the staircases. 

Lucifer followed quickly behind, yelling at everyone else to stay put. Storm rubbed her forearm anxiously, hoping that Mammon hadn’t become to irate for her acceptance of Lucifer’s request. Despite that she knew he had a date to the ball, she felt guilty for going back on what she had told him, despite Beel’s encouragement. 

Within moments, Lucifer had a bruised, bloodied, and tattered Mammon by the collar of his shirt, dragging him down the stairs. Mammon’s yelps and begs for him to “just let him talk about what happened” were met with tense silence. Beel walked by Vivi’s side a little behind, trying to get her to stop calling mammon names and insulting his fighting style. 

Once at the bottom of the stairs, Lucifer immediately turned toward his office, instructing everyone else to head to the ball. He gave Storm an apologetic glance before disappearing around the corner with Mammon, out of sight. 

“Vivi, what the hell happened?!” Satan squawked, immediately pushing Beel aside and assessing their injured arm. 

Vivi jerked their arm away from him. “I’m fine. Jesus Christ calm your ass down.”

“Did Mammon attack you!?” Storm gasped as she watched Vivi casually re-set their arm into place and roll their shoulder to adjust. 

“Psh, he tried.” Vivi scoffed, turning her attention back to Satan. “Your brother fights like a toddler.” 

Storm ran both hands through her hair, trying to process what the hell was happening. Her heart began beating like a drum, feeling as if it would burst from her chest at any moment. Her breath became ragged and her vision blurred, and intrusive thoughts bombarding her with guilt plunged through her brain. Beel’s ears perked at the sound of her labored breath and he immediately pulled her aside away from the others’ concerned stares, trying to get her to focus on him. 

“Wait, so you seriously went head-to-head with Mammon?!” Fern smirked, approaching them excitedly. “Did you beat his ass? Was he as strong as he’s supposed to be?!” 

Vivi glanced briefly toward Satan, who stared at her with wide, intrigued eyes. She sighed and shrugged, trying to come off as nonchalant, but was clearly happy to brag about their fighting ability. Even now they barely felt the sting in their shoulder from where Mammon had dislocated her arm. “Meh, I learned how to beef myself up with magic, but brawn isn’t all you need to win a fight. You need strategy, and you need to know your opponents weak spots. Let’s just say Mammon learned it the hard way.” 

Satan smiled admiringly, and Vivi tried to hide the slight blush that developed on their cheeks. Fern, Asmo, and Levi burst into a fit of laughter, hardly able to believe their older brother was beaten up by a human. 

“I would hate to be him right about now.” Diavolo chuckled, nudging Barbatos in jest. Though Barbatos appeared to be just as displeased as Lucifer. 

“My lord, Vivi is an exchange student, might I remind you.” His tone was hushed as Vivi boasted about her fighting prowess. “And this isn’t the first fight they’ve gotten into since they’ve come here. Perhaps we should have a serious conversation about whether or not they are a fit for this progr-” 

“Wait, no!” Storm, pushed Beel aside gently, brushing her hand on Barbatos’ arm as she stood before him to plead for reconsideration. “I think it’s an important lesson for other demons who view humans as inferior to see one stand their ground. It will prevent them from taking advantage of us because they think we’re weak.” 

Barbatos glanced down at her hand, then narrowed his eyes at her. “Storm, I hardly think it’s your place to assert yourself into political matters in Devildom.” 

She dropped her hand, and looked to the floor. “I apologize.” 

“No need, Storm. I agree with you.” Diavolo smiled at her. “She will not be sent home, don’t fret.” 

Barbatos gave a hardened glare between Diavolo and Storm. He sighed, turning on his heel and urging Diavolo away with him. Diavolo quickly leaned down toward Storm, causing her anxiety to rise once more. 

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask. At the ball, would you care to join me for a dance? I’m saddened that I missed the opportunity to become closer to you during the play.” He gave a suave smirk, but Storm didn’t feel moved. 

“Oh...I...uh...” She stammered, trying to ease her nerves. “I am already going with Lucifer, so...” 

Diavolo waved Barbatos off as he pestered him to hurry along to the other points of the festival to make an appearance. “No need to worry. He wont be bothered over just one dance. I’ll be seeing you.” With another sly smirk, he spun on his heel and followed Barbatos down the hall. 

“Let go of me, will ya!” Mammon yelped as Lucifer tossed him to the floor near the hearth roughly. He rubbed the spot where his shoulder collided with the ground, pissed that Lucifer was being so rough with him. In all actuality, Mammon was still beyond hurt that, in the way he saw it, Lucifer snuck in and asked Storm to the dance when he obviously had seen Mammon was upset by her rejection. The way he talked about her the other night now made so much sense. Clearly he has had the hots for her the entire time, and he was just bein’ sneaky about it, he thought, gritting his teeth as the anger began simmering up once more. 

“Seriously? Picking a fight with one of the exchange students.” Lucifer growled, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “What the hell is the matter with you? First this charade you had with Storm, and now this?!” 

“Don’t ya dare even mention her name!” Mammon snapped back, quickly standing and approaching Lucifer. He poked him in the chest hard, clearly struggling to keep himself together with how angry he was. “Ya got some nerve slidin’ in like that when ya knew I liked her!” 

“Mammon what in Diavolo’s name are you talking about!?”

“Last night! I told ya I wanted to go to the ball with her and then ya pull this shit. Some big brother you are!” 

“You absolutely did not tell me that.” Lucifer sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, maybe if you wanted to go with her, you should have asked her.” 

“I did! And...” Mammon trailed off, dropping his gaze to the floor. 

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “She said no?” 

Mammon shook his head, anger coming back up to mask his sadness. “It don’t matter what she said! I was tryna win her favor and ya messed it all up!”

“Mammon, will you please-” 

“No! Just...shut up!” Mammon pushed Lucifer aside, stomping toward his office door. “This ain’t over. I’ll never forgive ya for this. And don’t bother talkin’ to me ever again, ya prick!” 

With that, Mammon slammed the door behind him, leaving Lucifer in a state of confusion and frustration. He stormed down the hall toward the bathroom, locking himself inside and sliding down to the floor. Mammon pressed his head in his hands. His breath shuddered as he finally allowed himself the release his body truly wanted. 

Why didn’t she love him back?

[thedailybullshit]

Finally watching Season 2 of Good Omens

I love Crowley dearly (even tho he’s not Crowley yet)

YOOOOO THEY MET BEFORE THE BEGINNING???? How much do either of them remember of each other?

The heartbreak on his face when he heard his universe was only meant to exist for 6000 years 😭

THE FUCKEN MIRROR OF THE SEASON 1 OPENING BUT IT’S CROWLEY PUTTING HIS WING OVER AZIRAPHALE IM PHYSICALLY UNWELL

Aziraphale’s so sweet w/ Maggie

Nooooo I didn’t want to believe all the posts about Crowley & Aziraphale not talking, I hate it

WHAT HAPPENED TO THEIR OWN SIDE

I’ve only had Nina for about 30 seconds but if anything happened to her I’ll kill everyone in the writer’s room and then myself

Who’s Michael on the phone with 👀

Interested to know why Shax is an ally to Crowley

Fly in the box is definitely connected to Beelzebub, I’m calling it

Crowley: I don’t talk to Aziraphale anymore

Also Crowley: *picks up as soon as Aziraphale calls & agrees to meet somewhere w/ no questions*

Hiiiiiii Muriel explain the Job box thing please

Please Crowley immediately offering to help w/ whatever’s making Aziraphale anxious I’m 😭😭😭

I love Maggie bringing Nina a record by someone who shares her name but I hate finding out Nina has a partner I was routing for them (I can still route for them but still)

Not the “he tried to kill you of course I don’t trust him” I’M NOT GOING TO MAKE IT THROUGH AM I

“I thought we carved it out for ourselves” “SO DID I” I’m going to throw up this is not what I wanted for them I hate it it’s so good

“I want you to help me!” They can’t do this to me

ISTG not Maggie & Nina locked in the same space

Michael stop being mean to Muriel I will come up there & fight you

“A material object? In heaven? That’s impossible.” Uriel you’re standing on a floor by a desk someone is sitting in a chair at.

Oh it’s a matchbox

I KNEW THE FLIES WERE BEELZEBUB

Right as I thought “Did they recast Beelzebub?” Crowley says “Is that a new face?” I sure do love when media actually accounts for an audience reaction

Right so who’s in charge of this Book of Life bc if it’s Gabriel then I think I found our loophole

Soooo seems like Nina’s in a textbook abusive relationship, so I can indeed still root for her & Maggie

“I’m Crowley and I was wrong, I’m singing the Crowley-Wrong-Song, I shouldn’t have taken that chance, now here’s my remorseful dance”

Guys maybe you’d have less a chance of being found out if you didn’t openly discuss your plans against Heaven & Hell in front of the missing Archangel they’re both after? Just a thought?

So I’d previously assumed that in the Before Aziraphale was a relatively low ranking Angel while Crowley was higher ranked, but based on the 1st scene in which Crowley was unaware of the Ineffable Plan & the last scene in which Aziraphale performed HALF A MIRACLE I’m guessing the opposite is true, I’m hoping we’re gonna learn more about the almighty hierarchy as the show goes on.

That was episode 1, so good to have the Ineffable couple back, now to contemplate dinner as I watch episode 2.

[captainaikus]

BELLE LOVE YOURE BACK!!!!!!!!! I've missed you so much 😭😭😭!!!! I'm so sorry to hear that you're sick though 😖😖. That seriously sucks, but I hope you feel better soon!!! Also I have a confession to make. I know I said I was working on blue lock drabbles. But like. The TR season 2 opening just dropped. I am not the same woman I was 1 hour ago. Episode 13 of bllk will probably kick-start my inspiration for the writing again (hopefully) but I'm hitting a block atm and all I can think abt is TR right now 💀💀. I have actually been so productive this winter break that it's insane. Cleaning, cooking, organizing, writing, etc. It's hard to believe I was the same person as last year tbh. I'm a hoarder and a sentimental sap so I never throw anything away 💀🥲. BUT I got rid of so much unnecessary stuff yesterday and I'm actually kind of proud of myself. I've been meaning to go to the gym again, but finding the motivation is hard, especially in the early morning when I'm drowsy and tired. I know it's not an excuse and I plan on going to bed early tomorrow so I can wake up without feeling tired 😤😤. Wish me luck 🥹🤞🏼!!! Also also. I have currently been listening to the new opening on loop since I heard it came out don't judge me and I'm pretty sure I have the entire visuals and lyrics matched up inside my head atp where I can hear it and know which character is on screen 💀💀💀. It's the same with the season 1 episodes again no judging. Yes I'm normal abt this 😌😌. Anyways ✨. Idk if you've seen my posts, but I have been freaking out abt the new opening since this morning adjkhgggkjggfdhjhg. I am so excited about next week. You are gonna be sick of me once the first episode drops I'm calling it now 😭😭💀. Anyways onto the actual important stuff. How was your vacation and holiday?? Good I hope?? How's the move to a03 coming along?? Again, I hope you feel better soon (Oliver sends his love from Italy ❤️❤️❤️)!!! Make sure not to overwork yourself and take care of yourself and rest okay love?? I really have missed you tho 🥹❤️. *sending all the virtual hugs and blankets and warm soup to you*

- ✨ anon

YES! I have returned !! I missed you too T.T , ahh its good to be back. ps. not only have i managed to fall sick... I uh... I twisted my ankle last night when I was celebrating new years. There was so much that happened last night, the dancing, hanging out with my roommates and last but not least. there were a lot of pretty boys at the club; but honestly, they were strutting around the place like some proud peacock and were intimidated by my height (yeah i was the tallest one last night with my three inched heels) and my calves are killing me rn; but totally worth it ✨ I SAW THE NEW TR OPENING! Pretty sure the fans are gonna crash the website; i wouldn't be surprised honestly- I am so looking forward to the new eps !! I read the latest chapter of bllk and... *sobbing cause no Oliver* Anyway, getting back to Tr; I am excited for the new season !! And i wanna see more of bonten and the shiba brothers arc, now i'm thinking if they're gonna introduce Nahoya and the whole baby of the family thing (cause the way i cooed when I was reading the manga) Girl. I saw you posted about Chainsawman !! And during vacay, we were passing by a bookstore... I uh... I ended up buying vol 4 with Aki as the cover. (i love it sm and i'm gonna treasure it even if I haven't reached that part yet) - the look i got cause the amount of profanities in there on opening one of the pages 😭 Vacay was fun, spent some time in the countryside and got a hold of new experiences that inspired me to re-write ruined rome (a project that i had started for Rin earlier on my blog) there was a cute guy on the bus who was watching rising shield hero i think? and i was busy watching one punch man cause i didn't get time to finish it, *sad cause i shoulda asked for his @ but i was really shy to talk to him and kinda disoriented cause of no sleep*

As for the move to ao3; I released the new chapter of Ocean hues and I'm working on a spotify playlist that you guys can play it when you read the series; hopefully you guys will enjoy it <3 speaking a bit and giving spoilers for the series; i included some of my dreams with Oliver (yes i am a simp and idc) And i have my oneshots saved in my draft, that will be getting posted as well... ao3 is getting fun for me cause i figured a way on using dividers and pictures. Not to mention even if ao3 does seem complicated its actually pretty easy to get by and i'm getting obsessed with alice in borderland- THE NEW SEASON IS FINALLY OUT! so i'm gonna be completing that and stone ocean's new eps (yes me likes JJBA. *likes jonathan, joseph and Jotaro*) And no bb ♡ i like seeing your rants on my dash and also. I. squealed at your Oliver drabble. Like i was walking around, stood for coffee before my flight at some 1 o clock in the morning and i saw this. And my gah- the way i was staring into my phone, I had a jolly good christmas and an early new year 😭 *busy working on a list of yandere wips and thinking the title to give my work*

*sending back hugs and wuv along with Bachira*

[troidatoi]

Day 7 - 9/21/2023

I think I've literally cried every day this month. I always get so emotional when September comes and I don't know if it's cause of the transition to Fall and I already know my seasonal depression is going to skyrocket. My health anxiety is through the roof that I can't stop thinking about it and crying about it. Every little thing just triggers me and I start crying and and it's just tears on tears on tears. I just want to feel better so bad. I went to the gastro doctor again to test for SIBO and I don't have it. It's a relief that I don't but I still don't know what's going on with my body and the uncertainty makes me to k*ll myself. Sometimes I think I have the C word. (I know I don't.) It also feels like there's a lot of pressure in my head like there's something wrong with my brain. I just want to stop thinking like this but I can't. I so badly want something good to happen to me and I know it will. I want to be able to eat without fear, I want to not bloat anymore and not feel inflamed. I want to fit into my clothes again. I want to be able to enjoy life. (I'm trying my best.) Food still isn't digesting properly and I know it will heal sometime soon. I just feel like I'm doing everything I can but nothing is working. This is all started when I did my tummy tuck (which I don't regret at all) but if I knew my digesting system was going to be like this after then I don't know if I made the right move. I just wanted to look and feel fit and skinny for the first time in my life and I felt like I ruined it. :( I know I'll go back to my ideal weight soon and I'm doing the best I can but I am spending so much money on doctors and supplements and medication. I just wish I could get tested for everything and not have to worry about the money. My gastro doctor doesn't want me to do more testing because he doesn't want to expose me to radiation and I just laughed but I really want him to do it! Test me! I need to figure this out! I wish I took care of my body better. I keep apologizing to my body but also telling her that I love her and thank her for how strong she is. I don't want my body to keep going through this and I know I won't feel this way forever but I just want to heal so bad and it just feels never ending. This whole month has been ass so far. LOL. Like I'm trying to be positive but sometimes I just want to fucking scream and yell and throw something and punch something because of everything that's happened so far this month. Like you know where everything is going wrong and you feel like you can't watch a break and you just want to breathe but life decided to throw hands?! Yeah, this was all this fucking month.

The job search has also been making me extremely depressed like these companies are pissing me the fawk off with how we need to apply for the job and taking forever to get back to us. I had an interview with a certain company in June. Still haven't heard anything back. I even emailed the recruiter last month and he said they haven't heard anything yet. I thought the interview went well but it shouldn't take this long to get back to someone. I rather have them tell me I didn't get it then just get ghosted like this. (I am hoping I'm not getting ghosted. LOL) Don't even talk to me about salary because these companies want you to do the work of 2-3 people for a low ass salary like be fucking for real. I applied to two jobs yesterday and it was just so tedious although I'm hoping to get a call back from one of them just because I think it'd be cool to work there. :) Also, I applied to MGM and they got back to me the next day and set up an interview and everything. The manager texts me and she said servers are down and I was like okay, cool shit happens. I just thought the power shut off but nope. I found out later that week that they got hacked so everything got leaked and I was like HAHAHAHAHA, maybe the Universe doesn't want me to work there? I don't know man, I don't know whether to laugh or cry when it comes shit like this. Like I'm just asking to make money so I can pay back my parents and pay off my debt. I don't even want to be rich. Just financially stable enough to afford my wants and needs and even move out!! This whole month has just been so terrible. I want to believe that something good will happen you know? I'm claiming it though even if I need to be delusional about it.

I for some reason think about death a lot like it consumes me to the point where I just start crying out of nowhere. I remember even when I was a kid I asked my mom why do we die and she couldn't give me a straight answer. I don't know why I was little and asking questions about death. I remember crying in class when I was in 4th grade thinking about death for some reason. Like the thought just washed over me when I thought about it. I always thought (I still do) that death is so fucking tragic and living an old age is a privilege. Aging is a beautiful thing. (I don't know why the fuck society makes it seem so bad.) I like the idea of celebrating your life (which is probably why I love birthdays so much). Because it means that you're still here and shouldn't we celebrate the fact that you're still here? You made it this far. I thought about my death today like fucking a lot which is why I was crying a lot. Like would I be okay dying right now? I even thought what I would write to my family and friends if I ended up dying like right now. LMAO. Why am I like this? I would say I'd live a good life so far, a lot of ups and downs of course. A lot of regrets but not a lot of regrets. I've always done things that made me happy, my social life is amazing, and I have family and friends who love me.

My favorite artist right now La Roux knows who I am!!! The only thing that is keeping me going right now is that I need to meet her and see her in concert. LOL. It's funny cause she sent me encouraging messages and I didn't even think she would reply back to me. She told me to stay strong and I was like yeah okay!!! Let's do it not only for me but for her too. lmaooo. I don't know why her message affected me so much when my family and friends told me the same fucking thing but I was still fucking sad and mad about everything. I really do love her and her music so much. The way I gush over her is crazy. LOL. I don't want to sound obsessed but she's just so effortlessly cool. I really want to be her when I grow up. She's such a nice person and I know I shouldn't idolize celebrities blah blah blah but I have loved every song and every project she's done that I bought both her albums and vinyls and hung them on my wall which I took a picture of and showed her and she said she loved it like yeah I hope she knows how much I love her. I'm telling myself I can't die without meeting her and seeing her live which is one of the things that's keeping me going. She gives it her all every performance. I know I'm going to meet her. LOL. If I met Kobe, then I'm definitely going to meet her one way or another. I'm manifesting that shit right now and I'm going to make it happen. I just love her so much like the first time she messaged me back, I cried. lmfaooo. I cry so much, someone should do a study on me. A conversation and hug from her would heal me in so many ways and we were even born in the same month!! And she speaks so intelligently and articulates so well. I think she's so fucking smart. She says it like it is and she's not scared to disagree with people and things. LOL. I remember everyone telling me that I was going to meet Kobe in high school and I kept having dreams where I met Kobe and tried to get a picture with him but my phone wouldn't work and I would always think like fuck, if I met him and this shit happened, I would cry. Lo and behold, a few years later I met him at his book signing at The Grove and it was worth it. The worker who took my picture did an amazing job taking my pictures with him and you can see how star struck I was to meet him. He was so nice and asked me if I wanted a hug and I was like yes!! I miss him everyday and I hope him and Gigi are well. And I hope when I meet La Roux, she doesn't think I'm weird or annoying as I know she has anxiety. Like I said I'd love a hug, a convo and picture (mirror selfie would be so amazing, lmao) with her. <3 It's going to happen! I just need to take care of myself first (which I'm fucking doing even if I have to fucking scream and bitch and moan about it until I get to a place where I feel better and my health is in a better place!)

Okay there was like a lot of negativity in this post because sometimes a bitch needs to fucking vent and let some shit off her chest (besides talking about my love for Kobe and La Roux) but I know they would want me to keep going despite of it all. The two celebrities who really did change my life for the better and I hope they know how much of a positive impact they've had on me. I just have to believe that my body is going to heal while also putting in the work to help it heal. I also have to believe that someone is going to hire me at the end of the month and that I'm going to pay off my debt. I need to give myself more credit for surviving all of this. I know something great is coming my way and money is going to flow towards me. I'm going to have good health and eat what I want again without pain. I am also going to Life is Beautiful tomorrow which should be nice!! I'm going with John and it's probably something I need. Probably have a heart to heart with John and cry over everything with him. I love concerts so much. I love music so much! I think it'd be nice to just get out of the house and not stare at my screen and wallow in my thoughts. lmfao. I'm just trying to appreciate and be happy with where I am now and hopefully good things follow me for it. I need to have faith even if it feels hopeless right now. Stay strong, Jane. You didn't come this far to come this far. You are protected, guided, and loved. Everything always works out for you! Believe it! Manifest it! Claim it! Please remember this on the days where you feel like everything is going wrong. I love you so much.

[alex51324]

Dead dove, do not eat

Here’s an idea for an Izzy fic that I’m not writing, because it is super-fucked up and being in the headspace necessary to write it, for long enough to write, it would be Bad For Me, but have been thinking about a lot.  

It’s season 2 (or post-season 2, whatever); Ed and Stede have made up and begun their happily ever after, and Ed goes to Izzy and is like, “You’re miserable on this ship, and we’re toxic for each other/have grown apart, so here, take the Queen Anne and the Blackbeard name and do your own thing.  I wish you well, & if we bump into each other again we should have a drink, but parting ways is obviously best for both of us.”

It’s a beautiful, heartfelt speech, probably incorporating some material about how Ed understands how Izzy feels about him, and he appreciates it even though he doesn’t feel the same way, and yeah, maybe he sometimes played off of Izzy’s feelings to get him to do stuff, which was a dick move of him, but he does genuinely value Izzy’s devotion for him, however, Izzy will be a lot happier if he can find somebody to give all that to who actually feels it back.  

And then Izzy is just, like, “No.”  

Ed:  “What?”

Izzy:  “No.  You promised that if I was loyal to you, I would be your First Mate forever, and forever ain’t up yet.  I’m not going anywhere.  Fuck the Queen Anne, fuck Blackbeard, fuck Bonnet; if you want me to leave your side, you’ll have to kill me.

Ed:  Izzy, come on, man. You’re being weird.

Izzy:  You fucking promised!  

And then he pulls the receipts on exactly when Ed made this promise and what they said, and Ed is like, OK, yeah, I remember that interaction, but.  Dude.  Have you ever heard of hyperbole?  

Izzy is losing his shit because Ed is saying that this solemn vow that he’s structured his entire life around didn’t mean anything, and he’s just yelling about how Ed promised and he (Izzy) swore an oath and Ed can’t just throw that away.

By now the whole crew has shown up to gawk, because Izzy is making a huge scene, and then someone (like 90% sure it’s Buttons) says, “Oh, Captain, I see what’s happened here.  When a (mythological creature I’d have to research or make up) makes an oath of loyalty to a mortal man, they are bound forever, for the (creature) gains a human soul and will accompany the mortal to his eternal destination.”

(There’s a lot more behind the cut; please be aware that it gets much more fucked up.  It’s theoretically possible that a story could go in a fluffy direction from here, but this is not that story.)

Ed:  Izzy isn’t a (creature).  (lengthy pause, turns to Izzy.)  Are you?

Izzy:  (says absolutely nothing)

Buttons:  If ye spurn him, Captain, he’ll have no choice but to seek you for the rest of his days.  He’s no life of his own, ye ken, now you’ve given him a soul. 

Izzy:  He’s right.  If you leave me somewhere, I’ll come after you. If you beat me and abandon me, I’ll come after you as soon as I have the strength to stand.  If you cut off my legs, I’ll crawl.  If you cut off all of my limbs, I’ll drag myself along with my tongue. 

Ed:  Mate, do you hear how unhinged you sound?

Izzy:  If you want to get rid of me, you’ll have to kill me.  With your own hands.

Buttons:  Aye, but Cap’n, if you do that, the soul you granted him will perish as well--and, some say, your own along with it.

Ed:  Izzy, you are a human being.  (he looks to Izzy for either conformation or contradiction, and gets neither)  I hear you saying that you don’t want to leave, but you’ll be fine.  Stop being--whatever this is.  It’s honestly gross and kind of scary. 

And Izzy is like, OK, fine, if you don’t want me here that badly, kill me.  If you don’t kill me, I belong here.  Those are the options that exist.  Pick one.  

There is a lengthy stalemate over this, lasting several chapters.  In the somewhat-less-fucked-up version, they keep leaving Izzy places (ports, random islands, dinghies in the middle of the ocean, etc.) in various ways (drunk, drugged, tied up, arrested, etc.) and he keeps coming back.  In the even-more-fucked-up version, Ed tries increasingly extreme measures to make “with him” a place that Izzy doesn’t want to be, ending up with outright torture. 

The longer it goes on, the more of the crew become convinced that Buttons’s explanation for the situation has to be right, for Izzy not to have left.  (In the more-fucked-up version, they aren’t fully aware of exactly what Ed’s doing, but they know it’s pretty bad.)  Some of them are collecting lore about (whatever type of creature they’ve decided Izzy is), and keep offering Ed suggestions for how to manage him that is this increasingly obvious and frankly disgusting cruelty.  The situation is obviously uncomfortable; no one want their ex hanging around being creepy while they’re setting up housekeeping with their new partner, but Ed was the one who made a soul-pact with a (whatever); and Izzy can’t help being one.  

And here’s the really fucked up part:  Eventually, it works.  Izzy wins. 

Ed un-chains him from the torture wall and treats his wounds and gives him something to eat and his clothes back, and once Izzy’s reasonably alert, he’s like, “Iz, I really, really, really need you to understand that none of this was a test; I genuinely and sincerely think that you could be happy if you just left and got over me, and I do not believe the soul-pact-thing, because it’s crazy.  But.  I can’t keep doing this.  And I can’t kill you, so if there’s nothing I can do to persuade you to leave, the only option left is to keep you here and try to love you.”  

And then he does.  (I told you it was fucked up.)  Ed puts as much effort into nursing Izzy back to health as he did to driving him away, and Izzy is slowly tamed from being a snarling, beaten, half-starved junkyard dog chained to the wall (which he always was, even before Ed actually chained him to the wall) into a cherished lap-dog.  He eats out of Ed’s hands, and sleeps curled up at the foot of Ed’s side of the bed.  He’s very clearly Ed’s, but he learns accept treats and pets from Stede, too.  Gradually, he’s allowed to take back some of his old duties, and he’s happy.  

The crew can see it: he’s calm, he’s pleasant to them, he’s goopily affectionate with Ed.  Buttons and the others who have appointed themselves experts on (whatever they think Izzy is) point out that this is what you’d expect from a (whatever) that is being properly cared for, and pretty much proves that he’s a (whatever).

(Maybe one member of the crew has heard of Ye Olde Stockholm Syndrome, and tries to say so, but no one pays much attention.)

And--this is important--the story includes equal amounts of evidence that Izzy actually is a (whatever) versus that he is a human being with severe mental health problems.  Is it a fairy tale with a happy ending for mythological!creature Izzy, who is finally getting what he needs, or a tragedy of two co-dependency gone metastatic, in which two people lock themselves into an ever-tightening spiral of mutual abuse, until they both, miraculously, crack in exactly the right way to decide they like it?  

We never find out.  We never get the mental closure of knowing whether what we just read was a gourmet meal or a bag of rotting trash from the dumpster.  Is our enjoyment of the torture scenes retroactively sanitized by them being necessary-but-unpleasant steps on the path to redemption, or are we monsters for fapping to two men’s descent into madness?  No one can say*.  

(*Except, of course, for how it’s fictional either way, so there isn’t any genuine moral weight to enjoying it even if it is a thing that would be horrible-if-real.)

[writingonsaturn]

Better Unsaid

a/n okay this has been all over the place!! it was originally going to be a blurb and darker and closer to smutty (so keep your eyes out for that??? lol), but then I made it softer and the concept got away from me and it got soooo much longer than expected lmao and i still dont love where it ended so maybe part 2?? i have the idea i just dont know lol 

summary: Reader is a princess and Anakin has been her guard during the most public season for the past two years (not the most logical thing but just go with it lol, it gets explained better in the fic) and after a near death experience the two are conveniently forced into a....

ONE BED TROPE ONE BED TROPE *cough cough* ONE BED TROPE WITH ONE PERSON HAVING TO WAKE UP THE OTHER BC THEYRE HAVING A NIGHTMARE,, :)))))))

  --

His smugness is the only thing about him I can consider ‘ugly’. And because I am so desperate to not have feeling for Anakin, the Jedi who has been assigned to protect me through coronation season (which lasts for most of winter), for the last two coronation seasons, I hold onto my distaste for that side of him. Which is why I suppress my laugh as he waits for my reaction with that confident smile. 

“Come on, that was funny.” 

Rolling my eyes, I let myself sit on my bed. I can’t tell if he’s actually funny or if my evening has been so boring that his sense of humor has started to become appealing to me due to comparison. In short, the suitor I was forced to spend an entire evening with lacked personality so much I’m starting to find Anakin funny.

“You’re much more entertaining than this evening’s suitor.” 

Anakin’s expression shifts slightly, his assured grin dropping slightly. “Another miss?” 

“You have no idea.” I relax slightly, taking a moment to be glad that I completed my father’s request and now I can just enjoy the time I have with Anakin. “I know my father’s desperate to make sure my marriage is useful for our people and that he worries about this selection process because he always thought my mother would be here to help, but sometimes I wish he wouldn’t rush it so much. It feels like all he wants me for is to marry me off in exchange of finance or weaponry or something diplomatic.” 

“You’re more than that.” His response is so soft I think I might have missed it if I needed it less. I curse myself for feeling so validated by him. His words shouldn’t mean anything to me. After all, he could easily just be saying that because agreeing with my father will just make me more unpleasant to be around. 

I smile politely while avoiding his eyes. I keep my hands on either side of me, fighting the urge to fidget. “Thank you, Anakin.” My words sound weak in my own ears, so I’m sure he notices my shift in mood. “I’m tired today, I think I’m going to go to bed early.” Normally, I’d be able to shrug off these kinds of things, but the beginning of Coronation Season makes me irritable. The anniversary of my mother’s death hits me harder each year. 

“Y/n.” My name comes out so velvety I can’t find it in myself to interrupt him. “You are more than someone meant to be used as some kind of royal currency, and I mean that as more than just a...friend.” 

I let his last word linger. We’ve tried so many titles that never seem to fit right. He’s the chosen one, one of the most powerful Jedi to exist, and the Jedi assigned to protect me each Coronation Season because that’s when my mother was assassinated. He’s my guard, but we’ve spent too many nights laughing together and talking about everything and anything. And I guess now he’s my friend, even though sometimes when he looks at me in a certain way or sits too close to me or reaches for my hand to guide me somewhere I can’t breathe right. 

“Anakin, you know I love when you’re here, even though sometimes you drive me insane. And I appreciate your kindness, but your words can’t change the truth. That’s how my father sees me and he’s not exactly wrong. I’m not a son, I haven’t been raised to lead an army or lead much, and--” 

“I’ve seen you in meeting after meeting, convention after convention. I’ve witnessed the way you handle real problems and I know how you care about your people. You’d make a great leader, you don’t need a husband to be valuable.” 

My chest swells, feelings I never let myself think about mixing with thoughts of Anakin that I’ve spent so long trying to avoid. “That settles it, you’re my favorite person.” 

He grins, the look warm enough to melt the odd lump in my throat. I fight down a smile as he steps forward. “And I wasn’t before?” 

“I take it back--your head’s big enough without the additional praise.” 

Rolling my eyes, I lean back slightly in order to recreate the distance he so easily destroyed. “And I thought you had finally warmed up to me, princess.” 

The use of my title makes me skeptical. The last time Anakin used it was when he was trying to ease me so that I’d walk around the palace garden so he had an excuse to do the same. It was beyond late and I was half asleep, but he had os much energy he was desperate and just needed to do one more thing. I felt bad that his schedule revolved so heavily around mine (and when he softens his eyes and says please, I’m left incapable of saying the word ‘no’) so I agreed. 

“What do you want?” 

Anakin dramatically clutches a hand over his heart. He throws his head back slightly as if he’s just taken a fatal blow. “When did you turn so cynical? I’ve been back for three days and I’m starting to believe you’re a different person now.” 

Yeah...he’s definitely getting ready to ask for something that’s more trouble than it’s worth. Then again, everything with him seems to be worth it in some capacity. Even if it’s just that one smile he gets when he’s truly content and doesn’t think anyone’s looking. 

“Mhm,” I mumble, still fighting a grin, “so you’re not going to ask me anything?” 

His lips part slightly as he exhales. I watch the way his eyes narrow at my victorious expression. “I don’t have anything to ask of you, but I do have a small request. A request so small you won’t have to do anything but say yes.”

Suspicious. Too easy. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“You just said I was your favorite person. Remember that.” 

I’m too tired for his coyness. I’d rather him make his ridiculous request now so that I can be in bed within the hour. Though I can’t pretend I don’t normally feel better after letting him drag me along on whatever ‘adventure’ he just needed to complete while also not letting me out of his sight. I used to tell him that I wouldn’t tell anyone if I wasn’t under supervision for an hour or two a day, but he dismissed the idea immediately. That’s been the cornerstone of everything. 

“What is it?” 

He sighs once, tilting his head slightly. The way his eyes soften tells me he’s already won at least half the battle. “They still haven’t caught the attempted--” Anakin pauses, something behind his eyes darkening. I know what he’s remembering. Last night, an assassin had gotten closer than they ever had. I had almost been shot in the garden, Anakin had barely pushed me to the ground in time. A fact he’s been beating himself up for since, especially considering that no one has been able to find my attempted killer yet. “They were so close to you. They were within palace limits and they disappeared like they never existed. Who’s to say they don’t work here and are waiting for the next moment you’re exposed? Who’s to say they aren’t here tonight, waiting for me to retire for the night?” 

I didn’t realize how my near death experience had been so personal to him. He, like everyone else, was beyond frantic after it happened. But my father put an end to verbal worry before it could truly begin. He said the best thing we could do was act like everything was fine as the assailant was searched for. Anakin hadn’t been particularly cheery after my father instructed the guards to focus their search on known enemies instead of prioritizing venting the staff closest to me. I comforted him as best as I could, but he didn’t feel like speaking about it and I had to worry about the suitor meeting my father wouldn’t let me cancel. 

“Anakin, you’re right next door to me.” I have to fight the urge to reach for him. “I was fine because of you, and I will be fine because of you.” 

He sighs once, his expression not easing. “And if the person is silent? The attacker could easily work in the palace, but no one wanted to direct the search inwards.” His words are more strained than I’ve ever heard them be. “I think it’d be smart for me to stay in here. I know you’ve refused having a guard stay in your room or outside your door, but...” Anakin sighs. “Your safety would be more assured.” 

Him staying in my room? The only line I’ve ever been allowed to draw, and I’m actually considering letting that go. If he seemed even slightly less sad, I wouldn’t even consider it. It’s not a good idea. I’m already too attached to him. “Anakin--” 

“I’d feel more assured.” 

Damn him. Stupid, extremely sweet Anakin who makes saying no to him impossible. I stretch my arm forward, letting my hand squeezes his forearm gently. “There’s no reason to not feel assured.” He doesn’t ease, the cloudiness behind his eyes remains stubborn. “You’re still worried.” No reaction, the haze that’s taken him isn’t letting go. “Fine--but tell no one or my father is going to take to posting guards at my door every night.” 

...I guess there are worse ways to spend a night. Which is kind of a problem since I’m trying to...enjoy Anakin less. Ugh, I even sound dumb in my head. “I promise, princess.” 

Ugh, he’s adorable. “You’re intolerable.” I stand from he foot of my bed and pull back the covers on my bed. He doesn’t reply, something dark still playing for him. I watch him move to face the door. Wait--is he doing what I think he’s doing? “No, you’re not going to stand there all night. You need sleep.” He has the audacity to give me an annoyed look. “I already didn’t want to do this so now you have to listen to my conditions.” 

He raises an eyebrow, his lips pressing together oddly. He’s trying to gauge something from my expression, perhaps he’s looking for buttons to press to get his way. I guess I look as stubborn as I feel because instead of arguing he just sits on the floor. What? I watch him cautiously, trying to figure out if this is some weird argument trick. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What you asked.”

And just like that I’ve put myself in a position that I will no doubt regret terribly the second common sense returns to me. There’s no way to deny that Anakin and I are closer than we probably should be. We’ve felt like friends first since the day we first met. I can’t think of any reason to not offer to let him sleep in my bed except those stupid budding feelings I refuse to label. 

It’s not like I actually like him. I can’t--I’m going to be married to some nobleman and he’s prohibited from ever forming attachments. I’m not even sure if we’re allowed to be friends. Having actual feelings for him would be so, so pointless. It would just lead to heartache and the ruining of the one genuine relationship I have. I’m just a tiny bit confused right now because he’s objectively really attractive and he’s always there for me. Always there to make a joke after a particularly rough meeting. Always there to offer me a supportive smile. Always there to humble me when I teeter on acting like my father. 

Anyone’s heart would flutter at that, so it doesn’t mean anything. And if it does, I need to squash any budding feelings now before I mess things up. Which is why I should keep him at arm’s length until I get it together. But is that fair to him? And what if doing that is making things worse? What if it’s just reinforcing the idea of having feelings? 

This is ridiculous. I’m going to get over this if it kills me. It’s just a bed and it’s only sleeping. I’m meant to be able to lead an entire union and I can’t sleep next to someone and act normal?” “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.” 

The second the words leave my mouth I regret it all. What’s wrong with me? Did I seriously think I’d be okay?

I hear his soft exhale, “I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places than on your marble floor.” 

His voice sounds so weighted I can’t help but feel bad for not noticing that he’s still bothered. Whether he’s upset about his near miss or the fact that my father didn’t take his advice, I don’t know. But something’s wrong. The easy thing to do would be to just let him sleep it off. The smart thing to do would be to leave him alone until tomorrow. 

I think of all the times that I’ve been upset and Anakin had refused to let me go to sleep angry or sad or overwhelmed. “I know, but it’s really not a big deal. It’s not like we don’t know each other. I mean, last Coronation Season you buttoned me into more gowns than my handmaid. And I owe you for saving me from one of the worst suitors I’ve ever had.” 

“I’m starting to think we need to develop some kind of signal.” 

The tiny bit of lightness that’s returned to his voice makes all of my internal struggle feel worth it. “You always seem to know.” 

“That’s because when you’re reaching your limit, that one line appears between your eyebrows.”

I didn’t realize I had such a tell. I try to remember the way that the suitor drawled on and on about how amazing he was and how he couldn’t wait for the day he had a bride to bear his children and plan (tedious) social events. My hand moves to my forehead, trying to feel the crease Anakin mentioned. Can everyone tell when I’m growing tired? Am I that transparent? 

Anakin’s slight laugh steals my attention. He’s facing me again, his elbow holding his head up on the foot of my bed. “What are you doing?” 

“I don’t--I don’t think i get a crease between my eyebrows when I’m irritated.” 

I hear him stand. I don’t realize he’s approaching me until he’s so close I could touch him without even needing. to stretch. “No, when you’re irritated you raise your eyebrows slightly, because that’s when you’re at your most sarcastic.” 

“Really?” 

The corner of his mouth tugs upwards. “Just like that.” I force myself to keep my expression blank. “When you’re reaching your limit, your eyebrows crease here.” His finger taps the space between my brows so gently I almost don’t realize what he’s doing. “And when you’re trying not to laugh--which is often, because you refuse to admit that I’m funny--you press your lips together in a way that forms a dimple here.” The knuckle of his pointer finger brushes against the bottom of my cheek. 

I bite my tongue to fight the warmth spreading across my face. “I didn’t realize i was so transparent.”

“I can’t always tell what you’re thinking.” 

“I’ll take it.” Maybe if I was less tired, I’d argue a little more. “You know you’re not that difficult to read either.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, I can tell when you’re just being stubborn for the sake of it. I can see it in your eyes and you’re doing it right now.” 

His expression harshens slightly before softening. “Y/n--” 

“I’m not wrong.” 

He sighs once, stepping back. I watch him pace around my bed before taking a seat on the edge of my other side of the bed. “Are you happy now?” 

“Happy that I won? Absolutely.” 

Anakin halfheartedly glares at me. “Careful, add a crown and a robe that trails down a throne and I’d feel like I was speaking to your father.” 

“Careful, another side comment like that and I’ll ‘accidentally’ kick you off the bed in the middle of the night.” 

“Not if I kick you off the bed first.” 

I trace a thoughtless pattern on the fabric of my bedsheets. “What are you? Twelve?” 

“I’m older than you.” 

“Barely.” I continue the thoughtless pattern tracing as I fight the sleep from my eyes. “Your comebacks are usually more creative than that.” 

He exhales, relaxing slightly as he rests his back against a pillow. “I’m tired, like you claimed to be.” His eyes flutter slightly, a bit of his exhaustion showing. “Go to sleep.” 

I should. I’m too old to think I can put off a tomorrow I don’t want by just staying up. This is stupid. I’m too old to think I can put off the anniversary of my mother’s death by going to bed. She had been taken from us on castle grounds, killed by a revolutionist who viewed my mother as a class traitor. I still remember the way she slumped to the ground, her blood staining the snow beneath her. I remember the way the guards were so busy chasing her killer no one thought to keep me away from the body. 

“Y/n?” 

I scratch the back of my arm in hopes of banishing my thoughts. “Yes?” 

“You’re being quiet.” 

“You said to go to sleep, that tends to be a quiet thing.” 

I can feel his eyes on me. “Since when do you listen to me?” Not trusting myself to actually reply, I only offer him a hum of acknowledgement. “I know you’re not half asleep.” 

Folding my hands on my lap, I avoid his gaze. “It’s tomorrow.” 

I don’t know why I trust him to understand my vague response, but I do. His silence stretches over us like a thin blanket on a cold night. Maybe he doesn’t understand what I’m implying. I can always correct him tomorrow, when my eyelids are no longer as heavy as my heart. The more seconds that pass in total silence, the more I think that maybe he’s fallen asleep. 

I wouldn’t be surprised, Anakin has seemed tired recently, like some additional weight he won’t share with anyone has been thrust onto his shoulders. A small part of me rolls in guilt. I need to be a better friend, just because I’m suddenly a little too aware of him doesn’t mean I can shrug him off and ignore him. 

My hand almost flinches away from the feeling of something surprisingly warm touching my pinky. When I realize that it’s just Anakin and that the contact was probably accidental, I force myself to ease. It’s not like we’ve never touched before, I don’t understand why I’m making it weird. Sitting in my bed in the dark doesn’t change anything. His hand turns slightly, pressing into mine a little more assuredly. Biting my tongue, I turn my hand slightly, exposing my palm. And just like that, our fingers intertwine. 

“She would have been proud of you.” His voice comes out so low I barely register the words. 

The words shouldn’t mean much to me--he never knew my mother and has no way to know what she wanted me to be.--and yet I find comfort in them. I smile, turning my head towards him. “You didn’t even know her.” 

He rolls his eyes slightly, relaxing further before squeezing my hand once. “Who wouldn’t be proud of you? You’re kind and smart and decent to be around when you’re not telling me what to do.” 

My heart swells in my chest so much I’m surprised it doesn’t burst. Could he be cuter? “Yeah...now I’m sure you’re my favorite person.” 

“Now you’re sure?” 

The smugness in his voice has me rolling my eyes. “Don’t make me regret saying that.” 

“Maybe in the morning,” he says easily, “now go to sleep. There’s nothing worse than escorting you from meeting to meeting while you’re tired.” 

“I’m not that bad.” Even in this darkness, I can make out the way he raises an eyebrow. “Shut up--I’m going to sleep, but not because of you.” 

He lets out a slight huff. “You’re impossible.” 

The desire to respond to his comment is not enough for me to win the fight against the weight of my eyelids. The moment my eyes shut, I feel powerless to anything that isn’t sleep. I let myself fall into a weightless sleep, my only tether being the Anakin’s fingers around mine. 

--

A distant noise yanks me from my sleep. I’m too drowsy to do anything but register the sound. I hear another similar...whine? cry? I can’t tell and I’m too asleep to figure it out. I almost fall asleep again, but a third distressed sound keeps me from it. I wipe my eyes lazily with the back of my hand as I try to sit up. 

Squinting, I make out a figure on my bed. It takes me a moment to remember Anakin and how I fell asleep. Our hands are still together and no light is peering through my window so it can’t be that long since I fell asleep. Another disgruntled sound carries itself throughout the room. I shift slightly, leaning over Anakin cautiously. 

Golden brown curls are beginning to stick to his forehead and his eyebrows are drawn together sharply. He’s having a nightmare.  I shift even further forward before cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder before squeezing him gently. 

“Anakin,” I whisper, “it’s not--it’s not real.” His eyebrows draw together even more harshly. I shake him a little more stubbornly. “Anakin, wake up--you’re having a ni--”

 My forearm is grabbed so suddenly I barely register it before I feel my back shoved into my mattress. I blink twice. His dark eyes are frantic and the look on his face is far from the gentle, easygoing expression I’m used to. He’s breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling from above me. I swallow a slight panic and something I don’t understand as I try to keep my eyes on his face and my thoughts away from how close he is. Anakin pries his fingers from my forearm one by one until only his palm is touching me. 

“Y/n, I--” 

“It’s okay.” Honestly, I’m more worried about his uneven breathing than the way he grabbed me. I can’t imagine everything he’s been through or how justified his nightmares are. Anakin moves his hand away from me. I don’t sit up until he’s off of me and sitting with his back against my headboard. “It’s okay--I just--you were having a nightmare and I thought I should wake you.” He doesn’t react. I turn my body further, keeping my back straight. Anakin doesn’t move, and the longer he stays still, the more I feel like I should say something else. “Do you want talk about it? Or do--do you want to talk about something else? Or go to sleep? Or get some water? Or--” The far off look behind his eyes silences me. I scoot forward slightly. “You’re okay, Anakin, I promise.” 

His head turns at that, his eyes searching mine for something I don’t understand. “I thought...” He cuts himself off by swallowing once. 

I shift a little more, trying to find anything normal in his expression. “Thought what?” 

Anakin’s hand is on my arm so quickly I don’t even register his movement. I let his fingers press into my skin. He’s holding onto me like I’m a figment of a dream and he’s beginning to wake up. “I thought I’d failed.” He exhales, the sound heavy. “Failed you and that you’d--I  thought I had lost you.” 

A lump rises in my throat, thick and unmoving. Cautiously, I place my hand over the one still gripping my shoulder like a lifeline. “You didn’t. Nothing happened, it was just a dream.” 

His gaze falls to the ground before he repeats the last of my words. “Just a dream.” There’s a hollowness to his voice I don’t understand. 

I exhale, carefully running my thumb over his knuckles. “Yes.” He doesn’t say anything but his expression hardens again. I let us sit there like that for a long minute. “I promise.” 

“You can’t promise things like that.”

I sigh, unsure of where to go from here. “Bad dreams are only bad dreams.” He doesn’t reply. “I think you should try to get some more sleep.” 

Anakin is unresponsive. I shift back, but before I can transition from almost being on top of him to just sitting next to him, he pulls on my arm to keep in place. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” 

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” 

“You almost died today, y/n. I was right there and if I had been a second later--” 

“But you weren’t.” He doesn’t ease. “You were there and I was fine. Don’t torment yourself over what could have been. You’ll drive yourself crazy.” 

“If anything ever happened to y--” 

“It’s not going to,” I whisper, ignoring the way his hold on my arm tightens even further, “Especially this time a year when I have a pretty good gau--” 

He tilts his head slightly, eyebrows drawing together and a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Pretty good? Really?” 

“Someone needs to watch your ego, chosen one.” This time when he tries for a smile, the look has some strength behind it. Relief pools in my stomach. “Now get some sleep, tomorrow’s a busy day and when you’re sleepy you’re beyond irritable.”  

Anakin lets me pull away enough to lay down, but he doesn’t follow. Not for a long second. When he does, his movements are impossibly rigid. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as carefully as I can manage. 

“Y/n?” 

I regret turning my head immediately. I didn’t realize how close he was. It would take no effort from me to make our lips meet. Wait--why am I thinking of that? I’m not allowed to think of stuff like that...especially not about him. 

“Yes?”

He lets out a breath before moving his hand. I don’t understand his hesitation until I feel his hand cupping my cheek gently. “What if next time I’m not enough? What if next time I lose you because I’m not strong enough?” 

I never thought my death would be such a personal thing to him. Sure, I knew that we had some kind of bond, some kind of friendship, and that my death would bring sadness. But I never imagined I’d matter enough to him that thoughts of my death would be frightening enough to slip into his subconscious and become a thing of nightmares. 

“You are enough. Nothing is going to happen to me and if it does it’s not going to be because of you.” Anakin’s lips press together in a way that implies serious uncertainty. His thumb brushes across my cheek so unexpectedly I almost ask him what he’s doing. The intensity behind his eyes is enough to burn me. “Was your dream really that bad?” 

He lets out an uncertain breath as his eyebrows draw together. I don’t miss the way his jaw clenches. “It’s more than the dream. I...y/n, princess,” he tacts on, a hint of humor returning to him, “you’re more than a mission to me.” 

The admission is so soft I can’t help but smile. “I know, Anakin, we’re--” 

“You’re more than a friend to me.” I don’t know if my blood freezes in my veins or if my lungs don’t contract when they should or if my heart literally skips a beat, but I know something in me completely stops at his words. “I--” 

“Don’t say it.” I don’t know how I managed to cut him off so sharply and I’m a little disappointed when I do, but it’s the right thing to do. Thought of the code that’s so important to him have clouded half the immense shock and joy swelling in my chest. “What you’re trying to say...I um, I want to say the same.” I try to drop my gaze but he tilts my head up slightly with his hand. “But we shouldn’t, you know that.” 

"You want to us to pretend that nothing’s different? You want me to escort you from meetings with one suitor to the next every Coronation Season until you’re married off?” 

“No, I’m not saying that. The point is that I’m not saying anything.” His eyebrows draw together in uncertainty. “Isn’t it enough for now, for both of us to just know? If we say it...that could mean bad things for you. And I don’t want to be a bad thing for you.” 

“You could never be.”

It’d be so easy to believe him. To believe him and to let him say what I never imagined I’d be able to hear and damn the consequences of tomorrow. “Can we just refrain from verbally saying anything until you’re sure?” 

“I’m sure right now. I’ve been sure since the first time we ever walked in the garden together. The night after the first Coronation Ball I escorted you to.” 

I remember that night well. The way he hadn’t scolded me for needing air or taking off my uncomfortably high heels to walk in the grass. “If you mean it, you won’t say it yet. I refuse to get in the way of what you’re meant for.”

His thumb runs my cheek entirely, stopping at the corner of my mouth. “Are you capable of not disagreeing with me?” 

Rolling my eyes slightly, I place my hand over his. “Probably not.” 

Anakin exhales, his playful irritation clear in the sound. “You’re impossible when you’re tired.” 

“I am not tired.” 

“I can see the sleep in your eyes.” 

“I can see it in yours too.” 

He pauses, eyebrows drawn together cautiously. “I’ll go to sleep if you do.”

He must be more tired than I thought if he’s compromising with me so quickly. “Deal.” 

Neither of us close our eyes for a long second, we just watch each other with wide eyes. It still doesn’t feel like he’s eased, but he’s come back to me so much more than he was earlier. I’ll make sure to check how he’s feeling in the morning. The first morning after we’ve...I don’t know. 

I’m trying really hard not to get excited because anything that’s been not said could be taken back so easily. That’s the point--but it’s hard not to let my heart get ahead of my rationality. I’ll just take the good for what it is for now and tomorrow we can figure out the rest. Even though he’s not allowed to form attachments and my father really wants to marry me off to foreign royalty.

Tomorrow. This can begin to be solved tomorrow. My eyes shut and I let myself roll fully onto my back. The second I’m comfortably settled, I feel Anakin shift against the bed. I’m too tired to open my eyes until I feel a weight placed against my chest. 

I open my eyes on instinct, less surprised than I should be when I see Anakin’s head resting against my chest. Before I can speak, I feel his arm rest against my side. “Anakin,” I breathe, my hand moving to smooth his hair out of his face the way I’ve wanted to for so long. “What did we just talk about?” 

“You said not to say anything,” he mumbles comfortably, “I’m not saying anything.” ...It is kind of the ideal compromise. Especially since I’m too tired to find reason and he feels so warm. “I can feel you overthinking. Go back to smoothing my hair before I have to rise and stand at your door so that your handmaid comes to wake you. Something tells me she’d be glad for the excuse to get rid of me.” 

That might be the most dramatic thing I’ve ever heard him say. Selma is the most patient woman in the palace. “Selma would never report anything involving me, I can’t believe you don’t like her. She’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.”  

“She’s the one that doesn’t like me,” he says, “she always watches me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m planning on stealing you away.” 

Too tired to fight my smile, I go back to smoothing his hair out with my fingers. After a moment, he lets out an exhale that relaxes his entire body. “Goodnight, princess.” 

“Goodnight.” The word is barely a mumble as I feel sleep tug against me for the second time tonight. 

It’s strange, but my excitement doesn’t diminish my tiredness, it just makes the prospect of rest feel so much fuller. Safer. Because there’s so much to sort out and grieve but it’s okay, because we have the time and everything feels okay because Anakin is here, right beneath my fingertips. 

[afro-hispwriter]

ALICIA CLARK X FEM DIXON READER

After Ricks disappearance (twd) and Fixing the plane era(ftwd)

F/I- first initial

Warnings- language, implied smut

a/n- i wrote this a long time ago, its been posted on on wattpad for a while so i decided to post it on here… Enjoy!

Rick was gone, things were falling apart. Your dad, Daryl left the communities to join search parties all the way until he was the last one searching. Michonne and you wanted to keep looking but her pregnancy was to far along, and you basically took care of her and Judith. The atmosphere feels familiar just like when Carl died, you and him were best friends, you supported him in every one of this decisions even helped him get with Enid.

But this felt worse.

The person who has made sure everybody survives is dead. The man who was a mentor to you, the man who saved your father in countless occasions is dead. Morgan left almost 2 years ago and nobody heard from him. You knew Rick and him were close, he helped Rick when he came out of hospital. He deserves to know what happened and you will make sure of it.

-

"I want to go out and see the world for myself and I want to find Morgan." You said at dinner to Michonne and surprisingly who joined your dad.

"Excuse me what, you want to leave a whole state and travel to Texas just to see the world and find Morgan and for what?" Asked Michonne raising an eyebrow. Your dad sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"I agree kid. Why?" He asked looking at you.

"Ok first I'm pretty sure I'm 18, I'm supposed to be enrolling for college planning out my life, seeing what else is out there. I can take of myself of the time I have been surging in this world I can make it I'm sure if it. And second all of us know how much Rick meant to Morgan, I can go to Texas and tell him what happened maybe he will even come back even if it's for a little bit." You said enthusiastically. The adults shook their heads taking in the information.

"I'll think about it." Said your dad and Michonne nodded going back to eating.

"There's gotta be another reason you wanna leave." Said Daryl as you walked to your home.

"I already said why Dad." You said looking ahead

"No, you didn't I know ma own kid." He said stopping and he grabbed your arm so you would stop as well making you roll your eyes.

"I hate the atmosphere that is going on, it's like when Carl died but worse and I hate it. I just need to go, I need fresh air Dad, i need to see whats out there maybe even help people." You said throwing your arms in the air looking up at the sky. Daryl smiled, you would always talk about helping people when you were just 4 years old. But now that the apocalypse happened he never thought he'd actually have to let you be on your own anytime soon, maybe it was time.

"Alrigh I'll talk to Michonne tomorrow, I'll get ya that trip." He said and you smiled before pulling him into a big hug.

"Thank you father." You said and he chuckled.

-

"Ok y/n, ya have a high range walkie(i know those don't exist for very long distances)for when you get farther and farther away from ere and you have food to last a month or so and water for a week or two. And gas in the car to last Ya couple miles at least to get out of Virginia. A map, a gun with 2 rounds, and please try to put notes or something out there to tell me your alive, please I don't want to go out lookin for ya. Cant loose you kid." Said your dad who it was clear was very nervous on letting you leave.

"I'll be fine dad, I have been taught from the best of the best." You said and then you saw his eyes water.

"No, no dad don't cry because then I will. We have to be strong i promise I'll be fine. We agreed on 2 months if I'm gone more than that or if you don't hear from me when those months come to an end you come looking for me." You said holding back the tears.

"I know kid, I know it's just ya growin to fast." He said looking at you.

"Fuck it come ere kid." He said and pulled you in for a tight hug. You hugged him back hard, soaking up his affection, which definitely doesn't come everyday. You pulled away and looked up at him.

"I'll be fine dad ok, I'll be back." You said and backed up, everybody stood around and you waved before looking at Michonne and pointed at her belly.

"I better be godmother when I come back." You said smiling

"Yes ma'am." She said with a smile on her face. You got in the car and turned it on, you had some doubts on leaving but knew this has to happen. Your dad came to the window and leaned on it and you took in a breathe.

"Please don't loose yourself, if you have to stop stop. Don't leave the people who care about you." You told your dad and he sighed knowing exactly what you meant by that. He was looking for Rick so much it was taking him away from you. Daryl stepped back and you smiled at everybody and waved.

"I'll be back in 2 months I promise." You announced and they all smiled, you put the car in drive and drove off watching the gates close behind you.

"Y/n can you hear me." Your dad said over the walkie and you grabbed it.

"Yeah dad I can hear you."

-

You got to Tennessee right before the car stopped. You sighed and looked around to see if there was anything a car or a store. You grabbed the walkie and took in a breathe, please work, you thought.

"Dad can you hear me?" You asked and heard static then his voice.

"Ya I can, ya alright?" He asked

"Ya I'm fine, I'm in Tennessee but I think that soon probably a couple more miles you won't be able to hear me so im starting with the notes." You said and held back tears.

"Alright I love ya." You heard him sniffile before the walkie went out.

"I love you to dad." You said and out the walkie away and grabbed the pack. You opened the pack and grabbed the note book and pen. You wrote, STILL ALIVE- F/I, and looked for a place to put it. After an hour you found a gas station and put the note on the counter under a rock.

"Dad not sure if you can hear me but, if you do come for me I'm leaving notes in stores." You put the walkie back and grabbed your knife and stabbed a walker that came for you.

-

Almost 13 days (that's what google said). 13 days and nights of running and hiding from herds. Avoiding people, some you had to kill. Your feet hurt even after taking a days break in Arkansas but you finally have reached Texas. Not knowing where Morgan is you decided to use the walkie every few miles in. You looked at the map and Texas was huge, it could take a few weeks to find him, if he is even alive. But you needed a break so you needed to find somewhere safe. You found a house that looked safe enough so you cleared it, only 3 walkers where in it.

You set up a fire and out a can of beans over the fire. You grabbed the map and decided where you should head to next.

(A/n- I read that season 5 of fear is filmed in New Braunfels, Texas and its near Austin soon)

Austin, Texas, in school in Alexandria the teacher said Austin is pretty popular. Morgan could be there so that's where you would start. You took a 2 days rest and even found a lake to bathe in, after getting supplies you made your way to Austin. You left a note at the WELCOME TO TEXAS sign and left another at store the another. There was a hotel a little father form the house and out another there.

After a day or so you were closer to Austin and decided it's time to try with the Walkie.

"Morgan, it's Y/n I'm in Texas, I don't know if your alive but I'm here." You said and put the walkie away after no answer. You walked for what seemed hours when you saw the Austin sight and grabbed the walkie.

"Morgan I'm in Austin." You said into the walkie and decided to start trying different channels as you repeated the question though each. You tried the last channel and was about to put it away when you heard voices and your heart sped up.

"Morgan?" You asked and kept moving the circle to hear it more clearly.

"John, June you there." Someone said, it was a deep voice and noticed it was Morgan's voice.

"Morgan, Morgan, it Y/n Dixon from Alexandria, please hear me." You said pleading to yourself.

"Y/n wha-." He started. "What are you doing out here so far, where are you?" He asked.

"Umm I'm by the Welcome to Austin sign. Where are you maybe I can find you." You said and out down to the ground pulling the map out."

"I have two people close to you y/n, don't be alarmed their names are John and June." He said and you sighed.

"Ok." You said wearily.

"John, June did you hear that." Asked Morgan and a female bodice came through.

"We hear you Morgan, on our way Y/n." A man said.

"Hang tight y/n." Said Morgan and you sat back. You grabbed a paper and pen and wrote. FOUND MORGAN. You sat there for a while when a car approached and stopped next to you, you raised you knife reading to attack of nesassary. The window went down and the man and woman out there hands up.

"Hold on hold on young lady I'm John and this is June, we come to get you." John said and you hesitated.

"We won't hurt you i promise." June said. You nodded and grabbed your stuff and opened the car. You sat down and watched John and June's every move.

"So where did you come from?" Asked John and you sighed.

"Long story." You breathed out a laugh and they smiled.

"Guess we will know about it after you meet Al." Said June and you cocked your head to the side.

"Who's Al?" You asked wearily.

"She was journalist before and she interviews everybody on their stories." Said John and you nodded.

-

"Morgan, who is y/n?" Asked Alicia as she and Luciana approached him.

"She's comes from Virginia and Alexandria like me, she's around your age Alicia." Said Morgan smiling and Alicia rolled her eyes.

-

The car came to a stop out some gates and they opened. The car pulled in and people crowded around. John and June got out and your door opened revealing Morgan. You got out of the car and hugged him before pulling away to look over all the people. It was a whole bunch of little kids then a whole bunch of adults.

You looked around and your eyes fell on a very pretty girl with brown hair and hazel eyes. Her eyes where on you but they seemed defensive like yours at the moment. You felt uncomfortable and Morgan said to clear a path so you could sit down.

-

"I have been walking for almost 20 days, Car broke down when I reached Tennessee." You said to Al and she smiled. Everybody else was sitting around eating dinner as they heard your story how you arrived here.

"You have any family, back in Virginia?" She asked and you nodded.

"I have my dad, and more people who became my family, we have lost some but they will never be replaced." You said.

"Lover?" She asked and you shook your head no.

"Nope pretty much a virgin." You said and they all laughed.

Alicia started at you slowly relaxing that you were not a threat, all of them did.

"Why did you come here?" Asked Al and you sighed.

"I was 12 when the world started, I'm like 18 now. I'm supposed to be enrolling into college now, planning out my life going to go see what's out there. The apocalypse may have happened but I still want that chance. And Morgan I need to tell you something, privately." You said and he looked at you concerned. He gave Al a look and she shut the camera off then got the film. He stood up and you followed, he stopped just a few feet from everybody and waited for you to speak.

"Ricks gone." You said. "Gone not dead, just gone it's like he disappeared." You said looking down, thinking about that day.

"Wha- what how, what happened." He asked.

"Bridge explosion, he saved everybody." You said and Morgan nodded then you heard someone clear their throat.

"I'm sorry Morgan." Said June, you looked at him confused.

"I told them about Virginia, they how me and Rick go back." He said and you nodded.

"They haven't the body?" He asked and you shook your head.

"No, my dad, he has been looking out there by the bridge everyday, Michonne is pregnant with Ricks kid and she's about to give birth so she can't look anymore. And I was practically taking care of Judith so I couldn't either. And others have their own thing." You said and Morgan nodded again before walking off. You sighed and and smiled at the group.

"Anything else you guys want to know about me?" You asked and Al came forward.

"I want to know about the king and the tiger." Said Al and you nodded walking back to the fire.

-

You told everybody what you needed to know. Your guard was down long ago, you kept sneaking glances at the girl who's name is Alicia and she looked back at you as well. You got ready for bed when you were approached by Alicia.

"We never had a formal introduction, I'm Alicia Clark." She said holding her hand out and you shook it.

"Y/n Dixon."

You talked the night until you fell asleep from exhaustion. You learned about her family, all the things she has been through and you shared hers. She told you about her boyfriends and you felt a pang of jealousy, 'Gosh y/n you don't even know this girl,' you told your self. You fell asleep after an hour and Alicia put a blanket over you and whispered goodnight and left. You woke up the next morning feeling refreshed and got up. You looked in the mirror and braided your hair into two. You went outside and the people started building some type of plane. You approached Alicia as she was talking through a microphone looking at parts. She saw you approach and she smiled, you then looked up and saw a plane.

"Hey what's with the plane, didn't see that last night?" You asked Lucianna as you approached her, she smiled and sighed.

"A few weeks ago we were on a plane and we crashed landed a few miles from here, we actually came from here at first so we came back. Those kids they left biters out there tied up to keep us away, because it's not safe. We gained their trust and we are building this plane so we can get out of this place." She said sun you nodded you looked over the people and your eyes fell on him.

"Dwight?" You said sternly and he looked at you eyes widening.

"Mini Dixon, what are you doing out here?" He asked and you glared at him grabbing your knife when you felt a hang go to it, you saw Morgan shaking his head to stand down.

"What are you doing here, I thought you were dead?" You asked him.

"I'm lookin for Sherry, my wife, not trying to cause any trouble." He said and raised his good arm as a surrender. You nodded and stood down every body who watched went back to what they were doing. Alicia came in-front of you with a concerned look.

"So what's your story with him?" She asked

"He served the man who killed two people of my family and kept my father in a cage keeping him like an animal." You said looking at her with hard eyes.

You lended you knowledge on fixing things with the plane. It's clear they were grateful on your help, you fixed the engine to the best of your ability.

"Y/n want to come with me to a ware house, we need more parts." Said Alicia and you nodded. You made your way down and smiled at her.

-

Small Alicia POV

Gosh she is so beautiful. I met her yesterday and I feel like I have known her since forever. Call me crazy but I'm starting to get feelings for her already.

-

Regular POV

The butterflies in your stomach were almost painful when you were near Alicia. She was gorgeous, you felt like you could tell her everything and you almost have from Atlanta to now. You grabbed your backpack, emptying it out of anything that was worth leaving just encase. You took your knives and gun and left to find Alicia. She was waiting outside a car and got in when she saw you. You sat in the drivers seat and looked to see if anybody else was going, luckily no one was there.

"Anybody else going?" You asked and she shook her head.

"Do you have a problem with it, because I can get someone to come with us may-." She started but you shook your head no.

"I have no problem at all." You said and winked making her cheeks flush red. She drove to the warehouse and she told you the parts to look out for as well as food. You took out two walkers with your knives and looked back to see Alicia looking at you with awe.

"Never taken out biters with knives really." She said chuckling. You looked down and saw a metal pole that was sharpened at the edges.

"Well I mean that pole is badass, where did you get it, might need to get myself one." You asked.

"A water park." She said smiling and you nodded.

"Alright tell you what I teach you how to fight with knifes and we stay a little longer to find a pole similar to yours. Deal?" you asked holding your hand out. She thought for a second and took your hand and shook it.

"Ok come here stand in-front of me." You said as two walkers approached you both. She stood infront of you and you handed her your knives, you stood close to her.

"Now, you going to want to dodge them, go in between them. Remember you have to use strength to kill them just cant push it in. I'll be here just encase." You said. The walkers go closer and Alicia tightened her grip on the knives.

"Go you said." And she ducked as they swung at her, you backed up out of reach then one by one they were both put out.

"That was great, remember you gotta faster and if you have someone behind you, let's say as kid you have to push them back, maybe use you leg or arm. Even an adult if they don't notice you have to act quick." You said and she nodded cleaning the knives.

"Thanks I'll definitely use that, after I find knives." She said.

"If you can get a hunting knife there much stronger and lighter." You said and she nodded. You found a majority of the parts needed and headed back to the car.

"I found this." She said and handed you a metal pole with holes in it. You grabbed it and smiled at you, you got one of your knives and it's holster and handed it to her.

"Thank you Alicia, as a true thanks here's one of my knives, work with one just for now you will go better I just know of it." You said and she smiled brightly.

"Thank you, now let's get back and we can sharpen the edge." She said and started the car.

You kissed her cheek and pulled back getting a red face. You looked at her though the corner of your eye and saw her face was red.

-

When you arrived back to the truck stop, she helped sharpen the metal pole. You and her had a flirty thing going on for the rest of the month until you started feeling sexual tension start to arise. The stares would last long as well as lingering touches, she thought you how to use the pole and you taught her knives. Everybody shared their knowledge with you and you did with them.

The plane was just about finished when you realized if they finish the plane you may loose them, loose her.

"So, where do you guys plan on going after getting the rest of your group?" You asked Alicia as she ate dinner, sitting on the ground.

"Not sure, definitely leave this area." She said and you nodded seeing how bad the area is, you sat down next to her and she offered some of her dinner but you waved it off.

"Maybe fly to Virginia." She said lowly and you looked at her like she was crazy.

"I'm just playing can't risk another crash, especially where the girl I likes home is." She said and looked at you. Your face went red and the butterflies in your stomach, she grabbed your chin and pulled your face closer to hers.

"Y/n Dixon I like you a lot, it's ok if you don't but-." She said but you silenced her with a kiss. She pulled you in harder making you moan, she set her dinner down and you pushed her on the ground, straddling her. You looked up and saw there were people still around so you pulled away.

"Want to take me to your tent?" You asked and she nodded, you got off her and held your hand out which she gladly took. She led you to her tent opening it and pulled you inside. You slid your shirt off and she did the same.

She looked at yours left arm and stomach and noticed a beautiful tattoos.

(This but all around the forearm)

(Something like that)

"Didn't know you had tattoos." She said and scratched her head.

"Oh yeah... do they bother you?" You asked.

"No no they are actually really hot." She said making you blush. You walked over to her and pushed her onto the makeshift bed.

"Wait crap I've never had sex with-." She started and you kissed her.

"It's ok, I'll teach you." You said and she looked at you confused.

"After Carl died, his girlfriend, Enid, and me got close and we ended up in bed together. It was just one night didn't mean anything." You said and stroked her hair.

"Didn't say that in the interview." She said and leaned back letting you crawl on top of her.

"Some things are just not to be meant to be said." You said and winked at her. You went down and captured her lips, she raised her hands and caressed your sides. You laid down on her putting your weight on her body making her moan.

"Just relax let me do the work." You said and trailed down her stomach.

a/n- once ftwd season 6 comes to hulu I’ll be able to continue my part 2

[doubleleoenergy]

i. Losers, The Princess and the Pogue Series

Only losers go to school, I taught myself how to move. I'm not the type to count on you, because stupids next to "I love you".

Series Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, possible season 2 spoilers (if you squint), underage drinking, weed smoking, swearing, fistfights, mentions of blood

Summary: It’s the last day before their senior year and The Pogues are throwing a rager at the Boneyard to celebrate. That’s where JJ meets her.

Words: 1817

“JJ, come help me with the keg!” John B shouted, grabbing one end of the keg and waiting for JJ to grab the other side. JJ passed the package of red solo cups to Kiara, strolling up to grab the other side of the keg, gripping it tight and lifting it up over the driftwood that rested in their path.

It was time for one of the Pogues famous keggers at the Boneyard, and the gang was gearing up to celebrate. The first day of their senior year of high school was tomorrow, and they were buzzing with excitement. The fact that the fivesome had even made it that far, alive, was a miracle. Especially with how many days they had missed school over the past three years. But it didn’t matter, none of it mattered, they had made it.

“Yo Pope, get the fire going, the sun’s about to set!” JJ instructed, dropping some sticks in the designated fire pit spot. Their eager and early attendees would be showing up within the hour.

“Kie and I got it.” Pope responded, working with Kiara to get the sticks in the perfect arrangement. They worked on the fire while Sarah started filling solo cups up with beer for each of them, passing them out one-by-one until each had a cup in their hands.

Pope and Kiara had finally sparked the fire, the flames roaring to life, lighting up the Boneyard along with the large lanterns they had set up across the space for extra illumination.

“Alright guys, gather around.” John B commanded, each of the Pogues huddling together in a circle, raising their cups high in the air. Sarah wrapped an arm around John B’s chest, leaning into his side and looking up at him.

“We’ve been through hell and back, Pogues. And somehow the devil hasn’t devoured us yet. To the start of an unforgettable senior year, and to trying to go a few days without almost being murdered.” He moved his cup to the middle of the circle, the others banging their glasses together, droplets of beer spilling into the sand.

“Don’t get soft on us, John B.” JJ teased, chugging the rest of the beer in his cup before tossing it playfully at the man. John B laughed, chasing JJ down the beach to tackle him. The sound of voices in the distance fills the air, the wafting noise of a speaker playing a soulful beat hitting the gang’s ears.

“Yo, John B! JJ! Get your asses over here, it’s party time!” Kiara screamed, waving them over as the first group of people appeared past the tree line.

Hours later and the kegger was in full swing, groups of the working-class derelicts and Kooks talking amongst their kind. Pope and Kiara were chilling at the far end of the beach, Kiara picking up some solo cups that had been dropped in the sand, complaining about how no-one cared about the Earth anymore. John B and Sarah were over with a group of kids from their school, discussing the upcoming year and some of the kids talking about where they planned to go to college.

That left JJ alone, filling up his cup with a third helping of beer for the evening. He had smoked a blunt earlier with a few of his classmates, and he was floating on the perfect high. JJ loved to watch people when he got like this, watching the different groups interact, hyper focusing on the way the flames of the fire flickered, sending smoke into the starry night sky. Damn he loved this place.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard some commotion coming from the right side of the beach near the fire pit, a group of Kooks blocking his view of what was happening.

“Kelce, the girl said to back off.” Topper noted, tugging on the back of the man’s shirt.

“Topper, I’m not doing anything, man. I’m just getting to know the new girl.” He stated, stepping closer to y/n, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Isn’t that right, beautiful?”

Y/N slapped his hand away, squaring her shoulders and standing up straighter, looking up at the man.

“Don’t call me that.” She hissed.

JJ heard the group talking amongst themselves, gathering around the two, and he pushed his way through the crowd of people to take in the situation. That’s when he first laid eyes on her.

Her body was sucked into a black lace bodysuit, the string laced like shoes along her chest. Her light denim cutoffs hung from her hips, the bottoms coming just below her ass. She donned a pair of black Ked sneakers, her outfit casual yet classy. Was she a Kook?

“Why? It’s a compliment. You don’t like compliments?” Kelce questioned, taking a step closer, their faces inches apart. “C’mon, just one dance, Princess.” He placed a hand on her arm, stroking it as she pulled back.

“You’re repulsive.” She spat, turning on her heel to walk away.

“And you’re a miserable bitch.” Before Y/N could turn to respond, JJ had stalked forward, shoving Kelce backwards onto the beach.

“You dirty fucking Pogue!” Kelce fumed, standing back up and shoving JJ back, almost knocking down y/n in the process. The sentence spurred JJ on, throwing punches at Kelce before the other man socked him right in his left eye, having him stumble backwards for a moment.

“Not so tough now, huh JJ? Did your piece of shit dad teach you how to fight too?”

That was the last straw, JJ lurching forward and knocking Kelce to the sand, his fists flying wildly as he punched him once, twice, three times before getting off him. Kelce gasped for breath, spitting out blood onto the sand as Topper got down on the sand next to Kelce, holding his hand out for JJ to stop.

“Cut it out! Kelce, let’s go.” Topper urged, helping the man to his feet before the two disappeared into the crowd, a few Kooks following them.

JJ let out a chuckle, wiping at the fresh cut above his eyebrow that was dripping blood onto his cheek. His eye was killing him, groaning as he held a hand up to cover it, y/n appearing before him on his right side, his only side with vision now.

“Are you alright?” She questioned, knowing he probably wasn’t considering the state his face was in. JJ spit blood into the sand, tilting his head down to look at her. She was at least a foot shorter than him, which wasn’t hard, considering he was 6’0.

“I was actually gonna ask you that.” He retorted, his injured eye twitching beneath his hand.

“M’fine. Let me at least get you some ice for your eye.” Y/N gestured JJ to follow her towards a group of coolers someone had brought, digging inside to grab a few pieces of loose ice. She pulled down the olive-green bandana that she had tied into her hair, unraveling it until she had enough space to put the ice inside, wrapping it up tight before turning back to JJ.

“Sit down.” She instructed, gesturing to the large tree trunk along the ground. JJ didn’t protest, sitting down before y/n plopped down beside him, holding out the makeshift ice pack to him.

“I’ll live, I’ve had worse.” He pointed out, taking the bandana from her hand and placing it upon his swollen eye. Of course, he’d attend his first day of senior year with a black eye. Nothing new in his life.

“I’m just trying to be nice, y’know, for what you did back there.” She noted, staring down at her shoes.

JJ turned his head and shifted his body so he could face her, nursing his injured eye with the bandana. “Kelce is a piece of shit; you’ve caught onto that pretty quickly it seems.” He stuck out his hand to her, his knuckles starting to swell from the punches he’d laid to Kelce’s face. “I’m JJ by the way.”

She grabbed his hand in her own, shaking it up and down, her eyes locked on his. “Y/N.” They kept shaking hands for a moment before y/n finally pulled away, her cheeks heating up from the blush on her face.

“S’nice to meet ya, y/n. Never seen you around town before.” He shifted the ice to his right hand, his left needing to thaw from the cold that the ice produced.

“Just moved back last week, I’ll be starting my senior year at Kildare tomorrow. I lived here until I was three then my mom had us move.”

“Moved to where?” He questioned, relaxing his posture.

“Missoula, Montana.” She picked at a loose string on her shorts, listening to a group of guys behind her egging each other on to chug their drinks.

“Welcome back, I guess.” This clearly wasn’t the greatest welcoming committee for her, but that’s what life was like out here. Before JJ could say anything else, he was interrupted by the sound of John B’s voice calling out for him in the distance. John B walked towards the pair, his hand laced with Sarah’s, stopping a few feet from where they sat on the log. His eyes moved back and forth between the two, a confused expression on his face as he took in the site of JJ.

“Uh, I was just about to ask you if you wanted to get out of here, Sarah’s Uncle Matt will kill me if I don’t get her home by at least midnight, since it’s a school night.” The aftermath of the past few years had Sarah living with her Aunt Linda, her Uncle Matt, her cousin Elizabeth, and her sister Wheezie. JJ had been living with John B for the past year, and the trio had arrived together at the Boneyard in John’s van.

“Yeah man, I’ll be right there.” JJ stood up, offering y/n back her bandana ice pack, but y/n protested.

“You keep it.” She gave him a warm smile, resting her thumb against her lip bottom lip.

“I’ll wash it and give it back.” He announced, backing up in the direction that John B and Sarah had headed. “I’ll see you at school then?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Sure thing. Thanks again, JJ.” 

JJ didn’t respond, instead giving her a one-handed salute before doing a 180 spin towards John B and Sarah. He jogged up after them, flanking John’s right side as they walked towards his van.

“What’s with the shiner?” John B asked.

“And the cut that’s bleeding above your eyebrow.” Sarah added, squeezing John B’s hand in hers.

“Kelce was bothering that new girl. It was an excuse to beat the shit out of that Kook.” He mumbled, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

“Whatever you say man, let’s hurry up before Sarah’s Uncle sprays me with the hose for making her late again.”

Tagging those who may be interested. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list: @midnightf​, @bucksmotel​, @blackwiddows​, @sokovianheadtilt​, @astrydis​, @moniamaybank​, @matbarzalschain​

[krappykawa]

ಌ i mildly like you more than like (p.1)

— in which an incessant fan girl, a kiss, and a little bit of denial makes oikawa tooru realize he might mildly like you more than like

description. you’ve been in love with oikawa tooru for longer than you can remember. having known him for the better part of nearly 11 years, you’ve come to accept that you’ll never be more than a best friend to him. but with the help of a few irritatingly persistent fangirls and a kiss that was only meant to drive them away, a tale of unrequited love might just prove to be something more. 

warnings. language

word count. 4.2k

oikawa tooru x f!reader, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, some angst

parts. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

author’s note. i started writing this a few weeks ago and it was originally just going to be a one-shot but it got almost up to 10k words so i just decided to split it up HHSKFJ

Oikawa Tooru has perhaps one of the strongest drives when it comes to hard work. 

His tenacity is a thing of nature, something that awes you time and time again, no matter how many times you’ve seen him pick himself up before. It might be one of the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place. 

But despite how in-tune he is with his senses on a mental standpoint, his Achilles’ heel lies with his inability to pick up on the signs his body gives him when it's had enough. Well, he can, but he just chooses not to listen. 

His first encounter with a crack in that heel came in his first-year, where you had to stand on the sidelines and watch as he fell to the ground during a game with a resounded sweep of gasps around the gym. That injury benched him for more than half the season. 

It was from that point on that you and Iwaizumi decided that if Oikawa wasn’t going to take care of his own body, then it would be up to you two to make sure his head is still above water. 

So it doesn’t surprise you when your phone flashes with a text message from Iwaizumi during one of your shifts at the bakery. 

1 new message: iwa (´,,•ω•,,)♡

Received: can you come pick up shittykawa

“Tooru?” 

A figure sits slumped against the benches in front of Aoba Johsai high, his eyes closed as he lays back. There’s something beautiful about the way that he looks almost ethereal in this relaxed state, the most relaxed you’d seen him in months. When he hears his name from your lips, he slowly blinks and sits up, the aura of relaxation falling from him. 

You almost regret having said anything in the first place when he puts up his guard the moment he sees you.

“Y/N-chan!” An easy smile falls between his lips, one that could’ve easily fooled anyone else. He always was very good at portraying happiness and contentment, especially when he’d been followed everywhere by people that only really want to see Oikawa Tooru, popular ladies’ man with charm that could make your mother swoon. 

But you’re one of the select few that knew him before he learned that his charm was a crucial asset in his arsenal. You knew him at his highs and his lows, so the convincing smile on his lips doesn’t convince you in the slightest. That’s because you notice the way his arms seem to sit limply in his lap and the way his eyes convey fatigue rather than joy. You also know that Iwaizumi called you here for one thing. 

“Don’t Y/N-chan me. Iwa texted me.” 

Oikawa’s facade seems to fall at that, replaced with a troubled expression. He brings his right hand up to wipe at his face in frustration. “Listen, I don’t know what he may have said, but he’s exaggerating. I’m fine.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. He can’t seem to meet your eyes. “Well, that’s a lie considering that you’re out here right now and not in that gym,” you say matter-of-factly. 

“He physically dragged me out here!” Oikawa whines, throwing his hands in the direction of your school’s gym. 

A bemused chuckle leaves your lips as you move to sit beside him on the bench. Oikawa moves his bag to give you more room to sit, but you don’t move any closer. “And when has that ever stopped you?”

Oikawa getting kicked out of practice by Iwaizumi and even on select days, by their coach, is not an unusual occurrence. Iwaizumi has forcefully dragged Oikawa out of the gym before. Each and every time, Oikawa just marched right back in, despite Iwaizumi’s rage and his coach’s warnings. Even when his extra practice hours cause detrimental effects to his knee, Oikawa never seems to back down. 

It was something both you and Iwaizumi had grown used to in your years of friendship with Oikawa -- his incredibly stubborn determination to somehow work himself to the point of bad health. 

That’s how you know something different has happened today, because Oikawa is sitting out here on a bench rather than arguing with Iwa about how “a few more serves won’t hurt him!” (though they most definitely do, and Oikawa never seems to learn). 

You turn your head to look at him. He’s quiet now, though he still doesn’t meet your eyes. His gaze is instead focused on a dog that’s running in the park opposite the school. You know that he’s avoiding confirming your accusation. 

When it doesn’t seem like he’s going to talk anytime soon, you sigh. “All I’m saying is that if you really believed that you were fine, you would be using all your blood, sweat, tears in order to find a way back into the gym. Especially since the qualifiers are coming up.” You lean back against the bench as well, letting your eyes watch the dog happily run with its tongue lolling out of its mouth. “But instead you’re here, sitting on a bench in the afternoon. And from the looks of it, you had no intention of heading home.” 

He still doesn’t turn to look at you, the only indication that he even heard you is the mild tick in his jaw. You try not to think about how perfectly sculpted his side profile is.  

When he finally does speak, he still avoids your accusation of his fatigue and instead asks, “Why did Iwa-chan call you here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be working at the bakery?”

You shrug. “Business was slow. Besides, my boss likes me enough to let me go early today. He said I’d have to work overtime this weekend though.” 

At that, he finally turns to look at you. In the split second that you glance at him, you catch the guilt in his gaze before he looks away again. “You shouldn’t have come. You already overwork yourself being the only decent baker besides your boss that works there.”

A smile spreads on your face, your tone teasing. “Oikawa Tooru wants to talk to me about overworking myself?”

“I’m serious. You work too hard at that bakery for the measly amount that they pay you. Don’t think I don’t notice the way you try to cover your under eye circles with makeup.”

You feel your stomach jump, the familiar feeling causing your lips to tug upwards lightly. Tooru has been one of your best friends ever since you moved into the house across from his when you were seven years old. You hadn’t known when it happened, but you had come to school one day last year and just suddenly knew that your feelings were no longer limited to platonic when it came to the brown-haired volleyball captain. It’s in moments like these where you wonder how he hasn’t managed to figure your feelings out, considering how observant he is of everything else about you. 

“Yes, well I’m sorry that we can’t all look like we spawn from a god like you do. It’s seriously unfair how you can still look like that when you get even less sleep than I do.”

There’s only a hint of teasing in his voice when he says, “You think I look that handsome?” He turns to face you again, and this time there’s a blink of surprise lurking in his chestnut eyes. Especially now, with the sun casting golden glows on his hair and skin, he looks beautiful to you. 

Painfully, it reminds you about how unrequited your feelings are. Not that Oikawa has ever outright rejected you or even acknowledged knowing anything of your feelings, but him reciprocating your feelings didn’t even cross your mind as a possibility most days. Not with the group of girls that are always vying for his attention; not when his ex-girlfriend was what everyone thought was his perfect match; not when he hadn’t even attempted a committed relationship since Yua-san broke up with him all those months ago.

“Y/N?” His voice drags you out of your train of thought. You realize that you had been staring at him this entire time. 

You play off your thoughts with a roll of your eyes and turn your head back towards the park. “No,” you lie. “I just hear comments like that from your fan club all the time.” 

He nods lightly, his eyebrows creasing. “Right. Right, of course.” You’re about to ask about the odd tone in his voice when he speaks again. “You never did answer my question. Why did Iwa-chan send you here?”

“He wanted me to make sure that you actually went home instead of finding somewhere else to practice,” you say. A chuckle escapes your lips. You’re happy for the change in topic. 

“I am not that hard-headed!” You raise a brow at him. He pouts. “Fine. Maybe a little.”

“A little?”

“Oh come on, Y/N. Now you’re just being mean!”

“Yeah well, it’s payback. You’re a real pain in the ass.”

“In your ass, I hope.” 

You try to keep the blush from your cheeks as your mind takes you in a completely different direction. Suddenly, the space between you two seems too small. “You might want to rethink what you just said.” You try not to stare at his mouth as it falls open, your mind still invading your thoughts with images that you should not be fantasizing about when he’s sitting right beside you. 

“Wait.” Oikawa’s eyes go so comically wide that you almost forget your own embarrassment. “Jeez, that did not come out in the right way. Not right at all.” For what seems like the millionth time, he looks away from you, though this time it seems to be out of his own mortification over what he just said. There seems to be a blush to his cheeks, but you very well might have just imagined it. 

You let out a laugh, your arms coming up to clutch at your side. “I cannot believe that you’re supposed to be the big hotshot volleyball player that every girl has a crush on. There is not a charming bone in your body. I refuse to believe it.”

Oikawa lets out a small chuckle. “I don’t have to charm you when you already love even the uncharming parts of me. But if anyone asks, I am completely perfect. There are no uncharming parts to Oikawa Tooru. Don’t you dare spread false rumors, Y/N-chan!”

An amused snort leaves you at his last three sentences, but you decide to respond on the first part of his words. “Me? Loving you? Very unlikely.” You tease, trying your hardest to keep a straight face when Oikawa begins to pout. 

“If you don’t love me after all these years I will actually start crying right now and then those girls that follow me everywhere will come for your blood for making me cry.”

You chuckle again, catching yourself before you roll your eyes again. Next to you, Oikawa has his arms crossed with a convincing pout sitting on his lips that makes him look like a child. You smile despite yourself. “Okay, okay keep the dramatics to a minimum.”

“Then say it.”

“Say what?

“Say that you love me.”

You feel a small pang as you plaster a smile on your face. “I mildly like you more than like,” you say, not really sure if you’d be able to say those three words to him at this point in time. Not when you know that they’re true.

Oikawa’s pout deepens, but you’re adamant on not saying more. 

“That’s all you’re getting from me, Crappykawa.” Suddenly you find yourself amused at the way you managed to sound exactly like Iwaizumi. It hadn’t occurred to you that you’d spent so much time with him.

“Call me pretty and I’ll drop it.”

“You’re so needy sometimes, you know that?”

“Very much aware, Y/N-chan. As if you and Iwa-chan would ever let me forget.”

An eye roll comes easy to you and this time you don’t try to stop it. At this point, an eye roll is almost like a natural reaction to anything Oikawa says. “Fine. I’ll admit you’re not bad too look at.”

“Not great, but I’ll take it,” he concludes. “I can slowly feel the crack in my ego being restored.”

“If you want to be complimented please go seek out the never-ending stream of girls and guys that come your way hoping for even an ounce of your attention.” You hope that he doesn’t notice the mild bitterness in your voice. “I’m almost positive that they’ll be willing to tell you just how pretty you are and how everyone in the world should be in love with you.”

“They should be, shouldn’t they?” Oikawa bemuses.

A laugh leaves your lips despite your efforts. “You are insufferable sometimes. I don’t understand why I’ve kept you around for so long.”

“There you go with the insults again,” he tskes. “Have you and Iwa-chan been spending time together without me?” 

“Iwa and I are friends you know?”

“Yeah but you’re supposed to be my best friend,” he pouts. 

“You already said that line to Iwaizumi yesterday when he opted to carry me instead of you.”

“Yeah, well … I met you before he did!”

“Because you threw a volleyball at my head!”

“It was an accident!”

Laugher spills from both of your lips at the memory. It isn’t until Oikawa’s hair brushes upon your shoulder during his laughter that you realize that the space between you and Oikawa had increasingly gotten smaller. He’s so close that your thighs are only centimeters apart. 

As your laughter dies down, Oikawa’s bubbly personality begins to slip once more and the fatigue on his face becomes more evident. Eventually, he rests his head on your shoulder. You feel your stomach flutter pleasantly at his proximity. Even now, you can smell the cologne he regularly wears, the one you helped pick out back in first-year that he’s worn ever since. 

Once the silence lasts for a few moments, you finally attempt to ask him about practice once more. “Are you finally going to tell me why you didn’t fight back when Iwa threw you out of practice?” 

He sighs. “I guess you can say that I’m a little bit tired. Plus my knee hurts like all hell has reigned down.” His voice is so much different from just moments before that it’s hard to believe that they come from the same person. 

“You’re exhausted,” you say. It’s not a question, but more of a definite statement. 

“More or less,” he responds quietly. 

This time, it’s you that sighs. “Just … be careful. I get that you want to beat everyone and go to Nationals, but you’re no good to your team if you fuck your knee up so badly that you can’t play.”

“This year is our last chance,” he mumbles. “I just don’t want to look back later and wish that maybe I’d practiced just a little more.”

“You can’t beat anyone if you’re sitting on the bench from an injury that you got from overworking yourself.”

Oikawa winces at the tone in your voice. You almost feel guilty. Almost. 

“You’re going to work yourself to death. Iwaizumi and I aren’t just going to stand by and watch you dig your own grave,” you say softly. “For his sake, at least. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I’ll try,” he says. For some reason, you believe him.

The two of you sit there in silence once more, the wind blowing lightly on your hair and the sounds of a busy town echoing around you. You wish that you could bottle this moment up and keep it with you forever, even if it’s only a testament to how much Oikawa values you as a best friend and nothing more. 

The thought makes your stomach drop in the slightest bit. It’s usually easy to contain your depth of feelings for Oikawa when the air around you two is lively and joking, but you’ve found over the years that quiet moments like these are the ones that really tear at your heart. 

He’ll never know the extent of your feelings for him, and you’re too afraid to wonder what would happen if he did know. 

Oikawa turns his head only slightly to look up at you while still continuing to lean on your shoulder. “You okay?” 

You give an almost imperceptible nod. “We should head home. I don’t know what Iwaizumi might do to you if he finds you out here after practice ends,” you say. 

Oikawa nods and detaches his head from your shoulder. 

The two of you have only walked a couple of meters when you hear a group of girls squeal from not too far away. Oikawa tenses from beside you. 

“Your fanclub found you,” you say.

“I’m aware.”

He doesn’t make any move to look back at them or stop. Instead, his pace seems to speed up. 

You furrow a brow. “You don’t want to talk to them? Thought you loved their attention?”

“Ouch. You really know how to wound a man, Y/N-chan,” he says with a small smile on his lips. You take notice of the weariness in his features. “But while I do enjoy them feeding my very justified ego, I am far too fatigued to deal with them.”

You nod and continue to walk beside him. The less interactions he has with his fan club, the better your mood will be. Besides, you weren’t going to fail Iwaizumi by not doing the one thing he asked you to do and not take Oikawa home. 

A giggle reaches your ears once more, and you sneak a glance behind you. The girls are talking amongst themselves, but still obviously walking in the direction you’re headed in. 

“Well, what do you wanna do? Cause they’re coming.”

Oikawa sighs and you notice a tick of irritation in his clenched jaw. You can see a million thoughts going through his mind, but before you can ask him about them, he reaches out to grab your hand.

“Is this okay? I’m just hoping that they’ll leave me alone if they think that you and I … uhm.”

Oikawa’s hands are long and calloused, but they feel nice as his fingers intertwine with your smaller ones. You try hard not to let the little gesture get to you. “Yeah … yeah of course.”

The two of you fall into silence again, mostly due to his fatigue and your inability to form coherent words that don’t have to do with his hand in yours. You’ve held hands with Oikawa before, but it was never with the intent to make you two look like a couple. You wish more than anything that he would break the silence before you blurt out something that you don’t want to. 

Your wishes are answered when Oikawa asks, “They’re still following us, aren’t they?” Oikawa still doesn’t look back as he says it.

In your short reverie you had forgotten about the girls behind you. You sneak another glance at them and find that Oikawa’s assumption is correct.

“Yeah, they are.”

Oikawa makes an incoherent noise. “Y/N-chan, could you be a dear and describe what they look like? I have a feeling I know who exactly they are.”

You turn back again, and really take a good look at them. They’re pretty. Really pretty, you think. You wonder for a second what they could’ve done to make Oikawa so adamant on not speaking with them. 

“There’s three girls. One with cropped red hair, one with long blonde hair, and one with brown hair in a high ponytail.”

“Oh, it’s them again. I don’t know what to do to get them to leave me alone at this point,” he sighs. 

“Who are they? What’s going on?”

His grip on your hand tightens. “Ichika-san and her friends. She sent me a love letter about a month ago. I tried to let her down easily, but it seems that she has yet to give up.”

“This girl is your stalker?”

“Not quite. At least, I hope not.”

The noise from behind you two gets increasingly louder. A giggle echoes on the mildly empty street and you catch Oikawa’s name being whispered between their conversations. Now that you’ve found out about what they’ve been putting him through, your annoyance spikes. 

“Not to sound paranoid or anything, but I’m not keen on these girls finding out where you live.” 

Oikawa is quiet for a moment, his brows furrowed in indecision. It seems that he makes up his mind when he turns his head to look at you. “Kiss me.”

Your step momentarily falters. 

“What?”

He shakes your intertwined hands. “We’re already holding hands. They might get the memo if we …”

“Oh.”

“I .. I mean only if you want to. You don’t have to. I just figured that .. nevermind. It’s a spotty plan. They might still not leave us alone and --”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll do it.” You weren’t going to pass up a chance at kissing him, even if it’s only for a diversion. This doesn’t seem like such a bad idea anyways — you’d long since given up on him reciprocating your feelings, and this way you can kiss him while saving yourself from the possible embarrassment of rejection. 

“You will?”

“Where’s the harm? It’s just a kiss right?” You can barely hear yourself talking over the beating of your heart. “Besides, it could work.”

Oikawa shoots you a grateful smile. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready then.”

You try to shake out your nerves and instead focus your time in looking at your surroundings. The sound of giggling is still in close range when you spot a tree nearby. It’s still pretty out in the open, but not so much that you and Oikawa might draw stares, at least not from anyone that isn’t a part of the group of girls behind you. 

Gathering enough courage to not insanely mess this up, you tug on Oikawa’s hand to drag him with you in the direction of the tree. You make sure that you’re still in the line of sight of the three girls when you snake your arms around Oikawa’s neck and pull him down. 

His lips are softer than you imagined, and you’ve imagined kissing them more times than you’re willing to admit. Pleasantly, he tastes like oranges, which you don’t quite understand, considering that you can’t seem to remember him ever being fond of oranges. But then again, you can’t quite think of anything besides the feeling of his lips on yours.

Your lips move fluidly against his, soft but not entirely without passion. It takes everything in you to not kiss him with the force that you want to be kissing him with. 

Hands come down to grip your waist as he pulls you closer to him, gently placing a hand on the small of your back. You run your hands through his hair and wonder to yourself why you hadn’t ever played with his hair before. If you ever make it out of this with your senses still intact, you’d make playing with his hair a part of your regular routine.

He makes a small noise against your lips when you make the mistake of pulling a little too hard on his hair. His grip on you tightens. 

You don’t know how long you two stand there, lips locked with each other, but Oikawa doesn’t make any move to pull away. Instead he deepens the kiss by running his tongue against your bottom lip and pulling you even closer. You stifle a noise that threatens to come from deep in your throat. One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek and tips your head so that he can slip his tongue into your mouth. He has fantastic lips, you think. 

It’s only until you feel the air in your lungs begin to dwindle that you force yourself to pull away. The kiss lasted for longer than you expected, and by the way you pant with every breath, it feels like a kiss that the rest of the world should not have been privy to. 

You keep your eyes closed for a moment more, wanting to savor the moment for just a little longer. The moment you open your eyes, you’ll have to come back to the reality that this was just a one-time thing. You’ll have to come back to reality and remember that this kiss likely doesn’t mean anything to him. 

Slowly you open your eyes, and find that Oikawa’s already staring at you intently. His breathing comes out staggered, and his eyes have turned a few shades darker. What used to be a soft chestnut brown looks almost close to black. In them, you notice a flicker of an odd emotion that looks too familiar, but you don’t want to hope for anything. 

You slide your hands down to his chest. His hands are still planted on your back and face, touching you both gently and carefully. “Did it work?” Your voice comes out small.

He seems to wake up from his trance then, and turns to look in the direction that the girls were before. You look behind you to see one of the girls running away with her head in her hands. Her two friends follow after her in an attempt to console her.

“I think it did,” he says. And what he says after is so quiet you almost believe that you imagine hearing it. “In more ways than one.”

part two will most likely be up on thursday next week :)

[kjack89]

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 13/14)

The penultimate chapter of the E/R Bridgerton AU, regency-era fake-marriage fic. In a return to form, this chapter is entirely SFW. (Chapter 1 tumblr | AO3, chapter 2 tumblr | AO3, chapter 3 tumblr | AO3, chapter 4 tumblr | AO3, chapter 5 tumblr | AO3, chapter 6 tumblr | AO3, chapter 7 tumblr | AO3, chapter 8 tumblr | AO3, chapter 9 tumblr | AO3, chapter 10 tumblr | AO3, chapter 11 tumblr | AO3, chapter 12 tumblr | AO3)

When this Author picked up the mantle left behind by the previous Lady Whistledown, it was with the intention of bringing a little levity to the otherwise long and sometimes dull proceedings that encompass the season, and to provide some color commentary that pokes fun at those otherwise generally unwilling to make light of themselves.

To that end, this Author has remarked upon and highlighted the general scandals that accompany this season as every season, the kind that serve to provide some drama to otherwise dull lives, but risk very little in terms of lasting damage.

This Author has never intended for this to cause actual harm, and as such, owes an apology to the Marquess of Enjolras and Mr. Grantaire. This Author does not dabble in morals, or legality; the sole concern of this column has been amusement, and the ruin of two gentlemen otherwise described by most who have met them as good men is something this Author cannot and will not be a part of any longer. While this Author cannot overstate that there was no prior knowledge of the truth behind the Marquess’s marriage, nonetheless the extra attention shone on it by and through this paper has brought harm, and for that, this Author is truly sorry.

While no promises can be made in regards to accidentally reporting similar in the future, this Author will certainly make every attempt to better vet sources before publishing rumor and innuendo. And the promise this Author does make is that the only additional mention of the Marquess of Enjolras or Mr. Grantaire in this paper will be for happy tidings, with best hopes for whatever they may face in the future. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 6 JUNE 1831

The summons did not arrive with the usual fanfare, so much so that Enjolras almost missed them entirely.

No gilded envelope hand stamped with the King’s own seal, no scarlet-clad guard from the palace delivering it. Just a small, plain parchment envelope instructing Enjolras to attend to His Majesty the King the following day.

In truth, he very nearly almost missed it entirely, since Porter, who normally would have brought him such things, was confined to bed for the immediate future as he recovered – and the surgeon had been quite strict in his instructions. But Grantaire, far less used to having the number of servants Enjolras did, had seen it sitting on the table in the foyer and brought it into the dining room with him when he came in for breakfast.

“This is good news,” he told Grantaire after scanning through the note, though Grantaire didn’t look convinced.

“To be summoned in front of those with the power to strip you of your titles and lands and throw you in the Tower for the rest of your days, unless they decide to chop off your head instead?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Better a meeting with the King and Queen than the constable,” he pointed out. “Besides, there’s a limit to what they can do, and if they’re intervening now, it will serve to prevent the worst from happening.” He stood to leave the breakfast table before pausing and bending to kiss the top of Grantaire’s head. “In any case, the usual death in this situation would be by hanging, not beheading.”

“Because that’s so comforting a thought,” Grantaire said sourly.

“It should be.”

Grantaire stared at him. “The thought of you being hanged instead of beheaded?”

Enjolras gave him a look. “No, that the King wants to meet with me. I’m not fool enough to think my death by anything other than old age would bring you any comfort.”

Grantaire pretended to consider it. “Going out in a blaze of glory as you attempt to bring the whole damned system to its knees might.”

“Only if you are by my side as proof that I have won you over in the end.”

Grantaire’s expression softened for a moment. “I would die by your side in an instant, but I don’t think that’s proof of anything.” He kissed Enjolras before returning to the subject at hand. “In any case, why should the King wanting to meet with you bring me any comfort whatsoever?”

“Because it means the Crown wants this handled quickly and quietly,” Enjolras said. “Meaning very likely no public trial, and almost certainly no public execution.”

“That would be more comforting without the qualifiers ‘very likely’ and ‘almost certainly’.”

Enjolras sighed. “There is very little in life that is absolutely certain besides death and taxes.”

Grantaire smirked. “And as I have heard you rail about numerous times, the certainty of taxes is not always applied evenly.”

“Do you know, that may be the most romantic thing you have ever said to me,” Enjolras said, grinning at him.

“Oh, hush,” Grantaire said, but he was laughing, and seemed, for the moment at least, to forget his concerns about Enjolras’s impending appointment with the Crown.

They resurfaced in full force the following day as Enjolras adjusted his cravat while waiting for the carriage to pull around. “How do I look?” he asked, and Grantaire cast a baleful eye at him.

“Dressed well enough for a meeting with the King and Queen, and not at all like you’re headed to imprisonment or worse.”

Enjolras managed not to roll his eyes, mostly because he did not think it would help the situation. “Luckily for both us, I highly doubt the latter options will come to pass.”

But Grantaire didn’t smile, just reaching out to take Enjolras’s hand. “Just come back to me,” he whispered.

“I have every intention of doing so,” Enjolras told him, his voice low.

Grantaire sighed. “You know I’m going to be a nervous wreck until you do,” he said. “Just like I am every time you’re in danger, even if normally you’re the idiot who’s put yourself there.”

Enjolras half-smiled. “Arguably I’ve put myself in this danger as well.”

Grantaire gave him a look. “We’ve had this argument before,” he said evenly.

“Yes, and I still refuse to cast any blame on you.”

Grantaire just shook his head. “An argument we’ll have to continue another time, it seems.”

Now Enjolras managed a real smile. “Yes, and all the more reason for me to return. You know I hate to leave a fight unfinished.”

“No, you hate to leave a fight unwon,” Grantaire said pointedly, but for the first time all morning, he looked a little less miserable, and Enjolras took that as a small win in and of itself.

“Are they not one and the same?” he asked innocently, leaning in to kiss Grantaire, who stopped him, his face falling again.

“Enjolras—” he started, and Enjolras frowned.

“What?”

Grantaire searched his expression for a moment before blurting, “I have never once wished you to be less than who you are, and I do not wish it now. The man I love does not back down from a challenge, and his tongue is sharper than any sword.” He paused as if choosing his next words carefully. “But I beg of you, tread lightly. I will not love you less for holding back if it means you survive to fight another day.”

Enjolras did kiss him then, a slow, heated kiss that said hopefully everything he couldn’t bring himself. “I cannot promise my mouth will not get me in trouble. But I do promise I will not deliberately seek it out.” Grantaire made a face and Enjolras gave him a pointed look. “It’s as good a promise as you will get from me.”

“I know.”

“And yet you don’t seem satisfied.”

Grantaire sighed. “I will be satisfied when you are home with me again.”

“And with luck, that will be before you know it,” Enjolras told him bracingly, so convincingly that he almost believed it himself, enough to get him out the door and into the carriage before finally allowing himself to feel the nerves he’d been trying to swallow all morning.

What he had told Grantaire was the truth: this meeting almost certainly meant no real punishment was in store for him.

But he had very little idea of what was in store for him. And that worried him most of all.

----------

Enjolras slowly closed the door behind him, unsurprised when Grantaire immediately appeared from the drawing room, a glass of whiskey in hand, which, judging by the glassiness of his eyes, wasn’t the first he’d had. “Are you ruined?” he asked.

“Define ruined,” Enjolras said, a little grimly.

Grantaire scowled. “Perhaps now is not the time to be glib.”

Enjolras just shook his head as he crossed to him, dropping a kiss on his lips and grabbing the glass of whiskey from his hand, downing it in one gulp. “I wasn’t,” he rasped, handing the glass back to Grantaire and making his way into the drawing room. “The fact is that there is a limit to the punishment I can receive, barring criminal conviction and without an Act of Parliament.” He collapsed onto the couch, reaching up automatically to loosen his cravat. “The Crown has taken what actions it can, which is to say, I am no longer the Viscount of Digne.”

He delivered the words solemnly, but Grantaire just blinked in response. “I did not realize that you were.”

“It is a customary title bestowed upon the current Marquess of Enjolras, with some associated lands,” Enjolras said with a shrug. “Both will be given to more deserving peers, I’m sure.” He hesitated before adding, “Also, none of our issue will be eligible to inherit my title or any lands, save for that which I own outright.”

Grantaire stared blankly at him. “Any of our issue?” he repeated. “As in children?”

Enjolras made a face. “Well, technically my issue. I don’t think the Crown cares so much about yours.” He cleared his throat. “But if I were to remarry and sire children, none of those children would inherit.”

Grantaire raised both eyebrows. “And what are the chances of that?”

“Absolutely none,” Enjolras said, barking a dry laugh. “The King has also told me that my services to his Court will no longer be necessary, meaning my various ceremonial duties will doled out to others and my power at Court, so to speak, is diminished. Beyond that, I retain my title of Marquess and associated lands and riches, which means I will lead a very comfortable life.” He reached out for Grantaire’s hand, lacing their fingers together before raising his hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “With you at my side, and without having to hide. So to answer your question, no, I don’t consider that ruin. I consider that a gift.”

Grantaire looked relieved, but he still hesitated. “Even though I will be almost certainly landless and penniless?” he asked, and when Enjolras just frowned at him, he sighed and elaborated, “I doubt highly my father will continue to grant me my allowance and use of the houses when he receives Le Cabuc’s letter.”

Enjolras squeezed his hand. “The Enjolras purse has sustained this family for generations. There’s more than enough left to take care of the man I love.”

Grantaire searched his expression for a moment. “Yet you don’t seem completely satisfied. What else did the King say?”

“Well—”

Before Enjolras could elaborate further, someone cleared her throat from the doorway, and they both turned to look at Enjolras’s mother, who looked unusually somber. “Am I interrupting?”

On instinct alone, Enjolras started to pull his hand away from Grantaire’s, but Grantaire held tight, squaring his shoulders as he met Enjolras’s mother’s expression coolly. “As a matter of fact, you are. Your son and I are having a private conversation.”

He turned back to Enjolras, who tried not to laugh at the look on his mother’s face. But to his surprise, his mother did not immediately snap some dismissive rebuttal, instead inclining her head slightly. “And you have my apologies for intruding, especially at this trying time. But I need to speak to my son, alone, especially in light of his recent visit to the palace.”

Enjolras wasn’t surprised that she had somehow heard about his summons. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of me,” Grantaire said firmly. “Your son and I are sharing our lives, and that includes dealing with whatever family affairs you’ve brought with you.” He again turned to look at her. “And need I remind you, your part in our deception has not yet been revealed, but I will be more than happy to tell anyone and everyone who will listen what drove your son to the desperation of a fake marriage in the first place. I doubt highly your friends among the nobility will be impressed by what they learn.”

Enjolras’s mother’s lips pursed, but again, Enjolras was completely thrown by her response. “Thank you,” she said simply, and Grantaire’s cold expression slipped as he glanced over at Enjolras, who just shrugged. “I can see that you are protective of my son, and while I may not appreciate your tone, I do appreciate knowing that my son has found someone who loves him as...vigorously as you clearly do.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed, but Enjolras cleared his throat. “It’s fine,” he told Grantaire, squeezing his hand once more. “I trust her enough to have a conversation with her, and I can fight my own battles as needed.”

“Are you certain?” Grantaire asked in an undertone, eyeing Enjolras’s mother warily. “I believe you can fight your own battles, but it’s her I don’t trust…”

Enjolras rolled his eyes affectionately. “I have managed this long,” he assured him. 

“Fine.” Grantaire stood, but before leaving, he bent and kissed Enjolras, a long, slow kiss that Enjolras was fairly certain was for his mother’s benefit more than his own.

Not that he minded, since getting to kiss Grantaire and enrage his mother in the same blow was as close to perfection as Enjolras was likely to see in his lifetime.

Then Grantaire straightened again and winked at Enjolras before finally leaving, sidling past his mother with little more than a second glance. For her part, his mother looked mostly impassive at the display she had just witnessed, and she finally fully entered the room, perching imperiously on the armchair. “I suppose it’s too much to hope for tea,” she said with a sniff. 

Enjolras barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. “You might have heard that my butler was attacked,” he said sourly. “I’m sorry if him being laid up recovering from being shot is inconvenient to you.”

“I did hear about Porter, yes, but that’s not to what I was referring,” she said. “Have the servants started fleeing en masse?”

“None have yet offered their resignations, if that’s what you mean,” Enjolras said.

“Of course it’s what I mean,” she snapped. “This is a tainted household now – I doubt most will want to stay. Especially as they’ve no way to ingratiate themselves with whomever the next Marquess will be.” Her lips pursed again. “Do you even know which distant relative is your heir, now that you will almost certainly never sire children of your own?”

Enjolras shrugged unconcernedly. “A third cousin, isn’t it? Lives somewhere out in the west, if memory serves.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “I’m surprised you know that.”

“You once told me all about him when I threatened to abdicate after Father died,” Enjolras said mildly. “You seemed to think it would convince me to think otherwise.”

“Clearly it did.”

Enjolras laughed dryly. “I hate to tell you, Mother, but that actually played a very small part in my decision.”

She scowled. “Perhaps you should have abdicated back then. It may have made for an easier transition for all involved.”

“Perhaps so,” Enjolras said honestly, as it wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind. “But we are well past that point now.”

“In more ways than one.” She paused, giving him a searching look. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in trying to convince you to reconsider.”

Enjolras shook his head. “None.”

His mother nodded, her expression unreadable. “Then that’s the end of it.”

Enjolras hesitated, before saying, as casually as he could manage, “You seem…decidedly less surprised by this whole situation than I would expect.”

“What precisely is there to be surprised about?” she asked.

There were any number of things that Enjolras had expected her to be either shocked or scandalized by, let alone surprised, but the look on her face stopped him. “You mean…you knew?”

“That you were…otherwise inclined?” she provided delicately. “Of course I knew. A mother always knows.” Her expression twisted. “Though I rather hoped you would grow out of it, or at least do the sensible thing and marry a woman while seeking your amusement elsewhere.”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “I’m not certain I see that as the sensible thing.”

She considered it for a moment before shrugging. “Perhaps not,” she said. “But more sensible than being stripped of your lands and titles.”

“Not all my lands, or all my titles,” Enjolras told her. “The Viscount of Digne is the only major one.”

She made a face. “No real loss there, the bishop in that area rules it with an iron fist and will probably be glad to see the backside of our family.”

Enjolras trusted her to know more about it than he did or frankly cared to. “And there’s a few minor lands that will be redistributed but for the most part, Grantaire and I have made it out unscathed.”

Again his mother made a face. “I don’t know that I would go that far—”

“I imagine you wouldn’t,” Enjolras muttered.

“—But all things considered, it could have been much worse.”

On that, at least, she was correct. “And I’m certain you’ll be glad to know that your own holdings will not be affected, nor your allowance,” he told her. “And Grantaire is letting you keep the dowry.”

That seemed to surprise her. “That is...generous of him,” she allowed, before frowning at her son. “But you speak as if all you think I care about is money.”

Enjolras just arched an eyebrow. “You have given me little evidence to suggest otherwise.”

“Caring about the well-being of my only son isn’t evidence enough?”

He managed not to roll his eyes, but just barely. “Faux sincerity isn’t your strong suit, Mother,” he informed her. “If you wish to convince me, you’ll have to try a different tack.”

To his surprise, she laughed lightly. “Maybe I will, when all the dust has settled,” she said, standing and brushing invisible dust from her skirt before telling him, “I will be leaving the city for the near future, and possibly even the country for a bit. I need my friends and allies at court to think that I was not party to this.”

“You weren’t,” Enjolras said, his brow furrowed. “And you are certainly at liberty to tell anyone you need to as such.”

“I have, and I will,” she said. “But I will also not outwardly condemn you the way they would wish, and that to some is enough to make them think otherwise.”

For the first time in what Enjolras was certain was his entire life, he was speechless. He had frankly expected her to do exactly that in order to maintain her social standing. “You could,” he blurted, ignoring the raised eyebrow she gave him. “Condemn us, I mean. I would not hold it against you if you did.”

“You and I both know that you absolutely would,” she said dryly. “But more than that, you are my son. For all your faults and all our disagreements, public and otherwise, that has never changed. And it will not change now.”

Enjolras was again taken aback by what she said. “Thank you,” he managed, before adding, a little wryly, “I think.”

A small smile crossed her face. “You’re welcome, I think. And now I should leave you to the start of your new life.”

She turned to head to the door, clearly deeming her role in this complete for the time being, but Enjolras stopped her, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What do you think of Grantaire?” he asked. “Now that you know what he is to me.”

She looked back at him, surprised. “You have never sought my approval before.”

“And I’m not seeking it now,” Enjolras said. “Just curious what you think.”

She nodded slowly. “He is not who I would have chosen for you,” she said after a long moment. “But then again, this life is not what I would have chosen for you.”

It was no more than what Enjolras had expected, but before he could say anything, she continued, “I know what you think of me, that you think me cold, and vain, and cruel. And there is certainly more than a little truth to that.” He looked up at her sharply, surprised by this most of all. “I know I shall always play the role of villain in your story. But despite what you may think, I have only ever wanted you to be happy.” She hesitated. “And it makes me terribly sad to know you have chosen a path where the world very well may never let you be happy.”

Enjolras just shook his head slowly. “The difference between you and I, Mother, is that I have never needed the approval of the world to be happy.” He gave her a sharp smile. “Hang what anyone else thinks. So long as I have Grantaire, we will make our own happiness.”

She returned his smile. “I do not doubt that you will. As I said before, you two make quite the pair, and whatever else you may think, I am glad that you two found each other.”

With that, she left, and Enjolras sat where he was for a long moment, digesting everything that had transpired. This had been a day of surprises, from his meeting with the King and Queen to now his conversation with his mother, and he shook his head slowly before standing to go find Grantaire.

He found him in the library, sitting sideways in an oversized armchair, his legs draped over the arm of the chair as he skimmed through a book with seemingly little interest. He brightened when he saw Enjolras come in, tipping his head up automatically for a kiss. “Is she gone?” he asked as Enjolras settled onto the sofa across from him.

“For now, yes.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “But not forever?”

Enjolras shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not even this scandal was enough to be rid of her forever. But I am...strangely not as bothered by that thought as I once would have been.”

Grantaire blinked. “Did she hit you on the head while she was in there with you?”

“Something like that, anyway,” Enjolras said with a laugh. “But enough about my mother. Where were we?”

He eyed Grantaire appreciatively, mentally trying to determine the mechanics of what they could do with him in that position, and Grantaire scowled. “Certainly not doing that,” he informed him, sitting upright. “You were finishing telling me about your audience with the King and Queen.”

“Oh. Right.” Enjolras shrugged and looked away. “Well, the Archbishop is apparently pushing for us to be excommunicated.”

Grantaire snorted. “Does that mean I no longer have to go to church?” he asked idly. 

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Well, among other things. But there’s an issue.”

“What’s that?”

“We could be imprisoned if we’re excommunicated, for a start.”

Grantaire just arched an eyebrow. “Just as we could be imprisoned for sodomy?”

Enjolras made a face. “The Crown has no intention of pursuing those charges,” he said. “But getting excommunicated could lend credence to future attempts at levying those charges, at likely the least opportune time.”

Grantaire considered it for a moment. “Well. We’ve faced worse prospects.”

Enjolras frowned. “You seem remarkably blasé about the prospect of excommunication, considering how concerned you’ve been about the possibility of imprisonment or worse for the other charges.”

“Mostly because you don’t seem particularly worried about it, and I imagine if this were an actual threat, you’d be somewhat less calm,” Grantaire said evenly. “Besides, I had several glasses of whiskey while you were out so it will take quite a bit for me to get riled at this point.”

“You didn’t seem to have any difficulty getting riled at my mother,” Enjolras pointed out.

Grantaire smiled grimly. “That was a more immediate danger.”

Enjolras shook his head. “Well, you’re not wrong about this not being an actual threat, I suppose. The Monarchy has little desire to create a public spectacle via excommunication and as the Head of the Church, I imagine that’s the end of the matter.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Does that mean you’re actually going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Excommunication isn’t enough?” Enjolras asked, mostly rhetorically, and when Grantaire just gave him a look, he sighed. “Fine… I need to get word to Combeferre and Courfeyrac. We have much to discuss ahead of our next meeting.”

“Are you purposefully avoiding the question, or…?”

“I promise I am not,” Enjolras said, his voice low. “But they need to know, because this concerns all of us.” He paused, trying to figure out how to word what he needed to tell both Grantaire and his closest lieutenants. “I was...as surprised as any that the King did not wish to pursue any additional punitive matters. As a whole, the punishment dealt to me is mild, to say the least. And what troubles me is the reason he gave for why.”

Grantaire frowned. “He gave you a reason?”

Enjolras barked a dry, humorless laugh. “Oh, he gave me many. Most were mere platitudes, that out of respect for the service of my father, he would take no additional measures, etcetera, but he also alluded to his hope that our...situation would not inconvenience my political work.” He cleared his throat before adding sardonically, “That he hoped our allies would not abandon us with my public declaration of depravity.”

“And you suspect he actually hopes the opposite,” Grantaire said slowly.

Enjolras nodded. “I’m not going to pretend that my political sympathies are or have ever been well-received at court, and I think most were content to look the other way and pretend that the protests and political actions were the fun side project of an otherwise bored noble. Something I would grow out of in time. But now…”

He trailed off, and Grantaire’s expression turned grim. “Now they might not be so content to look the other way.”

“No,” Enjolras agreed. “And if I or any of our number were to get arrested—”

“Arrested again, you mean,” Grantaire said with the hint of a smile that Enjolras did not return.

“—My position is no longer enough to stave off any significant consequences.” 

Grantaire went very still. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning I may not be ruined. We may not be ruined. But Les Amis may be.”

----------

In lieu of coming over to Enjolras’s to discuss the situation, Combeferre suggested via return message that they call a special meeting of Les Amis. “That seems unusual,” Grantaire murmured, his brow furrowed as he read over the brief message. “Why would they not just come here?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Perhaps they don’t want to be seen entering a den of sin,” he said, more blithely than he remotely felt.

“Jest all you wish, but you cannot pretend the thought hasn’t entered your mind,” Grantaire said. “Not that I believe any of our friends will turn on us entirely, but they are all trying to make marriages of their own, and to be tainted by association…”

He trailed off, and Enjolras just shook his head. “That is their prerogative, and I will not hold it against any man to abide by his conscience.”

“Or by the prospect of increasing his purse?” Grantaire asked sourly.

Enjolras shrugged again. “If that is truly their reasoning, I doubt highly we would be associates for much longer in any case.”

Still, it was with an unusual amount of trepidation that they approached the Musain, and Enjolras hesitated before instructing his driver to drop them off at the back of the building by the worker’s entrance. “I do not doubt they would still receive us at the front entrance,” he told Grantaire. “I am, after all, still a marquess and a certain amount of respect must be paid. But I would rather not put them in that position all the same.”

Grantaire managed a wan smile. “You need not explain yourself to me,” he said. “I understand as well as any that the situation is complicated.”

Enjolras glanced at him. “Speaking of,” he said carefully, “have you heard yet from your father?”

“No.” Grantaire’s tone was clipped as he avoided meeting Enjolras’s eyes, looking out the carriage window instead. “I have not heard from him one way or another, so I have no indication if he has yet received Le Cabuc’s letter.”

“Could Le Cabuc have been bluffing?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Anything’s possible, but I doubt it,” he said. “He always did prefer my father to me.” He hesitated before adding, “I thought I might make a preemptive trip back to the house and gather some belongings. Just some personal effects, and things from my mother and sister that I would rather not lose to my father’s whims.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “That is probably not a terrible idea.” He hesitated before asking, “Do you wish for me to accompany you?”

“I suspect that would cause more problems than it’s worth,” Grantaire said. “If I go by myself, I can hopefully slip in and out mostly unnoticed.”

Enjolras had expected that answer, but he couldn’t pretend that it didn’t sting, just a little. “Of course.”

Something of what he was feeling must’ve shown on his face, but Grantaire’s expression softened as he added, “Which doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t love for you to return with me, or that I won’t miss you dreadfully while I’m gone.”

“But this is the reality of the life we’ve chosen,” Enjolras said heavily. “Going in the servants’ entrance to avoid being seen. Travelling incognito to not cause a scene. Less visitors or invitations to visit because people won’t wish to be associated with us.”

Grantaire eyed him warily. “I feel as though you are trying to make a point.”

Enjolras shrugged. “Just that I do not care about any of those things. But I would understand if you did, and if the reality of our life together does not align with what you may otherwise have expected.”

To his surprise, Grantaire laughed. “How many times must you and I have this conversation?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I wish that you had chosen a better life for yourself than one stuck with me, who was always titleless and is about to be in short order landless and penniless to boot, just as you wish I had chosen a better life for myself,” Grantaire said, a little impatiently. “But you and I both know that the best choice, the only choice, is each other and whatever accompanies that.”

Enjolras laughed as well, feeling a little relieved that they were on the same page in terms of what mattered. “You’re right.”

“I usually am,” Grantaire said smugly before reaching for Enjolras’s hand and lacing their fingers together. Une vie et un amour, remember?”

“Fidelitas usque ad mortem,” Enjolras said, his voice low, and Grantaire smiled.

“And I still aim to be.”

Together, they stepped down from the carriage and made their way into the Musain through the backdoor. The workers they passed barely gave them second glances, though Enjolras assumed that was likely because they recognized them as frequent patrons, and knew better than to stop or question them.

But despite arriving almost a half hour before the meeting Combeferre had called was set to begin, when they reached the backroom, they could hear the buzz of voices through the closed door. Grantaire gave him a startled look. “Has the meeting already begun?”

“It certainly appears that way,” Enjolras said, feeling inexplicably nervous as he stared at the closed door, straining to hear what was being said beyond it.

“Did Combeferre not say that it would start at 9?”

Enjolras nodded. “He did, but…” He trailed off, not willing to vocalize his doubts. Instead, he squared his shoulders and opened the door, walking in with Grantaire at his side. Combeferre and Courfeyrac stood at the front of the room, the rest of their number assembled, all looking unusually somber, and all conversation stalled as soon as they looked back at Enjolras. “Forgive the interruption,” Enjolras said coolly, closing the door behind him. “I did not realize the hour of our meeting had changed.”

“It didn’t,” Combeferre said, his expression impassive. “But there was certain business we felt we should attend to before your arrival.”

“What sort of business?” Grantaire asked with a frown.

Combeferre did not seem deterred by his tone. “The business of determining if your continued membership amongst our association is beneficial or a detriment, mostly.”

“I see,” Enjolras said, his heart sinking in his chest. “Well, don’t let us impede your discussion.”

“We have nothing left to discuss,” Courfeyrac interjected. “All that remains is to vote.”

Grantaire reached out and took Enjolras’s hand, lacing their fingers together firmly. Combeferre cleared his throat. “All those in favor of expelling Enjolras and Grantaire from our number due to their sexual deviance and the threat that it poses to Les Amis and our efforts?”

Not a single hand rose in the air, and Grantaire squeezed Enjolras’s hand.

“And all those opposed?”

As one, all of their friends raised their hands before standing and applauding. Joly and Bossuet were positively beaming, Courfeyrac wolf-whistled, and Combeferre stepped forward to embrace Enjolras. “There was never any doubt which way the vote would go,” he told Enjolras, “but I knew you would not be satisfied if there was no vote at all.”

“Besides, if we start exiling people for buggery, there are more than a few of us who would be in trouble,” Courfeyrac said cheerfully as he embraced Enjolras as well.

“Hear, hear,” Bahorel chortled.

Joly took Bossuet’s hand and squeezed it. “Grantaire helped us avoid a scandal of our own, and we owe him our loyalty,” he said. “Besides which, I swore to go through fire for you, and I would not forsake that oath lightly.”

“Thank you, my friends,” Enjolras said quietly, his chest tight with emotion.

Grantaire squeezed his hand once more before leaning in and whispering in his ear, “It appears I am not the only one who understands the meaning of loyalty until death.” Enjolras wordlessly squeezed his hand in return and Grantaire smiled at him before asking Courfeyrac, “But one of our number is missing, is he not? Where is your erstwhile roommate this evening?”

“Oh, he has found the girl he was looking for,” Courfeyrac said airily. “It turns out your little announcement was good for more than one thing – she was the one who swooned in his arms!”

Much laughter greeted that announcement and Enjolras shook his head. “Leave it to Marius…” he started before trailing off, glancing around the room at the smiling faces of each of his friends, all those whom he loved most in this world. “Thank you all,” he said softly. “I know this will not be easy, but I appreciate your continued faith and love.”

“Our goal has always been to fight against oppressive powers in whatever form,” Combeferre told him. “And condemning men based on consensual acts in their bed chamber would be playing into that oppression.”

“Just promise us one thing,” Bossuet interjected.

Enjolras raised both eyebrows. “What’s what?”

“No funny business,” Bossuet said, mock-sternly. “No suddenly agreeing with everything the other says just because it’s your lover saying it.”

Again everyone laughed and Enjolras shook his head good-naturedly. “I don’t think we’re in much danger of that.”

“After all,” Grantaire added slyly, “what I love far more than him agreeing with me is that delightful shade of red he gets when he so vehemently disagrees with me. Who am I to give that up now?”

“In truth,” Enjolras said when the laughter again died down, “we aim to keep things as much the same as we can.” 

“And we’ll be relying on you lot to keep it that way,” Grantaire said. 

“There’s one other promise we would ask,” Feuilly said, glancing around. “Or at least, that I would ask.”

Enjolras’s smile faded, just slightly, at Feuilly’s far more serious tone. “If it is in our power to grant it, we will.”

“No more lies.” There were a few murmurs of agreement that Feuilly waited to die down before continuing, “There is not a man among us who does not understand the reason for your deception, but we in this room are brothers, and we deserve the truth no matter what consequence it may bring.”

Grantaire took Enjolras’s hand once more and squeezed it before affirming, “No more lies. We owe not just you the truth from here on out, but each other as well. And it’s the very least that we can give in return for your generosity and personal sacrifices.”

“In that case, let us open the wine and get the celebration started,” Jehan called, standing up on his chair to be seen. “To Enjolras and Grantaire!”

“To Enjolras and Grantaire!” everyone repeated, whatever glasses they had in hand, and Enjolras rolled his eyes with obvious affection before leaning in and kissing Grantaire as everyone cheered.

Grantaire was grinning as he pulled away, and that sight alone was enough to make everything they had endured and everything that they had left to endure absolutely worth it in Enjolras’s opinion. But before he could say anything to that effect to Grantaire, Joly and Bossuet grabbed Grantaire by both arms, tugging him away. “You owe us more than mere truth,” Joly said, with an almost evil grin. “You owe us details.”

“Exactly,” Bossuet said, wearing a matching smile. “And we want to hear all about your first time bedding Enjolras.”

“We promised the truth, not all the gory details,” Grantaire protested, making a pleading face at Enjolras, who just laughed. 

Before he could rescue him, Combeferre pulled him aside. “I wanted a moment, if it is not too much of an imposition.”

Enjolras clapped him on the shoulder. “For you, my friend, never. Especially as I believe I owe you especially an apology for our deceit.”

Combeferre shook his head. “I understand it more now,” he said. “And honestly, I’m surprised I did not put the pieces together earlier.”

“Grantaire said he was always a little obvious, even if I never noticed either,” Enjolras said good-naturedly.

But Combeferre just shook his head. “Grantaire may have been, but it’s you I should have noticed.”

“Me?”

Combeferre shrugged. “Looking back on it, all the clues were there, least of all how you allowed Grantaire to stay, not just for meetings, but well into the night when you were ostensibly working, a privilege bestowed on no one else. And I cannot help but think that if I had noticed sooner, we would have had more time to plan, to minimize the fallout.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “My friend, you could have told me until you were blue in the face that I was completely and obviously in love with Grantaire, and I would never have believed you,” he said. “It was something I needed to figure out with him.” He made a face. “Though you are right that I should have told you sooner, before we made our announcement, so that plans could have been made in advance, and for that, I do owe you an apology.”

“One that I readily accept,” Combeferre told him. “And the only recompense I ask from you is the answer to this: are you happy?”

“Yes,” Enjolras said, without even needing to consider it. “More so than I thought was possible, or at least probable.”

Combeferre gave him a wide, genuine smile. “Then the rest we will deal with when or if the time comes.”

Again, Enjolras’s chest felt tight with emotion, with the weight of how much his friends cared for him and Grantaire. “I truly do not know how to thank you, how to thank everyone, for what you have given Grantaire and myself.”

“There is no need to thank us,” Combeferre said. “Especially since you have given us something equally precious.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are free,” Combeferre said simply. “And that gives the rest of us hope.”

----------

Enjolras let out a sigh of relief mingled with happiness as he sat down in the waiting carriage. Grantaire clambered in after him, and sat down on the bench next to him instead of sitting across from him. “That went well.”

“That went far better than well,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire glanced sideways at him. “Surely you did not expect Combeferre or Courfeyrac to abandon you, or honestly any of our friends.”

Enjolras just shrugged. “In truth, I did not know what to expect.” He nudged Grantaire gently. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Whatever for?”

“For making my life complete,” Enjolras said honestly. “And so completely happy.”

Grantaire smiled at him, his eyes shining even in the dim light of the carriage, but he promptly ruined the moment by asking, “How much wine did you drink?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I had half a glass at best,” he protested. “Not nearly enough to undermine my sincerity. Nor my conviction that somehow, against all odds and, frankly, against our own efforts to the contrary, everything for us is turning out better than I ever could have imagined, let alone hoped.”

Grantaire rested his head against Enjolras’s shoulder. “We have been extraordinarily lucky,” he murmured.

“We have been,” Enjolras agreed, squeezing Grantaire’s hand. “We have our friends, and we have each other. Whatever else comes our way, so long as we still have that, we will be fine.”

“More than fine,” Grantaire corrected, raising Enjolras’s hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “Our future will be happy. Of that, I am as certain as anything.”

“Being in love really has changed you if you suddenly start espousing convictions,” Enjolras teased.

But Grantaire just smiled at him. “It’s changed us both.”

“For the better?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire kissed him, a gentle, sweet kiss that was a promise of more to come. “For the best.”