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kjack89 · 2 years ago

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Hope He Buys You Flowers

For @themiserablesmonth Day 6: Flower.

E/R, modern AU, developing relationship.

Read on AO3.

As the Les Amis meeting broke up, Enjolras was surprised to see Joly, Bossuet and Grantaire huddled together, their usual merriment somewhat dimmed. “What’s going on?” he asked Courfeyrac, who could generally be counted on to know the latest gossip.

Courfeyrac followed Enjolras’s gaze. “Oh, Grantaire’s boyfriend broke up with him,” he said.

Enjolras resisted the urge to curl his lip at the idea of calling some guy Grantaire was hooking up with his ‘boyfriend’, but he knew the semantic would be lost on Courfeyrac. Besides which, Courfeyrac would almost certainly use it as further ammunition for his belief that Enjolras harbored some kind of romantic feelings for Grantaire.

Which he very well might, but Courfeyrac was the exact last person he planned on ever having that conversation with.

Well, second to last, at least. Grantaire was probably last.

“You don’t need to look so gleeful about it,” Combeferre said in an undertone from Enjolras’s other side, and Enjolras quickly turned his attention to the papers in front of him.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered.

Combeferre just gave him a look. “Sure you don’t.”

But at least unlike Courfeyrac, he was willing to drop the topic, and all three of them returned their attention where it rightly belonged, to their work.

As the hour grew later, however, the noise from the back corner of the room still occupied by Joly, Bossuet and Grantaire grew exponentially louder, which Enjolras imagined had something to do with the pile of empty beer bottles that also grew. Combeferre threw down his pen with something like irritation. “See, this is why I always studied in the library,” he said sourly.

Courfeyrac quickly turned his laugh into a cough. “Walk me home, sourpuss?” he said, fluttering his eyelashes at Combeferre, who blushed.

“Might as well,” Combeferre said after a long pause. “It’s not like I’m getting any work done here anyway.”

He looked expectantly at Enjolras, who waved them on. “I’m still going to try to get through this,” he told them. “Let’s reconvene tomorrow morning for coffee.”

Courfeyrac fired off a sloppy salute before looping his arm through Combeferre’s and tugging him towards the door. Enjolras just shook his head and glanced back down at his papers, thinking a little sourly to himself that Courfeyrac was lucky that he didn’t give them the same treatment Courfeyrac gave him and Grantaire.

Of course, by now Enjolras’s concentration was thoroughly ruined, not that it mattered, since he cared somewhat less about actually reading through the article and quite a bit more about listening to Joly and Bossuet’s attempts to console Grantaire.

Though judging by the tone of their conversation, they had shifted somewhat from consoling Grantaire to roundly abusing his ex. “Y’know that song 10 Things I Hate About You?” Grantaire asked.

Bossuet screwed up his face as he thought about it. “D’you mean the movie?”

“No, no, no, the one from the TikToks.”

Joly frowned. “Isn’t that by Kesha?”

“Justice for Kesha!” Bossuet cheered, hoisting his beer in a toast.

Grantaire sighed loudly. “How the fuck am I the most sober among us right now?” he complained, promptly ruining his own statement by almost falling off of his chair. When he had righted himself, he told them, “No, the song called 10 Things I Hate About You. It’s used in a bunch of TikToks. The singer goes through a list of ten things she hates about her ex.” He took a swig of beer. “Well, I could list a helluva lot more than 10.”

“Do it,” Joly said, with no small amount of enthusiasm.

Grantaire held his hand up to tick the things he disliked about his ex off on his fingers. “Ten, he wasn’t that cute. Nine, he wore khaki cargo shorts. In public.”

Bossuet snorted. “Tacky,” he said. “But don’t let Marius hear you, he loves his cargo shorts.”

“Eight, on our very first official date he showed up at my place with no wine, no flowers, no chocolates, nothing. Like where the fuck was the romance?”

Joly scratched his cheek. “Didn’t you two meet on Grindr? I didn’t think romance was usually involved.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “That’s why I said ‘official’ date,” he said impatiently. “This was after we had fucked the first time, when a boy is entitled to flowers. Or financial compensation.”

“But only if he gives you mesothelioma,” Bossuet interjected sagely.

Enjolras was fairly certain that he was actively losing brain cells listening to this conversation, and was about to excuse himself when Grantaire sighed heavily. “I know he was a douche,” he said, his voice soft, and sad, and Enjolras paused. “But it was really nice to have someone, even for a little bit. Even if he never brought me flowers or whatever. It was nice not to feel alone, y’know?”

Something in Enjolras’s heart ached to hear Grantaire say that, and he stared down at the papers in front of him so hard the words blurred. “You’re not alone, R,” Joly said soppily.

“Yeah, you have us,” Bossuet added loyally.

Grantaire barked a laugh and ran a hand across his face. “Yeah, but neither of you will eat my ass, will you?”

Joly let out a wheezing noise as Bossuet cocked his head, seemingly considering it. “If you asked nicely, maybe.”

As Joly punched him in the arm, Enjolras decided it really was well past time that he left, and he gathered his things together and shoving them in his bag before standing, hoisting his bag on one shoulder. He hesitated before casually walking over to their table and pausing by Grantaire. “I heard what happened,” he said quietly, “and I’m sorry.”

Grantaire looked up at him. “Are you?” he asked bluntly.

“Sorry that you’re hurting, yes,” Enjolras told him honestly.

“Only hurting I will be is when the hangover hits tomorrow,” Grantaire told him, with a crooked half-smile. “But thank you.”

Enjolras considered patting him on the shoulder but decided against it, instead just nodding at Joly and Bossuet before leaving. As he stepped outside of the Musain, he checked his watch to see if he had time to make one quick stop before heading home.

— — — — —

There were a number of things that Grantaire considered himself an expert at, but pretty much anyone would agree that he was an expert at be at being drunk.

Which was good, because it took all of his expertise to make it back to his place without stumbling into the street and getting hit by a car or, worse, passing out on the sidewalk.

Joly and Bossuet had insisted he take an Uber – at least, Grantaire was pretty sure that’s what they meant, Joly kept calling it a ‘super’ and Bossuet, giggling, kept interjecting, “Pooper!” in a sing-song voice – but Grantaire didn’t mind the walk. It cleared his head and helped sober him up enough that he hopefully wouldn’t wind up passed out in his bathtub.

Again.

“Home sweet home,” he sighed as he finally reached the doorway to his apartment building, and he only dropped his keys four times on the way from the doorway to his apartment door.

The fifth time he dropped them was in surprise, because propped against his door was a bouquet of beautiful red roses. He did something like a quadruple-take, glancing both ways up and down the hallway to see if maybe there’d been some kind of mistake before he bent and picked the bouquet up.

He noticed a note tucked amongst the flowers and plucked it out, squinting to read it, though his eyes widened when he noticed the very familiar handwriting:

For all the flowers he never gave you. —E

“Well I’ll be goddamned,” Grantaire said, a slow grin spreading across his face, and it didn’t fade as he let himself into his apartment.

He barely even noticed that he didn’t feel alone anymore.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #developing relationship #the miserables month 2022

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aromantic-enjolras · 4 years ago

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Les Misérables fic recs

I did a Fic Rec list when I first entered the fandom, centered around ExR fics (because that was what the OP wanted), and I’ve been itching to do another one, less romantic-centered, for a while. So here you go! I hope you can find something cool you didn’t know!

Note: I’m tried to choose a single fic by each author to give you something more concrete, but every single one of these authors has other fics I love.

Anything by fraternite! ( @takethewatch here on tumblr). I haven’t read all their stories yet, but I’m ready to vouch for them. Their platonic stories are amazing, and more or less the main reason I’ve been obsessing over Queerplatonic Triumvirate lately. As recommendations, “Home for Christmas” is a short and sweet fic about Courfeyrac helping Marius with family issues. “L’appel du vide” is a Canon Era platonic Triumvirate fic that will destroy your heart. “Carry On” is a 50K-word fic centering about Feuilly getting to a new town and finding a place for himself.

“Small kindness” by fangirl_squee ( @mariusperkins here on tumblr). Canon Era. Grantaire pays prostitutes to model for him, and they form a bond. Short and beautiful all around.

“Wounds by hearsay”, by buffintruder ( @buffintruder here on tumblr). Grantaire is lithoromantic -a flavour of aromanticism where you do fall in love but you don’t want your feelings returned- and he hears someone commenting that Enjolras loves him back. His anxiety is so well-written, it’s like a punch in the stomach. Happy ending.

“Ghosting”, by Enjoloras ( @enjoloras on tumblr? It makes sense, but there are no links on their Ao3, so if that’s not you, sorry for the tag!). Canon Era. After the Revolution, Marius discovers that Enjolras was trans and had a kid with Grantaire. Cosette and him decide to adopt him. Centers around Marius’ grief and his relationship with the child. So beautiful and heartbreaking. The author has several other trans!Enjolras fics, and they are all amazing.

“The Golden Mean”, by KateAtTheClose (no tumblr to be found). Canon Era. When Grantaire’s alcoholism starts having serious consequences on his health, he is forced to quit cold turkey. Enjolras will have to help him with withdrawal while coming to terms with his feelings for the cynic. It is an ExR fic, but it would lose nothing if it was Gen, the romance is not the focus of the story, and the other Amis are also given a lot of time. Trigger warning for very serious withdrawal symptoms.

“Darkly Devoted”, by OpensUp4Nobody ( @opens-up-4-nobody here on tumblr). Set in the Harry Potter universe, Grantaire is a curse-breaker who gets called to help Enjolras, who is half-Veela and has been hit with a curse that has turned him completely feral. Yes, this is technically an ExR fic, but “will they end up together” will be the last of your worries. Every time you think Grantaire’s position can’t get any worse, it will. Seriously dark fic, but so worth it.

“The Polyphonic Tides of Revolution”, by defractum (nyargles) ( @defractum here on tumblr). Space opera through and through. Enjolras -asexual, agender, not entirely human?- is the heir of the Galactic Empire and he decides to flee his life and bring the Empire down. In his flight he encounters Grantaire and his band of space pirates. Amazing worldbuilding, great characters, gripping storyline. ExR fic.

“And Let Us Speak Truthfully (And Let Us Be Clear)”, by DannyPURO ( @dannypuro on tumblr). Canon Era. Grantaire keeps taking Enjolras out on... dates... but they never amount to anything more than that, and Enjolras is going out of his mind. Very funny.

“You never have to wonder; you never have to ask”, by gamesformay ( @macklesufficient on tumblr). Modern AU. When their uprising didn’t go as planned, Enjolras went to prison for terrorism and Grantaire left Paris for good. Eighteen months later, Marius is getting married and Grantaire needs to go back to Paris for the wedding. He will encounter a newly-out Enjolras, who is not exactly the same person anymore... One of the very few fics I’ve read that incorporate the Barricades to a Modern setting in a meaningful way, and also explores the aftermath of a failed revolution they’ve all survived. Enjolras and Grantaire are adorable while being interesting.

Hope you’ve gotten some enjoyment out of this list! Tell me if you have any other rec’s, and hit me up if you read them and you want to talk about them!

#Les Misérables #text posts #long posts #my posts #fanfiction #Enjolras #Grantaire #Feuilly #Queerplatonic Triunvirate #ships #ExR #recommendations

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vivalamusaine · 4 years ago

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Les Mis Rare Pair Week - Bahorel & Enjolras: Minutes at the Musain

August 26: Friendship! (two days late)

Character Focus: Enjolras and Bahorel - (platonic)

Description: Bahorel and Enjolras are the only ones to show one night for Les Amis De L’ABC. In lieu of a meeting, they share stories of their friends, talk of old memories, discuss theoretical punches to the face and create fraudulent meeting minutes. Modern AU

Words: 2485

Hurrying into the Musain, Enjolras was expecting to be met with a boisterous crowd of tired and overworked friends ready to greet him, but opening the door to the back room of the cafe he was met with an almost empty room. Only one person was seated at the table across from him. Bahorel looked up from his phone and gave him a small wave.

“Are we early…. or late? or is everybody else late?” Enjolras asked with one more confused look around the room. The chaos and stress of exam season always had Enjolras slightly turned around and stressed for time, but usually les amis de l'abc was the exception to his frantic schedule. In the four years since he’d formed it he hadn’t once missed a meeting, and had only been late a handful of occasions that were completely out of his control.

“None of the above!” Bahorel said with a grin and gestured for a bewildered Enjolras to sit in the free seat across from him, he did so with a curious tilt of his head, waiting for explanation. “Have you checked the group chat? It’s just me tonight. ”

“My phones dead,” Enjolras frowned as he placed his messenger bag on the empty chair beside him, another frightful side effect of his busy schedule was that he occasionally forgot to charge it overnight. “All I know is Joly and Combeferre won’t be here. I still can’t believe they’re actually interning at a real hospitals now.”

It felt like just yesterday he’d met them at an orientation party in their first year of university. Fresh faced and bold and excited for the future. They had all felt so mature and invincible then, but they had been practically children.

“Ah, they grow up so fast,” Bahorel replied wistfully, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “Well, I have the full litany of pathetic excuses in the chat, let me enlighten you.” He held up his phone and cleared his throat loudly.

“Jehan has come down with a touch of melancholy, can’t bring themselves to leave the bed. Feuilly just came back from a double shift and can’t function like a normal human today — his words, he sends his deepest apologies, Bossuet is desperately trying to cram last minute for his final tomorrow, Eponine is working and took Gavroche with her, Musichetta’s got plans, Grantaire’s dead, Courf is-”

“Dead?” Enjolras interrupted with a horrified expression.

“Yeah, from last night. We went a bit overboard celebrating his guest spot in the gallery. All his pieces sold and all the champagne was free,” Bahorel grinned. “I tried to wake him up three times before I left but he wasn’t having it.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said with a relieved smile. “What were you saying about Courfeyrac?”

“Helping a friend outside of our group move apartments. Can you believe it? The traitor!”

“And let me guess, Marius and Cosette are on a date?” Enjolras said with an amused roll of his eyes. His annoyance was more for show than anything, he didn’t actually mind all that much that they’d missed the last three meetings to run off on some spontaneous romantic adventure together, he was happy for them. It was just becoming a little predictable.

“Yeah, but they have to be forgiven this time,” Bahorel said with a knowing smile. “It’s the most important night of their romantic life for a very important question.”

It took a while for the meaning of these words to hit him completely, but when Enjolras realized what Bahorel meant his eyes went and his mouth fell open slightly. “Marius is proposing?”

“No actually, Cosette is. I think she realized that boy would have to trip over himself for another two years before he could even think of mustering up the courage to ask, and she’s impatient as anything to get married. I can’t tell you how unbearable it is to watch ‘Say Yes To The Dress’ with her. That’s supposed to be my cool down show! It shouldn’t make me more stressed! Plus, she’s always talking over Monte to talk about her dream dress and that should be like a federal crime or something. I can’t wait to go gown shopping for her, I’m going to be such a bitch when she tries on her sweetheart neckline princess ball gown. I’ll cause a big scene about how it's totally not the dress for her and I’ll guilt her into trying on an ugly poofy sleeved lace a-line.”

“No, you won’t,” Enjolras laughed fondly. “You’ll fold and cry immediately the moment she comes out in that dress.”

“Fuck, you’re right! I’m getting emotional just thinking about it.”

“Has it really been two years for them?” Enjolras placed his chin absentmindedly in his hand. “Everyone seems to be growing up.”

“Except for us, of course.” Bahorel winked. “Young, wild, and free forever! A youth unbridled by time and motivated for a fresh new world!”

Read the rest on AO3

#enjolras #bahorel #enjolras and bahorel #les mis rare pair week #les mis rare pairs week #les mis rare pair #grantaire #les amis de l'abc #yes i know it is the 28th but i had a very busy week ahhhhh #my writing #my fics #no plot #friendship fic #les miserable fan fiction #les mis fanfic

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thevagueambition · 5 years ago

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A. what’s your favourite fandom to write?B. what’s your favourite fandom to read?

...these are such simple questions yet I managed ro write this long a response dear gods lol

I’m not sure I have favourite fandom to write, really... there’s a reason most of the fics on my AO3 are for different fandoms, I’m not really someone so consistent as to dedicate myself to a meaningful degree to one or two.

I suppose Harry Potter is certainly one I find very easy to write in, with my to this day still near-encyclopedic knowledge of the universe... I prefer to be able to use the terms that would be used in canon and that can become a frustrating exercise for fandoms I’m not as well-versed in (eg having to look up what Star Wars calls glass or showers or w/e -- much more frustrating for smaller fandoms with fewer wiki articles, but you get the idea) and with Harry Potter even if I don’t remember exactly I basically always remember part of the word or where it is mentioned. Similarly, I don’t have that nagging fear that I’m forgetting some detail about a character that would contradict something I’m doing with them lmao.

I certainly like writing Les Mis a lot as well, but given that I’m not really interested in writing modern AU anymore, that requires much more work and imo how you write Les Amis is always an interpretation and in some ways that also makes it more difficult.

As for reading, I’m similarly inconsistent. I enjoy reading Les Mis fic immensely when I find fic I like but I’m very picky with Les Mis fic, there are a lot of tropes that pull me out of the story because they annoy me. I’m a bit like that with everything, but especially with Les Mis. I think Dragon Age is one I enjoy reading where my tastes are less stringent, but I don’t read it super often. Anyway, my reading behavior is usually very “so what are we obsessed with this week chief” and then I go read that lol

#thanks for asking #this was way too long #pilferingapples

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lesmisholidayexchange · 5 years ago

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Two Pinch Hitters Needed

We’re looking for some pinch hitters to fill two assignments for the Les Mis Holiday Exchange.

Works will be due at 5pm UTC on December 24th (what time is that for me?).

Prompts are under the cut. Please contact [email protected] or DM us with your AO3 username and which pinch hit you’d like to fill.

Thanks in advance to everyone who shows an interest! =D

UPDATE! Both pinch hits now covered! Thank you all!!!!

Pinch Hit #1 COVERED! Thank you!

Request 1 by Avix Pairings: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables) Characters: Enjolras (Les Misérables), Grantaire (Les Misérables), Les Amis de l'ABC

Summary: Enjoltaire-centric but any of the other characters (extended Amis, JVJ etc) are totally fine. Some mutual pining or obliviousess, and general fluff would be ideal! Hurt/comfort and a little angst are ok as long as it ends well. Canon-Era or Modern!AU (even high-school, Hogwarts, soulmates and reincarnation AUs) are both fine, hurt/comfort and a little angst are ok as long as it ends well. If it's Christmas-ey, all the better! Please keep it nice without gore or death or too explicit violence.

Request 2 by Avix Pairings: Cosette Fauchelevent/Éponine Thénardier Characters: Éponine Thénardier, Cosette Fauchelevent, Les Amis de l'ABC

Summary: Two dumb bisexuals who've been close friends for a while realise they're actually head over heels for one another, but are also convinced that the other only wants to be friends. Basically oblivious mutual pining in a Modern!AU. Shenanigans including other Amis and secondary characters (if it's not asking too much), much awkwardness. Happy fluffy ending. Make it Christmas-ey if you want!

Request 3 by Avix Pairings: Cosette Fauchelevent/Éponine Thénardier, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta Characters: Les Amis de l'ABC, Marius Pontmercy, Musichetta (Les Misérables), Jean Valjean, Gavroche Thénardier, Azelma Thénardier

Summary: Found Family in a Modern!AU setting Les Amis + Marius, Musichetta, the Thénardier kids and any other character from the book, really (paired as you like apart from enjoltaire, JBM and eposette) enjoy the holiday season. Jean Valjean is everybody's dad and everything is cheesy and happy (or at least ends happily after some little drama).

Pinch Hit #2 COVERED!!!! Thank you!

Request 1 by ThebanSacredBand Characters: Combeferre (Les Misérables) Jean "Jehan" Prouvaire

Summary: Canon era, these two being really excited about some new scientific discovery/philosophical debate/etc. Either platonic or romantic, I don't really mind.

Request 2 by ThebanSacredBand Character: Enjolras (Les Misérables)

Summary: Asexual (and possibly aromantic) Enjolras having a close support network of friends and learning that its ok to be emotionally open and physically close to people without it being necessarily thought of as flirting/whatever. Modern AU

Request 3 by ThebanSacredBand Relationship: Combeferre & Courfeyrac & Enjolras (Les Misérables) Characers: Enjolras (Les Misérables), Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Combeferre (Les Misérables)

Summary: Found Family! I would love to see them celebrating a festivity of some sort as a family as they can't go home for whatever reason. Could also be the rest of Les Amis but especially the triumvirate. Modern AU

Request 4 by ThebanSacredBand Relationship: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables) Charaters: Combeferre (Les Misérables), Grantaire (Les Misérables), Enjolras (Les Misérables)

Summary: Modern AU, Background established Enjolras/Grantaire and room-mates Combeferre and Enjolras, with Combeferre and Grantaire becoming very close friends bonding over weird and cool facts while waiting for Enjolras or while Enjolras is busy doing other things or maybe Enjolas is in hospital or something? Possibility of endgame OT3 but I don't mind.

Request 5 by ThebanSacredBand

Characters: Enjolras (Les Misérables) Feuilly (Les Misérables)

Summary: Modern AU. Platonic partners Enjolras and Feuilly being soft and helping look after each-other when one of them inevitably overworks themselves

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queer-cosette · 5 years ago

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Coco Writes

OK, so I know I’m not always great about summarising my fics on here; I usually just post links. But here is a masterpost of all my fics!

Les Miserables

The Leader And The Cynic

Rated T

1/1 chapter; 1226 words

Summary:

A series of moments from the relationship of Enjolras and Grantaire. Because now my happiness depends on the happiness of fictional revolutionaries. Modern AU

Read on FF.net

Series - On Se Sent Comme Par Magie

The Destiny Of Cosette

Rated T

No Archive Warnings Apply

22/22 chapters; 88,475 words

Summary:

Cosette is an ordinary Parisian teenager - until one day, she stumbles across a powerful Faery being attacked by an ogre! And when she inadvertently uses magic to protect the Faery, Enjolras, she realises that she’s maybe not as normal as she thought. Enjolras invites her to attend Faery school in another dimension with him, where they become friends with three other faeries - Courfeyrac, Jehan and Éponine - and form Les Amis. But all is not well in the Magic Dimension -

What’s the deal with Grantaire, Marius, Bahorel and Combeferre - four cute wizards from another school?

What are Patron-Minette - a trio of witches - planning?

And who is Fantine, the mysterious Nymph who keeps appearing in Cosette’s dreams?

Read on AO3

The Shadow Phoenix

Rated T

No Archive Warnings Apply

26/26 chapters; 165,435 words

Summary:

Les Amis start their second year at Musain College for Faeries, and right off the bat, strange things begin happening in the Magic Dimension. Musichetta, a water Faery, arrives at the school begging for help to rescue her friends, the Piskies, and Patron-Minette have busted out of rehabilitation with the help of a strange skeletal knight - who matches Musichetta’s description of the Piskies’ kidnapper. With the help of Musichetta, Feuilly - a Wizard and new member of Les Amis -, and Professor Mabeuf, the wise new philosophy teacher, this year promises to be as exciting as the last!

Read on AO3

The Warlock Of The Flame

Rated T

Major Character Death

18/25 chapters; 122,516 words

Summary:

Cosette’s life is going great! With Lord Méchant defeated, her final year at Musain College for Faeries is going to be normal (for once); her relationship with Marius is going spectacularly (and it looks like there’s a proposal in the pipeline!); and there’s nothing to suggest that the Magical Dimension is in any danger. But then news of something horrible happening on Musichetta’s home planet reaches the ears of Les Amis - and according to Headmaster Myriel, there’s only one Warlock who could have caused it. As Cosette and her friends face off with the culprit, it becomes more and more apparent that his true nature and past are darker than any of them could have imagined...

Read on AO3

***

Total Drama

Dear Diary

Rated M

Major Character Death, Reference To Eating Disorders and Attempted/Implied Sexual Assault

9/? chapters; 27,617 words

Summary:

"Dear Diary - My teen angst bullshit now has a body count."

Heather Chandler. Gwen Duke. Lindsay McNamara. Courtney Sawyer. Together they make up the most powerful clique at Westerburg High. Most people would die to get into it.

Courtney would kill to get out of it.

Enter Duncan Dean. He has a way with women, a way with words, and a very special way with a gun.

"It's God versus my boyfriend, and God's losing..."

Read on AO3

Read on FF.net

A Little Fall Of Rain

Rated T

Major Character Death

1/1 chapter; 663 words

Summary:

In the midst of the July Uprising, Gwen Thénardier takes a bullet for long time friend Duncan Pontmercy, despite his love for Courtney and his obliviousness towards her feelings for him. Gwen as Éponine, Duncan as Marius. Based off the scene in the musical. I don't own TDI or Les Mis. Warning: Character Death.

Read on FF.net

Freak Out, Let It Go

Rated K+ (G for AO3 users)

1/1 chapter; 271 words

Summary:

Alternatively called ‘What Happens When I listen To Avril Lavigne For Three Hours Straight’. One-shot starring our favourite crazy redhead. Enjoy.

Read on FF.net

Bubblegum Bitch

Rated T

1/1 chapter; 539 words

Summary:

Heather is shiny and perfect on the outside, but on the inside she's a backstabbing user - a mess.

Read on FF.net

I Wish

Rated T

Implied Character Death

1/1 chapter; 357 words

Summary:

When Courtney doesn't show up after TDWT's finale, Duncan does some serious thinking about the past.

Read on FF.net

***

Miraculous Ladybug

mArinette

Rated T

No Archive Warnings Apply

7/8 chapters

Summary:

Marinette tells a lie. A pretty big lie. And soon one lie turns into another, and before she knows it, she's going out of her way to keep the lie going.

When Lila lies, it's sloppy. But Marinette's lie is all too believable.

At least no one else is getting hurt by her lie.

But Marinette's about to find out how hard it is to be known as the school slut.

An Easy A AU.

Read on AO3

Series - A Miraculous Musical

Cute Boys With Short Haircuts

Rated G

No Archive Warnings Apply

1/1 chapter

Summary:

Marinette sees Adrien and Kagami kissing and jumps to conclusions. Hurt and upset, she heads up to her balcony to do the one thing that cheers her up: singing a really angsty song.

Adrien had nothing to do with the kiss. He just wants to ask Marinette out. He passes her balcony as Chat Noir and hears the most beautiful singing voice... but the song is so sad. And then he sticks around just a little too long, and catches sight of something he shouldn't have...

Read on AO3

Act One: Whalesong

Rated T

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

2/? chapters

Summary:

Marinette's family receives tragic news, and suddenly her cousin becomes her roommate. With her only possessions being a small suitcase of clothes and a bizarre hair-clip, anyone connected to María Sugrue-Dupain begins to become infected with some sort of singing virus - in which they have no choice but to sing about their problems. Ms Bustier, ever resourceful, takes the opportunity to direct the class in a production of the musical 'Heathers', and there is drama on-stage and off it.

But why does the singing virus exist at all? Why is Gabriel Agreste suddenly so interested in Adrien's schoolmates? And seriously, is Nathalie OK? The Gorilla wants to know if he should call someone. Should he call someone?

Read on AO3

Series - Let Me Be Loved

More Adventurous

Rated G

No Archive Warnings Apply

1/1 chapter

Summary:

"And it's only doubts that we're counting On fingers broken long ago. I read with every broken heart We should become more adventurous..."

As Marinette sings at a Kitty Section concert, Adrien starts to notice her in a new light. Unfortunately, he's too late, even if he's not quite sure what he's too late for.

100% inspired by 'More Adventurous' by Rilo Kiley

Read on AO3

***

Equestria Girls

Dazzlings

Rated M

Contains Major Character Death, Reference To Eating Disorders and Attempted/Implied Sexual Assault

13/13 chapters

Summary:

"Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw! Nancy Drew is onto you, Sunset."

Sunset Shimmer wished she was popular, and she became popular -

And suddenly she wished she wasn’t popular.

When Sunset is faced with a fate seemingly worse than death, mysterious new kid Flash Sentry suggests she take matters into her own hands and use drain cleaner, Ich Lüge bullets, and adult ignorance to make the world a better place.

But is his vision of a world without bullies really worth the cost?

Read on AO3

Read on FF.net

***

Original Work

Our Relationship Was A Rainbow

Rated T

No Archive Warnings Apply

1/1 chapter

Summary:

An original piece following the course of a relationship that in spite of glowing all the colours of the rainbow, ended grey and cloudy.

Read on AO3

An Anthology Of Verse, written by a traumatised (yet certified) idiot

Rated G

No Archive Warnings Apply

2/? chapters

Summary:

I asked my followers on Tumblr if they'd be interested in reading some of my original poetry if I posted it here. Four likes and a comment saying "Yes please!!" is more than good enough for me. I hope you enjoy it!

(Note: A lot of this was initially written a few years ago - or even longer. Some of it has - naturally - been edited since my initial draft, but some of it may have a different style to my more recent writing.)

(Another Note: I will be posting new poems as they come to me, or I rediscover them. I will also update tags as I go.)

Read on Ao3

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bookdragon6127 · 5 years ago

Text

One Gay More!

I’m working on a massive (planning 60 chapters) fanfic that is now Seven chapters in with two more to be expected within the next week. HUGE thank you to my best friend Julia (TheGothicFrenchFry on AO3) who is a fantastic editor, help me with all of my fics (even those to be posted), and gives me a lot of inspiration; all in all she is a writer’s best friend. It is an Enjoltaire modern AU with a lot of hurt/comfort and fluff. The first chapter is really short and is going to be below the cut as a sort of trailer. If you read it and like it, kudos/comments are very appreciated!

Here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18452360 Enjoy!

Fandom: Les Misérables - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire, Enjolras & Les Amis de l'ABC, Enjolras/Montparnasse (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy/Éponine Thénardier, Combeferre/Courfeyrac Characters: Enjolras (Les Misérables), Enjolras' Father (Les Misérables), Grantaire (Les Misérables), Grantaire's Mother (Les Misérables), Grantaire's Sister (Les Misérables), Combeferre (Les Misérables), Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Marius Pontmercy, Cosette Fauchelevent, Les Amis de l'ABC, Musichetta (Les Misérables), Gavroche Thénardier, Claquesous (Les Misérables), Jean "Jehan" Prouvaire, Joly (Les Misérables), Jean Valjean, Brujon (Les Misérables), Éponine Thénardier, Bossuet Laigle, Azelma Thénardier, The Thénardiers (Les Misérables), Bahorel (Les Misérables), Feuilly (Les Misérables), Jean Maximilien Lamarque Additional Tags: Mutual Pining, Eventual Romance

Chapter One: Cosette and Enjolras

Enjolras woke up with a pillow being thrown at his face. He groaned and sat up looking for the person who threw it. Cosette grinned cheekily from the other side of the room.

“Come on sleeping beauty! Time to get up!” She called over to him. He took the same pillow that woke him up and launched it back at his sister. She easily dodged and left the room laughing. Enjolras dragged himself out of bed. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and gave up trying to tame his mane of hair and just tied it back. He shuffled out of his and Cosette’s room and downstairs to where Jean Valjean and Cosette were eating breakfast.

“Morning,” he greeted as he walked into the kitchen. Valjean smiled at him

“Morning Enjolras. Are you going with us back to school today? Cosette said that she was going up early.”

“Yeah, both of us are going up. We’re planning to hold a rally when everyone comes back so we’ll have to go up early.”

“Well, I hope you both come back for the holidays or spring break.” Cosette stood and kissed Valjean on the cheek.

“Of course, Papa. I’m going to pack.” After she left the room, Valjean’s smile disappeared and he pulled out an official looking letter.

“Enjolras,” he started cautiously. “I have some… bad news. Your father’s lawyer sent a letter. He wants to officially,... Disown you.” Enjolras’ head shot up.

“He wants to ‘officially disown me’? That’s low, even for him. When does he want to do that?” he said emotionlessly. Valjean gave him a look of sympathy.

“Next friday.”

“What? He can’t do that! That’s the first day of classes and the day we plan to hold the rally!” Enjolras exploded. He cursed under his breath. “He must’ve planned that. We tried to spread the word as much as possible. I can’t believe him!”

Valjean sighed. “I’m sorry, Enj. You should just focus on getting back to school and setting up the rally. You always trusted Combeferre and Courfeyrac, they will be able to help you. You should go pack. I’ll drive the two of you up in a half hour.” Enjolras nodded and went up to his and Cosette’s room to pack. Cosette met him in the hallway.

“I heard everything,” she confessed. “I’m so sorry Enjy. If it helps, ‘Zel said she got the Musian to let the Courfeyrac back.” She offered a small smile before pulling Enjolras in a quick hug. Then, they went upstairs to pack their stuff for the new school year.

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wilwywaylan · 6 years ago

Text

Bloody Mary

Fandom : Les Misérables

Modern AU, 1300 words, Bahorel / Feuilly (and Bahorel being a dork) (gods, what do I write)

Also on AO3 !

With a sigh, Feuilly looked at his face in the mirror. Then winced because sighing hurt. As did wincing. In fact, everything hurt like Hell, with major hurting points around his ribs and the whole of his face. His leg felt like it'd been dipped in gasoline and set on fire. Large, black bruises were blossoming on his collarbone and his stomach, proof of all the hits he got. Smaller marks were spread around his throat, where a very disgruntled opponent of gay rights decided to try and strangle him. At least, he sighed, looking at the blue-black tint of the skin surrounding his right eye, he had given as good as he got.

Slowly, he started dabbing at the numerous scratches on his shoulders and wrists. What a stupid idea he had had to wear a sleeveless denim jacket on a t-shirt. But the day had been so nice that he didn't want to wear a sweater and... well, sweat too much. They had all been surprised, honestly. Their last four protests had been spent under a pouring rain, seriously damping their clothes and dampening their spirits. So it had been a change to march under the sun for once. They had all taken this as a good sign.

Yeah... it hadn't taken long for some counterprotestors to show up. They had started by sitting on the edges, snickering among themselves, ponctuating each of Enjolras' sentences with their laughs. Then they added crude gestures. And then, when that wasn't enough, they had started hurling slurs. Of course, people answered. Things got heated very quickly. Feuilly didn't know who threw the first punch, but soon, their protest turned into a big brawl. Les Amis tried to stick together, but they were quickly separated, and had to make their way through the crowd without being too badly beaten.

Feuilly was trying not to lose Jehan's fiery hair through the crowd, when one of the counterprotestors decided to use him as a punching ball. Feuilly did his best to defend himself, but the other was two heads taller and twice as large as him, and was having a field day with it. He had grabbed Feuilly by the throat and was ready to squeeze, when police sirens rang through the place. Immediatly, everyone scattered like scared mice. The man dropped his victim to the ground and left. Feuilly really wanted to do the same, but he suddenly felt very hard to get some air in his throat. Luckily for him, Bahorel had turned back and had spotted him lying in a heap. Without too much subtlety, he had thrown him on his shoulder and ran like hell.

By an incredible feat of luck, none of them had been caught by the police, and they all gathered at the Triumvirate's flat as planned. Joly had insisted on assessing each and every of their wounds before letting them go. Enjolras had a nasty gash on his forehead, Combeferre's glasses were broken and had cut him across one eyebrow, Bossuet had twisted his ankle, and Marius' knuckles were scrapped raw. But those were the only wounds that required Joly's attention, and he fussed over them as he wanted as the others left.

Maybe he should have left Joly take care of his bruises too. Not that his friend would be able to make them magically disappear, but at least, he would have been gentler on them that him, who just wanted to get done with it. And to think he would have to explain them at work tomorrow. Because there's no way he would dodge the nosy questions when he looked like he had been pushed down a hill in a barrel. Oh well, that's what he got for taking a stance, after all.

Someone chuckled behind him. He looked up, to see Bahorel's reflection, leaning against the doorframe. He didn't look too worse to wear, if one could ignore the deep scratch on his cheek, almost hidden by his beard, and the bruises on his hands. They looked at each other for a moment, before Bahorel stepped forwards.

- You know, he said with a grin, I recall some kind of old story, about a mirror, and a bloody person appearing.

Feuilly's only answer was a raised eyebrow. He didn't really feel like laughing, and that wasn't only because of the marks around his throat. Bahorel didn't take offense. He just nudged him on the side, set himself in front of the mirror, hands on the console, and said slowly :

- Bloody Feuilly, Bloody Feuilly, Bloody Feuilly.

He turned to face his boyfriend, and gave an exagerated surprised face.

- Woah ! he exclaimed. Look at that ! You just appeared in my bathroom ! Now I can do as I please with you !

Feuilly didn't laugh, but he gave him a small smile. Satisfied with his effect, Bahorel ruffled the copper hair, then kissed him on the forehead gently.

- Let's go, you creature of the night. Warriors like us, we need food.

Feuilly let himself be led out of the bathroom, onto the couch, and drapped in a plaid. There was the noise of something being thrown in the oven, then Bahorel dropped on the couch beside him, and dragged the package of plaid and boyfriend in his lap. He turned the TV on, changing channels until he found some mindless drivel that would act as a background noise. Feuilly leaned against him, and closed his eyes. Bahorel played with his hair a bit, and asked :

- Do you think if I try to say "Bloody Feuilly" three times again, I'll get another Feuilly ?

- What, I'm not enough for you ?

- Oh yes, you're a handful, Bahorel answered in the lewdest tone he could.

This time, Feuilly laughed, and caught him under the plaid. Pizza, bruises and failed protest were soon very much forgotten.

#les miserables #feuilly #bahorel #feuilly/bahorel #the bromos #bahorel loves annoying feuilly #but they are so cute #fictober

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verllaine-blog · 7 years ago

Text

A guide to the fandom of French politics/lolitics

I found something similar going around in the Spanish lolitics fandom (I think?) and thought it was kind of funny, and what with French politics going world-wide since the elections in May and Macron making himself heard around the globe (and before you come at me, he’s also got his flaws too, I’ll fully agree with you there), I thought it would be cool to open up the wonderful fandom of French politics (and our ships!) to our international friends. So sit tight, this is probably going to be long!

First off, who are the big names you’re likely to find the most often?

Emmanuel Macron

° Not surprising since he’s our new president.

° He’s actually pretty smol. Especially when standing next to other taller world leaders.

° He’s a lot younger than the other members of the French politics fandom. (He’s 39).

° Can’t take selfies.

° POUDRE DE PERLIMPIMPIN.

° (It’s even a song).

° He looks like a pretty cool guy but does have some shitty policies he wants to put into effect (*cough* doesn't necessarily plan to stop nuclear energy jobs even though they are polluting *cough*).

° Literally seems to think that he’s some kind of king/God.

° Loves Europe & the European Union (like, Emmanuel Macron x the EU is as canon as Emmanuel x Brigitte).

° Likes cordons bleus (and I get him, cordons bleus are amazing), chocolates and eating off the kid’s menu and is essentially a child in an adult’s body.

° Apparently even the official cook at the Elysée palace makes him little cordons bleus. (And he loves them).

° Is probably going to be annoying in the upcoming five years but we currently kind of like him. Or at the very least, he hasn’t fucked up too bad yet. (But please don’t cozy up to Trump too much).

° Is far better at speaking English than most French politicians (and possibly even the current US president) and uses expressions that are probably twice his age and that nobody uses anymore.

Manuel Valls

° He’s from Spain Catalonia but he’s French.

° Our former Prime Minister. Apparently he tried to join Macron’s party after the elections?

° The scapegoat who gets blamed for everything, even stuff he isn't fully responsible for.

° Had flour thrown on him that one time.

° Often angry, but he does smile sometimes. (They’re actually rays of sunshine)

° Really did try to save the Parti Socialiste but didn’t manage and ended up quitting it. Is more of a center-left candidate??

° Dealt with a wide variety of shit ranging from terrorist attacks to being slapped across the face.

° The VEINY HANDS ™.

° King of the style game and sometimes wears see-through shirts. (cf La Rochelle, 2015).

° Was kind of friends with Macron (he was the one who convinced Hollande to hire him before they started to work together).

° People are beginning to realize that their hatred towards him was misdirected, which is nice. Hell, some are even beginning to appreciate him, which is even better.

° Gave that one really amazing speech at the Assemblée Nationale on January 13 2015 and got a standing ovation for it.

° Probably chilling off somewhere now? Or is he still trying to join En Marche?

° Has a cute Cairn Terrier called Homère. He even used to bring him to his meetings at the Elysée palace.

Benoît Hamon

° Former member of the Socialist party. He tried hard to save it, he really did.

° Is basically a Hobbit.

° Has lots of cute pairs of glasses.

° Good with kids.

° REGION BRETAGNE EN FORCE!

° His real name is Baenoît Hamon.

° Even shared a picture of his kebab once and it was way more popular than President Macron’s official portrait.

° Deserved so much better.

° Is an actual cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure.

Arnaud Montebourg

° Toll ™.

° Often seen hanging out with Hamon.

° A rebel, he resigned from his post as economy minister from Hollande’s government.

° Is a drama queen.

° Loves everything with the label “Made in France”.

° Has fluffy looking hair.

Phillipe Poutou

° Far-left anticapitalist.

° He literally has no chill and will destroy you if you give him the opportunity.

° Popular among the young voters (I think???).

° Can also be really cute and adorable when he doesn’t vent about the evils of capitalism.

° Too cool to wear an actual suit.

Jean-François Copé

° Sometimes wonder whether he’s an actual politician or not.

° Is sometimes problematic ™

° Says chocolatine instead of pain au chocolat (which is downright wrong >:(( ) (Question à part: ça se dit où "chocolatine" exactement?? Ca va bientôt faire quinze ans que j'habite en France et je suis jamais tombée dessus?? Ca a toujours été "pain au chocolat" chez moi???)

° Never really scores any higher than 0.5%.

° Always enthusiastic and up for a good laugh.

° Memes.

° One of the rare right-wing politicians to actually be part of the fandom since everybody else ranges from the center (Macron & maybe even Valls) to the far-left (Poutou & Mélenchon).

Jean Lassalle

° He’s not really a big name, kind of a centrist?

° Has a heavy accent and loves his region very much.

° Lives a down-to-earth-appreciate-everything kind of life.

° Is probably one of the only politicians to actually be a really adorable person in real life.

° Appreciated by both his fellow politician colleagues and the general public. (Which is a real feat here).

Christiane Taubira

° The Queen ™

° She's from French Guyana.

° Everybody loves her.

° She’s amazing, that’s all you need to know.

° She won’t let you mess with her: she might be smoll but she’s always ready to brawl (and clash you in the Assemblée Nationale).

° Has the law legalizing gay marriage named after her, like how cool is that???

Jean-Luc Mélenchon

° He's on the far-left.

° He's the hologram guy, loves modern technology.

° Has developed a legit game called "Fiscal Kombat", where the Mélenchon character fights other French politicians to make them give back money, counter frauds and earn as much cash as possible to implement his program.

° He's actually from Morocco.

° Is either angry or will take a great satisfaction in publicly clashing you.

° He has no chill and will call you out to your face.

° Always up for a fight and lives off drama.

° Is a sore looser tho.

Our international players:

Justin Trudeau

° The French speaking cousin ™ (with a slight accent)

° He’s not French but he’s basically considered as part of the fandom.

° Like Macron would say, he’s “part of the club” (yes, he really did use that expression).

° He got on well enough with the previous government,and currently has a thriving bromance with Macron.

° They probably diss Trump together in French.

° We’re all looking forward to anything more they can give us.

° Can also be spotted on photos with François Hollande and Manuel Valls.

Theresa May

° The annoying friend from across the Channel.

° Brexit with Benefits ™

° Likes football.

° Speaks English only.

° Probably a source of conflict over Europe and the EU.

° Still the English member of our Franco-British (or soon to be English-only?) bromance.

° Hopefully introduced Manu to the wonders that are Fish & Chips.

Barack Obama

° He may no longer be president but we still love him.

° Had a soft spot for Hollande’s poor English.

Angela Merkel

° Proud member of the pro-EU squad.

° Holds the flag for the Franco-German bromance.

° Was bros with Sarkozy and seems to like Macron a lot.

° Also an avid football supporter.

As for our ships, well here’s what we’ve got to offer :))

The French only ships

Vallande: François Hollande and Manuel Valls

° I don’t know, it’s the first of the political ships I really heard of.

° Apparently it was a thing??

° Basically the president and his Prime Minister.

° There is legit real fanart out there if you look hard.

° They seemed to be happy when they were together sometimes, so I guess there’s that??

° Unfortunately they then broke up when Valls left Hollande’s government to run for the left wing primaries. I guess not every pairing can have a happy ending :(

° **Edit: I just happen to have found an entire blog dedicated to the ship (Vallande is real les amis), and it's the most unlikely thing ever but also fucking hilarious! (Je ne sais pas qui est derrière ce Tumblr, mais... Merci, pour le coup, ça m'a bien fait rire ^^).

° **Edit 2: Guys, just... Check the “Vallande“ tag, I promise it’s worth it. ^^

M&M’s/Vacron: Manuel Valls and Emmanuel Macron

° Probably the most popular/biggest ship in the fandom for now.

° They have a complicated ™ relationship.

° They used to be kind of friends??? But Macron essentially stabbed Valls in the back by using Valls’ declining popularity and problems to push himself forward. ° I’m not even sure where they stand at now. Probably former colleagues?

° Although Valls did immediately back Macron after losing the socialist primary final to Hamon (whether that is to be taken as a sense of affection/friendship/something else towards Macron, I’ll let you decide for yourself).

° We still ship them though.

° All the more so because there are lots of pics (and non-photoshopped ones I might add) that are out there.

° (Perhaps they even ship themselves, who knows?)

° Oh and Vall's official nickname for Macron when they were in the same government was "Microbe", which basically means germ (if you translate it literally) or squirt.

° We also have AO3 fics and fanart. (Seriously, the M&M's fandom is amazing :)).

(Add Myriam El Khomri and you get an OT3).

(But Valls and El Khomri look more like embarrassed parents and Macron their overly-enthusiastic five year-old).

(Or you can add Najat Vallaud-Bellkacem if you’d prefer).

Cinnhamonbourge: Benoît Hamon and Arnaud Montebourg

° The Cuties ™.

° Also quite popular in the fics and fanart territory.

° Fluff, fluff and more fluff. (And possibly the occasional angst, but it's mostly fluff).

° Team “Looks like a cinnamon roll and actually is a cinnamon roll”.

° Well Hamon is, Montebourg can get a little more angry at times.

° But they like each other, that’s the most important part.

° Both are now former members of the PS, Montebourg quit in 2014 and Hamon only a month ago.

° Used to hang out together a lot.

° Probably diss Hollande (and Macron’s) government together.

° Organize cool-looking parties.

° Like flowers.

° Probably drowning their sorrows and crying over the state of French politics together. (With a bottle of fine champagne).

(You can even add Valls if you want an OT3, not sure they’d get along tho).

(Is Macrontebourg also a thing? Just askin’) (Although we all know Arnaud and Benoît belong together).

Along with Montebourg, apparently Hamon and Taubira were also good friends :)

Marine Le Pen x Florian Philippot

° I think this is also a thing?

° They’re basically the Evil Power Couple of French politics.

° Probably want to dominate France and are secretly building a “Grand Villain Manifesto” for the 2022 elections.

° They can stay together as long as they don’t bother us.

° Apparently people also ship Le Pen and Mélenchon???

° Is it a hate-ship??

° (Je n'en sais rien vraiment, mais je suis tombée dessus une ou deux fois… Je ne sais toujours pas trop quoi en penser ^^).

Team Destroy Capitalism: Nathalie Arthaud and Philippe Poutou

° Like the ship name suggests, they hate capitalism.

° The far-left bros.

° They’re full of bitterness and full of salt.

° Arthaud is Angry ™, elle est là pour NIQUER SES MERES.

° Often angry. Just a reminder.

° Poutou has no chill and will fight you even though he’s only a factory worker for Ford, who works REALLY HARD.

° (But he’s cool). (He can also be really nice and really cute).

° Arthaud will also fight you, especially on capitalism. Arthaud x Capitalism is probably her biggest NOTP.

° Team Tiny Candidates.

The international ships

Merkozy: Angela Merkel and Nicolas Sarkozy (aka President Bling Bling ™).

° I wasn’t really following politics all that much back in 2007.

° Apparently they were like BFF’s, and are one of the early bro-ships in French politics??

° The Oldie but Goldie, I guess that’s what we could roll with?

° The Smol bros.

° I don’t know whether they are still in touch or not but let’s hope so, because Merkel’s huge smiles are literal rays of sunshine.

Don't ask me, but there was also something with Hollande.

And Valls.

And she seems to be climbing up the new BFF scale with Macron too.

Hobama: François Hollande and Barack Obama

° Obama seemed to get along well with Macron’s clumsy predecessor, maybe his poor English even grew on him after a while.

° “Ah na wol spriking in French because ay oblairge ay oblaïge to do that.”

° President Classy ™ and President Awkward ™.

° They both exited the world stage at the same time at the end of 2016, right before shit got real.

° Might be keeping in touch and maybe even mounting a scheme to take out the Crazy Orange Cheeto (okay probably not, but let’s just imagine for a second that they are really doing this?)

(Obama was also friends with Sarkozy, if you were wondering).

Macdeau: Justin Trudeau and Emmanuel Macron

(C'est bien Macdeau le "nom officiel"? Parce que j'ai vu des choses du style Macreau, Trudon et Trudō également)

° Highly anticipated bromance that came about shortly after Macron won the election.

° Basically became canon in Taormina when they met for the G7 Summit, and we got the pics of them strolling along in the flowery gardens. (Looking extremely similar to that one scene in Game of Thrones between Margaery and Sansa)

° Trudeau is Toll ™ and Macron is Smoll ™.

° Always smiling.

° New pics and Twitter posts are always welcomed and widely shared. ° They’re always happy together and as long as their bromance is thriving, so are we.

(( But if you’d rather ship him with Valls, then there’s also canon photos you can use too :) ))

Then we've also got this but:

Does it

Really warrant

An explanation?

(There aren't any pictures, but just in case you were wondering, our friend Mister Donald the Crazy Orange Cheeto also rooted for her during the elections).

Maycron: Theresa May and Emmanuel Macron

° Also a G7 baby.

° Speak English together.

° Trying to mend bridges between the UK and France. (Because from what I’ve gathered, neither Sarkozy or Hollande were apparently great friends with David Cameron).

° Give affectionate hugs.

° Probably butt heads over topics like Europe and Brexit since May wants out of the EU and Macron is arguably one of the EU leader who loves the EU the most (like I said, Macron x EU is as canon as Emmanuel x Brigitte).

° Share a passion and enthusiasm for football. May can even be a little bit too enthusiastic sometimes ;)

° Probably also vent about the Orange Cheeto to one another.

And as a Franco-Irish member of the French lolitics fandom, I'm also really happy to be able to say that

French politicians

Seem to have an ongoing bromance

With their Irish counterparts

That doesn't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon :)

And if you really want to go deep down, here are the over-the-top-not-really-serious-recurring-pairings you can also find:

Benoît Hamon x Kebabs (It’s pure, it’s lovely, and believe it or not, it’s way more popular than you’d think more popular than Macron at any rate).

François Fillon & "Rends l'argent" (we basically want him to give back the public money he stole).

Eva Joly x The Green Glasses

° Kind of an older pairing, since it goes back to the 2012 elections (she didn't run this year).

° Joly usually wore red glasses, but to represent her Green Party (EELV), she campaigned with a pair of green ones.

° Basically what she was remembered for.

° Maybe she still wears them?

Emmanuel Macron x Cordons bleus (the truest OTP of this 2017 presidential campaign and we understand him, those things taste like heaven).

François Hollande x Being Akward (pretty much what you can resume his five-year presidency as).

Benoît Hamon x His glasses (they even have their own Twitter account apparently at LunettesBenoit).

Apparently he loves them so much he went and bought a bunch of them right before the presidential race began.

Marine Le Pen & Being a scary arsehole (basically she hates anything non 100% French, was high on drugs or something during her debate with Macron and couldn’t make coherent arguments. Blames immigrants, non French citizens and Muslims for everything wrong in the country).

She’s basically our equivalent of the horrors known as Donald Trump, Geert Wilders, Frauke Petry and Nigel Farage.

(Unsurprisingly, she's also friends with all of them).

French politicians in general x Being assaulted with food ingredients: whether it’s flour, eggs or the hand that whisks them up in the form of a slap, Valls, Macron, Le Pen, Sarkozy, Fillon and Hollande have all had it thrown at them. ^^

Après, si j'en ai oublié d'autres, n'hésitez pas à les rajouter, histoire de faire répandre nos ships et la fandom politique française à l'international! C'est ma toute première contribution, donc je n'ai probablement pas donné une liste exhaustive :))

#Hello je suis un peu nouvelle dans la fandom #et je découvre encore tous les blogs de lolitique super sympa :)#shipping politicians is also a *thing* over here #and you're all welcome to join us #French lolitics #upthebaguette #(c'est bien ça le tag pour tout ce qui est politique française?)#(j'aime trop le M&M's d'ailleurs :))#('faut vraiment que je tente la fic aussi)#lolitics

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ao3feed-lesmiserables · 4 years ago

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Sun Cream

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3j4TzcM

by iwishiwaschaotic

Logically, this was Grantaire’s fault.

Anyone with even a shred of common sense would have known to be suspicious when they got a leopard print speedo on their birthday--even if it was gifted by Jehan, whose fashion taste was, on a good day, questionable.

They live 500 miles from the nearest body of water, for cripes sake.

And if that wasn’t fishy enough, a week later Cooufeyrac had called him--just to ask what he was doing the second week of summer break. Had it seemed inconspicuous enough? Sure. And Grantaire trusted his friends--more than he trusted himself--so, rather than ask questions, he had answered “You bet!” like the stupid idiot he was.

And when Bahorel had asked to crash at his place for a night, Grantaire had let him. Again, no questions asked--because he was a good friend, dammit. He should have known that being nice would come back to bite him in the ass.

He should have known that the next morning, when Bahorel had cheerfully crowed “Heya, you ready, R?” that Bahorel was not referring to life in general. --- In which Les Amis go on a vacation and Grantaire refuses to let himself enjoy it.

Words: 5852, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Les Misérables - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Grantaire (Les Misérables), Enjolras (Les Misérables), Minor Characters, Combeferre (Les Misérables), Jean "Jehan" Prouvaire, Joly (Les Misérables), Bossuet Laigle, Feuilly (Les Misérables), Bahorel (Les Misérables), Courfeyrac (Les Misérables)

Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)

Additional Tags: Modern AU, Pining but not more than you'd expect I guess, Blowjobs, Leopard Print Speedos, and there was only one bed, Smut

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3j4TzcM

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #les miserables #les mis

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kjack89 · 4 years ago

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Personal Gain (Chapter 6/6)

Sorry this is so late! Life got crazy. But hey, better late than never.

Modern magic AU, developing E/R and Courferre. Read Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here, Chapter 3 here, Chapter 4 here and Chapter 5 here (or catch up on AO3).

The knock on the door was quiet, almost cautious, and Courfeyrac called out, “Come in!”

The door creaked open and Combeferre poked his head in. “Dare I ask what’s going on?” he asked mildly, stepping inside after he saw that Courfeyrac was alone.

“Well, for starters, it turns out that Enjolras and Grantaire didn’t need any magical help getting together, seeing as how they’ve been dating for six months.”

Combeferre blinked. “Well,” he said, taking a few steps towards Courfeyrac. “That certainly explains a lot.”

“You think?” Courfeyrac asked dryly.

“So you came here to disable the spells?”

Courfeyrac shrugged. “Well, seeing as how the binding spell had the unfortunate side of effect of making Enjolras want to stay here instead of the apartment he and Grantaire got together…” He trailed off, smiling slightly at the look of surprise on Combeferre’s face. “Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction, too.”

Combeferre shook his head slowly. “Wow,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and shaking his head slightly. “I...did not see that coming.”

Courfeyrac snorted. “Me neither,” he muttered. “Then again, seems there’s a lot that I haven’t seen coming these days.”

Combeferre eyed him warily. “That sounds ominous,” he said mildly. “Something on your mind?”

“You tell me,” Courfeyrac said, matching his tone and meeting his gaze evenly. “You’re the one who put a love potion in the Jäger.”

More emotions than Courfeyrac could possibly track flashed in rapid succession across Combeferre’s face, and Courfeyrac couldn’t quite stop his slightly smug smile as Combeferre opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to speak the denial he clearly wanted to. After a long moment of struggling, Combeferre swallowed, his expression neutral. “You didn’t get rid of the honesty spell,” he said finally.

Courfeyrac shrugged again. “I thought it might do us both some good to finally have to say it like it is,” he said. “And before you even start, you were the one preaching about consent before slipping me a love potion. What did you do, skim a little from the cauldron when I wasn’t looking?”

“Yes,” Combeferre said, not bothering to try to deny it this time.

Courfeyrac blinked, a little taken aback by how willingly he admitted it, even with the honesty spell. “And you put it in the Jäger.”

Again, Combeferre didn’t try to fight the lingering honesty spell. “Yes,” he said. “I put it in the Jäger.”

Courfeyrac bit back his immediate question, the why he had been holding back this entire time, because looking at Combeferre, standing not even two feet away from him, he knew why.

They both knew why.

Courfeyrac had been the one to say it, when he was explaining why he was doing this for Enjolras and Grantaire – because they would both be so happy with each other if they would just admit how they feel – but Combeferre had been the one to act on it.

And took a leaf out of Courfeyrac’s book to do so – rather literally.

So he managed to contain the grin he felt twitching at the corners of his mouth, glancing down at the floor for a moment before looking back at Combeferre. “And?”

“And what?” Combeferre asked, his brow furrowed. “And it didn’t work.”

Courfeyrac cocked his head slightly. “Who said that?”

Combeferre’s brow furrowed even further. “No one,” he said, “I just— You didn’t—”

He broke off, flushing slightly, and now Courfeyrac did grin. “What, didn’t jump you?” he asked cheerfully.

“Sure, if that’s how you want to word it,” Combeferre said sourly, something tightening in his expression before he looked pointedly away, and Courfeyrac’s stomach dropped as he realized Combeferre thought they were having a very different conversation than they were.

“No, I didn’t jump you,” he said quickly, “but—”

“Which means there weren’t feelings there,” Combeferre said flatly, still not meeting Courfeyrac’s eyes. “You said it yourself, a love potion doesn’t make someone feel a certain way, it just...amplifies feelings that are already there.”

“And you think that because I didn’t jump you, that there are no feelings there.”

Courfeyrac’s voice was incredulous, and Combeferre’s flush deepened. “Well, logically speaking—” he muttered, but Courfeyrac interrupted him.

“What part of my magic, of magic at all, has ever seemed logical to you?” he demanded.

Combeferre shook his head slowly but didn’t try to answer the question, instead looking at Courfeyrac, his expression unreadable. “So what are you saying?”

Courfeyrac arched an eyebrow. “I’m saying you miscalculated.”

Combeferre frowned. “I followed the instructions in the grimoire to the word—”

“There’s more to magic than just following instructions,” Courfeyrac said, exasperated. “It’s not a science experiment that you replicate with identical results every time!”

Combeferre’s scowl was firmly back in place. “Well then why don’t you tell me what I did wrong instead of lecturing me about it?” he snapped.

Courfeyrac couldn’t help himself – he barked a laugh, scrubbing a hand across his face before grinning at Combeferre. “You really are an idiot, you know that, right?”

“You said—”

“I know what I said,” Courfeyrac said.

Combeferre shook his head. “No, you said that the potion would fill the drinker with feelings of desire and possession, and—”

“Yeah, I know.”

Combeferre threw his hands up in frustration. “Ok, so then what did I miss?”

“You missed that I have spent every single day of the past few years pretending that I didn’t have feelings of desire and possession,” Courfeyrac said honest for the first time, and the spell had nothing to with it. Combeferre froze, staring at him. “You missed that I never needed a love potion for that. You think that I didn’t want to jump you after drinking that? Of course I did. But I’ve gotten really, really good at pretending that I don’t.”

Combeferre’s mouth opened and closed again as he gaped at Courfeyrac. After a long moment, he managed to pull himself together enough to croak, “Then why—”

“Because…” It was Courfeyrac’s turn to blush, just a little. “Because I didn’t think you felt the same.”

Combeferre stared at him, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Well now who’s the idiot?” he asked.

In lieu of answering, Courfeyrac closed the space between them and kissed him.

For just a moment, Combeferre froze, but then he melted against him, kissing Courfeyrac back almost fiercely, his hand fisting in Courfeyrac’s shirt as if he could pull him closer.

When they broke apart, neither man moved far, and Courfeyrac reached out to cup Combeferre’s cheek, tracing his thumb across the spray of barely visible freckles across his cheek. “I think we can probably agree we’re both idiots,” he said quietly.

Combeferre laughed before kissing Courfeyrac again. “Maybe,” he allowed. “But at least we figured it out eventually.”

“Yeah, and it only took three spells and two potions for us to figure it out.” He kissed Combeferre once more before taking a step back. “Speaking of, there’s one more thing I need to do.”

“Get rid of the honesty spell?” Combeferre asked.

Courfeyrac. “Ok, two things,” he said, bending down to pick the crystal up from where he had hidden it on the coffee table, blowing on it gently to neutralize the spell within. “And now just one thing.”

“And what can you possibly have to do that’s more important than, well, me?” Combeferre asked, but Courfeyrac wasn’t deterred by the innuendo.

“I owe someone an apology.”

----------

Courfeyrac waited a few days before he made his way to Enjolras and Grantaire’s new apartment, figuring both men could probably use a little time back together now that Courfeyrac had gotten rid of the spell that had driven them apart.

Judging by the satisfied smile Grantaire wore when he answered the door, he had figured right.

“For you,” he said, using just a little magic to make a bouquet of flowers appear, and he presented them to Grantaire with a flourish.

“Flowers?” Grantaire asked mildly, taking the bouquet from Courfeyrac. “Have you been taking advice from Jehan?”

“Something like that,” Courfeyrac said. “Consider them an apology of sorts.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Grantaire asked, gesturing for Courfeyrac to come inside.

Courfeyrac shrugged, glancing around the apartment. He was completely unsurprised to see the cat that used to live behind the Musain curled up on the couch, along with a perfect mismatch of items from Enjolras and Grantaire’s former apartments. “Well, you know,” he said, glancing back at Grantaire. “I probably should’ve figured it out sooner.”

Grantaire laughed lightly, taking the flowers into the kitchen. “Or maybe you don’t give Enjolras and I enough credit for keeping it a secret.”

Courfeyrac laughed as well, meandering over to the bookshelf, gratified to see pictures of Les Amis dotting the shelves, along with one selfie of Enjolras and Grantaire that he had never seen, Grantaire kissing Enjolras’s cheek as Enjolras grinned at the camera. He picked the frame off the shelf, smiling down at it. “I definitely didn’t give you two enough credit,” he said as Grantaire rooted around for something to put the flowers in.

Before he could say anything else, the front door banged open and Enjolras came inside, typing furiously on his phone. “They can’t rescind an election certification,” he muttered to himself, toeing his shoes off at the door without looking up. “Hey R, what do you—”

Courfeyrac cleared his throat and Enjolras looked up at him. “Oh, hey, Courf,” he said vaguely, looking back down at his phone before his head snapped up again, the blood draining from his face. “I mean, uh…”

Courfeyrac smirked. “Good to see you, too.”

Enjolras looked frantically around, clearly looking for Grantaire. “I, uh, I can explain.”

“No need,” Grantaire said, coming out of the kitchen with the flowers sticking out of what Courfeyrac was fairly certain was a hurricane glass. “Courfeyrac knows.”

“I was planning on telling you,” Enjolras said, a little desperately, and Courfeyrac grinned, setting the picture frame back on the shelf.

“Are you telling that to me or to Grantaire?”

“Both,” Enjolras muttered, and Grantaire laughed, setting the makeshift vase on the coffee table before crossing over to Enjolras and kissing him lightly.

“Don’t worry, you’re forgiven,” he said, and Enjolras sighed in relief before immediately bristling.

“Hang on, what in hell do I need forgiving for?”

Courfeyrac coughed lightly. “Well, I just wanted to bring you the flowers,” he told Grantaire, “and now I’ll leave you both to it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Enjolras muttered grumpily, though he was fighting back a smile as Grantaire kissed him again. “Are you and Combeferre still on for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Courfeyrac said, inching toward the door as Grantaire pulled Enjolras toward the couch. “And, uh, we have something to tell you tomorrow, too.”

Grantaire sat down on the couch and pulled Enjolras down with him. “Sure, sounds good,” Enjolras said distractedly, and Courfeyrac laughed before letting himself out, closing the door after him.

He made his way to the street and Combeferre straightened from where he had been leaning casually against the building, waiting for him. “Did they like the flowers?” he asked, leaning in to kiss Courfeyrac cheek in greeting.

Courfeyrac nodded. “I think so.”

They walked together for a moment before Combeferre glanced at him. “Did you put a spell on the flowers?”

“I am aghast that you think so poorly of me.” Combeferre just arched an eyebrow and Courfeyrac laughed. “Flowers don’t last forever,” he said. “Not worth wasting a spell on, though I did wind some ivy and yarrow in there, for love and healing – my version of an apology.”

“Ok, so you didn’t spell the flowers,” Combeferre said, undeterred. “But you did cast a spell.”

“Maybe,” Courfeyrac said with a grin, thinking of the small, nondescript stone he had slipped behind the picture frame on the bookshelf. “Just a little something.”

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” Combeferre asked, mock-sternly, though he also couldn’t seem to stop himself from asking, “And what was this spell for?”

Courfeyrac took Combeferre’s hand, lacing their fingers together and lifting them to his mouth to press a kiss to Combeferre’s knuckles. “Happiness,” he said simply.

Combeferre’s smile softened. “Well, I can’t fault you for that. Just as long as you don’t try the same thing for us.”

“I think you and I have had more than enough magical interference for a lifetime,” Courfeyrac said. “Besides, we don’t need a spell to be happy.” He leaned in and kissed the corner of Combeferre’s mouth. “Now c’mon. Let’s go home.”

Together, they walked down the street, still hand in hand when, abruptly, Combeferre said, “You know, I don’t want to jinx it, but I do have to say it.”

“Say what?” Courfeyrac asked warily.

“I told you so.”

Courfeyrac glanced over at him, trying to place what, exactly, Combeferre was gloating about this time. Then it hit him. “Oh my God, are you serious?”

“You can’t use your magic for personal gain,” Combeferre said, a little smugly. “It never turns out the way you want it to.”

Courfeyrac nudged him in the ribs with his elbow. “Technically speaking, you used my magic for personal gain.”

Combeferre considered it and shrugged. “And it didn’t exactly work out the way I planned either, now did it?”

“No,” Courfeyrac agreed. “And I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #courferre #courfeyrac #combeferre #enjolras #grantaire #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #magic au #developing relationship #chaptered #part 6 of 6

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eglantinian · 7 years ago

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insanity laughs under pressure (e/e modern AU protest fic)

@thedangerinlove, you asked for a fanfic of this pic. so i made it happen for enjonine in Les Misérables. TW: deaths, lots of it, as hugo did. This is the sad prelude to if a glance is dawn breaking, then twilight is a whisper of your name, so if you want a happy fic (ok well it is angsty still, but at least they are finally happy), go there after this one.

Readable as well in AO3 | FFNET

insanity laughs under pressure

Theirs is the chorus of a thousand raging daylights.

“To move past the throes of the 21st century,” Enjolras exclaimed, rippled waves of gold dancing in the wind as he raised a crimson-marred flag above him, “We must once again shake the stars into birth!”

Footsteps guided by lightning, their souls exalted, “Libérte! Égalité! Fraténité!”

The fair-haired student felt his heart take flight, and there were falls prickling the universe in his otherwise calm, but tenacious mien. “We are but whirlwinds of dust in this world, and yet — let the stars not contain you!”

A hand gently placed itself atop his shoulder, which was covered in a pitch-black coat, and a fond curl formed on his lips before he curled his fingers with her sun-graced ones. Éponine, though trembling, gripped him tightly, and lightly whisked her viridescent scarf behind her shoulder.

Imperfect histories enrich her voice as she began the song of the people.

“A la volonté du peuple

Et à la santé du progrès,

Remplis ton cœur d'un vin rebelle

Et à demain, ami fidèle.

Nous voulons faire la lumière

Malgré le masque de la nuit

Pour illuminer notre terre

Et changer la vie.”

The forlorn city looks upon them with pity, yet the group carries on, dusk rising doing nothing to convince them to dampen the lilt in their mighty prayer.

Thebes, apparently, is bent on returning the lovelorn tale of Antigone and her faithful lover Haemon to live in a different realm.

And so it commences — the disparate, woeful string quartet in the interlude of their concluding rally.

It is as they are ready to depart the Arc de Triomphe that a certain change in the air makes the people droop like daisies on the harsh asphalt.

The wind caressed their lungs ruthlessly, and Éponine tugged his hand, the doleful narrative touched by Melpomene threatening her heart — and it makes her breath catch, even as she lifted her scarf upwards to the half of her face for protection.

Enjolras eyed her, grey hood covering his hair, and he felt it too — the lightning coming too early in their somber skies. She meets him in that ephemera, when people rise to the tide of the blearing alarms, and they understand.

That freedom wakes in the death of revolution, and the residue of their soul… with it.

It shouldn’t have to be that way, then, we suppose? Perhaps, Thalia can persuade her sister Melpomene to have Orpheus scribe this story, then, driven by crimson as it is?

Victor Hugo scoffs, and in his tobacco-laced breath, he argues, “Glory follows reason and passion.”

The tragedian triumvirate — Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides — nod to this hommage of their Unwritten laws.

And the palatial narrative falls, and the discourse of the republic begins.

But the radiant mystery would have to wait.

Bullets trailed after them, and one by one, Enjolras and Éponine saw the horizon narrow — Combeferre, in saving Courfeyrac, falls. Fire in his eyes, Jehan, sweet Jehan whose light steps and gentle hands never made harm, chose this moment as an exception, and struck the gendarme with his fists. Too soon was this triumph, however, as a blow to his head coming from Claquesous took his life.

Bahorel was locked in combat with Montparnasse when he witnessed this, and too soon, the Sirens called him to death in his distraction. Feuilly followed as another bullet flittered about to graze his neck, heart breaking as the voices of Joly and Bossuet grew faint in their attempts to protect Musichetta from the harsh smoke and stampede of harried people.

Grantaire weaved himself next through this throng, taking Courfeyrac, and using his brittle Bordeaux to scare the scattered police trying to arrest them both. But this too, is a swift tale, as Babet, with his sharp eyes, trifle with their breaths in two shots.

The universe does not exempt Éponine, even when her feet rarely touches the soft earth, and she trembled in this wretched air — once, only as a Wolf does — and Enjolras felt it, the shiver of winter taking his heart.

Cradling her frail body to himself, he touched her otherwise intrepid countenance, as her lids lowed — even as the moonlight drifted in her irises.

“Yours,” he whispered the radiant mystery that will follow them, “is the future.”

And he hears the ray of immortality — its shrieking crescendo — before it reached him.

His last word: Love.

#enjonine #enjolras #eponine #enjolras x eponine #eponine x enjolras #ok #i am not over this ship ok #this was quite vexing to write #but i managed #my heart hurts #apparently even if i'm so used to them dying it doesn't take away the pain

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just-french-me-up · 8 years ago

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Triptych

Enjoltaire Week | Day 1 | Painting

Summary: Three portraits are discovered in a hidden cellar in Paris, all three dating back from the nineteenth century. What's weird is that the man in the portraits looks an awful lot like Enjolras. What's weirder is that the paintings are all signed "R."

Tags: Modern AU; Reincarnation AU; Rated G

Word count: 3.5k

READ ON AO3

"Remind me why anyone would choose to watch what is considered to be the worst movie in history?"

Enjolras sat on the couch and balanced a huge bowl of popcorn on his lap. Courfeyrac's picks for movie night were usually more mainstream and understandable. Well. As understandable as romantic comedies could be, but at least they didn't require much brain activity. At least it allowed Enjolras to switch off his brain and shove handfuls of popcorn into his mouth while wondering how heteronormativity and dumb misunderstandings had become such crowd-pullers.

"That's because it's an experience!" Courfeyrac argued, slumping on the couch next to Enjolras and seriously compromising the balance of the popcorn bowl. "As your best friend, I just can't let you die a Room virgin!"

"What's so great about it, anyway?"

"Everything! The acting is so bad! It's like... You know how people say that if you let monkeys in a room full of typewriters the monkey would eventually end up rewriting Shakespeare? Well switch the monkeys with aliens who only have a vague idea of how human interactions work and you've got The Room! It's flipping fantastic!"

Enjolras shrugged. The enjoyment of intrinsically bad media was beyond him.

"There are some really interesting studies about trash movies and their ironical audience, actually," Combeferre chimed in as he joined them in the living room. He brought heavy-looking pizza plates that he settled on the coffee table before settling next to Courfeyrac. "Something about collectively liking something so bad that it gets good."

"Exactly!" Courfeyrac exclaimed, triumphant. "So sit back and brace yourself for this absolute masterpiece."

He switched on the TV and started rummaging through the pile of DVDs to find the right one. Automatically, the first channel popped up on screen. The news were still on and a generic news anchor looked at the three of them in the eyes.

"Wait," Enjolras said before Courfeyrac could switch on the DVD player.

"And tonight we come back on an incredible discovering in Paris earlier today," the news anchor announced, "when three paintings were discovered in a cellar in the Latin Quarter. The three works of art allegedly date back from the nineteenth century and predate the Haussmanian renovations of the capital. For more on this story, we go to Olivier Barron in the Latin Quarter, Olivier?"

The three paintings appeared on screen. Silence fell on the living room, leaving nothing but the artificial chatter of the television. In his seat, Enjolras turned to stone.

"-Twitter already rushed to title the works names such as 'Apollo in Red'-"

"Enjolras..."

That jaw line. That nose. The same eye colour. Enjolras' throat tightened. A cold shiver ran down his spine.

"Holy shit," Courfeyrac whispered. "Enj, it's you!"

Enjolras shuffled some papers around, trying to get his hands on notes he had written down the night before, somewhere around his third cup of coffee o'clock. There were some points about the upcoming the labour reform he really wanted to discuss during the meeting, if only he could find the damn thing. A pat on his shoulder took him by surprise.

"I think you're looking for this," Combeferre said, handing him the very notes he was looking for. "I forgot to tell you I took it. I just added a few remarks."

'A few remarks' in Combeferre's vocabulary entailed enthusiastic and colourful highlighting and additional notes scribbled in the margins that were illegible, including to Combeferre himself. Still, two minds were better than one, and Combeferre's mind was an undeniable asset. Enjolras took the revised notes with a smile.

"Thanks, I'll read though them."

Combeferre nodded and took his seat between Courfeyrac and Feuilly. Enjolras was the only one standing at this point, towering over his notes and the various things he had brought with him. The chatter began to fade. They all turned their attention towards him. The meeting officially begun.

"Okay, guys, so I thought we could start things off with some details about the labour reform and how―"

"Er-Sorry," Courfeyrac cut off, "but aren't we going to talk about the fact that they found paintings that look exactly like Enjolras?"

His remark was met with a few raised eyebrows and confused looks. Enjolras nervously raked a hand through his hair. Courfeyrac had not let this go since the night before.

"Oh come on! It was all over the news! Didn't you see it?"

"Courf, I don't think it's―"

It was already too late. All the others had already taken their phones out. Enjolras stood there awkwardly while they checked the news, and even more awkwardly when their eyes went from the screens to him in shock. Joly's jaw dropped.

"Oh my god, Enjolras, it is you!" he exclaimed.

"There's even the mole on your shoulder!" Bahorel added.

"See? It's him, I'm telling you!"

Emboldened by the number of allies on his side, Courfeyrac started listing the similarities between the painting and Enjolras, much to the latter's dismay. Why did it matter? Maybe he had a nineteenth-century look alike who had the same mole at the same place. So what? Enjolras let out a long sigh that was immediately drowned in the voices rising from the table. He shared a look with Combeferre, who picked up on his mood.

"Okay, but can we try to focus on the meeting?" Combeferre tried, rushing to Enjolras' rescue.

Almost like reprimanded students, the rest of les Amis sat back properly on their chairs and quietened down. Enjolras nodded in Combeferre's direction as a 'thank you'.

"So, as I was saying―"

"It's signed R," Feuilly said, deadpan.

"What?"

"It's signed 'R.'," he repeated. "It written right here, 'all three works are signed by the same hand, an unknown painter only identified by the letter R.' R. Like Grantaire."

There was electricity in the air. All eyes turned towards Grantaire, who looked as stunned as the rest of them. The room grew suddenly silent.

"What?" Grantaire asked, shuffling uncomfortably on his chair.

"I mean, you have to admit it's weird," Bossuet said.

Grantaire pointedly avoided looking at Enjolras in the eyes, running his hand through his curls. That was a lot of coincidences, even for Enjolras. For a second, his mind when for outlandish scenarios about how Grantaire could have planted those paintings there for whatever reason, before his logic took over. No. That cellar had been buried underground for more than a century. There was no way for Grantaire to know it was there! And experts had already dated the paintings!

Enjolras cleared his voice.

"Grantaire, did you somehow go back in time to paint me before abandoning those paintings in a random cellar?"

Grantaire snorted.

"No."

"That's what I thought," Enjolras said, giving Courfeyrac a meaningful look. "Now, if that's settled, can we go back to the labour reform and how it's going to affect us all?"

The rest of the meeting went without a hitch, with the usual amount of wits, snark, and dedication Enjolras cherished in his friends. Joly had been in charge of writing down all the ideas and suggestions for them to use as a starting point the following week. All in all, an evening well spent.

They all lingered in the backroom of the Musain for a while, talking about more casual topics while they stacked the chairs against the wall. The room emptied slowly. Enjolras was putting his things away in his satchel when Jehan came up to him.

"Hey. Can we talk?"

They looked a little hesitant. Enjolras smiled at them in an attempt to put them at ease.

"Sure. What's up?"

"It's about that thing with the paintings."

Oh. Clearly something in his expression had changed, because Jehan rushed to add:

"Just hear me out. It's just―Listen, okay? Is it okay if we sit?"

Enjolras nodded and sat on one of the few remaining chair. Jehan took another and sat across from him. They looked very serious, all of a sudden.

"Okay, so when I was in highschool, I participated in that poetry contest my school organised every year. So I wrote my poem and submitted it, but it was denied. Plagiarism. Even though I'd written it all myself. I didn't get it, so I asked what the original poem was from, just to see it for myself. It was from an old poetry collection from the nineteenth century, a book that had been sleeping in the Parisian archives for decades. And my poem was in there. Word for word. And the rest of the book was just... me. My style. It was like an out of body experience."

Enjolras listened intentely. He didn't know what to think about it. It was too weird. Stuff like that... It was only weird coincidences, right? What was it that Courfeyrac said about monkeys and typewriters? Still, he could not deny the sick feeling weighing on his stomach.

"Do you know who wrote the poetry collection?"

Jehan shook their head.

"I asked, but the people at the archives just told me it was seized propriety from someone who had committed treason. Then maybe someone deemed the poetry good enough to archive it. There was no name on it. The last poem was written in 1832, and the pages are all blank, so I guess the poet was arrested around that time."

"Sounds like a free thinker," Enjolras smiled. "Maybe you have more in common than poetry. So you think it's a similar thing? That it's a coincidence?"

"I don't know," Jehan sighed. "But it's weird, right? I mean surely it means something. Stuff like that wouldn't randomly pop up unless there was an explanation behind it, even if it's not a scientific one."

That where Jehan differed from Enjolras. While Jehan accepted the metaphysical and the paranormal as a natural aspect of life, Enjolras' mind favoured more rational interpretations. It was weird, for sure. But people simply did not exist in two timelines. That didn't happen. They would know about it by now if it existed.

Enjolras rubbed his neck. It was stiff from staying up too late doing research on that fucking labour reform.

"I don't know what to tell you, Jehan. It's just beyond my understanding, you know? Maybe someone really looked like me, two hundred years ago. It happens. People have look alike, even today. As for the poem... I just don't know."

Jehan smiled at him softly and rubbed his shoulder.

"It's getting late, Enj'. Courf and Ferre are waiting for you. Get some rest, okay?"

"Thanks, Jehan. I'll try."

When Enjolras went to bed that night, he dreamt of a book of blank pages, and when he looked down, he had a rose in his breast pocket. The colour had bled onto his shirt, and the stain kept growing, and growing, and growing.

When he woke up, he could still smell a hint of gunpowder.

The following days were spend avoiding the news, which was highly inconvenient because a) Enjolras liked to keep himself informed and b) you never know how much news exposure there is until you try to avoid it. Enjolras just couldn't bear to see his face on the screen, or whoever's face it was. It freaked him out. It would have freaked anyone out. He didn't even know how Jehan coped with the fact that there was a book out there that mirrors their lyricism.

Eventually, he resorted to studying in his room, in the hope of avoiding the clutter of thoughts that raged in his mind. It's nothing, his reason kept telling him. In two centuries, at least two people were bound to look alike.

Still, he couldn't focus. He kept rereading the same sentence from his textbook over and over, none of it making much sense to a very noisy mind. Frustrated, Enjolras snapped the book closed and leant back against his chair. On his desk, his laptop was open on the google search page. He hesitated. Reason held back his hand, but another voice whispered to his ear. What if there was really something going on? Curiosity killed the cat, reason retorted. Enjolras took a deep breath.

Fuck it.

A quick search informed him that the paintings were being studied by experts in Paris, so that they could properly date it. A website had uploaded close up photographs of details, ranging from the golden laurel wreath crowning the model's head to his beauty marks. An uncomfortable feeling weighed on Enjolras' stomach. Even the details were uncanny.

The signature was studied under every angle, with matching hypothesis about who the painter could have been according to the loop of the R. People had really spent time on this. Enjolras was a stranger to art history and discoveries, so perhaps those paintings were a gold mine for people who worked in that field. Perhaps it was their Howard Carter discovering Tutankhamun's tomb moment.

He went back to the google homepage and typed "1832 France." The first results mentioned something about a cholera epidemic. Enjolras kept scrolling until something caught his eye. Republican Insurrection in Paris, 1832. Jean Maximilien Lamarque. He clicked the wikipedia link and started reading. Barricades, students, National Guard, Faubourg Saint-Martin... His eyes were glued to the screen.

That's something I could see myself participate in, Enjolras thought, before the uneasy feeling overwhelmed him again. That event felt too close for comfort. Yet, Enjolras kept on reading.

A knock on the door made him jump. He almost knocked his chair over, and himself with it. The sky had gone dark outside, and Enjolras's eyes had the greatest difficulty to adjust to the darkness. Someone switched the lights on.

"Are you okay?" Combeferre's voice asked.

"Yeah. I've just been staring at the screen for too long," Enjolras said, rubbing his eyes.

Though blurry, his vision got slightly better. For one thing, he could see Combeferre standing by the door. He was holding steaming mug in each of his hands.

"Is that coffee?"

"Infusion, actually," Combeferre smiled. "I came to see if you wanted one. You've been in here for hours, we were starting to get a little worried."

"I'm fine. I was just reading stuff."

Enjolras scratched his scalp and lifted his arm to accept Combeferrre's plant water. It wasn't coffee, but he had to admit he was parched. Combeferre sat on the bed next to him.

"Anything interesting?"

"Just history stuff. Very educational."

Enjolras closed the various tabs he had opened on the June Rebellion, accidentally missing the one about the three paintings. "Apollo in Red." The name seemed to have stuck.

"I thought you weren't interested in those," Combeferre pointed out, taking a sip out of his mug.

"I don't. I mean, I do but it's not... It's weird, right? I keep telling myself that it's not weird and that those kind of coincidences happen all the time, but it's still weird."

"Well it doesn't happen every day, that's for sure."

There was a moment of silence during which Enjolras sighed and dragged his hand across his face. His mind was buzzing.

"You look like you could use a break," Combeferre said, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. "Come. Courf is making dinner."

Enjolras nodded slowly. Maybe he did need a break. He followed Combeferre to the kitchen, holding his warm mug against his chest. In his room, Apollo in Red shone in the dark.

A few weeks passed. Enjolras still heard about Apollo in Red here and there, but it was quickly replaced by other, fresher stories. His heart still made a double back-flip when he heard that the experts had situated the completion of the pieces around the 1820s early 1830s. After that, he did his best to direct his mind towards the future to avoid dwelling on the distant past. Whatever happened to that sitter or the poet of Jehan's book, they were long gone. There was no time like the present.

Yet, in spite of his best efforts, Enjolras couldn't seem to escape the past. One morning, Courfeyrac presented him with a museum ticket, sliding the piece of paper across the breakfast bar.

"Thank you?" he said, a little confused. And sleepy.

"They're putting the paintings on display today," Courfeyrac explained. "Now you can see them from up close."

Enjolras' gaze went from Courfeyrac to the ticket. It was too early for this. He didn't even know if he wanted to be awake right now.

"Or you can just go to the museum after class," Courfeyrac shrugged, since Enjolras hadn't said anything. "For fun. Or whatever you go to museums for. Elevate your understanding of humanity, or some shit."

Enjolras let out a hoarse chuckle in his mug.

"I guess I'll consider that as a cultural outing. Thanks, Courf."

He carried the ticket around in his wallet for the rest of the day. By the end of it, Enjolras had forgotten up to its existence. It's only when he looked for his métro pass that he noticed the piece of paper stuck between his ID and his insurance card. The museum was only three stations away. For a minute, Enjolras stood there, debating whether or not he wanted to dive head first into the uncanny and the unexplainable. He looked at his watch. The museum was closing in an hour. The past can't hurt you, he thought as he got into the coach, waiting through the three stations.

There weren't as many people at the museum as he had expected. Perhaps because closing hour was slowly but surely ticking by. Enjolras didn't need to look for the painting for long. They had made sure to guide people right to the jewel of the exhibition. As Enjolras entered the oval room where the paintings were kept, his attention wasn't directed to the paintings, but to a familiar face, standing a few yards away.

Grantaire.

Enjolras' heart did a somersault. There was something about seeing Grantaire here, right next to Apollo in Red, but Enjolras couldn't quite pin point it. One of his hands held nervously on to the strap of his satchel as he came closer.

"Hey," he said, trying to sound casual, though the atmosphere didn't quite work in his favour. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Well, apparently I painted these, so I thought I might as well go and see them. My first exhibition. It's a very emotional moment."

Enjolras could tell he was joking, or endeavouring to. Maybe that's how he dealt with the uncanny and the unexplainable. On the wall, one of the paintings stared back at him. It was like looking in a mirror, but with a 180 year reflection delay. Enjolras lowered his eyes, stared down by his own image.

"Did Jehan tell you about their poem? The one that got denied for their poetry contest?"

Grantaire nodded, still looking at the paintings.

"Do you really thing it's remotely possible that this is me?"

"Maybe," Grantaire shrugged. "Why not?"

"Because it doesn't exist! It just doesn't happen like that. There's no way that could be me. I'm me, I am one person."

Voicing all the thoughts and doubts that had been reeling in his mind for so long felt liberating, though he had to keep his tone in check. Grantaire smirked at him.

"Now who's the skeptic, Apollo?"

"You can't be serious. It doesn't make sense."

"We're on a blue ball adrift in the universe, rotating around a giant ball of fire that will swallow us all one day. Nothing makes sense. Me painting you almost two centuries ago makes more sense than that."

Enjolras opened his mouth, but realised he had nothing to say to that. Yes. Maybe things didn't make sense. Maybe trying to make sense of it didn't make sense. He took a couple steps back and sat on a plastic bench. Grantaire followed him.

"So what if this is actually me? What does that mean?"

Grantaire shrugged.

"We may never know. But I have to say, my shading game was on point on that one."

"It's very beautifully done indeed," Enjolras agreed, giving him an amused look.

"Thank you."

"So that means we were close, right? If I sat for one of your pieces. Well. Three of your pieces."

He didn't really know if he was joking in all good fun or actually talking seriously anymore. For some reason, it felt right.

"Close enough for you to accept being drapped naked in a red sheet. It'd say that's pretty fucking close."

"How close?"

"Very close."

As close as they were now. Enjolras realised his hand was almost touching Grantaire's. To his own surprise, he found that he didn't mind it. On the contrary. That too, felt right.

"How much do you know about the June Rebellion?" Enjolras asked.

"What I've read online, why?"

"Well, I thought maybe you'd like to hear about it. It's all fascinating stuff. Maybe around a coffee, or something?"

He barely recognised the chirp in his own voice. Grantaire looked at him, as though he couldn't believe the words Enjolras had uttered. His face softened a second later.

"Yeah. Coffee sounds nice."

#les miserables #enjoltaire #enjoltaireweek2017 #exrweek2017 #enjolras #grantaire #exr #granjolras #written stuff #mine #les mis fic #les miserables fanfiction #les mis #les amis #courfeyrac #combeferrre #jehan #the ending is open because of course they fall in love #the luv

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kjack89 · 4 years ago

Text

Personal Gain (Chapter 3/?)

Modern magic AU, developing E/R and Courferre. Read Chapter 1 here and read Chapter 2 here (or read on AO3).

Thanks to the meeting and a rather long-winded conversation Enjolras and Combeferre had after said meeting, Courfeyrac didn’t have to listen to any of Combeferre’s objections until they got back to his place later that night. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t feel Combeferre’s accusatory glare the entire time.

“I thought you said that love was something magic couldn’t replicate,” Combeferre said sternly when Courfeyrac plopped down on the couch.

“And it can’t,” Courfeyrac said. “Maybe calling it a love potion is a little strong. It’s more like an attraction potion. Or a, uh…” He waggled his eyebrows at Combeferre. “A lust potion, you might say.”

Combeferre wrinkled his nose. “A lust potion?” he repeated doubtfully.

“That’s right,” Courfeyrac said cheerfully. “All I need is to get Enjolras to drink the potion, and bam, all those feelings of desire they’ve both been trying to hide will come pouring out, and he’ll want to possess and keep Grantaire.”

“First off, that sounds a little rape-y,” Combeferre pointed out. “Secondly, what if it misdirects at the wrong person, and we all have to sit through Enjolras having a crush on Feuilly again?”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “It requires a bit of the person it’s aimed at, so it’ll be fine,” he said confidently.

“I see you’re ignoring the rape-y part,” Combeferre said, and when Courfeyrac ignored him, instead flipping through the Book of Shadows, he sighed and added, “Guess we’ll have to revisit the topic of magical consent later.”

“We can revisit it now,” Courfeyrac murmured distractedly. “The potion only magnifies feelings that already exist, it doesn’t create them.”

“But it still reveals those feelings without consent,” Combeferre said, leaning forward, something almost excited in his tone, and Courfeyrac sighed, recognizing it all too well. This was an academic exercise for Combeferre, and while normally Courfeyrac was only too willing to help Combeferre puzzle his way through an intellectual problem, he wasn’t in the mood for it.

Instead, he picked up the Book of Shadows and headed into his kitchen to start gathering ingredients. Combeferre followed, and without any discussion, they started working together, Courfeyrac gathering the herbs he needed while Combeferre grabbed one of the smaller cauldrons and started filling it at the sink.

“I’m just saying,” Combeferre said over the sound of the running water. “If Enjolras and Grantaire haven’t said anything yet, maybe it’s for a reason.”

“There are a lot of reasons why people do and don’t say things,” Courfeyrac said. “But that doesn’t mean that my magic can’t help them.”

Combeferre turned the sink off and moved the cauldron to the stove. “Is helping them without their consent still considered helping?”

“The same question could be asked for all the magic that I do,” Courfeyrac pointed out, grabbing the tin of hibiscus tea that Jehan had given him from the cupboard and handing it to Combeferre, who opened a drawer to root around for the infuser. “It’s not possible to get consent in every or even most scenarios where my magic can help people. Would you rather I not use my magic at all?”

“I didn’t say that,” Combeferre said, filling the infuser with tea before handing it back to Courfeyrac, who promptly stuck it in the cauldron to steep. “And there are obvious situations where there isn’t time or the ability to get consent, just like in medicine. But you’re making a big assumption that your magic is helping and not hurting here, especially since you and I both know that your goal at the end of the day was to help yourself so that you don’t have to listen to them argue anymore.”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes before carefully measuring dried damiana petals into the cauldron. “No, that’s why you think I’m doing this.”

Combeferre leaned against the kitchen counter. “Fine, then why are you doing this?”

Courfeyrac sighed, absently unscrewing and rescrewing the lid of his mason jar of moon water as he tried to find the right words. “Because they should be together,” he said, just a little stubbornly. “Because they both would be so happy with each other if they would just admit how they feel. Because I can help them realize that they have nothing to lose and everything to gain if they would just, I don’t know, use their words.” He shook his head, rummaging for a teaspoon in a drawer. “Because I love love.”

Combeferre’s expression was unreadable as he watched Courfeyrac sprinkle moon water into the cauldron, each droplet hissing as it hit the bubbling concoction. “Well, then, for your sake, I hope this works.”

“It will,” Courfeyrac said confidently, stirring the cauldron. “It’s foolproof.” Combeferre made a small noise of amusement and Courfeyrac glanced over at him. “What?” he asked defensively.

“Nothing,” Combeferre said. “Just...famous last words, you know?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Courfeyrac sniffed.

Combeferre grinned. “I’m sure you don’t.”

----------

The inaccurately named love potion took two weeks to brew, so Courfeyrac focused on getting the final ingredient: a little piece of Grantaire. This was made far easier than he expected by Enjolras, who came to the next Les Amis meeting looking even paler than usual. “You look like shit,” Grantaire told him, and Enjolras glared at him.

“You really know how to charm a guy,” he muttered, rubbing his arms. “It’s just freezing in here, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Grantaire said skeptically, tugging his ratty green hoodie off and thrusting it unceremoniously at Enjolras. “Well, if you’re not going to go to bed and get some rest like I’m certain you should, at least this will stop you from shivering so hard we won’t be able to understand you.”

“Thanks,” Enjolras said grudgingly, taking the hoodie and pulling it on.

It was from that hoodie that Courfeyrac was able to inconspicuously pluck a few black hairs, which he added to the love potion that night.

And since Enjolras spent the next two weeks mutinously pretending he didn’t have a cold, it was easy enough for Courfeyrac to offer him some ‘tea’ when the time came. “For your, uh, allergies,” Courfeyrac said brightly, practically forcing the steaming mug on him.

“Danks,” Enjolras said, still wearing Grantaire’s hoodie, his stuffy nose making him sound far more like Joly than himself. He took a swig of tea and made a face. “New recipe?”

“Just something I’m trying out,” Courfeyrac said breezily. “Drink up, drink up.”

As Enjolras obediently drank the tea, Courfeyrac glanced over at Grantaire, who was watching Enjolras with a look of mild concern, though Courfeyrac speculated that had more to do with Enjolras’s stubborn insistence that he was healthy and hale than anything else. Enjolras handed the empty mug back, looking slightly less sickly than he had moments before. “I’d stick with the old recipe,” he advised. “I’m not sure—”

He broke off with a frown, and Courfeyrac tried not to look too eager. “Problem?”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “No, I’m—”

He broke off again, but this time it was because he had been interrupted by a loud meow from somewhere around their ankles, and both men immediately looked down at the black cat that was twining through Enjolras’s legs and looking up at him…

Well, looking up at him with a look very much like one Grantaire normally wore.

“What are you doing in here?” Enjolras asked, sounding concerned, and he bent to pick the cat up.

Courfeyrac blinked. “Do you, uh, know this cat?”

Enjolras stroked the cat’s cheek with the back of his finger and nodded, his brow furrowed. “Sure, it’s the cat that lives in the alley outside, but I’ve never seen him come inside like this. He normally hisses if anyone gets too close. He’ll let me or Grantaire leave some food for him every now and then, but…”

He trailed off as the cat rubbed his head against Enjolras’s chest, purring loudly. “Maybe it’s because I’m wearing Grantaire’s hoodie?” he suggested, baffled.

As if he had heard his name, Grantaire appeared at Enjolras’s side, frowning. “What is the cat doing in here?” he asked, reaching out as if to pet the cat and jerking his hand back when the cat whipped his head around, hissing. “Nice kitty.”

“It’s ok,” Enjolras told the cat, his voice slipping into something that sounded an awful lot like a coo. “Grantaire brings you food sometimes, and you let him give you scritches, remember?”

The cat gazed adoringly up at Enjolras and Grantaire scowled, crossing his arms in front in his chest. “The damned thing was just letting me play with him a few weeks ago,” he complained. “And now I can’t even touch him? Not fair.”

Combeferre, who had been seated nearby watching this all unfold as he refused, this time around, to play any direct role in Courfeyrac’s spell-casting, cleared his throat. “Neither of you should probably be touching the cat,” he said. “It probably has fleas.”

But Enjolras ignored him, stroking the cat between the ears, his expression soft. “Maybe he’s tired of living in an alley,” he said. “Maybe I should take him home with me.”

Grantaire made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Home?” he repeated. “To your apartment that has a very clear ‘no pets’ policy in its lease?”

Enjolras ignored him and Courfeyrac frowned at Grantaire. “How in the world do you know what’s in Enjolras’s lease?”

Grantaire just arched an eyebrow. “How do you not know what’s in Enjolras’s lease?”

“That doesn’t even make sense—”

Courfeyrac’s protest was cut off by a sudden burst of frenetic sneezing from Bossuet. “Sorry,” he managed between. “I’m – achoo! – allergic.”

Joly patted Bossuet’s arm sympathetically. “A cat may be a corrective, but in this case, I think Benadryl’s your better bet,” he said with a stifled laugh. “Besides, it’s a black cat, and I’m not sure you need any more bad luck.”

“Maybe you should put the cat back outside,” Grantaire suggested, and when Enjolras and the cat both gave him an affronted look, he shrugged and added, “Unless you’d rather abandon the entire meeting for madness. I’m fine either way.”

Enjolras made a face, looking back down at the cat. “Maybe you’re right,” he said reluctantly. “C’mon, buddy, let’s go outside. I’ll see you after the meeting, how about that?”

He carried the cat out of the room, Grantaire trailing after him, and Courfeyrac let out a light groan, sinking down next to Combeferre, who didn’t even try to hide his ‘I told you so’ look. “You know what I’m thinking?” he asked mildly.

Courfeyrac groaned again and leaned forward to rest his forehead against the table. “That the hairs I pulled off of Grantaire’s hoodie were clearly cat hairs, and that, having read Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets about twenty-five thousand times, I probably should’ve seen this coming?”

Combeferre considered it for a second. “Well, that too.”

Courfeyrac turned his head to squint suspiciously at Combeferre. “What were you thinking?” he asked warily.

Combeferre’s grin was unbearably smug. “Like I said...famous last words.”

“Just you wait,” Courfeyrac said, sitting up. “I will figure out a way to get those two together, or I will die trying.”

Combeferre arched an eyebrow. “That seems a little dramatic, even for you.”

Courfeyrac’s eyes narrowed. “Just you wait. You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“Well, given your success rate thus far, that certainly is true.”

Courfeyrac elbowed him sharply in the ribs and Combeferre groaned and laughed at the same time. “Worth it,” he muttered, rubbing his ribs, and Courfeyrac stuck his tongue out at him, his mind far away, trying to figure out just what, exactly, he had left to try next.

>>Read chapter 4 here>>

#exr #courferre #courfeyrac #combeferre #enjolras #grantaire #joly #bossuet #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #magic au #developing relationship #chaptered #part 3

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kjack89 · 4 years ago

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Personal Gain (Chapter 5/6)

Yeah, it’s definitely gonna be six chapters.

Happy Halloween! Hope you are all having a fun, safe celebration!

Modern magic AU, developing E/R and Courferre. Read Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here, Chapter 3 here and Chapter 4 here (or catch up on AO3).

The key to most physical magic with inanimate objects was understanding that at least one of the components was once alive. Sure, it was several million years back in some cases, but as the quote went, ‘we are all stardust’ blah blah blah.

Courfeyrac didn’t remember the exact quote, but the sentiment was what mattered. And the sentiment was what was going to allow him to break into Enjolras’s apartment.

All it took was a little persuasion to remind the metal in the lock that it had once lived in the earth before it was dug up and smelted, and it was easy enough after that to politely request that it unlock for him. Combeferre had tried to figure the process out once and almost had a nervous breakdown; he’d had an easier time understanding one of Joly’s stranger theories of magnetism.

But the important thing was that it worked, and Courfeyrac slipped into Enjolras’s apartment, a handful of already-spelled, nondescript crystals ready to cast and maintain the spell that would finally force Enjolras and Grantaire to admit to each other what they thus far had refused to.

Courfeyrac grinned triumphantly as he glanced around. He already knew Enjolras was out, having sent Combeferre to meet up with him for coffee, and Grantaire and Bahorel had a standing boxing match to keep him occupied, which left Courfeyrac with about forty-five minutes to get the crystals placed and ensure the spell was cast.

He doubted it would take him even a fraction of that time.

Four crystals were carefully placed in the cardinal sides of the apartment: along the north wall, tucked on a bookshelf behind a few first year law textbooks that Courfeyrac doubted Enjolras had opened in close to a decade; as far east as the apartment went, dropped into the tank of the toilet in the bathroom (Courfeyrac couldn’t help but giggle as he did so); in the south of the apartment, placed behind the alarm clock in Enjolras’s bedroom; and the west, in the kitchen pantry behind a stack of expired ramen.

“Disgusting,” Courfeyrac said, wrinkling his nose as he shifted the ramen packets back into place. “Hopefully Grantaire actually feeds you real food when you two finally get together.”

The fifth and final crystal went in as central a location as Courfeyrac could manage, hidden in the pot of some houseplant, almost certainly a gift from Jehan at some point, that Enjolras had not yet managed to kill. After Courfeyrac pressed the crystal into the soil, and ran his fingers over the leaves, frowning at how dry they were. “Perk up,” he ordered, passing some vitality into the plant, the leaves almost instantly perking up and greening.

Satisfied, Courfeyrac straightened, glancing around the apartment. There was something odd about it, something Courfeyrac couldn’t quite put his finger on, and he frowned slightly, trying to place what felt like it was missing. Then his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he dug it out, reading the text from Combeferre. Enjolras ended coffee early. He’s on his way back. Get out of there.

Courfeyrac slid his phone back in his pocket and glanced around one more time. “Alright, one last test,” he said aloud. He paused, trying to think of what to say. “I hate—” The words seemed heavy in his mouth, and he couldn’t seem to get out what he was trying to say.

Meaning the honesty spell was working.

He nodded officiously and headed out, closing the door after him with a satisfied snap. He placed his hand on the door, the wood grain warm underneath his palm. “Thank you,” he whispered, grinning as he heard the lock slide back into the place.

His job there was done. Now all he had to do was wait.

----------

If he was being honest, Courfeyrac expected for Enjolras and Grantaire to walk into the next Les Amis meeting holding hands and blushing as they told their friends that they were dating.

“You’re an idiot,” Combeferre told him as he glanced expectantly at the doorway, almost vibrating with excitement.

“Better an idiot than a cynic,” Courfeyrac shot back.

Combeferre gasped with mock-outrage. “You take that back, he said, and Courfeyrac grinned, thought he straightened when he saw Enjolras.

Who came in alone.

Scrolling through his phone.

And looking like absolutely nothing was different.

“Told you so,” Combeferre muttered, and Courfeyrac elbowed him.

“Hey Enj,” he said brightly as Enjolras approached. “How are you doing?”

Enjolras just grunted as he sat down, not looking up from his phone. “Did you see this about the 8th Circuit Court of Appeals and vote by mail ballots in Minnesota?” he demanded, gesturing at his phone as if Combeferre and Courfeyrac could read whatever was on his screen.

“Uh, no,” Courfeyrac said, glancing over at Combeferre, whose expression was resigned. “Have you seen Grantaire recently?”

“Huh?” Enjolras said distractedly. “No, uh, I actually have seen him in a few days.”

Now Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged startled looks. “Really?” Combeferre asked doubtfully. “Did you two have a fight?”

“The only fight that I have is with the courts and their asinine rulings,” Enjolras said with a scowl, still looking down at his phone as he furiously typed something.

Combeferre cleared his throat and stood, gesturing for Courfeyrac to join him. “Care to explain?” he asked when they were out of Enjolras’s earshot.

Courfeyrac shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe Grantaire’s been busy?” he suggested. “It just seems like they haven’t spent a lot of time together recently, and this plan relies on them being together.”

“It sure does,” Combeferre said, with something like disapproval. “And, uh, did you consider what would happen if they didn’t spend any time together?”

Courfeyrac stared at him. “Look, even if they’ve fought recently or something like that, Grantaire will wander back into Enjolras’s apartment eventually.” Combeferre didn’t look convinced and Courfeyrac nudged him. “C’mon. Trust me. It’s only been a few days. It’ll be fine.”

Combeferre opened his mouth to say something but at that moment, Joly, Grantaire and Bossuet spilled into the room, all seeming in their usual good spirits, and Courfeyrac glanced over at Combeferre, smirking slightly. “See? He’s just been busy.”

“If you say so,” Combeferre said, following him back to their seats.

----------

Two weeks later, Courfeyrac was beginning to think that Combeferre was right, and he hated when Combeferre was right.

Enjolras was just as distracted as ever, barely spending any time at Les Amis meetings before disappearing, assumedly to his apartment, and Grantaire seemed to be spending most of his time with his other friends, his mood getting darker and darker as the days went on.

Whatever fight they’d had, clearly it was enough for Grantaire to be avoiding Enjolras’s apartment, thus casting doubt that Courfeyrac’s plan was going to work.

“How long is this going to go on for?” Combeferre asked Courfeyrac in an undertone as Enjolras discussed something about Poland’s abortion ban with Feuilly while Grantaire watched them, nursing a beer, his expression dark.

Courfeyrac sighed, stirring his drink with his straw. “Well, the spell only lasts for about two more weeks before I’d need to renew it,” he said with another sigh. “But I don’t want either of them to spend two more weeks like this.” He scowled as Grantaire drained his beer. “I don’t know why this is happening. This plan was supposed to be foolproof!”

“In fairness, you didn’t plan for Enjolras and Grantaire having some kind of fight that’s kept Grantaire from going to Enjolras’s apartment,” Combeferre said reasonably. “Maybe you can talk to Grantaire, see if you can find out what happened and, you know, fix it?”

“What, use my magic on whatever they’re fighting about?” Courfeyrac asked skeptically.

Combeferre gave him a look. “I meant talking to him and getting him to make up with Enjolras. All magic aside, you’re generally pretty good at that.”

Courfeyrac considered it. “Well, it can’t hurt,” he agreed, tossing back his drink and going to join Grantaire. “You look like you need a refill,” he said by way of greeting, and Grantaire looked up at him, smiling slightly.

“You read my mind,” he said, standing up and grabbing his empty beer bottle before following Courfeyrac to the bar. “Though I think I actually need a stronger drink rather than a refill.”

“Yeah, you looked like you had something on your mind,” Courfeyrac said, leaning against the bar. “Something happen with you and Enjolras?”

For a moment, Grantaire’s expression seemed frozen, then he snorted, picking at the label of his empty beer bottle. “You, uh, you noticed that, huh?” he asked gruffly.

“Pretty hard not to,” Courfeyrac said evenly. “But this seems worse than your usual fights.”

Grantaire sighed. “Honestly, I’m not even sure that we’re having a fight. I don’t know what this is, or what I did, or...anything, really.”

Courfeyrac frowned. “What’s going on?”

Grantaire shook his head slowly. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Everything was going fine – great, even – and then all of sudden…” He trailed off as the bartender brought him a shot and a fresh beer, flashing her a tired smile before picking up the shot. “Sláinte,” he said, toasting Courfeyrac with the shot before downing it. “All of a sudden, it’s like Enjolras didn’t even want to be in the same room as me. Like he didn’t want anything to do with me.”

Courfeyrac’s insides ran cold. “But didn’t he…” He trailed off, trying to figure out a better way to ask the question that didn’t reveal too much. “I thought he was spending a lot of time at his place?”

“All his time!” Grantaire burst, looking miserable, and Courfeyrac blinked in confusion.

“But—” he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“And I thought I was doing the nice thing, letting him keep his place, y’know? Because I know my schedule can get weird, and so can his, and even though living with him is all it feels like I’ve ever wanted, I also want him to have his space when he needs it, but if I had known he was going to spend all his time there—”

Courfeyrac opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Thankfully, Grantaire didn’t seem to notice, well caught-up in a rant now, his anger and sadness and fear mingling in his expression. “He has not slept in bed with me for over two weeks. He barely looks at me – I don’t even remember the last time we kissed.” He broke off, swallowing hard, and Courfeyrac was horrified to see tears in his eyes. “I swear to God, Courf, he is the love of my life but I don’t think I’m his. Not anymore.”

Courfeyrac’s stomach was somewhere around his knees, and he clutched the edge of the bar to keep himself upright. Grantaire was looking at him as if expecting him to say something, and Courfeyrac cleared his throat before asking weakly, “Uh...when?”

He had meant it to be more elegant, and for a moment, when Grantaire just stared at him blankly, he thought desperately of ways he could clarify his question, but it was too late. “He didn’t even tell you?” Grantaire asked quietly, and Courfeyrac winced.

“He- well, that is- see, the thing about Enjolras—”

“He didn’t even tell you?”

Grantaire no longer looked sad – he looked pissed. “We start dating six months ago, move in together over a month ago, and he doesn’t even tell one of his best friends?”

Courfeyrac hesitated. “I, uh, I don’t think Combeferre knows either.”

Grantaire eyes flashed. “Son of a—”

“But I’m sure Enjolras was planning on telling us!” Courfeyrac added hastily. “At some point. Probably.”

But Grantaine just shook his head, his expression stony. “He wasn’t,” he said. “I should have realized it was too easy. When Enjolras said he wanted to try this thing for real, I didn’t believe him at first, but I thought, what the hell? What’s the worst that could happen? And then after a few months when he told me that he loved me, that he wanted to take this to the next level and move in together, it was everything I ever wanted, so I didn’t question it, but I...I should’ve realized…” He trailed off. “Well, I should’ve realized it was too good to be true.”

He grabbed his beer and turned to leave, but Courfeyrac reached out and grabbed his arm. “He loves you,” he blurted, and Grantaire just shook his head, not looking back at him.

“He couldn’t even be bothered to tell you, one of his best friends, that we were dating. That we were living together.” He shook his head again. “I don’t know what that is, but it’s not love.”

“He didn’t tell us about you because he loves you.”

Now Grantaire turned to stare at him. “What are you talking about?”

For one brief, desperate moment, Courfeyrac thought about using his magic to get himself out of this – a quick illusion spell, or a temporary forgetfulness, something without too lasting of effects so he could get out of there and figure out what the hell he was going to do.

But he had already caused this, with his spell that was meant to get them together and instead had driven them apart.

And he owed Grantaire to tell him, if not the truth, then at least something that might help. And his magic wasn’t going to help him with that.

“Enjolras loves you,” he said, as honestly as he could. “You two are perfect for each other, and everyone knows it. Probably before you both did. He loves you, and he doesn’t know what to do with that, because he’s him, and you’re you. That’s why he didn’t tell me and Combeferre, because if he tells us and it all falls apart with you— He wouldn’t know what to do with that either.”

Grantaire shook his head slightly but didn’t try to interrupt, and Courfeyrac barrelled forward. “He loves spending time with you. Why do you think you two have spent so many late nights together at the Musain, or his old apartment before you moved in together? How many times have you two got into a knock-down, drag out fight that should’ve ended with him banning you from Les Amis but never has? Because he wants you there, wants you in his life.”

Though Grantaire’s expression had softened, just slightly, he still didn’t look convinced and Courfeyrac took a deep breath before continuing. “Look, I know Enjolras. Almost better than anyone else. And he would not have taken that first step with you, let alone moving in together, if he was not 1000% convinced that this was what he wanted. That you were who he wanted. That you were the first person he wants to see each day and the last person he wants to see at night.”

For some reason, even though Courfeyrac was talking about Enjolras and Grantaire, he kept thinking about Combeferre, of all the time they had spent together in the past several weeks – the past several years, if Courfeyrac was being honest.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on that right now. “I know things between you and Enjolras are weird right now. But I promise, if you hang in there, things will get back on track for you.”

“When?” Grantaire asked, a little desperately.

“About twenty-five minutes, give or take,” Courfeyrac muttered, thinking of how long it would take him to get to Enjolras’s apartment and neutralize the attraction spell.

“What?” Grantaire asked, his brow furrowed, and Courfeyrac shook his head and forced a smile.

“Let me buy you a shot,” he said. “To, uh, help pass the time until things get better.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Courfeyrac nodded. “Yeah,” he said firmly. “How about—” He caught sight of a familiar-looking bottle and couldn’t help but smile, just slightly. “How about a shot of Jäger?”

Grantaire wrinkled his nose. “Pass,” he said dismissively. “I can’t stand Jäger.”

“Really?” Courfeyrac asked. “I didn’t think there was any alcohol you didn’t like.”

Grantaire laughed. “Understandable, but, God no. I hate licorice.”

Courfeyrac opened his mouth to reply but froze, something rising unbidden in the back of his mind. Licorice root – star anise – ginger – ginseng...all flavors in Jäger.

And all components of the love potion he had used on Enjolras.

The love potion Combeferre had watched him make.

“Earth to Courf,” Grantaire said loudly, and Courfeyrac blinked, looking back at him. “You buying me that shot or what?”

“Uh, yeah, here,” he said, opening his wallet and tossing a few bills on the bar without looking. “Sorry, I— there’s something I have to go do.”

Grantaire’s brow furrowed. “Everything ok?” he asked.

“Fine,” Courfeyrac said, digging his cellphone out his pocket. “Or at least, it will be.”

He didn’t wait for a reply from Grantaire, already weaving through the crowd toward the door, typing a text message as he did.

Meet me at Enjolras’s. We need to talk.

>>Read chapter 6 here>>

#exr #courferre #enjolras #grantaire #courfeyrac #combeferre #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #magic au #developing relationship #chaptered #part 5

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