#this is a joke i actually love courferre

[writtenbyleguin]

me as a fujoshi in 1832 selling my hand written mariusxcourfeyrac doujinshi when i spot my archnemesis who ships courfeyracxcombeferre and les amis are listening to her instead of buying my doujin

[dameferre]

can we see a snippet from the "penpals!" courferre one :0

of course! i will warn you this will. most likely never see the light of day BUT it’s based off of ‘the year of secret assignments’ by jaclyn moriarty, a... kind of ridiculous book i bought at a charity shop at like. age 10? or something

basically these three sets of teenagers are assigned pen pals at a neighboring school, and hijinks ensue, with one set of penpals giving each other secret assignments (hence the title), the other set of penpals being a girl who writes to a guy who uses a fake name (that plotline ends horribly, it would not have done so in my fic lmao)

one finally one set of penpals (a boy and a girl) decide to start having practice dates, so the guy can hone his skills and ask out a girl he likes, and the girl can critique his form, and... i mean i think we all know how this goes.

anyway, it’s half in letter format, half actual writing the story. here’s a snip! (under the cut because i. couldn’t help myself)

Official Assessment of the Second Meeting By Chance executed by The Lord of Flowers, Combeferre, henceforth referred to as the Subject, as reviewed by Courfeyrac the Ravishing, henceforth referred to as The Operative.

NOTES

When the Operative (and Guest) approached, the Subject smiled very nicely. It was a sort of surprised, warm smile that lit up his face. Did the Subject practice his ‘oh I was hoping to see you and I’m so glad I have’ smile in the mirror?

The Subject did a very good job of consoling the Guest, and as it turns out, the Subject’s height is not as offensive as previously thought, as he holds an umbrella perfectly.

The Subject was much more relaxed this time, and funny, and his hair fluffed a little in the humidity which was adorable. He had a great way of explaining things to the Operative without being patronising, and teased admirably. The Operative spent a good 80% of the walk laughing, but upon writing report can’t remember a specific instance of hilarity. The Subject should have more memorable jokes next time.

Overall, great work Combeferre. You’ll have Feuilly falling over himself to get to you in no time.

Yours,

Courfeyrac the Ravishing

--

Courfeyrac,

You seem to be losing your touch; that last review lacked the mildly insulting bluntness I’ve grown so accustomed to. Does this mean we’re becoming friends?

Anyway, I’m now, as you would say, ‘balls-deep in tech week’ and halfway through my descent into the deepest pit of hell. The entire production is an original script written by a friend of mine, named Jehan Prouvaire, who decided to rewrite the final scene this weekend. They’re my friend, have been for years, but even I wanted to murder them slowly. The cast is hard at work trying to learn the scene, while I had to stay late last night redoing all the cues.

The worst part of it is, the new ending is fucking fantastic, so we can’t even stay mad at them.

It’s exhausting. Literally exhausting; I got three hours of sleep last night.

Anyway, I’m writing this as a way of avoiding calculus homework. Not that I wouldn’t write to you if I didn’t have calculus homework, but it is harder to just ramble on about my life now that we’ve met in person. I don’t think I ever would have told you about Feuilly if we had met before we started writing. There was something in the anonymity that made it easier, like writing into a diary. I hope you don’t take this as an insult- what I mean to say is that now that I know you, I want you to like me. And by extension, I want you to know a lot less about exactly how lame I am.

Anyway, I wanted to say I won’t be able to make a meeting by chance this week, though I know telling you that ruins some of the fun. If I’m around next week, which is really looking less and less likely every time an actor misplaces a prop or mic pack and I am forced, once again, to weigh the pros and cons of murder, I’d be happy to accidentally run into you on my way home from school.

Side note- Avi(my brother) comes home next week, which lines up nicely with Mom’s birthday and means he’ll be able to see the show. It’ll be nice to have him back. I think you’d like him; he’s the attractive one in the family, and the extrovert. He’s also a mechanical engineer who medal-ed in track when he was my age. Basically, he got all the good genes, but he’s too nice to admit it.

Anyway, calculus beckons.

See you on the other side, Combeferre

p.s. Only you would practice a smile. Mine was genuine, I swear.

--

My Dearest Combeferre,

FIRST DAY OF PRACTICE STARTS TOMORROW HELL YEAH

I mean, yes, technically the other guys on my team have been practicing for two weeks but I have sadly been out of commission. BUT NOT ANYMORE BABY THE BITCH IS BACK

This will help distract me from the pain and yearning as I wait a whole week to see you again. I’ll be wistfully wandering the moors before Saturday, mark my words.

I’m also fascinated by the idea of a brother who’s you, but more attractive. Does it hurt to look at him directly? Do strangers fall in love on the spot? Is he officially considered a menace to society because he’s caused traffic accidents and ruined weddings by walking past at the wrong moment?

Someone should put a stop to him before things get out of control! No man should wield such power.

The idea that you, of gorgeous cheekbones, perfect hair, jawline, and eyes and face in general, notorious multi-tasker, valedictorian and walking encyclopedia, not to mention polyglot, could think someone else got the good genes means either you are humble to the point of actively lying to yourself or your brother is a minor deity.

Courfeyrac, I can hear you saying, flattery really isn’t necessary.

But it is! Enjolras, who I’ve mentioned before and is my best friend in the whole world, is gorgeous to the point of being inconvenient to look at. I’m a notorious flirt, I know this, and I’m good at it, but we’re not even in the same league when it comes to making people question their sexualities. He walks into a room and you can see half the people inside mentally decide they’re bi-curious. He’s also a raving lunatic and antagonistic asshole, which he openly accepts and takes pride in, but try to tell him he’s attractive and he looks at you like you’ve just suggested he’s got wings or a tail. So what I’m trying to say, I think, is that I’m used to people not realising how good looking they are. And bludgeoning them with compliments is my way of dealing with this.

Anyway. Getting sidetracked.

I’m flattered you use me as a method of procrastination! I’m gonna make myself a button that says ‘more interesting than calculus’ and wear it with pride. Also, is writing to pen pals not mandatory at the Academy? We’re given a half hour block during the study period. When we first started, Enjolras said the whole thing was “infantile and outdated and a waste of time”, but at this very moment he is on page six (6) of his latest aggressive correspondence to his mystery R, even though I saw what R sent him last time and it was, I shit you not, an envelope that was empty except for a tiny (approx. 3 centimeters long) rubber chicken. For context, the one before was a thorough analysis of wage inequality written entirely in pig latin.

I hope one day I meet this person, even if immediately afterwards they steal my kidney or turn me into a newt or whatever minor trickster gods do these days to pass the time when they’re not torturing my best friend.

Anyway, gotta go, stay sane, don’t kill anyone unless you really have to, and if so lemme know and I’ll help you get rid of the body. I know a guy.

Courfeyrac

p.s. I already like you, idiot.

[aromantic-enjolras]

Hi !!!

Okay so I read The Fic (or, the first chapter, and on that note I CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT ONES HOW COULD YOU LEAVE US ON A CLIFFHANGER LIKE THAT /lh)

I love it I love their relationships!! I love Chubby Courf, and his hair being a different colour everytime, I love enj and ferre as childhood friends, I love the /softness/ of courferre, I love how easy they are together and how they all have a different vibe with each other

I find it pretty cool how you took the time to establish the background, and how they clicked, I thought the time skips were done very smoothly, it flows well

Also,, setting the flag on fire. Y e s.

<3

(This is talking about my new fic, “Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight)”, in case you’re wondering)

*Cackles maniacally* Well, if I hadn't left you on a cliffhanger, I would never had gotten to see all your horrified reactions to the cliffhanger! And believe me, I'm savouring every single one of them. I'm evil like that. :)

Thank you for giving me such a detailed comment! I love that a bunch of you are picking on Courfeyrac's hair colours, I put it there as a joke for myself, I wasn't expecting you to pick it up. ^^ And I'm very glad you like the interpersonal relationships! I did put a big effort into making the three of them into distinct characters with distinct relationships, especially after talking to @pumpkinspice-prouvaire about how they don’t like Courferre because it “breaks the Triumvirate up” and going “yeah, but they have different relationships, so in my head it makes sense”. Combeferre and Enjolras childhood friends/almost brothers has to be one of my favourite headcanons for them. It makes me so very soft. <3

And I wish I could take credit for the flag-burning, but that was actually @p-trichor‘s idea. I didn’t know what to put there, and I asked them for something at teenage Courf could do, and they went “MAKE THEM BURN SOMETHING” and I loved it. Glad you do too! ^^

Do I have your go-ahead to put this on Ao3? I love this comment, and I would love to have it on Ao3 where I can go back and look at it whenever I want!

[bisexuallsokka]

wait a minue hold up why does courferre kinda = zukka now that u mention it like. the dynamic of the funny loud one and the quiet hardworking one i- plz excuse me while i lose my mind

OKAY IM SAYING

it’s about two people who others think are complete opposites but in reality they have a lot in common and they know each other perfectly well, who trust each other completely, who enjoy each other’s company no matter what they are doing. who are best friends for so long, who are affectionate with each other, until they’re hit with the realization that oh, this is the person i want to be with forever and i love them and also really want to kiss them. like you said, there is the funny and loud one with terrible jokes who puts on a tough face but actually opens up when around their best friend, the more reserved one who is very hardworking and focused but who finds himself distracted by the other on a regular basis

[sentinelstars]

Since I haven’t figured out how to work AO3 as a writer yet, here is a mini Courferre bullet fic thing that popped into my mind. Enjoy :)

Courfeyrac who is friendly and charming, and who flirts with his friends until they get flustered as a way to show affection.

No, seriously. He’s even made Enjolras blush and stammer on a few occasions, although admittedly he’s not as good at it as Grantaire. 

Courfeyrac who treats it like a game, even if he always wins in the end, it’s the initial challenge that makes it fun. 

Courfeyrac showing up early to an ABC meeting and shouting a pick up line at Joly and winking, only quitting once the doctor slaps him gently in protest and Musichetta hands him his drink with a warning look. 

Courfeyrac being told off by his best friend Combeferre, who is clearly not in the best of moods today

Courfeyrac draping himself across Combeferre’s shoulders and making kissy faces, throwing out a compliment that would make a nun pass out 

Combeferre reacting icily and motioning for Courfeyrac to sit down so that they can begin

Courfeyrac realizing, with horror, that Combeferre hadn’t even flinched at his valiant attempts at flirting.

Worried that he is losing his touch, Courfyerac walks over and sits with Bahorel, Bossuet, and Feuilly, missing the glare that Combeferre shoots at his back

Courfeyrac wrapping his arms around Bahorel and whispering in his ear until the man turns red. Courfeyrac sitting down with his drink, relieved that he is still just as charming as ever

But why didn’t Ferre react, then?

Courfeyrac slowly realizing that Combeferre has never reacted to any of his shenanigans, never blushed or stammered. The guide only ever looked at him over his book sternly until Courf backed off.

Courfeyrac making it his personal mission to get Ferre to react somehow, refusing to leave his friend alone for the duration of the meeting.

I mean, he tries everything. Cheesy pick up lines, physical affection, his trade-mark smile and wink- nothing works. Combeferre only reacts with a stern look that makes something in Courfeyrac’s chest hurt. He redoubles his efforts

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk past you again?” “Courf, we’ve known each other for 10 years,” Combeferre sighs, before continuing. “Sit down, you’re embarrassing yourself.” 

It’s cold, even for Combeferre, but something in Courfeyrac’s gut won’t allow him to give up. He only sits down and stops when Enjolras walks over, looking like he might actually murder the both of them

 Ferre gathers up his stuff and exits quickly, before Courf or Enjolras can say a word to him.

Courf sits at the bar and has an internal crisis, trying to figure out why- why Ferre won’t react, and perhaps, more importantly, why Courf cares so much, why he gets that feeling when Combeferre looks him in the eye. It feels like Courfeyrac is freezing and melting all at once, like that single stare has trapped him in a cage, yet his heart seems to be soaring far away, leaving him behind. 

Grantaire is next to him, rambling on about what classical figure Enjolras reminded him of today, and Courf isn’t really listening. Well, until Grantaire suggests that they go to a club with some of the others and get drinks. “Yes!” Courfeyrac blurts out before he can stop himself

At the club, Courfeyrac can almost forget about Combeferre, with all of the attention he’s getting. He has four sets of numbers written on his arm, although they’re all blurred by the sweat from dancing. He’s tipsy and laughing, with Bahorel’s arm around him, and yet he still has a nagging feeling at the back of his mind

Courfeyrac leaves to get another drink and as he’s waiting at the bar, alone, the hair on the back of his neck stands up, like he’s being watched. He turns around and there’s his best friend, Combeferre, standing at the edge of the club and quickly looking away

Courfeyrac walks over to him in disbelief. “Are you seriously trying to hide? It won’t work, I’ve never seen somebody look so out of place at a club!” 

Ferre cooly explains that he’s there as a designated driver for Joly, Bossuet, and Jehan, and it drives Courfeyrac absolutely crazy that even after Courf caught him staring, he still acts calm, collected, and unashamed

That feeling in his gut is back, and Courf follows it, flirting with his best friend as though he’s some common stranger at the club, not ceasing his efforts even when Grantaire tries to pull him back out to go dance

He becomes so desperate that he goes for horrible, awful lines that he hasn’t used since middle school. “I hope you know CPR, because you take my breath away,”

“I’m a doctor, Courf. Listen-” 

But that matter of fact statement sets Courf over the edge. He groans, waving his hand dismissively, “Fuck you, then! I’ll go find someone else to take home tonight!” He means it as a joke, he really does. But he can’t help but notice the air of finality there is as he begins to walk away

Combeferre grabs his arm and fixes him with that look, and Courfeyrac, is for once, at a loss for words. Suddenly, they’re walking to the hallway where the bathrooms are, and Combeferre’s lips are on his and he’s kissing him insistently. Courfeyrac, temporarily stunned, stands there, alcohol-addled brain taking a few moments to comprehend that Combeferre, his best friend, is kissing him

Once he does figure it out, however, Courfeyrac kisses back with enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around Ferre tightly, clinging on to him like he might leave any second. Courf feels like, without Combeferre there, steadying him, he’d collapse, because his knees are weak and his balance is all off

Suddenly, Ferre stops kissing him and pulls away. Courfeyrac looks up at him with a grin slowly starting to form, but his cheeky comment is cut short when he notices the look of absolute horror on Combeferre’s face.

“We should get out of here-” “I’m driving you home.” “And coming inside after?” Courfeyrac asks hopefully, wiggling his eyebrows.

Ferre blushes, he actuallly blushes, and Courfeyrac thinks that now he can die happy. That is, until Ferre says firmly, “No. You’re drunk. You’re going home to Marius and I’m going home to my bed.” 

“We can have a sleepover like we used to-” “No!” Ferre looks distressed, horrified at himself, and Courfeyrac feels his heart breaking. “Ferre-” he pleads gently, reaching towards him, but Combeferre holds him at arms distance. “You’re drunk. I can’t- How could I-?” the doctor pulls at his hair, before pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning.

Courfeyrac doesn’t even know how to react, he just follows numbly behind Combeferre as the doctor searches the crowd for someone. Vaguely, Courf wonders how one could go from being so elated to however he’s feeling right now in a matter of minutes.

He realizes that Combeferre is handing him off to Bahorel, who is sober, to take him home, like he can’t even bear to be in a car with him right now

As the guide goes to leave, sheparding Bossuet, Joly, and Jehan with well practiced skill, he glances back apologetically at Courf, and mouthes something that Courf can’t decipher amid the flashing lights.

When Bahorel gets him home and Marius brings him some water while he lies in bed, Courfeyrac can hardly drink it, too preoccupied trying to figure out everything that happened, and he drifts off to sleep. 

Courfeyrac wakes up with a headache, but he doesn’t think it’s from the hangover. He can practically feel Combeferre overthinking whatever happened last night, even from blocks away, and it pains him. He knows his best friend, and he can tell that he’s suffering.

He doesn’t even bother to change his clothes from last night, leaving a note for Marius and then practically running to Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment.

He raps insistently at the door, and he’s about to start yelling when Enjolras answers, coffee in hand, golden hair askew. 

“What happened last night? Combeferre came in all in a flurry, totally interrupted my studying, and said something about you- being drunk, him taking advantage of you? He hasn’t left his room all morning!” Enjolras demanded an explanation, blocking the doorway. 

“Oh no, Enj, please let me through, I’ve got to talk to him, please,” he begged, making a pouty face before Enjolras sighed, moving to let him by. “You owe me an explanation and an energy drink,” the leader grumbled as Courf ran past him, knocking on Ferre’s bedroom door. 

It opens and Ferre looks horrible, as though he hadn’t slept all night. Enjolras, as tired as he is himself, stands and tenses immediately, about to walk over, but he pauses when he sees Courf wrap Combeferre into a hug. 

Ferre hugs back hesitantly, before saying, “Courf, listen, I don’t think-”

“Good. Stop thinking. Please, you’re driving me insane. Just let yourself- let us- have this. I’m begging you.” Courf pulls away just enough to grab him by the back of his head and kiss him insistently, and Ferre only resists for a moment before kissing back. 

Enjolras nearly spits out his coffee. “You- I-”

Courfeyrac can’t even hear him, too busy grinning up at Combeferre who is smiling nervously, and a blush, a blush!, Courfeyrac thinks with giddiness, is spreading across Ferre’s face. 

“Um- Sorry Enj-” the doctor starts sheepishly, and he’s stuttering, flustered, and Courfeyrac’s heart just about bursts. 

“I’m not!” Courf shouts excitedly, kissing Combeferre again, and pushing him back into his bedroom. 

Enjolras sighs, hiding his fond smile with his coffee mug and mumbling, “I’ve got to call Feuilly.” 

Later, with satisfaction, Courfeyrac thought that he really could get anyone to fluster, but he didn’t think he’d ever need to see it from anyone other than Ferre ever again. 

[the-butter-churner]

Courferre headcannons?

OF COURSE!! I was wondering if anybody was gonna ask me for these because I will dole them out WHENEVER I can:

Before they started dating-

Courfeyrac got drunk a lot at parties. He was probably the heaviest drinker next to Baz and R. Unfortunately, he’s also the biggest lightweight. Combeferre was elected Courf’s designated driver because he was the only one Courf would actually listen to when he said it was time to come home.

Little did they know that Courf wasn’t as out of it as they thought. He just acted that way so ‘Ferre would tuck him in and give him cuddles until he fell asleep

And little did they know that even when he was grumbling about Courf’s irresponsibility, he secretly enjoyed the fact that Courf wold curl up in his lap, and the fact that he could press kisses to Courf’s forehead and they would mean everything and nothing at the same time.

Combeferre was the rock of Les Amis, he kept them alert and vigilant. Ergo, no one actually knew how stressed he could get. None of them knew how hard he worked himself, and how much he’d beat himself up if he missed a deadline. When Courfeyrac was sleeping over for the first time, he heard ‘Ferre murmuring things like ‘you can sleep when you’re dead’. He was clearly fighting to stay awake and his cheeks were tear-streaked. So Courf did what any teen-pining-over-his-best friend would do. He wrapped his arms around ‘Ferre’s neck and dragged him to bed. Combeferre ended up sobbing into Courf’s shoulder, each time mumbling “I’m sorry, I’m sorry”

Courf promptly moved in with the med student the very next week, just to make sure that it never got this bad again.

Combeferre has definitely tried to flirt with Courfeyrac with science jokes. “If I’m water, you’re potassium according to my heart.”

Courfeyrac never got it.

Courf on the other hand definitely tried to tip ‘Ferre off like: “SO ‘Ferre, there’s this really cute boy that I’m trying to ask out. He’s tall, dark-skinned, and has these adorable glasses. What do you think I should do?”

Combeferre never got it. In fact, it broke his heart a little bit each time because he knew he fit those descriptions, but he’d never be good enough for his best friend.

Eventually the rest of their friends got sick of the incessant mutual pining and they all teamed up to get the two dorks together. They figured the only thing that would work was something super cliche, so they locked the two of them in a janitor’s closet at the local planetarium and hoped that they would work it out.

They didn’t.

It turns out the two of them were just ready to burst anyway. One night after ‘Ferre got home to their tiny apartment Courf couldn’t take it anymore and pressed a quick kiss to ‘Ferre’s lips, shutting his eyes tight so he couldn’t see his best friend’s reaction. In doing so he actually ended up missing his lips entirely.

Luckily ‘Ferre got the message and promptly took Courf’s face in his hands to connect their lips for the first time.

After they started dating:

‘Ferre is an early bird whereas Courf is such a night owl so when the med student wakes up, he always kisses Courf awake whenever his boyfriend is running late.

Half the time Courf isn’t even asleep, he just likes getting kisses.

Whenever they’re bored, they plan their wedding. Seriously. They can’t imagine spending their life with anyone else, so they’ve already jumped the gun.

Courfeyrac definitely wants Combeferre to do the macarena for him as their first wedding dance.

‘Ferre will happily oblige.

‘Ferre is whipped as fuck. If Courf texts him that he needs something, he will race home like the devil and bring his boyfriend ice cream as well as an endless supply of cuddles and kisses.

Courfeyrac definitely plays sick with his boyfriend just to get free kisses and he can just marvel at how lucky he is for a whole day.

‘Ferre knows he’s faking the entire time, but he thinks it’s so adorable so he doesn’t say anything.

They are literally the most domestic Les Amis couple. On their anniversary, they just stay home and lock the doors and shut off their phones so that they are only allowed to spend time with each other.

I hope these were to your liking, they were really fun to write down. I think you can tell that courferre is my OTP :)

Thanks for the ask! Love ya!

[bossuet-lesgle]

it’s still star wars day in at least three time zones, so here’s some courferre flavored star wars au for your consideration:

It’s supposed to be a routine supply run. Red Squadron has been sent for a quick trip over to Crait and then back, no more than a few hours. Enjolras is taking his shift in the Command Center, watching intently as the holographic ships make their way through space. The pilots are chattering over their comms, Courfeyrac’s voice bursting in and out as he jokes with his squad.

Enjolras looks us as the door opens with a soft shush, and Combeferre steps through. Enjolras knows he went off-shift hours ago and should be resting, but Combeferre settles himself down beside Enjolras. He clearly hasn’t slept, but not, apparently, for lack of trying. His glasses are askew, his hair puffing out slightly at the back. Enjolras doesn’t have to say anything for Combeferre to shrug, looking sheepish.

“I couldn’t quiet my mind. Figured I’d come be useful instead.”

Enjolras sighs but doesn’t try to argue. If Combeferre isn’t going to sleep, then watching Red Squadron blip across the screen is as restful an activity as any. Enjorlas knows he gets like this with Grantaire – hates for him to be offworld and in danger, no matter how necessary. (Not that Combeferre would ever admit to Courfeyrac that he cares for him in this way, but in Enjolras’ professional opinion as their best friend, Courfeyrac would have to be blind not to see it. Must be blind, actually, and Combeferre must be too, for all the lingering glances and shy grins. Somehow, they’ve fallen in love with each other and are the last people in the entire Rebellion to notice). The mission is easy, it’s something they’ve done countless times, but Combeferre knows that. So Enjolras won’t offer that kind of logic. He can, however, offer a distraction.

“Well,” Enjolras says as he pulls a datapad over. “I actually wanted to ask you about one of these maneuvers.”

They discuss tactics for a bit, mapping routes and scanning formations for any weaknesses. They’ve had some reprieve while on Hoth, but it is foolish to think the Empire isn’t right around the corner.

Courfeyrac’s voice crackles through the comms. “Red Leader to base. We’ve got the supplies and are heading back.”

“Excellent, Red Leader,” Combeferre answers before Enjolras gets the chance. “We’ll expect you in 0200 hours.”

“Is that Combeferre? Ferre, you’re not on shift, go to bed.”

“Just focus on flying, alright?” Combeferre shoots back, but there’s warmth in his voice.

“Yeah, Courfeyrac,” Bossuet cuts in, laughing. “Focus on your flying.”

“Whatever, Red Four,” Courfeyrac grumbles. “Alright, we’re en route. See you in 0200.”

Enjolras confirms, and then he and Combeferre turn back to their work. Combeferre’s shoulders have lost some of their tension, but his eyes dart to the holos every so often, assuring himself that Red Squadron is still somewhere out there in the black.

They’ve come out of hyperspace just past Sullust when Enjolras notices the small red blip on the edge of the map. In the time it takes for him to press his comm, four more have appeared, moving steadily toward Red Squadron.

“Echo Base to Red Leader,” Enjolras says, “you’ve got incoming.”

“Kriff. Yeah we do.” Courfeyrac mutters before he begins shouting orders.

The shrill twang of a blaster sounds through the comm and the ships disperse. This is always the worst part for Enjolras. He’s not a starfighter, so any aerial combats are out of his control. He has to trust Courfeyrac to lead his squadron – and he does, he trusts Courfeyrac with his life – but it’s hard. From the tense set of Combeferre’s shoulders, Enjorlas knows that he feels just as helpless.

Courfeyrac is good at what he does – he wouldn’t be a commander in the Alliance if he wasn’t. Enjolras watches the holo ships move, hears the shouting and the blasters. Within seconds, Courfeyrac is able to reconfigure the squadron, protecting the supplies and engaging the enemy fighters. The supply freighters make the second jump to hyperspace, one by one until all that’s left are a handful of X-wings.

It looks like they’re all going to make it when there’s a crash, a small explosion, and Courfeyrac lets out a string of curses. On the map, his ship is flashing as it lists toward Sullust below.

“Red Leader, status report,” Enjolras barks into the comm.

Courfeyrac ignores him completely, keeps calling out orders to his squadron. Enjolras tries to call to Courfeyrac again, and then watches a light on his comm blink out as Courfeyrac mutes his end of their connection. There are protests from the pilots as Courfeyrac orders them into hyperspace. The supplies are safe, and there’s no need to risk losing anyone. The else goes unspoken. One by one, the rebel ships blink into hyperspace until only Courfeyrac and Bossuet are left.

“Red Leader, what’s your damage?”

“ Make the jump, Red Four.”

“How bad is your ship?”

“You’ve got three Ties on your six, Red Four, go to hyperspace!”

“Courfeyrac, I’m not going to leave – ”

“You need to go, Bossuet. My engines are kriffing fried. I’m going to try to land but I need you to get back to base. Please.”

Bossuet is silent for a moment as he weaves between Tie fighters, but he can hear the slight edge of desperation in Courfeyrac’s voice just as clearly as Enjolras and Combeferre can. He mutters an affirmative, a stay safe, Courf, before jumping to hyperspace. Enjolras watches his ship blip off the map, and then Courfeyrac is alone with five enemy ships.  The comm light blinks back on.

“Courfeyrac, what’s your status?” Combeferre asks softly.

“Oh, you know. Just another day.” Courfeyrac laughs but it’s strained as he weaves through the Ties, trying to reach the surface of Sullust.

“Send us your coordinates when you get somewhere safe on Sullust,” Enjolras says.

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to get stuck down there.” Another explosion sounds, much louder this time, and Courfeyrac lets out a pained gasp.

“Status, Courfeyrac!” Combeferre calls as he and Enjolras watch the X-wing hurtle toward Sullust. There is silence for a few tense moments.

When Courfeyrac speaks, it’s pained. “I need to tell you something.” Another explosion, a hideous crunching noise. “Combeferre, specifically. Not that I don’t value you as well, Enjolras. I have plenty of things I’d like to tell you too, but this is important. Ferre, you need to know I – ”

There’s a horrific noise of metal rending, a litany of colorful curses from Courfeyrac, a muted grunt of pain, and then nothing. Courfeyrac’s ship blinks off the map entirely. Enjolras stares down as the swarm of Tie fighters disperses and can’t quite catch his breath. Beside him, Combeferre is shaking. Enjolras presses against him, sits beside him and breathes with him. It’s all he can do.

*

It takes ten hours to find the wreckage of Courfeyrac’s X-wing. Enjolras and Combeferre are both part of the search team, are the first out of their shuttles to start looking. The hull of the ship is twisted, his astromech crushed completely, and the engines have all been blown out. The cockpit is a crumpled mess, but Courfeyrac isn’t in it. They find him two miles away, tucked into an alcove between buildings. He’s barely conscious, but he blinks up as Enjolras approaches.

“Took you guys long enough,” he laughs, and there’s blood in his teeth. There’s blood most places, actually, and his eyes are glassy and his leg is definitely broken, and probably his ribs too, but he’s alive. Enjolras kneels next to him and breathes properly for the first time since the Ties appeared on the map. He raises his comm to his lips and calls Combeferre.

*

Courfeyrac spends several days in a bacta tank as the worst of his wounds heal. Then, he spends another few days sleeping. Enjolras stays with him when he can, but there’s still an Alliance to run, a war to win. He and Combeferre spend time at Courfeyrac’s bedside, ensuring that someone will be there when he wakes.

Enjolras finishes his shift and makes his way to medical. As he approaches the open door, he hears laughter. Combeferre’s. And Courfeyrac’s. Enjolras stops in the doorway. Courfeyrac is sitting up, grinning at Combeferre. Bruises are still smudged across his face, but he looks healthier than he has in days. Combeferre does too – the drawn, anxious expression that has haunted his face replaced by a soft, warm gaze.

“So,” Combeferre begins tentatively. “I’ve bee wondering.”

Courfeyrac studies him curiously. “Wondering what?”

“What were you going to tell me? Before you went down.”

Courfeyrac’s cheeks color and he ducks his head. “Sorry,” he mutters. “A dying confession wasn’t really how I wanted to say it, but desperate times, you know?”

“Say what?”

Courfeyrac squeezes his eyes shut and takes a breath. He reaches over and tangles his fingers with Combeferre’s. “That I love you?”

Combeferre smiles and pulls Courfeyrac into a gentle kiss. Enjolras turns to go, to tell General Lamarque that Combeferre will likely be taking some time off, and is startled by a loud whistle directly behind him. Courfeyrac pulls away from Combeferre only slightly, raising an eyebrow at Grantaire.

“Glad you finally worked it all out,” Grantaire laughs, slinging an arm over Enjolras’ shoulders.

“Me too,” Combeferre says softly, fondly.

Courfeyrac shoos them away, and Enjolras shuts the door with a chuckle. Grantaire clasps his hand and pulls him down the corridor toward the hanger. He’s made some upgrades to the Farouche, he says. Mostly to the ship’s liquor cabinet. Mostly through the acquisition of a pretty nice bottle of Corellian whiskey he won off Bahorel in a game of sabacc. Enjolras allows himself to be pulled along and thinks that the Empire doesn’t stand a chance. Not really. Not when the rebels have each other. Not when they have things worth fighting for.

[ferretrade]

Courferre Soulbond Part 23! (Previous part: here, or start from the beginning)

**Courf is 18, Ferre is 20. 

Courfeyrac expects to take to college life like a fish to water. He doesn’t.

“You don’t mind me being here, right?” he asks, for maybe the hundredth time. Combeferre is making him lunch while he stares a little uselessly at his textbook.

It’s not that there aren’t plenty of things and people he likes, but… there’s something overwhelming about college. All at once, everything is different and it feels like he’s been dropped in the middle of the story without having read the beginning. He gets lost three times trying to navigate his way to campus; everyone in his classes seem to already know each other; even laundry is way more difficult than he thought. He tries to remind himself it’s only been two weeks and it will get better.

“Of course not,” Combeferre smiles from his place at the tiny, shitty stove. Courfeyrac hadn’t known a stove could be so temperamental or incapable of heating water. “You’re welcome whenever.”

It’s a nice answer, but one that lacks any real power for Courfeyrac. He certainly hasn’t been invited to spend the night or, uh, spend the night. And Eponine has given some loud, mostly joking, complaints about grocery costs when Courfeyrac was around for dinner three days in a row. But it’s hard not to cling to Combeferre.

Really, it’s hard not to cling to Combeferre or Enjolras. Clinging to them makes it easier to avoid the unknown and how left out he feels—but neither of them seems to need him as much. Combeferre has two years of college under his belt already, with plenty of friends to account for and his own studies to focus on, and Enjolras is thriving on his own at his university across town. In fact, half the reason he’s spent so much time at Combeferre’s is because Enjolras has been out doing study groups or whatever most of the week.

“If you say so,” Courfeyrac says with a bit of a smile and a shrug. “You can kick me out if you have to get work done, though,” he adds earnestly. “But your apartment is closer to campus than mine and I have to head back later.” That and he hated to eat lunch alone.

“I see how it is. You care more about the apartment than me,” Combeferre jokes dryly, and Courfeyrac gives him a more genuine smile.

“Yep. It’s got built-in bookshelves, babe. That’s what I’m here for.”

Combeferre hums. “They are really nice shelves.”

Courfeyrac laughs, feeling a little more relaxed. “See, now I’m worried that you love those shelves more than me.”

Combeferre moves around the breakfast bar, setting a bowl of pasta in front of Courfeyrac and a kiss on his cheek. “It’s a tie.”

Courfeyrac shoves him gently when he sits down, still grinning.

“So,” he starts after a moment of quietly shoveling pasta in his mouth and making vaguely inappropriate noises of approval. “Are you busy tonight? I was thinking we could do, like, a real date. I bet I could get Enjolras to stay out of the apartment for a while.” He pairs the suggestion with his most charming look.

“Oh, I figured you would be going to that freshman mixer tonight—I made dinner plans with Joly and Jehan.”

Courfeyrac forces a smile. “Right, I forgot that the mixer was tonight.” He didn’t. A girl in his history class had talked about it with him, but had fallen short of actually inviting him along and he hates the idea of going alone. He can imagine awkwardly watching groups of friends he doesn’t belong to until he finally gives up and leaves. “Maybe tomorrow, then,” Courfeyrac adds, stabbing his pasta with more force than necessary. Enjolras might be around, at least, but Courfeyrac isn’t going to hold his breath.

(Enjolras isn’t around and Courfeyrac spends the night alone with Netflix.  It’s becoming a habit.)

**

A week later, Courfeyrac comes home to find both Enjolras and Combeferre sitting on the couch. This isn’t exactly an oddity, except for the fact that they go quiet and stare at him as he walks in.

“Uh, hey guys.” He’s feeling tired and can only hope that there’s not something weird going on.

“Hey Courf,” Enjolras says first.

Combeferre follows with, “How was your day?”

Courfeyrac tries not to grimace. Honestly, he’d rather forget about his day and the quiz he didn’t study for and the new book he needs to read for Thursday. “Fine.”

Combeferre and Enjolras exchange a look and Courfeyrac knows something is up.

“What?” he asks.

Combeferre gives what is objectively his most charming smile and subjectively the most charming, swoon-inducing smile in the whole world. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Slightly reluctant, Courfeyrac drops his bag and moves to the arm chair beside them. “What?” he repeats.

“We want to make sure you’re doing okay,” Enjolras says, always quick to the point.

“That is, you’ve been a little… distant this past week. And you’ve seemed kind-of upset,” Combeferre adds. The concerned wrinkled on his forehead is unreasonably cute.

“I’m not,” Courfeyrac lies.

Enjolras gives him a look. “Two days ago you said you were hanging out with friends and I saw you sitting alone in a coffee shop.”

Well that is… less than ideal. He’d only said that in the first place because Enjolras was going out and Combeferre had a late class and it seemed pathetic to say he was staying in alone for the fourth day in a row. “So?” Courfeyrac tries to shrug it off.

“Did you make up plans to avoid us?” Enjolras persists.

“Avoid you.” Courfeyrac stares at them blankly for a moment. “You had class and you had plans with other friends! How is that avoiding you? I’d spend all my free time with you two if you guys didn’t do so much all the time.”

Courfeyrac can tell that he’s said too much by the look on Combeferre’s face that he gets when a math problem or something finally clicks into place.

“Fey… have you not been making other friends?” he asks softly, and Courfeyrac hates that he manages to sound non-judgmental.

He plays with the hem of his shirt. “I mean, I know people. But… not like you.”

“Then why did you lie?”

Combeferre shoots Enjolras a look that seems to say shut up and Courfeyrac is glad that he doesn’t have to explain how pathetic he feels. He’s supposed to be the outgoing one, after all. And he is! “You don’t have to make up plans, Fey. I shouldn’t have been making assumptions—I should have been including you more.”

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to,” Combeferre interrupts firmly. “My friends all know you and love you—they’d love to have you along. It was stupid of me to not offer. I just thought you’d want to do your own thing at first and not spend so much time with me.”

“And you can come with me to study groups or clubs. I told you you’d like the sustainability club.”

“I don’t go to your school, Enjolras.”

Enjolras gives him a fierce look that suggests he’ll take care of anyone who thinks that’s a problem. “So what?”

Courfeyrac smiles softly. “Thanks. Both of you.”

“And you know you can talk to us about anything, right?” Combeferre says. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide anything.”

Courfeyrac nods slightly. “You guys just seemed so happy. And I… everything’s so different here, I feel behind.”

“I didn’t fit in here overnight, Fey,” Combeferre adjusts his glasses in that way Courfeyrac knows is self-consciousness. “The only difference was that I had Joly to not fit in with. But you have us.”

He has to admit, it does feel like a relief to admit how he feels. “Okay, okay, I get it. Now tell me you made dinner for this little intervention party because I’m starving.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes fondly and Combeferre smiles and something seems to settle a little more into place.

**

Probably unsurprisingly, things get easier with support from his friends. Enjolras helps him carve out time to study and make a calendar. Combeferre invites him to activities and hangouts until he’s part of the group and making individual plans with Joly and Jehan and Eponine. But he still feels a little bit adrift sometimes.

“Uh, excuse me? Is that seat taken?”

Courfeyrac blinks, looking up at the lanky boy standing beside his lab table. “No, it’s free.”

The boy smiles with relief, sitting down beside him, but the relief quickly fades. “Oh, that is—you don’t mind me sitting here, right?”

Courfeyrac grins, feeling an immediate warmth and fondness for this boy who’s as jumpy as a baby deer. He looks as lost as Courfeyrac sometimes feels. “No, of course not,” he assures. “I’m Courfeyrac, by the way.”

“Marius Pontmercy.”

And maybe this is what he needs: someone to not fit in with.

(Next part: here)

[the-butter-churner]

combeferre?

Whoops sorry this is kinda late lmao

Sexuality: Gay or just queer tbh.

Gender: Cis male.

SHIPPY SHIP: Okay if you've looked at my blog for more than two seconds you already know what's coming up... COURFERRE 🙃 (will I apologize? Never.)

BROTP: Okay can we please talk about the AMAZING dynamic between Ferre and Enj?? Combeferre is like... The mom friend and the dad friend all rolled into one and without him there really wouldn't be an Enjolras. So... Yeah.

NOTP: Combeferre/Eponine... I'M SORRY OKAY... I get it, it would actually work really well... I just don't ship it...

Personal headcanon: Combeferre is the one who actually plans the rallies and the protests. He likes to joke that while Enjolras stands on the soap box, he actually builds the soap box. He also tends to overwork himself and only Courfeyrac really knows how to handle it when he's really stressed.

General opinion: WE. NEED. MORE. FERRE. APPRECIATION. He is the BACKBONE of Les Amis and we need to appreciate him. I love my moth boy so much 🥺