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kjack89 · 2 months

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Timeless

Because it may have been almost a month, but what is time, anyway.

The air in the antique shop was thick with dust, and Combeferre coughed into the crook of his arm before giving Enjolras a look. “Remind me again what we’re looking for,” he said, picking a particularly tacky snowglobe off of the shelf without bothering to hide his look of revulsion.

“A gift for Grantaire,” Enjolras repeated for easily the twelfth time as he examined the spines of a stack of ancient books with yellowed pages.

“Right,” Combeferre said, replacing the snowglobe and sharing a knowing glance with Courfeyrac. “Why?”

Enjolras glanced up at them and away again. “Does it matter?”

Courfeyrac leaned against a shelf that creaked ominously, and he hastily straightened. “Well, it’s not Christmas,” he reasoned.

“Not Grantaire’s birthday, either,” Combeferre added.

“And no judgment, Enj, but it’s a little late for Valentine’s Day.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together, glaring a garish painting of a sad clown as if it had personally offended him. “It’s an apology gift,” he said sourly, staring determinedly away from Courfeyrac and Combeferre so that he didn’t have to see the look they inevitably gave each other.

He was already familiar with it.

“Uh-oh,” Courfeyrac said, with barely suppressed glee masquerading as concern. “What are you apologizing for?”

Enjolras sighed. “I said something stupid.”

“No shit,” Combeferre said, uncharacteristically blunt, not that Enjolras didn’t likely deserve it. “But what specifically?”

Enjolras sighed again, raking a hand through his blond curls before telling them reluctantly, “We were watching some movie, or at least, it was on in the background while I was doing work. Some kind of rom-com thing and it ended with the couple old and happy together, and Grantaire made some comment about how maybe that’d be us someday and—”

Courfeyrac stared at him, all traces of amusement vanished. “Don’t tell me.”

“I just pointed out that statistically—”

“Enjolras,” Combeferre and Courfeyrac groaned simultaneously.

Enjolras winced. “I mean, the world’s probably going to be uninhabitable long before we’re elderly—”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes so hard it looked physically painful. “Mm, yeah, whisper that in his ear, see how it goes.”

“I didn’t realize he was trying to be romantic,” Enjolras muttered, the tips of his ears flaring as red as his favorite hoodie as he continued to avoid meeting Combeferre or Courfeyrac’s eyes.

“Of course you didn’t,” Combeferre sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Enjolras huffed another sigh. “And now I need to make it up to him,” he said, determined to force the conversation back to something productive.

Combeferre just gave him a look. “And you decided an antique shop was the best place to find a gift because…?”

Shrugging, Enjolras picked a small ceramic ornament off the shelf, turning it over in his hands as he tried to figure out what the hell it was supposed to be. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “He loves this place, so I figured there must be something here worth getting.”

Courfeyrac made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a hastily-stifled cackle. “Pretty sure he likes the bar next door better,” he said.

“Probably,” Enjolras said, “but I can’t exactly get that for him, can I?”

Though at the rate he was going, that might actually be the only gift big enough to make it up to Grantaire.

“Fair enough,” Combeferre said, ever the voice of reason. “Why don’t we split up, cover more ground?”

Enjolras made a face. “Why does this feel like the start of a slasher movie?”

Courfeyrac smirked. “Probably because if you don’t succeed, your relationship’s going to be the first thing to die?”

Enjolras glared at him. “Thanks for your support,” he said dryly.

“Anytime,” Courfeyrac said, saccharine sweet.

Enjolras rolled his eyes as he turned to survey the assorted crap that evidently passed for antiques. He knew he should be more grateful that his friends were willing to put up with him and his now decades of emotional incompetence, but in his defense, they didn’t have to be such assholes about the whole thing.

Though, in this case, Enjolras definitely deserved it.

He scowled as he drifted somewhat aimlessly down the aisle, not even sure what he was looking for. His eyes fell on a tattered cardboard box perched precariously on the end of one shelf, or more accurately, on the neon green postcard taped to the front.

PHOTOS AND LITHOGRAPHS, it proclaimed. TWENTY-FIVE CENTS EACH.

Enjolras had no idea who in their right mind would buy random old photos of people they’d never met or places they’d never been, but he intrigued enough that he pulled the box off the shelf, shuffling through the untidy stacks until he pulled one out at random.

It was a black and white photo of two young men in dinner standing next to each in front of an old-fashioned car. He flipped it over and he could just make out, written very faintly on the back, ‘Before the big dance, 1944.’

He frowned as he turned the photo back over, but before he could toss it back in the box, he caught sight of the familiar half-smile the shorter of the two men wore. A smile that Enjolras had kissed more times than he could count, and without warning, he could see it in his head like a memory he didn’t even know he’d had.

“Hey, kid,” Grantaire said, giving Enjolras that little smile as he leaned against the fence.

“Don’t call me kid,” Enjolras said, breathless. “I’m eighteen, and besides, I graduate soon.”

“I know,” Grantaire said, raking his eyes slowly down Enjolras’s body, his smile sharpening. “Besides, you don’t look much like a kid tonight.”

Still, Enjolras hesitated. “You don’t have to come with me, you know. I know you’re shipping out soon, and I doubt you want to spend your time with a bunch of kids…”

Grantaire raised both eyebrows. “Didn’t we just establish you’re not a kid?” he said easily. “Besides, someone’s got to keep an eye on. Especially if Courfeyrac spikes the punch again.”

Enjolras half-smiled at the memory, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wish I was going with you.”

“I don’t,” Grantaire said flatly. “Hard enough fighting the Nazis without having to worry about you getting shot or blown up.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “You’ll write?”

“As often as I can,” Grantaire promised, reaching for his hand. “And I’ll be back before you know it.”

It was a hollow promise – they both knew too many young men who would never return from the war in Europe. But before Enjolras could point that out, Grantaire dropped his hand, straightening. “Mr. and Mrs. Enjolras,” he said with what he clearly thought was a winning smile.

“Oh, Grantaire,” Enjolras’s mother said. “I didn’t realize you were going tonight.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Thought I’d give the kids a little treat,” he said easily.

Enjolras’s father laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “And hopefully keep them out of trouble,” he said.

“Of course,” Grantaire said, winking at Enjolras, who rolled his eyes.

“Wait, before you go, I want to get a picture!” Enjolras’s mother said, and Enjolras groaned.

“Ma, not tonight—”

“Just one,” she said, and Enjolras’s father frogmarched them both over to pose awkwardly in front of the car. “See, all done.”

Enjolras just sighed and looked at Grantaire. “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered.

Grantaire grinned. “I’ll make sure I bring him back in one piece,” he promised Enjolras’s parents, who both just smiled and waved.

Enjolras and Grantaire made it all the way down the sidewalk and around the corner before Grantaire pressed Enjolras up against the side of a garage to kiss him. “Sorry,” he said. “You really do look good, kid.”

“So do you,” Enjolras murmured, and Grantaire kissed him once more before releasing him.

“What do you think?” he said, casually. “Make an appearance at the dance and then you can come back to mine to say goodbye properly?”

If Enjolras had his way, he wouldn’t say goodbye at all. But since that wasn’t an option, he settled for nodding. “Yeah,” he said. “Sounds like a plan.”

Back in the antique shop, Enjolras shook his head, feeling almost dizzy as the memory – or whatever it had been – faded, leaving a strange sort of buzzing sound in his ears. He set the photo down with trembling fingers, and then, like an idiot, reached back into the box again for another.

This time he emerged with a color photograph that looked like someone had torn it out of a book based on the caption in tiny print underneath the picture. ‘Portrait of a young man writing a letter,’ the caption read, dry and boring like any art book Enjolras had the misfortune of flipping through, ‘ca. 1650. Artist unknown.’

Enjolras frowned down at the picture, letting out a sigh of relief that it didn’t look anything like Grantaire.

At least, until he realized that it did look, at least a little bit, like himself.

Enjolras’s chest felt tight as he scanned Grantaire’s latest missive. Where most of his friends sent updates on how their efforts were going to liberate Enjolras from the cursed marriage his parents had foisted upon him, Grantaire’s alone were like a balm in these dark times. They weren’t full of hope, as Enjolras would never expect from the cynic, but they were full of certitude, of no promises but instead guarantees that no man could stand between Grantaire’s blade and Enjolras.

“Patience is a virtue neither of us possess, but I must beg you for what little you can spare me,” the latest letter read. “Dark is the night but soon we shall be reunited in the dawn. And should we fail, know that my heart will belong to you for the rest of time, and none may cleave my soul from yours when we depart this earth.”

Enjolras traced his finger over the scrawled ‘R’ at the bottom of the page, lifting his finger to brush against his lips. Only then did he sit up in his chair, straighten his shoulders, and grab his own quill to begin to write his response.

Again, Enjolras resurfaced in the antique store, and he reached out automatically to grab the shelf, steadying himself against it. His head swam, and he had no explanation for what was going on, save for the obvious that he’d finally cracked under pressure and lost his entire mind.

It didn’t feel like he was going crazy, though. He was still him, still in this cursed store, still trying to find some kind of apology gift and instead unearthing bizarre memories of, what, alternate lives?

A hysterical giggle rose in his throat and he did his best to tamp it down, instead reaching for the box to return it to its spot on the shelf.

Instead, he caught sight of a lithograph on the top of the pile of pictures, a charming little scene of what could only be a Parisian café a century or so ago, and despite now having two very distinct reasons to know this was a bad idea, he lifted it out of the box.

He couldn’t even pretend to be surprised at what happened next.

Enjolras squinted up at the sun, too high in the sky already for how much he had to accomplish that day.

But as he strode past a café, someone hailed him, delaying him all the further. “Enjolras! Join me, won’t you.”

Enjolras scowled at the dark-haired man seated at a table outside of the café, his chin propped in his hand as he grinned at him.. “I see you are putting your morning to good use,” Enjolras said sourly. “Alas that some of us have more important matters to which we must attend.”

Grantaire’s grin widened. “And yet what may be more important than sating your hunger and thirst?” he asked with feigned innocence. “Even gods take the time to feast with mortals.”

“I suppose it is well that I am not a god, then.”

He turned to leave but paused when Grantaire called after him, “All the more reason to join me, then. As I doubt I merit the company of gods regardless.”

Enjolras sighed, turning back to again refute him, but before he could say anything, Grantaire straightened, his grin sobering into something more genuine, something that made Enjolras’s chest feel inexplicably warm. “Please,” he said, something soft and almost sweet in the word. “Would the world cease to spin should you spend a half hour letting someone take care of you?”

“Is that what this is?” Enjolras asked, forgetting to be harsh.

Grantaire shrugged. “A first attempt, at least.” His grin returned. “How am I doing thus far?”

“That remains to be seen,” Enjolras said, hesitating for only a moment before, reluctantly, sitting down across from him. “Very well. You have a half hour. Do your best.”

“For you, I always do,” Grantaire said, his voice low, and Enjolras was suddenly aware that the warmth on his cheeks had nothing to do with the sun.

At least this time, he didn’t feel like he was going to collapse upon returning to himself, which was a small sort of comfort. He did feel a little shaky, which probably explained how his renewed attempt at putting the box on the shelf instead sent it falling to the floor.

Enjolras groaned as he bent to pick up all the pictures and shove them back in the box, hoping this didn’t mean he’d suddenly experience a hundred memories at once. Luckily, he remained entirely in the present, and he hastily gathered all the photos, placing them back in the box, which he successfully returned to the shelf.

Only then did he notice a photo he’d missed, and he sighed again as he bent to pick it up, glancing automatically at it. This was a color photo, much more recent if a little out of focus, of two older men kissing, and he flipped it over to see if anything was on the back.

In bold Sharpie strokes, someone had written ‘FINALLY! Fifty years in the making. June 29, 2015.’

Enjolras felt the breath catch in his throat. Three days after Obergefell.

He waited for the memory to overwhelm him yet again, but this time, it didn’t come, and he frowned down at it, a little surprised. Maybe it was because neither man particularly resembled him or Grantaire.

Or maybe it was because he and Grantaire had to live this memory themselves.

It was a stupid thought that somehow still had tears pricking in Enjolras’s eyes, and he shook his head, starting to return the photo to the box before hesitating.

He knew what he needed to give Grantaire.

— — — — —

“I bought these.”

Grantaire glanced up from where he was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone. “Hell of an opening,” he said mildly, sitting up as Enjolras sat down next to him. He accepted the paper bag that Enjolras held out, his brow furrowing, and he carefully shook out the four pictures Enjolras had purchased from the antique store, fanning them out across the table.

He blinked down at them and back up at Enjolras, his brow furrowing, just slightly. “I don’t understand,” he admitted. “You bought four random pictures?”

Enjolras jerked a nod and then took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize.”

Grantaire looked up at him, his expression neutral. “I’m listening.”

Enjolras wet his lips before telling Grantaire, “I meant what I said.”

Grantaire sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ok,” he said, with something like patience, “maybe we need to first circle back to what the concept of an apology means—”

But Enjolras refused to be deterred from his point. “You and I both know that we aren’t guaranteed to get old together, let alone separately,” he said, and Grantaire fell silent, something tightening in his expression, something that Enjolras wanted desperately to smooth away with his fingertips. “Hell, we’re not even guaranteed to make it to next week, let alone past November, or five years from now or what have you.”

“Stirring oration as always, Enj—”

“But what I should have said,” Enjolras continued, “and didn’t, is that it doesn’t matter how much time we have together. What matters is that we have any time at all.” He reached for Grantaire’s hand, a little surprised when Grantaire let him take it. “Whether it’s five years or fifty years, any time that I have with you will be worth it. I don’t know if we’re going to get a happy ending, but I’ll be damned if we don’t get a happy right now with each other. And that– that’s what I should have said.”

He had faltered a little at the end, but it was worth it regardless for the look in Grantaire’s eyes, for the small half-smile that lifted just one corner of his mouth, for the way his fingers tightened around Enjolras’s.

Enjolras took another deep breath before telling him, “I went to the antique store to get you a present to say that I’m sorry, but instead I got these.” He gestured at the pictures still spread across the coffee table. “Something about them– I can’t explain it, but I look at them, and I see us.” He shrugged, a little helplessly. “I know that between the two of us, I’m the believer, but I have to admit, until I saw these, I don’t know if I truly believed that it really is me and you, forever. Whatever that forever ends up looking like.”

He squeezed Grantaire’s hand before telling him, “So I didn’t get these for you. I got them for me, to remind myself of that. Because the only gift that I can give you that matters worth a damn is time.”

Grantaire’s smile was soft and his eyes were just a little bit wet, and he shook his head. “Enjolras—”

He broke off as if he couldn’t quite decide what to say, and Enjolras added, “And I really am sorry that I didn’t say this the first time around.”

Grantaire shook his head again. “Well,” he managed, his voice thick, “you said it now. C’mere.” He tugged Enjolras to him, reaching up with his free hand to cup Enjolras’s cheek, to brush his thumb along his jawline as he leaned in to kiss him. “I love you.”

Enjolras kissed back before telling him, “I love you, too.”

Grantaire kissed him once more, his lips curving into a smile against Enjolras’s before he leaned back to ask, innocently, “So does that mean you didn’t actually get me a present, or…?”

Enjolras sighed, the exasperated, endlessly fond sigh of a man in love with the biggest pain in the ass he’d ever met. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

And for once, Grantaire did. After all, they had time to worry about presents later.

They had all the time in the world.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #flashbacks #kind of sort of #idk what to call them #arguments #making up #fluff #idiots in love

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omgjolras · 3 months

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why are so many enjoltaire fics so angsty oh my godddd just let enjolras find out about dick in peace PLEASE!!!!!!

#let him have this #enjoltaire #I’m kidding obviously put those two in a situation immediately #enjolras #grantaire #les mis #i need some non-nonsensical(?) fluff from time to time tho

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cx-shhhh · 4 months

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Grantaire would question whether Enjolras actually likes him even when they’re together because he has never had anyone express their attraction to him before that, which leads to certain insecurities.

And when Enjolras somehow catches wind of those insecurities, he sends Grantaire screenshots of his own multiple-paragraph-long messages to everyone else of him just ranting about how utterly obsessed he is with his cutetalentedfunny boyfriend.

In the end, Enjolras makes sure to say all of those things out loud and very loudly, which is both endearing and embarrassing, but it’s worth it to him because he not only gets to witness how lovely Grantaire looks when he’s blushing and covering his face with his hands, but he also gets to make sure Grantaire knows just how utterly adored he is.

#fucking fluff ugh #les mis #les miserables #grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #exr #les amis #les amis de l'abc

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enjandr · 28 days

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*enj and r are watching a bootleg of hadestown, sitting on the couch, sharing a blanket.*

Enjolras: Grantaire, I don't think this is legal.

Grantaire: Its not, but shhhh. You're gonna miss it!

Enjolras: Miss what?

Grantaire: Everything!

*By the end of it, they are both asleep and r has decided to use enj as a pillow. Its cute, and when Courfeyrac gets back, he takes a picture.*

#5 posts #tumblr milestone #enjoltaire #grantaire x enjolras #enjandr #enjolras #grantaire #hadestown #courfeyrac #fluff #snuggling #they're so cute ahhh #les mis #les mierables

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antisocial-cheesepuff · 1 month

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it’s fluffy and cute and i am not your strongest soldier

#me searching under the fluff tag every time i’m on ao3 #i see fluffy fics i read them #i see fluffy fanart i reblog or like it #THERE IS ENOUGH ANGST IN REAL LIFE LET ME LIVE IN MY LITTLE GAY DELUSIONS #i’ve already read about these characters falling in love and getting a happy ending #and i’ll do it again!#johnlock #enjoltaire #cherik #destiel #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #nandermo #ineffable husbands #snowbaz

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masterbaiting · 1 year

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i love unrequited love (requited only with something like cruelty) internalised homophobia and doing literally anything in the world for someone who regards you most of all with scorn. #enjoltaire

#andi hate fluff and i hate modern au. this is my enjoltaire manifesto #i love it when they are just tragic and so unhealthy #shut up ulrike #les mis #les miserables #enjoltaire #grantaire #enjolras #popular

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jesuisserieux · 6 months

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Prompt 1: Costumes

This is my first fic for the Hoes for Enjolras server's Halloween bingo! It's very soft and silly, just exr being idiots in love but with a Halloween background. I hope people enjoy! You can read it here, or here on ao3. Let me know if you liked it!

Get the Horns

“I look like a goat,” says Enjolras.

“But a very cute goat! Make all the boy goats go WAAAAA!” A silence. Courfeyrac looks between him and Combeferre. “The Princess Diaries 2? Nobody? Okay then.”

“To be honest, I just thought you’d finally lost it,” says Ferre.

“Oh honey, that was years ago.”

Enjolras snorts, “Are you sure this looks right? Like, you’re the fashion expert, but I really do feel like people will think I’m a goat.”

“You’re wearing red,” says Combeferre. “I feel like everyone knows red and horns equals devil.”

Enjolras frowns, “I guess.”

“You don’t have to be a devil,” says Courf, “I just thought it’d be cute if we were matching. Or, not matching. You know what I mean.” He motions to his angel costume.

“Yeah but you have a sparkly halo. No one is going to be confused about your costume. Plus, won’t it be weird if we’re matching and Ferre is just… Luke Skywalker?”

“That was his choice,” says Courf, “I told him he could be an angel with me.”

“That would be weird,” says Ferre, “One devil, two angels? Makes no sense. Plus, I promised Musichetta I would do the Skywalkers twins with her like, nine months ago.”

“I guess until we meet up with everyone we can just say we’re the devil and the angel on your shoulders.”

“The Jedi and the Sith,” suggests Enjolras.

Ferre and Courf say “Nerd,” in perfect unison, even though this is obviously hypocrisy of the highest order.

He scoffs, “Whatever, are we ready to go now?”

“Oh so now you want to go to the party?” teases Courf. “I wonder what changed…”

“I still don’t want to go to the party. But you talked me into it, so I’m at least going to be on time.”

“It’s not because R said he could come after all?” Ferre raises a skeptical eyebrow.

Enjolras shoots him a betrayed look. “I already agreed to go before he said that.”

“Yeah but you weren’t nearly as eager, before.”

“Your face is the same color as your costume,” says Courf, looking at him in the mirror as he applies mascara.

“Are we going or not?” Enjolras pretends to be looking at something on his phone, to hide his face.

Courf snorts, “Nice subject change. Subtle. But sure, I’m done with my makeup, let’s head out.” He straightens up, and in his heels, he’s face level with Enjolras.

“It’s weird to see you at this angle,” he says.

“Oh fuck off,” says Courf lightheartedly.

“You’re both still short to me,” says Combeferre.

Enjolras protests, “You’re like, three inches taller than me.”

“Four.”

“Oh my god.”

“Okay!” interjects Courf, “let’s go.”

The party, when they get there, is in full swing. It’s not the loudest party ever- Enjolras and Combeferre wouldn’t have come if it was- but the bass is still loud enough, that they have to get close to yelling to be heard. Enjolras isn’t actually sure whose house this is. Presumably, somebody Courf knows, but that doesn’t narrow it down a lot. Whoever it was, they went all out on decorations. There are fake spider webs and skeletons everywhere, and everything is bathed in slime green light.

Courf gets them each a cup of punch from a bowl that looks like a cauldron. He takes a sip from his own cup and winces. “Don’t drink that fast, it’s sweet but it’s strong as fuck.”

Enjolras really hadn’t been planning on getting drunk in the first place, so he just nods and takes a sip. Goddamn. Courf wasn’t kidding. “What the fuck is in this?”

“What isn’t?” says someone from behind him. He turns around to see Grantaire, only a few inches away from him and looking way too hot, despite being dressed as-

“What are you?” he asks, taking in the fishnets, the makeup, the lampshade under one arm-”

“Oh!” R takes the lampshade and perches it on top of his head, “I’m a sexy lamp.”

The unfortunate thing is that any costume Grantaire wears would be sexy in Enjolras’s opinion. Including a fucking lamp.

“You’re something all right,” says Combeferre, saving Enjolras the embarrassment of saying any of that out loud.

“What the fuck are you supposed to be?” asks R. I can tell with these two but how does yours connect?”

“It doesn’t. I’m Luke Skywalker. Musichetta is Leia.”

“We would have included him,” says Courf, “but apparently he and Chetta planned this months ago. So now we just look like we’re excluding him.” Ferre scoffs. “We do! Everyone is going to think we’re terrible best friends, and we left you out of our Halloween costume.”

“I don’t think anyone here is sober enough to think that,” says R.

Enjolras searches his brain frantically for something clever to say in response, but he comes up empty, still too preoccupied by Grantaire, and more specifically, Grantaire’s legs in fishnets.

“You good Apollo?” asks R, “I didn’t think the punch was that strong.”

Enjolras blinks. He’s just been staring into space. This is why he doesn’t go out. “Sorry! I’m good. Just… spaced out.”

“Can’t take you anywhere,” says Courf affectionately. He ruffles Enjolras’s hair, and Enjolras smacks his hand away. He looks to Ferre for support but he’s already making his way across the room to Musichetta, who’s brandishing a lightsaber.

“You fucked up his horns,” R says Courfeyrac. He reaches out to fix them, his hands rearranging Enjolras’s hair.

“I’ll see you guys later,” says Courf, not even pretending to have an excuse for leaving. Enjolras can’t even say anything as he leaves, because his brain is devoid of words on account of R touching him.

“There,” says R, tucking some hair behind his ear, “all good.”

“Thanks.” His mouth is so dry.

“So did Courf choose the costume?”

“Uh… yes! Yeah. I think I look like a goat.” He tries not to outwardly wince listening to himself.

Luckily, Grantaire seems to find it funny, thank god. He laughs loudly and gives Enjolras a skeptical onceover. “Why on earth would anyone think you were a goat, Apollo?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. Horns.” He can feel his face heat up. “I’m not wearing red face paint.”

“Even so, why would they assume ‘goat’ instead of ‘devil’ for a Halloween costume?”

“Well when you put it like that it sounds stupid…”

R laughs again. “You’re such a weirdo.” It’s said so affectionately, Enjolras can’t meet his eyes.

“You’re the one dressed as a sexy lamp,” he mumbles in the direction of his shoes.

“Touche,” says R. There’s an awkward silence. Enjolras takes another sip of his incredibly strong punch for lack of anything better to do. “You wince every time you take a sip of that,” notes R.

“It tastes like windex mixed with juice.”

“You’re probably not that far off. Here,” R takes the cup from him and sets it down. “They have ciders in the fridge, that seems more your speed.” Absentmindedly, R grabs his wrist to pull him through the crowd of people. Enjolras is going to combust.

The kitchen is brighter and quieter thank god, although the light means Grantaire can see how red his face is.

“You okay?” he asks, as he hands Enjolras some rose cider drink from the fridge.

“Huh? Yeah good.” Grantaire smirks. The bottle feels good on his warm face.

“You sure you’re not drunk already?” asks R.

“From two sips of punch? Even I’m not that much of a lightweight.”

“No?” R puts a hand to his face, “You’re really warm.” He can probably feel Enjolras’s heartbeat in his fucking forehead with how fast it’s going. He looks down, hoping R won’t see the flush creeping up his ears. Being this pale is a curse. “Apollo?” R taps his cheek and he looks up reflexively. He’s so close.

“I’m fine! Just- nervous.” He wants to melt into the kitchen floor. Why would he say that! Literally anything else would be better, now R’s going to ask why he’s nervous and he’s not going to have a good answer besides it’s really hard not to stare at your mouth right now.

“Nervous?”

“Yeah. I mean you- this- uh, just isn’t my scene. Parties. You know?” Oh god he needs to find a way out of this conversation before he keeps talking.

“Do I make you nervous, Apollo?” asks R in a tone that seems half joking half- flirtatious? That’s probably wishful thinking on his part.

“Uh-” he opens his mouth but only a few nonsense syllables come out. He shuts it again, tries desperately to think of something cool and funny to say. It’s taking too long. Oh god it’s taking too long why can’t he say something?”

“It’s okay,” says R, “you’re cute when you’re flustered.” Hang on what? “Plus, people will definitely know what your costume is.” He pats Enjolras’s burning cheek. “You don’t even need red face paint.” He looks far too proud of that little quip as he slips back out of the kitchen. Enjolras doesn’t even attempt to say anything. It’s just static up there anyway. Courf was right earlier, his face does, in fact, match his costume.

#enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #les amis #les mis #exr #courfeyrac #combeferre #my writing #halloween bingo 2023 #hoes for halloween bingo challenge 2023 #fluff #idiots in love #my wriitng

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juksuart · 1 year

Text

Okay so it has been almost two weeks since my dad got a heartattack and has been in a coma ever since. We’re not sure if he’s waking up.

So I needed something soft for these trying times

#enjoltaire #enjolras x grantaire #enjolras #grantaire #exr #fluff #cute #soft #juksuart #juksu #sorry for being inactive 💀

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benevolenterrancy · 2 years

Photo

See I found my enemy at the bottom of this drink Bartender won't you please Drown him for me Oh drown him for me

I was listening to a playlist that convinced me to torture myself with shading and lighting practice again. Two stand out songs that inspired this picture, for anyone besides me that cares: 1) Pour Me by Sebastian Kole (above), and 2) Anemophobia by Deaf Havana (below)

I still worry about the weather, and I'm sick to death of rain And these panic attacks do nothing for my tired swollen brain My days aren't getting better, and I'm still numbing the pain I lost my mind and all my hope in feeling fine again Cause I'm holding out for a saving grace, to show me the error of my ways I really need a change I'm not a pessimist but sometimes hope is missed or missing I haven't felt so fucking drained, I need a break

#les mis #les miserables #grantaire #enjoltaire #lol in the most obscure way i suppose in a way zero people will notice besides me #the tiny reflection in the top right corner of the bottle is meant to be a glimmer of enjolras off in the distance pontificating about #something or another #i don't know why i felt so compelled to draw a depressed R if anything i'm in a way bigger mood for fluff i've been reading fake dating fics #all week #maybe because this is the stuff i would have loved to have drawn my first time round in the fandom but didn't have hte skill for #i barely have the skill for it now but hey that's something! practised some new skills! yay me!#my art

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wildrivver · 1 year

Text

It's time for Christmas fluff!

Enjolras has been invited to spend Christmas with Grantaire and his family.

#les miserables #les mis #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #exr #trans #t4t #Christmas #fluff #fanfic #my fic #flat 9a

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kjack89 · 6 months

Text

Understand

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

E/R, modern AU.

Enjolras wove expertly through the crowded bar, having done this far too many times, especially recently. He saw the man he was looking for half-slumped at the bar, a row of empty shot glasses in front of him, and Enjolras sighed heavily.

Grantaire spotted him as he approached, and even now, even after everything, Grantaire’s entire expression lit up as he did. “Enjolras!”

His smile was wide and wicked, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the bar, but even his ebullient greeting couldn’t quite hide the fact that he slurred a little on Enjolras’s name. Enjolras pursed his lips, just slightly. After the fight that they’d had, he had fully expected Grantaire to drink his cares away, but Grantaire seemed long past the point of cares.

“C’mon,” Grantaire said, patting the barstool next to him. “Sit. Drink. You’re a few behind.”

It occurred to Enjolras, as Grantaire tugged him onto the barstool next to his and slung an arm around his shoulders, that he hadn’t seen Grantaire this drunk in quite a while. Drinking, sure, even tipsy, but since the first time they’d stumbled back to Enjolras’s together, Grantaire’s drinking had never reached this level.

Which was definitely not a good sign.

Grantaire propped his chin on his hand and smiled at Enjolras. “So what’re you drinking?” he asked, his voice too loud. “Shots? You wanna do shots, Apollo?”

“No thanks,” Enjolras said, nodding to the bartender and muttering, “Water, for both of us.”

Enjolras gave him an even look. “I think you’ve probably had enough fun for the both of us,” he said firmly, pressing one of the glasses of water in Grantaire’s hand. “Drink this and then I’m taking you home. It’s been a long day.”

Grantaire snorted and rubbed a hand across his face, his smile disappearing in an instant. “It has been a long day,” he agreed, looking and sounding exhausted. “Long day, long week, long month…” He trailed off and forced a smile back on his face as he leered at Enjolras. “Long boyfriend, if you know what I mean.”

He tipped an enormous wink at him, and Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Normally the lecherous thing works for me, but not here, not now.”

The smile again slid off of Grantaire’s face. “Then what do you want, Enj?” he asked, sounding tired and upset and everything Enjolras had expected when he had gotten Bossuet’s text advising him that Grantaire seemed to be attempting to drown himself in vodka. “You want to dissect every single thing you said to me during our fight this morning? Because I already did that somewhere around drink 4. You want to ask me why I picked a fight in the first place when everything seemed to be going so well? That was the topic of conversation at drink 6. Oh, or perhaps you’d like to remind me that you expect more of me, or at the very least, you expect me to pretend like I care – oh look, I beat you to it.”

His voice had grown in volume as he had gone on, and Enjolras winced at the vitriol in his words, acutely aware that people were beginning to stare at them. “Keep your voice down,” he told Grantaire, aiming to keep his own voice calm and soothing, but Grantaire clearly wanted no part of it.

“What, are you embarrassed by your drunk, loser boyfriend?”

Grantaire practically flung the words in Enjolras’s face, and Enjolras flinched, biting back his initial instinct to contradict Grantaire. Partially because he didn’t actually think that Grantaire was a loser, but most because he knew when Grantaire was picking a fight, and the last thing he wanted was for Grantaire to twist his attempt at comfort into something it wasn’t. “The only one you’re embarrassing is yourself,” he said instead, struggling to keep his voice even and controlled. “Now you can either come home with me or I’m calling you an Uber, but I’m not doing this with you here.”

For one long moment, Grantaire just glared at him, and Enjolras shrugged, pulling out his phone so that he could order an Uber for him. Suddenly, Grantaire’s hand shot out, closing around Enjolras’s wrist, and Enjolras glanced up at him, Grantaire’s expression inscrutable. “I love you, you know,” Grantaire said, his voice still several decibels too loud, as if he didn’t care that the entire bar could still hear him. “But for the life of me, I can’t understand why you would ever love me back.”

Enjolras stared at him, completely taken aback by the words that had just come out of Grantaire’s mouth. “Are you…are you serious right now?” he asked, his voice cracking, just slightly, and when Grantaire shrugged, Enjolras twisted his wrist out of his grip so that he could reach out and take Grantaire’s hand in both of his. There were a million things he wanted to say, a million reasons he wanted to give, but instead, he did the only thing he could, and turned it back on Grantaire. “Why do you love me?”

Grantaire stared at him. “What?”

“You heard me,” Enjolras said. “You don’t understand why I love you? Well, then I want you to explain why you love me.”

“I– that’s not the same thing!” Grantaire spluttered. “You’re – you’re you!”

He gestured so emphatically at Enjolras that he almost toppled off his barstool, and Enjolras rolled his eyes as he helped right him in his seat. “And you’re going to have to do better than that.”

Grantaire just shook his head. “I don’t understand how anyone could not love you,” he told Enjolras, with the kind of honesty brought on by far too many shots of vodka. “I don’t understand how Combeferre and Courfeyrac can spend as much time with you as they have and not just fallen head over heels in love with you.”

“I imagine the amount of time they’ve spent with me is probably why they haven’t,” Enjolras murmured wryly.

But Grantaire ignored him. “You just—” He shook his head admiringly. “There is so much broken in this world, so much that it’s, it’s incomprehensible for any person to even begin to make a difference, and somehow, you do. You give every part of yourself to trying to make the world better in whatever little way you can, and you never let anything, including and especially me, stop you from trying.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “And that’s why you love me?”

“Yes.” Grantaire barked a laugh and scrubbed his free hand across his mouth. “No. I don’t know.” He dropped his hand and tilted his head to look up at Enjolras. “I love you because you make me want to be someone more than I am.”

Enjolras squeezed his hand. “And I love you because you make me better.”

Grantaire made a small note of dissent. “Be serious.”

“I am.” Enjolras pronounced the words with as much iron as he usually saved for his calls to arms. “You make me better. You make me want to be better. You ground me and remind of exactly why I do this. And you soften my rough edges and keep me from working myself to the bone on a half-brained idea that probably won’t even accomplish what I was intending anyway.”

He echoed Grantaire’s words from earlier in the day back to him, but gentler, sweeter, with a teasing lilt and no sharp bite, and when Grantaire smiled, just slightly, Enjolras smiled as well, lifting Grantaire’s hand to his mouth to press a kiss against the back of his hand. “I love you because you helped me figure out how to be whole.”

There was something unreadable but impossibly soft in Grantaire's expression as he looked at Enjolras. “I want to kiss you,” he told him.

Enjolras laughed lightly, feeling for the first time since he’d set foot in this bar like they were still them. “What are you waiting for, my permission?” he asked with a grin.

“No,” Grantaire said, swaying just slightly in his seat as he searched Enjolras’s face before confessing, “I’m drunk and there seems to be two of you, and I’m not sure which one I’m supposed to kiss.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes affectionately before leaning in to kiss Grantaire on the forehead. “C’mon,” he said, his voice rough. “Let’s get you home before you say something else you’re going to regret in the morning.”

Grantaire let Enjolras pull him to his feet, patting automatically for his wallet. “Wait, I need to pay my tab—”

“I got it,” Enjolras told him, having slipped his credit card to the bartender almost as soon as he had sat down.

Grantaire leaned heavily against him. “You better have tipped well,” he said.

“Believe me, I did,” Enjolras muttered.

Grantaire blinked up at him. “I love you,” he repeated, as Enjolras wrapped an arm around his waist and steered him towards the exit. “And I’m not gonna regret this in the morning.” He considered it for a moment. “Well, maybe just a little.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “Well, you’ll have to call me in the morning and let me know.”

Grantaire frowned. “Why don’t you come home with me and find out for yourself?” he asked, with just a little bit of a whine in his voice. “Save me from having to make a phone call.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Enjolras told him. “Not tonight.”

“Not like that,” Grantaire said, a little impatiently. “I mean – just come home with me, Enj.” Enjolras’s resolve was already wavering when Grantaire added softly, “Please.”

Enjolras sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But if you regret it in the morning, it’s your fault, not mine.”

Grantaire gave him a bright, genuine smile. “I won’t,” he promised.

“Good,” Enjolras said, pressing a kiss to the top of Grantaire’s head. “Because given how shitty your mattress is, I might.”

#enjolras #grantaire #exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #fanfiction #modern au #established relationship #fluff and angst #but mostly fluff

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