Les Misérables One Shots, Imagines And Preferances

Enjolras - More

A period of extended silence dawned over the house.

“You're telling me what?” Y/n’s voice was what broke it.

“You’ll get used to it,” her mother told her as she set down her embroidery and looked at the girl who was flinging her arms all around the show as some format of a protest.

“I’ve never even met the flipping boy!”

“Language. You’ll meet him tonight,” she told her as she glanced out the window.

“And what if I don’t want to marry this boy?” Y/n said with a questioning look on her face.

“You’ll cope.”

“I shall do no such thing!” Y/n exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You my dear have been betrothed to him from birth and I shall not have this broken off!” her mother told her with a sarcastic and snarky tone injected into the “my dear”.

And with that Lady Y/n Y/l/n ran from the drawing room to the refuge of her bedroom where she indulged in being miserable for three more hours until her mother got her dressed.

Things didn’t seem to be going so well or smoothly in another part of Paris where a certain young man with blond curls was also throwing a tantrum.

“Mother and father, I have never met this lady and yet I am to marry her in a years time! What part of this makes sense to you exactly?”

“All of it Enjy my dear,” his mother spoke quietly to him as she held both his hands.

At roughly eighteen Enjolras still held a soft spot in his marble hardened heart for his mother.

“None of it makes any sense to me mother and I am sorry but could we not call it off? I’m sure it would break the mademoiselle’s heart but it’s breaking mine to do this?” Enjolras squeezed his mothers hands, hoping that she would melt.

“Enjolras. You are too old, far too old to be throwing petty tantrums!” His father broke into the conversation. “You will marry the girl in a year's time and that’s the end of it.”

“I-” Enjolras began.

“I say we all get in the carriage now,” his father suggested, leading the way determined not to have the whole idea of peace with y/d/n y/l/n wrecked.

Yes, the family had had a feud of sorts with the y/l/ns but on agreement that Enjolras and y/n would marry at the age of nineteen had quickly sorted it out.

At eight o’clock they pulled up to the Y/l/n residence in a format of strange worry for Mme Enjolras, rage for Enjolras and Enjolras senior hopefully redemption.

They were shown inside to the parlour where they all took their seats to discover that the lady y/n was indeed not there and nor was her mother.

After five minutes of comfortable silence and Enjolras fiddling with his pocket handkerchief the door peeped open and Mme Y/l/n entered with a beautiful young damsel hanging onto her arm with a sort of fake smile on her arm.

The girl had h/c locks which were artistically tied back into a knot at the back of her head which a little wreath of flowers had been placed around, her eyes were e/c and looked hauntingly bored with the situation, her skin was s/c and quite perfect, the dress she donned was f/c and had large poofy sleeves with a thrilling trim of lace around her neck which echoed on her wrists, her hands were hidden by a pair of polite white netting gloves and her face was quite unmade up.

If Enjolras had told the truth he could have said he was bewitched by the girl or that he thought that she didn’t want to do this.

But in a sudden change of heart when she sat beside him with the same fake polite smile he found his heart sort of melted.

“H-hello,” he stammered. Good lord Enjolras! Way to go! A stutter!

“Good evening,” she responded.

“I’m Enjolras,” he told her as he found a blush spread over his cheeks as she made eye contact with her.

“Y/n,” she held her hand out for him to shake.

And he shook it.

She smiled at him.

And that was the start of a firm friendship.

Weeks turned into months and they both saw more and more of each other and maybe they both developed a secret crush on the other but remained firm friends.

Y/n found herself resenting herself for liking him but still gushing over him in her diary.

Whether it was his hair or eyes or manners or blush he was on every page since the day she met him.

Enjolras however didn’t cope with it quite so well.

He seemed more humane to the amis but his mind was constantly arguing with his heart.

He found that putting his feelings down on a piece of paper was a comfort.

He wrote about all the little things, things she told him, the way her hair entangled itself around the ribbon she had in it, her laugh, everything from how many times she blinked right through to how she laughed with her eyes closed.

He was completely devoted to her.

After five months of firm friendship he proposed.

I shan’t bother you with the details but will tell you of how it went.

Please bear in mind that Enjolras and y/n did not court before this.

Enjolras got down on one knee randomly making y/n take a sharp intake of breath and let her eyes go wide.

“Ok, this is random but will you marry me y/n?” he asked her.

And y/n, being shocked and confused, slapped the poor boy’s face.

Enjolras’s hand flew up to his face and he bit his lip but before he could say anything y/n was already down beside him with her hands cupping his face with a large, stinging, burning mark.

“I’m so sorry! Oh Enjolras I don’t even know what possessed me! Yes, I will marry you and oh I am sorry!” she looked at his face that was burning with possibly shame but it perked up as soon as she let the word “yes” escape her mouth. “I understand if you no longer wish to-”

But she never got to finish her ramble about how he probably wouldn’t want to marry her now as he kissed her.

Y/n gradually stood up with Enjolras’s hands placed on both of her cheeks as he passionately kissed her.

Eventually she wound her arms around his neck and continued to let him kiss her, not finding it in any way gross at all.

Good lord, what happened to the furious feminist?

“I love you,” she confessed as he held her close.

“I love you more,” he smiled at her.

“No you don’t! I love you more!” she argued.

“Oh no you couldn’t!”

And on and on it went…

A/n
I was listening aggressively to "The Clockmaker's Daughter" while writing that so yep. My sister came in and found me mouthing "Clockwork" with a chaotic amount of expression. That was awkward.

Felicity:)