i mean look at enjolras's face

just-french-me-up  asked:

Yes but hear me out friend... Salty fashion blogger Parnasse... Who literally has the best "dead-sharp-he-ran-into-my-knife-ten-times" comebacks... doing collabs with beauty vlogger Grantaire....

HONESTLY??? YES??

  • grantaire does his makeup for him whenever possible bc hes got a Good Face for makeup, i mean those cheekbones tho??
  • in return mont makes him go shopping and dresses him and. these videos are the only times you will see him in a suit. 
  • “im going to burn all of your flannels” “you will not do that??”
  • those videos are just. snark central. the sarcasm never stops, its hilarious
  • one time they teamed up, mont dressed enjolras and grantaire did his makeup. he looked killer n grantaire was swooning for days.
  • whenever he does mont’s makeup he always promises he’s going to keep it dark and menacing but he never does
  • he works best with bright colours and montparnasse is no exception okay
  • everyone needs some neon yellow eyeshadow now and again
  • and even if he doesn’t like it, he tolerates it because jehan will definitely like it, and that makes it worth it
Five Times Enjolras Almost Proposed to Grantaire, and Twice He Did

@ionlyrunfromshameyour wish is my command. Established ExR, Modern AU, fluffy as fluffy can be.

Grantaire bounced on the balls of his feet, barely able to contain his excitement as the line into the Louvre inched forward. “So I know I’ve said it like a bajillion times, but I really appreciate you coming here with me.”

“It’s not like it’s a hardship for me to spend time with you on our vacation to Paris,” Enjolras said, amused. “I may not be as into art as you, but there’s some great pieces in the Louvre – Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People; Meissonier’s The Barricade, rue de la Mortellerie, June 1848; Vien’s The Triumph of the Republic…I could go on.”

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Grantaire looped his arm through Enjolras’s and leaned his head against his shoulder. “Naturally, I should have guessed where your interest would lie. Just promise me you’re not going to pull a Bastille reaction and start crying.”

Enjolras scowled at him. “Look, it was our first night in Paris, I had had a bit too much wine at your insistence, I would remind you, and it’s an emotional part of history.”

Keep reading

I wrote something else!! I feel alive again. I thought I’d share it on here but it’s posted on my ao3


Grantaire was little more than a myth to Enjolras. Almost all of his friends knew him.

Bahorel met him during a bar fight; Jehan met him at a poetry reading; Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta had been friends with him since high school; and Feuilly worked at a candle store with him for a while.

The point is, Grantaire had started to intrude on Enjolras’ life a long time ago, and he was constantly hearing stories of his escapades (punching a cop in the face for harassing Jehan and then actually escaping the police, accidentally acquiring a sugar daddy and using his money to pay for pole-dancing lessons, living in a random frat house for two weeks before anyone realized).

It didn’t exactly paint a portrait of what to expect when Enjolras first meets him. To Enjolras, although he’s erratic, Grantaire seems to be a person worth being friends with, if the way Jehan’s eyes like up when they speak of him is anything to go by.

Bahorel’s shouting them all drinks at the Corinth because he finally gave up on law and decided to pursue his dreams of being a chef, and when Enjolras hears that Grantaire will be there he decides to finally sate his curiosity.

There’s a large uproar, mainly Bahorel’s booming voice, when Enjolras and Combeferre walk in, and Enjolras gives his friends a polite smile. There’s people he doesn’t know - a girl with dark hair and hungry eyes, a man wearing inappropriately-fashionable clothes and a coldly happy expression, and another man, drinking from a bottle and talking with Feuilly, his cheeks and ears red from the warmth of the bar, his black hair curly.

“That must be Grantaire,” Combeferre points out mildly as they near their friends.

“I’m going to introduce myself,” Enjolras announces, watching and trying to match the man to the legend. He’s certainly lively, laughing joyously at whatever Feuilly says.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

exr urban fantasy au?

(I also got an E/R “Faery AU” prompt from an anon, so I’m rolling these up into one!)

“You saved my life,” says the strange man into the sudden silence. “I owe you a debt.”

Enjolras shakes his head immediately. “You owe me nothing. I’m only glad that I was here to get you out of the way in time.”

The man steps out of the shadows, and suddenly he looks much less human. “I owe you a debt,” he says again, and this time Enjolras knows what it means, and knows to his bones what the terror on the man’s face means. “You can call me R to my face, but if you need me, if you want me to pay the debt, call for Grantaire.”

WIP - Snowballs and Sheer Luck (Lin-Manuel x Reader)

Summary: You got hit with a snowball out of the blue and universal law states that you must return fire

Word Count: 1,420

Warnings: Language.

A/N: I wrote this ages ago (during that one snowstorm, this was actually the original snowfic I wrote) and then abandoned it. But here’s an abandoned fic for everyone who was so kind and so understanding about me being MIA.
_____________________________

“Fuck you, man! I have to meet with Sherry and Greg still. Some of us have to be responsible adults!” Tommy laughed at Lin who had insisted on tagging along as Tommy walked to this meeting. He also insisted on detouring through the park to appreciate the large patches of untouched snow and Tommy was always one to oblige his more romantic-minded friend.

It was always a given to budget more time than usual when Lin tagged along on commutes, but the snow made it ten times worse. Lin had decided that his source of entertainment during their journey was to launch snowballs at Tommy, making himself burst into a fit of laughter every time one met his target. When Tommy had agreed to let Lin join him on his trek through the snowy city he had also accepted the possibility that he would not reach the meeting with his clothes as dry as when he left for it. But that did not mean that he appreciated Lin’s attack.

“You’re gonna be late anyways, might as well let me have my fun” Lin’s laughter rang through the park before he bent down to pack another snowball - this one larger than all the others.

Keep reading

An excerpt from a longer Enjoltaire “get together” slash “Enj has anxiety” fic that will probably never see the light of day

⚠️: Panic attack

Enjolras presses the tip of his tongue against his teeth and counts - 1 2 3 in, 1 2 3 4 hold, 1 2 3 4 5 out. And repeat. And repeat. And repeat. And -

“Are you okay?”

Enjolras jolts his head up. Is he okay? Enjolras wants to snort.

Oh sure. Fine. Just - losing his mind on the subway but he’s fine. 1 2 3 in. Everything will be okay. 1 2 3 4 hold -

“Hey,” the guy, the one who spoke before, moves closer. “Are you, uh. You look like you might pass out.”

Enjolras tries to focus. Green eyes and a frown, brown leather, and curls and - breathe Enjolras, you know how to breathe, it’s easy, in and out and in and out and

“Maybe you should sit down?” The guy says, like it’s a question.

“I should ..?” Enjolras breaks through the panic for a moment and realizes he’s hunched over, “Yeah, yes - okay.”

He sits heavily and tries to calm down. He can’t stop his breath from stuttering. He rips off his scarf, and his fingers scrape against his neck. Fuck, it’s hot. And loud.

The R train screeches through the tunnel, metal on metal, a high, shrill noise that cuts the air.

Enjolras flinches and a few people stare openly. His whole body must have jerked but he can’t tell, he’s never, fuck, he’s never had this happen underground before.

“Hey are you..having a panic attack?” The guys looms over him.

Enjolras nods tightly. Yes, he thinks, I’m having a panic attack. He’s having a panic attack and Combeferre is laying in the hospital and now he’s stuck on the subway, left trying to recycle stale air when he can barely unclench his teeth.

“Okay, that’s okay.” The guys says. “Do you know where you are?”

“Yes,” Enjolras grits out. He doesn’t want attention, he wants fresh air, and a cell signal. Fuck; what if someone tries to call him and they can’t get through. It’ll go straight to voicemail. What if there were complications and now Combeferre is - is - no, he can’t go there.

“Cool, that’s good” the guy sits next to Enjolras.

Enjolras takes a shuddering breath in and tries to hold it. Instead, he’s left with small gasps that scrape against the back of his throat.

“Can I touch you?”

Enjolras tenses - he doesn’t like being touched. But touch is what helps ground him, and some small scrap of logic left in him outweighs pride. Enjolras nods.

“I’m just going to take your hand, that cool?” Enjolras doesn’t respond but the guy must see some affirmation because he takes Enjolras’ arm and guides a hand to his chest. “Cool, that’s great, can you try to match your breath to mine?”

The guy takes a deep exaggerated breath in, and then exhales slowly. Enjolras tries to match. They sit together and the train inches along.

A few stops go by and Enjolras can finally breathe enough to feel the low ache of shame taking up space against his ribs.

“I’m okay now,” Enjolras says, and his voice is steadier than before.

“You’re shaking,” the guys says, but releases Enjolras’ hand.

“Adrenaline.”

“Yeah I know how that goes.”

They sit in silence. The train doors open, and a few people step in.

“Thank you,” Enjolras says, and meets a pair of vivid and searching eyes.

“Hey sure, glad I could help.” The guy glances at him, sidelong. “Are you…okay?”

“Yes,” Enjolras says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “they’ll stop shaking in a second.”

“I kind of meant - did something happen?”

Enjolras fidgets. He doesn’t know how to answer. What Enjolras can’t do, or at least, what Enjolras can’t do well, is talk about his feelings. He’d rather choke on anxiety than share it. On the best days, he can pack anxieties into a backpack, shoving guilt and grief deep inside. On the worst days, the weight of it all slumps his shoulders so much that his back might break.

“My best friend is in the hospital.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Enjolras nods once, and searches the guy’s face. There’s no pity there. His forehead is scrunched up and his lips pursed, he looks concerned - maybe a little confused. Enjolras’ shoulders drop.

“A taxi side-swiped his bike. He hit his head. They’re not sure..”

“Fuck. Fuck, man I’m sorry. Really.”

“Thanks,” Enjolras says. He means it.

They ride in silence for a little longer.

“My stops next,” the guy says.

“Thank you,” Enjolras gives the most genuine smile he can muster.

“I - uh. I’m Grantaire. By the way.”

“Enjolras.”

The train screeches loudly again and then shudders to a stop. Their knees brush and Grantaire stands up.

“Bye, I guess” he says. “Take care of yourself.”

He walks off just as the doors close.

Enjolras takes a deep breath. And then another, and another, and watches through the subway window stained with fingerprints as a head of dark, curly hair gets swallowed into the crowd.

It’s A Revolution, I Suppose

Requested by anon

Pairing: Enjolras x female!reader

Summary: No one usually pays you any attention when you’re in the shadow of your older sisters, but all that changes when you manage to slip away from them to listen to the young revolutionaries shouting in the square

Warnings: None?

A/N: I love this request! It’s slightly inspired by the Schuyler sisters, because the reader is a bit like Peggy (but there’re also some Angelica vibes there?). I called the reader’s sisters Adrienne and Colette by the way. Enjoy reading, and please leave feedback!

Originally posted by lieselcats

Keep reading

Okay so I talk a lot about Grantaire and trans boy Enjolras having a child but please take a moment to imagine -

- Their son with a mop of dark curls and Enjolras’ eyes being a force to be reckoned with because he has Enjolras’ temper and conviction but armed with the wit and sass of Grantaire. 

- Enjolras and Grantaire getting a phonecall from his confused teacher because ‘We asked the children to draw a picture of their family and there’s a LOT of people in this picture?’ because small citizen has included all of Les Amis. 

- Feuilly teaching him how to make paper fans and origami swans that end up being left everywhere around the house and the Musain and basically everywhere.

- Bahorel who, as the tallest member of Les Amis, lifts the little one onto his shoulders during meetings so he can watch his papa speechify even though he’s too young to understand what Enjolras is getting so riled up about.

- Jehan teaching him how to make flower crowns. It becomes mandatory for Les Amis to wear them during meetings. Enjolras manages, somehow, to look terrifying even with a badly made string of daisies in his hair.

- Enjolras being interrupted mid-speech by small hands grabbing at his pants to get his attention and being proudly presented with a drawing his son has made. Enjolras for once in his life dropping everything to praise him and kiss his forehead before firing right back into his rant with his son in his arms like nothing happened. 

- Enjolras coming home one day to find the kitchen is covered in paint. Grantaire is covered in paint. The child is covered in paint. ‘We made posters for your rally!’. Soon Enjolras is also covered in paint.

- Combeferre gets him one of those star projector things and he adores it and makes his parents leave it on for him every night when he goes to sleep.

- Courfeyrac hosting tea parties with him, in full princess regalia. Enjolras is outraged by the implication that his son is being taught to be sympathetic towards the concept of monarchy (He goes off on a rant about abuse of power that Courfeyrac and Small Citizen do not listen to as they are quite busy eating imaginary cake)

- Grantaire absolutely adoring his baby and proudly proclaiming that he was the best thing he’s ever made, joking that he’s his ‘masterpiece’. Grantaire slowly getting better at loving himself because this small child looks at him with so much awe, like he’s the greatest thing in the world, and it’s impossible not to believe it sometimes. 

- Marius and Cosette babysitting him. Cosette thinks he’s a darling and Marius is slightly intimidated by him because this small human has Enjolras’ genes and that’s terrifying and also oh god if he loses so much as a hair on his head I’ll have to face Enjolras’ wrath…small child think Marius is hilarious.

- Eponine who is the best babysitter ever as far as the child is concerned because she always sneaks around sweets (I mean nobody has to know she shoplifted them, she can’t exact afford luxuries) and sometimes her little brother comes over too and he’s so much fun…

- Joly being the baby’s favouite doctor to go to because he manages to make shots not scary because afterall ‘Joly was the gayest of them all’ 

- Joly, Chetta and Bossuet looking after him some days and having the best playdates known to man that always go a little awry because terrible luck manages to befall Bossuet, usually in harmless and comical ways. 

- Trans girl Chetta who helps Enjolras explain the gender thing to him, and proclaims herself fearsome mother bear to him should anyone ever give him any trouble. 

- E and R’s son growing up fully aware of the situation with Enjolras and being taught about gender at a young age. He gives a very serious speech about it in his class when he gets questions about why he doesn’t have a mother. 

@fixaidea Either Enjolras or Grantaire remembering the other’s birthday?

This prompt was offered when I was in a Space Mood, so this story randomly happens in space, for reasons. You can, if you wish, admit this happens in the same universe as the last two stories. 

The most surprising thing was to find Grantaire on the deck alone; it seemed to Enjolras that Grantaire was always in the midst of other people, on the edge or at the center of a group, mingling, laughing, talking. Seeing him standing on his own, quiet and staring quite literally at the universe expanding outside of the ship, felt almost wrong. Enjolras frowned but moved forward, taking long steps to reach Grantaire, who blinked several times when he finally noticed him, before grinning broadly. 

“Enjolras,” he said, his voice almost a song. “I feel suddenly blessed; Years of pouring luck out of Lesgles has finally paid off I see: no need to look up at stars anymore, though you are still annoyingly tall, like the rest of our crew; Courfeyrac and Joly alone were nice enough to grow up a normal size, we should all spend more time being thankful to them; ha, I’ll buy them a drink tonight. Dare I ask why you are here? It’s very rare to see you alone these days. And nothing I remember has warranted a conversation between us, which makes me very curious about what you have to say; cause surely you didn’t came here without a purpose: that particularly brand of walking belongs to people like me. So..?”

The thought that they’d had the same reflexion about one another made Enjolras raise an eyebrow, but he didn’t speak of it. Instead, he merely said: 

“Happy birthday.”

Keep reading

Evermore: An Enjonine One-Shot

“They will come when we call!” came the cheers from Les Amis de L'ABC. The announcement of Lamarque’s death still played in Enjolras’s head. The leader of these schoolboys, although sadden by the loss of their great leader, used Lamarque’s death as a way to rally the French people to rebel against the King. One more day before the storm.

Enjolras noticed his friend Marius was still in awe about the woman he bumped into earlier. “Oh Enjolras! If you had been there tonight you might know how it feel to be struck to the bone in a moment of breathless delight! Oh, have you been there tonight you might also have known about how your world may be changed by just one burst of light! How everything that was right seems wrong, and everything that’s wrong seems right!” Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Marius, we don’t have time for women! We don’t have time for love! What matters is what’s in front…” he stopped mid-sentence. There she was. Eponine. She made her way up the stairs, her head peering over the rail.

Enjolras had never been in love. He never understood what made his friends go into a state of euphoria when a woman was around. Women meant nothing to him. He just had no interest. All that mattered was the revolution.

When Eponine came into the cafe for the first time, he didn’t give her a second thought. She just hung around Marius, watching him with such care, such affection, such love. At rallies, she tagged along like a baby duckling following its mother. She asked Marius many questions about the cause, as if she had an interest. She probably didn’t. She was probably too engrossed in the attention Marius gave her. Women Enjolras scoffed.

As days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months, Enjolras bean to get accustomed to her presence at the meetings. But for some reason, he began to feel strange. He would feel nauseous. His heart would race and beat hard, as if it was trying to escape his body. His palms began to sweat. He honestly felt like he was dying of a horrible disease. The thing was, he only felt like that when Eponine was around. What is this feeling? He was afraid to ask Joly, for fear of humiliation by his peers (Enjolras was never one to ask for help. All the Amis knew that). Eventually, he let the idea of his illness go. You have a revolution to run. No time for neurotics. It’s probably nothing.

The symptoms got worse the more he saw Eponine. At one point late at night while writing his speech, Enjolras noticed that instead of writing Patria like he always did, he wrote her name. Eponine. Why? Enjolras began to feel his heart beat at the beauty of the name that was etched on the paper. He scratched it out and continued his speech.

He would lay in his bed after a long meeting, but when he would closed his eyes, her face would appear. Damn! What’s wrong with me?

The more he saw her, whether in his dreams or in real life, he would try to fight what he felt. But he couldn’t.

The first time they spoke was before a meeting. Eponine walked up the stairs into the room where Enjolras was preparing.

She knocked on the wall.

“Monsieur Enjolras?” she asked.

Enjolras turned around to face her.

“May I help you?” he questioned.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but is Monsieur Marius here yet?”

Enjolras shook his head.

“May I wait here for him?”

“Be my guest.” Enjolras said as he went back to his work.

Eponine took a seat at one of the tables and waited, but it seemed that she was never the patient type, so she began walking around the cafe.

She finally made a stop at the table where Enjolras sat, taking the place across from him.

“May I help you, mademoiselle?” he asked without looking up.

“I liked your speech yesterday.” she told.

Enjolras’ ears perked up at those words.

“Just the way you use your words in almost a hypnotic fashion is quite…what’s the word…?”

“Amazing? Interesting? Phenomenal?…”

“THAT’S THE WORD!” Eponine exclaimed.

Enjolras looked at her a little funny.

“You really like my work?”

“Yes, yes I do! I mean I don’t agree with what you are fighting for, but I do like it!”

“I should’ve known. You women are all the same…”

“We are not! At least, I’m not like the women you are thinking of.”

“I can see that.” Enjolras teased.

Eponine crossed her arms over her chest.

“Are you married?”

“I choose not to be.” Enjolras responded.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Enjolras heart began to beat at the sound of those words.

“No. I don’t have time for it.”

Eponine scooted close to Enjolras, making him uncomfortable.

“So you’ve never held a woman’s hand, like this.”

She took his hand into hers, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles.

“And look into her beautiful eyes and tell her how much she means to you?”

The two of them locked eyes, making a small bit of chemistry between the two. Eponine and

Enjolras sat in silence, almost admiring one another.

“Eponine?” came a voice that broke their silence.

Eponine wore a huge smile on her face at who she saw.

“Marius!”

Enjolras turned around and watched as she ran over to him.

“I hope she wasn’t bothering you, my friend!” Marius commented.

Enjolras, for some strange reason, felt anger towards Marius. Why? He didn’t do anything.

“No! Not at all.” Enjolras responded, trying to hide the growl in his voice.

“Well if you don’t mind, I’m dropping off some plans for tonight’s meeting. Courfeyrac is making some more pamphlets. I’m going to go pick them up.”

“I’ll come too!” Eponine exclaimed as she followed Marius to the stairs.

Before she left, she took one last look at Enjolras.

“You’re a very interesting man. Do you mind if we talk again?”

“Not at all. Come by anytime…just leave the love stuff out of it.”

Eponine giggled and disappeared.

What she didn’t see was the small grin forming on the revolutionary’s lips.

The two of them had many more talks together, which spanned beyond the conversation they first had. They spoke about books, history, words, politics, and of course the revolution. Enjolras never thought he would be this close to a woman, and he was very surprised at her interests especially coming from a beggar girl.

Eponine really made an impact on him one day in April. A crowd had gathered in front of the great General Lamarque’s house. Enjolras was speaking to his followers about the rights of the people, how the King must be overthrown. He usually didn’t have off days, but on this day he was losing his touch. Many of his followers were leaving, which made Enjolras panic. I can’t lose them! We need this revolution! In the middle of the crowd stood a face he recognized. Eponine’s. All at once, Enjolras felt a rush of adrenaline. His heart pounded in his chest. His mind cleared. Without realizing what he was saying, his words brought his people back, cheering. Enjolras never felt so alive than he felt now. When he finished, Enjolras searched for Eponine’s face in the mess of people. When he did, a burning sensation grew in the pit of his stomach. She was talking to Marius, and she was smiling. Was he jealous? Jealous of his friend for catching the eye of this woman to whom he did not have feelings for? Could I be in love? Eponine turned her head, brown eyes meeting his blue. No. Not love, but she is what I need. She is the symbol of the revolution.

From that point on, the face of Eponine fueled his fire. His speeches had drastically improved, and more people began to listen. When he wrote his speeches, he didn’t cross out Eponine’s name. Eponine was his Patria. At night, he saw her face in his dreams. If it was possible to smile in a dream, he wore the biggest one. She is my muse. She is my voice. She is my revolution.


He watched as Marius left with Eponine, no doubt going to go find Marius’ mystery girl. The burning sensation came back, but he pushed it away. Lamarque was dead. The revolution was falling into place.

Enjolras rallied his people. The revolution would take place at Lamarque’s funeral, which meant that they had only one day to prepare. The women began to sew flags and the men began to fashion bullets out of melted silver. The hum of revolutionary fervor flew all over the cafe. This what he had been dreaming of. This is what he worked so hard for. This is what Eponine helped me with.

Eponine. Just the thought of her name made him giddy. How can one woman make his dream come true? His heart beated hard, his adrenaline flowed through his body. Eponine. The revolution, suddenly, became a blur. Eponine.


It was about three in the morning when Enjolras finally decided to go home. It had been a long day and an exciting night, but he needed rest for the battle to come. As he gathered his materials, he heard the familiar footsteps walking up the stairs. Eponine.

She stood at the top of the stairwell, wet from the rain going on outside. Eponine looked like a painting, one that every artist everywhere would envy. She had the true aura of liberty.

“Is Marius here?” she asked weakly.

Enjolras shook his head.

“He left a few hours ago.”

Eponine nodded. “I’m sorry to bother you, monsieur. I’ll leave now.”

She disappeared down the stairs. Enjolras watched her leave, but for some reason didn’t want her to go. His heart began to beat again. For some reason he wanted to follow her, and for some reason he did.

“Eponine!” he called out to her in the quiet streets. She turned around, surprised at the sight of the revolutionary running towards her.

“Oui, monsieur?”

“The moment has finally arrived. The revolution will be upon us.”

Eponine looked at him with concern, something that Enjolras had never seen her do yet liked.

“So, you are going to join them?” she asked.

Enjolras nodded.

“I’m leading.”

“Will Marius be there?”

Marius. She’s going to fight with Marius.Enjolras felt that sensation in the pit of his stomach again, this time consuming his entire stomach.

“Oui.” he swallowed.

Before Eponine could leave, Enjolras grabbed her arm.

“I know what you are thinking. It’s not worth it. Risking your life for a man who will never return your affections.”

“Why do you care what happens to me? I’m a nobody!”

“No you are not! Eponine, you are somebody! Marius is a child. He is blind. I may have had this revolution taking up most of my time, but there was never a moment that I never saw you. Marius doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you to look out for him. He’s fighting for the wrong woman. He should be fighting for you, like I am…”

Eponine looked at him in a mixture of shock and puzzlement.

“Monsieur Enjolras…are…are you in love with me?”

Enjolras froze. Love? Was I in love with her the entire time? He thought back to all the times he saw her, how she was always on his mind. How he always felt stronger when she was around. How he truly understood what it meant to fight for a cause, because she was his cause. It was true. He was fighting for her.

“Is there any possible way that I could win your affections?” Enjolras asked with hesitation in his voice.

Eponine held his hand and looked at him in the eyes.

“Enjolras, your duty is to the revolution. Mine is to Marius. Mine will always be to Marius. I’m…I’m sorry.”

Enjolras’s chest began to hurt, as if he had been shot. He didn’t want to believe her words. He didn’t want to believe his heart. His heart, which was now breaking.

“Don’t be sorry. We have our duties, and we must fulfill them.” Enjolras choked.

Eponine nodded in agreement.

“Good luck on your revolution, monsieur Enjolras. I hope all goes well.”

As she began to walk away, Enjolras called to her.

“EPONINE!”

She turned around again.

Through the heartbreak he felt, through the sadness and woe, he told her something that he truly meant with all his heart.

“Stay away from the barricades.”

She stared at Enjolras for a few seconds more before leaving him alone.

Enjolras didn’t move. He just watched the woman he had fallen in love with hurry down the street.

I was the one who had it all. Enjolras realized.

I was the master of my fate

I never needed anybody in my life

I learned the truth too late

Eponine was still in his line of sight, her dress and hair flying as she ran. His chest now burned with heartbreak.

I’ll never shake away the pain

I close my eyes but she’s still there

I let her steal into my melancholy heart

It’s more than I can bear

Eponine’s form was disappearing into the night. He didn’t want to lose her. Without breaking his contact of her, Enjolras hurried back to the cafe.

Now I know she’ll never leave me

Even as she runs away

She will still torment me

Call me, hurt me

Move me, come what may

He climbed the very stair that she would climb, trying to see if he could still keep her in his sight.

Wasting in my lonely cafe

Waiting by an open door

I’ll fool myself, she’ll walk right in

And be with me for evermore

He managed to get to the cafe window and to his relief, Enjolras could still see her. He held his hand out of the window as if he could grabber her.

I rage against the trials of love

I curse the fading of the light

Though she’s already flown so far beyond my reach

She’s never out of sight

Eponine was now as small as a speck, but Enjolras didn’t care. He could still see her. His love. His Patria. His revolution.

Now I know she’ll never leave me

Even as she fades from view

She will still inspire me

Be a part of everything I do

Wasting in my lonely cafe

Waiting by an open door

I’ll fool myself, she’ll walk right in

And as the long, long nights begin

I’ll think of all that might have been

Waiting here for evermore

In the distance, Eponine stopped and looked back. For the first time ever, she felt something she had never felt before. She felt loved.

anonymous asked:

could you pretty please write a drabble or something about R with kids because I srsly need that rn thanks! 💕💕

  • Les Amis volunteer at Gavroche’s school carnival
  • R runs the face-painting booth
  • Enjolras ends up spending most of the evening watching R and seeing him make all the kids so excited because he can more or less transform them into whatever they want. 
  • They leave his booth very happy and he’s never seen R so happy. He’s smiling and laughing and genuinely enjoying himself with all the kids.
  • R notices Enjolras watching him and at the end of the carnival calls over to him, “Come over here Apollo and I’ll paint a French flag on your cheek.”
  • Enjolras hesitates and R says, “or I can paint whatever you want instead.”
  • Enjolras looks at the floor while quietly responding, “could you make me a cat?”
  • R represses a grin and says sure. Enjolras sits down and has trouble dealing with how close R has to get to his face while painting it.
  • Enjolras ends up staring at R’s lips the whole time and how did he never notice how attractive they are… 
  • he definitely does not want to kiss them afterwards
  • “So you like kids, huh?” “Yeah…they remind me of you actually.” Enjolras raises his eyebrows. “I mean, they’re still optimistic and see the good in world. It rubs off on me.” Enjolras snorts, “More than I do it would seem…you think everything I do is pointless.”
  • Grantaire remains silent until he finishes painting and responds, “nah, I believe in you…” then he taps Enjolras’ nose with the paintbrush while saying, “mon petit chat.”
Some Fight Left In Me

For liberaldisaster, who requested a fic about Enjolras and his service dog. Written on my phone since my computer is still dead, so please forgive any weird autocorrects I didn’t catch.

Developing E/R, modern AU. Warnings for brief mentions of violence/injury and injury recovery.

Both Enjolras and the labradoodle at his feet lifted their heads as Grantaire clattered into the room, but as soon as the dog saw who it was, he set his head back down on his paws. “Enjolras,” Grantaire panted, out of breath. “A bunch of us are getting coffee and I–” He broke off, wheezing. “Christ, I’m out of shape.”

Enjolras hid a smile. “You’re getting coffee and wanted to invite me?” he guessed. “You know, you own this thing called a cellphone that allows you to text or call me instead running all the way over here.”

Grantaire shrugged, still breathing heavily. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” he asked. “Besides, I’m better at guilting you in person than over the phone.”

“Fair enough,” Enjolras said after he rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. “So where are you planning on going, anyway?”

Keep reading

4

Oh would you look at that its barricade day….

I cba to put my canon era stuff on (maybe tomorrow for barricade day proper?) so have some modern au stuff

the pictures are captioned so feel free to flick through (if you can’t read them let me know and I’ll put the captions here)

My favourite Enjolras is the Enjolras who adores his friends. The Enjolras who confuses everyone who isn’t in the group because from the outside it looks like he is dating all of the les Amis.

Enjolras who never stops talking about how great Feuilly is, both in front of Feuilly and behind his back. Enjolras who jumps into EVERY fight bahorel gets in around him, like Enjolras is tiny but he bites like a motherfucker.

Enjolras who will spend hours with Courfeyrac talking and will go to every single event he plans without complaint because he knows courfeyrac loves these things. Enjolras who fake dates Marius with the sole purpose of pissing off his grandfather because he is the only one who isn’t terrified of that man. And when Combeferre adopts a cat Enjolras keeps his allergy secret and has to sneak tons of medicine to keep from sneezing constantly.

Enjolras being the first person joly bossuet and Musichetta come to with their relationship because they know he will not only accept them without question but also be at their side for every other time they tell people and he has a strangely comforting presence. And every time Eponine or Montparnasse need somewhere to crash for the night his couch is open and he always buys breakfast for them in the morning.

And when jehan has a poetry reading Enjolras is always at the middle front seat getting way too into it and making jehan blush afterwards with all the compliments. Enjolras who showers his friends with compliments, thanking them for every contribution they make and getting this earnest face on as  he tells them how much their dedication means to him.

Enjolras not being the best to come to with personal problems, but he will always listen, just don’t ask for advice. I mean just picture Enjolras with his serious face on looking Cosette in the eye and nodding along as she tells him all the fluffy details about her date with Marius. That’s a great mental picture okay?

I want to see more of Enjolras who knows all of his friends coffee orders and will buy them one whenever he has a chance, or Enjolras who will see something in a store and absolutely light up because it reminds him of one of his friends and immediately he buys it. Enjolras just being the most affectionate person, sometimes inconveniently so, calling his friends at three thirty in the morning to tell them how important they are to him, or pressing kisses to their cheeks and hugging them tightly every time he sees them as if they had been parted for years while it’s really been moments. And this often leads to people thinking he is dating multiple, if not all the members of the Les amis, this assumption is not refuted by the way he will sometimes find a friend and just hold their face and tell them how amazing he thinks they are.

Also in assemblies Enjolras is that annoying person yelling over everyone to find his friends so they can all sit together, and reserving a whole row with his books, bags, jacket, scarf and anything else so they wont be separated. 

And when Enjolras actually starts dating Grantaire people find out that he was actually being somewhat reserved before.

Even Rebels Need To Have Fun

Pairing: Enjolras x reader

Summary: In the middle of the French Revolution, fun is hard to come by, and sometimes people need a bit of encouragement to take part in the merriment. Luckily Enjolras has you to encourage him

A/N: This is my first time writing Les Mis fanfic, so please tell me what you think of it!

Originally posted by someshowimaginesguys

Originally posted by simplybridal

(Not my gifs)

You looked up from the book you’d been half-reading as the sounds of voices got louder. You’d been able to hear odd shouts from where your friends were holding their meeting, but you couldn’t hear much. Just the odd thing about starting a revolution, nothing out of the ordinary.
Enjolras sat down heavily in the chair opposite you, a sigh escaping his lips as he rested his elbows on the table top and let his head fall into his palms. You closed your book, setting it on the table before placing a reassuring hand on his broad shoulder.
“How are you?” you asked quietly, noticing the weary expressions on the other men who were now milling around the café and starting to pour drinks.
“The people are afraid,” he said eventually, lifting his head with another heavy sigh. “They are afraid to stand up and fight alongside us, (Y/N). It seems as if we are alone in this fight.”
“That’s not what I asked, Enjolras,” you told him softly. “I know what is happening with the people, I see it with my own eyes every day. How are you?”
He looked up slowly, his calm blue eyes locking with yours. His brow furrowed as he contemplated an answer to your question, a question that seemed so simple but was one of the most trivial he could be asked.
In truth, he hadn’t thought about how he himself was coping recently, or for a long time. There was no time for talk or thought of anything but revolution. Perhaps that was why Marius was so particularly annoying to him that evening, with his talk of being in love. Who had time for that these days?
“I am well enough,” he answered eventually. You raised your eyebrows, unconvinced, but didn’t say anything. “And yourself?” he asked, frowning now. “You do not talk much of your own feelings.”
“I am an open book,” you said with a smile. “I wear my heart on my sleeve.”
Enjolras glanced at your sleeve, where a rosette of red, white and blue fabric was pinned. He chuckled slightly.
“It seems you do.”
Your conversation was interrupted by the screech of a violin from the corner of the café. Both you and Enjolras covered your ears in horror, glaring over at the man who’d brought out the instrument.
“What are you doing?” Enjolras demanded. “You’ll deafen us with that thing.”
“We need a little song and dance around here,” the man replied. “Remember singing? Remember dancing? Remember fun? I propose we have one last night of fun before we give our lives to the cause.”
A cheer rose up from the other men, and suddenly there was a collective scraping sound as tables and chairs were pushed to the edges of the room to clear space for dancing.
Enjolras simply rolled his eyes as the man with the violin began to play a lively dancing tune, prompting the men to start an even livelier dance. You chuckled, watching in amusement your friends who had drunk too much already attempting to stay upright.
You glanced across at Enjolras, taking note of the disapproving expression on his handsome face. You nudged his arm gently, getting his attention.
“You might want to wipe that scowl off your face. They deserve this,” you told him. “They need a night like this, and so do you, Enjolras. We have been working too hard for too long, and even you need to let your curly locks down.”
He opened his mouth to reply, with something sarcastic and angry no doubt, but your attention was elsewhere as a very tipsy looking Grantaire staggered over and bowed in front of you. He took your hand and pressed a sloppy kiss to the back, making you giggle.
“My sweet fair (Y/N), would you do me the immeasurable honour of sharing a dance with a mere mortal like myself?” he slurred, winking at you. You rolled your eyes, grinning in amusement at his drunken state.
“Only because we might be dead by tomorrow,” you told him, rising to your feet and following him into the crowd of dancers.
“You do say the loveliest things,” he grinned.
Almost as soon as your chair was emptied, it was filled once more by Marius, who slung an arm around Enjolras’ shoulders. The curly haired man shrugged his arm off almost immediately.
“Your face betrays you, Enjolras,” Marius teased, nudging him. “You looked ready to shoot our dear friend Grantaire when he was talking to your (Y/N).”
“She’s not my (Y/N),” he insisted. “And my face looked as it always looks.”
Marius grinned, getting once again to his feet. “Exactly,” he said with an air of mystery, before disappearing into the crowd. Enjolras frowned.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
You laughed giddily as Grantaire spun you around, nearly making you lose your footing. He caught you with an arm around your waist, leaning in so that his lips were next to your ear.
“So when will you and Enjolras declare your love for each other?”
You pulled away from him slightly, continuing to dance with him but frowning slightly now. “I don’t know what you mean, Grantaire. Perhaps you have had too much wine?”
“There’s no such thing!” he declared loudly, nearly hitting little Gavroche in the face as he tried to get past. “And you know exactly what I mean, (Y/N). You and Enjolras can barely keep your eyes off each other.”
You would have protested against this, had you not just been searching for Enjolras in the crowd. You sighed, trying to ignore the smug look on Grantaire’s face.
“Enjolras has no time for such petty things as love,” you told him. “You saw what he was like when Marius was swooning around earlier.”
“Ah, but he has time for something as dear to him as you. Look now, and you’ll see the jealousy on his face.”
Grantaire spun you so that you were looking over his shoulder at where Enjolras sat in the corner. The blond man looked away as soon as you spotted him, as if he was embarrassed to have been caught looking at you. You frowned in confusion, shrugging.
“That’s just his face,” you said. “He always looks like that.”
“Because he is always jealous of the man whose company you are in,” Grantaire whispered dramatically. “Now go, ask him to dance and you shall see for yourself!”
He shoved you in Enjolras’ direction, and you turned back to look at the dark haired drunkard with a laugh. “He doesn’t dance, Grantaire!” you pointed out.
“He does for you!”
You shook your head in disbelief, continuing towards Enjolras’ table anyway. You reached out and took his hand, tugging him to his feet.
“What are you doing?” he asked in confusion, allowing you to keep holding his hand nonetheless. You smiled slightly.
“Dance with me!”
He shook his head. “I don’t-,”
“Yes you do!” you said firmly. “I said it before, Enjolras, and I’ll say it again. You need this, you need to sing and dance like we did before. Even rebels need to have fun,” you teased.
Enjolras shook his head, smiling softly as he looked up at you. “One dance,” he agreed. “Just one, mind you.”
You ignored him, grinning in triumph as you pulled him into the open space. He held your waist with one hand, his other holding your left hand out to the side as you rested your right hand on his shoulder. The two of you set off twirling and spinning, and eventually he was laughing along with you.
“Alright, perhaps you were right. Perhaps I did need that,” he said with a smile as the two of you sat down on the stairs after sharing five dances, leaving the others to dance on into the small hours. You grinned at him.
“Of course I was right,” you said with a teasing note in your voice. “I’m always right, you just don’t like admitting it.”
Enjolras chuckled, squeezing your hand gently. “Thank you, (Y/N). This was fun.”
You raised your eyebrows, nudging him playfully. “I never thought I’d hear that word from your lips,” you teased. “I thought Enjolras was immune to fun.”
He laughed aloud. “Oh, is that so?”
Before you could reply, he had scooped you up in his arms, tickling your sides mercilessly. You squealed, wriggling until you were standing once more. He wrapped his arms around you, bringing your back flush against his chest.
“Am I still not fun?” he asked, grinning. You smiled slightly, turning so that you were facing him with your hands clasped behind his neck.
“Perhaps you’re a little bit fun.”
He leaned down slowly, both of you shutting your eyes as your lips met in a gentle, loving kiss. After just a few moments that felt like a lifetime, you pulled away and rested your forehead against his. He smiled softly at you, nuzzling your nose with his.
Before either of you could say anything, a small figure pushed past the two of you, forcing you apart. You both opened your mouths to protest, but Gavroche’s voice cut through the two of you.
“Listen to me! Lamarque is dead!”
And with that, the fun was over. With those words, the revolution began.

A/N: Hey there! Please please tell me in my ask what you think of this, I’ve never written for Les Mis before so your feedback is greatly appreciated!

Alright, folks, my self-indulgent insecure Ace!Enjolras eXR fic I wrote to make myself feel better is here. Some NSFW talk, but mostly just awkward communications.


“No,” Enjolras said flatly, not even looking up from his essay.

“Come on,” Courfeyrac whinned. “You’re attracted to him, he’s attracted to you. A date won’t hurt.”

“Yes it will,” he snapped. “Because it’s two /different/ attractions. How many times do we have to go over this?”

“How do you know? Come on. Just have dinner with him. It’s not like he’s going to ask to bone you right away.”

“Courf,” Enjolras warned, looking slightly disgusted.

“Fine, right, sorry.” Courfeyrac said as he flopped on the couch. “But you get my point!”

“And you /don’t/ get mine. It’s not about one date. It’s about the fact that I’d be leading him on.”

Courfeyrac got back up, took Enjolras’ face in his hands and forced him to look at him. “Listen. Are you listening? Unless you open with ‘Hey, we’re tots gonna have sex later’ you’re not leading him on.”

“If we continue on dates, he’ll expect it.”

“Then bring it up! I don’t understand why you’ve always been so skittish about this topic.”

Enjolras sighed. “This is Grantaire we’re talking about. You know what he’s like. He’ll want it at some point, and I /can’t/. Maybe it it was a stranger and I could cut them off if I had to…but he’s part of the group…”

Courfeyrac looked ready to bash his head against a wall. “He went two years thinking you /hated/ him. If it doesn’t work out, I’m pretty sure he’ll get over it.”

“Not easily.”

“Nothing with Granatire is easy,” Courfeyrac pointed out. “Not when it comes to things like that.”

Enjolras glanced at the clock and groaned. “I have to finish this essay. If I promise to have a coffee date, will you /please/ leave me alone?”

Courfeyrac’s face lit up. “Deal!”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Ok but Idk where to say this but I luv u so I'll say it to you. That bit where grantaire is mockingly encouraging Marius to keep singing has always rubbed off on me like "enjolras this is how you should be acting while I'm not around." Like he does that little gesture thing in the movie when he sings "red" and I just jshdkabdjsnsbsk

First of all, friend, you are always welcome to come share such wonderful thoughts with me, because you are ABSOLUTELY RIGHT.

I mean, just look at this little shit:

LOOK AT THE SMUG LITTLE HALF-SMILE, the one that says, “I am going to pay for this later, but it will be so worth it.”

Also, look at Enjolras’s face during this whole exchange. He surprisingly doesn’t look at frustrated or fed up as I seem to remember him being (or have imagined him being, either way). He rolls his eyes at Marius, but once Grantaire starts egging Marius on, he’s pretty patient, all things considered. Like, clearly, Marius is ridiculous, but Grantaire – well, maybe he’s heard Grantaire say the same thing as Marius before, but maybe Enjolras never really put it together as to what Grantaire was talking about.

(”You said that to me, once,” Enjolras tells Grantaire, abruptly, and Grantaire merely arches an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve said many things, fair leader, and as such, I’ll need you to be more specific.”

Enjolras blushes but carries doggedly onward. “You said – something about being struck to the bone. Le coup de foudre.” He hesitates before blurting, “Were you talking about me?”

Grantaire takes a long pull from his bottle as if deciding upon the best answer. “None but Apollo himself may strike me to the bone with breathless delight,” he says finally, leaving Enjolras frankly more confused than before.

And later, when all have left for the night, Grantaire finishes his bottle alone and says out loud, though none is there to hear, “But too well do I know the color of despair.”)

Secondly, I love you too, dearest Nonny!! Please feel free to swing by anytime you feel the urge to share more :)

Requested Enjolras imagine

A/N: sorry im like two days late but i didn’t have any sleep last night and i had a long day at school.

The soldiers were climbing on the barricade, it was in the heat of the moment when you run up the barricade to protect your friends and got a sword in your stomach. The pain was indescribable, you looked at your wound while the rest was, still fighting. You decided to cover it up with a towell and not talk about it, it would heal itself, you thought.


The fight was over, the boys climbed of the barricade tapping each other on the shoulder. You forced a smile and walked with them to the cafe, ‘y/n, are you alright? You don’t look so well.’ It was Enjolras.
You looked at him, not sure what to say, you wanted to tell him you got injured but you didn’t want them to be worried about you when they had something bigger to worry about.


When you stumbled towards the cafe you were feeling dizzy, things were starting to get blurry and vague. You felt yourself slip away ready to hit the hard floor, but that didn’t come. You didn’t really care about it anymore and you closed your eyes.
——————————–
'Come on, y/n. Stay with me, wake up.’ You heard the beautiful voice of Enjolras. You slowly opened your eyes to see the face of Enjolras, 'Thank god.’ He sighed and pulled you into a tight hug.


'What happened?’ You asked, Enjolras looked at you, 'honestly, I don’t know. You have a huge wound on your stomach, but don’t worry I’ll take care of you.’ A soft smile appeared on your face. Knowing you were in good hands, Enjolras had cleaned and disinfected the wound.


'You know y/n, I- uh’ Enjolras stuttered a but, you’ve never seen him like this, where was this going? 'I’ve never felt this way about someone, and I want you to know that I care about you. A lot. I just want you to be with me.’ Enjolras looked away, his cheeks were red like his jacket.


You reached towards him, touching his flushing cheeks gently. 'Enjolras I love you, and if that means we’re going to die out there then so be it. But I only want to be with you.’ You looked him straight in the eyes. Enjolras face changed from shy and even a bit scared to hopeful, he leaned in. Then at last his lips meet yours, it was soft but passionate, this I’d all you’ve lived for.

I blame @themasterismoriarty for coming up with this AU. This is his fault.

- - -

“I don’t see why you mean to go. Enjolras and ‘Ponine can sort things on their own, can’t they?” Montparnasse crossed his arms.

Prouvaire gave a small nod. “But my parents have friends in New York. Connections. I think I could be a help.”

An exasperated sigh from the assassin. “You’re coming back? You won’t stay in America?”

“Of course not.” The poet smiled at him, fiddling with Montparnasse’s waistcoat.

A few feet away, Cosette and Musichetta were embracing Éponine.

“You know whom to see? Who’ll help us?” Cosette’s eyes were wide, nervous.

“Of course,” Éponine scoffed. For once, her hair was neatly combed and pinned up, and she was dressed, if not lavishly, then neatly.

“Good.” Musichetta pressed a ticket into her hand.

“Ooh, get me. First class and everything!” Éponine laughed with delight.

“Hmmph.” An indignant sound from Enjolras. “Passengers oughtn’t to be divided by class. This is the twentieth century, for heaven’s sake.”

“And what a shame, Apollo, that things are no better than in the last.” Grantaire caught his hand and Enjolras levelled an affronted stare at him, prompting a laugh. “You’ll be careful? Refrain from doing anything stupid?

“Of course. When have I ever-”

“Would you like a comprehensive list, or simply the most spectacularly badly thought out?” Combeferre grinned at his friend.

Enjolras heaved a sigh. “That’s…”

Accurate.” Grantaire nodded sagely.

“And you’ll have to conduct yourself properly, 'Ponine! That means you have to wear shoes. You’re representing us, and you’ll be following in the footsteps of Elizabeth Cady Stanton,” Musichetta admonished Éponine.

“Yes, and the Pankhursts!” There was excitement in Cosette’s voice as she chimed in.

Éponine grinned. “You needn’t worry. I’ll behave like a lady.”

“I’ll miss you, you know.” Prouvaire leaned closer to Montparnasse.

“I should go with you.” A serious frown from the assassin.

“A street criminal wouldn’t make a good representative for the French suffragettes.”

Montparnasse laughed. “I suppose. But you’ll write?”

Prouvaire nodded. “Every day.”

“Good.” The serious expression returned to Montparnasse’s face as he straightened the purple flower in the poet’s buttonhole.

Meanwhile, Grantaire pressed a kiss to the back of Enjolras’s hand. “I mean it. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t.” Enjolras smiled at him.

“Promise me?”

“Of course!”

“You’ve got to swear it.”

“Alright. I promise.

Grantaire nodded, satisfied. “Don’t forget me, Apollo.”

“Never.”

Musichetta looked Éponine over a last time and then nodded. “It’s time, 'Ponine.”

Éponine smiled. “Alright. Thank you, 'Chetta. I won’t disappoint you.”

She pulled Cosette and Musichetta into one last embrace and then squared her shoulders.

“Gentlemen! Time to be off!”

Enjolras sighed and leaned in to kiss Grantaire’s cheek. “I won’t be away very long.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Apollo.”

Grantaire gave him a last smile.

Montparnasse reluctantly let go of Prouvaire. “I love you. Remember that, will you?”

Prouvaire smiled happily up at him. “And I love you, too.”

Combeferre clasped Enjolras’s hand, and finding it too impersonal, he embraced his childhood friend. “Good luck, Enjolras.”

Courfeyrac was the next to embrace Enjolras. “Stay out of trouble, alright? We’ll be here when you get back.”

Enjolras nodded, trying not to cry.

There was another round of goodbyes from the Friends of the ABC, 'good luck’ and 'don’t forget to write,’ embraces and poorly disguised tears.

And then they were watching Prouvaire, Éponine, and Enjolras hurry up the gangway.

Once they had boarded the ship, Prouvaire leaned worryingly far over the railing to wave to his friends. Enjolras restrained himself only a shade more, shouting to Combeferre and to Courfeyrac, and Éponine saluted Musichetta and Cosette with a mischievous grin.

'Ferre leaned in to whisper to Courf in an excited tone: “A week! Isn’t that amazing? It’s- it’s historic, that’s what.”

Courfeyrac grinned at him.

They were distracted from the conversation by a loud blast from the ship’s foghorn.

“Good luck!” Courfeyrac waved so hard it felt as if his arm would fall off, jumping up and down as the ship started to move away from the dock.

“Enjolras! Remember what we talked about! Good luck!” Combeferre craned his neck to catch a glimpse of Enjolras on deck.

Montparnasse let his hand fall to his side, a worried look on his face as he watched the distance between him and Prouvaire widen.

Courfeyrac nudged him. “Don’t look like that! Nothing to be afraid of.”

Combeferre nodded seriously. “She’s unsinkable, the Titanic.”