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Hi there, my sweet friend, thank you for asking me! ❤️ I’m sorry if I made you wait, and I turned the shirt In a hoodie, I hope you don’t mind ❤️


The weather was terrible, that day.

Enjolras was fairly sure Paris had never seen that much rain, not since the 1910’s great inondation.

Sitting cross legged on the carpet covered floor, Enjolras kept on tap, tap, tapping the tip of his pencil on the book in his lap, huffing. However he tried, he just couldn’t concentrate.

He got up, craving a warm cup of tea, and a flash of green caught his attention. There, on the couch, Grantaire’s hoodie laid forgotten beside Eponine’s glasses and Marius’s scarf, remains of their movie night.

Enjolras stopped in front of his couch and bit his lips, staring.

It couldn’t hurt, could it?  To wear it just for a while?

He was alone in the apartment, Combeferre spending the day at Courfeyrac’s, no one would know if he were to fall into temptation.

He glared at the green hoodie, as if to make it disappear, taking his disturbing thoughts with it. Why should he care if it still smelled like Grantaire? It was none of his business. Really.

But, but it looked so soft, and warm, and big, and Enjolras was sure wearing it would feel like being enveloped in Grantaire, surrounded by his smell and, and Enjolras was cold anyway. And he didn’t want to walk all the way to his room, through the cold apartment, to get one of his own’s plain, boring, non-Grantaire’s hoodies.

It was on his couch after all, he had all the right to wear it - well, except for the fact that it wasn’t his, but who cared about such trivial a matter-

Torn between feeling guilty and excited, Enjolras slipped Grantaire’s hoodie on, over his t-shirt, sighing as the soft material brushed the bare skin of his arms.

God, it felt like drowning in Grantaire’s smell. And, it was so big on him, the sleeves so long only the tips of his fingers were visible.

Yeah, wearing it had been the right thing to do. He wasn’t even cold anymore.

Once his Grantaire-craving was solved - - well, partially - -  Enjolras proceeded toward the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove.

As the water boiled he padded to the bathroom, deciding that a peek in the mirror couldn’t hurt.

To say he blushed as he caught sight of his reflection would be an understatement. Grantaire’s hoodie covered his body down to the knees, hiding his pajamas shorts and leaving him in green fabric and white socks. His curls tumbled messily around his shoulder and his reading glasses were perched on his nose. He looked as if he’d just come out of a manga.

Yeah, Grantaire’s hoodie was Enjolras’s hoodie, now. He wasn’t giving it back.

Enjolras sighed again, the temptation to twirl on the spot a strong one, but he refrained to do so. He wasn’t a lovesick teenager anymore, dammit. He put his hairs up in a ponytail ad exited the bathroom, turning the light off.

Twenty minutes later, Enjolras was still wrapped in Grantaire’s hoodie, nestled on the couch with his tea, when the knocking started.

Enjolras wasn’t expecting anyone, but whoever was knocking sure as hell was in a rush.

Enjolras went to open the door and, like in one of  the wrost rom-com to ever exists, on the other side was no other than Grantaire, dripping wet on his doormat.

Enjolras gulped, frozen on the spot because he was still in that damned hoodie, and Grantaire smiled apologetically at him.

“Jojo, I’m sorry but I just couldn’t keep on walking, my apartment ’ s twenty minutes away and it looks like the apocalypse out there. Can I stay here? I’ ll be out of you way as soon as- wait, is that- is that my hoodie?”

Enjolras wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by the floor.


“Why are you wearing my hoodie?”

“I think - I think it looks good on me?”

Grantaire blinked and let his eyes travel on the whole of Enjolras’s body, taking in his fuzzy socks, his bare legs, the hoodie, his glasses– he cleared his throat.

“yeah, It-it suits you. Uhm”

“right- would you like to come in? You look like you could use something warm”


Grantaire had the care to leave his shoes on the mat before strolling inside, leaving Enjolras behind him to close the door.

Another twenty minutes and Grantaire was warm and dry as they both sat on the carpet, two fresh mugs of tea on the coffee table and Netflix on tv.

Grantaire turned around to face him, “So, my hoodie, hm?”

And, yeah. Enjolras was still wearing it. Sue him. Beside, it would have been suspicious to remove it in front of Grantaire.

He pulled at the hem of one of the sleeves, “It’s warm”

“And, that’s it?”

Enjolras tilted his head and Grantaire’s face came into view, “What do you mean?”

“What I mean, is that you’ve been sniffing the collar of that hoodie for the past twenty minutes,” Grantaire slid even closer, the tip of his nose brushed Enjolras’s cheek and made him gasp, “Grantaire?”

“Enjolras, Enjolras did I get this wrong?”

Enjolras was blushing, they both were, his tongue heavy in his mouth even as he answered, “no- no. You didn’t”. Grantaire inhaled sharply and his lips rested, open and humid, on Enjolras’s cheek, “Please, please, let me kiss you Enjolras.” Grantaire’s lips brushed down to his jaw and Enjolras nodded, whining when Grantaire pulled back. “You need to tell me, Enjolras.”

Enjolras fisted his hands in Grantaire’s shirt and climbed on his lap, his knees bracketing Grantaire’s hips and their eyes locked together.

“Grantaire, if you don’t kiss me right now I swear to God I’ll kill you. ”

“Ooh, bossy. I like it.”


Grantaire smiled up at him and slid his hands on Enjolras’s thigs, “Come here”.

Yeah. Wearing that hoodie had been the right thing to do indeed.

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Thank you so much!!! And thank you for the prompt, too, I had fun writing this and I hope you’ll like it ❤️


Grantaire prided himself to be an easy going guy.

He really did, but, coming back home to find his kitchen destroyed was too much even for him.

The smell of smoke was permeating his nostrils and he could feel an headache coming up just from it, the countertop looked like a bomb had been dropped on it and, stepping around the living room’s couch to further inspect the destroyed room, Grantaire noticed he missed one hell of a detail.

Namely, Enjolras.

Enjolras, who sat on his floor in front of his oven, glaring daggers at it as if it had personally offended him.

Grantaire was fairly sure the only one with the right to be offended was the oven.

Then, a thought occurred him.

“How the hell did you get into my apartment?!” he shouted, and Enjolras almost jumped out of his skin, whirling his head around to look toward Grantaire, his eyes comically wide.

“What the hell, Grantaire,” he gulped, scrambling to his feet “warn a guy!”

“Warn a guy? What are you doing in my apartment?!”

Was he blushing?

“I-uh. I wanted to make it up to you. You know, after what I said yesterday, at the meeting. I overstepped and I was just angry and I didn’t mean to make you sad but I did and-” he stopped when Grantaire placed his hands on his shoulders,bewildered.

“You wanted to make it up to me and so, you decided that breaking and entering to vandalize my kitchen would’ve been a nice way to say you’re sorry?”

Yeah, Enjolras was definitely blushing.

Of course not! I wanted to make you a cake, but something went wrong and I’m rather sure your oven hates me, Grantaire.”

Grantaire blinked, “you wanted to bake a cake for me?”


“but you couldn’t, because my oven hates you?”


“Enjolras, you’re ridiculous.”

Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say in such a moment, because Enjolras decided the proper answer would be to shove him, - not that he could do that much of a damage, what with his tiny wirsts and Grantaire’s bulkier form, but Grantaire allowed himself to swing back, not wanting to anger him further. Not to mention that if Enjolras didn’t want him close, Grantaire wouldn’t force himself on him.

“Well, I’m sorry if I tried to do something nice for you,” and, he would’ve sounded more resentful, but he was still blushing and looking fairly adorable, Grantaire was growing rapidly overwhelmed by him.

Not getting an answer back, Enjolras bent down to retrieve his bag, strolling toward the front door, snapping Grantaire out of his daze.

His hand jumped forward, fingers closing around Enjolras’s wirst. The resulting pull plastered Enjolras’s back to his chest, and Grantaire’s other hand moved of his own volition, resting oh-so-light on Enjolras’s slim hip. Enjolras stiffened between his arms, and Grantaire dropped them immediately, taking a step back for good measure just as Enjolras turned around.

Enjolras’s cheeks were still tinted pink, but his eyes had a determinate light, and Grantaire almost fainted when he bit his lip.

“Grantaire,” he said, “I would very much like to kiss you right now.”

Was it possible to choke on air? Grantaire sure was trying. He felt his face burn red and he looked around, his kitchen was still half destroyed, the oven was still fuming slightly, Enjolras was still in front of him.

Yeah, Grantaire didn’t know anymore what was going on.

Enjolras was still looking at him, still blushing, his fist closed tightly at his sides. Grantaire breathed in and took a step closer, gulping what it felt like his heart down.

Tentatively, his hand rested on Enjolras’s shoulder again. “Enjolras, what was that?”

Grantaire didn’t want to sound so hopeful, but the love of his life had just asked to kiss him after destroying his kitchen and yeah, you get the point don’t you?

Enjolras sighed, looked down. “I’m making a mess, aren’t I? I’m sorry, I’ll just, yea I’ll get out of your apartment now.”

What, no. Enjolras, please explain to me what’s going on?”

Enjolras looked up at him from under his lashes, unintentionally stabbing him in the chest, “ your kitchen is still a mess…”

“We’ll think about it later. Come sit with me a moment? You need to tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head, because I’m loosing my mind here, Jo”

Enjolras blushed all over again, “you think my head is pretty?”

“I think all of you is pretty, please Enjolras, talk to me?”

They sat on the couch, far too close for Grantaire’s sanity.

Enjolras was wringing his hands together, Grantaire had never seen him look so nervous. “So,” he started, “yesterday. At the meeting.”

Grantaire nodded.

“Yesterday, at the meeting. I might have been carried away while arguing with you,” Enjolras’s eyes flicked up to look at him, “that was wrong of me. And that’s because–that’s because I was angry with you, because you showed up with that hickey on your neck and I got jealous, even if I know I have no right to be. Believe me I know, but I still am, and so I decided to make it up to you but I only made it worse, and then I blurted out I want to kiss you and now I’m rambling but Grantaire I like you, I really, really like you and I don’t want you to have other’s people hickeys on you neck and I know I have no right but- - uh? ”

Enjolras’s eyes snapped down to their now enterwined hands, “ Grantaire? ”

Grantaire, meanwhile, was having an hard time wrapping his head around everything Enjolras had said.

“ Enjolras, I think I’m about to faint. I think the best thing to do is to proceed in order, point after point.”

Enjolras nodded up at him.

“okay, first, that’s not an hickey, that’s a bruise. I started playing the violin.” “oh” “Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “point two, you don’t need to worry about making things worse because, and this takes us to point three, I really, really like you, too”

“you do?”

“how could I not?”

“Can we, uhm, can we kiss then?”

“Can we kiss, can we kiss? Enjolras, you just forced your way into my apartment to bake for me, killed my kitchen in the process and then told me you like me. Of course we can kiss. I will murder you, softly, and with lots of kisses. We won’t stop kissing for, like, hours. Come here, let’s start right now.”

Enjolras giggled. Grantaire kissed him. The fire alarm went off.

“Oh, God.”

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Grantaire has two guitars: Betzy and Caroline.

Caroline is the untouchable guitar,the holy guitar that no one can touch and costed three months worth of pay.

Betzy, on the other hand, it’s his older guitar,  full of stickers and writings, little doodles and glued-on scraps of papers. That’s because Betzy is the guitar he uses while composing  and the visual feedback helps I’m a lot cuz all of the amis have left their mark on Betzy’s black surface.


One evening they all meet at the Musain to have a drink, and Grantaire comes in late, throwing the battered guitar case on the table, catching  Jean’s attention:

“is that Caroline?”

“nuh-huh, that’s my old Betzy girl”

Jean squeaks

“I have my uniposca tonight!”

“go ahead then”

Grantaire hands him the guitar case and jean opens it to retrieve Betzy, drawing on one of the empty spaces left.

At the end of the evening the guitar gained two new doodles, a sticker and a poem on the side. Upon looking at it, observing all the marks left on its surface - The poem Jean wrote just for Betzy and glued right under the neck, Bahorel’s doodled panda , the glittered stars Courf made for pride, a page copied from combeferre’s favorite book, one of Musichetta’s stickers - and so on, Grantaire realizes Enjolras is the only one missing, but once asked, Enjolras’s answer is completely different from what he was expecting:

“I didn’t think I was allowed to”

“Jojo, you don’t need permission” - he hans him  the guitar and one of Jean’s uniposca - “please”

And Enj takes them and starts drawing an ugly little doodle of himself and Grantaire as cats, holding the French flag with their tails,

And it’s really, really bad because Enj is crap at drawing, but Grantaire still has the care to cover it in transparent nail polish 6 times to prevent it from erasing as soon as he gets home that evening.


I really have an obsession for Guitarist! Grantaire…

Also, thank you for asking me! I love ranting about my headcanons!!

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Grantaire, climbing through the Musain’s back room window in the middle of the meeting : sup everyone, sorry I’m late.

Enjolras : what the… Why didn’t you take the stairs?!

Grantaire : pissed off some dudes, didn’t want them to know where I was going.

Enjolras: How did you even climb all the way up?!

Grantaire, shrugging: I’m a ninja.

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Revolutionary boyfriends sharing their first apartment.

-They’re both surprised upon finding out how physical and affectionate they can be;

-They sleep tangled up in each other, a shapeless blob of limbs and curls and pale freckled skin pressed against a darker one, plush pillows and soft quilts swallowing them.;

-As strange as it may seems, Grantaire is always the first one to wake up, an unpleasant remain of his insomniac past. Now, though, waking up so early in the mornings feels like a blessing, when all it takes is the slightest tilt of his head to look at soft cheeks and dark eyelashes, and his heart quivers in his chest. Then, Enjolras burrows closer, cuddles under his arm, and Grantaire is close to bursting for how happy he feels.

-Enjolras is ashamed to find out just how fiercily possessive he is. Grantaire is his own person, Enjolras trusts him, but its still hard not to sit on his lap and stick his nose under his chin whenever they’re out and someone chats Grantaire up. He doesn’t do it, but he still wants to. He copes with his possessive side by leaving hickeys so high on Grantaire’s neck no shirt could cover them.

-They still fight, of course they do. Grantaire still drinks too much when he has a bad day, Enjolras gets still so focused on wathever cause he’s worrying his head on that he forgets everything else.

They have even more things to fight on, now. Domestic, wonderful things that threaten to make them smile even as they shout at each other from across the living room.

“Grantaire, could you please stop leaving your dirty socks on the bathroom floor?”


“You have to mop up the fucking floor after you shower, I was about to fall!”, “I forgot!”, “you always do!”


“there’s no milk”

“we have almond milk”

“I don’t like almond milk”

“Well I do, next time go and buy your own milk”

“you’re just fussing because you had to go grocery shopping for two weeks straight, aren’t you?”

“… Maybe”

“Next time just ask me to take turns instead of acting stroppy”


“It’s two in the morning, turn off that damn laptop and come to bed”

“mind your own business”

“you are my business”.

And it’s so heartwarmingly homely, it’s so painfully clear how much they care, even their arguing holds a side of tenderness in it.

-When he’s really stressed out, Enjolras find it shooting to color between the empty spaces of Grantaire’s tattoo sleeve

-They take turns cooking.

After Grantaire teached Enjolras how to cook, that is, because “You’re an adult, Enjolras. You can’t live on your own and still not be able to cook.”

“I don’t live on my own, I live with you

“I’m your boyfriend, not your personal chef. Take that apron and come here”


Eventually, Enjolras moves almost flawlessly in their kitchen, and it doesn’t matter if it took the sacrifice of half of their pans to get him there.

-Grantaire discovers how ticklish Enjolras is, and what a good day that is.

-“How is it possible for you to be so light when I know you eat like a beast? That’s not fair, Enjolras”

“Aren’t you glad? You can carry me around effortlessly”

“Why am I carrying you around again?”

“Because I’m tired and you love me.”

- The first time Grantaire called him darling Enjolras almost chocked on his morning coffee, his face a worrying red.

“what was that?”

“didn’t you like it?”

“no, that’s not- that’s not what I said.”

“Alright then, darling.”

-Grantaire is a plant dad, and it’s the most adorable thing Enjolras has ever seen.

Then, he manages to kill Sirio, Grantaire’s dearest cacti.

“I left for two days. How do you even kill a cacti in only two days? How is it even possible?!”

“Oh, Grantaire, I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. I thought it needed water but I think I used too much.”

“You think? Enjolras, he drowned.”

But Enjolras looks so ashamed and sad when he asks him “are you mad at me?” that Grantaire melts on the spot.

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The les mis fandom is, like, the funniest thing because we’re all lowkey depressed gays who read the goddamn brick for fun and moan on about the 3 page scentence and the narrative of the priest, but we’re so meme about it like this is a 19th century French tragedy and we’re like ‘oh, mood’ and I fucking love it.

Not to mention all the weird shit victor hugo did he ate oranges like fuckin apples, peel and all.

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It was a cold midsummer morning, completely bathed in the delicate shades of blue and pink preceding the rising of the sun, still asleep under the calm blanket of the sea.

The placid oscillation of the barely rippled waves met its end in a sweet caress on the banks; a cold , albeit light wind, crisped the dunes, transporting grains of sand in its wake, and nothing, in the silence, could be heard except its peaceful sliding from the banks, up, up to the top of the beach, to quietly play between the shells and bells of a small wind rattle swaying on a clear larch wood patio.

To keep company with the wind and the waves, a figure sat, curled up on a swing, also made of wood.

Enjolras, shoulders wrapped in a soft blue blanket and blond curls flying in the breeze, gently rocked, the pressure of the sole of one of his feet, bare on the floor, barely moved the rocking chair.

The wood felt raw on his tender skin.

He took a deep breath. The cold, salty air of Pont Ferret filled his lungs, shooting his mind after a sleepless night.

He still had problems with falling asleep in new places.

The fairy lights dangling from the patio light up, catching his attention. He turned toward the door in time to see Grantaire stepping barefoot outside, holding two coffee cups, one of which he handed to Enjolras. Wordlessly, Enjolras took it between his cold hands, smiling up at Grantaire.

Grantaire sat beside him, rocking gently with him, one of his legs bent beside Enjolras’s hip.

 The wind perked up, shaking the wind rattle and ruffling the waves. The sea oats bushes swayed with it, little pinpricks of dust flying away.

Grantaire placed the plant of his foot on Enjolras’s calf, calling his attention back. “You couldn’t sleep?”

Not turning around, Enjolras shook his head and slowly, softly, leaned back to rest with his shoulders on Grantaire’s chest, his blonde head nestled up under Grantaire’s chin.

He shivered.

“You’re so cold”, he said, and with a light shake the blanket fell from his shoulders, “Thake this”.

Sliding even closer, his legs bracketing Enjolras’s figure, Grantaire placed the blanket around them both.

Enjolras nestled back on his chest again, the blue of his eyes focused on the nature bursting around them, “This place is so beautiful, I’m really glad we came”.


uhh I’m not sure what this is? jus something to calm my nerves I guess, I wantend soft, calm vibes. I don’t know if I was able to acieve them but I tried …

Anyway, that’s a bit diffrent from the usual things i write, and if you see any kind of errors please tell me, english is not my first language and I still have problems… ughh

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I have this headcanon in which Grantaire mock-gifts Enjolras a few volumes of “the rose of Versailles”, but not really mock-gift because Oscar always reminded him of Enjolras, and it ends up with Enjolras fucking loving it, and, maybe there are some points he doesn’t agree with but Oscar’s fierceness? Her righteousness? Her love for Patria and for the people? He’s fucking up for it.

And he never paid much attention to these things but he still downloads the whole manga and binge watches the anime on YouTube and cries his heart out because “yeah I’d die for Patria too” and stuffs his mouth with popcorn while crying.

Then Grantaire gifts him an hand made poster of Oscar standing in front of the Baistille, sporting the Franch tricolor cockade on her chest, and goes “ I didn’t think you’d like it, but then you did, and Oscar always made me think of you, then last night I drew this and I think it should be yours because, you know, Patria and everything that comes with ” and Enjolras wants to kiss him so bad.


I was having Oscar feelings and Enjolras feeling and Barricade day is coming up and please don’t judge me I’m weak.

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Grantaire couldn’t even say the protest had gone wrong.

That’s because there was no protest at all, and that’s because no one showed up.

Well, no one beside himself - yeah, you read that right-, Enjolras, of course, and the rest of the amis, ready with banners and shirts and pins and painted faces and–

And Enjolras didn’t even look sad, he looked fucking heartbroken, as he climbed on the back seat of Combeferre’s car, because c'mon, I’t’s been two hours, it will rain soon, we need to go.

And he kept looking like that, kept it to himself even once they arrived at Combeferre’s flat and sprawled themselves all over his living room, murmuring in small groups and patting each other’s shoulders, half smiling and comforting as much as they could.

Grantaire wasn’t even surprised for the lack of people, but still, his heart felt smaller in his chest, every beat a painful stab as he was forced to witness from afar the fire dimmed in Enjolras’s eyes.

Enjolras didn’t even smile when Courfeyrac hugged him, his eyes not leaving the floor.

Grantaire’s heart shrinked a bit more in his chest.


Three days later, Enjolras missed their weekly scheduled meeting.

A worried Combeferre spoke in his place, half of his focus away, held captive by the vacant chair at the head of the table and really, they all were feeling the same. Grantaire didn’t even realize what he was doing when he left the meeting, throwing a “I’m gonna go talk to him” over his shoulders.

He stopped short after two blocks, talk to him to tell him what, exactly? Grantaire really wasn’t the right person to cheer him up about these kind of things, right? But perhaps…

Perhaps he could replace the motivational talk with something more in his cords…

He grinned at his own horrible pun as he spinned on his heels, marching toward his home to retrieve his guitar.


Enjolras was halfway through his fourth cup of tea when the singing started, and he wouldn’t have minded, really, if not for the extremely familiar voice and the fact that it seemed to come right from outside his flat and Cindy Lauper? Really?

He raised up and tiptoed toward his door to peek outside from the peephole.

Grantaire was there, sitting in the hallway with his back against the wall, quietly serenading his closed door with a heartfelt version of “true colors”.

Enjolras slowly opened the door, and Grantaire looked up, lacing their eyes together.

“If this world makes you crazy

And you’ve taken all you can bear

You call me up

Because you know I’ll be there”

Enjolras went to sit beside him, resting his head on Grantaire’s shoulder.

“And I’ll see your true colors

Shining through

I see your true colors

And that’s why I love you

So don’t be afraid to let them show”

The first hiccup left his lips without him noticing, but Grantaire did, and stilled his fingers on the guitar’s neck.

Enjolras whimpered.

Grantaire nudged him, speaking softly, “did I make it worse?”

Enjolras shook his head, “ you made me feel like myself again”.

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Here’s some biker Grantaire with a pose I shamelessly took from a picture because I can’t draw bikes for the life of me I swear. (And that’s also the reason why I had to use only shadows.)

Anyway, Enjolras was a bit overwhelmed and had to leave to go and sit down. Away from Grantaire. Far away from Grantaire and his bike and his leather jacket and his boots.

Grantaire is confused because what did I do now why did he leave?

Courfeyrac is so exasperated his eye tic is back.

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hi my name is Enjolras, the marble lover of liberty, and I have coldly beautiful chiselled features (that’s how I got my name) with long fair lashes, blue eyes, hair flying in the wind, pure lips, and exquisite teeth and a lot of people tell me I look like Antinous wild (AN: if u don’t know who he is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Robespierre but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I was walking outside the barricade. A lot of national guards stared at me. I put up my bayonet at them.

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