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stardancerluv · 5 months

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A Time to Love and to Fight

Part Twenty - Six

Summary: Reader and Enjolras, allowing their moods lead them.

Notes/Warning: 18+ only. Consensual P in V intercourse, Dated views of intercourse

Thank you for reading! ❤️s & reblogs are always welcome. Feedback is also very…very welcome!

Translations: Then I am yours, heart and body. - Alors je suis à toi, corps et cœur. My love - Mon amour, Beautiful- Beau, My beauty - Mon Beaute.

He chuckled, “So tell me what has made my wife so bubbly?”

Your eyes twinkled. “The ladies gave me some wine.” You leaned in close. “Its stronger then whatever we drank at the tavern.”

“So are you feeling nice and warm?”

You nodded, a giggle came from you.

He shook his head smiling. “Those women befuddled my dear wife.”

“Enjolras?” You hold onto your bravery. You would finally tell him.

“Yes, love.”

“There is something I have been wanting to tell you.” You say in a lower tone.

He rested his forehead against yours. “Oh? This sounds like it will be very interesting.” He smiled and pulled back.

“You remind me of all those dashing rogues I used to read about.”

He sat a little straighter getting a hold of warm fuzziness the ale he had drank earlier did to him. He rested his hands on your hips.

He wiggled his brows. “Oh? Do I now.”

“Yes, you are dashing like them and are very close to how they came out of a writer’s pen.” You placed a hand over your heart.

He truly loved and enjoyed this sweet your nature.

“I am completely besotted.”

His lips were curled in an easy smirk but it easily shifted to a soft smile. Around you smiles felt natural were not a tool to gain something he wanted or needed.

“Are you sure this is not the wine those ladies gave you?”

You shook your head. “No. Ever since I stumbled into the warehouse and you retrieved my fallen scarf.”

He chuckled. “That feels so long ago now.”

You nod.

Reaching up he cupped your cheek. “You were a sweet distraction that night.” His thumb caressed your cheek.”

As you leaned into his hand and sighed, his heart picked up speed. He drew close to you, meet your eyes he bit his bottom lip before he kissed you.

Your lips were so and hesitant at first; easily it allowed him to easily deepen it. As you pressed against him answering his kiss his passion grew.

“I need you mon ange.”

“Alors je suis à toi, corps et cœur.” You breathed

Your words made his stomach tighten in his desire for you. Moving, he lifted you and so you were now the one sitting on the bed. He standing above you he bent down to kiss you. Your lips were hungry as they touched.

“Shuffle back a little, love and lift your skirt.” He managed to breathlessly say.

You nodded, easily you lifted your skirt and soon your petticoat. Watching you, he trembled as his excitement pressed hard against his trousers.

Kneeling on the bed, he took a breath and reaching up and pulled you free of your undergarment. He tucked them into one of his pockets.

“My beautiful girl.” He murmured catching your eye. When he did he saw the pink darken in your cheeks.

Easing one of legs around his hip he gently brushed your soft entrance. The soft moan that poured from your lips, shook him to his core. He easily then entered you. Loving how he snuggly felt using his unscarred hand he braced himself on the bed beside you.

“Mon amour.” He moaned aloud.

He smiled as he discovered that you had loosened laces near your décolletage.

“Beau.” He pressed his lips against yours. “Mon beaute.”

He began to easily move within you. As he did he relished the feel of your fingers in his curls. You moans fueled him. You were so soft, so lovely. You were his sweet little trésor.

You trembled under him. “Amour, my pleasure is about to wash over me.”

“Good. Mine will not be long after you.”

His lips met yours once more and he could hear as your muffled cry, his his mouth as you shared a sweet kiss. Your sweet tightening pulled on him and the knots that had been tightening inside of him snapped and he barely could muffle himself as his own pleasure washed over him. He gripped the blankets tightly as he felt himself fill you with his essence.

******

In your chemise, you sighed and laud your head on his chest. You smiled as you felt his lips press against the top of your head.

“Love, I couldn’t wait, nor stall my pleasure for you. Laying as we normally do when we become one, would have been too long for me.” He whispered against his your ruffled strands.

“It was exciting and different. I had no idea we could move like that but it felt so good.”

You buried your face into his chest. “Oh, the wine has continued to make my ability to speak of all things.

You felt as he squeezed your shoulder. “It is alright my love. The idea came to me, that you are becoming an inspiration in many parts in my life. This make our life in England, quite an adventure.”

“Truly?” You asked softly.

You glanced at him in shadowy cabin towards him.

“Yes. And I enjoy your thoughts, never stifle them.”

“I will have to remember that.”

“Yes. After all that we have already gone through, I do not want to change how we are.”

“Thank you.” You yawned softly.

A soft chuckle came from him. “I do say it is a good idea we shared about retiring early. I believe our passions has brought a cloak of slumber that wishes to be wrapped around you and I.”

You were barely awake, hearing his soothing voice just lulled you more into the world of dreams that were eager to visit. Keeping that solitary candle burning, shadows were cast in all directions and the flame flickered in draft that blew around as the boat continued to cut through the dark, ocean.

******

How much later, you were not certain. As you rose onto your elbow in dim cabin. You were grateful Enjolras had lit a candle. He had burned to half of its stature. You eyed his sleeping form, his features were smooth and soft. Underneath was a warrior that had fought and protected you.

Inhaling you saw his scared hand. You let your finger tips just graze what remained of the wound. For a moment, you were haunted by the night you and him fled into the night. The acrid smell of the guns, how the wood door burst open as the soldiers stormed through.

“Love? Are you alright?”

You stilled not realizing you had been trembling. That night shook you. His voice raspy as sleep still held onto part of him brought a calmness to you.

You glanced down at him and nodded. He took the past that had lingered around you.

“Yes.”

“Night terror?”

“Not necessarily.”

He rubbed an eye. “Your father?”

“Not tonight. I was remembering that night.”

“Come lay back down. It will be dawn soon. Let me hold you.”

“Yes.”

You nestled close with a sigh. His hand gently caressed your arm. You felt as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I am so grateful that we made it, yet it still haunts me.” You finally spoke glimpsing up at him.

“Me as well. While I was playing cards, memories of times with Courfeyrac and Grantaire came to mind.”

His arm around you tightened.

“Once we reach land, I will send messages.”

@henry-cavs-tudor @corrodedcoffn @dealswiththedevilsblog @randomstory56 @pl1nfa1 @phantomxoxo @ladybug0095 @the-iridescent-phoenix @maryan028 @kindablackenedsuperhero @amethyst-serenade @moondev1l @samunson83 @julieteagk @little-wormwood @wafflepixie @shadyhamiltonfanatic @gretavankleep37 @peacefroggg23 @capailluiscedove @poisonedeuphoria

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punk-in-docs · 1 year

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Do not for the love of god get me started on how horny I am for this scruffy puppy eyed hero (absolutely do please? I’m going feral fill my inbox)

#punkwrites #i would die for this man #enjolras x you #enjolras x y/n #enjolras x fem!reader #enjolras fanfiction #enjolras les mis #joseph quinn #go feral #PLEASE #WANT HIM NOW #I MEAN FUCKKK

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phantomstatistician · 6 days

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Fandom: Les Miserables

Sample Size: 25,546 stories

Source: AO3

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sharkemojis · 3 months

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tell people you're writing a novel and they're impressed. tell them you're writing a 85,000 word fanfiction centred around two male characters from a book written over a hundred years ago because its fun to imagine boys kissing and they'll tell you you're crazy. because of woke

#les miserables #les mis #enjoltaire #grantaire #enjolras #les amis #exr #courfeyrac #combeferre #courferre #fanfic #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #writing #ao3 #ao3fic #wattpad

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kjack89 · 5 months

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The Wikipedia Page

For the Hoeshold <3

E/R, modern AU, developing relationship, all shenanigans.

“Can you fucking believe this?” Enjolras said, incredulous, staring down at his phone.

Combeferre sighed the long-suffering sigh of a man who was about to enter into a conversation he knew he would deeply regret. “For the billionth time,” he said, with the patience of a saint, “when you’re looking at your phone, I can’t see what you’re looking at.”

Enjolras scowled and thrust his phone at Combeferre. “Here,” he said shortly. “Look at this shit.”

Combeferre glanced down at the phone, his brow furrowing. “It’s a Wikipedia page for – oh.”

Enjolras nodded grimly. “Yeah,” he said. “Exactly. Someone made a fucking Wikipedia page for me.”

“Of you, more like,” Combeferre murmured, scanning the page with an almost academic interest. “And not a very good one. Some facts are wrong.”

Enjolras’s scowl deepened and he yanked his phone back. “So now they’re just making up lies about me?” he seethed as he scanned the article. His own brow furrowed and he glanced up at Combeferre. “I don’t see anything inaccurate here.”

Combeferre frowned and took Enjolras’s phone back. “Well, for starters, it says you’ve been brought up on charges of domestic terrorism—“

“Which is true,” Enjolras interjected.

“You’ve been accused of domestic terrorism, but never indicted,” Combeferre corrected. “Thankfully for everyone involved, there’s a bit of a difference.”

Enjolras smirked. “You and the US Attorney’s office would probably disagree on that.”

“Secondly,” Combeferre continued, the long-suffering tone of regret back in his voice, “it says that you graduated from Harvard in 2016.”

Enjolras suddenly seemed unable to meet Combeferre’s eyes. “Oh,” he said. “Right.”

Combeferre’s eyes narrowed. “And of course,” he said, “you were kicked out of Harvard your senior year.” He paused before adding pointedly, “Right?”

“About that,” Enjolras started, and Combeferre gave him a look.

“You really lied about getting kicked out of Harvard?”

Enjolras’s face was roughly the same color as his usual hoodie. “I mean, I did get in trouble,” he mumbled, “and I wasn’t allowed to attend graduation.”

Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Because that’s even remotely the same thing.”

Enjolras’s flush deepened, and he quickly attempted to change the subject. “At least that narrows it down somewhat as to who created this asinine Wikipedia page,” he said, “since very few people know about Harvard.”

“Pretty sure it doesn’t take a genius to contact the alumni office and put two and two together,” Combeferre said dryly.

“But that would require someone to know my full legal name,” Enjolras countered. “And that list is even smaller.”

“Well, while you obsess over who put this page together, I’m going to be over here reconciling the fact that you’ve been lying to me for the past nine years,” Combeferre muttered.

Enjolras looked shame-faced before he paused, his own eyes narrowing. “Hang on,” he said. “You’ve done background checks on every single one of us, myself included, and this absolutely would’ve shown up.”

“So?”

“So what are you actually mad about, since you’ve known all along?” Enjolras didn’t even wait for Combeferre to answer. “You had a bet going for how long it would be before I came clean.”

He didn’t pitch it as a question, and Combeferre didn’t bother with a denial. “Yeah, and if you’d have held it together for another year, I’d’ve won,” he said sourly. “I took the over on a decade.”

“Do I even want to know how many of you were in on this bet?” Wisely, Combeferre stayed silent and Enjolras groaned and put his head in his hands. “Maybe no one will see it?” he said, a little desperately. “After all, our friends have lives, or at least better things to do than stalk Wikipedia.”

Combeferre made a small noise of dissent. “Has our conversation taught you nothing about underestimating our friends?”

Enjolras just sighed heavily. “Then maybe they’ll go gentle on me.”

“And now I think you’re overestimating our friends.”

— — — — —

By the time of the meeting that night, everyone had seen the Wikipedia page. And seemingly, it was all any of them could talk about.

“Can we all just agree,” Courfeyrac said, with actual tears of mirth running down his face, “that it was a stroke of absolute genius to title a section, ‘Personal Life’ and then leave it as ‘This section is being created, or is in the process of extensive expansion or major restructuring’?”

“Personally, I’m a huge fan of the blind quote they used in the section on his politics,” Bossuet said, grinning.

“Where Enjolras is described as, and I quote, ‘so far left that he’s basically circled back around to authoritarianism’?”

Joly sounded positively gleeful, and Bahorel guffawed loudly. “Isn’t that what that idiot wrote about Enjolras in The Epoch Times?”

“That’s how it made it on the page,” Jehan said helpfully. “There was a news story a few years back about an author who couldn’t get her Wikipedia page updated to reflect her divorce until she stated it in an interview.” Bahorel gave him a look of surprise and Jehan shrugged. “I did some amateur Wikipedia editing back in college.”

Enjolras sighed heavily, staring determinedly at the ceiling. “Can we please,” he said through clenched teeth, “talk about literally anything else?”

Naturally, everyone ignored him.

“I really feel like we’re overlooking the best part,” Feuilly said. “Which, of course, is the bit where his personality is described as, quote, ‘has many red flags’.”

“The question, of course,” Combeferre interjected for the first time, “is if the page is referring to Enjolras’s collection of physical flags that are red, or his many charming personality traits that many could consider red flags.”

“Traitor,” Enjolras said through clenched teeth.

“I think the real question is whether someone—” Joly didn’t bother with subtlety as he nudged Grantaire while emphasizing the word ‘someone’. “—would consider the amount of red flags to be a red flag.”

Grantaire pretended to consider it. “I can only speak for myself, but I’d call it a beige flag.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together hard enough to make his dentist weep, glaring at Grantaire. “You’ve been awfully quiet until that little quip.”

Grantaired leaned back in his seat in a somewhat self-satisfied way, raising his beer bottle in a mock toast. “There is such a thing as gilding the lily, and frankly, I’m not sure I could top this.”

“That has literally never stopped you before.”

Grantaire just winked at him, and Enjolras sighed. “Very well,” he said, resignedly, aiming for dignified and falling drastically short. “You all keep having fun at my expense, but if we’re not going to get any work done, I’m going home.”

He gathered his stuff in a huff and marched out with his head held high. At least, that’s what he told himself, though in reality, he probably looked more like a petulant child stomping away from the playground to take his ball and go home.

He had sulked his way about half a block away from the Musain when Grantaire called, “Hey, wait up.”

Enjolras glanced over his shoulder, scowling. “Come to mock me some more?”

“Arguably speaking, we’re all making fun of the Wikipedia page,” Grantaire reasoned as he fell into step next to Enjolras.

Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “Which is clearly making fun of me.”

Grantaire cleared his throat delicately. “If you’d like to count yourself amongst those who take offense to the truth…”

“Asshole,” Enjolras said, but for some reason, his foul mood was lifted, at least slightly.

Grantaire glanced sideways at him. “So, uh, dare I ask why, exactly, a Wikipedia page posting mostly accurate information about you has got a stick so far up your ass you can taste wood?”

Enjolras snorted. “Poetic.”

“I try,” Grantaire said. “But seriously, the reaction does seem a bit over the top. If it was Courf, sure, I’d expect this level of histrionics, but you’re normally a better sport about this sort of thing.”

“That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me,” Enjolras said mildly.

“Probably because I’m lying, you’re a notorious drama queen and frankly, I’m surprised that little detail didn’t make your Wikipedia page,” Grantaire said cheerfully, and Enjolras couldn’t quite stop his bark of surprised laughter. “That being said, clearly something about it is bothering you, and I figured buttering you up might help.”

Enjolras’s smile faded. “Honestly?” he said. “What I’m most upset about is that it’s about me, with barely a footnote about our work.”

“Right,” Grantaire said. He glanced at Enjolras again. “And naturally, that upsets you because…?”

“Because it’s not about me!” Enjolras burst, his frustration spilling over. “Because it’s never been about me. The whole point of quasi-anonymity is that anyone could be me. Anyone could step into this role and try to change the world.”

Grantaire let out a low whistle. “And you called me poetic,” he said. Enjolras didn’t smile and Grantaire nudged him gently with his elbow. “I think you’re forgetting that while you may have been aiming for anonymity, you’re still an incredibly recognizable figure who hasn’t exactly been camera-shy.”

“Sure, my face may be well known, but not my name, and certainly not my face and my name together,” Enjolras said hotly.

Grantaire was quiet for so long that Enjolras had to look over at him to make sure he was still there. Then, Grantaire shook his head. “The rare valid point,” he said, more to himself than Enjolras.

Enjolras just sighed. As much as he had planned on sulking for the rest of the night, he was finding it more and more difficult with each passing step, as if just venting about it had made it slightly better.

Or maybe that was more about who he’d been venting to.

“Anyway,” he said bracingly, “I’ll get over it, I just need to, you know, feel my feelings.”

“And you’re being very brave about it,” Grantaire assured him.

Enjolras laughed again. “Well, you can head back to the Musain.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” Grantaire said solemnly. “You’re in a fragile state of mind. I better make sure you get home safely.”

Even though Enjolras rolled his eyes, he couldn’t help but smile, just slightly. “You’re missing out on some prime comedy.”

Grantaire winked at him. “You forget,” he said smugly, “I’ve got a phone with 5G and an entire walk to do a dramatic reading.”

Enjolras groaned. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“That’s for me to know and you to spend the rest of your walk worrying about.”

“Asshole,” Enjolras repeated, but he was laughing.

And besides, he suspected Grantaire wasn’t serious.

— — — — —

Over the next few weeks, things with Enjolras’s Wikipedia page took a turn – for the weird.

Despite Enjolras’s multiple attempts to get the page shut down, it continued on its merry way. And worse, it kept being added to by the same anonymous Wikipedia editor who had created it. But bizarrely, while it had originally been mostly accurate, it was quickly becoming flooded with complete bullshit.

Each new edit brought with it a different fabricated detail about Enjolras, some of which were close to the truth (“Enjolras came out publicly via instagram post in the lead-up to the Obergefell ruling” – Enjolras had come out publicly in the tenth grade via Facebook, or, if he was being truly specific, in 2nd Grade when Kaitlyn H. had tried to kiss him and Enjolras had screamed and hidden in the classroom closet), and some of which were just completely wrong (“He wrestled in high school as a heavyweight, weighing in at 250 pounds” and “Described as shorter than average (5’6”) with shoulder-length brown hair, police have been actively searching for Enjolras and his associates for almost a decade”).

Well, that last bit was true, but not so much the description.

Which, based on Enjolras’s now extensive knowledge of Wikipedia’s editing rules, was how whoever was editing his page was getting away with it: by linking to news sources that were also incorrect. For instance, his instagram post had been falsely called his coming out by The Advocate’s round up of notable activists. The story about wrestling was a hilarious mix-up of a picture of Enjolras from a riot with a caption about a high school wrestler in the local paper.

And so on and so forth – each edit was painstaking in being both false and, somehow, verifiable. Which would have been brilliant if it hadn’t given away the entire game.

Because a few days later, one final falsehood was posted.

And there was only one other person in the entire world who knew this one.

“Enjolras’s first brush with the law came in high school, when he was charged as a minor in possession of alcohol, but his father allegedly asked the local authorities to drop the charges,” Enjolras said without preamble, brushing past Grantaire into his apartment.

“Normally I’m really good at keeping up with your trains of thought,” Grantaire said mildly, closing the front door. “But I will need some additional context.”

“My MIP,” Enjolras said, glowering at Grantaire. “The one that I told you about in confidence because you had confided in me about your struggles with drugs and alcohol—”

“That’s a very polite way of putting it,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras ignored him. “The one that only you knew about. Somehow it ended up on my Wikipedia page.”

Grantaire looked a little bit like he wanted to bolt out the door he’d just closed. “Combeferre might have found it in your background check,” he said weakly.

“No, because the charges were dismissed, but not because of my father,” Enjolras said impatiently. “Which means the only person it could’ve been was you.”

Grantaire paled but didn’t try to deny it, and Enjolras took a deep breath before saying, “And which means the only question that I have is why.”

“It wasn’t supposed to go live,” Grantaire blurted.

“What?”

Grantaire worried his lower lip between his teeth. “The Wikipedia page. It wasn’t supposed to be published.”

Enjolras blinked. “So it was you.”

Even though he had known it, he hadn’t really reconciled himself with it until hearing it more or less confirmed. Grantaire nodded. “It started as a joke,” he said. “We’d had a fight, I don’t even remember what about, and you said my sources were one rung below Wikipedia. So I figured, y’know, I’d show you what Wikipedia’s sources are like.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Which was for the best, since Grantaire barreled onward. “I never actually intended on publishing it, but I clicked the wrong button and didn’t even notice until, well, you did. And at that point, putting the genie back in the bottle was pretty much out of the question.”

“But then—” Enjolras broke off, still struggling to put his thoughts into anything resembling coherence. Of the million questions he had, the only one he could manage was, “Why all the edits?”

Grantaire shrugged. “It occurred to me that I could at least use this accidental platform for some good.”

“And there’s some good in telling the whole world that I’m 5 foot 6, 250 pounds and have shoulder-length brown hair?” Enjolras said dryly.

“I mean…” Grantaire shrugged again. “I figured it may help the FBI in their search for you.”

He said it innocently, and Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “And why the hell would they believe that description?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Grantaire said, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “After all, it’s on Wikipedia.”

Enjolras couldn’t quite stop his own smile as realization hit. “You laid quite the convincing trail of inaccuracies for them.”

Grantaire ducked his head. “Well,” he said, “never let it be said I did nothing for the Cause.”

“For the Cause?”

Grantaire met his eyes, his smile crooked. “For the only cause I believe in, anyway.”

There were a great number of things that Enjolras could say to that, but there was only one thing he wanted to do.

And so he did, closing the space between him and Grantaire, reaching out to tip Grantaire’s chin just slightly upward to kiss him. Grantaire’s hand closed in his shirt, pulling him even closer as his mouth opened against Enjolras’s with a sigh.

Suddenly, Grantaire laughed, his lips curving into a grin against Enjolras’s. “Who knew a fucking Wikipedia page was all it would take,” he said, with something like wonder.

“Please,” Enjolras murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. “If you’d’ve tried this even six months ago, I would’ve just kicked your ass.”

“So what’s changed?”

So much more than Enjolras could ever articulate, the least of which was that he finally had tangible evidence of just how dedicated Grantaire could be – when it was something he cared about, at least.

But he settled for saying, after kissing Grantaire’s once more, “My height and weight, apparently.”

Grantaire laughed. “Yeah,” he said, “I suppose there is that.”

“By the way?”

“Yeah?” Grantaire said, his voice barely a whisper.

“If I see anything about this on Wikipedia, I really will kick your ass.”

Grantaire just laughed again. “Deal.”

— — — — —

The next day, there was a single addition to the Wikipedia page:

Spouse: Patria (m. 2023)

#exr #grantaire #enjolras #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #fanfiction #modern au #les miserables #developing relationship #wikipedia #hijinks and shenanigans #misinformation

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moonywings · 3 months

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anyone got any les misérables fics with Joly & Grantaire friendship??? i feel like R needs so much therapy and talking about his depression and drinking issues with his friend could be so so helpful

additionnally, if you got enjoltaire hurt-comfort i'm taking it too i need to heal from canon

also good valvert recommendations...i think they're gay bye

#les mis #les miserables #joly #grantaire #enjolras #enjoltaire #jean valjean #javert #valvert #fanfiction recommendation

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autumnalmess · 4 months

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Making a booknook of the Musain!!!!

This is my vague reference photo:

But I have a creative vision so we'll see how this goes. I found this cute paper to use for the wallpaper of the bottom floor. �� and I used lollipop sticks and stained them with watercolours to create the floorboards

Post hand-painting cobblestones after using hot glue to create texture. (It looks less shiny now because there it's still drying)

The creation of teeny tiny windows 😌

I then added a fireplace to give me some outline of interior design before I start building the exterior and the second floor. I'm also adding in posters and a table with bottles of wine to the bottom floor

I'll update as it goes along !!

#TRUST THE PROCESS #apologies to anyone reading my fanfiction im so sorry i WILL update (twice because im now technically two weeks behind) but miss adhd isnt #letting me do anything else but this so bear with me sorry xxx #les miserables #les mis #victor hugo #les misposting #enjolras #enjoltaire #grantaire #courfeyrac #booklr #les amis #les amis de l'abc #booknook

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motions1ckn3ss · 21 days

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when the ex ballerina in me wants to read exr ballet aus but the ex ballerina in me also might throw up at the mention of ballet (there are two wolves inside of you)

#anyway i'm currently reading liberté egalité demi-plié by darrenjolras #ex ballerina grantaire is something that can be so special to me <3 #les mis #les miserables #enjoltaire #exr #enjolras #grantaire #fanfiction #au

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bottlesandbarricades · 2 years

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Real ones know Joseph Quinn as that bitter scheming twink, who was left sobbing on a roof top not long after Christmas and we got absolutely no resolution to that cause the bbc just didn't make anymore of the show

#joseph quinn #I wish Dickensian got another series #Arthur Havisham my beloved pain in the arse #I'm glad he is getting some love honestly cause he's very talented #we don't talk about bbc les mis enjolras and the tash #rip to anyone who had to read my Meriwether Compeyson / Arthur Havisham fanfiction

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quoth-the-goblin-nevermore · 1 month

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Just getting this back out there again. :)

I’m almost done. Woohoo! It’s been a time writing Unwilling Apollo, but I’m glad to wrap it up soon.

Total word count (counting current WIP chapter): 40522

Chapters: 14/15 (Currently halfway done with the last chapter!) Also working on a one shot following the ‘canon’ after UA.

Brief Description: Grantaire makes a drunken mistake and Enjolras realizes something about him that he already knew. Hurt/Comfort ensues. How would the barricade differ if Enjolras had something to stay alive for, and Grantaire was permitted to do more than simply die by him?

#les mis #enjolras #grantaire #les amis #enjoltaire #barricade boys #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 #ao3 link #exr #les mis fanfic #Unwilling Apollo #ao3fic #les miserables

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stardancerluv · 2 months

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A Time to Love and to Fight

Part 30

Summary: Interesting moments for Enjolras and his girl…

Notes/Warnings: No warnings…except some angst but lots of fluff!!!

⭐️Wow…part 30!! Omg!!! ⭐️ We have come so long with Enjolras….not over yet!

❤️s, reblogs, comments & feedback is always welcome!

You giggled at your reflection, you eyed it up and down. You were going to be a mommy. Reaching, you grabbed one of the fresh tarts. You could eat them forever.

“Do you like these too?” You laid a hand on your stomach. “Let us take the air.”

Going to your table beside the bed you grabbed a book. Then holding your dress you went out to where the doors led to the garden.

It still needed a lot of work. And honestly the idea of paying someone to design and then up keep it was rather excessive. This was your first season, perhaps next year.

You smiled seeing that Angela had made your bench, your little nook more comfy for you and the baby. The pillows and blankets were a welcome sight.

*******

Your heard the ground crunching and looked up from your book. You smiled.

“Yes, Angela?”

The house keeper smiled. “Sir Julien is still in town, however a letter and a package arrived for him.”

“Oh! How nice he will be happy to receive mail.”

“Yes? Shall I put them in his study then?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

********

Enjolras, walked through the market. Memories danced in his head, as he reminded walking through that one market with you. You had been as fresh and as lovely as the white blossoms that swept through the garden.

“Oh!” He replied and grimaced as yet another person bumped into him. It made him remember, he bit his cheek. He had Gavroche walk you home. His broken, bloodied body took shape and then faded fast.

It made his anxiousness of you wanting to go to the market with him tug harder onto him. People had already stepped on his feet and even bumped harder into him contacting with the table. That could hurt the baby and you. He would not let that happen.

As he shifted the satchel that slung on shoulder from one to the other. It was already filled with some rather nice vegetables and fruits. His nose twitched as he grew closer to where the the meats salted and other wise were on display for the choosing.

*******

He brought the satchel and the meats directly to the kitchen. Those that tended to his house were getting used to him not also helping with some of these tasks.

When he had been a youth, the servants his parents had would serve him and his mother. But now as a grown man, and after doing much on his own he could not go back to the ways of his youth. He compromised and let them cook, bake and help you but moments like this, he insisted upon.

He was just wiping his hands from the meats when Angela came into the kitchen from the root cellar.

“How nice I do enjoy when you bring things that I shall change into something you and the lady shall enjoy.” She smiled.

He nodded. “Tell me where is she?”

The older woman chuckled. “Oh sorry.”

He made a dismissive gesture as she apologized for the informal response to his question. He knew, there was no keeping you in the bedroom or even one of the parlors with the weather as nice as it was.

She smiled. “She is in the gardens, comfortable among the pillows and blankets we brought her. And she has a book for her mind.”

“Good.”

Turning, he made his way to you.

*******

He stopped just shy of where he knew your bench was and peered around a shrub to gaze upon you. His heart lifted and smile graced his lips. The sight, pushed away the gray cloud of the past away.

Your lips were as elegant as artist’s brush stroke. He felt blessed to know how they feel. He longer for another kiss. He would have one now here in the gardens.

His boots made the ground crunch and the tall grass, parted a he closed the distance.

“My love!” You called out sweetly.

His heart warmed as he watched you hold out your arms to him. How you looked up and your eyes twinkled.

Soon, he was beside you and easily he held you close. Sighing, he rested his chin on the top of your head.

“Have you had a good morning?”

“I have.” You gently pulled back. “I enjoyed some tarts and came out to read.”

He rubbed your arm. “I am happy to hear it. I would have woken you before departing but you were such a sweet sight, so soundly asleep and gentle hand on your stomach.”

You drew a little closer, “You could have woken me.”

He tucked a stray strand behind your ear. “Perhaps, next time.”

You took his hand and he drew it to your lips, he smiled lightly as he felt you press a kiss to his palm.

“Oh! I almost forgot some mail did arrive for you. Angela has brought it to your study.”

Inwardly he stilled. “Did you see if it was from mother or Oliver?”

You shook your head. “It is not my place.”

He pressed his lips together. “We’re in this together.”

You shrugged. “Yes, but you deserve some privacy.”

“Thank you.” He looked you over. “Shall we go in and perhaps, have some sandwiches made. I can tell you all about the market and the e butcher.”

“And maybe we can discuss what do with the nursery?”

He chuckled. “Yes, we can do that too.”

*******

Stopping outside, his office he decided he had better see what the mail brought.

“Ange, have you left me any tarts?”

You stopped and giggled. “There are a few that remain.”

He cupped your cheek. “It is nice to discover how my ange, is sweet and how she enjoys sweet treats.”

“You have given me a chance to enjoy them once again.”

“I am glad.” He eyed the doorknob and then looked back at you. “Please, tell Angela then that I would like one with tea.”

You giggled. “I will enjoy one with you before we have our sandwiches.”

“Good. All of these tarts will make our baby just as sweet as their mother.”

His hand drifted from your cheek and it ghosted the side of your stomach.

You smiled brightly. “I hope so. But I want them to be brave and strong like you.”

He gave you a half smile. “We’ll see.”

*******

When he saw how large the package was, he strode back to the door and locked it. A pit of nervousness blossomed and began to grow.

He opened the envelop first. He swallowed, seeing his father’s scrawling across the paper.

Son,

Knew it was your heart that would bring you back to us. Grateful, you got that from your mother.

A solider, came by looking for you. Apparently, you have an edge. It has balanced your heart.

He is looking for you. He is on a ship. Headed for the new word. Anger has consumed him. His ship docks in London. He found us. I believe he will find you.

I sent my dueling sabers. You were always good behind a sword, if he finds you choose your battle. Ask for a duel.

In conclusion, be firm and a few tears never hurt you. Your mother approves of your wife so for once I will blindly approve of her as well. Keep her in your heart and keep your head clear, if that man finds you and accepts the duel.

Your mother sends her love.

Father

He chewed on his thumb. Enjolras, never ever fretted. He always knew the right course of action. He was always victorious. He always could look ahead and see the possible outcomes. All of which usually would be end his favor.

He was certain that sometimes he heard the whistle of Death’s scythe as it sliced through the air barely missing him. Or he’d feel as Death’s boney fingers graze his sleeve as he would attempt to yank him from this world.

Pulling back the heavy velvet material, two swords were nestled there. As he looked at the polished metal before him; he couldn’t see the future. It blurred, became hazy. He had to keep his eyes open. Could he write adequate letters. Could he make peace with you, and his unborn child that still grew in your belly. He did not know.

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punk-in-docs · 2 years

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Hi babes! Absolutely LOVE the Eddie Super Freak series! You are a seriously talented author 🥰

Do you have a tag list for the series/ anything Joe Quinn? 🥰😬🤓 xXx

I do my love. I can put you on there if you like. Be prepared to be bothered by me to the end of eternity. 💜

#punkwrites #eddie munson #i would die for this man #thank you 💕💕💕#joseph quinn #enjolras fanfiction #Prince Paul #detective quinn #thank you babe

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phantomstatistician · 4 days

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Fandom: Les Miserables

Character: Eponine Thenardier

Sample Size: 2,784 stories

Source: AO3

#eponine thenardier #cosette fauchelevent #combeferre #enjolras #marius pontmercy #montparnasse #grantaire #courfeyrac #feuilly #bahorel #les miserables #les mis #fanfiction #ao3 #statistics #phantom statistician

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sharkemojis · 5 months

Text

favourite part about writing fanfiction: seeing my little vision come to life and making my faves be funny and gay

least favourite part about writing fanfiction: i have to write it

#les miserables #les mis #grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #les amis #exr #courfeyrac #combeferre #fanfiction #fanfic #wattpad #ao3 #writers on tumblr #writing humor

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kjack89 · 2 months

Text

Timeless

Because it may have been almost a month, but what is time, anyway.

The air in the antique shop was thick with dust, and Combeferre coughed into the crook of his arm before giving Enjolras a look. “Remind me again what we’re looking for,” he said, picking a particularly tacky snowglobe off of the shelf without bothering to hide his look of revulsion.

“A gift for Grantaire,” Enjolras repeated for easily the twelfth time as he examined the spines of a stack of ancient books with yellowed pages.

“Right,” Combeferre said, replacing the snowglobe and sharing a knowing glance with Courfeyrac. “Why?”

Enjolras glanced up at them and away again. “Does it matter?”

Courfeyrac leaned against a shelf that creaked ominously, and he hastily straightened. “Well, it’s not Christmas,” he reasoned.

“Not Grantaire’s birthday, either,” Combeferre added.

“And no judgment, Enj, but it’s a little late for Valentine’s Day.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together, glaring a garish painting of a sad clown as if it had personally offended him. “It’s an apology gift,” he said sourly, staring determinedly away from Courfeyrac and Combeferre so that he didn’t have to see the look they inevitably gave each other.

He was already familiar with it.

“Uh-oh,” Courfeyrac said, with barely suppressed glee masquerading as concern. “What are you apologizing for?”

Enjolras sighed. “I said something stupid.”

“No shit,” Combeferre said, uncharacteristically blunt, not that Enjolras didn’t likely deserve it. “But what specifically?”

Enjolras sighed again, raking a hand through his blond curls before telling them reluctantly, “We were watching some movie, or at least, it was on in the background while I was doing work. Some kind of rom-com thing and it ended with the couple old and happy together, and Grantaire made some comment about how maybe that’d be us someday and—”

Courfeyrac stared at him, all traces of amusement vanished. “Don’t tell me.”

“I just pointed out that statistically—”

“Enjolras,” Combeferre and Courfeyrac groaned simultaneously.

Enjolras winced. “I mean, the world’s probably going to be uninhabitable long before we’re elderly—”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes so hard it looked physically painful. “Mm, yeah, whisper that in his ear, see how it goes.”

“I didn’t realize he was trying to be romantic,” Enjolras muttered, the tips of his ears flaring as red as his favorite hoodie as he continued to avoid meeting Combeferre or Courfeyrac’s eyes.

“Of course you didn’t,” Combeferre sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Enjolras huffed another sigh. “And now I need to make it up to him,” he said, determined to force the conversation back to something productive.

Combeferre just gave him a look. “And you decided an antique shop was the best place to find a gift because…?”

Shrugging, Enjolras picked a small ceramic ornament off the shelf, turning it over in his hands as he tried to figure out what the hell it was supposed to be. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “He loves this place, so I figured there must be something here worth getting.”

Courfeyrac made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a hastily-stifled cackle. “Pretty sure he likes the bar next door better,” he said.

“Probably,” Enjolras said, “but I can’t exactly get that for him, can I?”

Though at the rate he was going, that might actually be the only gift big enough to make it up to Grantaire.

“Fair enough,” Combeferre said, ever the voice of reason. “Why don’t we split up, cover more ground?”

Enjolras made a face. “Why does this feel like the start of a slasher movie?”

Courfeyrac smirked. “Probably because if you don’t succeed, your relationship’s going to be the first thing to die?”

Enjolras glared at him. “Thanks for your support,” he said dryly.

“Anytime,” Courfeyrac said, saccharine sweet.

Enjolras rolled his eyes as he turned to survey the assorted crap that evidently passed for antiques. He knew he should be more grateful that his friends were willing to put up with him and his now decades of emotional incompetence, but in his defense, they didn’t have to be such assholes about the whole thing.

Though, in this case, Enjolras definitely deserved it.

He scowled as he drifted somewhat aimlessly down the aisle, not even sure what he was looking for. His eyes fell on a tattered cardboard box perched precariously on the end of one shelf, or more accurately, on the neon green postcard taped to the front.

PHOTOS AND LITHOGRAPHS, it proclaimed. TWENTY-FIVE CENTS EACH.

Enjolras had no idea who in their right mind would buy random old photos of people they’d never met or places they’d never been, but he intrigued enough that he pulled the box off the shelf, shuffling through the untidy stacks until he pulled one out at random.

It was a black and white photo of two young men in dinner standing next to each in front of an old-fashioned car. He flipped it over and he could just make out, written very faintly on the back, ‘Before the big dance, 1944.’

He frowned as he turned the photo back over, but before he could toss it back in the box, he caught sight of the familiar half-smile the shorter of the two men wore. A smile that Enjolras had kissed more times than he could count, and without warning, he could see it in his head like a memory he didn’t even know he’d had.

“Hey, kid,” Grantaire said, giving Enjolras that little smile as he leaned against the fence.

“Don’t call me kid,” Enjolras said, breathless. “I’m eighteen, and besides, I graduate soon.”

“I know,” Grantaire said, raking his eyes slowly down Enjolras’s body, his smile sharpening. “Besides, you don’t look much like a kid tonight.”

Still, Enjolras hesitated. “You don’t have to come with me, you know. I know you’re shipping out soon, and I doubt you want to spend your time with a bunch of kids…”

Grantaire raised both eyebrows. “Didn’t we just establish you’re not a kid?” he said easily. “Besides, someone’s got to keep an eye on. Especially if Courfeyrac spikes the punch again.”

Enjolras half-smiled at the memory, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wish I was going with you.”

“I don’t,” Grantaire said flatly. “Hard enough fighting the Nazis without having to worry about you getting shot or blown up.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “You’ll write?”

“As often as I can,” Grantaire promised, reaching for his hand. “And I’ll be back before you know it.”

It was a hollow promise – they both knew too many young men who would never return from the war in Europe. But before Enjolras could point that out, Grantaire dropped his hand, straightening. “Mr. and Mrs. Enjolras,” he said with what he clearly thought was a winning smile.

“Oh, Grantaire,” Enjolras’s mother said. “I didn’t realize you were going tonight.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Thought I’d give the kids a little treat,” he said easily.

Enjolras’s father laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “And hopefully keep them out of trouble,” he said.

“Of course,” Grantaire said, winking at Enjolras, who rolled his eyes.

“Wait, before you go, I want to get a picture!” Enjolras’s mother said, and Enjolras groaned.

“Ma, not tonight—”

“Just one,” she said, and Enjolras’s father frogmarched them both over to pose awkwardly in front of the car. “See, all done.”

Enjolras just sighed and looked at Grantaire. “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered.

Grantaire grinned. “I’ll make sure I bring him back in one piece,” he promised Enjolras’s parents, who both just smiled and waved.

Enjolras and Grantaire made it all the way down the sidewalk and around the corner before Grantaire pressed Enjolras up against the side of a garage to kiss him. “Sorry,” he said. “You really do look good, kid.”

“So do you,” Enjolras murmured, and Grantaire kissed him once more before releasing him.

“What do you think?” he said, casually. “Make an appearance at the dance and then you can come back to mine to say goodbye properly?”

If Enjolras had his way, he wouldn’t say goodbye at all. But since that wasn’t an option, he settled for nodding. “Yeah,” he said. “Sounds like a plan.”

Back in the antique shop, Enjolras shook his head, feeling almost dizzy as the memory – or whatever it had been – faded, leaving a strange sort of buzzing sound in his ears. He set the photo down with trembling fingers, and then, like an idiot, reached back into the box again for another.

This time he emerged with a color photograph that looked like someone had torn it out of a book based on the caption in tiny print underneath the picture. ‘Portrait of a young man writing a letter,’ the caption read, dry and boring like any art book Enjolras had the misfortune of flipping through, ‘ca. 1650. Artist unknown.’

Enjolras frowned down at the picture, letting out a sigh of relief that it didn’t look anything like Grantaire.

At least, until he realized that it did look, at least a little bit, like himself.

Enjolras’s chest felt tight as he scanned Grantaire’s latest missive. Where most of his friends sent updates on how their efforts were going to liberate Enjolras from the cursed marriage his parents had foisted upon him, Grantaire’s alone were like a balm in these dark times. They weren’t full of hope, as Enjolras would never expect from the cynic, but they were full of certitude, of no promises but instead guarantees that no man could stand between Grantaire’s blade and Enjolras.

“Patience is a virtue neither of us possess, but I must beg you for what little you can spare me,” the latest letter read. “Dark is the night but soon we shall be reunited in the dawn. And should we fail, know that my heart will belong to you for the rest of time, and none may cleave my soul from yours when we depart this earth.”

Enjolras traced his finger over the scrawled ‘R’ at the bottom of the page, lifting his finger to brush against his lips. Only then did he sit up in his chair, straighten his shoulders, and grab his own quill to begin to write his response.

Again, Enjolras resurfaced in the antique store, and he reached out automatically to grab the shelf, steadying himself against it. His head swam, and he had no explanation for what was going on, save for the obvious that he’d finally cracked under pressure and lost his entire mind.

It didn’t feel like he was going crazy, though. He was still him, still in this cursed store, still trying to find some kind of apology gift and instead unearthing bizarre memories of, what, alternate lives?

A hysterical giggle rose in his throat and he did his best to tamp it down, instead reaching for the box to return it to its spot on the shelf.

Instead, he caught sight of a lithograph on the top of the pile of pictures, a charming little scene of what could only be a Parisian café a century or so ago, and despite now having two very distinct reasons to know this was a bad idea, he lifted it out of the box.

He couldn’t even pretend to be surprised at what happened next.

Enjolras squinted up at the sun, too high in the sky already for how much he had to accomplish that day.

But as he strode past a café, someone hailed him, delaying him all the further. “Enjolras! Join me, won’t you.”

Enjolras scowled at the dark-haired man seated at a table outside of the café, his chin propped in his hand as he grinned at him.. “I see you are putting your morning to good use,” Enjolras said sourly. “Alas that some of us have more important matters to which we must attend.”

Grantaire’s grin widened. “And yet what may be more important than sating your hunger and thirst?” he asked with feigned innocence. “Even gods take the time to feast with mortals.”

“I suppose it is well that I am not a god, then.”

He turned to leave but paused when Grantaire called after him, “All the more reason to join me, then. As I doubt I merit the company of gods regardless.”

Enjolras sighed, turning back to again refute him, but before he could say anything, Grantaire straightened, his grin sobering into something more genuine, something that made Enjolras’s chest feel inexplicably warm. “Please,” he said, something soft and almost sweet in the word. “Would the world cease to spin should you spend a half hour letting someone take care of you?”

“Is that what this is?” Enjolras asked, forgetting to be harsh.

Grantaire shrugged. “A first attempt, at least.” His grin returned. “How am I doing thus far?”

“That remains to be seen,” Enjolras said, hesitating for only a moment before, reluctantly, sitting down across from him. “Very well. You have a half hour. Do your best.”

“For you, I always do,” Grantaire said, his voice low, and Enjolras was suddenly aware that the warmth on his cheeks had nothing to do with the sun.

At least this time, he didn’t feel like he was going to collapse upon returning to himself, which was a small sort of comfort. He did feel a little shaky, which probably explained how his renewed attempt at putting the box on the shelf instead sent it falling to the floor.

Enjolras groaned as he bent to pick up all the pictures and shove them back in the box, hoping this didn’t mean he’d suddenly experience a hundred memories at once. Luckily, he remained entirely in the present, and he hastily gathered all the photos, placing them back in the box, which he successfully returned to the shelf.

Only then did he notice a photo he’d missed, and he sighed again as he bent to pick it up, glancing automatically at it. This was a color photo, much more recent if a little out of focus, of two older men kissing, and he flipped it over to see if anything was on the back.

In bold Sharpie strokes, someone had written ‘FINALLY! Fifty years in the making. June 29, 2015.’

Enjolras felt the breath catch in his throat. Three days after Obergefell.

He waited for the memory to overwhelm him yet again, but this time, it didn’t come, and he frowned down at it, a little surprised. Maybe it was because neither man particularly resembled him or Grantaire.

Or maybe it was because he and Grantaire had to live this memory themselves.

It was a stupid thought that somehow still had tears pricking in Enjolras’s eyes, and he shook his head, starting to return the photo to the box before hesitating.

He knew what he needed to give Grantaire.

— — — — —

“I bought these.”

Grantaire glanced up from where he was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone. “Hell of an opening,” he said mildly, sitting up as Enjolras sat down next to him. He accepted the paper bag that Enjolras held out, his brow furrowing, and he carefully shook out the four pictures Enjolras had purchased from the antique store, fanning them out across the table.

He blinked down at them and back up at Enjolras, his brow furrowing, just slightly. “I don’t understand,” he admitted. “You bought four random pictures?”

Enjolras jerked a nod and then took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize.”

Grantaire looked up at him, his expression neutral. “I’m listening.”

Enjolras wet his lips before telling Grantaire, “I meant what I said.”

Grantaire sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ok,” he said, with something like patience, “maybe we need to first circle back to what the concept of an apology means—”

But Enjolras refused to be deterred from his point. “You and I both know that we aren’t guaranteed to get old together, let alone separately,” he said, and Grantaire fell silent, something tightening in his expression, something that Enjolras wanted desperately to smooth away with his fingertips. “Hell, we’re not even guaranteed to make it to next week, let alone past November, or five years from now or what have you.”

“Stirring oration as always, Enj—”

“But what I should have said,” Enjolras continued, “and didn’t, is that it doesn’t matter how much time we have together. What matters is that we have any time at all.” He reached for Grantaire’s hand, a little surprised when Grantaire let him take it. “Whether it’s five years or fifty years, any time that I have with you will be worth it. I don’t know if we’re going to get a happy ending, but I’ll be damned if we don’t get a happy right now with each other. And that– that’s what I should have said.”

He had faltered a little at the end, but it was worth it regardless for the look in Grantaire’s eyes, for the small half-smile that lifted just one corner of his mouth, for the way his fingers tightened around Enjolras’s.

Enjolras took another deep breath before telling him, “I went to the antique store to get you a present to say that I’m sorry, but instead I got these.” He gestured at the pictures still spread across the coffee table. “Something about them– I can’t explain it, but I look at them, and I see us.” He shrugged, a little helplessly. “I know that between the two of us, I’m the believer, but I have to admit, until I saw these, I don’t know if I truly believed that it really is me and you, forever. Whatever that forever ends up looking like.”

He squeezed Grantaire’s hand before telling him, “So I didn’t get these for you. I got them for me, to remind myself of that. Because the only gift that I can give you that matters worth a damn is time.”

Grantaire’s smile was soft and his eyes were just a little bit wet, and he shook his head. “Enjolras—”

He broke off as if he couldn’t quite decide what to say, and Enjolras added, “And I really am sorry that I didn’t say this the first time around.”

Grantaire shook his head again. “Well,” he managed, his voice thick, “you said it now. C’mere.” He tugged Enjolras to him, reaching up with his free hand to cup Enjolras’s cheek, to brush his thumb along his jawline as he leaned in to kiss him. “I love you.”

Enjolras kissed back before telling him, “I love you, too.”

Grantaire kissed him once more, his lips curving into a smile against Enjolras’s before he leaned back to ask, innocently, “So does that mean you didn’t actually get me a present, or…?”

Enjolras sighed, the exasperated, endlessly fond sigh of a man in love with the biggest pain in the ass he’d ever met. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

And for once, Grantaire did. After all, they had time to worry about presents later.

They had all the time in the world.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #flashbacks #kind of sort of #idk what to call them #arguments #making up #fluff #idiots in love

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