#badlesmisimagines

i googled to confirm, and it is in fact simply called ‘ophelia’, here’s the goodreads page

badlesmisimagines reblogged your post:badlesmisimagines: pilferingapples: ...

Yes! An apartment! One that can, perhaps, have conveniently thin walls! Bless you pilf ! You are a gem

badlesmisimagines x tiktok romance excerpts

Imagine…

For something that is meant to be a lot of fun, this wedding is an absolute drag. You don’t know anyone apart from your date, and it’s such a weird mix of people that you don’t feel like generally mingling will meet with a lot of success. It feels like two people decided they wanted a blowout celebration but couldn’t actually scrape together enough friends between them to make it work, with the result that the vibes are just off. 

And no, it doesn’t help that Theodule has mysteriously vanished after offering to get you another drink. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend—the relationship consists mostly of cheeky handjobs when his elderly relatives aren’t looking—but if you’re going to invite someone to a party, the least you can do is pay attention to them.

Nor is it exactly a secret where he’s gone. He’s been making eyes at the bride all evening, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s off renewing their acquaintance. 

Bored and not quite drunk enough, you make your way over to what is, at least, a hefty drinks table, to procure some more prosecco. Standing there, surrounded by total strangers, you suddenly feel sharply and quite sadly alone.

“Excuse me,” a soft, oily voice behind you says, and you turn, preparing to make boring, polite conversation.

What you see takes your breath away.

The man before you isn’t exactly good-looking. Twenty years ago he might have been mid, and that’s quite a strong might. There isn’t even anything you can discernibly pin down about his features that make them unappealing, apart from the slightly greasy sheen to his skin and the faint yet noticeable stains on his shirt. 

And yet.

Moments ago you were feeling hopelessly alone, adrift in the world. It was just you and your prosecco and no one else understood. And then this man—this creature—looked you in the eye and you abruptly felt seen and recognised, right down to your bones, in a way you never had been before. 

“Hi,” you say, oddly breathy. 

The man’s eyes slowly travel up and down your body, lingering an almost uncomfortable length of time before returning to meet your gaze. “My wife and I saw you from across the room,” he says, and there’s something about his voice, simultaneously oily yet grating, that absolutely drives you wild, “and we were wondering if we could get you a drink.”

Feeling a smile spreading across your face, you theatrically set your glass down and then gesture with both hands that there’s something missing. “Of course. I’m Y/N.”

“Thenardier,” he says, offering you his arm. “But you can call me Nardy.”

~

it didn't sit right with me that he ended up lumped in among the misc. and minor characters given that, i think, pretending to be horny for thenardier has ended up becoming my specific brand

"My wife and I saw you across the bar"

A Hot Tinder Threesome

A Visit To Nardy's Tattoo & Piercing Parlour

The Ballsex Revolution

Nardy's DIY Project

A Cosy Morning (OT3, Gillenormand)

Quarantining (Nutlet origin)

You Surprise Nardy With A New Toy

A Christmas Surprise

A New Year's Costume Party

Nardy Paints You

Nardy's and the Battle of Water(sports)

Nardy the Clown

Nardy Saves You At Waterloo

You’ve got it all planned out this year. Unlike previous Barricade Days, you’ve set out goals, stuck to your timeline and your project is gonna be finished, polished and perfect. You’ve cleared the weekend of other plans and nothing is going to get in your way.

‘Hey, Y/N?’

You look up.  You didn’t think anyone would find you here, but in hindsight picking your favourite table at your favourite cafe was probably a mistake.

Grantaire slides into the seat opposite you. How he exists in a world in which Barricade Day is also a thing is up to the humble reader’s imagination.

Even though you know him well, it still takes you a moment to process his presence. Grantaire is just one of those people; it’s like he exists on a different plane of existence. Always perfectly groomed, not a hair out of place, easily the most beautiful person in any room. It would be annoying if he wasn’t so wholesome and humble about it.

‘Hey, R,’ you sigh, closing your laptop. You can take a five minute break, right? That won’t derail you.

‘So,’ Grantaire says, pausing to take a sip of his unicorn frappuccino. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Good!’ you let yourself relax. It IS going well. This year’s Barricade Day is different; you can feel it.

‘Good,’ he echoes, grinning. ‘Okay, so I need a favour. No, don’t look at me like that, it won’t take long, I’m not gonna ruin your precious Barricade Day.  Five minutes! Well, okay, maybe more like thirty, but I promise it won’t be all day!’

You look at him, chewing your lip. The last thing you want is to be distracted now, but Grantaire…is quite distracting. And the way he’s looking at you now - all Bambi-eyed, his sleek straight hair falling across his forehead - is impossible to resist.

‘Okaaaaay,’ you say slowly. ‘Thirty minutes. That’s all.’

Beaming, Grantaire grabs your arm and pulls you up from the table. ‘Adventure awaits!’ 

You only have time to hastily stuff your laptop into your Disney backpack before he’s wheeled you from the cafe and is marching you down the street.

Grantaire’s totally vital errand turns out to be…playing dominoes in the pub on the corner. If it were anyone other than him you’d be annoyed about it, but every time you try to tell him you’re about to leave he smiles, and jokes, and buys you another drink, and you find yourself nodding and smiling along with him. His good mood is infectious; filling the room and sinking into every soft furnishing like glitter that won’t wash out.

Maybe it’s something about the pub, or Grantaire next to you - for, after all, out of everyone he came to you, wanted your company - but time starts to pass in a strange way. At one point you glance up at the clock and it’s already five. It was only just after two when he found you in the cafe and it feels absurd that so much time should have gone already.

You’ll go once you’ve finished this drink, you vow, only for Grantaire to appear at your elbow with a tray full of absinthe shots.

The next time you check the time, by glancing towards the windows, you’re surprised to see a streetlight on outside. The day has become a hazy blur, lost in a whirl of light conversation. This is what life is meant to be like, you think, just about quality time with your friends. These are the days you’ll remember later. Sure, there might have been “other” “things” you had intended to do today, but none of them really matter. To think, you might have missed out on all of this!

And the day doesn’t end there. From the pub Grantaire whisks you on to a bar, and then a club, and then his apartment - a beautifully gentrified warehouse studio - where you and his beautiful-if-slightly-pretentious friends talk about the meaning of life, dude, and you pass out on his expensive shag rug with a blissful smile on your face.

It's been ages since you did a movie night, but when Enjolras suggested it you couldn't say no. A whole evening snuggled up to his delectable form, with perhaps a sneaky handjob under the blanket? Too good to resist.

He picked the movie, of course, he makes all the decisions in the relationship.

"Now, Y/N," he says, as you climb onto the sofa with a bowl of dorito flavoured popcorn. "It's very important that you pay attention to this film. I know we usually like to get a little frisky," and now he grins, "but you've got to really appreciate what makes Goncharov such a classic."

You roll your eyes, but affectionately. Enjy is always such a hipster.

As the evening progresses, however, it turns out you needn't have worried. Despite his grand intentions, Enjolras himself is becoming indescribably horny. By the end of the boat scene he's got a clear hard-on, and when the clock tower finally appears in the background he audibly whimpers.

Still, you were instructed to keep your hands to yourself, so you studiously ignore him and find yourself drawn in to Katya's terrible position. You find yourself leaning forward in your seat and, when the fatal bullet tears into Goncharov, a tear rolls down your cheek.

You turn to Enjolras, about to apologise for being so moved when he clearly just wants sex, only to find him transfixed on your face.

"Y/N...you understand," he whispers.

You nod, furiously.