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kjack89 · 2 months

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Timeless

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was already familiar with it.

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

Enjolras sighed. “I said something stupid.”

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

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

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

“I just pointed out that statistically—”

“Enjolras,” Combeferre and Courfeyrac groaned simultaneously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime,” Courfeyrac said, saccharine sweet.

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

Though, in this case, Enjolras definitely deserved it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ma, not tonight—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knew what he needed to give Grantaire.

— — — — —

“I bought these.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stirring oration as always, Enj—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They had all the time in the world.

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

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mlmshipbracket · 8 months

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ROUND ONE: POLL #6

ROUND 1 ALL POLLS [HERE]

PROPAGANDA BELOW

Kotetsu T. Kaburagi/Barnaby “Bunny” Brooks Jr. :

NO PROPAGANDA SUBMITTED

Enjolras/Grantaire:

youtube

"However, [Grantaire] had one fanaticism. This fanaticism was neither a dogma, nor an idea, nor an art, nor a science; it was a man: Enjolras. Grantaire admired, loved, and venerated Enjolras" "Grantaire in the presence of Enjolras became some one once more." "Grantaire, in whom writhed doubt, loved to watch faith soar in Enjolras. He had need of Enjolras. That chaste, healthy, firm, upright, hard, candid nature charmed him, without his being clearly aware of it, and without the idea of explaining it to himself having occurred to him. He admired his opposite by instinct." "There are men who seem to be born to be the reverse, the obverse, the wrong side. They are Pollux, Patrocles, Nisus, Eudamidas, Ephestion, Pechmeja. They only exist on condition that they are backed up with another man; their name is a sequel, and is only written preceded by the conjunction and; and their existence is not their own; it is the other side of an existence which is not theirs. Grantaire was one of these men. He was the obverse of Enjolras."

Pollux = twin of Castor, Patroclus = famous lover of Achilles, Nisus = partner of Euryalus in Virgil's Aeneid, Ephestion = boyfriend of Alexander the Great, Pechmeja = 18th Century French author

#kotetsu t. kaburagi #barnaby brooks jr #kotetsu t. kaburagi/barnaby brooks jr #taibani #tiger and bunny #enjolras #grantaire #enjolras/grantaire #exr #les miserables #tumblr poll #tumblr bracket #mlm ship #mlm ship poll #mlm ship bracket #mlm ship bracket tournament #mlm ship bracket 2023 #mlm ship bracket tournament 2023 #secondr1

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dolphin1812 · 7 months

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The porter’s murder is terrifying and graphic; he couldn’t see what was happening, and Hugo tells us how the bullet passed through him. The barricade now has an element of horror that can’t be forgotten.

I shouldn’t have used the word “terrifying” for Le Cabuc’s act, because Enjolras is terrifying, too. He just forces this man down! And he kills him so calmly! This what “capable of being terrible” really means – he’s caring to his friends and loves the people, but he’s willing to do dark things for his cause, and he’s resolute in doing so (and he even says “terrible” to describe his actions in some translations!).

When Enjolras told Grantaire to leave because he was “dishonoring” the barricade, he was operating the same way he is here. Le Cabuc sullied the barricade’s integrity with murder, so he was executed. But Enjolras condemns himself as executioner, too, because he believes violence is abhorrent (“Death, I make use of thee, but I abhor thee”). His act is just in his eyes, yes, but it’s just in an “old” order that yields to “necessity.” He wants none of that to exist! And so he thinks he must die, too, because now he is tainted by the violence of the old world. His speech is moving, but it’s tragic. The hopeful side is one he excludes himself from entirely.

Combeferre is the first to say he’ll join him, which is moving for two reasons. One (and most generally), it’s a sign of how much they care about each other. Enjolras hadn’t said what his fate would be, but Combeferre offers to share it immediately, regardless of how bad it is! Secondly, Enjolras’ view of justice here has likely been influenced by Combeferre: “the good must be innocent,” and Enjolras can’t see himself as “innocent” after what he did. Therefore, he is no longer “good,” and cannot see himself in that perfect world. And Combeferre isn’t the only influence! He says “the human race,” not “France,” suggesting that Feuilly’s broader perspective may have gotten to him. But Combeferre’s influence is the one that condemns him.

This may sound like a critique of Combeferre (that sort of life-long punishment wasn’t his intention – it resembles the prison system), but it’s also important to keep in mind that while these are beloved characters to us, they’re also symbols. To those who despised protests for being messy and violent, what could be more appealing than someone who rejects that aspect so entirely that he disciplines the barricade and condemns himself for what he’s done? It’s difficult to say the barricade is full of “troublemakers” in the face of Enjolras’ principles, and it encourages those who simply want peace to sympathize with him (a revolutionary) most of all.

And Le Cabuc was probably Claquesous! It would make sense with how he was a stranger to those who supposedly knew him, maintaining his air of mystery. And it means there really were a lot of police spies, with two known (possible) ones at just one barricade! Claquesous’ violence may have even been intentional if he was there as a spy, trying to turn the people against the barricade by making it needlessly violent.

#Les mis letters #lm 4.12.8 #Enjolras #le cabuc #Claquesous #combeferre #it’s such a memorable chapter and there’s probably something to be said about the possibility of a spy causing problems intentionally #But I don’t have any coherent thoughts

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whorejolras · 11 days

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11 & 22 for any ship/character!! :D for the fandom ask game <3

thank you bb! ask game

(angel numbers nice)

11. What's your favourite piece of fanart for [ship]?

oh god FAVOURITE urgh. time to scroll the e/r tag and see what i've reblogged recently

ok i've been thinking about this by @shamedumpster since literally the moment it dropped

that grippy hand. i can't stop thinking about it.

scrolling my e/r tag i saw this one by @perplexingly again and had to stop and stare for several minutes

but this by @the-march-hair is the definitive e/R fanart to me

22. Give us a headcanon for [character]

i've been thinking a lot about enjolras playing with genderfuckery after he transes his gender. getting more comfortable in himself and wearing more feminine colours and styles and painting his nails and wearing heels and skirts and lipgloss.

i just really love cross dresser enjolras. enjolras in drag. but he's also transmasc 👏🏻

also grantaire froths at the mouth for it and gets so hard he passes out

#i'm trans i'm allowed to sexualise gender fuckery if i want to #and i want to #he lowkey nb but he had a job :'(#les mis #e/r #enjolras #grantaire #mine #asks #ask games

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emotionallydrainedtrash · 2 years

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L'art d'aimer

Masterlist

Enjolras x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, suggestive banter, PDA.

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

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

"There's the happy couple!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh do tell my darling."

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

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

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

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

"Non, I suppose not."

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you."

"Not more than I love you."

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

A portrait of true love indeed.

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

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pontmercysamis · 6 months

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i know that some people don’t like turning, but i love it and the parallels between it and drink with me are SO interesting to me

“will the world remember you when you fall?” // “no one ever told them that a summers day can kill…”

and

“can it be your death means nothing at all?” // “where’s that new world now the fighting’s done?”

i’m not saying that grantaire is completely right, as obviously we wouldn’t have the show if he was, but the women are a direct example of what grantaire is saying and what he is critiqued for. the people in that moment DONT know that the barricade boys intended to be martyrs, they don’t remember who it is that passes or what they really meant, and the world isn’t the place of concord and harmony that enjolras envisioned. the people are still hurting. turning is why the les amis built that barricade, but i also think it gives grantaire more of the dimensions he doesn’t get in the musical. the audience can see where he is coming from, his cynicism isn’t unfounded, it’s from seeing the world and living in it.

#les mis #les miserables #les miserables musical #grantaire #drink with me #just a thought

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autumnalmess · 15 days

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would love to hear more about "to watch a bird in flight"! :D

Now that I'm in my ridiculously late break from work (it's literally midnight I procrastinated for too long this morning), I can finally answer these!!

"to watch a bird in flight" is a canon era (eventual) enjoltaire fic, with the title coming from the first amis chapter:

This is a sweet but angsty pre-barricade fic in which Grantaire is a coward, Enjolras is capable of being terrible, and revolution waits in the wings.

It's inspired by the fact that Grantaire is a huge fucking yapper and I hadn't seen enough book-faithful blabbing in a lot of the fics I'd read. But more because I am charmed and fascinated by working out the pipeline from 'roughly repulsed, rejected' to the sudden and unfortunate realization of being in love with someone so a) male in 1830s France, and b) unlike anything one could have anticipated.

I've not said even half the things I have to say about this fic (more is in the tags) so please do comment if you're interested or have any questions!!

Have an angsty little snippet xx:

Bahorel claps a hand on his shoulder as Grantaire begins to shuffle homewards. “Good man. Now straight home, mind. Don't do anything stupid.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he winces, every inch of him sighs with the realization of his mistake.

Grantaire’s body goes rigid beneath his hand.

“Oh?” Grantaire mutters, facing away from him.

“Grantaire-” Bahorel begins.

Grantaire whirls around with a look of deep amusement in his eyes. His grin is almost manic, offset by a bitterness too wracked with self loathing to ignore. His limbs are quaking with the anticipation of his spiel, as if the words themselves are bubbling up within him, jostling to break the surface.

“Grantaire, you're-” Bahorel says again.

“No, dear Bahorel, you're absolutely right, the deuce! As per usual!” Grantaire cries, his voice dripping with insincerity. “So attentive of you to, to warn me against doing something stupid. Oh, as I am wont to do indeed! Bah, you know me so well!”

He is gabbling now, unable to stop himself as words spew out of him, harsher and louder with the rush of the Seine in his ears and the sympathetic grimaces of the blank faces passing him by. His hands flail wildly, desperately, in vast gestures fit for the opera. His performance is all bravado, undercut by deep hurt. Already, the guilt is rising like bile in his throat.

“Ah, alas, without you I would topple into the river! Without you I would, ah whoopsadaisy! And fall in front of every trap I see, I should be so lucky. Ever so sorry, my lord, I didn't realize you'd called for the fool! No matter, no bother, I'll just skip on over, shall I? Yes, you call for the fool, and here I am! In my red stockings and my JANGLY HAT!”

“GRANTAIRE!” Bahorel's cry silences him.

Bahorel is not an astute man by any means, nor is he concerned with the ‘how’s and the ‘why’s of the world. But he is kind. And it does not take him more than a moment to see through Grantaire's hollow little show.

His friend's wandering eyes are guilty and exhausted, and full of despair. He envelopes Grantaire in an embrace.

For a moment, Grantaire is still, then his weight shifts almost imperceptibly against Bahorel's sturdy form.

“You're not a fool,” says Bahorel carefully. “I know that's what this is really about. But I don't think that. And I'd never say what he said…I'm not even certain he meant it himself.”

He holds Grantaire at arm's length, staring him in the eyes. Grantaire shifts uncomfortably and looks at the floor.

“Go home, Grantaire. Okay? Get some sleep. Have some fucking water for God's sake. And tomorrow you can watch whilst I punch that pompous bastard in the mouth.”

He says it with an easy smile on his lips, but Grantaire does not laugh. He just sniffles, wipes his nose on his sleeve, and looks at the floor.

“I'll go home,” he mumbles.

#SAVE ME CANON ERA ENJOLTAIRE #in which Enjolras is actually disgusted by Grantaire #in which Grantaire would actually genuinely just rather die than tell Enjolras he's in love with him #in which Enjolras realises Grantaire's capabilities and is frustrated by his blatant waste of potential #in which Enjolras fleetingly meets his mathc #in which Enjolras fucking HATES slowly falling in love but can't do anything to stop it #and then has to reckon with OH GOD WHY MUST I BE IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE SO HORRENDOUSLY IMPRACTICAL #les mis #les miserables #victor hugo #enjoltaire #fanfiction

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pealeii · 4 months

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ok only if you want but can yuppie give me a rundown of the les mis fandom/ characters? Like who is enjolras and why do people ship him with the guy whose name starts with g and ends with taire? Idk I remember the plot of valjean stealing bread then taking care of a dead lady's daughter while running from the worst cop ever add the daughter like falls in love with eddie redmayne but i remember none of the freedom guys lol.

Again, only if you want to but i keep seeing les mis on my dash and I'm genuinely curious!

HAHAHAHA OKAY

I don’t feel super qualified to answer this cuz I haven’t read all of the book yet, but I LOVE the musical and thank you for indulging me cuz this musical has my heart, body, and soul

So your first question is about Enjolras and Grantaire. One of the storylines in Les Mis is about the June Rebellion, which was an anti-monarchist uprising (that actually happened irl but that’s besides the point.) In the show, Enjolras is the intense and passionate leader of this revolution. He has a bunch of friends who have joined in his cause. One of them is Marius (played by Eddie Redmayne in the 2012 movie) who falls in love with this girl (Cosette) who happens to be the adoptive daughter of a known convict. But we’ll get to that later. So Marius comes in being all “I’M IN LOVE” and Enjolras is like “NO WTF I DONT CARE STICK TO THE PROGRAM WE ARE TRYING TO REVOLT 👏 AGAINST 👏 THE 👏MONARCHS 👏 AND FREE 👏 THE 👏 PEOPLE”

So Enjolras is all revolution, no nonsense. And all the other schoolboys (the barricade boys) are on his side. But then there’s Grantaire, who believes in nothing and is constantly drunk. Depending on the version, but in the book especially, it’s pretty clear that he is hopelessly in love with Enjolras. Again, Enjolras is taking none of that cuz he’s in love with France. In the book, there’s an interaction between them where Enjolras says “You don’t believe in anything.” And Grantaire says “I believe in you.”

So the rebellion culminates in the boys building a massive barricade, waiting there to fight the soldiers that oppose them, for the freedom of the people. No matter how passionate and strong-willed the boys of the revolution are, it is sadly hopeless. The soldiers and policeman kill them. The last one to die is Enjolras, triumphant till the end. But wait! While the guards are closing in on Enjolras, who pops up, drunk and out-of-it but GRANTAIRE HIMSELF. He goes over and asks if he can stand by Enjolras (“Permets-tu?” in the original French book. Which roughly means “Do you permit it?”) They take each other’s hands and DIE TOGETHER so no wonder ppl ship them.

As for Marius and the girl he likes. The girl is Cosette, whose mother was a woman living in poverty and fending for herself named Fantine. She could not take care of Cosette, so a kind man named Jean Valjean took her as his own. And Fantine passes :(

But a lil thing about Jean Valjean is that he stole some bread to save his sister’s child but was CAUGHT so he spent 19 years imprisoned. After that, his porale began but it WASNT ENOUGH cuz the guy who oversaw those prisoners was INSPECTOR JAVERT, a man who made it his life mission (he thinks it was God-ordained as well) to track down and capture Jean Valjean. So Jean Valjean has been relentlessly pursued by Javert ever since. And when Valjean finally gets the chance to end Javert’s life and end this chase, he spares him, shows him mercy. Javert, in his dedication to the law and his ONE mission, cannot take this mercy, and throws himself off a bridge. :{

The barricade boys have fallen, Javert has fallen. And eventually, Valjean will be taken from the world as well.

And Cosette and Marius get married yayyyyyyy

#woah this is WAY longer than i meant #it to be #this is by no means the whole plot #answered asks #rook :)#les mis #<- sure i’ll tag it #suicide mention

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inmarbleimmobility · 17 days

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I'd love to know more about 'qui attendions la gloire'!!

YAY i was hoping someone would ask about this one!!! it's the one i'm most actively working on (actively is uhhh maybe a stretch but Look.) ok so basically it's a modern au where les amis are international level competitive figure skaters?? bc skating is one of my hyperfixations so it's extremely self-indulgent but ah well!

one of my (many) gripes with figure skating is that there's no established way for trans athletes to compete in the division matching their gender identity, plus i find the idea of trans enjolras compelling, so essentially i put those two things in a bottle and shook 'em up until i got les amis fighting to get the official rules changed so enjolras and other trans skaters can compete!!

snippet/hypothetical ao3 summary:

Grantaire thinks sometimes, in his lower moments, about how different the course of his life might have been if he hadn’t happened to look up at that exact instant. Would he have been a better skater without an impossible ideal to compare himself to, or would he simply have latched on to someone else? Would he have quit skating when the joy of it had left him? Would he be happier now, doing something - anything - else?

He’ll never know, because he had happened to look up at the exact moment a blond teenager had skated past, setting up for a warmup jumping pass, and the rest may as well have been history.

#yes i had a yuri on ice phase in 2018 WHAT ABOUT IT.#also i had way too much fun figuring out what disciplines everyone would skate in #and what irl skaters they'd be most like #and what type of music they'd skate to #now if only i'd write the damn thing!#asks #les mis #e/R #i need a writing tag

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a-demain · 4 months

Text

Warmth

Hi, this is my first fic for Les Mis.

(Additionally, this is the first fic I've ever shared on Tumblr.

Both of these things are giving me such anxiety that I'm posting it from an alternative account.)

I hope you enjoy!

exR, pining, emotional constipation, emotional breakthroughs, Grantaire gets shocked into silence.

Warmth

Telling someone you love them is not a walk in the park. Fortunately, Grantaire is there to throw one double entendre too many.

There’s an open-air photo exhibition in the park and, despite the late hour and the cold, Grantaire clearly can’t resist it. He keeps stopping to look at every other displayed work and, as a result, considerably slows down their pace. Enjolras wouldn’t mind – he wouldn’t be opposed to looking at the exhibition himself, even though his interest in art cannot match Grantaire's – if the freezing air wasn’t starting to seep through his clothing and cling to his skin.

“Can we go a little faster? I’m really cold.”

It’s a little past midnight and they’re walking from the Musain to Grantaire’s place so Enjolras can collect the posters and banners Grantaire and Jehan have spent the week preparing for the protest tomorrow. The protest is also the reason why the meeting tonight ended later than usual and Enjolras is tired, cold, and hungry, and completely unmoved by art of any kind. He curls his cold fingers into his palms in his pockets – he must’ve left his gloves at the Musain – and watches Grantaire finally tear himself away from the photos and walk towards him.

“Oh, I can warm you up if you’d like, Ange,” he says with a suggestive wink.

Enjolras turns his head away from him and looks at the dark road before them as they resume walking. He’s not serious, he tells himself, as always – as he’s been doing for months, trying to reason with his heart and stop it from absurd, pointless, futile hoping every time Grantaire hits him with one of his trademark crude jokes, double entendres and pick-up lines. He’s not serious. You can’t have this. He doesn’t mea--

Something inside him snaps.

“Can you?” he hears himself say.

There’s a surprised intake of breath to his left and then silence.

Enjolras feels like there’s a silence inside him, too. Suddenly, there is no trace of the anguish and the tempestuous emotions that had been tearing him apart in recent months; it’s like someone closed the window in a blizzard. He feels that whatever has snapped keeps breaking, like a fracture that runs across the surface of the ice, slowly forming a rift. He has no idea why he said what he just did, nor how he expects Grantaire to respond (although he knows how he’d like Grantaire to respond. You can’t have this, you can’t have this, drones on the old voice in his head. But Enjolras is cold and tired and hungry and starved. It’s been two years. It’s been most of his life. It’s been every time he had feelings for someone).

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t apologize.”

He stops suddenly and so does Grantaire, who looks at him, his expression tense and unsure.

“Don’t say things like this when you don’t mean them,” says Enjolras, his own voice sounding alien to him, the words, clear and sharp, leaving his mouth without the participation of his consciousness. Suddenly, he feels his throat constrict and his jaws clench together, and he can’t speak any more. He’s never considered telling Grantaire how he feels about him; he’s never even told any of his friends. Admitting that he’s not immune to Grantaire’s comments hints at these hidden feelings and pulls them close to the surface, making him feel exposed and vulnerable, and completely out of his element. He takes a deep breath to calm himself and stares ahead, still unable to talk and feeling too unsteady to look at Grantaire.

Next to him, Grantaire is still silent, though Enjolras can feel he's watching him. A moment passes.

“What if I do mean them?” asks Grantaire quietly.

This shocks Enjolras enough to make him face Grantaire. Of all things he could expect to hear from him, this isn’t one of them.

“What then, Enjolras?” insist Grantaire, his eyes serious and a little desperate, like it costs him a lot to say it.

Enjolras blinks. His heart thuds in his chest and he feels as if he’s watching himself from the outside, like someone else has taken control of his body. Someone who hasn’t been made feel, many times throughout the years, that he was too different, too intense, too serious, too much to be loved and wanted; that he could only be valued and respected for the skills that made him a good leader and activist, but rarely appreciated and needed as a friend, a human being. Someone who hasn’t been coping by trying to ignore his need for closeness and affection and hoping he’d never fall in love, convinced he could never be loved back -- but failed and fell for Grantaire, spending two years hopelessly consumed by feelings that the rare, short-lived crushes he had in the past couldn’t compare to.

He feels like it’s not him but that person who he doesn't recognize who now calmly takes a step towards Grantaire, lays a hand on his shoulder, leans in, and kisses him on the lips.

Grantaire stops breathing and goes stiff and Enjolras immediately breaks the kiss, worried that he’s misread the situation and embarassed by the lapse in his usual restraint. Grantaire blinks at him and something wild flashes in his eyes. His hands slide into Enjolras’s hair, he pulls him back down and kisses him fiercely. Enjolras stumbles a little and reflexively grabs Grantaire’s shoulders for balance and Grantaire wraps an arm around his waist, which both helps Enjolras steady and presses him tight to Grantaire’s chest. Enjolras kisses back dizzily, overwhelmed by the closeness and the waves of the long-suppressed emotions that have suddenly been set free. He holds onto Grantaire and Grantaire holds him and they kiss and kiss until they’re both breathless.

Grantaire doesn’t seem interested in letting him go, when the kiss ends; he watches Enjolras with an expression of open tenderness and wonder, his arm still wrapped around his waist, his thumb slowly caressing his cheek.

“What now?” he whispers eventually with a smile. Enjolras huffs a quiet laugh. He doesn’t know. “Grantaire does mean it, actually, and you can have it” isn’t a scenario he considered likely or planned for.

“What do you want?”

Grantaire watches him for a moment. He blinks a few times, breaking eye contact and looking down for a moment and visibly gathering himself before he draws a shaky breath and speaks.

“I’ve been in love with you since I met you.”

It’s not a proper answer to the question. It’s everything Enjolras ever wanted to hear.

“I’ve been in love with you for two years,” he says. “I thought I had no chance with you.”

Grantaire throws his head back and barks an incredulous laugh. “Hah, no, Enjolras, that was never a possibility,” he says, “but I thought the same of you, so I can’t complain. Okay,” he says taking a step back and releasing Enjolras from his embrace, “let’s get out of the cold. We don’t want you to catch the flu before the protest.” He extends a hand, looking at him a little shyly.

Enjolras takes his hand and they resume walking down the lane.

“I’m not cold anymore, actually.”

“Oh, you aren’t?”

“Mmm.”

“So I can warm you up.”

“So it seems.”

#exr #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #enjolras/grantaire #les mis #les miserables #fanfic #modern au

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stardancerluv · 1 year

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A Time to Love and to Fight

Part 16

Summary: Things…take a turn for Enjolras and his girl.

Notes/Warning: 18 & over please! This is a long chapter!

Reader is roughed up by Royal French soldiers, fingering, PV sex, implied soft!dom Enjolras, implied/squint breeding!kink with Enjolras, old school/dated thoughts about the male body, overall angst.

Thank you, for reading! Be nice! Feedback is welcome! Want to be tagged, please let me know! ❤️ and of course…Enjoy!

French Translations

My sweet angel. - Mon doux ange

Allow me to look upon your beauty. - Permettez-moi de contempler votre beauté.

But angel, but love I may be facing battle tomorrow and make you widower by days end. - Mais mon ange, mais mon amour, je pourrais affronter la bataille demain et te rendre veuf d'ici la fin des jours.

By a lie, a man... annihilates his dignity as a man —- Quote from Immanuel Kant

“Enjolras, my dear comrade look I understand he meant alot to you.” Grantaire pressed his lips together, Enjolras saw a sympathetic look washed over his comrade’s face. “He also helped where he could.”

The man glanced at the others before he looked back up at him. “But in the end, how does his passing effect us?”

Annoyance curled hotly in the pit of Enjolras’s stomach. He pushed himself off where he had been perching and walked over. “Simply, Lamarque was one of the last heroes of old that stood for the common man.”

Some of the men nodded, a few shrugged.

“Look,” Enjolras continued. “the people are just looking for reason to raise up. If we can get the Royal army to do something, perhaps we can provoke them and the people will come to our cause.”

“It’s never that easy.” His friend waved his hand around dismissively. “We’d do that and die.” Grantaire continued and crossed his arms in front of himself.

Enjolras leaned on the table, it creaked under this weight. He lowered his voice. “There’s bound to be a huge demonstration at his funeral. If we plan this right, what we will do now, will make history. France will finally be on its way to being a better place.”

******

With your heart in your throat, you hurried down the stairs and out of the building. How you would have loved to look up and see Enjolras’s face one more time but he had said that would not be a good idea. The quicker you got to the market and back home the better, he had said. You agreed. As you crossed the small courtyard your grip on the sack tightened while your heart squeezed.

You were grateful that the market was a few blocks away. Once there, you finally took a moment to stop, you had grown breathless in your haste. Glancing around, you were surprised at the number of tables that were already set up at that early hour.

Finding one to your liking you went over and found some soft sweet treats. These would be perfect for good cover. The seller wrapped them up and you gently placed them in your sack before turning and finally heading back home. You had never been away from home by yourself for so long. It was exciting.

******

Enjolras was helping to prepare. The guns, he and his comrades had needed to be cleaned. There could be no mistakes, no mishaps. He still had not taken a moment to properly mourn the passing of the man who had been like a second father to him. There was no time for sentiment. He would mourn later.

The bristles of the brush scrapped against the metal, taking away any dust or dirt. The oil cleaned what had grown dull. With a few quick moves, once again the gun was reassembled and ready to defend the life of the man who carried it. Enjolras did this with a rhythm. In the back of his mind he kept track of how many he had taken apart, cleaned and rebuilt. As the number grew, the more relaxed he grew for what would take place at the funeral.

“Enjolras,” He felt a hand on his shoulder, he flinched. “Enjolras.” The man repeated his named. He resisted making a sound of exasperation. Turning to finally see who it was and he smiled at the barman.

“Despiat? Early isn’t it?” Enjolras let out a sound of amusement but which was actually more of a twisted laugh. As he looked the lanky, barman up and down.

The man nodded. “Drinks and merriment are for later.” His mouth form a line. “But I wanted to give you what I could.”

That’s when Enjolras saw the small wooden box in the man’s worn hands.

******

A small smile played on your lips, as you tightened your shawl around your shoulders. You felt good, you secured the sweets and would be home shortly. The cover you and Enjolras had come up with was perfect.

Finally, you were not terribly far from home so as you walked along you let yourself relax. Memories of the night before swirled around in your minds eye.

You felt as your cheeks flushed at the memories. You were a real woman now you supposed, a small smile play on your lips. Images of him over you, blossomed in your mind’s eye. His curls were in disarray, you could practically feel the warmth of his breath. It made you tingle all over. Your fingertips could still feel the scruffiness his facial hair. You had fallen asleep with your fingers entwined, that had been nice.

A warmth had come over as your heart picked up its pace.

A scream was wrenched from you as hands grabbed you and felt yourself being pulled away. You began to struggle and laughter filled your ears. “Let me go!” You managed.

Your wind was knocked out of you as the banged you against as wall. Terrified, you looked around, they had pulled you into an alley.

“So what is a pretty girl like you walking the streets alone?”

You swallowed as you looked up at your assailants. Fear wrapped itself around your heart. Two royal soldiers were looming above you. Words got stuck in your mouth.

“Answer me.”

You looked from one to the other. Pain flashed hot as it burst across your face. The silent one smacked you. Without thinking you dropped the sack and placed a hand to your cheek.

“Don’t make me ask you again.” The one sneered.

“I…I was just grabbing something sweet for my mama, she’s ill.”

“So that’s whats in here.” The silent one finally spoke, holding up the sack.

“Yes. Please don’t.” You grabbed at it.

“Please don’t what?” The solider held up the sack, cackling.

“My mama is ill.” Your voice cracked.

You watched as they leaned together, one opened the sack. The one who spoke first looked at you. “There is more then one in there.”

“Yes.” You would not cry, you would not cry ; you repeated to yourself.

“Do you have more then one mama?”

Confusion filled you. You looked from one to another.

You yelped they pushed you against the wall.

“No, why?”

“You have more then one sweet in there.”

“That was…” You looked down, you knew what would happen now. Your heart sank.

“What girl we didn’t hear you?” You winced as one grabbed your upper arm.

You eyes flew up to look at him.

“Ow!” The solider howled and let go of your arm, you fell back against the wall.

You glanced over, your eyes widened when you saw Gavroche. He was throwing rocks.

“Run, girl!” He exclaimed and he threw a few more rocks. He glanced towards you and then back at the soldiers, he threw a more rocks. They forgot about you. The two of them turned and moved closer towards him. He turned and ran, they followed like dogs on a hunt.

******

Greta’s bony fingers tilted your face up to look it over. “You were so foolish.” She said in a huff, then pulled you close.

You desperately wanted to run away. You wanted to scream.

“Next time, come to me and I will bake something special for the you and your mother.”

“I know. I know.”

“Now go and lay down you must be in an awful state.” The old woman pulled back, her features finally softening. “We will not tell her.”

Your eyes watered. “Yes. Thank you.”

Taking the back stairs two at time, you were upstairs and at the door to your room in no time. Though, on the tips pf your toes, holding your breath you went to the closed door of your mama’s room. Your breathing was still was heavy but significantly better then its been in ages. With that giving you some comfort you went back to your room.

*******

Enjolras, sat with a book in front of him. He was in his usual corner of the tavern. Glancing out the window, he could see the sun day finally began to hang low in the sky. Part of him was eager to run, go and see you. Not caring what it would cause or do. Last night, he had pledged himself to you.

His concern over what may unfold around him, gave him pause. You were the reason for this. Sure, he had meant all he said to his comrades, to the others for them to harness their fears so that tomorrow could bring them a victory.

So with the sun setting and shadows stretching across the cobblestone streets, he read from a book the general had given him shortly after meeting. It had helped shaped him into the man he was today. It was a book, that shared philosophy of Immanuel Kant. The pages had grown worn from how many times he had read and read it. There was never a time this book didn’t give him a lesson or made him face some uncomfortable part of himself.

When he picked up the book today, he was hoping for a final moment of guidance. As his eyes moved across the sentences, he could practically hear the general’s voice. He remembered their past discussions.

His heart stilled as he read, By a lie, a man... annihilates his dignity as a man. As strong as if you were before him, he could see you in his mind’s eye.

“Enjolras, Enjolras.”

Inwardly he sighed, he should have stayed at the boarding house. A few moments alone, was all he truly wanted. Turning, he placed his finger in and closed the book around it.

“Yes, Gavroche.”

“It’s, it’s…” The young boy struggled and took several deep breathes.

“Calm down, I am sure everything is alright.” Enjolras could already feel a knot form in the pit of his stomach.

The boy shook his head. “No Enjolras, it’s the girl.” He scratched the back of his head, swallowing again. “The girl you had me walk home. Royal guards were roughing her up.”

Enjolras jumped to his feet. Distantly, he realized the book fell to the floor. He reached for it and stuffed it into his coat.” “What happened? Did they take her away.”

The boy shook his head. “No, I was walking by. I saw what was happening. I threw rocks at them.” The boy stood a little taller, and beamed up at him.

“What happened then?” His mouth grew dry.

“They gave chase.”

Enjolras looked the boy up and down. He appeared alright.

“I gave them the slip.” He cackled. “I waited and waited before finally creeping out from where I hid. I came straight from there to see you.”

Enjolras glanced behind them and then back at the boy.

“Tell the comrades, I had an urgent matter and will be back soon.”

******

After walking back to your room, you shed your soiled dress. In only your chemise exhaustion washed over you. You barely pulled your boots off when you fell fast asleep.

For the first time in what felt like far too long, Greta tended to you in your room. She felt your mama’s thoughts had best to remain clam. So what happened between and the soldiers would remain between the two of you. She served you lunch and then dinner in your room.

Still grappling all that you had to gone through emotionally, time was foggy with sleep. The soldiers had done put you in quite the emotional state.

With your mind and thoughts finally clear, it was an inky sky outside your window that greeted you. Feeling stifled, you tore your blankets aside. You legs felt wobbly as you began to pace. You didn’t know what to do. Should you go to the tavern looking for Enjolras or should you stay here. Sure, he said he’d visit in the garden but that was before the soldiers and what Gavroche did.

Wincing, you bit your lip. On quiet steps, grabbing a candle you went into the room reserved for bathing. Upon seeing your reflection, you clasped your hand over your mouth.

Your cheek was swollen; a bruise was forming where he had stuck your face. Tears prickled your eyes. The light flickered from the candle as your hand had begun to tremble. You immediately put the candle down. Brushing your sleeves aside, you chewed on your bottom lip as you saw the shadow of a bruises forming on your arms.

If you were honest with yourself there was also a soreness between your legs. Without thinking, you placed a hand there. Gently cupping yourself, you winced but oddly it felt good. Inhaling sharply and closing your eyes, scattered moments of the intimacy you shared with Enjolras, came to you. Your heartbeat grew faster.

Holding yourself brought a strain from your arms. You wondered if it was because of the bruises that circled your upper arms. You safely assumed that since they pushed you harshly against the stone wall, there was probably the smudges of bruises there as well.

The memory of the soldiers replaced the wonderful memories with Enjolras and it made your stomach churn.

Enjolras! You gasped. Would Gavroche tell him, you wondered. Oh, had Gavroche even been able to get away. You made a wish and truly hoped he had. You had to know.

Reaching up you brought down some powder. Mama, had used it when parties and dinner among friends lit up and filled this house with laughter and loud discussions. She loved, to look as pristine as possible. You smiled at the memory.

Father always told her she was his lovely doll, that she didn’t need any of the the powder or the rouge but she clung on hard to these traditions. Now, though to protect the heart of her beloved, you began dusting body your body. Before going back to your room and sprinkling some of the perfumed powder on, you gave your cheeks a kiss from the rouge.

******

He should just go to the front door, he wanted to take you away from here. Away from all of this. At this moment, he could not. Especially, with what would take place tomorrow, he couldn’t.

Once in the garden and after he dusted himself off. Seeing a few pebbles, he grabbed those. He saw what he hoped, was the flickering light of a candle, this he had to risk. He threw a few of them at your window. You didn’t come to the window, but the candle didn’t snuff out. His heart threatened to burst from his chest. He threw a few more.

His heart squeezed as he saw you come to the window. Turning, he went to lean against the will, he exhaled. He had not realized he was holding his breath.

******

Silly pigeon, you mused as sat at your vanity braiding your hair. Birds appeared to love scratching at your window. Grabbing a ribbon you used it to keep the braid in place.

Hearing the scuffle at the window again, turning where you sat you were prepared to shoo a bird away. Confusion, washed over you. Were those pebbles?

Getting up, you went to the window. Enjolras, was there! Warmth and happiness immediately filled you. Turning, and sitting, you pulled then fastened on your boots. Eyeing the two dresses you laid out, you chose your deep blue one. With butterflies in your stomach you crept out to him.

******

Hearing the ruffling in the leaves, he knew you were there. Stepping forward, he remained under the huge willow.

“Enjolras!” You whispered.

He smiled, you pulled a soft sound from him as you practically knocked him over your enthusiasm. He wrapped his arms around you. “Mon doux ange.” He murmured into your hair.

You smiled up at him. “I am so glad you are here.”

Inwardly, all of him stilled seeing how even in the moonlight he could see how the powder laid on you. “Permettez-moi de contempler votre beauté.

You nodded. Pulling back a mask of unease covered your face. “Enjolras, tell me Gavroche is alright?” You turned around slowly before facing him again.

“My sweet girl knows that I know.” You and the dress did a fair job, but it still made him ill to know this happened to you.

You nodded again, looking away.

He closed the distance between the two of you. Easily, he pulled you against him. “Don’t look away from me.” He swallowed; in the moonlight he saw how your eyes flashed as you looked up at him. “I had not meant for my words or sentiment to sound so harsh.” He let his arms around you loosen. Just being around you again and he saw differences.

“Don’t.” He felt as you moved against him, you brought his arms tighter. “In your arms, is the only place I feel safe.”

He gingerly brought his finger tips up, just under the swelling. “But look” The finger you placed on his lips, stole his words.

“We were apart.”

Finally, he was the one who nodded.

You lips were soft when they met his. Hesitation, filled him as he only barely pressed his lips against yours.

******

Anguish filled you. You couldn’t explain all that swirled around inside of you. “Enjolras. I need your kisses.” A desperation that clawed at your heart.

“There is a bruise.” His thumb gently grazed where the swell started.

You would not let what they did make you flinch under your love’s touch. “Make me forget it.”

He kissed you, as his lips met yours once again his arms tightened. You clung onto him.

******

“These kisses will be my undoing love.” Enjolras told you later. How much later, he truly didn’t know. Clouds had passed over head, stars had continued to twinkle and the moon moved distinctly higher in the sky.

“Then we shall become undone together.” You whispered, your fingers fluttering in his curls.

“Yes, but only mere day after making you my heart I do not want to rut in you like an animal on the ground.”

“You won’t, this is our special escape our secret place.”

“Mais mon ange, mais mon amour, je pourrais affronter la bataille demain et te rendre veuf d'ici la fin des jours.”

“Alors, mon amour, ne me fais pas l'amour.”

Silently he eased you from his arms to the soft moss beside the two of you. His jacket was already folded and to the side of the tree. He brought his face close to yours, kissing you softly. “Are you sure angel?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

Kissing you again, he opened his vest. Only the did he allow one of his hands to smooth over the softness of your curves. In doing so, his arousal which blossomed while kissing you was growing stronger, making his heart thud harder in his chest. First, slowly he loosened the bow in front of your dress, so his access to your bosom was to his liking.

With his stomach, tightening he met your eyes above where your heart beat as hard as his own. “Love, remember that unlike the night before, your sweet sounds cannot be terribly loud. I do not wish for us to have to explain things.”

You nodded. “Yes, I will be careful.”

He hands caressed at you, loving how through the soft cotton of your dress he could feel the erect buds of your nipples. Your breathing shallower and a soft sound was pressed from your lips.

“Feel good?” He whispered.

You nodded. “Yes.” You managed to breath out.

Gently pulling the fabric down one of your breasts was freed, not hesitating any longer he placed kisses and licked at your nipple. Your fingers in his hair brought a tremble from him.

He could not be slow and languid tonight, he was sure you felt the same. As he licked and nipped at you, he brought up the skirts of your dress. Seeking a breath, seeing your soft legs in just their stockings and boots, his arousal pressed hotly against his trousers.

He glanced up and met your eyes, “You are magnificent. Please free yourself from under undergarment that causes a delicate barrier between us.” He softly requested.

Shifting, and lifting your hips, he bit down onto his bottom lip as once again your mound, your soft center was there for him. He eased himself upon you, so he could look into your eyes. Gently, he moved his hand from caressing your hip went and cupping you softly. He sighed doing so.

“Thank you, my love.” He whispered.

He felt as you gently rubbed against him.

“How do you feel there my love? I am a brute, I have not even asked if you are alright.”

A soft, shy peel of laughter came from you, that made his heart beat in a manner different then he was accustomed to but very much welcome.

“Mon amour, at the memory of you I have only felt achy flutters and a strong desire to feel you once again.” In the moonlight, even under the powder and false blush, he could see your cheeks darken further. “If I may be so bold?” Your eyes twinkled.

“Yes, love. I do love hearing these sweet words of your desire.” He replied kissing you, while he did he gave you a soft possessive squeeze.

It was muted because of the kiss, but he practically paused in kissing you to smile. He relished what he could pull from you. Eager, he slipped two fingers between your soft folds. They were greeted by soft warmth. You were more then ready with the wetness that had easily flowed from your need of him. He moved his fingers over you.

He delighted in watching as you writhed or hearing the small little moans came from you. Once again, he found the little bud between your soft folds, he could see and feel as you grew more excited under his touch. It was beautiful. It made him harder then before. He could not wait any longer.

Moving back, he placed his hands on his trousers. His hand trembled as he undid the buttons. Easing himself between your legs. Opening his trousers and inhaling he took himself out.

“Enjolras?” You whisper, raising yourself up onto your elbows.

He grew harder seeing you like this.

“Yes, angel.”

“May I feel you?”

His stomach tightened, he nodded. “You may.”

Sitting up, he gently took your hand to him. “Be very gentle.”

“I will.”

His breath shallowed further as your hand explored him. He brought his hand over yours, you smiled. “So very different. But I like it.” He gently drew you down to his balls.

“This love, is where the spark of life begins.” With his hand, he help you cup him.

A soft sound came from you that made his stomach tighten deliciously.

“They feel quite heavy and full.”

Gently, you squeezed. It sent sparks of pleasure through him. His excitement to spill in you grew inside of him.

Your eyes, heavy lidded met his. “I can’t wait any longer. I need you Enjolras.”

You laid back down, and it appeared as if you actually opened yourself further for him.

Leaning on his one hand, he drew closer you as he held himself in the other. Gently he, slipped himself between you petal soft folds. A soft moan came from both of you as anticipation fell over the two of you.

He bit his bottom lip to suppress a moan as he slid into you. You whimpered and writhed under him, it felt amazing but he had to be sure.

“Angel, you ok?” Once again you felt so right.

“Yes, feels so good.”

With one arm he held you close as he began to slide in and out of you, while with the other he braced himself against the soft ground under the two of you. He moaned as he felt you pulled him even closer.

“Yes. Yes.” He murmured. “My angel.” He panted.

Hearing you pant his name as you clung to him added to his excitement. “I’m here.”

Bringing your lips to his, your lips and tongues expressed and echoed your bodies. Breathes were shortened while your bodies followed the dance of their passion.

He could feel as your body tightening around him, making him break the kiss and practically growl with pleasure into your shoulder.

You clung harder to him, whimpering. “ am so close, Enjolras…Enjolras.” You panted and the you met his body and spasmed with your pleasure.

“Yes. Yes.” He panted and soon, he felt himself cumming hard and deep within you. It felt so good. Out of breath he met your eyes and your lips met then as you both kissed each other down from the passion that erupted between the two of you.

*******

The trunk of the willow was firm and gave him good support as he sat with his back against it. You were curled up to his side, you had dozed off for a small amount of time. He let you. It gave him time to think. It would probably be best if you stayed there. In case something did happen. He didn’t want those at the boarding house to hold you responsible.

Feeling you stir, he knew that soon he would have to leave. He glanced down at you, he gave you a soft smile.

“Hello sleepy angel.”

Your lashes fluttered as you met his eyes. “Hi.” You replied softly.

He smiled broader as you played with one of the buttons on his vest.

“You have to go soon, don’t you?”

“I do.”

*****

Your heart lurched painfully. His words were whispered in your head. That he may make you a widow tomorrow. You knew he was always prepared to die, but what could possibly be happening tomorrow.

You played with one of the buttons of his vest, nervousness blossomed in you. He gave you a bigger smile, it almost melted away your worries.

“What is happening tomorrow?” You finally felt brave enough to ask.

“General Lamarque has died.”

“What? He was a hero. My father had always referred to him as a good man.” You recalled moments where your father spoke of how he was a hero of France.

He nodded. “He had taken ill, it finally claimed him.” He swallowed.

“Oh.” You whispered.

“I have to say it again, your father was a smart man. I certainly believe him and I would have gotten along.”

You were certain, your father would have loved to have a man like Enjolras courting you. You chewed on the inside of your cheek. You nodded. “I do believe the two of you would have.”

“Tomorrow is General Lamarque’s funeral.”

Concern, shot through you making you sit up. There would be so many Royal Guards. What could he and his comrades be up to.

“What are you and the others doing?” The words flew out of your mouth before you could stop them. Fear blossomed and formed knots in your stomach. You covered your mouth, you shot Enjolras a look before looking down at your lap, you brought your hands to rest there.

“I’m sorry. That’s not my place…I just..after today the Royal Army really scared me and…and I worry about you.” You glanced at him.

Moving from the tree, he was pulled you close. You felt as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know you’re worried.”

You nodded and looked at him, tears prickled your eyes.

“I will come back to you. Tomorrow night, I will be holding you here.” He whispered.

“You better.”

Shifting, you grabbed at your braided hair. Loosening the ribbon, you undid the bow. You made a tight bow on one of the eyelets of his vest.

“Now, you will have part of me with you.”

He gave you a half smile, his thumb grazed it gently. “Yes, you will be.”

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kjack89 · 9 months

Text

Two Sides to Every Story

Just a little modern AU E/R fluff for a Sunday night.

The Musain August 18, 2023 10:15am

“God, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungover,” Bossuet groaned as he pulled open the door to the Musain, automatically taking a step back to let Joly in first.

Joly just laughed. “You say that every weekend,” he pointed out. “Which means there’s probably a lesson in there about hanging out with Grantaire and its long-term effect on our livers.”

Bossuet just grunted an acknowledgement. “Right, so, you get the drinks, and I’ll find Grantaire?” he suggested.

“Perfect.”

It wasn’t like Grantaire was hard to spot by any stretch of the imagination, but there was a greater than passing chance that he hadn’t made it in yet, or had fallen asleep in the back room, or was emptying his stomach in the bathroom.

But worse, to Bossuet’s immediate irritation, Grantaire was awake, seemingly hangover-free, and on the phone. He gave Bossuet a wave when he saw him, but didn’t hang up. “Yeah, no, I totally get it,” he said, his tone making it entirely obvious who he was talking to, which only made Bossuet’s irritation grow. “Takeout’s fine, you know me, I’m flexible.” He winked at Bossuet, who rolled his eyes. “In more ways than one.”

“No, no, don’t mind me, I’ll just sit here listening to you badly propositioning your boyfriend,” Bossuet grumbled, though despite his irritation and raging hangover, he didn’t quite sound as sour as he had intended. Probably because he had been wanting this for Grantaire for, like, ever, and at the end of the day, he was a bit of a softie. “Tell Enjolras I say hi.”

“Bossuet says hi,” Grantaire said dutifully, his smile widening at whatever Enjolras said in response. Then he straightened, his smile fading, just slightly. “Oh, sure. Love you.”

He paused, and Bossuet glanced at him, wondering what Enjolras was saying in response to that. After all, it’s not like the man was renowned for his sentimental side—

“Nuh-uh,” Grantaire said, his grin back in full force. “I love you more.”

Turns out when Bossuet was wrong, he was really wrong.

“No, I love you more.”

Bossuet rolled his eyes again, glancing around to see if Joly was on his way with the drinks to rescue him from having to listen to this.

“No, you hang up first.” Grantaire laughed at whatever Enjolras said. “I love you, talk to you tonight.”

He hung up and grinned that same stupid, dopey grin at Bossuet, who just gave him a withering look. “You two are revolting. You know that, right?”

“And here I thought you believed in true love,” Grantaire said innocently, snickering and dodging Bossuet’s half-hearted attempt to sock him in the arm.

His phone buzzed on the table and he reached for it, but Bossuet beat him to it, picking it up and glancing down at the screen to read the text. “From Enjolras,” he read out loud. “I love you the most.”

He mimed throwing up while Grantaire wrestled his phone back from him, laughing. Joly arched an eyebrow as he carried their drinks over to the table. “Do I even want to know?”

“No,” Bossuet and Grantaire said at the same time.

City Hall 10:15am

“Anyway, this is our third meeting with the Civilian Office of Police Accountability, and needless to say, we’re getting nowhere,” Enjolras said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he glanced down the hallway. “And I know tonight’s supposed to be date night, but I was hoping I could talk you into takeout at my place instead.”

“Yeah, no, I totally get it,” Grantaire said immediately, and Enjolras let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. Of course, he’d really had no reason to be worried – this thing with Grantaire was easy in a way that Enjolras had never allowed himself to believe a relationship could be. As easy and as perfect as Enjolras had hoped it would be when he finally let himself admit what seemingly everyone else had already put together on their own. “Takeout’s fine, you know me, I’m flexible.” Enjolras preemptively rolled his eyes, already knowing what was coming by the smirk he heard in Grantaire’s voice. “In more ways than one.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Enjolras said dryly.

Grantaire’s grin sounded particularly self-satisfied when he said, “Bossuet says hi.”

“And Combeferre’s on his way here, so once he arrives, we’ll have ourselves a quorum.” The secretary poked her head out into the hallway and gestured at him, and Enjolras sighed. “Shit, I gotta go. Honestly, I’m tempted to just offer to withdraw the complaint against the department as a whole if it mean they’d actually do fuck all about the officers involved. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Oh, sure,” Grantaire said, much more seriously than before. “I love you.”

Enjolras glanced over as the elevator doors dinged and Combeferre got off. “Uh-huh, you as well,” he said, a little distractedly, because Combeferre looked particularly grim, and Enjolras had a feeling he wasn’t going to like where this conversation was headed.

“Nuh-uh, I love you more.”

“Right,” Enjolras said blankly, tempted to ask if Grantaire was having a stroke. “Anyway—”

“No, I love you more.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed at Grantaire’s slightly gleeful tone. He might not have the slightest idea what Grantaire was doing, but judging by his tone, Grantaire sure did. “We’ll continue this conversation later—” he started warningly.

“No, you hang up first.”

“—no matter how fascinating this display of justification for homicide may be.”

Grantaire had the nerve to laugh. “I love you. Talk to you tonight.”

Enjolras hung up and forced a grimace masquerading as a smile at Combeferre. “You look like you have good news,” he said.

Combeferre just shook his head. “Dare I ask what that was?” he said mildly.

“Absolutely not,” Enjolras said firmly, typing a quick text to Grantaire: I love you the most. “So what’s going on that makes you look like someone’s died?”

“The mayor picked a new police superintendent,” Combeferre said, and Enjolras paused in the middle of composing his follow-up text.

“Well, that’s…” He trailed off, realization hitting. “Meaning COPA’s going to want to delay this until the superintendent gets approved by the Council and sworn in.”

Combeferre nodded. “Most likely.”

Something I want you to remember when I kill you with my bare hands tonight.

Enjolras clicked send on the second text before looking back at Combeferre. “Then in that case, fuck ‘em.”

Combeferre blinked. “Fuck ‘em?” he repeated, more intrigued than concerned. “Dare I ask what precisely you mean by that?”

“I mean fuck ‘em,” Enjolras said. “They’ve been trying to keep this quiet but if all they want to do is obfuscate and delay, let them. They’re not allowed to speak to the press about ongoing investigations, but we sure as fuck can.”

Combeferre nodded slowly. “You want to threaten to go to the press if they won’t move the investigation along.”

Enjolras’s phone dinged and he glanced down at it automatically. You said you were tempted to withdraw the complaint, the text from Grantaire said. Bet you’re not nearly so tempted now.

Enjolras felt a sharp smile stretch across his face. “Well played,” he murmured, so that Combeferre couldn’t quite hear him. “And no, I don’t want to threaten. I want us to do it. We’ll hold a press conference this afternoon, share everything we have. Should make for a nice little mess for the newly minted superintendent to deal with when he starts.”

The hint of a smile played at the corners of Combeferre’s mouth. “Burn it all to the ground,” he said.

Enjolras just shrugged. “Well, since Courfeyrac couldn’t make this meeting, someone’s gotta do it.”

Combeferre’s smile widened, and he gestured for Enjolras to lead the way. “By all means, don’t let me stop you.”

Enjolras grinned as he glanced down at his phone and another text from Grantaire: You still going to kill me?

Jury’s still out, Enjolras sent back, hesitating before adding, But we’ve landed on a strategy of fuck ‘em and burn it all to the ground, so the odds look in your favor.

You’re welcome, Grantaire sent back, and Enjolras rolled his eyes.

If that’s your way of fishing for gratitude, good luck with that. He paused before adding, I love you.

A moment later, just as the secretary was letting them into the office for their meeting, Grantaire responded: Uh-huh, you as well ;)

Enjolras just rolled his eyes as he slipped his phone into his pocket, though he couldn’t help but smile.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #established relationship #fluff #phone calls #text messages #drabble

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