#javert x reader

[bisexualdisaster531]

Rough Evening

Wow, so I really did this, and am publishing it on the internet. Well, I hope no one interviewing me for a job finds this😐 or I will be broke forever hahaha

Anywayssssss, this is pure porn. I saw Les Mis in London a few weeks ago and Bradley Jaden was playing Javert and well...y'all all I can say is that I am down HORRENDOUS because I mean, have you HEARD him(ok and seen him) and he also was an excellent actor and I felt actual sympathy for Javert for honestly the first time and cried like 6x watching(although the entire cast honestly KILLED IT and it was just so amazing i cannot even begin to describe it-) ok I'll actually stop procrastinating and post the damn story. Please do not read if you are under the age of consent, this is NSFW and inappropriate:)

Rough Evening

Pairing: Javert/Reader or OC

Warnings: Rough sex, spanking, fingering, oral sex(f receiving), dirty talk, degradation, unprotected sex, a bit of fluff at the end.

He was barely through the door when he pulled her towards him and kissed her. He roughly pulled and tugged at her dress until she removed it, and now he's pinning her against a wall, exploring her with lips, tongue, and teeth.

This is so unlike anything Javert has done in their 3 months of marriage. He has kissed her and made love to her, but every time, he was slow, deliberate, and at times, tender. He has never been so rough with her, and a thrill runs through her as he fondles her.  

The rough pads of his fingers glide over her nipples, and one hand drops to between her legs as she moans. His cock is achingly hard against her back, and she arches back against him as he pushes the last remaining bit of clothing to the ground. 

He pushes her upper back, and she falls onto the bed. He tugs her right back to the edge though, and he hums approvingly. 

He has never slipped inside her so fast, and his sharp laugh when he realizes she likes the way he’s treating her only makes her shudder around him. 

“You’re so wet,” he taunts her, fingers slipping between her legs to stroke her clit. “Such a slut, aren't you.”

She is horrified at the thrill that runs through her, and even more so by the way she is still so wet for him. She should slap him, or at least stop arching back against him, she thinks.  

“You like that?” Javert chuckles in her ear as he thrusts harder into her. 

“N-no,” she protests, but he knows as well as she does that she's attempting to hide what she's only just discovered herself. 

“Ohhh, you don’t? You don’t mean to tell me that it doesn’t make you soaking wet when I call you a slut? When I do this?” He spanks her once, and when she moans, he laughs. “Liar." 

He’s never talked to her like this before, not ever. In fact, he’s almost always been very quiet, her Javert. When he does talk, it's to reassure her or ask her something. Sometimes he swears when he comes. But this is new.

She’s so close, when he abruptly pulls out of her and finishes all over her buttocks. 

“I didn't come,” is all she can think of to say, as he rebuttons his pants. Javert hums with satisfaction as he observes his handiwork, before gently wiping it away with a soft cloth. She moves to stand up, but he stops her. 

“Oh, we’re not done.” He has a dangerous edge to his voice. “I have some questions for you, and you’re going to stay right there while you answer."

She can’t find the voice to answer him, but she nods, and shivers as he runs a finger along her spine. He hums approvingly, and she feels the fabric of his pants brush against the back of her thighs. 

“You like it when I fuck you, don’t you?” He runs his hands along her shoulders.

“Yes.”

“Do you really think that’s any way to properly address me?” His voice drops slightly. “Next time, you should use your manners, and answer again before I have to punish you.”

She’s not sure where Javert is taking this, but if his tone is anything to go by, it’s probably something that will turn her on.

“You also understand that I want you to enjoy this, don't you?” 

“Yes sir.” She replies softly, but in truth, it surprises her. He’d always made sure that she was comfortable, yes, but she hadn’t equated that to enjoyment until now. 

“Did you like when I was rough with you tonight?” His tone is different, like he’s not sure about the answer she’s going to give him. 

“I probably shouldn’t have,” she admits. “But I really did.”

He spanks her once, and she jumps, but relaxes as he strokes the stinging flesh.

“Maybe not,” he concedes. “But, I am not particularly worried about how you should or should not feel about this. You feel what you feel. If you do not like it, I will not do it again, but if you did, I would like to continue.”

“Please continue,” she finds herself asking, her voice barely above a whisper. 

She is still so wet when he brushes a finger along her cunt. She waits with anticipation as his finger hovers over her clit, but he does not touch her. She huffs a sigh, and he withdraws his fingers right away, and spanks her twice. 

“You ought to be more patient,” he scolds, and rolls her over, taking a moment to look over her body. 

“Move up to the top of the bed, and I’ll think about touching you,” he instructs, and she doesn’t hesitate to do exactly what he says. In the 5 times they’ve been together, he has always made her finish.

“Mmm, look how wet you are,” he pushes her legs apart. “I should’ve guessed you’d like to be fucked like the slut you are.”

She turns her head to the side and moans when he takes a nipple into his mouth. 

“If I put my fingers between your legs would you drip all over my hand?”

She can’t bring herself to answer him, but she moans again.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Instead of doing what he usually does, and pushing his hand in between her legs, he moves down to right between her legs, and pushes them up over his shoulders. “Ohh, you certainly are, aren’t you? Slut,” he adds, slapping her inner thigh enough that she moans.

Javert spreads her folds with his thumbs, and licks her before she can shut her legs.

“Oh, you are a wet little thing, aren’t you.” He is not asking her, which relieves her because she doesn’t think she could talk right then if she wanted to.

She feels him smirk as she moans. He flicks his tongue over her clit again, and laughs against her when she reaches down. She herself doesn’t even know if she intends to push him away or tug him closer.

"You like that?” He mouths at her cunt between sentences, sucking and kissing the tender flesh. She moans a broken cry of his name and her entire body squirms against him. He presses two fingers inside her pussy, and her hips twitch towards his mouth. She feels him smirk against her as he crooks his fingers mercilessly. 

He has never done anything quite so dirty as what he’s doing right now. She’s never heard of a man putting his mouth on a woman like that, but as she moans and squirms under Javert’s tongue, she wishes he’d never stop. He draws circles and patterns with his tongue, all while his fingers move inside her.

Javert works her body meticulously to an orgasm, building her up slowly and steadily until she finds release on his hands and mouth. He hums approvingly against her cunt, before pulling away, his eyes taking her in. 

He doesn't say anything, but begins to settle them both into bed. She takes the nightdress he offers her, and crawls beneath the thick blankets that cover his bed. She watches him curiously as he undresses. Javert's long, sharp lines are only more pronounced without his imposing uniform. 

He catches her staring, but says nothing, only continues to change his clothes. Despite what he's just done to her, the still unmarried, virgin girl inside her is ashamed to be caught looking at her husband in such a way. 

As he moves into bed beside her, she hesitantly moves closer to him, seeking not only his warmth, but also affection. Javert has never denied her any such affection in their bed, and she has no reason to think that he will reject her. Yet, she does hesitate before reaching out and placing a palm on his chest.  

He looks startled, but moves closer to let her rest her head on his chest. 

"Are you quite all right?" He says softly. 

She nods. "I-I don't understand why I liked that so much."

He hums in acknowledgement, and begins to stroke the soft skin of her arm with his thumb. "Do you need to know?"

"I suppose not. Why did you do it?" 

"I was frustrated, I suppose. That was why I was initially so rough, and realizing you liked it was just fuel to the fire," he reflects quietly. Javert is not usually the sort of man to reflect aloud on his own feelings, but something is different tonight.  

"I liked what you did with your mouth," she says shyly. 

“Mhm, I could tell.” He hides a small smirk as she tilts her head up to look at him.

"Go to sleep," he instructs her, kissing her forehead softly. "I'll be gone when you wake up."

#javert x reader #javert x oc #i am going to hell #cannot believe i am typing these tags in wow #oops my finger slipped

[cosmicstarlatte]

If we're being thirsty tonight: getting used by the brothers right before class so you have to go out completely stuffed full of demon nut. You're doing a good job of keeping it all in until someone teasingly smacks your ass too hard.

nsfw mdni // poly (skirt wearing) mc, use of 'slut', mc gets recorded, humiliation, messy headcanon I suppose lol

---

when you simultaneously love the humiliation but feel a sense of pride too by having taken all of them 😩

but also;;; me thinking of mc wearing a skirt and Solomon being the one to smack your ass, he's disappointed he couldn't get to you first. perhaps he will wait til later.

he does note, however, your disappointment.

"mmm don't tell me the brothers left you unsatisfied? Or are you just that much of a cock hungry slut?"

imagine he takes you right back out of class to the nearest restroom and records you cleaning yourself up from the brothers mess,

"Tell them why you're cleaning yourself up"

"Mm...need your cum...p-please. I n-need it."

once you're all cleaned up of course he takes care of you, he makes sure to send a close up of your messy filled hole to them and your fucked out face.

he ends the video with, "now that's how you fuck someone."

#can u guys tell I'm absolutely SICK and UNWELL tonight #obey me #obey me smut #obey me headcanons #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon x you #◇˖・ﾟ— › cosmic obey me . ⊹ #✩ — the star: javert!

[pianocat939]

Random Ideas of Yan Les Miserables Characters

Cursed ideas I thought of since I'm in this musical for my school's drama

If people like it, I might add more..I'm really interested in Marius.

Tw: mention of murder, kidnapping, Marius is a little freak and breaks into your home, manipulation, Eponine literally hates her life so much

(Know that this won't follow the entire plot of the book/musical. Nor do the ages of these characters- Ex. Javert is not an old geezer)

(MC/Reader is in some ways Cosette I suppose- not following her complete character though)

Marius

Type: Obssessive + Protective

The definition of sweet. Ever since he met you, he's been wanting to hold you in his arms and gently kiss you. His mind is filled with thoughts of you- just you. At night, he writes in a journal about his undying love and how no one else could make him feel this way.

If you deny his love for too long, he'll take drastic actions: when you're sleeping in your bed at night he'll slide in next to you to give snuggles and kisses- he just can't contain his yearning anymore! He also leaves gifts and letters on your window sill, a nice present for you to look at when you're all sad and need comfort! Or really, you could just come to him for comfort...

That being said, when he goes to fight the monarchs the entire time he thinks about protecting you, and nothing else. He's crazy when he fights to go absolutely batshit feral to keep you safe- and to ensure he'll be the one to return to you; that he'll be the only one confessing his love.

If there's another suitor, he'll first try to get you to love him. If that doesn't work, he won't hesitate to kill them.

He actually is quite possessive, he just doesn't show it as much.

Javert

Type: Possessive + Violent

(He is not an old geezer in this-)

Oh wow, out of all the people you decided to garner the attention of- it decided to be his. At first, he tries to deny his adoration for you but comes to a realization when he witnesses you interacting with someone else. He HATES it when you talk with someone that isn't him. You should only talk to him, you should only love him! He's your true love, your future spouse!

At first, he'll try to be normal and court you, but if you deny...Hell breaks loose. He'll kidnap you without hesitation, saying you're a criminal and need to be taken to prison under the laws of the government- only for the prison to be his home. There, you'll stay as his spouse. Don't worry about the world outside, just think about loving your rightful husband!

I wouldn't be surprised if he tries to use marriage as a way to tie himself with you. Oh and-

He'll kill anyone who tries to help you escape or if you try to talk to anyone else.

Eponine

Type: Manipulative + Stalker

Instead of being in love with Marius, she's in love with you! If Marius is also in love with you, she'll try to push him away by manipulating both you and him. For example, with you, she'll try to say how much of a fool Marius can be at times and how he isn't fit for a role as husband. With him, she'll try to tell him that you're already in love with someone else or that you're in a relationship with someone else.

All her life she hasn't been gifted a single good fortune- shouldn't she get a happily ever after too?

If you deny her, or just simply don't notice her all that much she'll follow you around. She makes sure no one tries to court you and that she has a good chance of obtaining your love. Despite being poor, she's learned to be good at one thing- observing. She can memorize any piece of information of you and remember it for years- a true sign of love, no?

Please, just love her! She can't stand this suffering any longer! She doesn't wish to be the daughter of hated innkeepers', she wants to be known as the lover of someone so beautiful and etheral- which is you!

——————————————————

Ngl, Marius being all soft and sweet is really indulgent of me-

- Celina

#les miserables #les mis #marius pontmercy #marius #eponine #javert #musical #yandere les mis #yandere #yandere 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

[autistic-coded-tournament]

current submitted characters

will be updated as submissions come through.

(long post - list under the cut)

Twilight Sparkle - My Little Pony

Beth Tezuka - Bravest Warriors

Arnold Rimmer - Red Dwarf

The Captain - BBC Ghosts

Morris Moss - The IT Crowd

Nepeta Leijon - Homestuck

Kim Jokja - Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

Sousuke Sagara - Full Metal Panic!

Mirabel Madrigal - Encanto

Kagami Tsurugi - Miraculous Ladybug

Taiyou Takada - My Clueless First Friend

Frankie Stein - Monster High (G3)

Jamie Winton - You, Me And The Apocalypse

Mino Naraidate - Ayakashi Akashi

Misumi Ikaruga - A3!

Strawberry Crepe Cookie - Cookie Run: Kingdom

Jotaro Kujo - JoJo's Bizzare Adventure

K1-B0 - Danganronpa V3

Morrigan Crow - Nevermoor Series

Benny - The LEGO Movie

Data - Star Trek: The Next Generation

Malleus Draconia - Twisted Wonderland

Spencer Reid - Criminal Minds

Lilo Pelekai - Lilo And Stitch

Temperance Brennan - Bones

Subaru Mikazuki - My Roommate Is A Cat

Homare Arisugawa - A3!

Ranpo Edogawa - Bungou Stray Dogs

Alhaitham - Genshin Impact

Futaba Sakura - Persona 5

Athena Cykes - Ace Attorney

Midorya Izuku - My Hero Academia

Bakugou Katsuki - My Hero Academia

Iida Tenya - My Hero Academia

Todoroki Shouto - My Hero Academia

Aizawa Shouta - My Hero Academia

Present Mic - My Hero Academia

James - End Of The F***ing World

Chu Sangwoo - Semantic Error

Chalarm - Dinosaur Love

Connor - Detroit: Become Human

Max Caulfield - Life Is Strange

Parker - Leverage

Lan Zhan - The Untamed

Ram - My Engineer

Kim Theerapanyakul - KinnPorsche

Alex Chen - Life Is Strange: True Colours

Penny Poledina - RWBY

Huey Duck - DuckTales

Denki Kaminari - My Hero Academia

Mihashi Ren - Big Windup!

Khabluken - Star In My Mind

Akk Pipitphattana - The Eclipse

Scott Summers (Cyclops) - X-Men

Hank McCoy (Beast) - X-Men

Orbulon - Warioware

Benrey - Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self-Aware

Gilion Tidestrider - Just Roll With It

Stanford Pines - Gravity Falls

Goemon Ishikawa XIII - Lupin III

Ash - Fire Emblem Heroes

Ty Betteridge - WOE.BEGONE

Maria Ushiromiya - Umineko No Naku Koro Ni

Yusuke Kitagawa - Persona 5

Charlie Kelly - It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia

Rachel Lindt - Worm

Arisugawa Himari (Cure Custard) - Kirakira Pretty Cure a la Mode

Ryan - WOE.BEGONE

Akhiko Sanada - Persona 3

Shadow The Hedgehog - Sonic The Hedgehog

Makoto Niijima - Persona 5

Streber - Spooky Month

Murray Hewitt - Flight Of The Conchords

Noel Gruber - Ride The Cyclone

Ushijima Wakatoshi - Haikyuu!!

Howard Moon - The Mighty Boosh

Mikitaka Hazekura - JoJo's Bizzare Adventure

Edward - Cowboy Bebop

MK - LEGO Monkie kid

Red Son - LEGO Monkie Kid

Mitsuru Kirijo - Persona 3

Aziraphale - Good Omens

Nemona - Pokémon Scarlet & Violet

Peter Sqloint - Just Roll With It

Bart Allen (Impulse) - DC Comics

Nanami Kento - Jujitsu Kaisen

Stannis Baratheon - Game Of Thrones: A Song Of Ice And Fire

Inspector Javert - Les Misérables

N - Pokémon Black & White

Vinyl Scratch (DJ Pon-3) - My Little Pony

Coco Pommel - My Little Pony

Alicia Hamilton - LPS Popular

Francis York Morgan - Deadly Premonition

Hunter - The Owl House

Mischa Bachinski - Ride The Cyclone

Auggie Hilderbrant - Scary Movies To Tell In The Dark

Sunny - OMORI

Chris Kirkman - Bravest Warriors

Himiko Yumeno - Danganronpa V3

Espresso Cookie - Cookie Run: Kingdom

#autistic coded tournament #tournament #tournament poll #bracket tournament #tumblr tournament #character tournament

[carphoegras]

I don’t ship most of these myself , but your rant/ramble posts on Les Mis ships are funny so I genuinely wanted your opinion on these 👁

1. Enjoltaire

2. Valvert

3. Enjonine

4. Marisette (or whatever Marius x Cosette was called)

5. Javonine (Javert and…Eponine 😭)

6. Marionine (A name a just guessed for Marius x Eponine because I wasn’t bothered to look it up)

7. and uhhh.. Granjonine (I think that was the name)

well hello darling! i live to entertain lol lets get into it i might have to put this under a cut because i think its obvious i have a rambling issue

Enjoltaire : a classic for good reason. they seemed really base level to me at first because i watched the movie first, but once i read the brick and really saw their dynamic i fell for them HARD. for me the beauty of this pairing is really rooted in the substance of their individual characters as opposed to like a romantic relationship. idk its so difficult for me to verbalize why i love them so much i think i just love the idea of finding common ground despite difficulties. enjolras and grantaire mirror each other in such a beautiful way that i feel the musical/movie couldn't really capture without demoting it to a puppy love grantaire/mean enjolras dynamic idk i have such an issue with some portrayals of them because i feel like they create a victim/abuser situation where there wasn't one but that's like a whole post within itself anyway i feel like im getting incoherent i love exr with every fiber of my fucking being just read the brick if you don't get it ok the movie and musical just dont do it justice and for the love of god avoid the fics written in 2012/2013 after the movie hype its all wRONGGGG (i love you george blagden but you created a twink grantaire movement) (they pull each others pigtails okay its a mutual obsession) (enjolras why don't you just ignore him baby? glutton for punishment my dear we all know if you hated him you wouldn't let him hang around) (anyway) i should make a seperate post about my exr feelings bc i could talk ab them for hours

2. Valvert: okay this is where i feel like i can be unpopular with the fandom. i fucking hate this ship. like physically, spiritually, all that. its one of those that i kinda lose respect for the person bc its literally a cop/prisoner thing. its not enemies to lovers. its not a hate love thing. javert's a fucking cop. valjean is his victim. the whole idea of people romanticizing this makes me feel so insanely icky and i think the point of the story has just gone RIGHT over some folks' heads please take a step back and think about it. neolib behavior sorry not sorry

3. Enjonine: enjolras is gay. just like, straight up in the brick enjolras is a gay man. this ship is spawned from straight girls who saw aaron tveit and use eponine as their not like other girls posterchild. just a whole bunch of hetero nonsense. same behavior as the joseph quinn enj x reader bs. honey thats a homosexual man and can we please stop reducing eponine to needing a boyfriend she needs a stable home and a goddamn therapist fucking hell

4. Marisette: okay. i LOVE THEM. i'm a cosette stan myself, and i'm a huge fan of a gooey love at first sight situation. they contrast my love for exr in the sense that they're a very easy love. their parts in the book literally make me SWOOOOOON i can put aside my beef with marius as a combeferre kin to appreciate how sweet they are

5. Javonine??: im sorry wh aht. did the snape x hermione shippers leak into the lm fandom or am i being fucking punked im not discussing this its obvious why this is wrong please tell me its obvious y'all are NASTY

6. Marionine: eh. eh. i mean, like i said with enjonine eponine's problems are not gonna be solved with a dude. i'm really not opposed to them, persay, its just that eponine's love for marius is so incredibly dependent and rooted more in her personal trauma than actual love, so i feel a little weird with them sometimes. sometimes it just gives anti cosette vibes (cough cough bc of the bullshit love triangle angle that the musical markets cough cough) so i tread very carefully with them

7. Granjonine: again what in the damn hell. i'm not dignifying this shit they could be besties but for the love of god george blagden did a number on the straight girls. STOP PROJECTING ONTO EPONINE IM GONNA LOSE MY FUCKING MIND LEAVE HER ALONE

thanks for the ask lovely, i do love rambling even though these ships are baffling lmaoooo

#les miserables #les mis

[lostsunlight]

CHAPTER 7 - DAYBREAK

childe x reader, wc: 4.2k, masterlist, Ao3

cw: nsfw, violence, murder

Childe left the apartment as soon as he left your room. He had a whole barrage of things to complete now that he had finally arrived in Liyue. Signoria had told him two things in exchange for helping her track down Barbatos. One. To seek a man who went by ‘Zhongli’. The second was that a Sigil of Permission was being held by Yangshang Teahouse. Despite Childe’s overall intolerance for La Signoria’s entire being, she was useful when she needed to be, but only when there was something in it for her. 

He had to check in at Northland bank first but it seemed that the owners of Yangshang were yet to pay their debt to the Fatui, a perfect opportunity to take the Sigil and begin replicating it in order to summon Osial and force Rex Lapis’s hand.

He had organised to meet the consultant tomorrow at Liuli Pavilion for lunch. But now it was time to make people pay their debts, the sooner he can get the Sigil the sooner he can prove himself. He makes his way up the winding balcony and red-lacquered stairs of Liyue Harbour to Northland Bank. 

As he approached the guard, if he recalled correctly her name was Nadya, she had been under his division for a while now. She stood to attention and saluted.

“Welcome Lord Tartaglia, Nothing to report'' she said sharply in Snezhnayan, Childe had to admit hearing and speaking in his mother tongue was a small comfort one he missed. 

“Thank you Nadya” He responded in Snezhnayan

He brushes past her and strides into the bank. The bank teller looks up sharpy, clearly not expecting anyone past the bank closing. Much like Nadya she immediately stands to attention, despite the standard grey Fatui mask covering her eyes she was quite clearly shocked. 

“Lord Harbinger, Please forgive me I was not expecting your arrival. I am Ekaterina, the receptionist at Northland Bank. Please allow me to show me to your office” She said softly, hand on her chest, not a strand of hair out of place.

“No need to worry Ekaterina. Please” Ekaterina stands and heads up the staircase concealed by the desks at the front and leads him to the second level. She stops at a door above the entrance to the bank, giving him a full view of the interior. 

“Your office Lord Harbinger” 

“Thank you, dismissed” Without another word Ekaterina dismisses herself and leaves Childe to work. Childe was impressed that he couldn't hear her footsteps as she left, she would be useful later.

Childe walks into the office, it looked like his apartment, decorated in the standard Liyuan style. He beelines towards the desk, already covered in stacks of paperwork to look for what he needed. After a few minutes he finds the file on Yangshang Teahouse and their debts to Northland as well as their assets, just as Signoria told him the Sigil was in their possession, as for how they got it in the first place was anyone's guess. 

Immediately making his way back downstairs he tracked down the Pyro Agent responsible for debt collections that night. 

“You, Javert is it?” he signalled to the Agent “Come with me, were headed to Yangshang Teahouse for a debt collection”

The agent appeared hesitant “Sir, need you see to such a routine matter?” His voice was augmented by the mask he wore, a handy invention of Capitano. 

“Relax, I have… other matters to attend to” 

“If you command Lord Harbinger” He gave a short bow and waited for his next order 

Without another word the two made their way to the infamous teahouse. Sneaking in the backdoor Childe heard the tail end of a conversation between the owner and a woman 

“…We can make it far away with this” The owner said, pushing up his glasses and crossing his arms, he seemed too sure of himself for Childes liking, it would be satisfying taking him down a peg. He seated himself down in a chair in the shadows, agent standing behind him.

“But Master” the woman hesitated, the jewels of her expensive-looking hairpin swung with the movement of her head, her voice lowered to a whisper “What about the debt?”

Childe decided it was his time to interject he tapped a finger against his knee “Oh yes, I’ll be here to collect that” he said, his voice having a hint of amusement weaved in with the sinister tone

“What? Who's there!” the owner yelled, looking around furiously before spotting him sitting in the shadows.

The woman broke out into a panic “Guards! Protect the Master!” She ran behind a table, hands white-knuckling the edge. Two burly guards closed in behind the so-called master, wielding nothing but wooden bats. At first sight Childe could see that he would beat them with no effort, they were slow and uncoordinated. For a place so elusive they couldn’t even hire competent guards

“No matter what you owe, you cannot run from your debt. Is that not the Law of the God of Contracts in Liyue?” Childe rested a hand on his head and finally made eye contact with the owner. An indigent expression was painted across his face. He raised a shaking finger accusingly at Childe.

“F-Fatui! How dare you barge into a private residence!” He whipped his head “Guards! Show them how we treat unwanted guests at Yangshang Teahouse!”

Childe stood instinctively drawing his hydro blades holding them back handed. 

“Hah, not much for adversaries” he said, his cool demeanour contrasting the heated situation. Childe instantly jumped in.

He slid behind the guards and hit one on the back of the neck, the sickening crunch of bone rang through the room. The guard fell to the floor with a loud thump, with his body unable to move his eyes darted to Childe. He moved onto the next, the guard swung his bat and Childe ducked under the blow. He aimed his blade so it laid flat and stabbed it into the man's rib cage directly into his beating heart. Childe lodged his other blade in the first guard's back, he took in one last shaking breath as the light in his eyes died. 

Childe stalked up to the owner, new dual blades forming to replace the old ones. 

“Now, time to pay your debts comrade” 

“I-I have no money as of now but give me a few more weeks the debt and interest will be paid in full! Please!”

“It's been months of us knocking at your door, you say the same thing every time don't you?” He drew closer to the owner, blade pressed against his throat “Begging is rather unbecoming for a man of your status isn’t it?”

“If you don’t have the mora then give us material goods and then your debt would be considered cleared”

“I would rather die than give up my life's work to the likes of the Fatui!” he shouted, back pressed against the wall. Even with his life under threat he still believed himself to be invincible.

“Very well” without a second thought he banged the man's head forcefully against the wall knocking him unconscious. The woman still behind the table screamed. The Pyro Agent who had been standing in the corner moved to quickly cover her mouth. Childe turned towards her.

“I’m feeling merciful today, I’ll let you go. Tell a soul about what happened here and you’ll meet the same fate as your owner” He decided to not tell her that he didn't actually kill him yet. The woman nodded vigorously and Childe nodded to the agent. He unhanded her and stood back against the wall. The woman collapsed to the floor panting, clutching her chest. 

“Now, tell me where your goods are and we’ll leave you be” The woman pointed to a painting that hung on the wall. 

“B-Behind there, the key is on the owners neck” Childe crouched down and found a worn piece of string tied around his neck, a key tied to the end of it. With a harsh tug it snapped off. He carefully took the painting off the wall and opened the hidden compartment. Even his security wasn’t well thought out. He mused to himself. 

Taking stock of what was in there he grabbed an ornate box and flicked it open. Inside was exactly what he was looking for. The golden sigil floated upright in his palm. The Pyro Agent stepped forward a little.

“I never would have thought that an ordinary person had a Sigil of Permission in their possession. Its been years since anyone has seen one of these” he said in awe

“Your job is debt collection, and yet you failed to check what treasures he might possess that you might collect?” Childe snarked back

“Apologies, a dereliction of my duties”

“Enough, lets go”

“Yes sir”

Childe and the agent stopped out the same way they came in. On the way back to the bank he gave one final order to the agent .

“Javert” The agent stood to attention “Return to the bank with another agent, clean up the mess there and possess any treasures you find, ensure that the woman doesn't say a word. I’ll handle the owner” With a way of his hand he dismissed him.

He immediately made his way back to Northland bank. On the way back he overheard two people talking, a snippet of their conversation caught his attention. 

“...strange blond traveller, couldn't be older than seventeen and a small fairy. Apparently he’s causing quite the stir in Mondstadt. Something about single handedly fending off the city from a dragon”

"I heard he doesn't even have a Vison but he was still able to harness Anemo"

Childe decided to put a pin that for later, he had only just left Mondstadt. For someone to obtain such notoriety in a short amount of time, and for it to reach Liyue so quickly. It would be useful to know more. 

Opening the heavy doors he saw Ekaterina still sitting at the desk he was surprised to see her hanging back so late. 

“Ekaterina, what are you still doing here?” he asked jovially

“I had a feeling you would need me to be around Lord Harbinger”

“Rather insightful aren't you comrade? As a matter of fact I do have something I need you to do. Come with me to my office”

Childe and Ekaterina quickly go up the stairs and enter his office, after rifling through a few papers he finds the ones he's looking for. The ones detailing the fraud of Yangshang Teahouse’s owner. Pulling out another copy of the paper he hands them to Ekaterina.

“Give one to the printing press, ensure they have it printed by morning. Give the other one to the Millelith. It's vital that nobody knows it was the Fatui who leaked this information so please be discrete” 

“Yes Sir”

“Perfect, Dismissed” 

Without another word Ekaterina left the office. Childe pulled out the Sigil of Permission, the golden talisman emitting a soft golden glow. Now that he had finally gotten his hands on a real one the Fatui research division under him should make exponentially more progress. Enough to hopefully summon Osial before the Rite, his mission had a time limit after all.  

Placing it back in its box went to find an underling to transport it safely to the facility, it would be far too suspicious for him to leave the city, as the old saying goes In Liyue even the walls have ears. After a few minutes of looking he found an inconspicuous ground soldier to get the package to the factory as fast as possible. 

With his work done for the night he walked the short distance across the raised walkways to his apartment. He opened the door and walked inside, instinctively checking to see if anyone was there. He caught sight of a figure curled up on the couch, book open. Within an instant he drew the dagger that lay strapped to his thigh. He stalked further into the apartment.

“I thought we agreed not to kill me?” The voice rang out, you snapped your book shut and gave him a lazy smirk.

“Can’t be too cautious” he retorted, re-sheathing his dagger. “I thought you would be asleep by now”

You sighed and rested a hand on your chin “I couldn’t sleep, I don't know where you went off to and considering your supposed track record I couldn’t risk it” Childe sits down next to you, long legs perching on the table in front of the couch.

“Aw, so you care about me? It’s not like anyone I killed tonight had a chance against me anyways” He said nonchalantly. He didn't miss your eyebrows furrow for a second.

“Just doing my job Harbinger” you tucked a strand of hair behind you ear “You still haven’t told me where you went”

“Just some debt collection, nothing for you to worry about” He leaned back against the couch, and you leaned in over him a little, placing a hand on the couch behind him to support yourself. You looked suspiciously at him.

“I thought you said that was just a cover for what you were actually doing”

He titled his head up to meet your gaze “Ask the staff at Northland if you wish, If I was scheming I would be out far later wouldn’t I?”

“You’re a terrible liar you know that” you flicked his earring, he recoiled at that and gave you a sharp glare.

“People would say otherwise Y/N, but maybe my мама might be able to still tell ” He laughed, recalling his mothers smile, how her hugs seemed to fix everything. 

“Мама?” You question, accent slightly butchering the foreign word.

“ Мама” he annunciates it better this time “ Mutter, Mother” he repeated in Mondstadtan and Common Tongue. 

He sees something flicker in your eyes, what looks like sadness. It was gone when you looked at him again. 

“You’re not going to tell me what you were actually doing were you?” You huff. Childe picks up a strand of your hair and plays with it, twisting it between his fingers admiring the way the yellow lamplight glows off of it. 

“Like I said debt collection, they had something I needed”

“The Sigil of Permission?” you breathe

“Perhaps” he smirks, dropping the strand of hair “You would make a good spy you know”

“And I already told you I’m not. Maybe in another life, If I was born a man and given to The Knights, or maybe if I was born in Snezhnaya and been conscripted to the Fatui”

“You would be a useful tool to the Tsaritsa”

“What makes you think I would serve her?” 

“Because you have ambition Y/N, don't let them rot at your feet”

“I think I just proved that I’m more than willing to do whatever I can to reach my goal Tartaglia” You draw closer to him, almost nose to nose. Your breath ghosted his face

“You said it yourself, you have further to go” his hand grasped your waist, the silk fabric of your nightdress bunching.

“I also recall saying I wanted my freedom, I don't want to serve any god, no matter how glorious you say they might be” 

Childe had to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying what he truly wanted to say. That he would bring the heavens down for the Tsaritsa. That her plan was to let man rule over Teyvat for themselves.

He leans into whisper in your ear “Don’t let another Fatuus hear you say that, you might get yourself killed” A hand moves up your thigh to skim the rapidly healing wound

“And I thought you agreed to protect me, don't want to break a contract under Morax’s watchful eye do you?” your voice was barely above a whisper, hand grasping onto his shoulder.  He draws a gloved finger across your jawline.

“Goodnight Y/N”

With that he stands and heads to his room without a second thought, leaving you to fall back onto the couch. 

✧

Liyue was much harder to navigate than Mondstadt, you thought to yourself as you strolled across the intersecting walkways flanked by well kept ponds. Green lily pads floated upon the clear water’s surface, so clear you could easily see the koi slowly swimming below. 

Looking up the honestly ridiculous amount of stairs to see Bubu Pharmacy at the top. You began your ascent. The cold morning air got worse as you got higher. Finally cresting the top you made your way to the counter at the front of the pharmacy. You took a moment to take in the sheer luxury of the place, endless draws edged with gold and heavy green curtains pulled back. The strong smell of incense permeated the place.

Looking around for someone you wondered if the pharmacy was closed. That was when you heard a quiet monotone voice from behind the counter.

“How can I help you today” You whipped around and peered over the counter. There stood a small girl barely peeking over the edge. A large talisman was attached to the hat perched atop of her lilac hair. She looked up at you, there was no emotion in those large magenta eyes. 

“I’m here about the apprenticeship to study under Dr. Baizhu”

“…One moment please. Qiqi will get Dr. Baizhu” The girl ambled off into one of the back rooms of the pharmacy. A moment later she returned with a tall man, a white snake wrapped around his neck.

“Thank you Qiqi” He said to the girl, she merely nodded and returned to the counter and pulled out a battered notebook. Baizhu turns to you, you could have sworn you saw the snake giving you a once-over. 

“And you would be here for the apprenticeship?” He questioned, long green hair swaying with the moment of his head.

“Yes, I’m Y/N of Mondstadt, I was trained as a healer using my Hydro Vision. I’m very well versed in anything in the realm of physical trauma” 

“Interesting” You started a bit as a feminine voice came from the snake. “What? Are you truly surprised I can talk? Teyvat has stranger things wandering around”

“M-my apologies, I was not expecting it” You let out a small laugh trying to ease the nervousness. 

“Now, Changsheng” Baizhu scolded her in a light tone. “I’m interested to hear why you would be applying for this apprenticeship in Liyue”

“I believe I have a lot to learn from Liyuean healing techniques, especially herbalism and spiritualism. Monstadt focuses more on the physical aspects of the patient and tends to disregard the spiritual and emotional aspects of healing” 

“How long have you been a healer?” Changsheng hisses

“Five years, I started my training when I was fourteen”

“And you were trained by The Church?”

“Not quite, I was born in Springvale, a small village in the woods. I was trained by some of The Sisters but I was never formally a part of The Church” You hoped they wouldn’t question the lie, wouldn’t press further into your past.

“A healer with a Hydro Vision could be very advantageous for us, they can heal physical wounds a lot faster than our current treatments” Changsheng said to Baizhu, cocking her head. 

“A good point Changsheng” He looks to you “Come, show me your skills and then I’ll decide on this apprenticeship” 

He leads you up the set of stairs around the back to a cosy infirmary, sunlight pouring in through the open windows, vases full of various plants were spotted around the room. 

“First, how would you heal a cut?”

“I would first ask if the patient needed any milk of the poppy. I would clean the wound with water and then fire water. Appy my Hydro Vision to partially heal the wound by easing the inflammation and speeding up the process a bit. I would apply an appropriate herbal salve and then wrap the wound” You said, listing off the steps on your fingers.

He gives you a short nod and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Very well”

He walks up to a woman lying in bed. Instantly you notice a few small cuts on her arm, as if she had been caught in a particularly nasty thorn bush. Medical supplies already laid out on a small cart next to the bed. 

“Miss Su Lin” Baizhu approached the patient, an elderly woman with grey hair, a few black strands remaining. 

“I have a Healer from Mondstadt here, would you be alright if she attended to the cut on your arm”

Su Lin, looked at you standing a little behind Baizhu. You give her a smile. “Alright, so long as you stay with her” 

You sat on the small stool next to her bed.

“Miss Su Lin, would it be alright if I looked at the cuts on your arm?” Su Lin raised her arm and placed it in your grasp, you gave them a look. You fell easily into the routine.

“How did you these may I ask?” 

“Tried to feed the stray cat outside my house. She laughed, didn't appreciate me petting it.” You laughed a little at that

“Not at all by the looks of it, would you like any pain relief?” you ask

“I’ll be alright” she replied

With that you get to work cleaning the wound, satisfied you removed your gloves and dipped your hands in the steaming bowl of water and herbs on the cart to clean your hands. 

“I don’t have enough power or skill to fully heal the wound using my Vision alone, but I can partially heal it” You explain to her. She gives you a nod, the go ahead.

You pressed your fingers on Su Lin’s skin and drew power from your vision. A faint glow comes from your hands, you see the redness going down and the wound gets smaller before your eyes. You removed your hands the moment you felt dizzy and took a deep breath in. Taking a second you don your leather gloves again and finish taking care of the wound. 

Su Lin gives Baizhu a look and thanks you. You stand and clasp your hands in front of you.

“Please give us a moment” Baizhu guestres towards the door, you politely step out and close the door behind you. Muffled voices came from behind the dark wood. You pressed your ear to the door

“She has potential, but she needs more training with tapping into her elemental mastery” a voice that sounded like Changsheng said 

“I concur, out of everyone that has trialed here she had done the best '' Su Lin said, you frowned. Was Su Lin a test patient? How did she get the cuts on her arms then?

“Although it seems she's not very well versed on Liyean customs and manners, perhaps it would benefit to teach her those” Su Lin continued

There was silence for a moment 

“I believe the Mondstadt training was a good foundation but she really could learn from Liyuean technique” another pause “And it saves me from having to teach the basics” Baizhu hummed 

“Then it's agreed” Changsheng hissed

“Very well” 

You stood back from the door the moment you heard him approach. 

“Y/N, I would be delighted to take you on as my apprentice here at Bubu Pharmacy” 

You stepped back a little in shock, you hadn’t expected to actually get the apprenticeship. You bought a hand to your chest “T-Thank you Dr. Baizhu” you breathed out

“Return here tomorrow morning, we will discuss your contract and pay then. Until then have a lovely day” 

“You too Dr. Baizhu” you look at the snake draped around his neck, tongue flicking out “And you Changsheng” You give her a nod. With that you leave Bubu Pharmacy and make your way down the stairs. There were significantly more people gathered around the store compared to when you got there, this time Qiqi was standing on a small step ladder so she was able to see over the counter. 

You felt elated, luck was in your favour it seemed, now you just had to work with the Harbinger until he finished his mission. On your way down the stairs you heard people muttering about something called ‘The Rite of Descension’ wondering what predictions Rex Lapis would bring this year. You made a mental note to question Childe about that later. You had a lot to learn about Liyue it seemed. 

The copy of ‘Teyvat Travel Guide II’ laid abandoned on the bookshelf after your conversation with Childe last night. You still couldn’t grasp how he joked about murdering a man so easily. Being around him was certainly interesting to say the least. The way he so casually touched you, the way he let you tease him. You didn’t know what you felt about him.

You tilted your face up to the sun, feeling its warmth in the height of summer. You decided to enjoy the rest of your day and deal with Childe and his scheming later. For now you had a new city to learn.

You wandered around the streets, enjoying the pure liveliness of the atmosphere. Even with the Milleleth stationed around you felt at ease, your every move wasn't being watched. A sense of paranoia still clung to you, every few minutes you would instinctively look around as subtly as you could. 

Out of the corner of your eye you could have sworn you saw a flash of silver, you turned towards the alleyway and saw nothing. You dismissed it as nothing and continued on your way, content to blend in with the crowd of Liyue Harbour.

#tartaglia x reader #tartaglia #childe #ajax #ajax fic #ajax x reader #tartaglia fic #tartaglia angst #tartaglia fluff #tartaglia fanfiction #tartaglia fanfic #tartaglia smut #childe fluff #childe angst #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact childe #genshin tartaglia #genshin childe #genshin impact childe x reader #genshin impact fic #genshin impact commission #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact fics #b's writing #godless

[dark9896]

Gift Horse [Steven x Reader]

Steven hummed in annoyance. He didn't want to feel this way, not about them.

Yes, he could see they were a good person. But why did they have to dress like that? Why did they have to act that way? What purpose did it serve? They were an adult yet they dressed and acted like a teenager.

So why did Steven love them?

The more he tried to ignore his feelings, the worse they got. It frustrated Steven to no end. Why were they always on his mind? He hated this.

Today was no different, Steven sat behind his desk. Listening to Zapp flirt with them for the umpteenth time this week, secretly hoping they would go with Zapp. But he felt so jealous over it at the same time.

"Oh, c'mon. We're basically the same, so just go out with me."

"There is nothing on Earth that we share." You sang a reply, "It is either Valjean or Javert."

Steven just barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping. Had you just? From that play? What? When had you seen it?

Wait. Stop. This wasn't helping.

"I wasn't aware you could sing [Name]." Klaus turned, "Are you a fan of Les Misrables?"

"I've only seen the movie. But I do know a decent bit about the novel it originated from and the complex sisterhood with The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Er, Notre Dame de Paris by Victor Hugo."

Stop. Talking. This is only making things worse for Steven. Had he only known you were this intelligent....

"I wasn't aware there was a connection between the two. Perhaps the two of us and Steven could discuss it over tea some time?"

Noooooo. Klaus. Stop. This is the opposite of helping.

"Sure. Though, I don't know how long of a conversation it'll be."

Steven couldn't handle this. Intelligent, shy, sweet.... aaaargh. Why? Was the punk look just a facade? Did it serve a purpose? Why couldn't you just be normal?

Steven found refuge in the breakroom. Pondering his dilemma over a fresh cup of coffee. At least until the door behind him opened. You were the last person Steven wanted to see.

Though, you seemed to be completely ignoring him. What gives? He shouldn't feel this way. Why did Steven want your attention right now?

"Oh, sorry Steven. I didn't see you there." He had just been overlooked? "I saw how uncomfortable you were earlier. Did something happen? Or was it just Klaus speaking for you?"

Steven froze, "No, that's not it. I just didn't expect that. Talking about those works I mean."

"With me." Steven was thrown by your change in voice, "You don't have to be polite about it. I see the way you look at me."

Steven shifted uncomfortably. You didn't really know the full extent of it.

"I'm use to it. Being disregarded and underestimated. But its fine. Easier to figure people out if they keep looking down. And a bit satisfying to take them down a peg if I'm honest."

Steven watched the look in your eye, guilt forcing his feelings to the surface. He wanted you to know that he wasn't like that at all, that wasn't why he looked so oddly at you.

"Not that you have really been too bad about it. Mostly just annoyed side eyes and disgruntled sighs."

"I have been fighting my own feelings towards you." Steven blurted out, "I didn't mean to be apprehensive."

Your raised eyebrow told Steven everything he needed to know. You didn't buy his words one bit.

"I swear I'm not lying to you [Name]. I prematurely judged you and let that cloud my reason. But I genuinely do....." Steven hesitated, so many months trying to stay away.....was now...

Steven swallowed a lump in his throat, "I love you, [Name]."

Steven had long since passed the point of no return. All he could do was hope you'd believe him.

"I'm not sure I can trust that statment. Not after all this time."

Steven's heart sank. This was his own fault. If only he hadn't been so stubborn about keeping you at arm's length.

"But, I can at least give you a second chance. Or....maybe its just a chance."

#bbb #kekkai sensen #kkss #blood blockade battlefront #steven starphase

[fangirlings-things]

"Did your father see you leaving?" Marius asked as soon as you joined their reunion, worry on his features. He would do such question to you everyday since you had told them who was your father. Inspector Javert. Known and feared on the streets of France.

"No, he did not" you smiled at him and was not surprised when he smiled back. As you, Marius knew what felt like to have the desire to fight for the people while coming from higher society. He understood you, which probably was the reason you two had formed a great friendship.

"Another day, another safe disguise for (Y/N)" Courfeyrac squeezed your shoulder with one of his hands, also smiling brightly at your success on escaping your father's constant view.

"I will drink to that" Grantaire raised the bottle of wine he had in his right hand in the air while looking at you and then, took it to his lips for a long sip.

"Have you heard anything new?" Enjolras came closer to you as he spoke, his eyes focused completely on yours and a stern expression on his face. You knew what he meant. With Inspector Javert being your father, it was inevitable of you to end up hearing about police pland, discussions and actions. Information you had been more than gladly sharing with the les amis.

"Yes, I have" you answered his question and instantly, his expression became softer and the corners of his lips curled up in a smile. He hardly smiled these days, but it always happened when you were about to tell him knew things that could be useful to the revolution. "You are going to love it, Enjolras"

Leaving your gaze floating across the room for a few moments, you saw the looks in all your friends eyes and actually chuckled a bit, smiling. They were all anxious to hear what you had to say on that day.

"Grantaire, pass me a bottle" you said while pulling up a chair and sitting down in a comfortable position. Grantaire passed you an already opened bottle and only after taking a sip, you began to speak. "Last night, I heard my father speaking to some of his closest, most trusted guards and he said that..."

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

gif credits: @sonsofeorl ; @despairingfever

want to be added to this fandom's tag list? let me know

#imagine #x reader #fanfic #imagines #les miserables #les miserables imagine #les amis #javert #enjolras #gavroche #grantaire #marius pontmercy #courfeyrac #les amis imagine

[singtotheskiies]

good stuff

#javert #les mis #les miserables #jean valjean #cosette #marius #gavroche #eddie redmayne #les mis 2012 #les #marius x reader #les mis fanart #les mis meme #les mis fanfic

[fandomimagines-andsoforth]

Enjolras x reader Headcanon

Imagine Enjolras forbidding you to join the revolution, because he doesn't want you getting hurt. So you dress up as a boy to disguise yourself and go anyway.

#les mierables #les mis #enjolras #enjolras x reader #enjolras imagine #24601 #french revolution #broadway #enjolras x grantaire #javert #cosette #jean valjean #marius pontmercy #grantiare #fantine #x reader #fandom imagines and so fourth #imagines #fanfic #les miserables x reader #les miserables imagine #headcanon #víctor hugo #19th century #fandom #aaron tveit #tevit #enjoltaire #france #vivalafrance

[officialscaramouche]

Can I request an Angst to fluff for Scara? With a hint of jealousy pls.

I’m sorry, Mona for always making u the other woman 😭 I love her I promise but I also love to hate her

pairing: gn!reader x scaramouche (I hope ur not tall bc he isn’t yikes)

word count: 1,382

tw: jealousy, angst, themes of infedelity

You woke up once again to a cold, empty bed. Rolling over to stare at Scaramouche’s side of the bed, you wondered why you still sleep on one side. It’s not like he’d come home to sleep with you anyway, so what would it matter?

Getting up to brush your teeth, his side of the counter looked untouched as usual. This shared bathroom, shared house, was starting to feel more like you lived here by yourself.

No notes as usual, not a reminder that he’d be coming home today or any update on how much longer he’d be working on this project. You understood that Scaramouche’s job was important, and you knew that there would be times when you wouldn’t see him for weeks or months. But whenever the two of you were apart, he was usually in another country. Mondstadt, Liyue, Fontaine, somewhere else. Not like now, when he was here in the same city.

He had warned you that he’d get busier. He told you one night over dinner that the Tsaritsa had given him a big project— planning the capture of the traveler. He complained, saying that he also had to negotiate terms with an outside party about assistance, and how the Tsaritsa double booked him with work. He always hated getting important roles, but he never half-assed his job. His title as the Balladeer came before anyone and anything. He was a hard worker, if nothing else. But you knew this, and you told him that you would make it work but knowing he’s maybe thirty minutes away from you in the same city made it more painful that he didn’t come home.

Was he avoiding you? Did you do something wrong? Did he meet someone else, and simply not bother to break up with you? Maybe he was hoping you’d break up with him and he wouldn’t have to deal with confronting you. Whatever the case, you wished you knew the truth and if he was going to break your heart, you at least want to know the full story.

You packed him a lunch, hoping that he’d have time to step away and share a meal with you. If he hadn’t been coming home, he also wasn’t eating well. He would rather skip a meal or two than fall behind on work, but hopefully he’d make an exception.

When you got there, the agents already knew who you were. Hardly anyone stopped to say hello out of respect, knowing who you were dating. When you got to his office, the agent guarding the room stepped in front of the door— something he didn’t do before.

“Hello, Javert. I’m dropping off Scara’s lunch. Is there a problem?”

“I’m sorry, [Y/N], he’s not taking guests right now. Please see him at another time.”

You stepped forward, reaching for the door. “No, I’d like to see him now.”

Javert put a firm hand on your shoulder and pushed you back. “Please, this is an order from him directly, I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I don’t care!” You spat, shoving him aside and quickly throwing open the door. “Scara, we need to talk—”

Your eyes met his, along with someone else’s. He sat on the outside edge of his desk, his hand on a woman’s chin— someone you had never seen before. His nose was not even an inch away from hers, a smile on both of their faces. “[Y/N],” he said in surprise, letting go of her chin and gently pushing her aside. “What are you…”

You drop the lunchbox onto the floor. “So this is what you’ve been so busy with, huh?” You bit your lip as it began to quiver, your fists shaking with rage. “This is why you couldn’t be bothered to come home?” Your heart pounded against your chest, the stinging pain too much to bear.

“[Y/N], wait. She’s—”

“No, fuck you! I’ve been waiting for you like a puppy, and you’re fucking around on me? We’re done!”

Kicking the lunchbox across the room, you turn and slam the door closed, Javert looking away to avoid making eye contact with you. You stomp down the halls, agents stopping to look at you. With the way you shouted, you didn’t doubt that everyone here heard you. Some people looked at you then quickly looked away behind you. Others tried to stop you from leaving, as if to beg you to stop and calm down.

It wasn’t until your fingers wrapped around the doorknob did you realize they weren’t looking at you or trying to stop you because not far behind, Scaramouche was stalking down the halls with an ugly scowl on his face. He grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, pressing you into the door. “Do you not hear me calling you, [Y/N]?” He hissed, holding your stare. “This is my workplace, you can’t just come in here and make a scene! Mikhail,” he snapped at one of the passing-by agents. “Open a conference room and escort the astrologist out of my office, please.” You pushed at his wrist holding you still against the door. “Please behave and come with me to my office.”

Back in his office he relieved Javert of duty to try and give the two of you some privacy. You stand by the door, refusing to move closer to his desk where they probably fucked every night, her sweat and come coating the surface. It made you angrier to think about it.

Scaramouche crouched down by one of the shelves as he picked up the contents of the lunchbox. “Thank you for making me lunch,” he said with a chuckle. “Even though I won’t be eating it now.” You didn’t say anything. You just stood there with your arms crossed, tapping your foot angrily. “Baby, please stop being mad. I already told you about her.”

“No you didn’t?! You didn’t tell me shit about some skank!”

He tossed the lunchbox on his desk, pulling his hat off and hanging it on the back of his chair. “Yes, I did. The assistance? She’s an astrologist, she can read the future.”

“So?! Why did you have to put your hands on her then?!”

Scaramouche made his way toward you slowly and deliberately. He extended his arms out to gesture for a hug. “Scare tactics, honey. She knows not to pick a fight in one of our bases. Look, she’s friends with the traveler. I have to make sure she won’t betray us.”

He stood in front of you, arms open and waiting for you to reach out to him. “I don’t like you touching her,” you spit, eyeing him up and down.

“Okay, baby. I won’t touch her again.”

“And I don’t want her alone with you in your office anymore.”

“Fine, you wanna start coming with me to work?”

“Are you actually going to come home?”

Scaramouche raised a brow at you. “What do you mean? I’ve been coming home.”

“No you haven’t! Your side of the bed is always untouched! And your sink, too!”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes and leans into you anyway, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tight. “You do know I only get, like, three hours of sleep right? Because I get home so late and I leave so early.” He cups your cheek, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips. “I can’t sleep without you, [Y/N]. Don’t be silly, you think I like being in this office? I’d much rather be at home, napping all day and getting lectured about the trash.”

You finally relax into the hug and hang your arms over his shoulders, letting him pepper your face and neck with kisses. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”

“Lying is a waste of time. You’d only find out the truth eventually.”

“I guess,” you pout, knowing he’s never been one for lying. “If I ever found out you’ve been having sex in this office behind my back, I’ll—”

“You’ll kill me, I know. Trust me, the papers on my desk are more important than pussy.” He pulled back to look at you, your blush heavy from embarrassment and pout prevalent on your lips. “But if you want to—”

“No!!”

“Okay! Geez, just saying!”

#writing #request #Scaramouche #Scaramouche x reader #genshin impact

[iberiandoctor]

Writing Tag Game!

Tagged by @swaps55. Thank you! Tagging @saltedpin, @thebansacredbanned, @breadcrumbsandstars and @angel-in-the-city-blog should you feel so inclined!

How many works do you have on AO3?

Under iberiandoctor? 97

What’s your total AO3 word count?

961,007. Oyyy.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Uh, so I am hopelessly multifannish; my dashboard has 40 fandoms, large (X-Men Movies, 12,000 hits) and little (The Age of Innocence novel, 47 hits). Here are my top five fics in each of my five largest fandoms:

Somewhere Like Bolivia (X-Men, Charles/Erik, [M]), my only >1k kudos fic, and only because Marvel 616 is such an outsized fandom.

A Remission Before God (Les Miserables, Valjean/Javert, [M]), my Valvert multichapter post-Seine redemption arc fic, the one everyone writes when falling headlong in love with Les Mis fandom.

The First Hope (DCU, Clark/Bruce, very much [E]). Clark comes back wrong. Explicit tentacles, please heed warnings.

Love Adventure Death & Glory (Hellblazer/Lucifer (TV)/Sandman crossover, John Constantine/Lucifer, John Constantine/Morpheus, [M]). My most popular Yuletide fic! Featuring my most problematic fave, and/everyone.

Nostos (Call Me By Your Name, Oliver/Elio, [M]). This pining, coming-of-age fandom cries out for AUs, and this is the three times futurefic I wrote for these boys.

Do you respond to comments?

Always. I love to engage with readers and fellow fans, and cherish every single comment! Sometimes there is a delay in the response, but I try hard to make sure I respond to everyone.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I have left Elio and Oliver in a terrible angsty place in The Age of Imagination and Experience, where they get to part for two decades. In my defence, this is where Wharton’s novel leaves their canon analogues? I’m not planning on ending on angst, though! Tomorrow, At Dawn is decidedly a non-fix-it (warning, Major Character Death).

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Most of my endings are happy, though it tends to be a qualified or bittersweet happiness. In The Ghosts of Summer, I give a happy ending to not just Valvert, but also make a fix-it for another very unhappy couple.  

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

All the time! Here’s my Discworld/Mis story [Gen], and my Hellblazer/Harry Potter [E].

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate, per se. I’ve been lucky.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do! I like to write emotional smut. My favourite smut is the one involving a deep emotional connection, but where they’re still in denial about it. That said, annoyance/hate/rivalry works for me as a deep emotional connection.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, into Mandarin, which I can only read very laboriously.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! I’m presently writing unknown, unsorrowed, unloved with @breadcrumbsandstars , and I had the best time co-writing The Lark and Her Lieutenants with @thebansacredbanned for Les Mis Big Bang 2020.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I’m a Lawful Neutral writer, and I’m planning on finishing all my WIPs. Yes, even The Cabinet Particulier, which hasn’t been updated since 2018…

What are your writing strengths?

I like writing plot and emotional climax. I write in a couple of historical fandoms, and I think I do a pretty good job with setting and historicity. I enjoy research, and have at any one time more than ten open tabs. I have lots of fun writing smut and, actually, crack.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Before falling into Mass Effect fandom, I was leery of writing combat and hard SF tech. Here I am trying to face my fears, lol. Also, after years writing in period language and non-English language fandoms, I’m trying to get to grips with more colloquial writing.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I definitely like it when others do it, and do it myself in non-English language fandoms like Les Mis.  

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I try not to talk about my RPF roots in public, but this was foreshadowed by Baby’s First self-insert Duran Duran fic ;)

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Currently I’m so in love with mShenko and Mass Effect that I can’t look beyond A Hundred Battlefields, my reincarnated soulmates AU.  

#the doctor writes #writing meme

[fremedon]

Brickclub 2.2.2, “In Which Are to Be Read Two Lines of Verse Perhaps by the Devil,” and 2.2.3, “The Ankle-Chain Must Have Been Worked On Previously, to Break at a Single Hammer-Blow”

I don’t have much to say about 2.2.2 that isn’t said by @meta-squash​ here or @everyonewasabird​ here, so since I’ve fallen so far behind this week I’m just going to skip to 2.2.3.

The opening digression on the cost of cannon salutes is still depressingly relevant, mutadis mutandis. I remember being reminded of this passage when I read Patrick O’Brien: part of what makes Jack Aubrey such an effective fighting captain is that he spends his own funds--money he often does not have--to buy powder and shot out of his own pocket, because the admiralty won’t pay for enough extra ammunition to let him drill the sailors effectively. The money spent on ceremonial cannon-fire isn’t just taking bread from the poor, it’s taking training and effectiveness from the navy itself.

That’s the only part of this chapter I would actually call a digression--the long passage on the Spanish war is pretty thematically integrated. Briefly--Spanish forces being mustered at Cadiz to go and retake the rebellious colonies of Spanish America mutinied, sparking a liberal revolution that ousted King Ferdinand; France went to war to restore him to the throne.

(The Siècle on the Spanish war: Episode 18 and a supplement on Thiers’ war reporting.)

The Spanish war was unpopular with the left for obvious reasons and with the Ultras, who feared the monetary costs, the likelihood for opening another ‘Spanish ulcer,’ and the likelihood of the French troops mutinying themselves.

Militarily, the French intervention put down the Spanish revolution with surprising ease--enough that the war was not even terribly useful for stoking nationalist fervor. “It seemed clear that certain Spanish officers whose duty was to resist yielded too easily,” Hugo says. It is not just morally correct for revolutionaries to fight to the last man, to hold their ground as we saw at Waterloo and will see at the barricade--it’s also useful. The French armies leave Spain with no joy in victory and a loss of respect for the Spanish; readers in 1862 would be aware that in 1832 (and the insurrections that followed), even the monarchists were impressed and humbled by the dedication and bravery of the dead insurgents.

As for the Bourbons-- “They did not see the danger that lies in suppressing an idea by decree.... The seed of 1830 was sown in 1823.” Quite literally, the July Revolution of 1830 will begin with the attempt to suppress ideas by decree, by muzzling the press. But also, 1830 kicked off with Charles X’s invasion of Algeria--a foreign war specifically conceived to whip up conservative sentiments at home to sway the elections to the Chamber of Deputies. As in Spain, it was a surprisingly quick and overwhelming military success--a punitive expedition to shake down the Dey of Algiers in response to a diplomatic insult ended in the unexpected capture of Algiers and the start of more than a century of colonial rule. And politically, it did not work--it was seen from the start as a cynical political ploy (where it wasn’t seen as a mask for mobilizing troops to turn against political opponents at home) and only galvanized the liberal opposition, who won overwhelmingly. (And when revolution broke out over Charles’ attempts to dismiss the resulting liberal Chamber before they had even met, as well as cracking down on the press, the most loyal third of the army was still in Algeria. Oops.)

So that’s the current political situation.

"An army,” Hugo says, in the middle of this discussion, “is a strangely contrived masterpiece by which force results from an enormous amount of powerlessness.” The unquestioning obedience--a weakness--of soldiers comes together to create strength.

In contrast--and I’m going to quote at length because this is such a lovely passage--

"A ship of the line is one of the most magnificent conjunctions of the genius of man and the power of nature.

A ship of the line combines both the heaviest and lightest of components because it operates at one and the same time with the three forms of matter, solid, liquid, and gas, and must contend with all three. It has eleven iron claws to grab the granite sea-bed, and to catch the wind in the clouds it has more wings and feelers than any flying insect. Its breath is expelled from its one hundred and twenty cannons as from enormous bugles, and proudly answers thunder. The ocean tries to lead it astray in the frightening sameness of its waves, but the vessel has a soul, its compass, that guides it and always indicates north. On dark nights its lanterns act as substitutes for the stars. So against the wind, it has rope and canvas; against water, timber; against rock, iron, brass, and lead; against darkness, light; against immensity, a needle.”

In the ship, as in the army, small and weak things come together--ropes, lanterns, a needle--to create great strength. But the army wages war “by humanity against humanity despite humanity”; the ship contends with Nature, against which--as Hugo goes on to tell us--it is still immensely small, and can easily come to ruin.

Or, if it is lucky, to the drydock at Toulon, where it is gawked at by another of Hugo’s crowds: “Whenever immense force is deployed and ends up as immense weakness, men’s imaginations are stirred.” So the ship is also the opposite of the army--weakness created from the merging of strengths.

So, there’s a lot going on here. Going back to that line at the start of the passage--”one of the most magnificent conjunctions of the genius of man and the power of nature.” Possibly, after Waterloo, I’m seeing the Providence/Nature vs Fatalité/Man antithesis everywhere, but I think it is echoed here. If Waterloo is what Providence could create out of the threads of human choice, human fatality, in order to set itself right, the ship might be a model of what human choice--human genius, which is a phrase Hugo uses several times in Waterloo in contrast to Providence--can make of what Nature gives it: the sea, the wind, the magnet.

By that logic, the ship should be what humanity uses to set itself right. But if the ocean is still Society--that thing which is not quite humanity, but is of it--the ship is where the Man Overboard falls from; it’s human progress, humanity setting its own course. It’s functional institutions, legitimate government, networks of care.

And, moving back to the level of plot, we see a specific ship, a real man, overboard into a real sea--and Jean Valjean, whose presence immediately makes it clear why we’ve just spent all this time talking about the intersection of great strength and great weakness. 

His name isn’t confirmed until the very end of the newspaper article that ends the chapter, but that is his name now. He is Jean Valjean, who combines the immense physical strength--and social deference, as we’ve just seen again in Boulatruelle--of the convict 24601, now 9430, with the social and legal knowledge, the wealth, and the unprepossessing façade of the bourgeois Madeleine. Valjean never successfully made an escape as 24601--to make this one he needed the skills he learned on the outside, the ability to wait, to plan for the future, to even imagine a future, just as much as he needed his strength. The chapter title says it all--he prepared the shackle, so he could break it with one blow. 

Fursona Watch: Valjean climbs the rigging “with the agility of a tiger-cat.” Tigers are the one feline that’s not uniformly positive in this book, and the only one associated with Javert.

On his way down to the struggling sailor, he looks “like a spider coming to catch a fly, only in this case the spider brought life, not death.” I think--as with Waterloo, and as with the ship, which also keeps people out of the ocean--that here we start to see Valjean as Fatalité in the service of Providence. We’ve seen Providence suddenly arrogate his choices to its own ends--starting with the purchase of his soul, after he rejects the softer path to humanity that the bishop offers him. Now he’s offering them up freely--creating, out of renunciation and self-abnegation, great power. And he’s basically Spider-Man, because we know what comes with great power.

#brickclub #lm 2.2.2 #lm 2.2.3 #i am not saying that Hugo literally anticipated Spider-Man #i am saying I would give a LOT to read a Spider-Man comic by Hugo #even though it would start with 20 issues of Uncle Ben's backstory #and no one would ever forgive Hugo #or honestly #Peter Parker #for letting him die

[lesmisbbc]

Andrew Davies’s Introduction to the new BBC tie-in edition of Les Misérables

Les Misérables is a great baggy monster of a book. War, poverty, crime, justice, injustice, punishment, love, hatred, redemption, revolution: It seems that Hugo wants to encompass the whole world and everything in it, in a single novel.

At first it seems as if Hugo is telling a number of unrelated stories. He recounts the modest and virtuous life of a Bishop in the town of Digne in the south of France. The Bishop is visited by a newly released convict by the name of Jean Valjean, who steals the Bishop’s silver candlesticks but is forgiven and given the chance of a new life.

Then we are introduced to Fantine, a 17-year-old seamstress in Paris, the youngest and prettiest of her little gang. The girls pair up with a group of wealthy students, who show them a good time but then leave for their country estates, and Fantine is left with a baby and no means of support.

We encounter Thenardier, a human scavenger, robbing corpses in the aftermath of the battle of Waterloo, and amassing enough loot to set himself up as an innkeeper.

Meanwhile, in a grand house in Paris, a little boy called Marius is brought up by his autocratic Royalist grandfather, while his despised father, a hero of Waterloo, can only occasionally glimpse him in church.

All these people seem to inhabit different worlds, but they will be shown to be inextricably bound up in each other's fates. Fantine’s daughter Cosette is enslaved and abused by the Thenardier family, rescued by the ex-convict Valjean, and eventually encounters and falls in love with Marius (who is also loved by Thenardier’s daughter Eponine) and who turns away from his grandfather’s Royalist beliefs to join the abortive insurrection of 1832.

At the heart of the story is Jean Valjean, who has spent more than half his adult life in the prison hulks at Toulon for the crime of stealing a loaf of bread. He has been brutalised by this experience, and is now an avowed enemy of society, but he remains troubled by guilt and remorse. His nemesis is Javert, whom we first encounter as a prison guard, then as a chief of police. Javert is obsessed with Valjean, eventually to the point of madness, because Valjean confounds his rigid beliefs about personality and predestination. The conflict between Javert and Valjean takes on a mythic, almost Biblical grandeur. It is a debate about the very nature of humanity.

When I start thinking about an adaptation, I always ask myself: Why this? Why now? At one level, the question is easy to answer: Like War and Peace, Les Misérables poses the big questions: How should we live? How does love grow? What do we owe our parents, and vice versa? How do we endure suffering? How do we forgive others? How do we forgive ourselves? In this way, Hugo’s novel will always be relevant. But it speaks directly to our times too: great cities like London and Paris present glaring dichotomies of wealth and squalor that are difficult to ignore: Les Misérables forces us to look closely and identify with the wretched and forsaken of this world.

And of course, the long-running musical adaptation proves that Hugo’s novel still speaks to a contemporary audience. And these days most people will know of Les Misérables through the musical. I wanted to introduce the television audience to the full complexity of the novel, from the battlefield of Waterloo to the cloacal horror of the Paris sewers, and the final reconciliation and resolution, which I placed in the Bishop’s garden in Digne. And I hope that lovers of the musical will find their appreciation of the story enriched by this fuller version. In particular, we get to know and love Fantine as a carefree affectionate young girl, before all her trials and troubles begin. And as a father of a daughter, I was particularly engaged by Jean Valjean's relationship with little Cosette, who has been so abused by the Thenardiers. Jean Valjean and Cosette learn to love each other so purely and intensely: and then Valjean has to learn to let her spread her wings: a particularly intense expression of a universal experience.

We also see Marius grow from a charming toddler into a cocky and snobbish little boy, and then into a troubled young man. We see Gavroche as a neglected baby, Eponine and Azelma first as spoilt little girls, then as exploited teens. And we get to understand what monsters M. and Mme Thenardier really are.

Hugo includes a great many coincidences and not a few improbabilities in his story. Perhaps the hardest to swallow is that Hugo seems to expect us to believe that Javert turns up at Montreuil-sur-Mer by coincidence, and then he and Valjean fail to recognise each other. Every problem is an opportunity in disguise, and the story becomes a much richer one if we have Javert coming to the town by design, and playing a cat-and-mouse game with Valjean, both men having recognised each other instantly without acknowledging it. And in production, David Oyelowo and Dominic West were able to extract all the dramatic juice from this situation, in two extraordinarily powerful and subtle performances.

As always, it hasn’t been possible to include everything in the adaptation. Readers of this edition who have watched the show first will find so much more to enjoy. I feel very proud that my adaptation will have led many new readers to this magnificent, extraordinary masterpiece.

[x]

#les mis bbc #andrew davies #bbc les mis #les mis #les miserables #les miserables spoilers #spoilers #i'm too tired to even comment on this

[bbclesmis]

The Big Issue: 'Les Misérables' star David Oyelowo reveals an epic, sweeping drama

Victor Hugo's epic of love, loss and smashing the system is set to explode on to our screens as the first big event TV of 2019. David Oyelowo tells us why BBC's Les Misérables doesn't need to make a song and dance to be a hit

David Oyelowo is a proper movie star these days.

A power player in Hollywood who can make big film projects happen. A respected actor who now also produces around 80 per cent of the films and television series he stars in. And a changemaker with friends and collaborators in very high places, not least media giant Oprah Winfrey – “like a mother to me, but also a mentor” – who is actively reshaping the movie industry from within.

And he is starting off 2019 with a flourish. For the first time since 2009’s role in the stunning adaptation of Andrea Levy’s Small Island, Oyelowo is back on the BBC in a major drama, their non-singing, non-dancing adaptation of Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables.

It offers a reminder of the 42-year-old’s immense talent: Oyelowo is quite brilliant as Javert, the tenacious jailer hot on the heels of Dominic West’s prisoner-turned-mayor Jean Valjean, finding something heroic in the antagonist of the piece during their epic 19th-century game of  cat-and-mouse.

“It is what the BBC does best, this kind of epic, sweeping period drama that feels very resonant to the times we are in because of how Hugo captured the politics, the revolution, the humanity, the sex, the religion, the notion of forgiveness and redemption and evil and good,” he says. “All that we are is in this piece.”

Javert in Andrew Davies’s six-part adaptation is a world from Russell Crowe’s depiction in the 2012 musical film. Oyelowo explains that whereas fitting this extraordinary story – and all the songs – into just over two-and-a-half-hours for the movie meant painting in “broad brushstrokes” and “primary colours”, the series allows more context, more nuance, more depth and dimension.

Screenwriter Davies has added a sexual frisson as well. “We really muddy it up. I wasn’t interested in playing a villain,” says Oyelowo. “It would get very dull if I was twirling my moustache and constantly doing something dastardly for six hours. I don’t think that would be paying homage to the levels of humanity that Victor Hugo manages to get into this novel.

“And Javert is always played posh, which is incredibly lazy. Because he is not. As Hugo clearly states, he was born in a prison, he is working class, he is a prison guard.”

The man is so alone we don’t see any level of human contact that even hints at an ability to connect

And the repressed sexuality that Davies teases us about at the screening? “It is in there, but not something we dwell on. The man is so alone we don’t see any level of human contact that even hints at an ability to connect. Javert can come across as asexual, because he is so consumed by his desire to combat what he deems to be criminality. It is what he has dedicated his life to.

“Javert doesn’t have the luxury to legislate what is right or wrong. You steal a loaf of bread, you go to jail.

“Now, should Jean Valjean be there for 19 years? I would argue not. But considering his upbringing, there is something admirable about a man who decides to fight for the law.

“My hope is that people will not necessarily empathise, but they may find just a few minutes within the six hours where they sympathise with who Javert is and what he does.”

In the intervening decade since Small Island, Oyelowo moved to LA, become a US citizen and appeared in films including Lincoln, The Paperboy, The Butler and Jack Reacher.

Then came his performance as Martin Luther King Jr in Ava DuVernay’s Selma for which he won plaudits galore but, mystifyingly, was snubbed at the Oscars. He expresses no bitterness about it, but he does admit that he finds it “very nice to be back on the Beeb, and with a show I am really proud of”.

The story is set two decades after the French Revolution, by which time the promise of liberté, égalité, fraternité was already turning to merde. The extremes of wealth and poverty had only become starker. Paris was burning. And people like Jean Valjean were criminalised simply for being poor.

“The revolution was born out of the haves and have nots being such extremes. But the unrest that caused the revolution continued to burn under the surface,” says Oyelowo. “And if you look at the protests and marches and disquiet we are seeing, both in America where I live and here, the women’s marches, marches for gun control, against terrorism, against war, against Brexit, against Trump, there are people on the streets of France as we speak. You can transpose a lot of the unrest now onto what was going on then.

“It is the criminalisation and marginalisation of the poor and of minorities. It is the abuse of power.”

What does it take to bring Oyelowo onto the street, protesting? “Racial inequalities and any kind of marginalisation of people on the basis of who and what they are. Although,” he adds, “I try to be a doer not a talker. So there are causes I fight for in ways I don’t need to beat the drum about. It is all about trying to effect real change. Especially as I have been afforded a certain platform that means I can do that.

My attitude is that I would rather put a little drop in the ocean of the problem than sit back and cry over how vast this ocean is.

Oyelowo is not, he says, an avid reader, but devoured Hugo’s mighty novel in its entirety. Given the times we are living through, the love and idealism, hope and redemption described could be pretty useful.

“They are not only useful, they are absolute necessities,” says Oyelowo. “They are the core of who we actually are. When you look at Jean Valjean, at Cosette, at Fantine, who have such a goodness about them, they are the pinprick of light in the darkness. I think that is why the story is so enduring.”

I wonder the degree to which his politics inform the roles he takes and the projects he produces. “My politics is very much informed by my morality, my spirituality,” he says. “So the way I live, the way I vote, the work I do is all born out of my faith as well. You know, love God, love one another. It is as simple as that. The gospel is boiled down to that.”

Or, as it says in Les Misérables, “To love another person is to see the face of God”?

“Exactly, And that really, is why I wanted to do it. The journey Jean Valjean goes on is so biblical, I think it is a deeply spiritual piece.”

Les Misérables starts on BBC One on 9pm on December 30 (x)

#les mis bbc #bbc les mis #david oyelowo #javert #Interviews #articles