For@hippiesthop, who requested unrequited military Enjolras/Grantaire, and who made the mistake of saying, and I quote, “do with that whatever you want.”
And what I want is angst, character death, and a Top Gun AU.
Top Gun AU, though you really don’t need to have seen the movie to get this, unrequited ExR, requited and established Joly x Bossuet, major character death. #sorrynotsorry
On March 3, 1969, the United States Navy established an elite school for the top one percent of its pilots. Its purpose was to teach the lost art of aerial combat and to ensure that the handful of men and women who graduated were the best fighter pilots in the world.
Today, the Navy calls it Fighter Weapons School. The flyers call it: Top Gun.
Grantaire grinned as he sauntered into the bar right outside of Naval Air Station Miramar in San Diego, California. “Now this is what I call a target rich environment,” he said, adjusting the shoulder boards on his Summer Whites and winking at his balding companion, Bossuet, who grinned and rolled his eyes.
“You live your life between your legs, Lib,” Bossuet said, referring to Grantaire by the shortened version of his call sign as they walked to the bar, and he gestured for the bartender to bring them two beers, “when you should be more concerned about starting Top Gun tomorrow.”
Grantaire didn’t deny the charge, his grin turning smug as he lounged on the bar stool, surveying the numerous attractive men and women scattered throughout the busy bar, the majority of the patrons being fellow Navy officers and enlisted servicemembers. “Eagle, even you could get laid in a place like this,” he told Bossuet, calling him by his call sign as well.
Grantaire eyed Enjolras as he gathered their empty popcorn bucket and drinks. “So what did you think?”
Enjolras didn’t look up. “Are the fanboys cleared out?” he asked wryly. “I don’t want to start an altercation.”
“Since when?” Enjolras laughed and Grantaire smiled before saying, “I’ll take it you didn’t like it.”
Enjolras made a face as he stood, waiting for Grantaire to exit the movie theater aisle first before following after him. “Well, when it comes to the multiverse, it was no Everything Everywhere All at Once.”
Grantaire gave him a look over his shoulder. “Ok, but that’s like comparing My Cousin VinnytoThe Godfather.”
“My Cousin Vinny isn’t even a mob movie!” Enjolras protested, throwing their trash in the garbage can. “It just happens to feature Italian Americans.”
“Yeah and Dr. Strange isn’t a movie about intergenerational trauma, now is it?”
Grantaire gave Enjolras a pointed look and Enjolras rolled his eyes, even though he was laughing again. “Touché.”
Together they walked towards the theater exit, and Grantaire glanced sideways at Enjolras. “So you really didn’t like it?”
Enjolras sighed. “You know that I only come to see Marvel movies with you so that I understand the references you make as nauseam, right?”
“Which is in and of itself a strange way to show love, but an appreciated one,” Grantaire said, nodding. He really hadn’t expected anything different. Pretty much the only Marvel movie Enjolras had ever expressed interest in was Black Panther, though even then his interest had waned when he realized it featured very little about the actual Black Panther Party in the US. “What do you think about the multiverse?”
Enjolras frowned slightly as he looked at Grantaire. “What about the multiverse?”
“Do you believe in it?”
Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “Do you mean do I think that there are multiple universes in which we exist simultaneously, some differing only minutely and some where we have hot dogs for hands?”
Grantaire half-smiled at the reference to one of his personal favorite universes from Everything Everywhere All at Once. “Something like that.”
For a long moment, Enjolras was quiet. “I find it interesting that you’re asking me if I believe in something,” he said finally.
“Just because I’m asking doesn’t mean that I do,” Grantaire said. “And you’re deflecting.”
Enjolras smiled, but it was short-lived, his smile fading slightly as he shook his head. “The truth is, I don’t know what I believe. But I’d like to think that if there was a multiverse, it’d be more like Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. Less an exact replica of myself in every universe and more a mantle of the work I do that someone always shoulders.”
Grantaire snorted. “Are you seriously comparing your activism work to being a superhero?”
“Am I wrong?” Enjolras asked, a dangerous edge to his voice.
Grantaire held his hands up defensively. “I plead the Fifth.”
“Good boy.” Enjolras hesitated before asking, “What about you? What do you believe?”
Grantaire shrugged. “I dunno,” he said. “But I have to admit, the thought of there being a me that loves a version of you in every universe gives me a strange sort of comfort.”
Enjolras looked startled. “You think you would love me in every universe?”
“I know that I would love you in every universe,” Grantaire corrected.
Enjolras looked at him closely for a moment before asking with a small, half-smile, “Even the one with the hot dog hands?”
“Especially the one with the hot dog hands.”
Enjolras just shook his head. “You’re a freak,” he said affectionately.
Grantaire nudged him with his elbow. “Yeah but you like it.”
Enjolras shook his head fondly. “So you know that you would love me in every universe…do you think I would also love you in every universe?”
“Of course not,” Grantaire said evenly.
Enjolras stopped walking, his brow furrowed. “And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Why would it?” Grantaire asked. “I don’t need you to love me back to feel like I’m where I’m meant to be.” Enjolras shook his head but Grantaire didn’t let him interrupt. “When I met you, my entire life fell into place, and that wouldn’t have changed if you never went out with me.”
Though Enjolras’s expression softened, he still didn’t look convinced. “I guess that’s fair,” he allowed. “But it makes me a little sad, thinking there’s a me out there somewhere going through his life without loving you.”
Grantaire leaned in to kiss his cheek before telling him, “Yeah but think about it this way: if there are infinite universes, then there is infinite possibility, and infinite chances for us. And that’s not a bad thing.”
Enjolras nodded slowly. “No, it’s not.”
“Even if we have hot dog hands in one of those universes.”
Enjolras rolled his eyes, but he was smiling again. “Even then,” he agreed.
“Besides, we have each other here, in this universe, and that’s enough for me,” Grantaire said simply. “Even if in every other universe, we never figure it out in time, we’ll always have this universe.”
Enjolras smiled and laced their fingers together, raising Grantaire’s hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “And that’s all that matters.”
Pretty much the only Marvel movie Enjolras had ever expressed interest in was Black Panther, though even then his interest had waned when he realized it featured very little about the actual Black Panther Party in the US.
NO BUT HE WOULD
this was so precious and adorable and your writing is a gift in every universe <3
I’ve seen a lot of posts recently reminding readers to leave feedback on fics, which is great!! Writers deserve all the love they can get. Likes, reblogs, comments, messages, these are the lifeblood of writers. They are proof that people are reading, that they’re enjoying, and that they want more.
But maybe readers don’t know what to say. Maybe you’re new to Tumblr, new to reading fan fiction, shy, or just not sure how to say what you want to say.
Let me start by saying, no matter how popular the blog or how cool you think they are, everyone loves a compliment. If you’re worried about sounding silly or bothering people, let me assure you- a message will make your writer do a happy dance (depending on the writer, they mayactually get up and dance. I have.)
Here’s the basic ways of communicating with writers on Tumblr:
Likes and kudos- these are great, they’re the high-fives in this world. They’re the “hey, nice” nod. Reblogs- even better, because they mean exposure. More people see the story and that makes us really happy. A reblog with a comment isamazing, especially one that entices others to read. These make a writer’s day. Comments and messages- these are the thing that keeps us going. Most of us have anon turned on- and if we don’t, just let us know you want a private reply. (And, if your writer has anon off, it probably means they’ve been getting hate and deserve extra love.) Recommendations- recs are like coming in to work to find someone baked your favorite cake and left it on your desk. Recommendations make your writer feel so loved and valued!
So, that’s all good, but what do you actually SAY to writers? It doesn’t have to be much or take a lot of time.
A simple “This is great/funny/hot!” is wonderful. "Best fic I’ve read this week!“ "Funny as hell and cute too.” "You have to read this, it’s awesome!“ "I can’t wait for more of this.” "I hope you keep going!“ These are great in reblogs and in messages.
Even better is specific feedback. Welove specific feedback, because it tells us what readers liked and what they didn’t. Want to influence our next fic? Tell us what you liked about this one and I bet you it will keep showing up! Specific feedback is just telling the writer what you liked. It doesn’t have to be long or complicated, either. (But if you write a lot, we will love you so much.)
Was there a character you liked? Talk about them: "I love how you wrote X” “Y was so funny!” "OMG I wanted to STRANGLE Q!“ "You can really feel X’s frustration.” "Y has so much depth, they’re a really well-rounded character.“ "R says so much with so few words, it’s amazing.”
What about a part or line you enjoyed? "That bit in the park- LOVE IT.“ "I have never read a better description of a cup of tea.” "The way you wrote about his fear, that was heartbreaking.“
Was there a part that made you feel something? Happy, sad, angry? "That last sentence killed me, he’s so broken.” "I wanted to jump around when they finally kissed!“ "This chapter was so tense, my heart was pounding by the end.”
Did the characters or plot or setting remind you of your life? "I live in Brussels, that’s just how that street looks.“ "When Y talked about R, I knew exactly how he felt.” "You captured that lost, aimless feeling perfectly; I’ve so been there.“
Are there unanswered questions? Mention how much you want the answers. "I can’t wait to find out what’s in the basket!” "That was a cliffhanger ending, wow.“ "How is she going to explain THAT?” (some writers are touchy about predicting, though, so stay away from “I bet he’ll throw that letter out.” or “X is clearly coming back.”)
A few closing notes: be enthusiastic if that’s your style, go crazy with exclamation marks, smileys, caps! Tell a writer if you’re rereading their work- very little makes us happier than knowing our writing has the staying power for a second, third, sixth, tenth read. Did a reread give you a new insight or feeling about the fic? Tell us! We will be so excited to hear. And remember, recommendations are wonderful- putting up a random post tagging your favorite writers or fics you’re enjoying will show the writers that they’re writing is more than a flash in the opan and they’ll get some new readers too!
We can’t do this writing thing without you guys. So thank you so much! Without readers, we’re just talking to ourselves. We love and appreciate you for reading- but we need to know you’re doing it. We need feedback like we need air. Don’t let your favorite writers suffocate! :)
We have finally reached the end of our lovely little reality show. Thanks to everyone who’s read and encouraged this nonsense along the way!
E/R, Modern AU, Love is Blind AU (bad reality TV AU for anyone unfamiliar with the source show).Established relationship at this point, but like. Still a speedrun.
First, our couples fell in love in the pods, sight unseen. Then they made their connections physical in Mexico before confronting reality back home. Now, there’s just days left before they’re at their weddings, facing the toughest choice they’ve ever had to make.
Will they commit to spending their life with the person they fell in love with in the pods? Or will they part ways forever?
Is love truly blind?
On this final episode of Love is Blind, we’re about to find out.
Enjolras smoothed a hand down the front of his tux jacket and frowned at his reflection in the mirror before poking his head out of the dressing room curtain. “Are you ready?” he asked, a little impatiently, and not just because the idea of trying on clothes, let alone trying on clothes with a three-person camera crew in tow, was one of his least favorite activities.
The curtain in front of Grantaire’s dressing room twitched. “Give me a moment,” Grantaire said, sounding amused. “You can’t rush perfection.”
Grantaire eyed Enjolras as he gathered their empty popcorn bucket and drinks. “So what did you think?”
Enjolras didn’t look up. “Are the fanboys cleared out?” he asked wryly. “I don’t want to start an altercation.”
“Since when?” Enjolras laughed and Grantaire smiled before saying, “I’ll take it you didn’t like it.”
Enjolras made a face as he stood, waiting for Grantaire to exit the movie theater aisle first before following after him. “Well, when it comes to the multiverse, it was no Everything Everywhere All at Once.”
Grantaire gave him a look over his shoulder. “Ok, but that’s like comparing My Cousin VinnytoThe Godfather.”
“My Cousin Vinny isn’t even a mob movie!” Enjolras protested, throwing their trash in the garbage can. “It just happens to feature Italian Americans.”
“Yeah and Dr. Strange isn’t a movie about intergenerational trauma, now is it?”
Grantaire gave Enjolras a pointed look and Enjolras rolled his eyes, even though he was laughing again. “Touché.”
Together they walked towards the theater exit, and Grantaire glanced sideways at Enjolras. “So you really didn’t like it?”
Enjolras sighed. “You know that I only come to see Marvel movies with you so that I understand the references you make as nauseam, right?”
“Which is in and of itself a strange way to show love, but an appreciated one,” Grantaire said, nodding. He really hadn’t expected anything different. Pretty much the only Marvel movie Enjolras had ever expressed interest in was Black Panther, though even then his interest had waned when he realized it featured very little about the actual Black Panther Party in the US. “What do you think about the multiverse?”
Enjolras frowned slightly as he looked at Grantaire. “What about the multiverse?”
“Do you believe in it?”
Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “Do you mean do I think that there are multiple universes in which we exist simultaneously, some differing only minutely and some where we have hot dogs for hands?”
Grantaire half-smiled at the reference to one of his personal favorite universes from Everything Everywhere All at Once. “Something like that.”
For a long moment, Enjolras was quiet. “I find it interesting that you’re asking me if I believe in something,” he said finally.
“Just because I’m asking doesn’t mean that I do,” Grantaire said. “And you’re deflecting.”
Enjolras smiled, but it was short-lived, his smile fading slightly as he shook his head. “The truth is, I don’t know what I believe. But I’d like to think that if there was a multiverse, it’d be more like Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. Less an exact replica of myself in every universe and more a mantle of the work I do that someone always shoulders.”
Grantaire snorted. “Are you seriously comparing your activism work to being a superhero?”
“Am I wrong?” Enjolras asked, a dangerous edge to his voice.
Grantaire held his hands up defensively. “I plead the Fifth.”
“Good boy.” Enjolras hesitated before asking, “What about you? What do you believe?”
Grantaire shrugged. “I dunno,” he said. “But I have to admit, the thought of there being a me that loves a version of you in every universe gives me a strange sort of comfort.”
Enjolras looked startled. “You think you would love me in every universe?”
“I know that I would love you in every universe,” Grantaire corrected.
Enjolras looked at him closely for a moment before asking with a small, half-smile, “Even the one with the hot dog hands?”
“Especially the one with the hot dog hands.”
Enjolras just shook his head. “You’re a freak,” he said affectionately.
Grantaire nudged him with his elbow. “Yeah but you like it.”
Enjolras shook his head fondly. “So you know that you would love me in every universe…do you think I would also love you in every universe?”
“Of course not,” Grantaire said evenly.
Enjolras stopped walking, his brow furrowed. “And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Why would it?” Grantaire asked. “I don’t need you to love me back to feel like I’m where I’m meant to be.” Enjolras shook his head but Grantaire didn’t let him interrupt. “When I met you, my entire life fell into place, and that wouldn’t have changed if you never went out with me.”
Though Enjolras’s expression softened, he still didn’t look convinced. “I guess that’s fair,” he allowed. “But it makes me a little sad, thinking there’s a me out there somewhere going through his life without loving you.”
Grantaire leaned in to kiss his cheek before telling him, “Yeah but think about it this way: if there are infinite universes, then there is infinite possibility, and infinite chances for us. And that’s not a bad thing.”
Enjolras nodded slowly. “No, it’s not.”
“Even if we have hot dog hands in one of those universes.”
Enjolras rolled his eyes, but he was smiling again. “Even then,” he agreed.
“Besides, we have each other here, in this universe, and that’s enough for me,” Grantaire said simply. “Even if in every other universe, we never figure it out in time, we’ll always have this universe.”
Enjolras smiled and laced their fingers together, raising Grantaire’s hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “And that’s all that matters.”
My submission for 2022’s @lesmissamepromptficchallenge. This year we’re keeping it simple: E/R, modern AU, fake marriage. Because why not.
“Hey, asshole,” Combeferre called over the din in the backroom of the Musain, where everyone was beginning to gather ahead of that evening’s Les Amis meeting. Jehan, Feuilly, and Bahorel all looked up, guilty looks on their faces, and Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Not you,” he huffed, brushing past them to stop in front of Grantaire. “When the hell are you going to change your address so that you stop getting all of your mail delivered to my apartment?”
Grantaire leaned back in his chair, grinning. “That depends,” he said mildly, taking a sip of whiskey. “When is my apartment going to stop being so shitty that it refuses to be serviced by even the intrepid USPS?”
Combeferre rolled his eyes and shoved a stack of mail at him. “You’re just lucky I check it,” he informed him. “Because there’s something in there that looks serious.”
Grantaire’s smile flickered. “If it’s from my bank—” he started, but Combeferre shook his head.
My submission for 2022’s @lesmissamepromptficchallenge. This year we’re keeping it simple: E/R, modern AU, fake marriage. Because why not.
“Hey, asshole,” Combeferre called over the din in the backroom of the Musain, where everyone was beginning to gather ahead of that evening’s Les Amis meeting. Jehan, Feuilly, and Bahorel all looked up, guilty looks on their faces, and Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Not you,” he huffed, brushing past them to stop in front of Grantaire. “When the hell are you going to change your address so that you stop getting all of your mail delivered to my apartment?”
Grantaire leaned back in his chair, grinning. “That depends,” he said mildly, taking a sip of whiskey. “When is my apartment going to stop being so shitty that it refuses to be serviced by even the intrepid USPS?”
Combeferre rolled his eyes and shoved a stack of mail at him. “You’re just lucky I check it,” he informed him. “Because there’s something in there that looks serious.”
Grantaire’s smile flickered. “If it’s from my bank—” he started, but Combeferre shook his head.
Knowing a fic author through AO3 is like attending someone’s thesis presentation and politely clapping at the end, knowing a fic author through this hellsite is like going over to their house at 3AM to watch them eat mayonnaise out of a jar
Sometimes I attend somebody’s thesis presentation and I’m so impressed that I follow them home to watch them eat mayonnaise out of a jar at 3am.
Sometimes I watch someone eat mayonnaise out of a jar at 3am with such fervour I am compelled to attend their thesis presentation
This thing just continues to be the beast that will not end.
E/R, Modern AU, Love is Blind AU (bad reality TV AU for anyone unfamiliar with the source show). Established relationship at this point, but like. Still a speedrun.
In our blind love experiment, our couples chose each other, sight unseen. They fell in love, and then they got engaged to the person who is now their fiancé, before ever seeing one another.
In Mexico, they had an amazing opportunity to begin to grow their emotional connection into a physical one. But now it’s time to leave paradis and start building their lives together. Each of our couples will move into a new home, a neutral space for them to deepen their relationships.
In the real world, their love is going to be put to the test. How are they going to integrate their lives? Their friends, families, careers, homes? With their devices back and their weddings just three weeks away, will they allow the opinion of family and friends, the allure of other people, the distractions of social media, to sabotage their weddings and their happiness?
Will they judge one another for their looks, their race, their age, their family, or their circumstances? Will any of that really matter? Or will love be enough? Ultimately, that is what they will decide in front of their friends and families: will they say ‘I do’ to the person they chose sight unseen? Or will they walk away from them forever?
Is love truly blind?
We hope that they prove it is.
Grantaire let out a low whistle as he glanced around the living room of their new apartment. “So this is it,” he said, dropping his bag on the floor. “The new place.”
Enjolras followed suit, setting his bag next to Grantaire’s, before wrapping an arm around Grantaire’s waist and kissing his cheek. “Welcome home.”
Grantaire rested his head against Enjolras’s shoulder. “Do you think we’re like Jack and Rose?”
Enjolras didn’t look up from his phone. “Jack and who?”
“Jack and Rose,” Grantaire repeated, and when Enjolras didn’t answer, he added helpfully, “Like from Titanic.”
Now Enjolras did look up, and even though Grantaire couldn’t see him from his angle, he could hear the scowl in his voice. “Why in the name of all that is holy—”
“It was just the anniversary of the sinking!” Grantaire said with a laugh. “And so Joly, Bossuet and I got stoned and watched the movie.”
Enjolras sighed. “I should have known.” He kissed the top of Grantaire’s head before asking, “So are you Kate Winslet or Leo in whatever scenario you’ve cooked up in your head?”
Grantaire sat up, frowning. “That’s not a fair question. I’m not as hot as Leo and your tits aren’t nearly as magnificent as Kate Winslet’s.”
“I’ll allow it.”
Grantaire cleared his throat. “Anyway, where I was really going with this is that you were born with a silver spoon—”
“Gold-plated stainless steel, if you want to be specific,” Enjolras murmured.
“—shoved all the way up your ass, and I’m just a lower class kid from the street who got in your pants by drawing you.”
Enjolras snorted. “Firstly, you grew up thoroughly middle class and your poverty is mostly of your own making.”
“Harsh, but fair.”
“Secondly,” Enjolras continued, “you didn’t get in my pants by drawing me. You got invited to join Les Amis by drawing me in a political cartoon that we used for advertising. It took several more years for you to get into my pants, and I don’t recall much drawing being involved.”
Grantaire smirked. “Well maybe not with a pencil, but if I need to remind you what I can do with my tongue—”
“Does this Titanic-related metaphor of yours have a point?” Enjolras interrupted, his voice slightly higher-pitched than usual.
Grantaire just shrugged. “Mostly that I thought it would be a good backdoor into asking you to let me draw you naked.”
“No.”
If Grantaire was disappointed, he didn’t show it. “You say that now, but you know you’re dying to say it.”
Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Say what?”
Grantaire leaned in so that his lips brushed against Enjolras’s ear as he whispered, “Draw me like one of your French girls.”
Enjolras laughed, pushing him away. “Absolutely not.”
“Shame,” Grantaire said, laughing as well. “Figured it couldn’t hurt to ask, though.”
Enjolras shook his head affectionately, and picked his phone up again. “For the record,” he said casually, “if you were Jack, and I was Rose, we’d either both find a way to be on that door, or we’d both freeze to death together.”
Grantaire blinked. “Really?”
Enjolras glanced up at him. “You jump, I jump, remember?”
A slow smile spread across Grantaire’s face. “You saying you’d die for me?”
Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I’m saying I’d rather die with you than live without you.”
But Grantaire didn’t seem to have heard him. “You’d die for me,” he said, beaming.
“Only you would find that romantic,” Enjolras murmured. “I, for one, would much rather we live for each other than die for each other.”
Grantaire rested his head against Enjolras’s shoulder, still smiling. “I already do.”
Grantaire rested his head against Enjolras’s shoulder. “Do you think we’re like Jack and Rose?”
Enjolras didn’t look up from his phone. “Jack and who?”
“Jack and Rose,” Grantaire repeated, and when Enjolras didn’t answer, he added helpfully, “Like from Titanic.”
Now Enjolras did look up, and even though Grantaire couldn’t see him from his angle, he could hear the scowl in his voice. “Why in the name of all that is holy—”
“It was just the anniversary of the sinking!” Grantaire said with a laugh. “And so Joly, Bossuet and I got stoned and watched the movie.”
Enjolras sighed. “I should have known.” He kissed the top of Grantaire’s head before asking, “So are you Kate Winslet or Leo in whatever scenario you’ve cooked up in your head?”
Grantaire sat up, frowning. “That’s not a fair question. I’m not as hot as Leo and your tits aren’t nearly as magnificent as Kate Winslet’s.”
“I’ll allow it.”
Grantaire cleared his throat. “Anyway, where I was really going with this is that you were born with a silver spoon—”
“Gold-plated stainless steel, if you want to be specific,” Enjolras murmured.
“—shoved all the way up your ass, and I’m just a lower class kid from the street who got in your pants by drawing you.”
Enjolras snorted. “Firstly, you grew up thoroughly middle class and your poverty is mostly of your own making.”
“Harsh, but fair.”
“Secondly,” Enjolras continued, “you didn’t get in my pants by drawing me. You got invited to join Les Amis by drawing me in a political cartoon that we used for advertising. It took several more years for you to get into my pants, and I don’t recall much drawing being involved.”
Grantaire smirked. “Well maybe not with a pencil, but if I need to remind you what I can do with my tongue—”
“Does this Titanic-related metaphor of yours have a point?” Enjolras interrupted, his voice slightly higher-pitched than usual.
Grantaire just shrugged. “Mostly that I thought it would be a good backdoor into asking you to let me draw you naked.”
“No.”
If Grantaire was disappointed, he didn’t show it. “You say that now, but you know you’re dying to say it.”
Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Say what?”
Grantaire leaned in so that his lips brushed against Enjolras’s ear as he whispered, “Draw me like one of your French girls.”
Enjolras laughed, pushing him away. “Absolutely not.”
“Shame,” Grantaire said, laughing as well. “Figured it couldn’t hurt to ask, though.”
Enjolras shook his head affectionately, and picked his phone up again. “For the record,” he said casually, “if you were Jack, and I was Rose, we’d either both find a way to be on that door, or we’d both freeze to death together.”
Grantaire blinked. “Really?”
Enjolras glanced up at him. “You jump, I jump, remember?”
A slow smile spread across Grantaire’s face. “You saying you’d die for me?”
Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I’m saying I’d rather die with you than live without you.”
But Grantaire didn’t seem to have heard him. “You’d die for me,” he said, beaming.
“Only you would find that romantic,” Enjolras murmured. “I, for one, would much rather we live for each other than die for each other.”
Grantaire rested his head against Enjolras’s shoulder, still smiling. “I already do.”
Alright, so I promised soft old men, but then this happened, and well…
E/R, canon divergent post-Barricades. Canon compliant character death, canon-typical violence and mistreatment of prisoners.
It was barely dawn when Enjolras slipped out of bed, trying not to wake the man snoring next to him. But even the simple act of trying to get out of bed without rousing his companion seemed beyond him now, as the lump wrapped in the majority of the blankets let out a disgruntled noise, a hand emerging from under the covers to reach for the emptiness where Enjolras had just lain.
“Come back,” Grantaire said grumpily, and Enjolras just laughed lightly, bending down and reaching for Grantaire’s hand and entwining their fingers together.
He ran his thumb lightly over Grantaire’s gnarled knuckles and the veins that stood out starkly against the liver-spotted back of his hand before raising Grantaire’s hand to his lips. “Go back to bed,” he ordered, his voice quiet but no less commanding than it had once been.
Grantaire’s head emerged finally from under the covers, his grizzled features thrown into shadowy relief in the dim light. “Only if you come back to bed with me,” he said, his voice pitched low to suggest Enjolras return to bed for reasons other than resuming sleep.
Posting at a strange time (for me) because I wrote this on my lunch break and it’s quasi-time sensitive (with spoilers for today’s Wordle).
Modern AU (obviously), developing E/R.
RU OK?
HELLO????
Plz text me back xoxo
Enj this is not a joke this is an emergency
SOS 911 RED ALERT
Text me back and let me know you’re ok or I’m calling your mother.
Nothing sent chills down Enjolras’s spine like a threat to call his mother, and nothing told him that Courfeyrac was entirely serious like seeing him use a period at the end of a text, and he frowned down at the string of texts Courfeyrac had sent him over the last hour before calling him. “I am absolutely fine,” he said by way of greeting. “And I am fascinated to know what happened to make you think otherwise.”
Remember when I was like, the next parts will definitely be shorter! Yeah, I lied.
E/R, Modern AU, Love is Blind AU (bad reality TV AU for anyone unfamiliar with the source show).Developing relationship speedrun,with all the misunderstandings that follow.
In the pods, our couples fell in love and got engaged – sight unseen. After finally seeing each other for the very first time, they’re now with us in Mexico for a romantic getaway.
Here, they’ll discover if their physical connection is as strong as their emotional one. Up until this point, the only thing that’s mattered is who they are on the inside. Now, their love will be put to the test.
Their weddings are just four weeks away. Will their looks, backgrounds, and real world insecurities be too much for them to overcome?
Or will love be enough to get them to the altar – and to their happily ever after?
Enjolras didn’t even bother trying to stop his grin when he saw Grantaire get out of the cab at the resort. He ignored the producer off-camera trying to get him to wait for Grantaire to come to him, instead crossing the lobby of the main hotel building in three long strides and pulling Grantaire into a hug. “Careful now,” Grantaire said, his voice a little muffled against Enjolras’s shirt. “My fiancé might see you.”
“Careful yourself,” Enjolras returned, still grinning, “I resemble that remark.”
Did my dumb ass watch the season finale of Our Flag Means Death and immediately want soft pirates in all my fandoms?
You know I did.
…E/R pirate AU. Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me.
The young sailor in His Majesty’s Royal Navy tentatively set his empty tankard on the polished wooden bar of the tavern his crewmates had insisted they go to on their first stop off the ship. “Thank you,” he told the grizzled barkeep, not yet broken of his genteel ways.
The barkeep just grunted, not looking up from where he was wiping a glass, but the sailor’s eyes caught sight of the man’s tattoo, just peeking out from his shirt sleeve, and his eyes widened. “You’re a pirate,” he blurted.
Now the barkeep did look up, something almost like amusement crossing his creased face. “Well, at least I used to be,” he said before nodding at the empty tankard. “Can I get you another?”
Dumbstruck, the sailor nodded, watching as the barkeep filled his tankard and accepting it without comment, slinking back to where his crewmates were waiting. “What’s with you?” one asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“The barkeep,” the sailor said, his voice low. “He– he’s a pirate!”
The other men all glanced at the bar, instantly relaxing when they saw who it was. “Oh, him,” one said with a snort. “He was, once, but he’s nothing to worry about now.”
Did my dumb ass watch the season finale of Our Flag Means Death and immediately want soft pirates in all my fandoms?
You know I did.
…E/R pirate AU. Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me.
The young sailor in His Majesty’s Royal Navy tentatively set his empty tankard on the polished wooden bar of the tavern his crewmates had insisted they go to on their first stop off the ship. “Thank you,” he told the grizzled barkeep, not yet broken of his genteel ways.
The barkeep just grunted, not looking up from where he was wiping a glass, but the sailor’s eyes caught sight of the man’s tattoo, just peeking out from his shirt sleeve, and his eyes widened. “You’re a pirate,” he blurted.
Now the barkeep did look up, something almost like amusement crossing his creased face. “Well, at least I used to be,” he said before nodding at the empty tankard. “Can I get you another?”
Dumbstruck, the sailor nodded, watching as the barkeep filled his tankard and accepting it without comment, slinking back to where his crewmates were waiting. “What’s with you?” one asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“The barkeep,” the sailor said, his voice low. “He– he’s a pirate!”
The other men all glanced at the bar, instantly relaxing when they saw who it was. “Oh, him,” one said with a snort. “He was, once, but he’s nothing to worry about now.”
*whispers* grantaire thought enjolras hated him until his death
*talks normally* enjolras thought grantaire was passionless cynic and wasn’t worth his efforts
*talks louder* enjolras didn’t trust him with any simple task
*uses outdoor voice* grantaire was unconscious half the battle and never saw his friends die
*screams* THEY WERE SHOT HAND-IN-HAND BUT GRANTAIRE DIED AT ENJOLRAS’ FEET
But…
Enjolrasdid trust him.
Grantaire said, “What about me?” and yes, Enjolras doubted him and questioned him but in the end, he consented to try him.
And yeah, Grantaire failed because he’s Grantaire. He’s a cynic. He’s a fuckup. Enjolras was probably an idiot for trusting him in the first place.
But he let Grantaire stay. He didn’t send him away from Les Amis, he didn’t send him home from the barricade. Grantaire was drunk and ranting and the very last thing anyone needed in that moment and Enjolras let him stay.
And in the end, when it was too late, when everything was already lost and there was no hope left, when Grantaire stood in front of him and offered nothing but his hand and a quiet plea for permission, Enjolras took his hand.
And pressed it.
And smiled at him.
Maybe Grantaire thought Enjolras hated him. “I won’t go to his funeral,” Grantaire grumbled, because he was a dramatic little bitchboy (affectionate). But he showed up anyway. He went to the barricade anyway. Enjolras told him he was incapable of dying. And still he stayed.
Sometimes love is grand declarations. But more often than not, it’s not.
Does it matter, that they didn’t know until the end? Or does it matter more that Enjolras let Grantaire stay, and that Grantaire showed up anyway?
