My body aches for you; Enjolras&Grantaire; closed

There was a protest in two weeks and Enjolras had thrown himself into preparations earlier and harder than usual. He needed to not think. He cursed every fibre of his being for noticing Grantaire’s disappearance from the meetings the last two days - and how he had been before that time. He hated his brain for knowing exactly why. And most of all, he despised the dull ache his body felt every second he didn’t go to the man. 

Enjolras simply did not have the time to be bonded, or to have a mate, or to take a week out to deal with his omega’s heats every other month. He sighed and rested his head on his desk for a moment before getting up and getting coffee, intent on taking a break. 

drunken-cynic asked:

Combeferre’s first instinct was to wrap Grantaire in his arms, to try and protect him from whatever had him so upset, but he knew that wasn’t right, that touching him now could make this worse, so instead he only sat near him. “I’m here, Grantaire,” he said gently. “You’re going to be okay. I need you to concentrate on me and try and calm your breathing, okay, ange? Can you do that for me?”


Anne did not mind visitors, not one bit. In fact, they brought her entertainment, and life to this part of Hever when she did not have her sister Mary or brother George to turn to. Sure, she would be better suited at Court, but unfortunately, that was not an option right now.

“Yes? Has my father sent you with a message from court?” She asked, hopeful. Perhaps she had been forgiven!

Counting Stars; alpha/omega verse; Enjolras&Grantaire

Enjolras was sulking on the train. This was normally a journey an omega would make alone, trusted they would turn up on their alpha’s doorstep as instructed and ‘learn to love them’ from that point on. Enjolras had his mother, his father, and two of his father’s servants there - to ensure Enjolras completed his journey and arrived at his correct destination. His mother to pacify him, his father to stand his ground and push, and his servants in case force was necessary.

The blonde was barely turned 16, and he despised this system. He’d scoffed when he’d been told he should feel lucky. The longer an omega was left unwed, the more likely they would remain unwed forever. Enjolras had only turned sixteen a week ago - it felt a lot longer, and he was already on his train to the rest of his life. He stared out the window and ignored everyone the whole way, including his mother and her helpful 'advice’ on how to 'please his alpha’.

drunken-cynic asked:

Grantaire burst into Combeferre's office and fell onto his sofa dramatically. "Oh woe is me, for I have lost my muse. Please my dear 'Ferre. Generous lover of mine. Inspire me with your actions and words."

Combeferre’s lips quirked at the dramatic entrance and pronouncement. He put down the patient chart he had been reading, unable to resist his boyfriend’s presence even in the face of work that needed doing, and moved to kneel beside the sofa. “Inspire you, eh? What would you have me do?”

drunken-cynic asked:

((Aphrodisiac)) "You have no idea how much I want to." Grantaire whispered licking his lips as he held Enjolras at arms length. "Really no idea. But I can't take advantage of you like that. It's not right."

Enjolras’ eyes were blown wide, and he whined, a completely undignified sound that he would never be caught making when he was fully in control. The blond reached for Grantaire, trying to pull him in. “Why not?” He asked.


Glancing over at Grantaire brought a certain uneasiness to Combeferre as they waited in his and Enjolras’s apartment for the man to come home. It was an odd agreement they had, for them both to be seeing Enjolras and indeed for Grantaire to decide to wait for him here knowing that Combeferre would be here too but this was not the first time they had been in this situation. “Would you like a drink, Grantaire?” He asked after a painfully long silence, turning to look at the man next to him on the couch.

What A Cliché || closed

Combeferre was the only one who’d been available, since he didn’t have to work that night, to help Grantaire with their new fliers. They really should have planned better, it was far too many for them to do on their own. But there he was, knocking on the other man’s door before putting his hands in his pockets, smiling in greeting when it opened. “Hello,” he greeted, stepping inside gratefully, “Shall we get started then?”

drunken-cynic asked:

"Mademoiselle Musichetta. Allow me to play you a song." Grantaire said as he brought his violin to his shoulder and started playing a soft sweet melody.

Chetta grinned and rested her head in her hands. “You’re brilliant. Talented on so many levels, monsieur.”

 drunken-cynic said: wanna make an irl les Amis? We can take over…bagsie health minister :P (if/when we do)

YES. Shhh careful tho this kind of talk will you get you arrested in Britain these days.

I’d love to take minister for education - I think I could do a lot of work there

But then I’d also be very suited to a leadership role and I think I’d like to oversee the changes and things


The wedding had been spectacular. Thomas Boleyn pulled out all the stops to ensure the daughter that was once believed to be ill-favored was absolutely showered in love and courtly glamored for her marriage. Nobody seemed to question how Anne happened upon the young man Grantaire, nor how long she had known him for. Those things didn’t matter to the court, and Anne was a crafty liar, coming up with stories of chaste love and tokens of affection that she wasn’t sure were actually there but..they made for a better story.

Everything true about the relationship was more than it seemed. Anne did not wish to be lonely in life, and found companionship in Grantaire that she did not find elsewhere. She was nineteen, she could not be unmarried for much longer without question. He was in love with a man. Nothing of that sort was acceptable in court. Their goals did not exactly meet up, but when Anne proposed the arrangement, how could he say no?

Anne looked beautiful. Her dress was emerald green, cut with jewels and gems only people like the Boleyns could afford. She danced and danced with anyone who asked, drank wine, and was generally merry. And she had a reason to be, did she not? She was no longer the ill favored daughter. The odds were now in her favor.