#enjolras x reader

[pedgito]

Modern! Enjolras loves it when you're dressed up to go somewhere to a fancy dinner or if he has to go to a meeting that morning and you both have a shag fest and you leave lipstick all over his dick. He keeps it like that for the rest of the day, not even caring if it stains his underwear just to be reminded of you. He comes home so needy and ready to go again because you've been on his mind all day. (I may need a fic about this if you're up to it...)

author’s note: okay, i’ve seen so much about modern!enjolras all over here and twitter and i’m obsessed. i’ve kinda just integrated him into current society the way that made the most sense but this fic is very much not about that, trust me lol.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), canon divergent, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving, f mentioned) modern!enjolras, married/established relationship, just lots of smut with no plot pls forgive me.

word count: 1.6k

His rhythm of work was inherently stressful.

Long, grueling meetings that sometimes got him nowhere, stunlocked on a single argument that could last for days, if not weeks, a constant state of trying to prove himself—he was younger but that didn’t make him any less wise.

Although, he was in fact, insatiable. It was always more intense during the big company dinners, thousands of pitches to be made, conversation to be had, all kinds of pressure resting on his shoulders.

But there you were, the one thing that kept him above water.

Some days he just needed an ear, someone to listen to him talk and rant for hours at a time, and you were there. Other times he needed a nice meal and quiet time with you, cuddled up on the couch in your spacey loft apartment—he made good money despite the stresses he was under; being such a vivid, passionate politician paid off in those ways.

On occasion, he’d really need that boost of energy, enthusiasm—or confidence, whatever he liked to call it. But really, it was just an excuse to have you bent over the counter in your kitchen, wine glass perched against his lips as his trousers pooled around his ankles, your dress lifted up just far enough that he could gain access, his large hand disappearing under the material as he gripped at your hip, fingers digging into the flesh so tight it makes you grunt in pain, the sharp slap of his hips pressing you against the cold marble.

“Tell me about your day,” He demands, emphasizing his question with a rough thrust that has your palms flattening against the countertop, “did you get much done for the dinner next week?”

Right—the dinner. The dinner Enjolras had so graciously agreed to host, forgetting that all of the planning would fall on you between his busy schedule and complete disorganization. He was a lovely person, a great husband, but he wouldn’t be able to function without you.

You nod weakly, murmuring a soft, “Uh huh.”

“Then tell me.” He urges, swallowing down the last sip of wine before allowing it to clatter amongst the other dirty dishes—the ones you’d been in the middle of washing when he came home, very insistent as he pulled your underwear down, red and dark like the silk ascot that was tied so pristine around his neck.

They were his favorite.

“I was—I was figuring pasta and desserts.” Enjolras nods, moving you upright with his hand over your lower abdomen, head resting over your shoulder as he breathes into your ear, low and gravely as he’s nearing his own end faster than usual.

The pent up frustration and stress was the problem.

“And lots of alcohol,” You stress, a sated smile pulling at your face as his fingers find your clit, rubbing at the small bundle of nerves until you’re gripping the clean white of his dress shirt, rutting your ass even further against him and shoving him as deep as he could go, “get them—get them drunk and make them spill all their secrets, right?”

Enjolras laughs, a confirmation to your question and good sign that he was relaxing a bit, his pace unfaltering as he groaned tightly, gritting his teeth in an attempt to hold off his own orgasm until you reached yours—luckily you weren’t far off.

“Still have that speech tonight?” Another subtle nod, “Good. Make me come and it'll be that much harder for you to forget about me while you’re talking about—laws and taxes and whatever boring stuff you boys go on about.”

Enjolras tsks softly, “We’re trying to get fair and equal opportunity in less fortunate communities, love. It’s a lot more than just taxes and laws—are you sure you’ve been listening to me?”

“I’m teasing.” You pout, his fingers quickening as your warm, tight walls clench around him, body tingling with euphoria as your orgasm hits you, moaning loud and desperate as your toes nearly lift off the floor at how hard he’s fucking you now, free hand turning your face to meet him in a messy kiss, red lipstick smearing over his plush pink lips and pale cheeks.

He comes quietly like this, mouth closed over yours, as any sounds are swallowed up by you, cunt filled to the brim with cum, thick spurts as his hips slowed to a stop, eyebrows furrowed slightly as he glared at you, your face turned up in a devious smirk.

You were up to something, he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“No games, darling.” He practically coos, thumb rubbing over your warm cheeks, “What are you planning?”

He slips out slowly, carefully as you turn to him.

“How long do you need?”

You already knew the answer—only a few minutes.

He was insatiable, as you’d said.

Enjolras tilts his head slightly, a little amused as you crowd him against the island, leaving you nestled in the small space there, bare feet pressed against the hardwood floor.

He’d have to leave again soon, only getting undressed enough to feel comfortable for a brief time.

“A minute or two.” He responds, letting you unbutton his shirt, step by step, delicate fingers working their way down. You kiss his clavicle once, leaving a trail of lipstick stained kisses as you trailed down, careful not to stain his shirt.

“Tell me about your day.” You insist, a deep chuckle in response at your demand.

“So much of the same,” He sighs, sifting gentle fingers through your hair, watching as you sunk to your knees before him, his softening dick slowly rising again, kisses trailing down his thighs, around his groin, leaving all the evidence of you in their wake, “really hoping this dinner proves some effort on my part—they still think I’m naive, some kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“Well, you did come from money, Enjolras.” You remind, “You parents were well-known, you've been spoonfed your whole life with no consequences—but you’ve proven so much.”

There’s a soft head pat of appreciation as you peer up at him.

“No regular man could care about a women’s pleasure that much,” You joke, watching his face split into a grin, “or treat them as sweetly as you do, darling. You’re so unselfish it scares me sometimes.”

You grab him tightly, rubbing your thumb on the vein the runs underneath, pulling back the skin of his uncut cock as your tongue darts out, licking slowly around the thick head.

“Not sure I have anything left.” He says honestly, cradling your head regardless, hand slowly trailing to cup underneath your chin, feeling him stretch out your mouth, nudging his cock a few inches deeper as you part your lips. “But, I’ll try my best.”

And he does, being as obedient as he can as you take your time, having to resist the urge to fuck your face right then, bring you to the edge until you’re drooling around his cock and in tears, still begging for him to give you everything he had.

His moans are soft and low but long, fingers squeezing at your hair when you move too deep too quick, his hips rocking subtly with your mouth as you swallow him.

“Fuckfuck—“ He curses, free hand gripping the island until his knuckles are white, his cock pulsing against your tongue. “You’re fucking mad, you know that?”

You nod slightly, lips pressing to leave a red ring of lipstick around his cock as he feels himself approach his second orgasm—it’s quick and fleeting, high off the heels of his previous one but it’s something, and he really can’t resist the sight of your mouth around his dick.

An hour later he’s back out the door, meeting coworkers for dinner and regretting the choice the moment he kisses you goodbye, your still disheveled figure departing back into the apartment.

And it doesn’t help that he has to think about his body littered in small reminders of you, devouring you the moment he gets home that night, dragging you to the edge of the bed and going down on you until you can’t take it anymore, shoving his face away in blissful agony.

He promises to let it be for a week, a time to focus on the busy things you’d had planned—and it’s torture, specifically for him. He notices your tighter outfits for work, the ones that hug your body just right.

You’re doing it on purpose and he knows it.

So, come the fancy dinner Enjolras had promised to his coworkers and important peers above him, he can’t help but take a moment as everyone is downing the alcohol in troves, the low roar of old, classic music—the kind that he loved so much, and idle conversation—that he shoves you in the small half-bath, forcing the thick material of his ascot into your mouth as he lifts you onto the sink and fucks you like he’s been waiting years for this, leaving light, purple bite marks that will be an absolute pain to explain later.

But it doesn’t matter, because Enjolras could do just about anything and you’d wear it with pride—the confidence he oozed was contagious and ever apparent, a salacious grin on his face as he stared at you, your eyes falling shut from how intense the pleasure was.

“Quiet, darling.” He warns, “I am a man of my word, I’m just giving you what you asked for—as if I didn’t know what you were trying to do all week.”

“You’re all the same,” You patronize playfully, “so weak for women the second they pay you any attention.”

“I’m only weak for you, mon amour.”

He doesn’t leave your side the rest of the night either, always a gentle hand on your thigh under the dinner table during the most dull conversation, reminding you that despite his course of career, everything about him was so much more exhilarating in comparison.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #bbc!enjolras #enjolras #modern!enjolras #my writing #joseph quinn rpf #bbc les mis #enjolras x reader #enjolras x fem!reader #enjolras smut #enjolras x you #enjolras x y/n #eddie munson smut

[rocknrollbabe14]

I Wanna Be Yours (Joseph x Reader)

@josephs-quinns

Author's Note: I did not heavily proof read this as I am posting this before work. This will be 2-4 parts not sure yet. Very cliche' but super cute. So far, no major warnings except maybe some lust. So I will keep the rating adult because it will change. Also, I am not from England so please forgive me if anything is not accurate.

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Once again, thank you to @josephs-quinns for the header. 🥺

It was a crazy idea when your friends had first mentioned it. A trip to London in the United Kingdom. You had never been outside of the United States. Now, you found yourself in a completely different country going on a morning coffee run. The time change had really kicked your ass, jet lag beginning to take its toll on you. London was six hours ahead of you, really screwing up your sleep schedule. It took your friends forever to get you out of bed and motivated just enough to get coffee. You somehow managed to put some make up on and look halfway presentable. It would take you at least a day to get adjusted.

Nerves took precedent over you as you opened the door to the coffee shop, the aroma of fresh, hot coffee hitting your nose. Just the smell alone was causing you to perk up slightly. Even though the people in the UK spoke English, you were nervous about your accent. You knew you’d stick out like a sore thumb. 

“What can I get you?”, the barista asked, her English accent very apparent.

“Um, just a venti iced coffee please?”

“Of course.”

She turned to help start preparing your order. Your eyes couldn’t help but look around the quiet coffee shop. Maybe you were just late to the party. Perhaps most British people were early risers unlike you. Your friends could be seen outside, sitting on the bench and waiting for you. There were very few people inside the coffee shop except for you, making small chatter. You weren’t paying attention to the counter when your drink was ready, the sound of the barista’s voice getting your attention. You smiled slightly, thanking her before turning to go. You were looking at the floor—not hardly paying attention to what or who was in front of you. 

Thump. You felt your outstretched arm make contact with something—somebody instantly knocking your drink out of your hand. You gasped in horror as your eyes panned up to notice the man dressed in black pants, a black sweater, black leather jacket, and baseball cap begin to wipe your drink off him. 

“Oh my God—I’m so sorry.”

The British were outspoken, or so you heard. At any moment, you expected to be degraded and yelled at. Which you couldn’t blame him. He was wearing your drink,  after all. You quickly glanced around the coffee shop, feeling all eyes on you. The man had sunglasses on the top of his baseball hat. An employee came to his aid quickly, bringing him a towel. He thanked her, voice soft. 

His attention turned to you, brown eyes soft. “It’s okay—really.”

“No—I can’t believe I did this.”

You were horrified. 

“It’s really okay—accidents happen.”, he gave you a small smile. 

How was he managing to be so calm and collected about this? 

“No—I really am so so sorry about this.”

You were handed another towel by the barista, immediately beginning to dab his clothes off. It was in that moment, your heart stopped. Looking up, your eyes made instant contact with his. He chuckled slightly, giving you a smile. His reaction was totally opposite of what you had expected, catching you completely off guard. You secretly hoped your friends hadn’t noticed, sure if they had, they’d never let you live it down.

“It’s really fine, love.”

Love. That made your heart flutter and your stomach turn. The British were very polite, using terms of endearment. That was normal for them. But you couldn’t help that it made your heart soar. Not to mention, he was good-looking. 

“It’s really not.”

“It’s alright, I promise.”, he insisted. 

There was something calming about his voice, his demeanor. The line cleared out and this handsome stranger finally had cleaned himself up enough to suffice for the time being. 

“What did you have to drink?”, he asked, easily.

You eyed him curiously. “Oh, just an iced coffee.”

“What size?”

“You’re not ordering my coffee, are you? Not after I dumped mine all over you?”

There was a hint of disbelief in your voice, causing him to chuckle. “It’ll be alright. I insist.”’

His voice was very calming, very soothing. 

“No—please don’t buy my coffee.”

Your voice sounded pathetic as it came from your throat. Before you could protest any further, the barista asked him what he’d like to order and he quickly squeezed in his order for your iced coffee and his macchiato. Your mouth was agape, shocked that he would do something like this—a kind gesture even after you dumped your coffee all over him. He gave you a small smirk as you both stood in off to the side, waiting on your coffees. 

“I’m sorry—I never caught your name.”, he turned to look at you.

“Y/N.”

“Lovely name.”

“And yours?”

“Joe.”

“Nice to meet you, Joe.”

“So are you visiting? I couldn’t help but notice your accent doesn’t quite match ours.”, he smiled, a small chuckle escaping from his lips.

“That obvious, hm?”, you finally giggled, causing him to smile.

“Slightly.”, he jested back. 

“Well to answer your question, Joe,” you emphasized his name slightly, causing a smile to spread across his lips. “I actually am visiting.”

He nodded, his brown eyes looking into yours. “I could give you a few suggestions of what to see while you’re here.”

“I’d love that.”, you smiled, brightly. 

“Okay, you definitely want to see Big Ben, the Tower Bridge, Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey—both of those if you have any interest in the royal family.”

Joe shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at you. 

“All of those sound amazing.”

There was a smile so huge spread across your cheeks that it made them ache. 

“Oh—and the London Eye. You’ve got to see it—or ride it unless you’re afraid of heights.”

There was a small chuckle after he spoke the last part. You laughed little nervously, thinking about how high that really was. You were deathly afraid of heights, the thought alone causing a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“I’ll definitely have to look into it.”

His brown eyes looked into yours—warm and inviting. Part of you wanted to get to know him better, he seemed so easy to talk to. It was like it took no effort to talk to him just in this little frame of time. It was refreshing to say the least. 

“Here’s your iced coffee and macchiato.”, the barista caught your all’s attention. 

His eyes instantly broke away from yours as he grabbed your all’s drinks, walking back over to you. You watched him carefully, refraining from biting your bottom lip. He looked good all dressed in black, you had to admit it. He outstretched his hand, handing you your iced coffee. 

“Thank you, again. I am so sorry I spilled my drink on you—I should paid more attention.”

“It’s really okay, love. No big deal.”, he touched your shoulder reassuringly.

Love. There was that word again, the one that made your stomach do somersaults. His touched sent shock waves through your body, chills cascading down your spine. You had been out of your last relationship for over a year. It was a very dark time, your last boyfriend being very emotionally, verbally, and even borderline physically abusive. You hadn’t been with a man since and had no intentions of finding one, even feeling guilty you thought this man you met at the coffee shop was attractive. 

It felt nice to have a man’s touch—even if it was a simple gesture like this. You all began to slowly make your way towards the exit of the coffee shop. 

“Well, it was very nice meeting you—just not under the circumstances of spilling my drink on you.”

He closed his eyes, chuckling lightly before opening them again. “It was lovely to meet you even if you did spill your drink on me.”

You could tell he was slightly nervous, a little but anxious. 

“If you need anything around London while you’re visiting, I can give you my number. I’d be happy to show you around or give more suggestions.”

“Oh that sounds great.”, you reached in your pocket, pulling your cell phone out. 

You handed him your phone, allowing him to put his contact in. He smiled, giving you his phone to do the same. Exchanging phones back, he gave you a soft smile.

“See you later, Y/N.”

“See ya later, Joe.”

He grabbed the coffee shop door for you, allowing you to exit first. You could feel his eyes on you. He was being a true gentleman. You tried to keep your goodbye casual, cursing yourself slightly. He gave you a small smile as he went on his way, your eyes glued as you watched him walk away. You hated already to see him go, but loved to watch him leave. 

“What was that?”, one of your friends, Amanda asked.

“What was what?”, you sipped your iced coffee, somehow this one tasting sweeter than any other ever had. “Other than me making a complete idiot of myself.”

“Do you know who that was?”, another friend of yours, Christine asked.

“What do you mean? He was a random English….what do they called them—bloak named Joe?”

Your friend , Amanda rolled her eyes, laughing. “You’re really oblivious?”

Your glared at her. “Oblivious about what? So what? He was a cute British bloak named Joe who actually offered to show me some of London. Even after spilling my coffee on him.”

Amanda and Christine laughed, causing your facial expression to switch between confused and agitated. You didn’t see what was so funny. He was a very nice, respectful, attractive looking British bloak. Who was very nice and bought you a drink even after you dumped your iced coffee on him. He also offered to give you help touring London.

“That was Joseph Quinn.”

You heard what Christine said, but your brain didn’t process it immediately. “What?”

“Joseph Quinn, the actor who played Eddie Munson in Stranger Things?”

Your eyes widened, finally comprehending what she said. Your friends began giggling, watching your shocked reaction. 

“I spilled my coffee on Joseph Quinn?”, the words fell from your lips, dripping slow like honey as you tried to process your actions. 

They nodded. 

“Don’t worry though, he seemed to not mind. He definitely liked what he saw. We saw you all exchange numbers.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, he probably is laughing to all his mates about how stupid I am.”

You all began slowly walking down the street, opposite from where Joe had went. You were silently cursing yourself, taking another sip of your iced coffee. Somehow, this taste was slightly more bitter. How could you have spilled your iced coffee on Joseph Quinn? What a fool, an idiot you were. Even if you did text him, you were sure he would ignore it. He should ignore it, after everything you put him through. For the rest of the day, he was all you could think about. 

__________________________________________________________________________

Joseph kept walking. His brain told him to keep going, don’t turn around and don’t take a second look. But he couldn’t help it. He stopped up the street a little ways, turning around and taking a sip of his coffee. He silently cursed himself, hoping you wouldn’t notice. He could see you talking with who he assumed to be your friends. Your facial expressions were very animated, he chuckled to himself. It was the cutest thing he’d seen in a while. Before you had a chance to notice him, he reminded himself he needed to keep walking. 

His best friend, Wesley was waiting for him at his apartment. They were going to spend the day, hanging out. Joseph hadn’t been in a serious relationship since before he auditioned for Stranger Things. He had a few hook-ups and casual flings, but nothing worth bringing home to mom. All the people he passed on the street couldn’t take his mind off you. There was something about you that intrigued him. Wesley texted him, bringing him out of his thoughts by asking what was keeping him.

Joe texted and told him, he’d explain to him later. It was too much to explain over text. The wind had a nip to it, causing Joe to pull his jacket tighter. It didn’t help that he was still a little damp. But he didn’t mind. The walk to Wesley’s felt like forever before he knocked on his door, trying anything he could to get you out of his head.

Wesley opened the door, a surprised look on his face. “Finally decided to show up?”

Joe chuckled, coming inside. “Sorry, I went to get coffee.”

“You smell like coffee shop.”, Wesley joked. 

“Well—that’s kinda what kept me awhile. A girl—I met, she had ordered some iced coffee and accidentally bumped into me and spilled her coffee all over me. She felt so bad.”

Wesley’s eyes widened. “Was she at least pretty?”

Joe groaned before throwing his head back and laughing. “More than pretty. Beautiful—funny.”

“Well, did ya get her number?”

“We exchanged numbers.” 

“Has she texted you?”

“No. I told her if she needed more suggestions or wanted me to show her around to text me. Was that stupid?”

“No, not stupid. So she’s American?”

Joe nodded. 

“Did she know who you were?”

Joe shook his head. “If she did, she didn’t let on like she did.”

“Are you gonna text her?”

“I don’t know—is it stupid for me to text someone that probably won’t ever visit again?”, Joe sighed. 

“You never know.”, Wesley began before going to his room, grabbing some clothes for Joe to change into. “She may come back if she likes what she sees.”

Joe rolled his eyes, sighing. 

Wesley came back in, handing him the clothes. “Try not to worry too much, Romeo.”

Joe glared at him playfully. “I’m not worried about it.”

Wesley laughed before going to sit down in his living room. Joe rolled his eyes again before going to the bathroom to change. Joe sighed, closing the door and beginning to take his coffee soaked clothes off. All he could think about while staring at his shirt and pants was how innocently you were trying to help him dab his clothes, eyes finally meeting. Your eyes were soft, but he could see hesitation in them. Your anxiety was through the roof. 

He could tell you were waiting for him to blow at any second. But he wasn’t going to. It was an honest mistake, an accident. After changing clothes, Joe emerged from the bathroom and took a seat on Wesley’s loveseat, opposite of him. He laid his iPhone on the arm of the loveseat, praying you might just text him. He could see if you didn’t want to text him. His response was a little lame, even the way he tried to ask you out in a round about way. There was no way you didn’t have a boyfriend back home. 

Wesley eyed him. “Still thinking about her?”

“Am not.”, Joe looked off to the side, before looking down at his lap. 

“You sure about that? You seem really distracted.”

“I am sure, Wes.”

Wesley finally dropped it, beginning to bring up other subjects to Joe to talk about. They had been best friends for years. Even as they talked, Wesley could tell something was up with his best friend. But he had a feeling he knew what it was. It had been a while since Joe had a serious girlfriend. Joseph needed to find someone who would love him and want him for him—not his fame or money. 

Day soon turned into evening, the sun beginning to set. Throughout the entire evening, Wesley secretly watched Joe pick his phone up at the slightest ding, hoping it would be you. Wesley rolled his eyes playfully, wishing he could just text you. They had decided to eat dinner at Wesley’s apartment, opting to order pizza. Joe was finally about to give up on you texting him, letting out a long sigh. Wesley eyed him, grabbing his cell phone.

“Decided on a kind of pizza?”

“Just whatever you want.”

Wesley was about to dial the number when Joe’s phone dinged, him practically almost falling off the couch to grab it. 

Joe’s face lit up as he read the message. 

-Hey, it’s Y/N. The one who spilled coffee on you this morning. I know it’s late but my friends decided to go drinking tonight instead of sight seeing and I’m just not in the mood to have a terrible hang over. Does your offer still stand? X

Wesley could notice from the kitchen that his best friend’s demeanor changed. “Did she message?” There was no response as Joe texted back.

-Hey, offer still stands. Where are you staying? I can come pick you up, if that’s okay?

He tried his best to keep it casual. Not appearing or seeming like he was waiting in your text. Not like it had drove him crazy all day long. 

“Is it her?”, Wesley asked again, finally gaining Joe’s attention.

Joe nodded. “She’s asking if my offer still stands.”

Wesley smirked. “Told you she liked what she saw. My mate might have him a date.”

Joe glared up at Wesley as his phone dinged again.

-Sounds great. I’m staying at Park Plaza near Westminster Bridge. Just got out of the shower. Should be ready when you get here. 

Joe felt a stabbing, aching feeling in the pit of his stomach. His eyes fluttered shut, just imagining you fresh out of the shower wrapped in nothing but a towel. He shook his head, remembering he barely knew you and shouldn’t be having thoughts like that. But he couldn’t help it. You were beautiful. Wesley couldn’t contain himself anymore, bringing himself into the living room and peering over the couch to read Joe’s texts from you. 

“Think you might get lucky?”, Wesley teased.

Joe glared back at him. “No—no, we aren’t having sex on the first—whatever this is, Wes.”

Wesley laughed, raising his eyebrows. “Not even if she initiates it?” 

“NO.”, Joe said, more firmly. “I hate to do this—but I need to go get ready. Maybe pizza later this week?”

A laugh escaped from Wesley. “Yeah, pizza later. Go meet your mystery girl.”

Joe rolled his eyes, laughing before responding to you. 

-Sounds good. I’ll text you when I’m on my way. See you soon.

“Catch me up later?”

Joe nodded. “Yeah, I’ll let you know how things go.”

With that, Joe left Wesley’s apartment with a spring in his step. He was in a rush to get to his house and change before meeting you. A quick shower would be nice, just to freshen up and make sure he no longer smelled like coffee. He threw the door open quickly, throwing his keys and phone down. He wasted no time running for his bathroom, turning on the hot water. Looking in the mirror, he made sure his beard didn’t look too crazy—he had been letting it grow a little. Just thicker. 

He quickly trimmed it a little bit before jumping in the shower. He closed his eyes, feeling the warm water rush over his body. All he could think about was you—what you were wearing, what you smelled like—he tried to remind himself it was too early to be infatuated with you. Running his hands through his curls, he thought of what to do this evening, but decided he would let you lead. If you asked for his suggestions, he would gladly give them. If you wanted him to surprise you, he’d gladly do it. It was all up to you. 

Turning off the water, he heard his phone ding from the living room. He cursed himself slightly, remembering he had left it in there. He was careful to step out of the shower, afraid if he mis-stepped he’d up in the ER instead of being able to take you sight-seeing. He quickly dried his hair, leaving it in a curly, wild mess before using gel to smooth it down, still leaving the curls.  Blowing air, he was trying to decide what to wear to make a good impression. As the sun went down, it became colder this time of year in London. 

After spraying cologne, he left the bathroom and went to grab his phone. 

-Hey. Just checking in and making sure you’re alright.

Joe quickly began typing a response. 

-Hey, yes. Sorry had to run back to my place. I’ll be there ASAP. Want me to meet you at your room so you don’t have to walk down alone? Or do you want to meet me in the lobby?

He instantly cursed himself as he hit sent. He took his phone with him to the bedroom, laying it on his bed as he raked through his closet trying to find something that would satisfy him. Another ding, causing him to stop his search for the perfect outfit. 

-My room is fine. I’m in 221. See you soon. Be safe. X

Another smile curved across his lips, typing away.

-Sounds good. Getting dressed. See you soon. :)

Instantly, he began questioning himself. Was the smiley face too much? Groaning, he went back to searching his closet for clothes. He finally decided on black slacks, a white button up, and his peacoat seeing as it was pretty chilly this evening. Grabbing his phone and keys, he was out the door. The wind had a harsh nip to it, instantly hitting his warm face in contrast. Exhaling, he watched his breath in the cool, night air. There was a spring in his step, for the first time in a long time he felt eager. There was hope rising in his chest, the closer he got to the hotel. 

-Awesome, see you soon. :)

His brain quickly reminded him that this was only casual, he was just showing you around. The only reason you wanted to see him was for him to show you around his hometown. It was obvious, considering he knew the ends and outs. There was nothing more to this, was there? He turned the corner, reaching for the door of the hotel. The warm air hit his chilled face, him inhaling a deep breath. A small smile spread across his lips as he breezed by the desk. Pressing the button on the elevator, he began trying to talk himself up. 

The elevator dinged, reaching the second floor. This was the moment he had been waiting for. He was a bundle of nerves as he approached room 221. Reaching his hand up towards the door, he could see it shaking as he prepared to knock on your door.  A few broken knocks agains the door was all he could muster. 

He wasn’t prepared for you to open the door so quickly. The moment almost happened in slow motion. The first thing he noticed was how bright your eyes were shining. A smile spread across your lips, his eyes panning down to see you in a white sweater dress, hugging your curves perfectly. His mouth went dry, trying to find the words to say. You smiled at him, waiting for anything to come out of his mouth.

“Wow, you look—amazing.”, he breathed, trying to keep his cool.

Deep down inside, he felt like a little school boy. His nerves were getting the best of him, not quite used to feeling this way. He had been used to women throwing themselves at him lately, but it was different with you. 

“Thank you so much—so do you.”

Those words sounded so stupid coming from your mouth. 

He smiled, laughing nervously as he brushed through his curls. “So, did you have any idea where you wanted to go first? Have you had dinner?”

He was shooting his shot, hoping that it would work. There was a small glimmer of hope. 

You smirked, holding your small jacket folded over on your arm. “No, honestly. Have you?”

“No, actually. I know a really good place if you’re up for it.”

Your face lit up. “That would be amazing, I’m starving—if I’m being honest. And some of this stuff on the menus are—”

“Different?”, Joe finished for you.

“Different.”, you confirmed. 

He chuckled, immediately lightening the mood. “For sure. Let’s go. It’s in Soho, is that too far?”

“Oh no—it would be fun. We can always come back to London. I love a good dinner.”

He smiled, before he quickly frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. “Okay. Um, this is a hard topic—”

“Okay….”

What would he tell you? Was this the part where he shared with you a dark secret like having a secret girlfriend? Even if he was famous, you had to remind yourself you didn’t know him. You only knew what your friends had shared with you—causing you to beat yourself up all evening on how you spilled coffee on THE Joseph Quinn. You were surprised when he immediately texted back, offering to show you around London. You thought he would never want to see you again. 

“But um—there is something I do need to tell you….”

A sinking feeling entered the pit of your stomach. 

“Alright….”

“I don’t know if you know, but—”, he laughed nervously, closing his eyes before continuing. “I’m actually a little famous—not trying to brag—definitely not trying to brag, but there may be people who see us together.”

Your eyes lit up, feeling slight relief. “Okay.”

“It won’t bother you?”

“I don’t think so—I just hope it doesn’t cause trouble for you.”

He smiled. “I’m used to it. At least they’ll say I was with a beautiful woman.”

You felt your cheeks becoming red, a nervous laugh rising from your chest. “I’m sure you’ve brushed shoulders with women much more beautiful than me.”

Joe rolled his eyes playfully. “Aw, come on.”

“It’s true.”

You both stopped laughing, looking deep into each other’s eyes. Your smile softened as you made direct eye contact. It was like the entire world stopped spinning in that second—the second your eyes met. You swallowed hard, feeling the connection between you both. He held his out hand, motioning for you to go ahead in front of him. You smirked, immediately thinking about how much of a gentleman he was. The only time he got in front of you was to open the doors, feeling the cool air immediately hit you both.

“Do you want to take a cab or walk?”

“Doesn’t matter to me, what do you think?”

“We could walk to the restaurant, see the sights if you wanted?”

You smiled softly. “Yeah, sounds good.”

He nodded, leading you to through the streets. You all made small talk, beginning to talk about how your all’s lives. He told you about his mom and dad, that he always wanted to be involved in acting. You told him a little about your life in the States, telling him you worked for a doctor’s office. He didn’t poke or prod information out of you, allowing you to tell him what you felt comfortable telling him. There would be breaks in your conversations regarding your personal lives, him explaining some sights. It was so cold you both could see your breath in the air. 

Finally reaching the restaurant, you all entered and felt the warm air hit your pale, chilled faces. It looked very ritzy, nothing like you were used to. You all sat down, sitting across from one another. It gave you an opportunity to take him in, but you tried not to stare long—immediately grabbing the menu and trying to submerse yourself in it. 

“The steak tartare is amazing.”, Joe began. “I think you’d like it.”

  Your eyes panned down to the mains portion of the menu. You were a little surprised by the description. 

“Served with egg yolk?”, you asked, sliding your menu down to view him.

He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s pretty popular over here…kinda like baked beans with our breakfast.

You nodded easily, but he could tell you were slightly shocked. It made a smile curve across his lips. It was a breath of fresh air to talk to someone who had a different outlook on things. 

“Do you want a shot?”, he asked.

You widened your eyes easily. “Sure.”

The waiter came around, taking your order. He ordered oysters, immediately causing your nose to crinkle up slightly. He ordered you both a shot, your main dinner, and said you’d debate dessert. 

“Don’t knock it until you try it.”, Joe smirked as the waiter took your all’s menus. 

“I’m not sure about oysters.”, you chuckled nervously. 

“Just try one. If you hate it, you can blame me.”

You all continued to make small talk, waiting on your food. The waiter was quick to bring the shots, you immediately noticing they were smaller than the ones in the States. On a count of three, you both turned up your shots, you having no trouble downing it. He smirked at you as you both sat your glasses down on the table with a clink. It wasn’t long before you felt a small buzz, just enough to make you unwind and not feel so uptight. Even though Joe was easy to talk to you, you still felt a little unsure of yourself. You’d never been overly confident when it came to dating. 

“So you graduated LAMDA in 2015?”, you asked, taking a drink of your water.

He nodded. “Yes, had a few acting roles afterwards…nothing to brag about.”

“No, that’s really wonderful—I mean sounds like you were popular over here.”

“I guess you could say so…..I didn’t really gain a lot of traction though until I played Eddie on Stranger Things”, he smirked.

You could tell he wasn’t telling you this to brag about his filmography. 

“That was you?”, you asked, surprised. 

He nodded. 

“Wow….you were amazing….”

“Aw, come on.”, he laughed nervously, raking through his curls.

All he could focus on was how beautiful you looked—even in the lowlight of the restaurant. 

“No, I mean it. I cried over the season finale.”, you laughed as the waiter brought the oysters. 

Joe smiled widely, looking up from you with his deep brown eyes. “You did?”

You nodded, looking up between him and the oysters. He thanked you, genuinely surprised by your reaction.  You can’t believe that you had completely glazed over the fact he played in something you watched with your friends. You felt like such a fool—an idiot, You could only imagine what he was secretly thinking about you. You wouldn’t be surprised if he never called you again or texted—which you couldn’t blame him. 

He somehow talked you into trying oysters. While they weren’t your favorite, you didn’t hate them. Your reaction caused him to laugh, ending with both of you all laughing. There was chemistry between you both, but you tried not to get your hopes up, realizing you had to return home in a few days. Most of the time, nothing long distance worked out. At best, you all could be friends. 

After finishing dessert, you left the restaurant, immediately entering the cold air. The temperature had dropped since you all had came. You instantly cursed yourself for not bringing a thick coat. As you all continued to walk and talk, you did your best not to let him know you were practically freezing.  It wasn’t a long walk back to see Big Ben. Your teeth were so close to chattering, it wasn’t funny. You felt them chatter silently in your mouth, not knowing whether it was from the cold or your nerves—or a mix of both.

“Are you cold?”, he asked, turning to eye you.

“A little.”, you admitted, seeing your breath in the cold air.

Big Ben came into view, illuminated in the dark of the night. You both looked up at it, the clock hands nearing ten. 

“Wow.”, you breathed, eyeing up at Big Ben.

A landmark so simple as Big Ben had you in awe, amazed by the sight. It was nothing like you’d ever seen before. 

“Nice, isn’t?”, Joe smiled over at you, 

“Amazing.”, you looked back at him.

Turning your attention back to Big Ben, you didn’t notice him sliding off his navy blue peacoat. Your body was shocked when you felt the warm fabric around your shoulders. It smelled like his cologne and aftershave, the scent encasing your nose. You felt yourself swallow hard, looking up at him in the pale moonlight, your faces illuminated. 

He chuckled through a smile.

You instinctively put your arms in his coat, the chill melting away.  “You didn’t have to do that Joe.”

“You were cold, it’s what a gentleman does, you know.”, he chuckled, leaning in closer. 

“Yeah, but—why are you being so nice to me? Even after I poured my coffee on you?”, you looked at him.

Your eyes were locked, your stomach twisting and turning at the obvious chemistry between you both.

“I—it was an accident.”, he began. “Plus, it’s easy to forgive such a beautiful girl.”

A smile spread across your lips. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Man, he was really turning on the charm now.

You giggled easily. “That can’t be true.”

“It is, what do I have to do to prove it to you?”

There was something about this romantic rendezvous that made your heart beat a little faster, made you excited. It made your blood pump a little faster through your veins. It was like a wild romance novel where you met this handsome stranger who immediately knocked you off your feet. 

“I don’t know….”

He chuckled again before his smile faded slightly. There was a gleam in his brown eyes, unlike you’d seen before. Maybe it was the moonlight. Maybe something was shifting. Was it the alcohol in your systems? His fingers brushed your cheek, causing a soft sigh to escape your lips. Your eyes fluttered shut, before opening to view his face right in front of you. Was this some kind of dream?

His face inched in closer to yours, feeling his breath hit your soft skin. In this moment, it was like your brain went into auto-pilot mode. You both inched in closer, his fingers trailing up your cheek to finally meet some of your hair. It felt like time stood still—his lips finally meeting yours. They were soft, sensual and everything you would have dreamed them to be. 

It started off as a peck—soft and small. His eyes fluttered open just as yours did. Another soft, approving sigh escaped your lips. Your mouth gaped open, words wanting to come out but you were unable to form any. He heard the slight stutter but quickly crashed his lips into yours again, this time deepening the kiss. You held back the moan that begged to escape your throat as his other hand rested on your waist.  It had been so long since you’d felt this way, it was uncharted territory.

You both finally pulled away, his hands still resting on your hips as your eyes fluttered open to view him.

“Wow—that was—”, your mouth was dry like cotton.

“Amazing?”, he finished for you, chuckling softly before brushing your hair back.

You nodded, a small giggle escaping from your lips. This felt like a fever dream, like it shouldn’t have happened. Your mind was still reeling from sharing a kiss with him. You couldn’t help but to look deep into his brown eyes, mesmerized and completely enamored with him in this moment. You didn’t want this night to end, knowing you were one step closer to having to return home. Your brain quickly tried to rationalize the situation, reminding you that once you went home you would just be a memory to him. 

He’d probably never even text you, much less call you. He’d forget he even met you, blinded by all the pretty women he met in the industry. There were women much more beautiful than you—models, actresses, artists. The list went on and on. You, on the other hand, was just a normal American girl. What did you possibly have to offer him? There was one of two ways this night could possibly go—allow him to take you back to your hotel or see if he offered to take you back to his place. 

Your thoughts were derailed as he leaned in for another kiss, making this one consist of a few soft and slow kisses. You weren’t complaining—it was probably the best kiss you had ever had in your entire life. It felt like your brain was overloaded, the circuits malfunctioning as he pulled away and took another look at you. Your cheeks felt red and flushed as he smiled at you. 

“When do you go home?”, he asked, out of the blue. 

“Sunday. I fly home Sunday.”

He nodded easily, looking back up at you. “We could do something everyday until then—if you friends wouldn’t mind, that is….”, he stammered nervously. 

You giggled, his arms still around you. “That would be amazing, Joe.”

Without much more thought, you all shared another kiss. It was like one wasn’t enough. Maybe it was the fact you knew you’d never see him again. Maybe it was the fact he was British—you didn’t know. 

“It’s getting late and I’m sure you’re jet lagged. Anything else you want to do?”, he asked softly. 

“This has been an amazing night. I think I need some sleep.”, you laughed, your laugh fading into a yawn. 

Your body shivered as he fixed his peacoat around you. You shivered just looking at him, how was he surviving the cold?

“How are you not cold?”, you asked easily.

“Oh, I’m cold. I’m just used to London weather.”, he smirked. 

“I’m freezing.”, you admitted. 

He pulled you into him, completely shocking you. He smirked down at you, sending shivers down your spine. You dreaded the walk back to the hotel, realizing your amazing night was almost coming to a close. London was beautiful, but at night, it was magical and breath taking. As you all continued to walk, you rummaged through your wallet attempting to find your hotel key card.

“Shit—sorry shoot.”, you corrected as you stopped, Joe halting his steps with you. 

“What’s wrong, love?”, he asked easily. 

“I forgot my key card. It’s locked up in the room.”

His eyes widened easily as he continued to watch you comb over your wallet, checking every nook and cranny. 

“Can’t find—it—could have sworn I put it in here.”

“Maybe try calling your friends?”, he suggested.

He felt guilty as he secretly hoped your friends wouldn’t answer. He didn’t want this amazing night to end with you. He wasn’t sure how long this dilemma would prolong it, but he was willing to take anything else he could get. You awakened something inside of him.

You nodded, pulling out your phone and dialing their numbers. No answer from either. 

“They didn’t answer.”, you groaned, eyeing your phone. 

He felt hope rise in his chest, decided to shoot his shot. 

“Um, my flat is close by…if you want to go back there…you don’t have to stay—just until they answer, maybe?”

He immediately wanted to kick himself for babbling on like an idiot. So much for being smooth about it. 

“That sounds great, Joe. It’s so cold. I’m so sorry to put you in this position.”, you sighed, looking up at him. 

“No-no, I insist. If they don’t answer, you could stay. I can give you the bed and I could take the couch?”

He closed his eyes, immediately cursing himself again. What were you doing to him? He was usually cool, calm, and collected when it came to trying to romance someone—but that went out the window with you. 

“You’d do that?”

“Of course.”, he smiled.

#joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn x reader #joseph x reader #joseph quinn #eddie x reader #eddie munson #enjolras x reader #eddie imagines

[keeponquinning]

Okay. I kinda fixed it. The AI is weird but! Here's an Enjolras treat. Sort of based on a one shot I have planned to write with Enjolras, so think of it as a sneak peek, idk if I'll keep the dialogue, but for something I wrote spur of the moment, it's not bad. It's not perfect, but, hopefully it'll make ya'll swoon.

Note: This is done in fun, so let's treat it as such.

#joseph quinn #bbc enjolras #enjolras #enjolras x you #enjolras x reader #enjolras x fem!reader #— words come audios

[stardancerluv]

A Time to Love and to Fight

Part: Thirty One

Summary: The truth comes to life.

Notes/Warnings: Angst, flashbacks to the barricade, mortality questions. 🍋Lemonade🍋 came to London in the 1800’s they made it with Honey, before it became chic…men on ships used to drink it to prevent scurvy.

❤️s, feedback, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

He slipped free of his coat, untied and pulled his scarlet scarf from his throat. Laying them on his desk, he turned and kelt in front of his cupboard. When the door creaked open, he glanced around. He hated hiding this from you. It wasn’t in his nature.

Though he did not want to risk upsetting you or his unborn child. Uncovering, the sabers, he took the one had grown more comfortable toward. Inhaling, he began slicing through the room.

At first it was only his room that was a blur as he moved around. His heart began to beat harder, his breathing shallowed as his room began to fade it shifted in his mind to when he had first began to art of the sword. It had been at an early age when he learned on how easy it was for him move about. He was good at dodging and deflecting.

As a child, he never found it hard to find a place for his foot when climbing a tree or running across rocks that made it easier to cross a brook on his family’s estate. His heart lurched as his mind brought back the moments in the alley. The space easily had grown tight and the air had soured with plumes of smoke from the pistols and canons. The barricade fell broken in mere moments. A vision of his friend, Courfeyrac; he had long since laid rest his memory. He had been brave stood tall and made it possible for him and you run away from the soldiers that burst through the doors.

Stopping, lifting his arm clad in a start white sleeve he brushed aside the sweat that blossomed on his forehead. Thank you dear friend, he whispered in his mind.

“Mon amour.” There was a knock and creek of his door opening as your voice fluttered over to his ears.

Turned on his heal.

“There you are.” Your voice was so light, like the sunlight that shone into his room.

He coughed, holding the sword close to him. He glanced back at you over his shoulder. “Yes?”

He saw your brow furrow and your smile wavered but remained.

“A message came. I thought we’d read it together.”

“Ah, yes…yes. Bring it and yourself to the sitting room. I will shall join you shortly.”

“Oh, yes that shall be pleasant.” And his door snapped shut.

He relaxed, though annoyance prickled him. He hated that his words to you were as sharp as the sword in his hands. His heart rode his emotions, his actions. He crossed the short distance to his cupboard. He had to compose himself before joining you.

******

“My lady?” The soft voice of Beatrice broke the world of the book in your lap.

“Oh? Yes?” You were still getting addressed as such. Greta had always been respectful but lady, that was an entirely different class then you ever expected to be addressed in. And in these last couple of months. You realized not to argue with Beatrice over it. In the end, it only helped you and Enjolras in your new life.

“Sorry to disturb you but a message came for Sir Julien.”

You put the book down and with a quick breath, you stood and went over to her. “I would love to bring it to him.”

“I am sure, he will enjoy that all the more.”

Beatrice then handed it to you before turning and returning back to whatever task she busied herself with beforehand.

You can tell it had been replaced on the smooth and more elegant paper for the destination it was to reach. The paper felt very nice nice in your hands.

******

You were confused as to why he had not turned to even face you. His words, his tone were like an icy shadow compared to the days you had heard him speak warmly and passionately.

“Oh, yes that shall be pleasant.”

You felt a churning inside of you, not wanting anything further from this shadow of the man you loved, you closed the door at his last word.

******

On the small table besides the chaise, you tossed away the fine paper. The exchange between the two of you didn’t make you inclined to hold it any longer.

Eyeing the pitcher you wondered of its contents. You smiled seeing the sweet lemon and honey mixture. Beatrice, knowing you didn’t always want to ring by bell or other means would leave you pitchers ready for your thirst would fall over you. Though it was best kept inside because if you were to go to the garden, she would bring it out. Because if not it attracted more beings then the flowers did.

You poured yourself a glass, then holding your day dress just so you said down on the chaise. The cushions were very comforting and the dye chosen in it always pleased you. It reminded you on the sun shining down water by a forest or the ocean when it was not angry.

******

“There is my ange.” You noticed that his words had soften.

You barely glanced his way, and u took a sip from your cup.

He closed the door and soon his shadow fell over you, as he stopped on the other side of the table.

“Is this the message?”

You looked up, you immediately noticed the top buttons on his billowy shirt were undone and a flush dusted his cheeks. It made you pause. “Yes.”

You noticed that he also poured himself a cup. “I am glad you are fond of this.” He held up the cup and soon he snatched the envelope in his other hand and came and sat beside you. He took sip.

“It is very pleasant. It lays close to my heart like a deep rose tea.”

He smiled. “You do enjoy your tea.”

You nodded.

He put the cup down. He held up the envelope. “From home, I do wonder what they coiled possibly want.”

You put down your cup, reaching up you drew his hand down. “What is the matter?”

His brows knit together. “What are you questioning?“

You swallowed. “You.”

The flush returned to his cheeks.

“I see you infrequently unless it is time to slumber or eat.” You shrugged. “Yes, on the occasion I see you in the garden and we take in its beauty like we did in the park so long ago. But now, you act as if I have grown to be a nuisance or I am no longer bare any importance in your life.”

You finally spoke of all that had been lingering in your heart. A tear escaped and ran down your cheek.

He pressed his lips together, he placed the letter back on the table and finished what was in his cup. You didn’t dare move, you felt as if he was gonna spring off the chaise like a kitten would if it was hoping to catch a butterfly or a mouse. And right now you couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving your side.

Then he did the unexpected. He shifted and moved till he was sitting like he had under the willow in garden of your home. His back now more comfortably supported by the curve of the chaise.

The sight of him before you as such made your heart yearn.

“Do not break my heart.”

“Oh, my sweet amour.” Easily, having forgotten the strength he has you found yourself nestled close to him.

You laid like this. Silence had fallen over the two of you like a blanket would have. You felt the beat of his hear, the warmth of his breath and his arms draped loosely around you. That you knew was for fear of disturbing the baby that still grew with you.

“Oh my amour.” He spoke again lifting his chin from where it had nestled in the strands of your hair.

“Our life, our destiny more mine that yours may cause your heart to break, not I. In my wild, undignified ways I will always love you.”

His words, the feel of his heart beating harder, made you move so you could look at him.

“Not long after we arrived and wonderful news of the blessing of a child filled our new home. A storm, a shadow drifted and reached our shores from our past.”

You watched as he swallowed. Despite the warmth of him around you, coolness prickled you.

“A man, a solider is seeking revenge for my action. I struck down his son at the barricade. Now he is searching and wishes to do the same to me.”

“That was during a fight, skirmish I dare say. Deaths, men get slain.”

He nodded.

“Did I grow angry at the boat that went down or the ocean that swallowed my father? No. I was made that it was my father. Does be not see this?”

“No. He does not see that it was an act or war. There was no personal thoughts. It was a question of survival.”

You nestled close. “What are you to do?”

“I watch my shadow and I have been practicing with the sabers, my father sent me.”

“Enjolras, why…but why?” You were at a loss as why did not fair this horrific news with you.

One of his gently reached and held what he could of your growing stomach.

“What if he found you while you would be at the tavern? Were I then to find out when you would not return to us?”

He stilled under you. “To be honest, the thought had never came to me.”

******

You had not been able to sleep, reading by candlelight finally you felt as sleepiness clawed at you.

You felt the bed give after what felt like moments after you had pulled the blanket more tightly around you.

“Enjolras?” Your voice scratchy from sleep.

“Yes, mon amour.”

The bed gave only this time, only beside you. You blinked at the now glow of the candle on the table beside the bed.

Looking up you smiled seeing, Enjolras in and out of the shadows. It made him all the more handsome at that moment. You watched as could see etched on his face.

“Are you alright?”

“I just could have sworn I had just crawler back into bed when you awoke. I was worried I disturbed you.”

“I don’t think so. I had just used the water closet and seeing the dawn, I knew I had best travel to the harbor. The package mentioned in the letter should be arriving today.”

“Would you have awoken me?”

He smiled and ran his fingers through his curls. “Once the carriage was ready.”

“Let me come with you.”

You put your hand over his.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“I will stay in the carriage. I need to do something outside of our estate.”

He pressed his lips together. He knew there was no stopping you.

“You are my husband.” You admitted. You were not that rebellious.

He inhaled and absently rubbed his goatee. “Maybe we can eat at the tavern or perhaps even do a little shopping.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but make me a promise my amour.”

“Please, if I grow concerned you will listen to me. I don’t quite trust these English men.”

“I promise.”

*******

The carriage rolled and bumped through the countryside. The world world turned but a murky dark blue, to purple to violet and finally to a clear light blue.

You say absently, after stirring.

“Looks like it will be a good day.” You yawn softly, waling more from your unexpected nap.

With the shaking, the creaks and cracks of the carriage the two of you actually had drifted off for more that half of the portion of the trip to the city proper.

He gave you a side long glance. “You look like a proper English lady with the hat and the gloves.” He rolled his shoulders, before stretching out his legs with a sigh.

You squeezed his arm before glancing down at yourself. “You think so?”

“Only far lovelier.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Enjolras. How is it you still make me blush.”

“Because my words speak the truth.”

@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

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfic #enjolras #bbc!enjolras #bbc! enjolras imagine #bbc! enjolras fanfiction #bbc! enjolras x fem!reader #enjolras x fem!reader #enjolras x reader #enjolras x you #enjolras x y/n #bbc les mis #les miserables #bbc! les miserables #les miserable imagine #les miserables fanfiction #a time to love and to fight #part 31

[emmywrites-blog]

run away

pairing: enjolras x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

genre: angst & fluff

summary: after spending a night with enjolras you are determined to get back home, wanting to make sure that your wealthy father has no inkling of your meeting. that is until your love brings up a serious conversation. 

warnings: indication of sex, kissing ?

notes: i have not edited this so i apologize if there are any grammtical/spelling mistakes, also, have fun reading my first work on here!

“My father would kill both of us if he knew I was here.” You spoke as you adjusted the puffy sleeve of your dress. You had visited your rebellious love for the first time in a week, spending the night in his arms, fondling and cradling him till the early hours of the morning. 

Enjolras was laid back on his bed, an arm resting behind his head as his gaze moved along your body, a perfect body in his eyes, “Yes well, he will have to get used to it eventually.” He stated, the corner of his mouth turning upwards in a beautiful smirk. 

Your dear Enjolras had caught your eye the minute you saw him within the town market, a place you didn’t go very often. He was there with a group of his comrades, seemingly in a heated discussion. It was when he glanced over his shoulder at you though, that you felt the butterflies in your stomach radiate through your bloodstream, making a home in your brain. 

You smiled softly to yourself and pulled your other sleeve over your shoulder, being sure to straighten out the front of the pink silk material cascading down your body, “He won’t get used to it if he never finds out,” You mentioned briefly, your words carrying a soft tone, “Hopefully he never does.”

Enjolras watched as you ran the tips of your fingers through your hair, calming the subtle waves. The sunrise shone through the window to his room, illuminating a golden glow along your figure, “Never?” He then asked, lifting himself up so he could rest on his elbows, “My love, you believe we can truly keep up this act forever?”

Your small smile turned into a solemn look of despair. You had fallen so deeply for Enjolras that even the thought of him made you weak in the knees, but you knew the truth of your relationship. A rebellion like Enjolras, although wealthy, was never destined to be with you. You were the oldest of four girls, a daughter in which your duty was to marry a loyal man. Your father was never a supporter of the revolution, especially now as times were dangerous. 

You turned and looked at Enjolras. You admired him, the way a stray curl hung over his forehead, how the sheet on his bed rested just above his bare belly button. You took a step towards him, your heels clacking along the hardwood floor, “Until I am courted.” You stated quietly, knowing that your loves reaction would be that of disappointment. 

Enjolras shook his head and sat up a bit straighter, keeping the sheet around his waist, “You are being courted.” He quipped, his eyes boring into your own, “We can be together, we’re together right now, don’t you see how wonderful this is?” 

You clasped your hands together in front of you, looking at the floor beneath your feet, “You know we can never marry,” You mentioned, the same thing you had told Enjolras many times before, “My father will never agree, not with your position in the revolution.” 

“Take back your freedom, darling.” Enjolras finally stood from the squeaky mattress beneath him and secured the sheet around his waist, “Do you love me? Do you feel the way you have told me? Or was it all a lie?”

You knitted your brows together as your eyes hopped to Enjolras face, shaking your head quickly, “Of course I love you! I loved you the moment I laid my eyes on you.” You told him, desperation evident in your voice. You had never felt this way for anyone, not even the men who had come close to asking you to marry. No one had swept you off your feet like Enjolras had. 

“Then be with me,” Enjolras whispered, coming close enough that he could take your hands in his, running his thumbs along your knuckles, “Tell your father about us. We are unstoppable together, Y/N. Isn’t this what you want?”

You nodded, gazing into his chocolate brown eyes, “Of course this is what I want. I want you, I will always want you, but the beliefs you stand for will never be good enough for my father.” Pain fell past your lips like a waterfall, coming from the words you spoke, “He will never take us seriously, not unless we were to be engaged.” 

Enjolras’ eyes scanned your expression, noticing the pure love evident, “Then marry me.” He whispered, bringing your left hand to his lips. He left a small kiss on your hand, his beard gently scratching at your soft skin, “Tell him we are to be married. Tell him I have courted you.”

You shook your head in disbelief, not believing the words spilling past Enjolras’ lips, “It won’t be enough. To know his eldest daughter is to marry a revolutionary? He will forbid it.” You explained, looking to the window in Enjolras bedroom, “I really have to leave, if I’m not in my chambers when he wakes up then he will surely know.” 

As you moved away from Enjolras, determined on exiting his home, he wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you back to him. Your chests were pressed together, causing your breath to hitch within your throat, “Run away. Go home and pack some belongings. Run away tonight.” He pleaded, searching your eyes for any inkling that you would do as he said, “Just be with me. Be with me while we can.” 

“My sisters.” You whispered softly. Surely you couldn’t leave them behind. They looked to you for guidance and care, to be their pillar of consistency. You couldn’t just leave them without warning, “They won’t understand.” 

Enjolras leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to your lips, a fond and familiar feeling radiating off of him, “Leave them a letter. Tell them of our love.” He reasoned, “Won’t they simply be happy with our love for one another?”

You looked deep into Enjolras eyes as you thought about everything he was saying. Could you really escape your family's grasp so easily by running away? You were an adult, therefore you were simply taking control of your own life. They didn’t own you, even if it felt like they did. Maybe you could truly be happy and leave all this sneaking around behind. 

“I can’t give you anything if we marry. I alone have nothing to my name…no money, no fortune.” You said, shaking your head as you looked down at your hands clasped with Enjolras, “I can’t provide you with anything. I would have to take up a job as a barmaid in order to help with any finances. Your family surely wouldn’t be happy. You are an educated man Enjolras, how would they feel to have you marry a run away woman? Hm? A smart and wealthy man like yourself married to a woman who defied her family's values?”

Enjolras cupped your face with his hands, his fingertips sliding into your hair, tangling themselves softly within the long strands, “Our love is all you need to provide me with. As long as we are in love I couldn’t long for anything more.” He explained, pressing a brief kiss to your lips after speaking, “As for my family, their opinion on my life means nothing. If you are by my side, you are the only family that truly matters to me.” 

Your heart swelled at his words, feeling as though your chest would explode any moment. You had always felt the love Enjolras had for you, especially when spending the nights with him, or being delivered a note by one of his friends, but now, here in this moment, you knew it was all real. You leaned forwards and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. 

Your lips moved in sync with his, fitting perfectly together like puzzle pieces. You felt him nip softly at your bottom lip, causing a soft sigh to erupt from your chest. 

“I really have to go, especially since I’ll have to pack.” You said once you pulled away, keeping your arms around Enjolras’ neck. 

A wide grin spread across your angels face, looking down at you with a mix of passionate love and admiration, “You’re really going to run?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Does that mean you will marry me?

You nodded and smiled happily, a surge of love rushing through you, “Of course I will marry you.”

#josephquinn #enjolras #les mis #fanfic #joseph quinn #enjolras x reader #enjolras x you #enjolras angst #enjolras fluff #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn fic

[emotionallydrainedtrash]

L'art d'aimer

Masterlist

Enjolras x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, suggestive banter, PDA.

Summary: The Revolution long over, Enjolras found a girl and settled down. Him and his wife enjoy his birthday at home with old friends.

A/N As is evident, Enj and his mates lived. I hate death, especially theirs so they made everybody else eat dust instead.😤 Reblogs and feedback is so greatly appreciated! And I know Enj is very homo, me too, but this is very self-indulgent and I guess this makes it a notcanon OOC Enjolras but so be it! I needed a lil' bit of revolutionary x his wife in my life. I also wrote this picturing Aaron Tveit's Enj as opposed to Joseph Quinn's cause to me his version seems more likely to be hetero/fem attracted than Joe's but hey, whatever suits you.

"There's the happy couple!"

"Courferyac, you are in our house. Where else would we be?"

Courf chuckled, clearly tipsy as he spoke, "Forgive me. Your champagne is a little too delicious."

Laughing at his friend, Enjolras moved to sit down. Another trip around the sun had passed for him and his wife had organised a celebration. Marriage was hardly something the Enjolras of six years ago would've considered but times were different now. He'd met the love of his life and devoted himself to her, so clearly changed from his youth.

Even now she could feel his eyes on her as she moved to refill her teacup. Looking up from the teapot in her hands she met his gaze and smiled, eyes sparkling at the grin he returned. This was a new, softer, more relaxed Enjolras and she was proud to have been the one allowed to peel back the layers of strength and stoicism he flaunted around the tables of Le Cafe Musain.

Grantaire tapped on his own flute of champagne to bring everyone's attention to him.

"To our good friend and leader, Monsieur Apollo, joyeaux anniversaire! And may you have many more." And everyone cheered, applauding the golden man.

"And to his equally amazing wife, Madame Aphrodite, who planned this joyful event and will likely be getting very little sleep tonight!" And Grantaire threw her a dramatic wink as the room erupted into fits of giggles.

She shook her head and leaned on the table exasperated but clearly smiling.

Grinning from ear to ear, Joly called out to her, "I don't suppose you have one more present waiting for Enj upstairs do you?"

Enjolras found great amusement in the way his wife's jaw fell open in mock horror. Deciding to play along, he chimed in.

"Oh do tell my darling."

She rolled her eyes before retorting, "why on earth would I share that sort of information in such a setting."

"They are family after all love," Enjolras teased.

"Oui, but would you tell your maman what we did on our wedding night?" she shot back.

Enjolras flushed a deep red as Gavroche slapped him on the shoulder amongst his raucous cackles.

"Non, I suppose not."

Proud of her work, she took her cup and made to sit by her husband's side. He who had other plans, pulled her into his lap instead. Curling into him, the two observed the room of chosen family as they all turned to separate conversations and felt their hearts grow full at the love that was so prominent between each of them.

Shifting her hair to one side, Enjolras leaned forward to his lover's ear and spoke lowly, "About your sleep, R wasn't wrong you know."

She blushed and replied in equally hushed tones, "Neither was Joly."

And they shared a smile that only the two of them could decipher, as the candlelight sent shimmers of gold through their hair and made their eyes shine like silver. A portrait of true love if there ever was one. A loud cheer erupted as Enjolras touched his lips softly to hers and there was such adoration in the way his hand cupped her jaw and her fingers threaded themselves through his curls.

Breaking away with noses touching, they whispered the words that changed their lives all those years ago.

"I love you."

"Not more than I love you."

Monsieur Apollo couldn't help but feel like a god sometimes, and it was never without his goddess by his side.

A portrait of true love indeed.

#les miserables #enjolras #enjolras imagine #enjolras x reader #aaron tveit #aaron tveit imagine #aaron tveit x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn x reader

[bees--in-my--bones]

Beyond the Barricade

Masterlist

Character: Enjolras x f!reader

Summary: All you had ever known was life at the Musain. You worked hard to stay alive and keep your family comfortable, and that's all that you ever needed. But your life's path will be forever altered by a young revolutionary who has his sights set on changing the world.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, slightly suggestive

Word Count: 19,000

A/N: Enjolras x Reader!! I love this guy so hopefully this isn't half bad. It's all one big long part because I didn't really have a good way to break it up, but I had a couple ideas for scenes that didn't make it in, so if this does well maybe I'll write a couple short one shot things.

Also just want to clarify I'm not an expert, I watched the movie and read wiki articles, but I haven't gotten around to reading the book so there's some stuff I'm just kinda extrapolating. Like I'm pretty sure they meet in the back room of the Musain, but they just meet in the upper floor here. And in the final battle there's the Musain as the base of operations and a non named tavern where they keep the bodies and Javert, just for my own storytelling purposes. (Even though I think there's another place in the book or something idk)

Anyway, enjoy!

-----

You scrubbed at the counter until your arm burned, trying your hardest to get the stains out. Despite your best efforts, nothing budged. You sighed and tossed the rag into your bucket of soapy water, moving on to the leftover dishes strewn across the counter top.

The Café Musain would open soon, and your sister had not done the work that your father had asked of her the night before. So now, as usual, the chores fell to you, while your sister was out gallivanting, probably with one of those ridiculous Amis de l'ABC. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the mere thought of them. Their revolution had merit, sure, but a fight against the monarchy was hopeless for a bunch of schoolboys. Your father, however, was sympathetic to their cause, so he allowed them to use the upstairs room of the café whenever they pleased.

Your father lumbered through the door, already tired in his old age and having spent the morning arguing with vendors and traders, trying to prevent them from increasing the supply prices yet again. He paused, taking a moment to catch his breath after the long walk and looked around the café. When he saw you behind the counter, he sighed. "Where is your sister? Why is she not helping you?"

You shrugged. "Marie is out and about, I suppose. I can't keep track of all her callers."

Your father pinched his brow. "Okay," he sighed. "Okay."

He made his way over to a table and lowered himself into a chair.

You finished cleaning the glass and filled it with fresh water. Making your way around the bar, you set it down in front of your father.

"Thank you, Y/N," he said softly. He sighed again and leaned back in his chair. "Les Amis de l'ABC are coming tonight. I know your sister usually tends to them, but I want you to do it today. I hate to say this, but she needs to be put in line. I want her to have her fun, but we're struggling here, and if she cannot tend to her duties properly, she doesn't get to do the jobs she likes."

"You're punishing her?"

The nights that Les Amis came to the café, you usually let Marie take care of them. They were a bit too much for you, and you didn't mind working up front while she got to flirt with the students as they planned their revolution. She was not going to be happy about this, and you weren't exactly thrilled either.

"I think it's appropriate discipline," he replied, "until she can manage to balance her work and social life. We are better off than most, but we cannot afford to neglect our work."

"I understand, Papa. I'll talk to her later. "

He laid one of his large hands over yours. "Thank you, Y/N. I'm going up to my room now. I need to go over the books once more before we open."

The big man stood and patted your shoulder gently before exiting the room, leaving you alone in the empty café.

—--

You glanced at the old clock on the wall. You were supposed to open in a matter of minutes, and still no sign of Marie. Usually your father would have come back to help, but you imagined he had fallen asleep in the small apartment upstairs. You decided not to wake him. Your sister and you could manage on your own, provided she showed up, and the old man needed what rest he could get.

You snapped up your head at the door creaking open. In walked Marie, who you hadn't seen since the night before. She rubbed her eyes, all but ignoring you, and grabbed the rag from its bucket, beginning to clean off the counter.

You plucked the rag from her hands, tossing it back in the bucket. When she looked at you in confusion, you sighed.

"It's already done, Marie. I spent the morning doing both of our chores, which I didn't even get to until much later than I should have, because I had to clean up the mess you left last night." You had to admit, you weren't even that upset, just tired.

She tugged at her sleeve and looked away sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I really did think that I would have been back sooner. But my friends and I-"

You waved your hand. "It doesn't matter." You grabbed the broom out of the corner and handed it to her. "Give the floors a once over before we open."

She took the broom without complaint and began sweeping. You sat down at one of the tables, giving your feet a much needed break.

"Les Amis de l'ABC are coming tonight," you told her, watching as she moved about the room.

Instantly she perked up. "You know, I think Courfeyrac has his eye on me."

You leaned forward in your seat, resting your head on your hand. "Shame we'll never find out."

She paused her sweeping. "What do you mean?"

You gestured for her to keep sweeping, which she hesitantly did. "Papa says you aren't allowed to tend to Les Amis until you can show up to work when you're supposed to."

Marie opened the door with a loud sigh and swept out her pile of dust. "I suppose that means you're doing it then."

"Yes."

She moved to sit on the counter with another loud and dramatic sigh. "Fine. Tell Courfeyrac I said hello."

You shifted in your seat to face her. "You aren't upset?"

She shrugged. "I knew that Papa would be fed up sooner or later. I'm just glad the punishment isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"Why do you do it, Marie, leaving us with all the work? Why don't you care about the family?"

"I do," she protested. "I do care about you. I guess I just find my life difficult to come to terms with. Is this café where I spend the rest of my days?"

You joined her behind the counter as the first few customers began to trickle in. "We do not live in a forgiving world, sister. If you want a stable job and home, then likely so. Unless you manage to find a rich man somewhere willing to marry a barmaid."

Marie let out a short laugh. "That would be the day."

—--

Soon, the café was bustling with the evening business.

Your father entered the room, looking slightly more rested than he had earlier that afternoon. You were glad, he deserved the reprieve.

He approached the bar and motioned for you to come talk to him.

He leaned over to you and lowered his voice. "Our.. guests' meeting is about to begin. Your sister and I will take over out here. Bring a few bottles of wine up, they usually start with those."

With a nod, you gathered up the drinks and glasses and made your way to the private upper room. As you approached you heard a strong voice speaking confidently. "Too long have the people of France lived under the thumbs of dictators. I thank you all for joining me today to fight for a new world, a world reborn."

You slipped into the room, staying in the shadow of the doorframe, meaning to allow the speech to come to a natural pause before interrupting. You didn't get the chance, however, before a voice in the corner cried. "Marie! How nice of you to join us!"

"That's not Marie, you louse, that's her sister!" another voice cried, this one much higher than the first. You glanced down in front of you and your eyes widened.

"Gavroche!" You couldn't help but exclaim, startled to see Eponine's younger brother. "Does your sister know you are here?"

"Yep!" The boy said proudly. "I'd be happy to take that off your hands, milady," he said, reaching for the tray of wine.

You lifted it out of his reach. "I think you're a bit young for me to be giving you this."

A hand rested on the boy's shoulder. "Pardon young Gavroche, he only wishes to be of help."

You looked up and met the eye of the blond man who had been speaking at the front of the room only moments ago. Your breath hitched for a moment at his intense gaze.

"I can take the wine," he added when you said nothing. You blinked away your initial startledness and handed the tray over to him.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle," he said. He leaned closer to you, a conspiratorial look on his face. "We'll likely need another round soon, though, knowing these men."

"Of course, Monsieur. I'll be back soon to check on you all. I'll be up front if you need anything before then."

The rest of the night was spent going back and forth, clearing away a glass or two at a time, doing your best not to draw attention.

At the end of the night, you stood behind the counter, counting the night's earnings as customers began to leave.

Marius approached the counter, as he always did this time of night, after Les Amis had had their fill of drinks and politics and were heading home.

"Good evening, Monsieur Marius," you greeted him.

"Hello, Y/N." He handed you a pouch of coins. "This should cover the tab, along with a little extra as a tip. You did excellent on your first night with us."

His tone was slightly teasing. He knew you would rather stay behind the counter. But you weren't lying when you shrugged and said "I didn't mind it all that much. Work is work, people are people." You counted out the change as he watched, sorting it into neat piles. "They're making you pay again?"

"They all chip in," he said. "They just make me take it up to you. Trying to force me to talk to people, I think" he said with a grin.

You laughed softly and put the money away. "Have a good night, Marius."

"You too, Y/N."

You watched the young man leave the café before turning to get the cleaning supplies out. When your father saw what you were doing, he came over and took the supplies from you. "Marie will take care of the cleaning up after Les Amis de l'ABC are gone from here on out," he told you.

You raised an eyebrow. "You don't think that's harsh?"

"It is. That's precisely the point."

Marie sighed one of her signature sighs as she passed by and took the cleaning supplies from your father, the same way he had taken them from you. "You two go on up to bed then, I'll take care of this."

Your father gave her a little pat. "Good that, Marie," he said, before turning and making his way to his room.

"I think I'll go sit outside for a while," you told her. "It's a nice night."

She shrugged. "I'm not your boss."

Shaking your head, you opened the creaky door and sat on the concrete step leading up to it, leaning your back on one of the pillars that framed the entrance. The city was silent this time of night, and you loved the brief respite from your hectic life. You hadn't been able to enjoy it in a while, though, thanks to Marie and her antics always leaving you with far more work than free time.

No sooner had you relaxed than the door opened once more, spilling warm light from inside on to the dark street.

You jumped to your feet, startled by the sudden intrusion. "I am so sorry, Mademoiselle," said the silhouette at the same time you started splattering muddled apologies, your brain still scrambled from the scare.

The voice gave you pause. You recognized that voice. As the figure stepped away from the door, you realized why. The leader of Les Amis de l'ABC stepped on to the street, concern in his eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

You nodded as you smoothed down your clothes taking your seat once more. "You startled me is all. I didn't think any patrons were still here."

He shrugged. "I was working on a paper and Marie kicked me out."

"If you need to finish, I'm sure I could-"

"No, no," he interrupted. "Thank you, but I can finish it another night."

"Alright then," you said. "Goodnight, Monsieur."

He gave you a curt nod. "Mademoiselle." Turning on his heel he began to make his way down the street. He only made it a few steps before turning back towards you. "Actually, I do have a question for you. You seem like you actively avoid my little group, but tonight you replaced Marie. Why?"

"Marie was being punished, that is all. Our father told her she could not work with you all because she enjoys it."

"And you don't."

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He asked no question, only offered an observation.

"You don't agree with our ideals," he said when you didn't respond. Another observation. He stepped forward, offering you his arm. "Walk with me. Allow me to convince you."

You laughed softly at his boldness. "Is that what you say to all the women?"

A hint of a smile brushed his lips. "Only the pretty ones."

"I don't know," you said, now smiling as well, your teasing tone juxtaposing your objections, "walking off with a strange man at night sounds dangerous."

"What if I promise to protect you?"

You glanced back at the door, light glowing from the crack at the bottom. With a sudden burst of resolve, you pushed yourself off of the stone and took his outstretched arm. "I'm going to hold you to that promise."

"I'd expect nothing less."

The two of you walked side by side in the night. Neither of you spoke for a while, but the silence was comfortable.

"So why do you avoid us?" he asked, finally breaking the quiet.

"I don't avoid you, per say…"

He only raised an eyebrow in response.

You shrugged. "I only think that you are taking great risks to do what you do, and have seen very little reward. It's not something I want a part in."

"The reward will come," he responded. "In time. Even if we are not there to see it."

"In time, perhaps," you said. "But I find it difficult to justify jeopardizing what I have for a world that I will not live to see."

"But what of those who have nothing to jeopardize? People suffer because of tyrants that hoard all of the wealth. France is dying because of the rich who hold the resources captive."

You stayed quiet for a moment after that, pondering. Finally you asked, "Say you're starting to convince me, what can a few schoolboys possibly do?"

"Light the flame of revolution. We won't be fighting the war, merely the first battles. We are not foolish enough to believe that change will come quickly, but if we give it all we have, people will rise when we fall. Then one day the world we long to see will come into fruition."

Again, this gave you pause, as you pondered over the words and their meaning. "Would you mind terribly if I sat in on the next meeting? Of course, I would still do any of the services your group needs."

"That depends," he replied, his tone light. "Would you be sitting in the way that Marie does, or would it be to listen to what we are discussing?"

This made you laugh. No doubt Marie was often a distraction in meetings, with her bubbly personality and her need to make friends with any human being who crossed her path. "I would like to think the latter," you told him.

He smiled. "Then I would be honored that you join us." He slowed and came to a halt. "I believe this is your stop, Mademoiselle."

Sure enough, you had made a full loop around the block without even realizing it, and you were back at the front door of the Café Musain.

"Right," you said, "I'll be seeing you soon, then." You dropped his arm. "Goodnight, Monsieur."

Taking your hand in his, he bent over and pressed a feather light kiss to your knuckles. "Goodnight, Mademoiselle."

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks at his gentle touch.

With a final nod goodbye, you turned toward the door. You had only made it a step when he shouted, "Wait!"

You stopped and turned around to face him, waiting for him to say something more.

“I never learned your name,”

“Y/N,” you called. “And yours?”

“Enjolras.”

“Well then, goodnight Enjolras, and I will see you again soon.”

“Goodnight, Y/N, I look forward to it.”

—--

When you walked in, the chores were complete, the lights were out, and Marie was nowhere to be found. As silently as possible, you made your way up the stairs, past the upper room that held the Amis meeting space, and into the small apartment on the topmost level. Your father's door was shut tight, but you could hear his snores even through the thick oak frame. You cracked the door to your small room and slipped in, trying to avoid waking Marie in the next room over. You quickly slipped on your nightclothes and ducked under the covers, heart still thumping in your chest from the excitement of the night.

"Where were you?"

You jumped up at the sudden noise as Marie's whispered question broke the silence to see your sister looking through a crack in your open door.

Your chest tightened at the question, but you responded hesitantly, "I went on a walk."

"That's not the whole truth," she said, slipping into your room.

"How would you know that?" you hissed in response.

"I saw you walking with someone."

So there was no hiding it then. Not that you had a reason to, it was just a friendly conversation. "Enjolras."

Marie gasped loudly.

"Shhh!"

"Oh, stop it," she said. "Papa is fast asleep."

She lit the candle on your small nightstand and plopped herself down on your bed with such force you couldn't help but make a soft "oof" sound. "What were you doing with Enjolras?"

You shrugged. "He saw me outside and asked to talk to me about his revolution, so we did, that's all."

"Ugh," said Marie. "Boring. I've never been able to get him to say more than a few words to me though, so clearly something you're doing is working."

Your eyes widened at the implications of her statement. "I'm not doing anything! We were just talking!"

Marie looked disbelievingly at you. "Mhm, sure. You have to admit he's attractive though."

You hid your face beneath the covers, which she promptly yanked down. "I'm going to take that as you agreeing with me," she said.

"Even if I did agree with you," you said, swatting away her hand, "there's nothing to do about it. He's more interested in the revolution, and his family is far wealthier than ours."

"True," she said, "but he has never once tried to recruit me for the cause, even before I started getting a little friendly with some of the boys. And how can you truly think class would matter to him? It's the antithesis of who he is."

"I'm sitting in on the meeting next time."

Marie nodded. "Good. And you'll be waiting for him at the steps again at the end of the night."

"I will?"

"Of course. You must establish a pattern."

Your jaw dropped. "Marie, are you trying to set us up?"

"Yes," she answered shortly. "And it's going to work." She pinched out the candle and left back to her own room without so much as a goodnight.

—--

You thought about Enjolras a lot the next few days. There wasn't even much cohesive thought to it, just his smile, his warm hands, the way the dim street lights shone through his hair.

The rest of Les Amis de l’ABC were regular customers of the café. They were loud and jovial on the nights they had no official meeting, but never had you seen Enjolras on a night that there was no meeting. Now that you were listening, though, you heard the other students speak of him. He preferred to stay home studying and planning than spend his nights out and about.

You replayed the memory of your walk over and over in your mind, for no reason other than the joy it brought you to remember him.

Finally, finally, the day came when Les Amis de l'ABC would meet again above the Café Musain. You hated to admit it, in the fear that you were getting excited over nothing, but your heart buzzed all morning at the thought of seeing him again. The customers began to arrive and you busied yourself in the back doing inventory as your father made the night's meal.

Marie poked her head around the corner. "Y/N, he's- they're here," she corrected herself quickly after seeing your father.

"Thank you, Marie," you said, and gathered up the tray of drinks you had already prepared.

Your father looked up from his task. "Good luck."

Muttering a quick "Thank you," you slipped out the door and made your way upstairs. Like the last time, the meeting had just started by the time you got there. It came to a quick halt as you entered though, as the men realized that drinks had arrived.

You made eye contact with Enjolras from across the room, and you did your best to ignore the butterflies from his intense gaze. He made no move to get to the drinks like the rest of the men did, but you gave him a small smile and he nodded briefly in return.

You spent the majority of the night in the back of the room, listening, save for the time you spent running for drinks and food. The more you listened, the more you found yourself being swayed towards the revolution. The things they spoke of called to mind all of the suffering people you saw around you, even in your small sheltered corner of the world. Who knew how bad it was in the areas of the city even poorer than yours, or rough areas like the docks, where you were forbidden to even go.

Enjolras was a strong leader, confident and well spoken, and it was clear that he was respected by everyone in the room. It made you wonder why a man who already had plenty of people that agreed with him and the ability to sway many more was wasting his time by radicalizing a singular barmaid. Free drinks on the battlefield, maybe.

Like all nights, this one came to an end. You gathered up the dishes and took them out to Marie, who had begun cleaning the kitchen. Les Amis de l'ABC began filing out the door, talking loud and cheerily as they left.

You placed the dishes into the bucket of soapy water, earning a sharp look from Marie.

"Get out there," she said. "He'll be out soon."

You shook your head. "Marie, he's probably already left with everyone else. I know what Papa said about your punishment, but at least let me do the dishes."

Did you want to do the dishes? No. Were you far too nervous to come face to face with Enjolras again, now that Marie had put all these ideas in your head? Absolutely.

Marie quickly moved in front of you, blocking you from the dishes. "He hasn't left yet, I have to kick him out every single time he has one of these meetings."

"Marie-"

"Go."

Giving her a sharp glare, you obliged. As you sat on the stone and leaned against one of the pillars framing the door, you closed your eyes and let out a sigh of contentment. Enjolras or not, you had a sizable appreciation for the peaceful night.

Like before, you were alone in the night, and like before, it didn't last long.

The door creaked open, gentler than it had last time, and light once more flooded the street.

"Ah, Mademoiselle, I was wondering if I would find you out here again."

You stood and turned towards the voice, pleased to see that the small smile on your face matched his own.

"I thought I had given you my name?"

He held up his hands in concession. "My apologies. Y/N, I was wondering if I would see you here again."

"Well, here I am,"

"Here you are indeed."

The moment's silence that followed was far more awkward than any silence had been last time, but he made no move to leave. You cleared your throat. "Working on a paper again?"

He chuckled. "I usually am. Marie is responsible for cleaning again?"

You nodded. "For the foreseeable future."

He nodded, and things were silent again.

It was his turn to clear his throat. "Care to take another walk? You can tell me what you thought of the meeting."

You stepped toward the street, looking back at him. "I thought you'd never ask."

And so you did walk. And again after the next meeting. And again after the next.

You talked of politics at first, but your conversations soon gave way to more personal matters. Talks of opinions, and the future. His favorite color was red. He was in law school. He told you he wanted to help people who couldn't help themselves, but he didn't need to say anything for you to figure that out. He was not warm or welcoming, not on the outside, but his compassion for others was evident in everything that he did.

You noticed that he started coming to the café far more regularly. At least once a week he would sit working silently in the most private corner of the upper room, never ordering, but he would always meet you at the end of the night for your walk.

You found yourself spending all your time thinking of him. He was on your mind in every idle moment. But still, you hesitated to admit why.

You fell into a routine on meeting nights, and no longer felt dread before attending them. On one such night, you were running a bit late. You hurriedly made your way up the stairs, only to be greeted outside the door by a seemingly flustered Enjolras.

He took you by the shoulders and guided you away from the doorframe.

Tucked in the corner of the hallway, he glanced worriedly over his shoulder. "Can Marie work tonight?" he asked.

You shook your head. “It’s just me and Papa tonight, actually. Marie is sick. I actually needed to talk to you about that. It’s why I was late up here and why I won’t be able to stay for the meeting tonight.”

“Let me take the drinks in, then,” he said. “Best that you get back downstairs.”

“Oh, that’s alright. It’ll only take me a moment,” you replied, trying to move past him.

“Y/N, please do not go in there.”

“What is this about, Enjorlas? You’re acting strange.”

“I will tell you later.”

You pushed past him, balancing your tray on one hand. “Or you could let me do my job,” you said, walking to the doorway. He reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“Y/N, please.”

You pulled your hand away and walked into the room. The second you entered, you were greeted with shouts of your name, accompanied by hearty laughter. The men were usually excited to get their drinks, but never this excited.

In the corner, one man grabbed his closest companion tightly. “Y/N, my love!” he cried, gazing into the other man’s eyes. “Nothing can tear us apart!”

The other man clasped his hands together and fluttered his eyelashes while speaking in a high pitched voice, “Oh, Enjolras, run away with me!”

“Enjolras” took “Y/N” into his embrace, the two of them writhing in what you could only assume was an exaggerated passionate kiss, earning plenty more laughs from the rest of the men.

You could do nothing but stare in horror as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. A gentle hand rested on your shoulder, and you looked up at Enjolras, your eyes still wide in shock. “Someone saw us out walking together, and the story spread,” he told you gravely. “I am truly sorry.”

You gently removed his hand from your shoulder, not wanting to give the men any more ideas than they already have, and your shocked expression morphed into a determined one. “You have nothing to apologize for, but these men do.”

You slammed the drink tray on the table, and the harsh sound was enough to gain everyone’s attention. “I don’t know what you all think is happening,” you began, “but I can guarantee that anything happening between Enjorlas and I is none of anyone’s business but our own. But since you must know, he has been teaching me politics so that I can better understand these meetings, which up until now, had been full of men I respected. My father does you all a great service by allowing you to meet here, and by disrespecting me, you disrespect him. Not to mention the disrespect to the man who leads you sorry lot.”

You pushed the drink tray to the center of the table. “Serve yourselves tonight.” Turning on your heel, you stormed out of the room. There was no protest, only deafening silence. You did not look back, remaining steady on your course, but if you had, you would have noticed the small proud smile on Enjolras’ face.

—--

You finished the clean up as fast as you could that night, in the hope that you would still be able to catch Enjolras before he left. To your dismay, you caught a glimpse of him leaving right around his usual time, even without Marie to kick him out. You finished up the rest of your work, feeling quite disappointed, and made your way outside regardless. May as well get some fresh night air if you still could.

To your surprise, you found a familiar figure waiting. Enjolras was silhouetted in the darkness of the street, but there was enough light to see when he outstretched his hand toward you. “Care to join me?” he asked.

Silently, you took his hand, and the pair of you began your usual stroll.

After some silence, he finally spoke. "Like I told you before, one of the boys saw us out walking after the last meeting. The mockery has been nonstop since. You have my sincerest apologies that you had to hear that."

"It's not your fault. We both know it means nothing."

But did it mean nothing? Not if you asked Marie. And maybe, just maybe, there was a small part of you that didn't quite mind what those men were saying.

"Nothing?" asked Enjolras, his voice tight.

You kept your sights straight ahead, unable to look him in the eyes. "I only mean to say that what we do is our business, no one else's."

He seemed to relax almost imperceptibly when you said that, and you couldn't decide if that made you feel better or worse.

Suddenly, you felt a droplet on your skin. Looking up at the sky, you could just make out the edges of the clouds in the inky darkness. You had barely made it a few more steps when the rain sped up, moving quickly from a drizzle to a downpour.

Almost instinctively, Enjolras shrugged off his coat and held it above the two of you, trying to offer the best protection he could from the rain. “This way,” he said, his voice raised slightly to be heard above the sound of droplets hitting the ground. He led you to a shop front with a small outcropping, where the two of you huddled, trying to stay as dry as possible. Despite Enjolras’ best efforts, though, both of you were soaking wet.

“Here,” he said, wrapping his coat around you. “We can wait here for a while until the rain slows down.”

“Oh, I don’t need this,” you tried to protest as you began to take off his coat. “Better that you stay dry, you’ve got a longer route home.”

“I insist,” he replied, pulling the coat around you once more. “I would be abandoning any gentlemanly values I have left if I let you give this back to me. Winter is creeping closer and this rain is freezing.”

You held his gaze for a moment, trying to gauge if you had any chance of convincing him to take it back, but were met only with his intense eyes and sheer determination behind them. Deciding that he really wasn’t going to take the coat back, you pulled it closer around you. He gently pulled his arm around you, and without even thinking about it, you nestled into his side. The soft pitter patter of the rain was peaceful, and you were pretty sure you could have fallen asleep there if you had wanted to.

“Y/N?” Enjolras broke the silence after a while.

“Yes?”

“I must confess something to you. I have to admit, I was not… completely bothered by what my men have been saying about us. I do not appreciate their mockery, but… I don’t mind when they talk of us being together.”

You pulled back, looking up at him in shock. “What are you saying?”

Reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face, he chose not to respond with words, instead moving his hand to your jawline and drawing you gently into his face, planting a light kiss on your lips. When he pulled away, your face was burning and you were left speechless. His gaze was darker than you had ever seen it before. Seeing the stunned look on your face, he stood and offered you his hand, refusing to meet your eyes again. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was out of turn. Let’s get you home.”

You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t out of turn, that you felt the same way, but you were paralyzed, overwhelmed by your emotions, so you took his hand and made your way home through the downpour. You moved like a zombie, feelings burning bright on the inside, but unable to articulate any of it outwardly.

—--

Marie was asleep when you got back, and you quickly and silently got into bed, piling a few extra blankets on top to combat the steadily dropping temperatures. As you drifted off to sleep, your thoughts were filled with Enjolras, and you could only hope that he had made it home safely and warmly, and that you hadn't offended him too terribly.

—--

You woke the next day to white flurries outside your window. It was the first snow of the season, and it showed no signs of stopping. As of now, it was only a light dusting, but you were sure that by late afternoon the ground would be covered. Marie was up and about, having recovered from yesterday's sickness, and your father only spent part of the day out of his room, retiring early because of the cold’s poor effect on his old bones. You and Marie spent the evening by the warmth of the kitchen fire, chatting, reading, and working on various projects since no patrons had made their way through the thick snow that blanketed all by now. It grew darker outside and the snow grew higher. Marie had just begun to suggest heading to bead when you heard a knock at the door.

You exchanged worried glances and Marie quickly made her way to the front of the store, with you following close behind. She opened the door and let out a large gasp.

“Enjolras?” she said, clearly taken aback.

“Is Y/N there?”

She stepped aside, allowing him to see you. He rushed forward, gripping your shoulders firmly, as Marie shut the door behind him as fast as she could. He seemed to be completely unaffected by his blue lips or his usually curly hair that was frozen into frizzy chunks.

His gaze was more intense than you had ever seen it, his blue eyes seeming to bore into your very soul. “Y/N, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go another moment without seeing you again. Last night was all wrong, I know that, but I need you to know how I feel, and I need to say it properly.”

“That can wait,” you replied before he could continue. “We need to get you warmed up right now, before you get sick. I don’t need to explain to my neighbors why a rich boy died of frostbite in my home.”

“Marie,” you said, taking Enjolras’ hand and leading him to the kitchen, “will you grab my blankets from my bed and bring them down here? And see if there's any of Papa's old clothes about? I’m going to heat up some of our leftover dinner.”

Marie gave you a mischievous look, glancing back and forth between you and Enjolras, but for once in her life she kept quiet and did what was asked of her, and she scampered upstairs to get all the extra winter furs she could find.

“Take off every layer that you can without exposing yourself,” you told him. “Marie will bring back a change of clothes, but the wet clothes are going to be what kills you if you don’t get out of them.” He complied silently removing his coat and layer beneath that, leaving him only in a button down undershirt and trousers.

You busied yourself getting him something hot to eat. "Thank the Lord that Marie never cleans up after herself," you muttered to yourself when you noticed that she had left the pot she had used for dinner out above the fire, keeping the small amount of soup still inside of it warm.

The entire time, Enjolras' gaze never left you, waiting for you to relax for a moment before he spoke again. He would have to wait longer, though, because just as you set the soup in front of him, Marie entered the kitchen with a large pile of blankets. She set them down next to the hearth and brushed her hands together. "Well, unless you two need me any longer, I think I'll head up to bed."

"Alright. Thank you, Marie, goodnight," you said.

"Yes, thank you, Marie," Enjolras added.

Marie left, with a wink to you behind Enjolras’ back. Ignoring her goading, you turned toward the hearth, throwing your last log on and stoking the dying flames higher. When at last you were satisfied with your work, you turned to find Enjolras standing, and an empty bowl set on the table.

"Y/N I-"

You shoved a shirt and pants into his hands. "You're soaked to the bone. Change."

"You're avoiding this."

He was always too perceptive, wasn't he? Yes you were avoiding it. It wasn’t as simple as I love you and you love me. There was your status, his status, the work you had to do and the degree he was working towards. The revolution you were fighting.

You started to move past him, out of the kitchen, to give him some privacy. “Obviously. Regardless, you still need to change.” There was no denying that you were avoiding the subject to him- he knew you all too well.

His arm reached out, lightning fast, and he grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. His grip was firm, but not painful. You avoided his gaze, waiting for him to let you go, or say something. “Help me, then.”

You looked up, finally making eye contact. You could see the dare dancing behind his eyes. He knew it would be improper. He also knew you would do anything he asked of you. Without breaking eye contact, he slid his hand down your arm and took your hand, slowly guiding it up to the top button of his shirt. You stood silent and stony faced, weighing your options. Finally caving, you reached up with your other hand and began undoing his shirt, slowly, your fingers brushing lightly against his skin with every button.

“You’re upset,” he said, his voice low.

“You noticed?” The sarcasm dripped from your question.

“I notice everything about you.”

You clenched your jaw as you undid the last button and he shrugged the shirt off of his shoulders. You turned slightly to the side, trying to avoid looking at his bare torso. From noticing the way his skin gleamed in the firelight. From watching the way that the melted snow ran down his body.

“Why did you come here tonight?” you asked.

“I told you. I did not get a chance to tell you how I felt properly. Nor did I give you a chance to respond.”

“At the risk of your life? You could have gotten lost in this storm, and then what? You wander for hours until you freeze to death?”

“You truly think so little of my navigation skills?”

You rolled your eyes. “Say your piece then.”

He stepped towards you, taking your chin in his hand and slowly guiding your face to look at his. “I have never met anyone who makes me as happy as you do. I count down the minutes until our next walk together. I want to be with you as much as possible. Seeing you only once in a while is not enough for me. You are smart, hard-working, and kind, and I want a future with you. I love you, Y/N.”

For all your bravado, your angry facade melted the moment he finished speaking. Your voice was weak, barely above a whisper. “Never did I think I would hear you say those words. I love you too, Enjolras.”

This time, you initiated the kiss. It was far more passionate than the last. Enjolras kept one hand firmly on the side of your face, and snaked the other around your waist, pulling you close to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You kissed him until you couldn’t anymore, finally having to come up for air. You pressed your forehead to his, panting slightly.

The reality of what happened suddenly hit you. You had just kissed Enjolras, who was currently holding you very tightly against his very bare chest. And the air around you was still freezing. Gently, you pushed yourself away from him. “Finish changing,” you told him. “I’ll be right back with more firewood.”

He smiled. You had never seen him smile so brightly. “Come back quickly,'' he whispered as you left.

—--

The cold outside was unbearable, even in the back alley behind the café where you stored the firewood. How had Enjolras made the journey all the way from his school in this? Grabbing a bundle, you rushed back inside, hurrying back to the kitchen and its warmth. When you entered, you found a fully clothed Enjolras curled up in the large pile of blankets on the floor next to the hearth.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, the worry evident on his face. “You’re shivering!”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk. I’m glad you have the color back in your cheeks. You had me worried.” You threw more logs on the fire, stoking the flames to a much more considerable size. You set down the poker, but did not get the chase to stand before you were being pulled into a mass of fur and warmth. Before you knew it, you were once again wrapped in Enjolras’ embrace. Surrounded by blankets and his strong arms, you were so warm.

“Please stay,” he said gently.

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

He kissed the top of your head, and you were lulled to sleep by his gentle breathing and the sounds of the crackling flames.

—--

When you woke, Enjolras was still asleep. Judging by the dying flames in the fireplace, it had only been a few hours.

Carefully, you removed yourself from Enjolras’ embrace and out of the pile of blankets. You wanted nothing more than to stay with him, but you would prefer to not have to explain to your father why you were in such a compromising position.

"I wouldn't dream of leaving" you had told him only a little while ago, but you knew he would understand.

Silently, you made your way to your room. Making a stop at Marie’s room, you stole a few of the blankets off of her massive pile and curled up in your bed, drifting back to sleep with a smile on your face and warmth in your heart.

—--

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and pushed yourself out of bed. Marie's door was still shut, and as you walked out of your room, you saw your father's door wide open, with him nowhere inside. You grimaced, hoping that he hadn't been too upset after finding Enjolras.

As you made your way downstairs, you were astonished to hear your father's hearty laughter from the kitchen. Of course, you really shouldn't have been. Your father had always sympathized with Les Amis de l'ABC, and he had no way of knowing what Enjolras had said or done last night. You shivered as you remembered his gentle touch and the way he held you.

Rounding the corner you were greeted by your father and Enjolras, who were talking at one of the tables in the main seating area.

"Good morning chouchou!" your father called. "Enjolras has been telling me of you and Marie's heroics last night."

Enjolras nodded. "It was quite foolish of me to think I could visit Grantaire and make it back to my own home before the worst of the storm hit. I am incredibly grateful I was able to stop here," he said, giving you a pointed look as he subtly filled you in on the story he had told your father.

"I'm just glad you were not stranded out in the storm," you told him, taking a seat at the table.

"You can imagine my surprise when I found him curled up next to our fireplace this morning," your father said. "Speaking of, I should go prepare breakfast. I was a bit distracted after finding Enjolras." He gave you a quick pat on the shoulder and disappeared into the kitchen.

You turned to Enjolras, your voice lowered so your father could not hear. "You lied to him?"

"I didn't know if you wanted him to know or not," he replied. "Should I have told him the truth?"

You thought for a moment, and then shook your head. "Give it a little more time, I think. We're only just figuring it out."

Before he could reply, your father stuck his head out from the kitchen. "Y/N, would you go wake Marie? Breakfast will only be a few minutes."

—--

For a day trapped inside, it flew by surprisingly quickly. Once Marie joined you, your group spent much of the day around the table, talking and exchanging stories. The snow had stopped, but your father insisted that Enjolras stay one night more to give the drifts that covered the streets more time to melt. After several protests, Enjolras agreed.

Your father and Marie had turned in for the night (Marie far too eagerly), leaving you and Enjolras completely alone, just like the night before. You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, unsure of what to say.

"Alone at last," Enjolras remarked.

"Indeed," you replied, your tone light and teasing. "What to do?"

He smiled fully, a rare sight to see. "I have a few ideas."

He leaned across the table, meeting you halfway, as he captured your lips in a kiss just as passionate as the one from the night before. Slowly, without breaking the kiss, he stood and maneuvered you so that you were sitting on the table, him standing between your legs. You ran your fingers through his silky blond curls, tangling your hands in his hair as you drew him closer to you.

Eventually you had to stop. The short pauses between kisses was not nearly enough to catch your breath.

You broke away, the both of you panting, and you buried your head in Enjolras’ neck.

"I love you," he whispered.

You slowly pulled away, the lightheartedness of the past few moments fading as reality crashing back down on you. "Enjolras, I think we need to talk about that."

His brow furrowed. "I thought you told me you loved me too."

You sighed, unable to meet his eyes. "I do it's just-"

"Go on." His voice was low, gravely serious, but not threatening. You felt safe with him, you always had.

"You are in a completely different class of society than I am. I know you don't care, but that does not change the obstacles that come along with it if we want a future together. And the revolution! How can we truly commit to one another if the most important thing is France?"

When he didn't respond, you raised your eyes to finally meet his and saw that his gaze had softened considerably as had his words when he finally spoke. "We can face those challenges together, when they come. And the revolution is not an obstacle so long as our love for this city binds us together."

You nodded, a silent agreement to his reassurement. He took your face in his hands. "I know you, Y/N, and you know me. Our love for each other is stronger than anything the world can throw our way."

"I'm going to hold you to that," you whispered.

"You had better."

You leaned back into him, planting a kiss on his lips, far gentler than the one before.

"I should probably go up to my own bed," you told him, your voice all too easily betraying your hesitating to leave him.

"Goodnight, chérie," he said, placing a kiss on your brow before he moved to the side, allowing you to hop off the table and walk past him.

You didn't get very far when you felt him grab your hand and spin you around until he was holding you tightly against him once more and pressing one last kiss to your lips.

You broke away and brushed a golden lock of hair away from his eyes. "Goodnight Enjolras, I will see you in the morning."

—--

Enjolras left early the next morning, the snow having melted enough for him to make the journey safely. "A few days' time," he told you, "Then I will be back for a Les Amis de l'ABC meeting."

You helped your father work in the kitchen, preparing for the guests that would surely arrive that afternoon now that the snow had subsided. Marie worked on cleaning tables and floors in the outer rooms.

"So," your father began. "You and Enjolras?"

You froze, your eyes widening at the unexpected comment. "Whatever do you mean, Papa?"

Your father laughed heartily. "You think that I do not notice? You look at that man like he is the greatest thing you have seen, and he looks at you the same way. Not to mention the walks you two have been taking for quite some time now."

You stared in disbelief. "You knew?"

"Of course I knew. You and Marie aren't as secretive as you think you are. I'm happy for you chouchou. Enjolras is a good man, and I can tell he makes you happy."

"Thank you, Papa," you said sheepishly. You scooped up the pile of inventory you had been working on and left the kitchen to take it to the storage, shaking your head and muttering to yourself, "He knew the whole time." Try as you might, though, you couldn't shake the smile from your face.

—---

The rest of the night was largely uneventful. Customers came in, you served them, and they left. You and Marie were cleaning up for the night when a familiar face burst through the door.

"Oh no!" the girl said, looking around at the empty space. "Are you closed already?"

"Never for you, Eponine!" A grin spread across your face at the sight of your old friend. You hurried towards her, pulling her into a hug. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in months, and Gavroche never gives me a straight answer when I ask him!"

"My parents were busted in a scam and we had to flee to the countryside. We've only just returned," she replied, squeezing you tightly.

"And what of Gavroche?" you asked. "He has been here the whole time! Has someone been caring for him?"

She nodded. "There was no time to take Gavroche when we ran, but we knew he would be able to stay with one of Les Amis. He's been staying with Courfeyrac, I believe."

"Oh, Eponine," you said, "I wish you would just come and work here. We could give you an honest living and lodgings, and you would not need to live a life on the run."

"Y/N, you know I couldn't. My father is far too vengeful, and I would never want to put you and your family in danger."

You sighed. "I know Eponine. Just remember our doors are always open. Truly, I am just glad you are back."

“You must catch me up,” she said, suddenly excited as she pulled you down to sit at a table.

“Well,” you began with a smile, “I have made good friends with Les Amis de l’ABC.”

Eponine’s shock was evident. “You? Getting all buddy buddy with the politicians?”

“You know I have never been one for politics, but it is far more than that. It is the very roots of our society that must change.”

Eponine laughed. “You sound like Enjolras!”

You shrugged and looked down sheepishly, a small smile on your face, and Eponine gasped. “What?” she asked.

“Two days ago he told me that he loved me.”

Eponine stared, her mouth agape. She leaned back in her seat, shaking her head silently. “You and Enjolras, of all people. Who would have thought?”

—--

Your time with Enjolras was a blur, filled with joy and passion - for one another and for the revolution.

You went to meetings and rallies, him hardly letting you out of his sight in the crowds. But most importantly, you had continued your nighttime walks, that brief moment of bliss that the two of you could share together, away from the rest of the world.

And you were ever so thankful for those moments, because you had something big planned.

Tonight he stopped in front of the Café Musain, took you in his arms, and kissed you, just as he always did. Spring was in full force, and the warm air danced around you. But instead of going inside, as per usual, you grabbed his hands and pulled him around the back of the building.

“Y/N, what are you-”

“Shh,” you hushed him. “Follow me.” You began to scale the side of the building, the hand and foot holds familiar to you. You hoisted yourself onto the roof, looking down at your lover following, although somewhat slower than you had been. When he was within reach, you grabbed his hand and pulled him up to you, a little too forcefully, causing him to stumble over the ledge and into your arms.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you said quietly, still holding him close. He smiled, something that was becoming rarer and rarer these days, and began to lean in for yet another kiss- not that you ever tired of them- when something gave him pause. He stepped back from you, although he did not drop your hand, and surveyed the roof, eyes wide in astonishment.

“Y/N, what is this?” he asked, gesturing to the scenic roof that Eponine and Marie had helped you prepare earlier that day. A dozen or so candles flickered in the night, illuminating a simple blanket adorned with flowering embroidery. The flowers on the blanket matched the small basket that eponine had brought, filled with a flower arrangement. You pulled him down to sit on the blanket with you and pulled out another basket, this one filled with the food that you had made that morning. Pulling out the contents, you spread them around the two of you. “It’s a picnic,” you told him. “I made it for us. I thought it might be romantic.”

Enjolras smiled again, and it warmed your heart. “It’s amazing Y/N,” he said.

You pushed some food towards him. “Eat,” you said, “I’ll be right back.”

As he ate, you opened the door on the corner of the roof and dropped the ladder. You climbed inside the café and dashed to your room, grabbing a box and quickly running back to the roof. You took your place back on the blanket and handed him the box, slightly fidgety with impatience. “This is for you.”

“Chérie, you know I do not expect gifts. You did not have to-”

You waved your hand, dismissing his protests. “Just open it.”

After one last pointed look towards you, he complied, and opened the box, pulling out the contents with a shocked look on his face. He slowly felt the fabric as he looked up at you. “Y/N, this is beautiful.” You swelled with pride as your hard work was appreciated, watching him admire the red jacket you had made him.

“I worked some shifts at the sewing shop to afford the nicer fabric,” you told him. “And then I spent my evenings working on it. The buttons,” you scooted closer to him to point them out, “are the best part.” You ran your finger over one, and in the candlelight you could see the inscription on the metal. ABC.

“Y/N,” he said softly, wonder in his eyes, “this is amazing.”

“You did say red was your favorite, right?” you asked.

“I did,” he said, shrugging on the jacket. “It’s perfect Y/N.”

“I do not have much to give,” you told him, “but I wanted you to have something to remind you of me.”

“I do not need to be reminded, Y/N, for you are always in my thoughts. But this jacket is now my most prized possession.”

You smiled. “Good. I am glad you like it.”

—--

Time went on, and as it did, political tensions rose. And as political tensions rose, so did Enjolras’ stress. He was more distant, and the more you tried to reach him, the more he withdrew. He was becoming short tempered and irritable, and you did most of the talking on your walks.

Why could you not comfort him like you used to? Was your presence no longer enough?

You waited for him tonight, as you always did after meetings, and when he exited the café, he did not offer you his arm, simply rushed past you.

“Apologies, Y/N,” he called over his shoulder, not breaking stride, “but I have far too much to do. I will try to make time to see you soon, but it may need to wait until the meeting next week.”

Before you could even reply, he was out of earshot, and you were left alone on the stairs of the Café Musain.

—--

The next day, you rose bright and early, a mission on your mind.

Quickly dressing and grabbing a bite to eat, you made your way downstairs, passing by a barely awake Marie

"Where are you off to?" she slurred, still mostly asleep.

You sighed. "To find Enjolras. I should have said something to him sooner, because he's been so stressed lately, but I didn't want to bring it up. But then he skipped our walk last night…"

Marie raised her eyebrows, the fogginess of sleep seemingly disappearing instantaneously. "He skipped your walk? He's never missed one, has he?"

You shook your head. "I'm worried about him, Marie. Only a few weeks ago we were as thick as thieves, but since we've received the news of Lamarque's sickness he's like a completely different man."

She placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You'll find him, Y/N, and you'll help him through this, I know it."

You nodded your thanks and made your way out to the street only to be startled by Gavroche, dashing across the street with some of his friends.

Perfect.

"Gavroche!" You called after him. "Gavroche, I need your help!"

The young boy spun on his heel and sprinted towards you as his friends continued onward. “Whad'ya need, Y/N?”

You crouched down to his level to speak to him. “I need to go to Enjolras’ apartment. Do you know where it is?”

He nodded, but then his brow furrowed. “Haven’t you been seeing him? Why don’t you know where he lives?”

You sighed. “I’ve never had cause to visit him alone in his apartment, but I’m afraid that he sorely needs my company, even if he refuses it. Can you show me the way?”

“Absolutely!” he said, and he stuck out his hand as you stood up. You gave him a stern look, but dropped a few francs in his hand. Lord knows the boy needed it more than you did.

You followed him down the city street, passing through familiar shops and homes, before he finally stopped in front of a small building wedged between two much larger ones. “This is it!” he told you. “I deliver his letters here all the time.”

You ruffled his hair. “Thank you, Gavroche. Do you know if Eponine will be at the meeting next week.”

“That depends,” he said with a laugh. “Will Marius be there?” Before you could respond, he ran back in the direction you came, no doubt meaning to catch up with his friends.

You felt a twinge of pity for Eponine. Her unrequited love towards Marius had been tearing her to pieces, and you could hardly bear to watch her fall to shambles like this.

Take care of Enjolras first, you told yourself, then you can worry about Eponine.

Steeling yourself, you approached the door and gave it a sharp knock. You waited, but no response. Another sharp knock.

“Go away!” called a voice faintly.

No way in hell you were going to do that. Jiggling the handle slightly, you were pleased to find that it was unlocked. The door opened with a quiet creaking and you slipped inside.

You rounded the corner of the main entryway and what you saw made your heart sink. Enjolras was slumped over his desk, his hair a mess, his clothes crumpled, and the entire room in disarray. You stepped forward, and your shoe clinked against a glass left on the ground.

“Get out,” he muttered, sounding groggy.

You pressed forward, approaching him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Enjolras, it’s just me.”

He turned toward you, giving you an appraising look, but he quickly looked back down at his work. “I said get out.”

You raised an eyebrow. His words were slurred, and you could smell the sharp stench of alcohol on his breath. “Enjolras, have you been drinking?” You had barely known him to have a single drink, much less get drunk.

“It does not matter. Now, if you would leave me be, I have matters to attend to. Letters to write, rallies to plan.” He batted your hand away.

Not satisfied with his answer, you snatched the letter he was currently working on out from under him. “Dear Commander,” you began, reading his work aloud.

“Hear the the pleas the cries of the people who we need we need assistance. I beg your well wished and timely response.”

You tossed the letter back on the desk. “Enjolras, this is incomprehensible! You need to take a break. You need rest.”

He leaned back in his chair, placing one hand over his eyes. As the sunlight from the window illuminated the panes of his face, you noticed the thin layer of stubble that covered his usually clean-shaven visage. “There is no time for rest,” he told you. “Every day, Lamarque is nearer to drawing his final breath, and we are running out of time.”

You took his chin in your hand, guiding him to look up at you. “All your efforts will be for naught if you kill yourself in the process. Rest, Enjolras, please. You need sleep just as the rest of us do.”

“Fine,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Fine. I will take a break.”

You kissed his forehead. “Good. Come on now.”

Seeing as there was no bedroom on the first floor, you guided him up to the second floor, and like you had all those weeks ago when he had turned up half frozen on your doorstep, you slowly undressed him, allowing him to feel your hands on his skin at every opportunity as you rid him of his dirty clothes and helped him into a pair of clean nightclothes. He was silent, and kept his eyes closed, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly melt away as you tended to him.

He laid in bed, and you sat on the edge beside him, using a damp washcloth to wipe the sheen of sweat from his face.

“Thank you, my love,” he said quietly as you finished up.

You brushed the side of his face gently with your hand. "I only wish that you would speak to me instead of working yourself to the bone."

"I'm sorry," he said, placing a gentle kiss on the palm of your hand. "You deserve much better than a man like me."

This gave you pause. "What is it then, that you think I deserve?"

"A lover whose focus is on you, not France. You deserve to be happy."

"What did you tell me, when I said nearly the same thing? You are not fighting for France alone, my love, I am fighting with you. Together, always. I am the happiest I have ever been."

You leaned in close, a teasing smile on your face. "Except, of course, when you choose to ignore me instead of telling me what's wrong." You planted a kiss on his lips, feeling his smile against your mouth.

"You're right," he whispered. "You're always right."

And with that, he wrapped one arm around your waist and pulled you down on the sheets next to him. "Please stay," he whispered.

"I wouldn't dream of leaving," you replied.

—--

Together you worked. Together you built a revolution, rushing to tie up as many loose ends as possible before the inevitable: Lamarque's death. Meetings were more frantic, rallies more crowded and more prone to intervention by law enforcement. But you stayed by his side and he stayed by yours.

You rushed through the square, glancing up at a nearby clocktower. Enjolras would be expecting you by now, but no matter, you would watch the rally from the crowds like everyone else did, rather than by his side as usual. You pushed to the front, muttering apologies to deaf ears, as no conversation was comprehensible in the massive crowd.

"Lamarque is the only one who stands for the common folk, the only one in our government who fights the wealthy elite in our name! But he is ill, and fading fast!" you heard Marius' voice ring above the crowd.

You pushed further forward and then there, up on the stage, you saw Enjolras. He looked almost angelic, the sun streaming through his hair, passion written on his features.

"How long do we suffer for their benefit before we take what's ours and cut the fat ones down to size?" your lover cried. "Join us in our rebellion! Join us at the barricades!"

Just then, the police burst in from the opposite side of the square, sending the crowd into a frenzy as they rushed to clear the area. The entire time, the students were shouting to the people to not give in, to meet again the following week in the same place for another rally.

You moved against the crowd struggling to stay upright. People were moving in every direction. Which direction was Lamarque’s home? Which was the police? The world was spinning and you had lost all sense of direction, until by some blessed luck, you ran into Marius. “Marius!” you cried, grabbing his arm. “Where is Enjolras?”

“He’s near, he’ll meet us back at the Musain.”

You followed him through the crowd, and soon the people thinned out, and you saw a flash of red ahead.

“Enjolras!” you cried, rushing forward to reach him. He turned quickly at the sound of your voice, and swept you into his arms as you came towards him, holding you tightly against his chest.

“Y/N,” he said into your hair, “I thought you had not made it to the rally today.”

“I was just late,” you replied, your voice shaking. “After the panic, I could not find you. I feared something had happened to you.”

He rubbed small circles onto your back. “It would take far more than a mob to get rid of me. From here on out, we will travel to rallies together. With tensions rising, it is far too dangerous to go on your own.”

You nodded against his chest, still gripping him tight.

“Come now,” he said, releasing you from his embrace, but grabbing on to your hand instead. “Let us go prepare for tonight’s meeting. We will have much to cover.”

—--

The students were gathered together now, and energy was crackling throughout the room. Throughout France, the people were beginning to rise in protest. Notre Dame, rue-du-Bac, everywhere, they were eager to stand and fight.

“The time to rebel is fast approaching, '' began Enjolras. “The people are stirring, rising up with us for the common good of France. I need you all to stay sharp.” He shot a pointed look at Grantaire, who was chugging from a bottle of wine. “The National Guard outmatches us by far. We need a sign that will unite the people, that will call them to arms.”

“Marius, wake up!” Joly shouted across the room. Marius looked dazed, completely indifferent to the meeting happening around him. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost! What’s gotten into you today?”

“Some wine and say what’s going on?” Grantaire offered.

“A ghost,” Marius mused. “Yes, she was like a ghost. There one moment, gone the next.”

Grantaire laughed, the sound almost barking. “Marius has found himself a girl at long last! I am aghast! Never have I seen him in such a state. Why, it’s better than the opera!”

Your stomach dropped as you thought of Eponine. Did she know of Marius' mystery woman? By some stroke of luck, was it Eponine?

“Marius, now is not the time.” Enjolras said. “Is this what we must fight for now? The right to sit around and talk of women? The right to a night at the opera? This is real life men, not a game for a few young, rich, fools to play. We are coming out of a dark age, my brothers, but there is a red dawn at the end of this black night.”

“You should know how it feels, Enjolras,” Marius protested. “When you see Y/N, are you not struck to the bone in breathless delight? Does she not fill your vision with a burst of light each time you think of her?”

“Yeah, Enjolras,” you said playfully, nudging him slightly. “Do I not do that for you?”

He shot you a sharp look that said “Now is not the time to make light of the situation.”

“What I feel for Y/N is not relevant at the moment, and she knows that as well as I do. If your woman was here, helping with the rebellion, we would not be having this discussion. We all have a higher call now, a larger goal, one far more important than finding solace for our lonely souls. Feel how you must Marius, but you are no longer a child, and we need to be present at these meetings. Our little lives are nothing in comparison to the whole of France.”

“Hear, hear!” you cried, raising your glass at Enjolras’ words.

“Hear, hear!” the men echoed.

“Listen, everybody!” The group turned sharply toward the doorway, where Gavroche stood waiting. “General Lamarque is dead!”

You drew in a sharp breath. You knew it was coming, had known for a while now, but it was still jarring to hear the words aloud.

“Lamarque,” said Enjolras. “The people’s man, fallen at last. His death is the sign we have been awaiting.” He grew more confident as the plan solidified in his mind. “His funeral day will be soon, and there we will gather to honor his name. There will be a crowd there, a massive one, of the people who knew Lamarque to be the last truly good man in our government, and from their candles of grief we will kindle the flames of rebellion. The tomb of Lamarque shall lay the foundations for our barricade, for the freedom of all of France!”

He was met with cheers and jubilant shouting. You silently took his hand in yours, and he looked to you with more hope in his eyes than you had seen in months. “Tomorrow!” he yelled to his men. “Tomorrow we meet again and prepare here. Bring what ammunition and supplies you can find, we will need all you can get!”

The men trickled out, and as the uproar died down, Enjolras muttered to you, “You remember our night on the roof?”

You nodded.

“Could you take me there now?”

—--

You did as he asked, leading him up to the trapdoor in the ceiling that led to the roof, and soon the two of you were alone in the cool night air. As soon as the door was shut, Enjolras pulled you into a kiss, kissing you far more passionately than he had in a while. “We’re close,” he finally said. Another short kiss. “So close.”

You held him tight. “I’m proud of you, Enjolras. You’re changing the world."

"I could not have made it this far without you, ma chérie."

"Then into the new world we ride," you told him. "Together."

You couldn't place the look on his face. Hesitant, maybe?

"I have two things I must ask of you , my love."

"Anything," you replied.

He released you from his embrace and backed away a bit. He reached for something small in his pocket and then took a deep breath before kneeling.

"Y/N, since the day I met you, my world has been brighter, more hopeful. You occupy much of my thoughts, and to be apart from you is the worst fate I could imagine." His eyes, so often your only windows into what he was feeling, were shining with emotion. "You have already done so much for me, but would you do me the greatest honor of all and become my wife?"

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to fall. All you could do at first was nod, for fear of bursting into sobs, but eventually you were able to croak a small, "Yes."

In an instant, Enjolras was on his feet, kissing your face over and over muttering "Thank you," and "I love you," over and over. He slipped a ring onto your finger, and you held your hand up to examine it. It was a simple band, nothing ornate, but it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

"I will get you a nicer one someday soon," he told you. "I had not planned on doing this tonight, but after the rally this morning, when you clung to me in the streets, I knew that I couldn't wait another day to ask you."

"I don't want a more expensive one," you told him. "It would never mean as much as this does."

He held you close and rested his head against yours. His jaw was tense, almost as if he was in pain.

"Enjolras?" You asked, raising a hand to his face. "Are you alright?"

He inhaled sharply at your touch. "I'm afraid there is one more thing I must ask of you."

"What is it?" you asked, your eyes searching his.

"I need you to take your father and sister and leave the city."

Your blood ran cold. "What?"

"It's far too dangerous here. I cannot- I will not- be the reason you get hurt."

You stepped away from him, disbelief written over your features. "What happened to together Enjolras?" You held up your left hand, now adorned with a ring. "I made a promise to bind myself to you only moments ago, and now you ask me to break that promise?"

"Y/N-"

"No! I am sick of this, Enjolras. When I agreed to see you, you told me that this revolution was something we would fight together, and now you try and send me away!"

"Y/N, we are fighting together, but I need you to stay away from the actual battle. I could never live with myself if you were hurt."

"What about me? How do you expect me to sit by while you risk yourself? I will arrange for Papa and Marie to leave, but I will not abandon our cause in its hour of need. I will not abandon you."

He held your gaze, the stubborn look in his eye no doubt matching your own.

"Fine," he finally said gruffly. "But if you are going to stay, you have to follow orders, the same as the rest of my men. Regardless of what you think, I need to keep you safe."

"Of course," you nodded. "So long as you don't order me to leave."

"I won't."

You embraced him once more. "I love you, Enjolras."

"I love you too, ma chérie."

—--

Marie and your father were gone. There was some protest about you staying behind, but they saw the way you clung to Enjolras' hand, and had been watching the way you had thrown yourself into revolution work the past few months. They packed up what things they needed and left for an inn on the outskirts of Paris.

The next day was a blur. Preparing was busy work. You organized weaponry and ammunition, you helped deliver messages to other rebel groups across the city, and you kept Enjolras from losing his head.

One day more, and then you would be in the fight of your lives.

The students prepared late into the night, and eventually, there was simply no more that could be done. Most stayed the night, setting up a makeshift camp on the second floor of the Musain. You and Enjolras once again found yourselves on the roof, looking over the city at night, pondering the challenge that tomorrow would bring.

“Are you ready?” you asked him.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Silence once more. The comfortable silence took you back to all those months ago. The time that you had first met, and the walks that ensued. The time that you had spent together, simply enjoying one another’s presence.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Unless I’m remembering incorrectly, we’ve already had this conversation. Is the stress getting to you so much that you forget?”

“No,” he said. “Will you marry me tonight? Right now?”

You were taken aback. “Now? That’s a bit soon.”

“We may not have another chance,” he said grimly, and for a moment, the gravity of tomorrow weighed on your mind once more, but you quickly pushed it back. You were as prepared as you could be. You had to keep reminding yourself of that.

“Alright,” you said slowly. “Let’s get married then.”

—--

Soon, Les Amis de l’ABC were gathered in the upper room of the Musain, like so many times before. Unlike usual, however, you were there to celebrate a union, rather than plot the downfall of the monarchy.

Combeferre was chosen to officiate, as he was widely regarded as the second in command of Les Amis. You and Enjolras stood facing each other, hands clasped together.

“We are gathered here on this night to celebrate the union between two of our most core members,” Combeferre began. “Enjolras, you have bravely led us through all our trials, and continue to do so even now. Y/N, you have only been with us a short time, but in that period you have shown tenacity and passion in all that you do. I understand you each have something to say?”

You smiled up at your fiancé. His features were softer than they had been in a while, and his smile was more relaxed. He was less tense, like his stress had all but vanished, if only for a little while. “Enjolras,” you said, completely lost in his eyes, “I have no idea where I would be if not for you. Not only did you show me love, but you opened my eyes to a world beyond my own, and to the possibility of a better future. If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing, because as long as I have you, I know that I will be alright. However tomorrow ends, I am grateful that we will be fighting for France hand in hand, as husband and wife.”

Enjolras took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was no doubt one of the biggest challenges he would have to face in the coming days: being emotionally vulnerable in front of his friends. “Y/N, I still cannot place what it was, but the first night you came into our meetings, you left your mark upon my very soul. I have thought of you every day since then, and I could not ask for a better woman to call my wife. You care for me when I don’t deserve it, and remind me again and again that I am stronger than the things holding me back. I love you more than I could ever articulate, and I will never be able to thank you enough for agreeing to marry me."

Combeferre nodded curtly. "Now-"

"Wait!" you said. "Gavroche, it's time."

The young boy dashed up to the front of the room and handed you something.

"Thank you, Gavroche," you said.

"Something for you, something for me?" he asked hopefully, earning a chuckle from yourself and many of the students gathered there.

"After we finish up here," you told him, ruffling his hair. He grinned up at you and ran back to his seat. Turning back to Enjolras, you noticed his look of confusion.

"I really wanted to exchange rings," you began, "so I raided my father's small jewelry collection. He's been saving it in case we ever fell on hard times, but I don’t think he would mind." You opened your hand to reveal your engagement ring and a similar band that you had found. "I think it belonged to my grandfather," you told him as you handed him your ring.

You took his left hand and gingerly slipped the ring onto his finger, and he mimicked your actions with your ring.

"Now," Combeferre started over when you had finished. "Enjolras, do you vow to take Y/N as your wife and cherish her through all times, bad and good, until the end of your days?"

"I do," he said, practicing glowing.

"Y/N, do you vow to take Enjolras as your husband and cherish him through all times, bad and good, until the end of your days?'

You nodded, trying to keep your voice from shaking. "I do."

Combeferre smiled. "Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. Enjolras, you may kiss the bride."

Enjolras’ lips were on yours in an instant, like he had been waiting for this moment the entire time. He dipped you down low, earning quite a few wolf whistles and cheers from the students.

He helped you back upright and there was a smattering of applause from your companions, as well as some very loud sobs from Grantaire.

"Would you be quiet?" Marius asked from next to him, nudging him slightly before snatching the nearly empty bottle of alcohol from his hand.

"I'm sorry" Grantaire half blubbered, half slurred. "Weddings make me emotional."

"So does liquor," Marius muttered.

"You're drunk, Grantaire," your husband said, arm around your waist. "Get to bed. In fact, all of you should get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

The members of Les Amis de l'ABC filed out of the room, off to their respective sleeping spots, when you noticed a slip of a boy with his hat pulled down over his brow trying to leave out the back.

"One moment," you muttered to Enjolras, and you followed the figure out the door. "Eponine," you called after "him." "I know it's you."

She paused, then turned back towards you. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I wanted to be there, but I didn't want to face Marius."

You hugged her. "That's all right 'Ponine. I'm just glad you came. And I'm sorry to hear about Marius. What girl has got him acting like this anyhow?"

She shrugged. "Some rich girl named Cosette. I grew up with her, actually."

"You're far too good for him anyways," you told her. "Any man worth his salt would be lucky to have you."

She tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you, Y/N. I'll be alright on my own tonight. Go back to your husband."

You hesitated, not wanting to leave her when she so clearly needed a friend.

"Go," she said.

"Well if you're that eager to be rid of me…"

"Congratulations, Y/N," she said, and she was soon out of sight.

—--

You couldn't help but worry for her, but your mood brightened when you found Enjolras waiting for you.

"Come on," you told him. "Let's spend our first night as husband and wife together."

—--

The second the door to your room was shut, his mouth was on yours. You laughed a bit at his eagerness before surrendering yourself to the kiss.

He guided you backwards until the back of your legs hit your bed frame. "Do you trust me?" he asked breathlessly. You nodded.

He lifted you into his arms and laid you down on the bed. He leaned over you, his hair falling around his face like a curtain. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Enjolras."

That night was bliss like you had never felt it. Enjolras was gentle and rough and kind and passionate all at the same time. It seemed like you were there for an eternity. When you held you in his arms at the end of the night, you wished it truly had gone on forever.

“Please stay, Enjolras.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

—--

The next morning, you woke to him standing at the foot of your bed, buttoning his red coat. A small grin cracked on his face when he saw you stir. “Good morning, chérie.”

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, pushing yourself up to a sitting position. “You should have woken me when you got up.”

He bent over and placed a kiss on your brow. “You looked so peaceful, that I just couldn’t disturb you. Do you own a shirt and trousers?”

You nodded. “Somewhere around here.”

“Wear them today then. You may get a few stares at the funeral procession, but I would rather you be wearing something more practical for what follows.”

Groaning at your stiff muscles, you pushed yourself out of bed and began to rifle through the small trunk that held your clothes. You tossed what you needed onto your bed, and Enjolras picked them up.

"Allow me?"

You nodded, and your new husband helped you into the outfit, which was just baggy enough to hide any curves and make you look like a young boy.

"You've never looked so lovely," he said jokingly.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your two cockades from the nightstand and handed one to him. He pinned it on your lapel, and you did the same for him.

"I love you, my beautiful wife.”

You grinned. “I love you too, my beautiful husband.”

—--

You stood at the front of the crowd, watching Lamarque’s funeral procession slowly parade down the street. You held Enjolras’ hand tightly in one hand, and Eponine’s in the other, although a bit more discreetly. You didn’t think she wanted anyone to know that she was there. Quietly, Les Amis started singing. It was a song you had heard many times before, but still gave you chills. You added your voice to the choir.

Do you hear the people sing?

Singing the song of angry men

It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again

The surrounding crowd looked around in confusion, but slowly, they started joining in.

When the beating of your heart

Echoes the beating of the drum

There is a life about to start

When tomorrow comes

The voices crescendoed, and soon the vast majority of the people were singing.

Will you join in our crusade

Who will be strong and stand with me?

Beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see?

Enjolras gave your hand one last brief squeeze before jumping out into the middle of the procession, waving a bright red flag for all of Paris to see.

Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be free!

Following his lead, Les Amis ran for it, crowding the funeral procession, and a few bolder onlookers in the crowd did the same.

Do you hear the people sing?

Singing the song of angry men

Somewhere in the confusion, Eponine’s hand slipped from yours.

It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again

You and Les Amis crowded the hearse, climbing up onto its sides as it continued down the street.

When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drum

There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes

Enjolras joined Marius, standing on the top of the hearse. His voice rang out over the crowd.

Will you give all you can give so that our banner may advance?

He leaned over the side, offering a hand to you.

Some will fall and some will live

You took it, and he hoisted you up next to him.

Will you stand up and take your chance?

One arm was around your waist, steadying you and the other was grabbing the hilt of his red flag. You sang at the top of your lungs, and yet you could not hear your own voice over the crowd.

The blood of the martyrs will water the meadows of France!

Do you hear the people sing?

Singing the song of angry men

It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again

The crowd was following the procession now, the swell of people moving down the streets of Paris.

When the beating of your heart

Echoes the beating of the drum

There is a life about to start

When tomorrow comes

The procession came to a halt. Standing before you was the National Guard.

They threatened you, but you didn't think they would do it, not really. Until the shot rang off, and almost as if it was in slow motion, a woman in the crowd fell to the ground. The echoes of the shot rang in your ears as you looked on, stunned.

You looked toward Enjolras, whose features were grim, but determined. “To the barricade!” he cried.

The revolutionaries ran, moving like their life depended on it, which it did. You came to the little square where the Café Musain was and called to the people in the buildings to throw down whatever they could, which they did immediately, all too willing to aid in the downfall of the monarchy. You ran into the Musain, grabbing what chairs and tables you could to toss out onto the street.

You made swift work of the project, and foundations of the barricade were built, blocking you from the National Guard waiting on the other side.

“I need a volunteer!” your husband cried through the frenzy. “Someone who can find out their plan and when they will attack.”

A man that you did not recognize approached. “I will go,” he declared. “I was once a part of the guard, and I know their ways well. I will find out the truth.”

Enjolras nodded. “Thank you for stepping up, citizen.”

In the blink of an eye, the man was gone.

Ejolras dashed to the top of the barricade and planted his red flag there, a symbol of the revolution.

Soon night fell, and the buzzing of the day’s adrenaline was still taking hold. Everyone rushed about doing whatever they could.

“He’s back!” a voice cried, drawing your attention to the barricade.

“Listen friends, I have the information you seek!” the strange man called from outside the barricade. “I have counted their men and overheard their plans. They are strong, and it will be a dangerous fight.”

Enjolras gestured for him to come around the barricade. “Have faith. If you know their plans, we will find a way to overpower him. There is great strength in the people here.”

“You are safe for tonight,” said the man. “They wish to starve you out and weaken your forces before they attack in the morning.”

“Liar!” echoed a young voice. “Good evening, dear Inspector Javert!” It was Gavroche. “This man is no ally, he’s the law!”

Courfeyrac and Grantaire quickly grabbed him. “Throw him in the tavern,” Enjolras directed coldly. “We will let the people decide his fate.”

Javert’s face twisted in anger and he spat at Enjolras’ feet. “Kill me if you wish. You schoolboys know nothing of the world and the laws that bind it. I renounce your people’s court.”

They tried to pull him into the tavern, but he flung the two men off of him.

Enjolras rushed forward as the men struggled to restrain him. Javert rushed to the corner grabbing something-

“Enjolras, watch out!” you cried, as Javert swung a metal bar straight at his head. It missed narrowly. Enjolras wrestled the bar away from him, and swung it down hard, knocking the Inspector out cold.

Suddenly, you noticed the hairs on the back of your neck rising. You weren’t the only one who noticed something off, as the rest of the people gathered began looking around. Realization dawned in Enjolras’ eyes, and the men rushed out of the tavern, grabbing guns as they did.

“They’re coming!” someone yelled

You were in charge of reloading Enjolras’ musket, so you settled in behind him, on the ground below the barricade, as he took aim.

“Who’s there?” shouted the leader of the National Guard.

You clenched your jaw. The time was here.

“French Revolution!” your husband cried.

“Fire!” was the only response he got, soon followed by a volley of gunfire.

Shouting. There was so much shouting. The shouts soon grew louder, and you looked on in horror as you realized why.

They were climbing over the barricade.

You saw Marius grab a barrel of gunpowder and a torch before scurrying up the barricade.

What was he planning?

He reached the top nearly nose to nose with enemy soldiers. One raised his musket.

Oh God, you thought, Oh God, he doesn’t see.

Before you could cry out, before you could move, Eponine lept, seemingly from nowhere, in front of the musket, right as the shot rang out. Her body seemed to fall in slow motion, and you stood paralyzed. You hardly processed Marius’ threats to blow the barricade and the retreat of the National Guard as you ran to Eponine’s side. You took her hand in yours.

“Eponine!” you cried. “Eponine, please be all right.”

“Y/N?” Her voice was shaky.

“Yes, Eponine. Hold on, all right? We’ll get you a doctor.”

“I love you Y/N. You were the best friend I could have asked for.”

“I love you too, Eponine, but don’t talk like that, okay? We’re going to get you fixed up, don’t worry.”

She shook her head, but then you saw her eyes brighten. You turned over her shoulder to see what she was looking at. Marius stood looming over you. You backed away, knowing that she would want him by her side in her final moments.

He knelt down and held her, whispering to her, as her light slowly dimmed. The hot tears in your eyes mixed with the cold rain as your vision blurred.

You saw Gavroche, standing alone, the rain pouring down not masking the silent tears streaming from his eyes as he watched his sister bleed out. You approached him, and gently took his hand into yours. He squeezed so hard that it hurt, but you didn’t say a word.

Eponine went limp and her hand fell from Marius’ face. You stifled back a sob. As he passed you, Enjolras placed a hand on your shoulder, a silent reminder that he was there if you needed him. He and a few of the others gently lifted her body to take it out of the rain.

A while later, you were sitting quietly with Gavroche when Marius approached you. You tried to push down the swell of anger that came when you laid eyes on him. He, who had only noticed Eponine when she killed herself for him,

“Gavroche, can you do something for me?” he asked.

“Anything. Without you, I would have bitten the dust,” the young boy replied.

Marius handed Gavroche a letter and a few francs. “Deliver this for me, would you?”

No sooner had he spoken than Gavroche was off, leaving only you and Marius.

“Was that to Cosette?” Your voice was cold.

He nodded sheepishly, and your face twisted in anger.

“Eponine sacrificed herself for you! Took her own life so that you can live, and all you can think of is your wretched girlfriend? And now you have the gall to ask her brother to deliver your love letter? You didn’t even acknowledge her until she was dying in your arms!”

Enjolras dashed over, alerted by the yelling. “What’s the matter?”

“He doesn’t care,” you sobbed as he pulled you into his arms. “He doesn’t care that Eponine is dead. My best friend is dead.”

“I care,” Marius said quietly, the look on his face grave. “That I can promise you.”

He turned and left, leaving you and Enjolras alone.

You sank to your knees, no longer having the motivation to keep yourself upright, as the sobs racked out of you.

“She didn’t deserve this,” you muttered into his chest as he rubbed small circles on your back. “She didn’t deserve this.”

“No one does,” he said. “That’s why we fight. Why we must keep going, so that Eponine’s death is not in vain.”

You nodded, still sniffling slightly. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, smoothing your hair. “Her death has shaken us all. Why don’t you go try and get some sleep? I’ll join you shortly, for a little while, but I have things that need to be taken care of.”

“I think I’d like to be alone, just for a bit,” you told him, “but I’ll sleep when you sleep.”

He kissed your brow. “That’s fair. Now go, and I’ll be there soon.”

—--

You had done as Enjolras had said, and you were sitting in your room, staring at your candle as it slowly burnt down. The tears had long since dried, and you were sure you must look a mess.

Bang!

Bang!Bang!

You jumped to your feet, startled as a series of gunshots went off. You raced downstairs, grabbed a musket, and prayed to God it was loaded. When you stormed into the square, armed and at the ready, the gunfire had died, and Enjolras was closing the tavern doors.

“Enjolras!” you cried, running to his side. “What happened?”

“Enemy marksmen from the roofs,” he said. “We took care of them. And there is another volunteer from the National Guard, but Gavroche has claimed he is trustworthy. He’s taking care of Javert as we speak.” As if to punctuate his sentence, a loud gunshot rang from behind the tavern. And thus ended Javert.

The men were relaxing, leaning against the barricade after a long and difficult day. Enjolras turned to address them. “Courfeyrac, you take the watch. The enemy may attack before light. Keep the faith, all. The people will rise, we are not alone.”

He took your hand, leading you along with him. He approached Marius, who was lost within his work, reinforcing the barricade. “Maruis,” he said, “rest.” Marius’ jaw tightened when he saw you, but he nodded curtly at Enjolras’ command.

Enjolras led you to an outcropping in front of one of the surrounding buildings, and leaned against the wall. The fatigue was evident on his face, but he drew you in and held you close as Grantaire began to sing an old drinking song.

Drink with me to days gone by

To the life that used to be

At the shrine of friendship, never say die

Let the wine of friendship never run dry

Here’s to you

And here’s to me

You could feel the soft rumble of Enjolras’ voice as he joined in. His soft voice was comforting, and you couldn't help but chuckle when he kissed your head as the rest of the men sang

Here’s to pretty girls who went to our heads

And to witty girls who went to our beds

You stayed like that for a while after the song was through, listening to his heartbeat. Despite his relaxed appearance, you could tell how stressed he truly was. He was scared.

“Go on up to bed now,” he told you. “You need to get some rest.”

“That’s the second time you’ve told me to do that,” you said. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Never,” he said. “I just worry about you. And I have far too much to take care of to rest.”

You nearly laughed at that. If anyone should be worried it should be you. He was working himself to the bone, and at this rate, he wouldn’t even survive until the next attack.

“You need to sleep as much as I do,” you told him. “Come to my room with me, just for a few hours, and then we’ll take care of your stuff together, okay?”

He sighed. “You've swayed me, chérie Let’s go get some rest.”

—--

You woke a few hours later to an empty bed. You sighed loudly, but you shouldn’t have been surprised. At the foot of your bed layed Enjolras’ red coat and a note.

I’ve gone to see how the other barricades are faring. I know you would have wanted to come with me, but I promise I will be back soon. Keep my coat safe, chérie. I love you.

You scoffed, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset at him. He wanted to keep you safe. You just wished he realized that you wanted to keep him safe as well.

You put on his coat, and were pleased to realize that it smelled like him. You met up with the rest of the men outside.

“Looking sharp,” Grantaire said with a wink, earning a gentle playful slap on the arm.

“How are things looking?” you asked Combeferre.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The rain has damaged our supply. We’re working to see what we still have, but it’s not looking good.”

A sudden whistle from the top of the barricade drew your attention, and your heart soared as you saw your husband climb over.

Before he could even crest the barricade, Marius ran over to him, “Enjolras, the rain damaged the gunpowder. We’re low on ammunition.”

“We’re the only barricade left,” Enjolras replied, but his eyes were trained on you as he spoke.

“What?”

“We’re the only ones left.” In a perfect demonstration of his inner character, Enjolras spoke to the crowd as he approached you, wrapping one arm around your waist in a silent greeting. France came first, but he would not forget you because of that. The look he gave you was a silent apology for leaving you alone.

“The people have not stirred,” he announced. “Those who still live in fear have abandoned us, so I will say this. All who wish to leave must do so now.”

The air was thick. Would they stay and risk losing their lives, or leave and risk losing their values?

The silence was broken by one little boy, singing a familiar tune.

Do you hear the people sing?

Singing the song of angry men?

The people around you joined Gavroche, with hushed tones at first, but then soon at full volume.

It is the music of the people who will not be slaves again

When the beating of your heart

Echoes the beating of the drums

There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes

Soon the troops were gathered again, their spirits reinvigorated, but the concern of ammunition was a big one. No one was sure how you were going to keep going on.

“Gavroche!” you heard someone whisper urgently, and looked up to see a few of Les Amis, leaning over the top of the barricade. Your stomach dropped and you climbed over the edge and looked over the side to find Gavroche, holding sacs of gunpowder and taunting enemy forces. A gunshot rang out, narrowly missing the boy.

“Gavroche!” you hissed. “Get back here!”

Your words fell on deaf ears as Gavroche looked up, grinned, and continued onward.

Courfeyrac yelled for him, trying to jump over the barricade, but he was held back. All you could do was watch in horror as one, two, gunshots struck Gavroche down. His lifeless body stared at the sky, his blank eyes devoid of all their usual mischief and playfulness.

Courfeyrac ran out to grab the body, bringing him back and laying him at the base of the barricades. His sobs hit you like a knife. How many more must die?

“Bring him to lay next to Eponine,” you said quietly, and someone, you didn’t see who, obliged.

“You at the barricades!” the leader of the National Guard shouted. “The people of Paris sleep in their beds. No one will come to help in your fight. You are on your own with no chance at all! Why throw your lives away?”

Enjolras took on a new air, ever the leader. “Damn their warnings!” he cried, “And damn their lies. Let us die facing our foes. We can still make them bleed.”

“They will pay for every man!” yelled Courfeyrac, still teary.

“Others will rise when we fall!” your husband shouted, his voice thick with passion. “One day the Earth will be free!”

He grabbed your hand as the men ran to arms, speaking now in a low voice. “You told me not to ask you this, but I must. Please go. This ends in prison or death for all of us if we stay.”

“I’m not leaving you, Enjolras,” you whispered.

He nodded and raised his gun. “To arms, then.”

“Cannons!” came the shout from the other side of the barricade. Your blood curdled, but you held fast. This was judgement day.

“Fire!” cried Enjolras, and a volley of gunshots rained on the National Guard. He tossed his musket down to you and you handed him the new one you were holding, prepped and ready, and began to make quick work of the old one.

Through the screams, the bloodshed, the falling bodies, you did what you were supposed to do. You tuned it out and changed the weaponry. But soon the guard advanced. The bodies were dropping from bayonets instead of muskets, and you were forced to retreat. Those who had previously been sympathetic closed their doors, shutting out the dying students in the streets.

“To the Musain!” you cried, and the straggling survivors followed. There were shouts to barricade the door, but it wouldn’t hold for long. Your group ran to the second floor

Enjolras grabbed your hand. “I know you don’t want this,” he said, speaking hurriedly, “But I don’t care. Go to the storage room on the kitchen and don’t come out, no matter what you hear. I love you.”

“Enjolras, I won’t-”

“Go! I love you!” He was moving away from you, towards the stairs, forcing himself to leave because he knew you wouldn’t leave him.

“I love you too!” you yelled after him, and ignoring the sinking pit in your stomach, did as he asked.

—--

You shut yourself in the tiny room and curled into a ball on the floor. You were surrounded by bottles of your father’s finest liquor and extra cleaning supplies.

You broke the skin on your hand when you bit it to keep from crying at the gunshots outside.

The footsteps and shouts of the National Guard retreated, and there was silence in the Café Musain once more.

You were alone once more.

Your eyes scanned the small room around you, an idea forming. An idea that you knew Enjolras would hate just as much as it would make him proud.

It’s either die here or rot in jail, you thought. There’s no getting out of here without the guards seeing me. May as well make all this effort worth my while.

You grabbed what you needed and threw the supplies in a small satchel. Placing a hand on the doorknob, you steeled yourself, and then stepped outside.

There was a thin haze in the air, most likely smoke from the barricade and musket fire. You slowly crept your way up to the second floor of the building, and stifled a gasp when you saw the bodies of your friends littered on the floor. Grantaire was slumped next to the window, and next to him-

You knew it was true, but you didn’t want to believe it. You slowly leaned over the edge of the windowsill, and felt a pang of horror as you saw Enjolras’ body hanging from it, waving his red banner proudly, even in death. You had no time to process it, before you heard a guardsman cry. “Up there! Someone’s still in the building!”

You sprinted away from the ceiling and up to the top floor. You pulled the trapdoor down and hoisted yourself onto the roof, then quickly scampered down the side of the building, two bottles of brandy clinking in your bag.

You rounded a corner, crouching at the edge of the barricade. You were hidden for now, but you knew that wouldn’t last long. Opening the bottles of alcohol, you stuffed a rag down the neck of each. You kissed the neck of one bottle. “For you, Les Amis de l’ABC.” You kissed the other. “For you, Eponine.” Bringing your hand to your lips, you kissed the band around your finger. “For you, Enjolras.”

With that, you lit each rag with a flint and steel, and raced to the top of the barricade.

“Vive la France!” you cried, so loud that it hurt your throat, and you hurled the two makeshift bombs towards the enemy’s cannons, right into the highest concentration of gunpowder.

If the explosion wasn’t enough to knock you off your feet, the responding volley of gunfire was, and you fell to the ground as the bullets tore through your body.

“Vive la France,” you whispered once more as the darkness enveloped you.

—--

You woke to sharp pain from your core and the sounds of a woman sobbing. You realized suddenly that you were being carried, and as you slowly opened your eyes, you recognized who it was.

“Marie,” you whispered, barely able to get the sound out. Your sister screamed and nearly dropped you.

“Y/N, you were dead!”

“Not yet Marie, but I’m dying. Where did they put Enjolras’ body?”

“You know, then,” she said grimly. “He is in the tavern. I’ll take you.”

“What you did was amazing,” she said as she walked. “Everyone’s talking about it. They’re calling you the Belle of the Barricade.”

You crinkled your nose. “I was never one for semantics.”

Marie laughed, but there was little joy in the sound. “You were very brave, Y/N. Your bravery won’t be forgotten. Why, I’ll tell every patron we have about my daring older sister who took on the National Guard single handedly in a final attack.” She was smiling, but tears were streaming down her face.

She laid you down on the floor next to your husband’s lifeless body. “Marie?” you said softly.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“We were married. The night before the funeral procession, we were married right in the Musain. I want you to know. And Papa.”

She nodded tearfully. “I’ll tell him.”

You raised one hand to Enjolras’ face, so rigid and smooth in death. “I told you, my love,” you whispered to him, “I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

And with that, the strength ebbed from your body, and all went black a final time.

—--

Light, warm and pure surrounded you. Your eyes opened, and as your vision cleared, a face came into focus.

Enjolras, his face far more peaceful than you had ever seen it. The lines of his face had softened, and he looked for once like a school boy, not a hardened general.

“Enjolras?” you asked. Your brow furrowed. “Where are we?”

“Beyond the barricade,” he replied, offering you his hand.

You took it, and he pulled you towards him. The two of you went forward into the light, into the world you longed to see.

-----

Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it, because it was really fun to write.

Also sorry for the fade to black scene, I'm just not a fan of writing smut.

But I appreciate anyone who took the time to read this, and I hope I was able to do Enjolras justice.

#enjolras #enjolras x reader #enjolras x you #enjolras imagine

[bizaar]

enjolras x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ only - piv smut, oral (f receiving) handjob (m receiving) - general talks and mentions of sex/smut, lovemaking, breeding kink if you squint - mentions of concubines and usage of the word "whore" (reader is a sex worker so proceed with caution), general tooth rotting fluffiness, forbidden love is my bread and butter

word count: 8k (I'm so sorry I'm incapable of writing anything short)

a.n.: This is my first smut so go easy on me :D also, apologies if I didn't do Enjolras justice, I watched clips from BBC Les Mis on Youtube for days and got sort of generally stuck on how to write him talking about anything besides the revolution when ALL he talks about is the revolution - PLEASE BEAR IN MIND THAT READER IS A SEX WORKER so don't come for me tumblr prudes I don't want to hear it.

A chorus of high voices calling your name summons you to the top of the stairs, and it’s there you find him, idling in the foyer below — Enjolras.

Just to see him kicks up a storm of giddiness swirling in the pit of your stomach and you have to resist the urge to say something smart about finding himself in a brothel so late in the evening, just to defuse the tension.

He wouldn’t like that.

Be sweet, Mon Cher, he’d implored you recently in the midst of an intimate moment— stroking your face and breathing hard against your mouth, your legs wrapped around his canting hips, holding him to press tight against your core as he slipped in and out of you at an agonizing pace.

That had been six nights ago — Six nights too many, you think as you pinch your thighs together and feel the first stirrings of arousal in your belly.

Now, the other girls stand around him in a throng of giggling fillies, touching and flirting — the teasing only amplifies when they see you standing there, not so subtly gripping the banister.

“Your man is here —” One of them sings, her voice dripping with a condescending edge as she braces her hands on the flare of her hips and leans into him, very pointedly presenting her ample bosom, spilling out from the top of her stays.

To his credit, Enjolras pays her no mind, he is far too busy gazing up at you with all the reverence of a man set to worship.

Still, the gesture brings a hot flash of jealousy to your cheeks and you scowl at her as you begin your quick descent of the rickety steps. They creak under your weight, despite the way your stockinged feet make no noise against the brushed wood — your worn dressing gown trails behind you like the train of a fine dress.

Enjolras watches you approach, a gentle smile spread over his handsome features that you pretend not to see as you hit the last step and reach for his hand.

He gives it to you.

“Haven’t you all got better things to do than stand around gawking?” You hiss at the silly creatures, pulling to lead Enjolras back up the flight.

“Better things, for sure,” someone muses, “But no better men.”

They kick up with a chorus of raucous laughter and you tighten your grip on his thick fingers like you’re half afraid they’re going to steal him from your grasp if you aren’t quick to get him up the stairs.

The girls all call their teasing, singsong goodbyes to Enjolras as you mount the steps and disappear into the belly of the brothel.

You quietly thank God that the Madam is not home. She would not stand for such idle foolishness, nor would she stand to see you whisking Enjolras off to your room. The girls are all enamored with his soft eyes, kind speech, and good looks — the Madam only cares whether or not he can pay for your company on his meager salary. More often than not you do not even bother charging him, as his company is payment enough — much to the Madam’s chagrin.

How she does like to tell you that time given away is time wasted, and the Madam does not stand for that kind of frivolity.

Your room is at the far end of a long hall of open doors. To peek through you might have seen the other courtesans busy with their own individual fancies between suitors — playing at cards, drinking wine, gossiping — that is if they had not all gathered down in the foyer to fawn over the handsome guest in their midst.

It is strangely quiet for this time of night, though you expect that is likely to change soon enough.

The hard thumps of Enjolras’s footsteps as he follows wordlessly behind you beat in tandem with your heart, and you silently wish to be anywhere but here, where this didn’t have to feel so mercantile, where intimacy could live and breathe without the ever-present guillotine of payment hanging over your heads. You wish it were enough to be lovers and not just a favored whore.

You know he would reject that thinking, despite how true it is.

How many times has he told you he loves you? How many times have you rejected that affection on principle?

You cannot afford to love him while you are so deeply indebted to the Madam… and yet…

Through the door you go, startling the two young girls who have taken refuge in your room. They sit crowded at the vanity, their faces done up in powder and rouge, one wrapped in your fine silk shawl as if they’d been playing at dress up.

Their wide eyes flit back and forth between you and the man you have in tow with a patent unease, like they have been caught red-handed at something.

“Marie, Clotilde, get out.” You say sharply, addressing the girls by name.

They remain staring at you, at Enjolras. Everyone knows about him, the revolutionary — your little pet — you imagine they have heard as much talk of him as anyone else in this house.

They are younger than the others and thankfully have not been set to working just yet. As such they are comparatively harmless, but you are no less inclined to let them share in what little time you have with Enjolras.

He is yours and you intend to have him before the Madam returns.

You clap your hands sharply, snapping the girls to attention and pointing to the door.

“Alons-y! Go!”

They scramble to collect their things and get to their feet before scurrying past you, heads dipped sheepishly as they go through the door.

“Is that him?” You hear Clotilde whisper before shutting the door.

Somewhere behind you, Enjolras sighs.

“They are much too young for this life.” He says, his voice a low timbre that sends shivers through your body.

“No younger than I was when it found me.” You mumble bitterly. “Paris is a cruel city for girls with no means…”

The stillness that falls over the room is but a calm before the storm — you survey the mess, discarded stays, skirts, boots, and petticoats, your delicate shawl lies pooled at the foot of the bed where it was hastily discarded.

You heave a sigh and cross the room to retrieve your most precious trinket from the floor.

“How was your meeting?” You ask idly, desperate to cut the tension over the bleakness of life in the underbelly of Paris.

Enjolras likes conversation, particularly with you — he likes to pretend this is anything but the transactional exchange it really is, so as not to cheapen his feelings for you — your feelings for him.

“It went well, I think.” He says, “There were more people there tonight than I’ve seen before—"

You hum thoughtfully as you uncork a bottle of wine and pour yourself a glass.

You watch, half mesmerized by the swirling dark liquid, and feel the heat of his gaze on your back as he continues.

“People are coming from all over Paris. It feels as though they’re finally ready to stand up for something.”

“For the revolution you mean?” You ask, sipping the wine.

Your tone is decidedly more condescending than you’d intended and Enjolras doesn’t answer. You half expect him to admonish you for mocking his cause, but he remains quiet.

Behind you, you hear the telltale click of the door lock sliding into place and feel butterflies stir in the pit of your stomach — the Madam does not abide a locked door in her house, but you cannot presently bring yourself to care.

His silence would be enough to unnerve you were you not so entirely certain of his gentle nature, his kindness, his affection for you.

When you turn to look at him, you find that he has crossed the room to stand behind you, his body blocking your view. His hands come up to trail feather-light touches up the length of your arms. You feel his breath fanning the back of your neck.

“I missed you tonight.” He murmurs.

You breathe an easy laughter through your nose and shiver under his touch. He takes the glass from your hand and drains it in one gulp — it clinks softly as he sets it down on the dressing table before you.

His arms come up to snake around you and pull you close, the rumble of his contented sigh vibrating through your body.

“How can you miss me when you have your good lady Madam Révolution to keep you warm?” You tease, leaning back into his touch.

“I always miss you when you’re not there.” He says ever so softly, dipping to press a gentle kiss to the junction between your neck and shoulder. “You could come with me, you know. To the meetings?”

“I’ve been to your meetings.” You remind him, turning your head to rest against his shoulder, tipping back into the crook of his neck as his free hand moves to splay out across your belly.

Thick fingers press you back to lay flush against his body and you smirk as you feel the faintest impression of his cock stirring there.

You rock your hips back tentatively against him.

“They weren’t for me.”

“The meetings…” he insists, brushing his plush lips across the highest point of your cheekbone, your temple, your hairline, “…Are for anyone who yearns for liberation.”

You mean to roll your eyes, but arousal has beat you to the motion as the hand on your stomach slips down to cup you between your legs. Thick, calloused fingers draw a slow line over the clothed seam of your pussy and your eyes roll back in their sockets at the sensation it elicits, lips parting ever so slightly on a breathy moan.

You certainly do yearn, though not presently for liberation.

You had meant what you said, though — you aren't expressly unwelcome at the meetings, but nothing deters the good citizens of Paris from turning their noses up at the presence of a common whore in their midst.

You’d met Enjolras at one of his citizen’s meetings, and spent the duration of it being sneered at by the upstanding proletariat in attendance. You hardly cared. You’d been there to work, not to be inspired, but then you’d caught Enjolras’s gaze and found yourself struck, and like a bolt of lightning, you forgot all other men but the brooding revolutionary with the dark eyes.

He was similarly affected by you.

You don’t believe in such fanciful things as love at first sight, and yet you’d spent the evening circling one another, stealing glances and shy smiles before you’d shocked yourself by sitting and listening to him give speeches about liberty and equality among the people.

You would not consider yourself a patriot by any stretch of the word, and as such you didn’t retain a thing Enjolras said that night, only the way he’d said it, and how he'd spent half as much time undressing you with his eyes as he did rabble-rousing.

You thought he was marvelous, and that was dangerous for someone like you.

In some small hope of retaining what shred of good sense you had left, you quietly took your leave before the cheering and songs were finished, as if somehow you knew you were going to fall in love with him if you gave him the chance.

He, in turn, had stolen away from the budding revolution to follow you nearly halfway across Paris, just to ask your name.

It was a gesture romantic enough to make your knees tremble.

For all his serious talk of liberation and freedoms, you were surprised at his secret romantic inclinations — though, of course, you suppose all revolutionaries are romantics at heart.

It takes a great passion to care enough about the plight of the lesser man to want to change things, after all.

Enjolras had asked to walk along the Seine with you and watch the sunrise, and you’d told him he couldn’t afford to buy that much of your time, hoping that knowledge of your profession might deter his pursuit of your affections.

It did not and, against your better judgment, you’d let him kiss you as the sun rose over the river.

He has held your heart ever since and you have not known a day of peace for it.

Nevermind your profession, there is no room for love in the midst of a revolution — to make one life more precious than the lives of the masses is antithetical to everything Enjolras proselytizes … and yet…

His eyes are dark, satin pools, pupils blown wide with desire, staring through you to the depths of your soul. You could come apart under those eyes, even without the help of his fingers, probing experimentally at the growing slick between your legs.

Enjolras kisses you then, a soft, languid slanting of lips that breathes warmth into you all the way to your core. He holds you tight as you turn over in his hands, twisting until you are facing him, only parting so that he can lift the thin cotton shift you wear over your head and cast it aside, leaving you bare but for your stockings.

He takes your face in his hands and catches your mouth hungrily, coaxing you to open up for him just a little more with a heady swipe of his tongue. You make quick work of unwinding his dark crimson cravat to reveal the hard lines of his neck and fumble with the buttons of his waistcoat, desperate to undress him despite how he has not yet even shed his coat.

You breathe hard into the heat of his mouth as big hands roam the length of your body like Enjolras cannot decide where it is he would like most to touch you — the supple swell of your breasts or the soft dip of your waist.

He settles finally on the gentle curve of your rear, cupping you there and lifting you easily so you might wrap your legs around him. It is only as you settle in his strong arms that you finally feel the full press of his hard length digging into your hip, making his trousers all too tight.

You shudder against him and breathe his name, gripping needily at his neck and shoulders as his mouth moves down to leave searing crescent moon shapes over your jaw and the tender columns of your throat. It’s been no less than a week since you’d last been under his bruising touch, but it may as well have been a lifetime for how you yearn for him.

“Enjolras…” you whine.

“Hmm?”

“Make love to me,”

You feel the curve of his broad smile against your flesh and the rumble of gentle laughter in his chest, and you are nearly undone by the warmth swelling beneath your ribs as you are filled to the brim with emotion.

“As you wish, Mon Cher.”

It is only a few minutes more of fumbling, reverent touches and searing kisses before you’ve discarded the last of his clothing and he has you laid out on the bed.

He relieves you of your stockings one at a time, slowly peeling the thin material down your legs, kissing the soft mailable flesh of your thighs as he comes down to settle between your spread legs. You gasp when you feel the scrape of teeth on your inner thigh and push up on your elbows to watch as he settles there.

Searing breath fans your slick folds, a startling contrast to the chill that sends a shiver through your body as he pushes your legs up and out to spread you that much wider, exposing your dewy core to the air. You fist the bedsheets, watching him lick his lips, eyes bright in anticipation of the meal he is ready to make out of you.

The first tentative swipe of his tongue has you jumping, jerking at the wet heat slipping through your folds and drawing teasing circles around your opening. The little kitten licks that follow have you sinking back into the pillows, soft lilting sighs slipping from your mouth to fill the room and match the pleased, hungry sounds he is making from between your legs, muffled by the mouthful he has of your pussy.

His mouth is a sinful thing, all tongue and lips and the slightest hint of teeth, worshiping at the altar of your body with broad flat strokes up and down the length of your slit and teasing flicks to your tender nub. In no time at all you’re writhing against him, rocking your hips in search of more friction, tiny lilting sounds spilling from your mouth in an unending tide of praise and encouragement.

You tremble as he pulls back from your folds with a vulgar wet smack only to press the tip of his tongue to that little bundle of nerves throbbing with inattention. You moan, a high sound of needy ecstasy as he pulls it into his mouth and, ever so tenderly, suckles at it, sending a sharp spike of pleasure lancing you through your midsection.

You card your fingers through his hair, careful not to tug too hard as you guide him to where you need him most, which, at present, is on his back fucking up into you.

You are all too aware of how empty you are, clenching down pitifully on nothing at all.

What you don’t realize, however, is how you’ve been begging for him until he’s crawled up to meet you. He licks a fat, wet stripe up the length of your torso, over the swell of your breast and the pebbled bud of your nipple as he makes his way up. You jump under the sharp sensation as he nips at you, taking your breast between his teeth before soothing the offended flesh with a balm of his tongue.

A trail of searing wet kisses leads him further to your lips, the heat of his ministrations punctuated by the murmured assurances he showers you with. You can taste the sharp tang of your slick spread over his mouth and tongue as you suck his lower lip in past your own and let yourself be drawn up into Enjolras’s lap as he sits up and rocks back into the sea of pillows at the head of your bed.

You settle there, already flushed and a little lightheaded and having to brace yourself against his chest to stay upright as he lays back.

Once you have your bearings, you push up easily on your knees and take his rigid cock in hand, throbbing beneath your touch as you pump the length of him for good measure — not that you need to, he’s as hard as you imagine he can be, with the way his purpling tip responds to the way you swipe the pad of your thumb over his leaking slit.

When you turn your gaze back to watch him, you see his eyes are half hooded and his mouth has fallen open in a wanton panting, he hisses with pleasure when you squeeze and twist the head of him on the uptake, and suddenly his hand flies out to catch you by the wrist and still your motions.

He forces out a breathless laugh.

“Mon Cher — you’ll wring me out before we’ve even begun.” He warns you, and you click your tongue at such a thought.

“What’s got you so sensitive?” You tease, drawing featherlight touches up and down the thick vein throbbing on the underside of his shaft.

He grits his teeth and breathes out hard through his nose like he’s working hard at putting all his energy into keeping himself from spending over your fist. Enjolras shakes his head and forces himself to open his eyes, chest heaving.

“I told you — I missed you.”

Which is to say he’s more than likely been half-hard all evening in anticipation of this moment.

You find that to be immeasurably pleasing, picturing him sitting stoically amongst his compatriots, discussing revolution and democracy and the makings of history, all the while burning with unbridled lust and shifting awkwardly to conceal its effect on him.

You smirk as you lean forward to press a chase peck to the end of his nose.

“Darling, you don’t have to miss me when I’m right here.”

And then you press him to your core and sink down onto his length in one, swift motion that draws a shared groan of relief from the both of you. He’s sheathed in you to the hilt in a matter of moments, the heat of your walls clenching down and drawing him in like it’s desperate for every inch of him, hungry for more even as you’re filled to brimming with him.

It is all-encompassing, the way he clouds your senses, and anything witty you might have said dies on your tongue as you swallow hard, your nails scraping down the length of his heaving abdomen. The heady burn of how he stretches you is almost too much, and for a moment it is all you can do but sit there, speared on his cock and trembling as it presses bruisingly against your furthest wall.

Enjolras grips your thighs like your flesh is all he has to keep him grounded, throwing his head back into the pillows as he does his best to quell the gentle, unconscious rocking of his hips until you’re ready. For half a moment, you wonder if he is about to cum and if, as he’d prophesied, all of this will end before it’s even started.

You wait for his grip to ease up as he comes back to himself, and you breathe out a shaky sigh, nodding reassuringly when you feel him gently tap his fingers on your leg, silently asking after you.

Always the gentleman, checking on you in spite of his state, you could kiss him, but you’d have to rock forward to do so and you aren’t quite ready to move just yet.

You know he must be desperate to take you by your hips and rut up into you until he finds his release, but you also know he would rather cut off his own hand than do anything without your permission, so he waits, and you watch.

Oh how he suffers, your poor idealist.

You think perhaps you could tease him a little, draw this out for as long as possible, but you’d only be torturing yourself — there is no denying that you are as eager for him as he is for you, and your quick and fevered fingers drawing circles over your bud with thoughts of him are nothing compared to the real thing.

Finally, you push up on your knees again, keening at the thick drag of him against your tender walls, lifting almost to the point of dislodging him before dropping back down. Again. And again, until you’ve found a steady rhythm that has your skin crawling with ecstasy.

His isn’t the largest cock you’ve ever had, but you find that it fits you best, like it was tailor-made for you. It is certainly your favorite, though you are, perhaps, at least a tad biased when it comes to him.

Enjolras’s big hands grip and pull at you as you ride him, like he is caught again in the dilemma of where to touch you, how best to hold you. The filthy wet sounds of lovemaking fill the air, commingling with your soft moaning and the creak of the bed frame beneath you. It is the soundscape of any number of brothels across Paris, but between the two of you, it is like music.

And then, without warning, he braces himself against the mattress and cants his hips up to meet yours as you come down again. You yelp, from alarm as much as sensation, and the momentum of his sudden thrusting nearly dislodges you to send you toppling over.

You brace yourself on one arm to keep from falling, though by then Enjolras has sat up to catch you, holding you in his arms while he fucks up into you, just like you’d wanted. You curl your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and swivel your hips in perfect time to each of his thrusts, and you move together like a well-oiled machine.

This is how you like it best, straddling him with his arms wrapped around you, forehead pressed against his, inhaling his exhales — pure bliss — you bite your lower lip and smirk as you try to suppress a burst of joyful, breathy laughter.

“What’s funny?” He asks, his voice thick and strained and tinged with the slightest trace of humor.

You shake your head because it feels silly to tell him it’s nothing, only that this is your favorite thing in the world — bouncing on his cock — and you just wish you could do this forever.

Funny to hear someone who fucks for a living say something like that.

You just smile at him.

“I missed you,” you hum, in a gentle mockery of how he had said it before.

He still his motions ever so slightly as his face splits into a big, broad smile of his own, dimples pulling tight to indent his cheeks as he surges forward to kiss you again.

Your heart thumps solidly in your chest and you think perhaps that he is what all those poets must have been talking about when they wrote their sonnets and songs of love.

You think Enjolras must be the envy of the Gods of old, and somewhere, wherever they are, they stand weeping over his beauty because they will never have him.

Say what you will about his devotion to Madame Révolution, right here and now Enjolras’s heart belongs entirely to you, and you’re half inclined to think he might make a romantic out of you for it.

It takes no effort at all for him to roll you, and suddenly you’re pressed into the mattress below him. There is only the briefest moment’s pause in rhythm as the momentum of changing positions causes his length to slip from your heat. You whimper at the loss of him, and he shushes you, petting your face to soothe you because, of course, he is coming right back.

You gaze up at him, beautifully flushed and disheveled, openly panting but still smiling as he kneels over you, supported on one strong arm and readjusting to compensate for the new angle. You splay your legs open wide to allow for him to slot in as close as possible against your core, letting him spread you a little further past the point of comfort with a gentle hand on your knee before hitching your legs up and around his hips.

You only briefly feel the broad flare of him at your entrance as he lines himself up before seating himself in you once again. He pushes all the way to the root in one quick snap of his hips that has you throwing your head back and arching into his touch with a loud, wanton moan.

He is suddenly so much deeper than he was before, thrusting into you, and you feel ready to come apart at the seams as he sets an agonizingly slow pace— pulling almost all the way out before snapping back again, each hungry thrust of his hips slamming home up against that most tender spot at your furthest wall to make you see stars and colors.

It’s punishment for how you teased him before, you know it must be, but this is how he likes it, painfully slow and hard enough to knock the headboard against the wall.

He likes to take his time while he dismantles you, but you are impatient.

You’re fisting your hands in the sheets and lifting your hips up off of the bed, trying to meet his every thrust despite how he pushes you back down with a strong hand and holds you there firmly. It is only enough to keep you teetering on the torturous edge, never enough to send you over, never too little to draw you back.

You can feel the litany of desperate noises tumbling from your lips more than you can hear them over the vulgar squelching sounds that fill the air with every pass of his cock against your sticky walls, the harsh slap of skin on skin, his soft grunting and moaning filling the room as he moves. The slick mess that drips down your thighs makes for a smooth glide in and out of you — you could almost blush to imagine how it must be pooling in your bedsheets and making a sopping wet mess of him as well as yourself.

It’s enough to make your toes curl and your walls flutter and clench over the length of him, drawing a low rattling moan from deep within his chest.

You’re only vaguely aware of the things Enjolras says to you, the little rhetorical questions and naughty phrases to which you can only nod along in affirmation, too drunk on the delicious sensation of being so perfectly stretched by him to form coherent thoughts or responses.

Yes, it feels good — so, so good. Yes, you like it when he fucks you like this —faster, more. Yes, you’re his good girl, taking him so well — don’t stop — yes, yes yes yes…!

The vice he has on your hips is a bruising thing, and where before there was the painfully slow in and out and in and out, he snaps his hip again, and suddenly he’s hilted in you to the base, pelvis pressed flushed to yours as he begins a slow, rutting grind, just the perfect amount of friction against your swollen, needy bud to have you writhing under his weight.

Your eyes roll back and slide shut as you press your head into the pillows, exposing the tender columns of your throat and mewling at the sensation of being so full.

“Oh— f-f-uh—!” You bite the curse off with a shrill gasp, one hand flying down to grip his wrist as his big palm splays over the lowest point of your belly, applying pressure there like he is in danger of bursting through your abdomen and means to contain himself. “E-Enjolras—please!”

You can feel the vibration of his gentle laughter buzzing into you through his cock and it’s nearly enough to make you seize.

“Yes, my darling?” He teases, “What is it?”

You’re not sure you could have answered him at that moment if your life depended on it, you aren’t even sure what you’re asking of him. You’ve suddenly got your lower lip pulled so tightly between your teeth that you half expect to taste blood as the heat in your abdomen quickly begins to wind itself into a tight, quivering coil.

The unconscious canting of your hips to rock against his ministrations is a desperate thing as you try to chase more friction and bring yourself to climax.

And then you feel his movements growing lax, slower and slower until his hips still entirely. It draws a pitiful whine from deep within you as the orgasm you’d been balancing on the edge of turns gossamer and slips through your fingers.

A calloused hand comes up to settle over your jaw then, and rubs tenderly up over your cheek. You feel his thumb brush away a dewiness you hadn’t been aware of forming on your lashes and suddenly the plush spread of his lips is at your throat.

“Open your eyes, mon amour —” he whispers, kissing the tender spot just beneath your ear, “Look at me.”

It takes some effort, but eventually, you obey, chest heaving and eyes blurry as you gaze up at him, suddenly leaning over you on his elbows. You reach up to brush stray curls from where they stick to his sweat-slicked forehead with a shaking hand and feel your chest swelling with emotion again.

He is so handsome and so kind, and he could so easily be yours — he would whisk you away from all this if only you would let him.

How you wish you would let him.

There are tears in your eyes then, spilling over your lashes and down your cheeks to pool at your jawline.

Enjorlas’s brows come together in tight-knit concern and the thumping of his heart against your own is almost enough to make you forget he’s still got his cock in you.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, so gently you could fall apart beneath him as he brushes the pad of his thumb over the spread of your lower lip, like a key unlocking the chest where you keep your most precious secrets.

The words tumble foolishly from your lips before you can stop them.

“I love you,” you gasp.

The confession is shocking, like the clanging of a bell. Ever so briefly, you watch something closer to hurt than you like to see on him flash across his dark eyes, shifted nearly black with wanting. The pained look is gone in an instant, replaced instead by a crumpled smile, like he can hardly believe he’s heard you correctly.

He’s professed his love to you a dozen times over, in and out of the heady spell of lovemaking, and you’ve dismissed the notion a dozen times again.

You’re both all too painfully aware of the hideous cliche you’ve found yourselves in, a man falling in love with a whore, begging her for her fidelity where she cannot offer it, making a thousand promises of the honest life they could live together if only she’d give herself over to him.

You’ve had countless other men make you similar, needy promises in the heat of the moment, caught in the vice of your pussy and teetering on climax, but those intentions always fade to dust the moment they spill over and come back to their senses.

Enjolras has never once gone back on his word, whether he is in his right mind or drunk on your flesh — you’re half inclined to believe he could deliver on those promises, make an honest woman of you, take you away to live with him in some little cottage where he would marry you and you’d raise a brood of wild children together.

You’re almost foolish enough to believe you could be happy together for more than a few fleeting moments of frenzied fucking. Still, your heart throbs in your chest for the impending consequences of what you have just done — you aren’t allowed to love him.

He searches your face for the answer to a question he has not yet asked as he draws an invisible tear down the side of your face with the line of his smallest finger.

His voice is thick and heady with indiscernible emotion when he speaks.

“Say it again.”

You shouldn’t. You ought to shut up, send him away, implore him to forget he ever learned your name, but you cannot.

You push up on your elbows to slot your mouth against his — kissing him to make him believe you, to somehow pass through him and whisper the closest kept secrets of your heart to his.

You wrap your arms around his neck and press yourself to him, feeling the sticky drag of his chest hair against your peaked, sensitive nipples as he moves to snake an arm around your midsection.

“I love you,” you breathe against his lips. “I lov-”

He surges forward and kisses you again, a bruising press of his lips hard enough that you can barely move your mouth to return the gesture.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he suddenly rolls his hips, drawing back and thrusting in once more as he falls into a punishing pace, spurred into action by the admission — the reciprocation — of your feelings.

You brace a hand against the rattling headboard, clanging against the wall in time with the jostling of the bed frame, your high breathy voice answering the deeper timber of his own as he fucks into you in desperate search of his climax.

The coil in your belly grows tight and white hot again and you can feel the muscles in his abdomen growing tense against you.

In no time, his thrusting grows sloppy and erratic as he nears his finish and you grow eager for your own. He banishes your fingers with an aggressive swipe as they scrabble down to brush tight circles over your swollen nub, electing to get the job done himself. You jolt up needily against the calloused flesh of his thumb, abusing that tender bundle of nerves at a rapid-fire pace.

It boils over all too quickly.

Before you can think to open your mouth, warn him of your impending climax, you’ve come up and over, and the coil in your belly snaps.

Your body goes rigid, and you tremble with the agony of your ecstasy, washing over you like the surf, wave after powerful wave knocking you back again before you’ve had time to take a breath. You gasp out a strangled cry and dig your fingers into his arms, Enjolras’s pace only briefly faltering as your walls clench on him like a vice. He continues to fuck into you through your orgasm, stretching the release as far as it will go until you’ve strayed the line of overstimulation and you’re scrambling to try and get away from his punishing touch.

Thankfully, he is not far behind you.

He rolls his hips one, twice, thrice more before he’s pulling you as tight to him as he can manage, burying his face into the expanse of dewy flesh between your heaving breasts and spilling into you with a low guttural moan.

It’s almost enough to have you climaxing again, and you would have cried out at the bright, warm sensation flooding up against the quivering walls of your heat, if your voice were not trapped in your throat. He rolls his hips with each ropey spurt he leaves in you until finally he is spent and he collapses on top of you with a sigh of relief and the dead weight of his whole body.

Time ceases to matter, stretching infinitely before you as you lay together, breathing in tandem. Your lungs protest as they fight to expand, crushed into the mattress beneath him as you are, but you ignore their haughty complaints.

You consider never getting up, letting him slip beneath your skin and live like this in the bright, hazy moments of afterglow with sweat drying tacky on your bodies, the evidence of your joint efforts oozing from out between your legs around his softening cock. You sigh out your contentment, drawing lazy patterns across his back and relishing in how perfect this moment is, without the world pressing in on you.

Enjolras’s chest expands against you as he breathes deep and exhales, and you imagine the exhaustion tugging at him, threatening to lull him to sleep in your arms. You card your fingers through his hair, petting him and listening to the little pleased hums it draws from the hollow of his throat.

You could let yourself love him like this, almost imagining that you are in the life he’s promised you, tucked safely away in a little home, far removed from Paris and the troubles of your lives. Still, nothing lasts forever, and the gentle nagging of consequences begins to tug at you.

You can suddenly hear hushed, giggling voices outside your door and you grit your teeth against the violent feeling they stir in you.

Nasty little voyeurs.

You drum your fingers gently over Enjolras’s bicep and apply the slightest amount of pressure, prompting him to roll off and away from you so that you might sit up. You shiver at the jarring emptiness of his slipping out of you and you push up from the bed, crossing to the wash basin on shaky legs.

In your perfect life, you wouldn’t have to be so quick to wash him from you. You could relish in the sensation of being filled, the possibility of bearing his children, but this is not your perfect life, so you wet a rag and make quick work of cleaning yourself up.

You fetch your dressing down from where it lays discarded on the floor and shrug into it.

“Do you want me to go?” You hear Enjolras ask then, his voice thick and raw.

He’s sitting up against the headboard, breathing a little easier now though still so beautifully flushed. You watch him reach up and brush his hair back from his face with a boyish nervousness that plunges a dagger into your heart.

Of course, it occurs to you now how it might seem like a rejection, so hastily sloughing him off.

You smile and cross back to the bed, sinking down into the mattress and tucking yourself in against his body to banish the notion.

“No,” you purr, taking his face in your hands, “I want you to stay.”

The relief that passes over him is palpable as a tension you hadn’t been aware of until that moment clears.

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks you, the rawness of the question so painfully sweet it puts a lump in your throat, “…that you love me?”

Your heart seizes in your chest, because how could he ask you such a question?

As easily as you can fool yourself into thinking it was true.

You watch him watching you, waiting for the faintest hint of a response, and you lean forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. A brief, chaste peck that ends too soon and leaves you wanting to do it again and again.

You could waste the night kissing him like that, like bright notes of honey you are entirely too greedy for.

His hand flies up to shadow yours against his face, keeping you there as he turns into your touch and presses a gentle kiss to your palm.

But now you’ve left the question unanswered too long, and the faintest hint of that hurt look is back in his eyes.

“Do you love me?”

You hate to do it, but you have to address the consequences of your actions. You have to be practical for both your sakes.

“Of course I do, mon Chéri,” you sigh, “And you love me, but what does it matter when you have the revolution? Your citizen meetings and all the people who look to you for guidance?”

“What has one got to do with the other?” He huffs, “I love you independently of my duty to the revolution–”

You furrow your brow, because one has everything to do with the other. You are surprised at how he could be blind to that.

You think that perhaps it is a willful blindness.

“My love, you do nothing independent of your duty to the revolution when you are its leader.”

His jaw tightens and his brows come together as he immediately rejects the notion.

“I’m not–” he snaps, then takes a breath, taking up your hand as he corrects himself and speaks a little more gently, “No, I’m not … there are no leaders among us.”

You do your best to ignore the hurt that flashes across his face when you take your hand back.

“Oh no? And who do you think they’ll come for when the city is burning and the aristocracy cries out for someone to hang? Will you send someone else to the noose?”

He shakes his head in a way that you think is perhaps too petulant for someone in his position, with his resolve.

“It won’t come to that.” He says.

“Won’t it?” You press, and then you add with a biting tone, “Are you so unwilling to be a martyr to your cause?”

Enjolras levels you with an incredulous look, something almost halfway to hurt as he turns those big dark eyes on you. He is looking at you like he can’t believe what you’re saying, like you’re rejecting him.

“Why are we talking about this?” He implores, “What does it matter?”

“It matters if you love me. There is no room for love in revolution — you’re the one who preaches that.” you press, leaning into him when he looks away, defiant of his own words.

“I preach nothing.” He says sullenly.

“Don’t make yourself a hypocrite, Enjolras. Don’t give them that to use against you.”

You know he knows this, and were he not so caught in the vice of his feelings he would agree with you, but you also know he doesn't want to hear it anymore than you want to say it.

The silence that blooms between you is tense. You watch him flex his jaw and listen to him breathe, and you wonder if you’ve gone and ruined a perfectly splendid moment for nothing.

Then again what do you know about martyrs and causes? Perhaps you are wrong and it is not impossible, simply improbable.

Somehow you highly doubt that.

You sigh and bring your knees up to hug against your chest.

“Forgive me…” you begin, “It’s not my place to say it. I shouldn’t—”

He doesn’t let you finish.

“Would you come away with me if I asked?”

It is another shocking, bell-clanging moment, along the same vein of your own confession.

You’re fully aware of how you’re gawping at him, but you can hardly believe he even said it as the question lingers between you. The sudden change has you laughing, for shock rather than unkindness.

He remains steely in his resolve and waits for your answer.

“Come away with you?” You echo, and your heart thumps in anticipation of the answer you cannot give him — yes of course.

It’s all you’ve ever wanted. Still, humor is the soothing balm to the way your heart cries out in protest because you cannot go, no matter how desperately you want to ... and yet...

Not impossible... simply improbably...

“What could you possibly offer me enticing enough to abandon my life here, living in the lap of luxury?” You ask, beaming as you gesture grandly to the modest room, with its peeling wallpaper and holes in the ceiling.

In a strident contrast to the way you poke fun, Enjolras is serious as the plague as he takes up your hands again.

“I would offer you everything I have.” He says earnestly, “My life — my fidelity.”

The heat of his gaze is intense enough to have you turning shy and looking down at your hands, at the way he’s caressing your knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

You're laughing again, suddenly giddy with possibility.

“Your fidelity? You would abandon your true love? All your work for the revolution? For me?”

He nods.

“For you, I would leave tonight.”

You hum thoughtfully, dropping your chin to the sinewy muscle of his shoulder.

“What about life and liberation of the working class?”

His voice is soft when he answers, rattling in his chest with a deeply tired sigh, like he hasn’t slept in months. You have to wonder whether he ever rests outside of your company.

“Let someone else fight for a change.” He says, his eyes growing distant. It is entirely uncharacteristic of him, and enough to make you think he might be serious.

He would leave — with you, no less — leave all that he knows behind for a love that is forbidden. How wonderfully uncharacteristic of him.

What a story yours is. A common whore and a jaded revolutionary.

How terribly cliche.

And then like a proposal, he moves so that he is kneeling in front of you, his soul bare for you to judge and do with what you like.

“Come away with me.” He says, “Be my wife.”

You cannot speak, your tongue has suddenly turned to cotton in your throat. You imagine saying yes, leaving tonight, but your heart is torn.

You could marry him, but with what money? He cannot afford to keep you and without an income, you cannot afford not to work. And what would leaving mean for the lives you left behind?

What would happen to girls like Marie and Clotilde without your guardianship? How many revolutions have died in their infancy because lesser men than Enjolras decided to leave the fight to someone else?

Amidst all these worries and questions, another series springs to the front of your mind and branches out, growing wild with reckless abandon.

Why does it all rest on your shoulders?

Why is it not enough just to be lovers?

It is a pretty dream, your other life in a little house, married happily and rearing curly-haired children with their father’s dark eyes — why should you be doomed to live your life resigned to dreaming?

Why? Why why why? ...Why not?

For half a moment, you watch Enjorlas crumple before you, like he is anticipating the rejection.

Your heart breaks for him.

How conflicting it must be to balance his two selves, the stalwart revolutionary with the desperate romantic.

If only his compatriots knew how he suffered for the revolution, you fear they would tear him to pieces.

You would shield him from that if you could.

You bring your hand up to cup his jaw on one side, and then the other, and you draw him to you.

"Your fidelity won't put bread on my table," you say softly, "But I would take it if you let me, if only because you offered it to me."

His eyes widen ever so briefly, and his face splits into that big, shining grin again. He laughs, too struck to speak like he had already resigned himself to the slow death of your impending rejection, and to hear the opposite has wiped clean the slate of his mind.

You love it when he's speechless.

You can’t stop your lips from quirking up into a shy smile. “Unless you didn’t mean it–?” You tease, but he doesn't let you finish, crashing forward to press a bruising kiss to your lips.

“I meant it.” He says quickly, breathlessly between kisses – his hands come up to grasp your shoulders and hold you to the spot, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t have a hand on you, you’ll slip away.

You smile against his lips.

“Then I will come away with you.”

You let him kiss you and bask in the unbridled warmth blooming in your chest because now you never have to stop.

There is nothing more to keep you apart. He is yours to have as you please forever, and you are his.

Somewhere, in the belly of the house, you think you hear the slamming of the front door, the telltale commotion of the Madam's return, but you can't make yourself care. This is the last night you'll spend in this wretched place, the last time you'll have to steal for a moment of intimacy with the man you love. You think on what Enjolras said before, about letting someone else fight for a change, and while you know he won't stop his fighting, you resign yourself to letting go of your own battles with a strange lightness.

You know he won't give up on the revolution. She is the other woman in his life, after all, but you are pleasantly surprised to find that you don't mind sharing him.

You’d been so worried he would make a romantic out of you, you’d never once considered he might make a revolutionary out of you.

A courtesan turned revolutionary’s wife — how perfectly wonderful.

#bbc enjolras #enjolras x reader #bbc les mis #enjolras x fem!reader #enjolras x you #reader insert #not gonna outright put this in the general les mis tag because ya girl knows better #i'm not super happy with how this ended but I needed it to end because I'm incapable not not writing long fics #and this is about the smut everybody please #if you find typos no you didn't i've been staring at this so long i've gone cross eyed #can you tell i wrote this in a fever after rewatching moulin rouge? #its about the yEARNING #it's about the FORBIDDEN LOVE

[pedgito]

Enjolras grabbing you and holding you up against a wall for a quick fuck super dirty just shoving clothes aside panting into your neck

author’s note: i realize writing for enjolras can be a tricky but to anyone seeing this and not agreeing with the way i wrote it, don’t bother me, because frankly i don’t care lol. anyways, that being said, to those of you that do read this, i hope you enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), bbc!enjolras, fem!reader, canon divergence, unprotected sex, semi-public but clothed, mentions of drinking, this was literally just a reason to write for enjolras to see how people liked it/how i would enjoy writing him, so if it flops, this didn’t happen. if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 2.6k

You’d wasted nearly a month of your time infiltrating their rebellion under your father’s order—and it had been going well, not a single hendrence in your plans until a very unfortunate night, on the precipice of courageous attack being led by Enjolras himself, speaking out in a boastful manner to his people at these sacred meetings—it gave many hope that things could change, that they had a fighting chance. In your eyes, it was all lies. You came from the other side, experienced how they lived, the power they had—it was a battle he was going to lose regardless of how passionate he was for it. He was outnumbered, easy to outsmart, and despite his passion for the cause, he was blinded by it.

You felt sympathy, it was why you were able to fit yourself in so easily, so well—he never questioned your intentions for a second, swearing by the look of determination in your eye, your willingness to throw out ideas, boost the morale—but if there was one thing about him, it was that he knew just the right things to say, even to the people who didn’t believe it. He was great at convincing people to believe lies, acting like he had the answer to everything and everyone’s problems.

It would be easier if there wasn’t a war at all, but it seemed like the only way to solve issues now, fight first and solve things later.

The first night you end up alone with him isn’t intentional. It’s a late night at the bar, your tired figure nestled up in a chair in a dark corner of the room, Enjolras nursing his drink from the other end, watching as his friends parted ways. You had a bed to sleep in, a lavish home to keep you safe, but you wanted nothing more than to be away from that, if even for just a moment.

Enjolras tells you of his background, how he grew up, why he cared about the things that he did—and it made you realize that under all his anger and crazed acts, he was a lot like you. If not, he was more sure of himself than you. You were lost, fighting between right and wrong and only doing what your father had ordered, but you could feel it in your bones—this wasn’t right.

They had every reason to fight against the more fortunate; the richer, arrogant, mindless people running the show—they were all just as horrible as everyone assumed and you’d seen it firsthand.

Your backstory is simple—you came from nothing, were nothing, and you were tired of living that way. You’ve practiced it for weeks, making it all seem as believable as possible. He believes it, at least, he acts like he does.

From that point on, and the weeks follow, Enjolras turns to you every night, both of you staying later than necessary to talk about the day and complain about nonsense, sometimes sitting in the silence, listening to the other conversations in the establishment, watching as Enjolras separated the food on his plate, sharing with you.

You never went hungry, not when you were being served several course meals most nights, but you played along anyways.

Enjolras is dedicated to the cause with an obscured ambition and it feels like maybe you won’t be able to break-through to him, relying on the fact that maybe you could seduce him enough to have him slip-up, even the smallest tidbit of information.

Your father was growing angry, more and more upset that you were coming home empty-handed.

Until another night leads to several drinks, Enjolras leaning over you as he grabbed for the liquor, a sated smile pasted over his face. He didn’t smile often, not genuinely, but it was mesmerizing nonetheless.

“Darling, you’re going to clean this place out, you know?” He comments, voice thick as he swallowed the bitter alcohol.

“Must you insult me like that?” You tease, “I am a lady, after all.”

Enjolras gives you a look, one that’s calling your bluff outright.

“I am,” You squeak, shoving him away playfully, “Shall I prove it?”

Enjolras tilts his head slightly, considering it.

“I’m not being serious.” You tell him before he can answer.

“Yes, darling. I’m aware.” He tells you, “It does not make the idea any less intriguing though, I must admit.”

You snort softly, grabbing at your peacoat and shrugging it over your shoulders, “I think you’re at your limits, Enjolras.”

He peers at the bottle, holding it up to shine under the light, only enough for a small sip left in the bottle. He still seemed as sturdy as a rock, just more relaxed, less worrisome.

“I think you are right.” He agrees with a giddy laugh, pressing the bottle back against the table, the uneven weight of it causing the glass to rock, rattling to a stop. “Leaving already?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” You tell him, rising from your seat. It doesn’t take him more than a second to grab your hand, fingers pressed gently against your ring and middle, an unthought attempt to stop you. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Tomorrow.” He tells you simply, eyes unnerving as he glances toward the floor, around the room, before landing back on you.

“Where?” You inquire, knowing full well what he meant.

“Outside the wine shop, if things go south.”

It was the piece of information you so desperately needed, giving the other side even more of a fighting chance—your face fell slightly, nodding in response as you shrugged your hand away.

“Sleep well, Enjolras.” You tell him before fleeing without another word, disregarding the few goodbyes you receive, feet carrying you faster than you can manage yourself, stumbling over your feet as you round the corner outside the bar, disappearing down a dark alley.

You take a long breath, body relaxed as you feel the weight drift from your chest, removing the coat you had shrugged on as you felt hot, overheated, throwing it to the ground angrily.

“Running home to daddy, I assume?” His voice travels like an echo down the long, dark alley.

Your hand clutches over your chest, heart feeling like it’s going to burst. You muffle the scream with your other hand, staring at the dark figure as it approaches—his face was cold, eerily void of emotion.

“Enjolras, please.” You beg, knowing there was no using in lying. If he knew, he’d known for a while.

He huffs a vindicte laugh, pulling uncomfortably at the right ascot around his neck. “Is that where you go every night?”

“Enjolras, you do not understand.” You ignore his question, trying to level with him.

“I believe I do, darling.” He responds tensely, “How would he feel knowing you’ve been fraternizing so closely with the enemy? I thought it was all business with you monarchy people.”

“Wouldn’t you know?” You retort, “You are no different—only because you’re fighting against them you think that makes you better? You come from the same life that I do, do not try and belittle me.”

“So that, back there, that was only an act?”

The flirting, he means. You’d never considered he cared, giving his unwavering attention to his own cause, you didn’t think he cared that much. But clearly, you were wrong.

“Isn’t all of it?” You retort.

“You tell me, darling.” Enjolras challenges, taking a brave step forward, forcing you to stumble back against the wall. “Are you really going to allow all of these lives to be lost? Are you going to run back home and tell him everything?”

You shove him away weakly, eyes glaring harshly.

“It is no business of yours, Enjolras.” You tell him firmly, “Give this up, come fight with us—you’re on the side that has no chance, you do realize?”

“Are you trying to convince me?” He asks, “My love, you must try harder.”

“You’re infuriating.” You complain, “Your voice, your attitude—I'd rather hinder my hearing if that meant not having to listen to your voice again.”

It’s not the route he’s expecting you to take, but two can play at that game. The frustration was building, boiling over, and he could see it in the way your body canted toward him inconspicuously, despite your vile words.

His touch ghosts over your hip, pulling at the shirt tucked loosely in your britches, squeezing at the soft skin.

“Likewise.” He agrees, watching as you rested your hand against the him of his trousers, traveling up his dirtied shirt, over his vest, pulling at the ascot until it came loose. “Now, let us see if I can change your mind, yes?”

Enjolras gently yanks the red material of his ascot from your hands, taking his time as he wraps it around your head, knot settling between your teeth as you bite down, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Not a word,” He warns, “Understood?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, letting him shift you until your front is pressed against the brick wall, his hands sifting through the layers of clothing shared between you both until he’s free enough that he can fist his cock, the hard ridge of it pressed against the curve of your ass, his hands squeezing soft at the flesh of your thigh, traveling up enough to tap against the innermost flesh, motioning for you to spread your legs slightly.

His calloused fingers drag over your folds, finding their way to the center and covering his fingers in your slick, moan muffled around the soft fabric shoved into your mouth.

“They’re probably worried sick,” Enjolras comments, “wondering where you are, if you’re hurt—if they only knew.”

You make a noise of defiance, pressing back against his fingers, the pad of his middle nudging against your clit, eyes squeezed shut in response.

You’ve been deprived of touch for so long that this felt needed, wanted—and even the smallest touch had your eyes rolling back, keening against him. He gives no warning when he slips inside, though his movements are slow. He’s responding to your noises, the soft clenches of your walls around the tip of his cock as he moves in small thrusts, groans muffled behind his clenched teeth.

“Women like you don’t deserve to be bed properly,” He comments harshly, “are they attempting to marry you off already?”

You shake your head furiously, allowing him to grasp your hands behind your back, shoving your body gingerly against the harsh texture of the wall—it’s a stark contrast to the way he’s consuming you, but you don’t question it.

“I figured as much,” He comments lowly, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, panting harshly as he increases his speed, the ferocity of it, a startling gasp slipping from your lips, failing to be muffled by the fabric. Enjolras’s hand cups over your mouth, “Quiet,” He orders harshly, “do you not listen?”

Again, you shake your head. If you did, you would’ve never ended up in this situation. Enjolras leans back slightly, loose grip on your hands as he pulls out slowly, thrusting into you harshly, watching as his cock disappeared inside of you, squeezing at the soft globes of your ass.

“You drive me mad in the worst ways,” Enjolras admits, “but you are divine, you know?”

You make a noise, drawing his attention up. He sighs, pulling the fabric from your mouth, pressing a single finger against your lips to warn you of your volume.

“How so?” You ask quietly, teasingly, hoping it gets under his skin.

“You fit me perfectly,” He acknowledges, “such a shame you were ready to betray me so easily.”

“I had you fooled,” You chide, confidence seeping through, “for a while, at least.”

Enjolras releases your hands, his own palms spreading over the expanse of your back, forcing the shirt up higher as he grips your hips, pulling you tight against him. Your palms slapped against the wall, held there for support.

“I could teach you things,” He tells you softly, “things you haven’t even come to understand—I’d make you realize which side you should be fighting for, you’d never want to leave.”

“So, you’re not hoping for your—your cock to do the job?” You stammer out, whining softly with each movement of his hips. “I thought that was the point of all this?”

“Partly.”

“I’m not dull, Enjolras. I have higher education, I know—why do you think I agreed with my father so—so easily,” It’s redundant, he doesn’t answer, “I hate their stance just as much as you, but they are my family. I cannot abandon them.”

“A shame,” He seethes, reaching around your front to palm roughly at your breasts, pulling you back against him, other hand slipping over your cunt, circling your clit furiously, “—at least I have this to remember you by.”

You’ve never been with anyone like this—it’s usually slow, sensual, sweet. This was nothing but anger and frustration, hatred for the same cause, but fighting on two different sides. It was a battle, deep rooted in confusion.

“Knowing you may die tomorrow?” You ask tensely, stalling his movements slightly. “This is how you wanted to spend your final night? If it must be?”

“I liked you better quiet.” He spits at you.

You laugh brokenly, the harsh pass over your clit sending you over the edge, cunt clenching around him as buries himself deep inside, coming with little warning as he attempts to pull out, but held still by the hand forcing him there, buried into his shirt as you both ride out the high of your orgasms, moaning into the silence of the night, both of you barely visible at this hour from the lack of a full moon. His mouth rests against the back of your neck, nose buried into the back of your hair, most of it piled up messily atop your head.

“You’re at risk of dying, too—if not more than me. These people, they’re passionate. If they find out—“

“Will they?” You ask quietly, hearing the faint rustle of his pants as he pulls out of you.

You turn, connecting eyes with him. He seems hesitant to answer.

“Oh, darling—don’t be coy now. You come inside of me, threatening me with the burdance of bearing your child if fate has it that way, and now you can’t even look my way?”

“That’s not—“ He begins, shaking his head.

“You men are all the same.” You tell him harshly, “Just because what you think you’re doing is right, it doesn’t make you a good person.”

“My love—“ He begins.

“Calling me that doesn’t make it so,” You retort, “you hated me just a few moments ago, am I wrong?”

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” He admits, “Not before, not during the rebellion.”

You smile tightly, adjusting your clothes back to their original place, reaching down to fetch your coat.

“How sweet,” You tell him, patting his chest, “I guess we shall see how tomorrow goes, that should determine where this takes us.”

But unfortunately, you had a sneaking suspicion that none of this would end well, for either of you.

“Stay,” He tells you, “for a few more hours, that’s all I ask.”

You’re hesitant, every morsel of your being telling you otherwise. You ignore it, allowing yourself to enjoy what may be your last night.

“Another bottle and you have a deal, Enjolras.” You barter, watching the grin grow on his face—because despite how much he wanted to hate you, he wasn’t sure he could. Given the time he had gotten to know you, learn about you, he had to believe there was a part of you that would do the right thing,

Although, it was much too late for that.

“After you, darling.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#bbc!enjolras #enjolras x reader #enjolras x fem!reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #enjolras x you #enjolras x y/n #jq!enjolras #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn smut #my writing

[rocknrollbabe14]

No Place For The Likes of You (Enjolras x Reader)

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. SEXUAL THEMES HEAVILY DISCUSSED.

WARNINGS: Sexual themes, sexual language, one night stand, drinking, premarital sex, oral sex (female receiving), missionary (unprotected sex), slight bondage?, creampie?, ANGST, death? If I left anything out, let me know.

Also, let me know if this warrants a second part?

Thank you to @josephs-quinns for my amazing header ❤️

One day your mother had tasked you with taking some food to your father and the others who were fighting for more rights for the French. There had been an uprising and your father took part in it, much to your mother’s dismay. Your father reminded you this was not a woman’s place. A revolution of this caliber was not a woman’s place. Her place was in the home: cooking, cleaning and having children. You were young but had yet to find a man to sweep you off your feet. Your father, of course, would have to approve. You’d been asked by a few men to be courted, however, they were not up to your father’s high standards. He only wanted the best for you. 

Tensions had significantly risen since then, especially since Enjolras had taken his place as the unspoken, charismatic leader of the Friends of the ABC, the revolutionaries your father had joined. Enjolras appeared to be very standoffish when you first met him. Sometimes you thought back to your first meeting with him. He looked you up and down, perhaps curious as to why you were in the local pub bringing your father and his fellow republicans food. Some of the men were talking about their love interests or wives back home, Enjolras immediately reminding them they did not have time for romance, no time to be lovesick schoolboys before explaining to them this wasn’t the place for the likes of them if they were going to worry more about women than the revolution.

His solution for romance was to replace it with a revolution. He was ignited with passion, something that drew you to him. He was willing to fight for his country, even vowing to fight to the death if that meant freedom. It was noble of him, but you couldn’t help to fear your father may meet that fate. Some nights, you’d lay in bed and think about him. You didn’t know anything about him other than his passion for freedom. There was something about him that made your heart skip a beat. It was clear he wasn’t looking for a lover or something serious. 

You both had shared some passing glances, his eyes following you as you left the room. There was no way you’d ever be able to tell him how he made you feel—he’d never be receptive to it. His mind was clear on what he wanted and a woman didn’t quite fit into that equation. It was the night before the planned attack, the day they said would go down in history. A lot of the men were asleep, Enjolras telling them to rest and that they had a big day ahead of them. You had come to tell your father you loved him. You feared it would be the last night you would see him alive.

Enjolras was outside, drinking. He looked as if he had a lot on his mind. You were sure he did. The shine in his brown eyes made it seem like he knew what tomorrow was going to bring. 

“Going home so soon?”, Enjolras asked, his speech slightly slurred from the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

His question caught you off guard, causing you to jump slightly before turning to meet his glance.

“Um, well, my mom is probably wondering where I am. It’s late.”, you rubbed your arm nervously. 

“Your father is a hell of a man.”

He edged closer to you, putting his cup up in the air before taking another sip, giving you a chance to admire his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

You smiled easily. “Thank you, he’s always been very strong-willed.”

“I can see you take after him.”, Enjolras took another smaller sip from his wine.

A small smile spread across your lips, but all you could think about was the possibility your father wouldn’t return home. Your mother would be crushed, but she understood this was an important cause to your father. 

“Can I ask you something?”, Enjolras brought you out of your thoughts. 

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been with a man?”

His question took you aback. “I’m sorry?”

Enjolras inched closer to you, so close the aroma of alcohol tickled your nose. His brown eyes stared deeply into yours, seeing if you would falter the least little amount. You could almost feel his breath on you, it made your insides twist and turn. 

“Have you ever had a man ravish you? I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

You felt your cheeks growing hot. The air was cool, but your cheeks were warm. 

“I don’t know what you mean, Enjolras.” 

He smirked easily. “I’ve seen the way your eyes meet mine when you come to see your father. Like you want something…desire something.”, he hummed. 

“Perhaps I’m just curious about you.”, you match his tone. 

He smirked easily. “Why not let your curiosity get the best of you tonight?”

“Elaborate, Enjolras.”

He came closer to you, the sound of his inhale reaching your ear. “I may not be promised another day. Tomorrow may be my very last day, tomorrow I may die for freedom. Would you let me ravish you? Share this one last night together? Feeding both of our devilish desires?”

You had never been with a man before. His offer was bold, however, you admitted to yourself you had fantasized about him. You felt his free hand find your waist, fingertips touching the soft fabric of your dress. You felt his breath on your neck, an indication of just how close he was to you. But you also knew if you slept with him, you’d be committing an act of sin. You were supposed to wait until marriage. But how could you when the opportunity was right in front of you? Especially with a man who was the caliber of Enjolras.

“If my parents find out—”, your mouth was dry.

“They won’t find out, we can go up to my room. You just have to be quiet until we get there.”, he breathed.

You were quiet, pondering his offer. Enjolras was the epitome of what you wanted in a man, but you knew in the long run he wasn’t concerned with finding someone to settle down with. Not right now, not when there was a revolution. If he did live after tonight, what would become of you two? 

“What do you say, amour?”

He could tell there was some hesitation about his proposal. But you were ready to give in.

“I will, Enjolras.”, you breathed. 

A smile spread across his lips. He brought the cup of his wine up to your lips, the aroma instantly filling your nose. You had never drank. It wasn’t very becoming for a woman to drink alcohol. 

“Take a drink. It’ll help relax you......”

Your eyes looked to the side, just catching a glimpse of his arm. How Enjolras was causing you to come undone morally in just a matter of moments showed just how much of a hold, how much power he had over you.

“Okay.”, you breathed.

He tipped the cup, your mouth opened ever so slightly. You felt the liquid hit your tongue. It was sour but not the worst you had ever tasted. It tasted like grapes that had gone sour. You felt Enjolras watching you, seeing how much you could take. You were able to withstand more than you thought you would, Enjolras moving the cup away from your mouth. You swallowed your last drink, taking a deep breath. 

“It’ll hit you in a little bit. Impressive for someone who’s never drank before.”

You nodded feverishly, just wishing he’d take you already. But if you knew anything about Enjolras, he took his time to execute his plan. He finished off the wine, tossing the cup to side. You felt his other hand soon meet your waist. 

“You never answered my question earlier…..”

“Which one?”, you asked softly.

“Have you ever been with a man?”, he repeated.

“N-no, I’m a virgin—if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You mean I’m gonna be the first one to have you?”, he hummed. 

“Y-yes….”

He hummed again before his lips met your neck. “So nice and sweet that….you’re willing to give me….my dying wish…..”, he placed kisses down your neck, meeting your chest.

“You don’t know that you’re going to die….”

He stopped in his tracks. “I think I will, I quite literally have had a target on my back for months now.”

To be honest, you didn’t want to think about him dying. You didn’t want to think about anyone dying. No one needed to die. But you had heard Enjolras speak. According to him, someone must die. 

“You may come out of this.”, you said, trying to keep on the bright side of things. 

You heard his breathing hitch. There was mostly silence in the streets tonight, most everyone resting up for tomorrow. You heard the distant sound of music, an ominous hum. Enjolras didn’t speak for a few moments, going back to placing kisses on your neck, causing you to release soft sighs and borderline moans. You could feel him smirk against your skin. 

“Have you had women before?”, you choked out, voice hoarse.

Enjolras chuckled softly against your skin. “Do you really want to know?”

You nodded. “Mhmmm….”

“I have……..a few…….but none as pretty and innocent as you…..”

You felt a blush coming down your cheeks. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is……”, he groaned softly. “Are you ready to go upstairs?”

You nodded. 

You felt his lips leave your neck, causing you to whimper at the loss of contact. Another smirk spread across your lips as he realized how delicate and innocent you were. He grabbed your hand, leading you to the door of the pub. There was an apartment above the pub, you assumed this was where Enjolras had been staying for a few months now. He put his pointer finger over his lips, reminding you to stay quiet as he opened the door to the pub. All the men were asleep in different places. You all tip-toed past them, Enjolras leading you to the staircase. 

“Miss the third step, it creaks terribly.”, he whispered.

You nodded, making sure to miss and avoid the third step on the series of steps. You all reached the top, Enjolras opening the door to his apartment. You saw a bed, some of his clothes, books, maps, and his weapons. There was nothing super personable to him. For a man, it was fairly organized. It caught you off guard, surprised. He closed the door easily behind you, the room only illuminated by candlelight. The window was cracked slightly, a cool summer night. The day had been so warm, almost sweltering. 

“Where do you want me to start?”, he asked, softly. 

“However you wish.”

“This isn’t all about me.”, he began. “Contrary to popular belief.”

You reached for your hair, letting it down easily out of its tight constricted low bun. Enjolras watched as you shook your head easily, blowing it out. His brown eyes widened at the sight, a smile spreading across his lips. 

“I don’t know.”, you responded breathlessly. 

“I have an idea but we have to get you out of this dress.”, he breathed as used your shoulders to turn you around easily. 

You were wearing a thinner dress, thankfully. It was a dress specifically for summer. It was white with some lace, a sign of purity. Something you were about to tarnish. You stepped out of your shoes easily, leaving yourself in your stockings. Enjolras bent down and grabbed the bottom of your dress, beginning to lift it over your head. He laid it on the back of the chair that he used at his desk. You felt overly exposed in just your stockings and undergarments, your corset sucking in your waistline. 

“God, just look at you.”, he breathed.

You looked back at him, gaining just a glimpse of him as he came around the front of you. 

“Enjolras.”, you breathed.

“What? Simply stating the obvious. God.”, he breathed, beginning to palm the bulge in his pants.

You swallowed hard, your eyes immediately going to where his hands were. His brown eyes were fixed on you as he began to unbutton his pants, allowing them to fall to the floor. Your eyes widened as you saw the more prominent bulge of his rock, hard cock. You weren’t oblivious when it came to sex, but there were things you didn’t exactly know. You knew where children came from and how they were made. The act you were about to commit was how children came about. 

You opened your mouth, ready to speak when Enjolras spoke first.

“Finish undressing.”, he breathed. “Wanna….wanna watch you.”, he groaned as he undid his undergarments, allowing them to meet the same fate as his pants. 

Your eyes widened as you saw his cock spring free, hard, and erect just for you. It had to be for you, didn’t it? You gulped, bending down to slide your stockings off. 

“Um Enjolras….”, your voice breathed meekly.

“Yes?”

“I need help with my corset….”

He abandoned stroking himself for a moment, coming behind you, moving your hair to the side before he began undoing each string, feeling relief as you could breathe easier. 

“You know you don’t need this.”, he breathed.

“Why not? Men like little waists and bigger breasts, do they not? That’s what mother has always said.”

He sighed. “Most men….there’s nothing wrong with you as you are. You’re beautiful. Besides, do you want other men to look at you?”

Your face crinkled in confusion. You weren’t used to hearing compliments from men. Out in town, you were used to being asked for a quick lay or having men say indecorous things about you. Even though this was supposed to be strictly about sex, Enjolras managed to make you feel butterflies in your stomach with his compliments.

“Why would I not? I’ve yet to meet a man who gets my father’s approval or one who wants more than just sex.”

Enjolras was quiet again. “If it counts for anything, I would love to make you more than a one-night stand….if it wasn’t for this revolution.”

Your heart stopped in its tracks, your breathing instantly hitching. “You surely…surely don’t mean that.”

Enjolras reached the end of your corset, proving this was not his first time undoing one. Your corset fell to the floor before he reached down and picked it up, placing it with your dress. 

“I do….I just don’t feel as though your father would want you with a man who values a revolution and freedom for the French as much as I do.”, he breathed. 

You had watched your father and Enjolras interact, their rapport appeared to be superior to the other men. There was mutual respect between them. Your father respected Enjolras as a leader. He may have been younger, but your father thought he had bright ideas, intuitive for his age. Your father always complimented Enjolras when telling you and your mother about him.

“You’re passionate about it.”, you breathed easily.

“Very much so. People who have spilled their blood for France are living as beggars. Their children starving while a fat king sits on the throne, what’s there not to be passionate about?”, he breathed, you finally seeing the charismatic, caring side of him coming through. 

To be honest, it was very alluring when Enjolras talked about how passionate he was about the revolution. He was a very educated man, clear he had done his reading and research. There was a pause before he began to undo your bra, tossing it to the chair. The cool, summer night air drifted into the room, causing the curtain to move slightly, sending a chill down your spine, and causing your nipples to instantly grow hard. His hands wrapped around your waist, fingertips on your abdomen.

His fingertips drifted down to find the hem of your underwear, beginning to tug them down slightly. 

“Enjolras…..”

“Hmmm?”

You felt him slide your underwear down your legs, and you instinctively stepped out of them.

“Damn, you’re so—alluring.”, he breathed.

“You really think so?”

“I do, I really do……”

His hands moved from your waist, beginning to undo his button-up. You heard him toss his shirt and under shirt to the side. You felt him wrap his hands around your waist, one moving up to find your breast. You felt his cock becoming hard against you as he began playing with your nipple, taking it between his fingers. Your breathing hitched, trying to fight back the loud moan threatening to escape your lips.

“You can let it out.”, he whispered against your neck, placing another kiss on it.

You sighed, finally releasing the small hiccups of moans as he toyed with your nipples, pinching and flicking them between his fingers.

“Your moans are such a sweet sound in my ear.”, he breathed. 

He was met with another string of moans from you, his hard cock rubbing against the back of your thighs. He was very hard, causing you to moan softly. 

“Let’s move to the bed, amour.”

You fumbled trying to walk with weak legs to his bed. It was astounding the amount of power he already had over you. You easily climbed into the bed, feeling his eyes on you as he followed suit. He began kissing you—softly and slowly at first. His kisses were warm and sweet, everything you imagined them to be. There were soft smacks as you deepened the kiss, pulling him towards you. His beard was rough against your delicate skin. He was towering over you, running his hands through your soft hair. 

“Can I taste you?”, he breathed between kisses.

You abruptly interrupted the kisses. “Taste—taste me?”, you stammered.

“Yes….I’m sure you taste as sweet as you seem.”, he kissed you again, looking deep into your eyes. 

He inched his body down the bed, his fingers tracing your body as he reached your core. He looked up at you, again asking for your permission. You nodded easily, beginning to feel a little tingly presumably from the alcohol. His fingers ran up your thighs, tracing your entrance. A moan escaped your lips, your head falling back onto the pillow with a soft thud. Your inhibitions were slipping away and quickly at that. 

“Can I feel you?”

You nodded. “Mhmmm, please Enjolras…..”

He accepted your invitation, slipping two fingers inside you causing a gasp to elicit from your lips. You had never felt anything like this before—you had nothing to compare it to. His eyes were concentrated on you. Your back instantly began arching, allowing him to shove his fingers further inside of you. You gripped the sheets easily.

“Feel good, amour?”, he breathed, working his fingers in and out of your wet folds rhythmically. 

“So good, Enjolras.”, you moaned, your eyes fluttering shut. 

He spent a few more minutes, working his fingers in and out of you. He was making sure you were going to be prepared for him—for his length and width. You were so tight, having never been with a man before. Enjolras placed soft kisses on your thighs, causing soft moans and sighs to escape your lips. 

“Ready for me to taste you?”, he asked, suddenly. 

His own breathing was hitched at this point. You nodded feverishly, sighing once more. Enjolras was ready to hear your soft pleas.

“Please….”, you moaned softly. 

If it was anything like his fingers, you were in for a treat. Your soft ‘please’ was all it took for Enjolras to oblige your request. He parted your legs gently, laying down between your legs. His deep, brown eyes looked up at you a final time before you felt his rough, coarse beard between your legs. You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes again. His tongue traced your entrance, sending shock waves through your body. 

It lasted for a minute before his tongue entered your core, beginning to lick, suckle, and nibble you making you grip the sheets so hard your knuckles turned white. Enjolras seemed to notice, taking a moment to look up at you. Seeing how much you were enjoying it was only fueling him further. Unbeknownst to you, he had thought about you before. He saw the way you innocently walked in front of him, swaying your hips—whether it was intentional or not. There were a few nights he’d be alone in his room, frustrated and needing release. 

He knew exactly what to do. All he had to do was think of you. He would instantly unbuckle his pants, letting his cock spring free. He’d throw his head back and instantly fantasize about you—undressing you, admiring your beautiful body, tasting your sweet juices, taking you, and stripping you of your innocence. Taking your virginity while you moaned his name. He had thought about it a few times if he was being honest. 

But now, he was getting to experience it in reality. It was no longer his fantasy when he needed to come undone, to feel a little less stress. You moaned softly, the sweet sound continuing to fill his ears. His tongue encircled your clit, lapping at it easily. He noticed your grip tighten on the sheets. It was causing his cock to grow harder by the second, watching you come undone just by him tasting you. His cock was pressing hard against the bed, begging to be inside of you. 

His breathing almost immediately hitched when he thought about entering you for the first time. He could hardly wait. You felt the deep, aching feeling in the pit of your stomach growing. You didn’t know what an orgasm exactly entailed. You had heard it mentioned before, but what was the warning signs that it was near? Enjolras eyed you as he came up for a moment, his tongue abruptly leaving your heat. You were breathing hard, whimpering at the sudden loss of contact.

In the small amount of candlelight, you could see the glisten in his beard from how drenched you were.

“So—wet—just for me….”, Enjolras heaved, trying to catch his breath. 

“Wh—why did you stop?”, you asked, your chest heaving. 

Your brain felt overstimulated, trying to catch up with the events that had happened up to this point. Focus was out of the question except if it came to Enjolras. 

“Just to get a little breath, amour. Don’t worry, I can finish……but God, my dick is so hard for you, amour…..begging to enter you…..”

You swallowed hard as you watched him reach down for his hard, erect cock taking the length in his hands, beginning to stroke himself. Small moans fell from his lips, causing that hot, aching feeling to quickly return to your stomach. It was hard to say no to Enjolras when he was in the current state he was in. Your needs other than him inside of you were slipping away, your eyes pleading for him. 

“Please….”, you pleaded softly.

“Please what?”, Enjolras asked, stroking his cock, his eyes closing and head falling back just for a moment, just enough to drive your desire deeper. 

“Enter me…..”, you pleaded, desperation laced in your voice.

A smirk came across his lips, continuing to stroke himself. “But amour, I have no condoms……”

“Don’t—care…..”, you moaned softly. 

“If fate should serve us well, you won’t have to bare the burden of birthing my child.”, he leaned down, beginning to kiss you. Softly and slowly, just like before. 

The thought hit you like a ton of bricks. Your inhibitions may have been faltering, but there was no way you were prepared to bring a child into this world—especially without its father. It would be referred to as a bastard. No man would want you if you bared another man’s child. A dead one at that. It was very taboo for this time period. Your mother and father would be so ashamed. You could imagine what people in town would whisper about you. Enjolras continued to kiss you, quickly making those thoughts and fears melt away. Nothing else mattered at this moment—except for him.

“Ready to take me?”, he breathed, voice slightly raspy. 

All you could muster was a nod, consenting permission for him to ravish you.

He was towering over you, easily parting your thighs. Leaning down, he placed soft kisses on the inside of your thigh. Goosebumps began appearing all over your body as you felt his stubble against your soft, delicate skin. You let out a soft sigh, watching him come back up, positioning himself between your legs. You felt his cock brush your thighs, causing your eyes to widen. You immediately noticed how erect he was. 

“Just gonna get you used to my size first, okay?”

You nodded again, feeling sheepish for not being able to form a simple one-worded response. But Enjolras didn’t give you much time to ponder it before you felt the tip of his cock tracing your entrance. He watched for your reaction. You moaned softly, biting your lip. Your mind began to race, imagining how this would feel. You had no experience. Your heart felt like it was going to thump out of your chest. He continued to brush his tip against your entrance, seeming to intentionally tease you. It was as if he wanted you to beg for him to enter you. 

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to moan his name. He could tell you were holding back. 

“You’re holding back, amour.”, he breathed, adding pressure as he traced your entrance immediately causing your breathing to hitch. 

“Am—Am I?”, you choked out, desperate to moan his name.

He nodded before adding more pressure as he traced your entrance. “All you have to do is moan my name—just one time and I’ll enter you—”

“Enjolras….”, you moaned, cutting him off quickly. 

He smirked, hearing all he needed to before he traced your entrance one more time. It caught you off guard when he finally pushed his tip into you, causing you to gasp and grip the sheets. The sensation was so overwhelming and overstimulating to your body. You had never been with a man like this—you had never had sex with a man. 

“So tight—”, Enjolras groaned, attempting to slip into your pussy further. 

You swallowed hard, feeling him stretching out your tight, virgin pussy. Another moan fell off your lips, Enjolras taking the opportunity to push into you further. There was pleasure in the pain as your moan grew louder, sharper at the end as he was almost completely inside of you. 

“Just a little more.”, Enjolras encouraged, his hand brushing your cheek.

Your chest was heaving—your body trying to catch up with the thoughts racing through your brain. Enjolras noticed, brushing your hair out of your face. You were silently thankful it was a cool summer night. 

“Go ahead.”, your breath was raspy.

“Are you sure, amour?”, he asked.

He was almost completely inside of you but wasn’t moving. You could feel him pulsing inside of you.

You nodded quickly, lessening the grip on the bed sheets. You were slightly beginning to not feel like a fish out of water. You felt embarrassed knowing Enjolras was experienced when it came to sex. You were sure he had women who were better than you.

He steadied himself before pushing further inside, the feeling of him stretching you out turning into a burning sensation, however, it disappeared quickly. It was evident he had bottomed out. It was all over his face. All you could do was moan and pant as he went as far inside you as he could. 

“Shit—feels so good….”, he groaned as he began to slowly work his way in and out of you. 

You nodded, gripping the sheets easily. 

“Tell me how good it feels….”, his breath tickled your bare skin. 

“So—good Enjolras.”, you somehow managed to choke out. 

Another smile spread across his face. You could see the sweat beginning to form on his forehead. For once you were glad the night was cool, giving you all some relief from the steamy activities occurring in his room. He leaned down, beginning to kiss you as he thrust inside of you, tearing you apart at the seams. The burning had turned into pure bliss. The more he worked inside of you, the more the burning, aching feeling in the pit of your stomach grew. 

Your toes began to curl, and a long sigh fell from your lips. You were edging towards a release. Your legs were shaking, unintentionally as he thrust into you. With each thrust, Enjolras grunted, causing your insides to twist into a knot. Enjolras knew that look on your face—he had seen it before from other women but somehow, it was different with you. He wanted to continue to chase this desire he had. Would just one time be enough? It had to be. In the back of his mind, he knew tomorrow could very well be his last day.

His brown eyes fluttered shut as his thrusts grew longer and deeper, pulling you in. He was damned determined to make you orgasm. He wanted to feel you all over him—it was his dying wish, after all. 

“Enjo—Enjolras…”, you choked on your own words.

His brown eyes shot open, waiting for the rest of your words.

“Think I’m—going—to——”

“Going to what?”

“Have—an—oh! Oh—my God.”, your words were drowned out as a rush washed over your body. 

Your toes curled instantly, your hands gripping his shoulders. Your fingernails sinking into his shoulders caused him to moan. You could feel the blood rushing from your toes to your head, it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. You felt yourself contracting around him. Pure euphoria cascaded through your body. For once, all the intrusive, worrisome thoughts had dissipated. Through hazy, groggy eyes you looked up at Enjolras. 

“Oh—feels so good on my dick….can’t wait to make a mess all inside you, amour….”, he grunted, his thrust soon becoming sloppy. 

You nodded lazily, resting your head on his pillow. He gripped your thighs, raising your hips up so he could get better angles and leverage. Just seeing you spent, laying in front of him, and letting him sex you like this was driving him towards his release hard and fast. He could feel himself beginning to lose this uphill battle. His dick was so hard he couldn’t stand it, thankful you at least had released on him. 

“Please—make a mess of me Enjolras.”, you breathed.

He smirked, your words marking your fate. 

“Oh—amour, here it comes.”, he warned through a grunt as his hips stuttered, his grip on your hips tightening.

His cock began pulsing inside of you. Your purity was over. 

Your eyes closed as you felt his seed filling you full, his breathing labored as he tried to catch his breath. How could a man like Enjolras make you forget all your promises and morals in a matter of a few hours? You felt him pulse inside of you a few more times before he felt satisfied enough to pull out. You cried out, missing him inside of you and making you feel full. 

He ran a hand through your hair. “I have one last request, amour.”

“What—is—it, Enjolras?”, you ask in a pitiful, pathetic tone. 

“Can you stand up for me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Can you stand for me?”, he repeated more firmly. 

Enjolras knew this was going to be a lot to ask of you, especially since he had just made a complete mess of you. Part of you wondered how you were going to even lift yourself off the bed, much less stand. Enjolras felt his dick becoming hard again, just watching your innocent, pathetic attempt at obliging his request. You grunted softly, heaving yourself up from the bed, your head spinning in circles endlessly. Enjolras extended his hand, helping you sit up.

You felt some of his seed running out of you, but you were doing your best to ignore it. The only other thought your brain could register was the amount was a lot—more than you had expected. Your legs were weak, threatening to give out at any second. You took a deep breath, praying you could hold yourself up as long as he wanted you to. 

“Just turn around and lean on the bed, amour. Hands behind your back.”

His words puzzled you. 

“Hands behind my back?”

“Mhmmm.”, he hummed.

His hands were reaching for something. You felt his seed mixed with your own release seeping down your legs, causing you to feel slightly embarrassed. Your cheeks were growing hot, the words you wanted to say catching in your throat. 

“Look what a mess we made. What a naughty girl you’ve been. What would your father think?”

Your breathing caught again as his hands traced your hips and lower back, helping bend you on over the bed. You felt his fingers trace your wrists, the next sensation becoming the one to throw you off. You felt a soft, velvet fabric. The dots were finally connected in your brain. You felt him tie the soft fabric around your wrists—your mind thinking about his handkerchief immediately. His fingers left your wrists, leaving your hands bound together behind your back. 

“Now,”, Enjolras breathed against your neck. “I’m going to spank you—discipline you for how naughty you’ve been. And I want you to count each one, understand amour?”

You nodded, gritting your teeth in preparation for the first hit. 

“Good girl. Maybe you can redeem yourself.”, he rubbed the globe of your right backside.

He could admire them much easier with no dress in the way.

His hand left your backside, and you held your breath as you waited for what was to come. Your face was pressed into the bed. 

“Alright, let’s start counting. Ready, amour?”

You nodded breathlessly, your mouth going completely dry. 

“Perfect.”

Even though you had given him permission to start, you weren’t prepared for the sudden, abrupt impact of his hand against your skin. You yelped with the first spanking to your right backside, your throat sore and your face hot. 

“Un.”, you choked out in French. 

You closed your eyes, bracing for impact again. Enjolras sent another smack to your left backside, causing you to jolt.

“Deux.”

“A little louder, amour.”

That was all the advice he mustered up for you as a third strike came to your backside. 

“Trois.”

Your voice was hoarse, you were trying to find your voice. The vulnerability was coursing through you, no one else had seen this side of you. Maybe Enjolras had fed you sweet lies tonight, but nevertheless, he had a spell on you. He just had some power over you. There was beginning to be a numb stinging to your backside, making it less painful with each spanking. You felt his thick, bare hand caress over your backsides. During this, spankings four and five occurred.

Another smack. Pain melting away into pleasure by this point. 

“Six.”

“Maybe you’re not such a naughty girl, after all.”, he hummed, rubbing the tingling, burning spot on your backside.

A small laugh escaped your throat. Should you go over the list of things that made you a naughty girl? For one, you flirted with your dad’s leader. Two, you drank tonight. Women didn’t drink. It was unheard of. It was very unbecoming of you. Three, you had premarital sex with Enjolras. There could be grave consequences for your actions. But you were doing your best to not think about that right now.

The seventh smack to your backside was harsher, probably a result of your laughing, causing it to cease very quickly. 

“Se—pt.”, you choked, this number broken. 

More of your all’s mess cascading down your legs, them beginning to shake. Laying down sounded so good right now.

“H-how ma—many more?”, you moaned out. 

“Three, unless you’re naughty and laugh again….”, he breathed.

You nodded, closing your eyes. Another smack to your backside. He was now giving you longer intervals in between them, teasing you. 

“Huit.”

You tried to pull your arms in front of you, but the piece of fabric didn’t budge, stalling your arms in their current state. All you wanted to do was rest your arms in front of you, and become close to dozing off as he finished. 

“Not yet, amour.”

SMACK. This brought you out of your stupor rather quickly. 

“Neuf.”

Your response was softer. 

“One last one.”

Your legs were beginning to buckle, you feared they’d give out before he finished and send you crashing into the floor. 

You nodded. This was the last one. If you could just make it through this last one. 

SMACK. 

“Dix….”, you choked out, legs caving before Enjolras grabbed your shoulders easily.

His arms were strong enough to support your weight, while he took his free hand, unknotting his handkerchief making it look so easy. 

“So good, amour. You did so, good.”, he breathed, placing a kiss on your neck. 

He could see in your eyes that you were caught in a state of limbo—between euphoria and facing the reality of what you both had done. 

“Help me get my clothes?”, you asked softly. 

“You’re in no shape to go home.”

“My mother has to be worried about me.”

“She may be—but you can’t go home like this. I’ll help you in bed and just sleep for a bit, amour.”

You debated his offer, softly humming for a few moments. “Are you going to sleep?”

“Probably not, but I’ll wake you before your father and the other men wake up.”

The way your legs felt, you knew Enjolras was right. But what would you tell your mother? Those thoughts couldn’t be processed right now. 

“Okay.”, you said softly. 

He nodded, helping you up in bed, pulling the covers over you. You yawned easily, your glossy eyes looking up at him as he bent down and kissed your head. His brown eyes were watery—or were you seeing things?

“Sleep well, amour.”

He brushed his thick fingers over your forehead, moving the stray hair out of your face. You nodded softly, drifting off to sleep. Little did you know, Enjolras stayed up all night long, watching you sleep in complete silence. He studied his maps, all his plans only breaking every few minutes to look at you, making sure you were still resting. Part of him began to feel guilty thinking of all the results that could come from his actions. 

He had wanted a normal life—find a woman, settle down, and have a few kids. But the revolution changed those plans for him. He couldn’t sit by and let this go on any longer. What was the point in bringing children into this kind of world? That’s how he rationalized it. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t mourn the life he would never have the chance to have. He’d love to have it with you, but he knew that could never be. Your father would never agree to that. You were too good for the likes of him. 

The sun began to rise on the horizon, causing the blanket of darkness to lift. Enjolras blew out the candle before coming over to kiss your forehead, hoping to bring you out of your slumber easily. 

“Is it morning?”, you asked softly, stretching.

“It is amour. I’ll get your clothes.”

You nodded, sitting up. You rubbed your eyes quickly, hoping to get a good glance of Enjolras. This could be the last time you see him alive. The thought made you sick to your stomach. Enjolras took a deep breath as he helped you get dressed, taking his last opportunity to breathe in your beautiful body. He was not an emotional man, but he was feeling something he had never felt before. It felt like a dream that he finally was able to become one with you, but not under the circumstances he had.

“I’ll lead you outside.”, he took your hand easily.

You looked down at your hands before looking back up at him. He led you down the same set of stairs you all had come up last night. You’d give anything to get that night back, to get a chance to do it over again. But that was impossible. No one was out on the street as he opened the door to the pub, the warm morning summer breeze meeting you. 

You almost could feel tears beginning to pool in your eyes, cursing them back quickly. You had no right to cry over a man you had shared one night with. You all stared at each other, looking into each other’s eyes. His hand was still in yours, you both trying to find the right words to say. 

“See you later?”, you asked easily. 

“See you later, amour.”, he smiled bittersweetly.

Your hands finally broke apart, you nodding as he turned to back inside.

He turned to view you one more time, watching you walk away. That was the hardest part. It was different with you. The other women could leave, it didn’t bother him. He hadn’t given them a second look. There was something different with you, or was he just mourning what is and what will never be? He was choking back tears, quickly reminding himself he had to get it together. There was a revolution to start today. 

——————————————————————————————————————

Your mother asked you a million questions once you got home, doing your best to quietly sneak in. You had failed miserably. Giving her very generic answers, she finally gave up. She asked if you had been with a man to which you responded ‘no’. A mother’s intuition never seemed to be wrong. She proceeded to tell you how much she had worried about you, how little sleep she had gotten. You felt guilty about causing her to worry, but didn’t regret the night you had spent with Enjolras. 

As the day progressed, you tried to take your mind off things and help your mother with the chores around the house. She was nervous, afraid your father wasn’t going to make it back home. You were nervous, afraid Enjolras was going to die today. You tried to reassure her while trying to reassure yourself. You almost dropped dinner, feeling clumsy. All you could think about was your parting glance with Enjolras, thinking you may never see him again.

“Dear, are you alright?”, your mother asked you.

“Fine, mother. I’m sorry. Just worried about father.”, you responded.

Part of it wasn’t a lie. You had just left out Enjolras. 

She nodded, placing a hand on yours. “Me too, dear.”

As the day turned into night, you all had barely eaten any dinner. You were waiting for news—anything to let you know your dad or Enjolras was alive. Silence lay between you both as you sat by candlelight. This time last night, you were with him. You closed your eyes, fighting back the urge to cry. It was silly to feel like this over a man you had for one night, wasn’t it?

A defeated knock came to your door, jarring you and your mother out of any thoughts. You looked at one another before rising from your chairs, quietly asking the other who was going to answer the door. Quietly, you decided you would be the one to get the news firsthand. If it was your dad, you could ask him about Enjolras. Your hand began trembling as you placed it on the knob, turning it. Your eyes widened, seeing Enjolras standing there.

He had a somber expression on his face, covered in soot and dirt, his brown eyes were almost the only thing visible. His white shirt was filthy. Part of you wanted to cry from happiness, the other worried as to why he was here at your doorstep.

His name threatened to fall from your lips.

“L/N residence?”, he asked.

Your mother nodded behind you. 

“My name is Enjolras.”, he began, mouth dry. “I regret to inform you that your husband didn’t make it.”

All you remember hearing was the shrill cry from your mother before she collapsed in your arms. Tears pricked up in your eyes. All he could do was look at you, feeling defeated. He was supposed to die. Not the other men, especially not your father. He wanted so badly to take you in his arms and comfort you and tell you everything would be okay. He wanted to tell you about the last few moments of your father’s life. 

“Did he suffer?”, your mother asked through tears, clearly distraught.

“No, it was quick.”, Enjolras closed his eyes, preparing to hear your mother cry again. 

You eyed him easily through tear-stained eyes. Your pain was quickly turning to anger, you immediately began to blame him in your head.

“If you’d let me come in, I could tell you about the last few moments of his life.”

“No—,”, your tone started out harshly. “No, please just leave. Thank you, Enjolras but my mother and I need time to process this.”

Your tone ended softly. He was surprised by this change in you. He didn’t argue or with your reasoning, turning to leave. It killed him to not be able to comfort you, but he understood you needed time to process this. You were caught between a rock and hard place—thankful Enjolras was alive but distraught your father was dead. That was the last memory you had of Enjolras in weeks. 

The days had been darker since your father had passed. You had been sick in bed, with terrible stomach pain and aches. Racked with nausea and vomiting, your mother worried that you had come down with cholera. She sat on the edge of your bed, brushing through your hair. It was early morning and you had finished vomiting as she placed a cool cloth on your forehead. It had been seven weeks since you had seen or heard from Enjolras. 

“I can’t lose you.”, your mother sighed.

“Mother, I’m sure it’s just something I ate.”

“For four weeks now? I will send for the apothecary.”, she got up, leaving the room. 

You sighed, closing your eyes. That’s when the feeling hit you like a ton of bricks—you had slept with Enjolras seven weeks ago. Your mouth became dry, beginning to think about your symptoms. Your vomiting was always in the morning. Not to mention, you had missed your monthly. You felt exhausted all the time, breasts began to feel sore. All of it was adding up, beginning to make sense. 

Fate had not served you well, it appeared you were with child.

“The apothecary should be here this evening.”, your mom sat down on your bed, holding your hand. 

You nodded numbly. 

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn imagine #joseph x reader #enjolras x reader #enjolras x fem!reader #enjolras x y/n

[keeponquinning]

I've been seeing the other Enjolras audio making the rounds in my activity so ironic I have this to post now!

Ironically I had tried to use actual Joseph as Enjolras but.... the AI doesn't know what to do with itself when I do and makes it sound NOT Enjolras or Joseph.

So this??? done with audio from Fallon.

I don't even know man. Enjolras is cursed. So let's pretend.

#— words come audios #bbc enjolras #enjolras x reader #enjolras x you #enjolras x y/n #joseph quinn

[stardancerluv]

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

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction #bbc!enjolras #bbc les mis #bbc! enjolras x fem!reader #enjolras #enjolras fanfiction #enjolras imagine #enjolras x reader #enjolras x you #enjolras x y/n #enjolras smut #enjolras fluff #enjolras angst #les miserables #bbc les miserables #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn #a time to love and to fight #part 26

[babybluebex]

dark!eddie or enjolras... which do yall want first?

#bex says #dark!eddie munson #dark!eddie munson x reader #enjolras #enjolras x reader #i think i know the answer #but i'm gonna pose it anyway

[oldbookist]

cherubs and cherubim

pairing: enjolras x fem!reader

rating: gen

tags: canon compliant

summary: As a grisette living in the Latin Quarter, you’re used to short-lived dalliances with wealthy students…until a certain revolutionary catches your eye. Things go exactly as you might expect. (Or not.)

The street was crowded with a throng of students as you walked home to your flat on the rue Saint-Jean-de-Beauvais. It was one of the hazards of living so close to the university, although you had to admit the proximity of so many good-looking Parisian students more than made up for the inconveniences. After moving to Paris you started working in a dressmaker’s shop to pay the bills, adding embellishments to gowns made for wealthier ladies, but gifts and dinners from students with generous incomes helped to maintain a more fashionable lifestyle. 

The crowd blocking your path was surrounding something. Curious, you pushed your way in to see what the fuss was about. 

“The prime minister has been replaced with the prince de Polignac,” cried the speaker at the center of the crowd. “This regime has no interest in moderation. How long until the rest of our meager gains are stripped away?”

Just another street orator, you thought with annoyance. But then you saw him. 

He looked like a wingless angel. His chiseled features might have been carved out of marble; he looked like he belonged in the Louvre, not a dirty street corner. His perfect curls billowed in the wind as he spoke, and you found yourself nodding along to every word he said as though entranced. You felt a sudden lightness in your chest like seeing the sun rise in the morning, and a desire to possess that beauty, to have him as your own, dug its painful claws into your heart. 

In short, you were screwed. 

As the crowd began to disperse after the speech, you mustered up the courage to try to speak to him. Get ahold of yourself, you scolded. It wasn’t as though you were blushingly inexperienced, and you’d been called one of the most beautiful women in the Quartier Latin by people who ought to know. Still, you felt close to fainting as you approached him. 

When you reached him he was conversing with two other men, and god, he was somehow even better looking up close. 

You smiled, trying to hide the nervousness you felt. “You speak very well, monsieur,” you said. 

He inclined his head. “Thank you,” he said gravely, then turned away. 

His shorter friend grinned. “You are interested in politics, mademoiselle?”

“I may be persuaded to be,” you replied cheekily, “Monsieur…?”

“Courfeyrac,” he said, taking your hand and kissing it. You giggled. Courfeyrac was handsome, but not nearly as much so as his friend. (Though much more fashionably dressed, you thought.) “And you, mademoiselle?”

“Y/N,” you replied. 

“Y/N,” he repeated, putting a hand to his heart. “The very word sounds like music.”

Poor Courfeyrac, you thought, that luck should place him next to such incomparable beauty. You felt certain you would have given him a chance otherwise, yet you could hardly tear your eyes away from the statuesque man beside him. 

Courfeyrac noticed where you were looking and added, “These incorrigible brutes are Messieurs Enjolras and Combeferre, respectively. He looked at them pointedly. “My apologies for their rude behavior.”

“Enjolras,” you commented, “what a charming name.” But Enjolras appeared entirely preoccupied with whatever his other friend, Combeferre, was whispering in his ear. 

You were nonplussed. His utter lack of reaction was strange, to say the least. Perhaps he was just shy? The way he avoided your gaze and stared at the ground would certainly seem to indicate that. 

You turned back to Courfeyrac. “Do all of you come here often?”

“Yes, although I can’t tell you exactly when, I’m afraid.”

“Do you think I’m a spy?” You pretended to be offended. 

“If you are, you’re the prettiest police spy I’ve been in trouble with,” he said with a devilish grin. 

It was evident you would get nowhere with Enjolras with his friends around. But at least you knew his name, and that there was a chance you might see him again here. 

“Well, then. Until next time, messieurs.” You smiled brightly. 

~

A week had passed, and though you hurried home every day from the shop hoping to catch a glimpse of him, there had been no sign of Enjolras or his friends. You were beginning to ponder actually going by the law school (was he a law student?) to catch him when a familiar-looking student crossed the street to the wine shop in front of you. It was Enjolras’s other friend—Combeferre, you recalled. 

You hurried after him, not caring about the indignity of the situation. 

“Excuse me, monsieur,” you called. 

He turned around, surprised. 

“You are Monsieur Combeferre, yes? I believe we met last week.” 

“Yes, I remember.” He looked at you expectantly. 

“I’m looking for your friend,” you said, then immediately winced at how foolish you sounded. 

“Courfeyrac? I don’t know where he is.”

“No, Enjolras.”

“Enjolras?” He smiled in a manner that seemed gently mocking. “What business do you have with Enjolras?” 

“My own,” you retorted. 

“No matter,” he said coolly. “I can guess.”

You frowned. “I just want to know where I can find him, that’s all.”

“He won’t be interested,” he said flatly. 

You felt your face heat up. “And how do you know? Is he attached?” 

“No.”

“Then—“

“Furthermore, I’m not in the habit of revealing his whereabouts to strangers.”

You folded your arms crossly. “Me? How could I possibly be dangerous?”

He looked at you coldly over his spectacles. “Perhaps you are not aware of the current political situation. However, I can assure you it would be imprudent for me to tell you when Gisquet, our esteemed préfet de police, has lately deemed it necessary to raid private gatherings of citizens.”

Now you were really annoyed. “You cannot actually believe I’m a spy.”

Combeferre shrugged. “Not really.”

“Then why—”

“I told you. He won’t be interested.”

“I mean no harm to him, honestly,” you said, despondent. “You needn’t be so cold towards me.”

He scoffed. “I’m doing you a kindness.”

“A kindness!” You clasped your hands. "Are you not without pity for love?"

Combeferre raised his eyes towards the heavens.

"You believe you love him?"

"If I didn't, would I be standing here humiliating myself? You cannot tell me he's not absolutely the most brilliant, most beautiful man you've ever met."

"He is," Combeferre said with amusement.

"Then what, if he's not attached? Why won't he be interested? Is there something wrong with me? I don't understand."

He softened slightly. "Mademoiselle, it is no fault of your own that does not recommend you. But I can promise you he's not what you're looking for."

"Let me find that out for myself," you said fiercely. "You don't know what I want.

Combeferre regarded you with impassive percipience. "You are remarkably persistent," he said finally. “But I will not help you.”

At that moment, the door to the wine shop opened. A rather balding man walked out. “Combeferre!”

At second glance, the man seemed younger than his thinning hair suggested, but he had an overall appearance of misfortune, as his coat was wearing out badly and his shoes were scuffed. Combeferre recognized him. “Ah, Bossuet, good afternoon.” 

“I was waiting for you. My apologies, I didn’t know you had a lady friend with you today.” He inclined his head to you. You huffed. The very idea of being with this obnoxious, arrogant pedant. Bossuet did not seem to notice.

Combeferre rolled his eyes. “She is not. She is looking for Enjolras.”

“Enjolras?" Bossuet scratched his head. "I saw him not half an hour ago in that little café on the rue des Anglais.” 

Combeferre gave Bossuet a disbelieving look. 

You smirked triumphantly. “Thank you!” Victorious at last, you dashed off.

It was a short walk to the rue des Anglais, but you prayed he would still be there by the time you made it. Admittedly, you hadn’t really thought this out. You were glad you were wearing one of your favorite bonnets, and had spent extra time arranging your hair that morning. What were you going to say to him? You decided it didn’t matter. All you needed was to see him again. And surely, he just needed to see you again too. 

As you approached the café, a familiar head of blonde hair ducked through the door. 

Your heart skipped a beat. It was him. You had almost missed him—but this was perfect, you could make it appear as though you were just casually passing by. 

If anything, he seemed even more beautiful than before. He was tall and fair like a gallant knight in a fairytale. His golden curls framed the sweetly delicate features of his face, with long lashes hiding his downcast eyes and rosy lips you desired nothing more than to kiss.

He seemed absorbed in thought, but as you approached from the opposite direction, you “accidentally” dropped your reticule directly in front of him. 

After a moment of hesitation, he bent down and picked it up. Your hands brushed as he handed it to you. The slight touch sent your heart pounding, but you tried to maintain your confident exterior. 

“Thank you,” you said, and gave him your most winning smile. 

He nodded. And continued on his way. 

“Wait,” you called, trying not to sound too desperate. “Have we met before, monsieur?”

He stopped and briefly looked over you with his intense blue eyes. “I…do not know, mademoiselle.”

So he did not remember you at all? You felt a little crushed. “Yes,” you continued valiantly, “I heard you speak last week. I have never heard anything like it.”

“I am glad to hear it,” he said. “The Republic will need many allies.”

He was talking to you, at least. “I don’t think I’ll be much help,” you replied with a laugh. “Since I can’t fight or fire a gun. Does the Republic need a seamstress?”

“Of course,” he said earnestly. “Women may be helpful in different ways—sewing, doctoring, mothering. All citizens should be able to contribute their abilities to the fatherland.”

What a passionate man, you thought. You liked that. Passionate, yet so cold, like stone. His strange and reserved nature compelled you, something about him was entirely unlike any man you'd ever met. You yearned to possess him.

With sudden boldness, you touched his arm. “Then I will be happy so long as I can be useful to you, monsieur.” You batted your lashes at him slowly in your charming manner that had never failed to ensnare a man before. Surely he could not mistake your intentions now.

His gaze turned forbidding. His cold, pale eyes turned your insides to ice, and you instinctively took a step back. There was a severe and dreadful fierceness to him. That terrible glance seemed to reveal a profound and unfathomable abyss, and suddenly, you found yourself frightened of falling into it. 

An angel, you had thought, and now you knew you were right—a mighty angel of the flaming sword, divine and terrifying.

You averted your eyes, stunned, as though blinded by harsh sunlight. When you looked up he was gone. 

As you slowly walked home to the rue Saint-Jean-de-Beauvais, you considered that there might be a lesson to be learned here. Or not.

#enjolras #enjolras x reader #les mis #canon compliant