#claqueleroy

[theblazeofmemory]

I just want y'all to know, the perfect ship has been found. It's Jehan, Montparnasse, Claquesous, and Fauntleroy doing whatever is the most aesthetically pleasing in the moment. I've been keeping them in my pocket this whole time, but I think I can share as long as you promise to be responsible with it.

[mysunfreckle]

Claquesous/Fauntleroy, Unapologetic Fluff, 9.5k

Five fluffy ficlets put together because I love my stabby sweethearts. Including:

Friendship Fluff

Early Relationship Fluff

Developing Relationship Hurt/Comfort

Developing Relationship Fluff

Getting Together except they both have emotion-based magic because what is this for if not self-indulgence

[mysunfreckle]

Threads of Ink

Claqueleroy, established relationship, 1.6k of sentimental fluff

It’s late, so late that Fauntleroy no longer has any defences against the drowsiness tugging on their mind, but they don’t want to sleep. Sous is lying beside them in their bed, doing some kind of logic puzzle on his phone and he’s so wonderfully unguarded.

Being with someone like him is nearly intimidating to them sometimes, but they know for a fact that they are the only one that gets to see him like his.

He’s half-covered by their sheets, but he’s wearing nothing but boxers and his long hair is still damp. He’s freshly showered and soft around the edges, lying on his stomach, propped up on a pillow he has unthinkingly started to refer to as his.

As they look at him, Fauntleroy suddenly doesn’t know what to do with themselves for the happiness swelling in their chest. They reach out, putting a hand on his back and the most wondrous thing is that he merely shifts contently and stays where he is. They no longer need to ask permission, he no longer looks at them presuming they want something when they do this. They can just touch him.

Fauntleroy runs their hand over his skin, up to the base of his neck, down to the edge of his waistband. He’s so warm. They keep lightly touching him, just because they can. By the time they’ve started to carefully trace his spine with their fingertips Sous is clearly losing interest in his game. He lets his phone slip out of his grip and slowly puts his head down, making a low sort of animal noise as he lies down flat with his arms above his head. As the muscles in his shoulders shift, Faun’s eye suddenly catches a pattern in the lines of ink on his back.

Claquesous has only two tattoos. A single letter on the sole of his right foot and a large elaborate shoulder piece. It stretches all across his shoulder blades and down his back and to Fauntleroy it has always looked like a woven structure. Like a piece of rough fabric clinging to his skin perhaps. With ragged edges. But now, turning their head, there is a pattern in the lines that does not look either regular or random. They lean a little closer fingertips grazing the spot.

“Sous?”

“Mm?”

“Can I…” They hesitate.

Claquesous turns his head to look at them. His black eyes search their face for a moment and then he smirks. “When’s the last time I told you no, Bouquetière?”

They huff softly and continue boldly: “Can I ask about your tattoo?”

His expression is neutral. “What about it?”

“Does it— Is it meant to be something?” Even with them Sous rarely shares things about his past, and he has had that tattoo for as long as they’ve known him. Longer than he’s been part of the Patron-Minette even, they believe.

He hums thoughtfully, rolling partway onto his side to look at them more fully. “What I asked for,” he says, with faint amusement around his mouth. “Is a pattern as if there is a woven fabric visible underneath my skin.”

Fauntleroy glances at the ragged edge they can see on his shoulder. They suppose that could be the ragged edge of torn skin instead of a scrap of clinging fabric. It’s not a very nice image though.

They wrinkle their nose without realising and Sous laughs softly. Fauntleroy’s eyes dart to his, caught, but they still feel that odd spark of wonder in their midriff. Hearing him laugh out loud has not yet stopped becoming a novelty.

“What made you ask?”

Fauntleroy makes a soft noise. “I thought I saw a pattern,” they answer. “In one of the…strings, I guess, one of the threads.”

Claquesous gives them an odd sort of nearly smiling look. “Mm. And did you read it?”

They blink at him. “Read it? What do you mean read it?”

He smirks. “Oh never mind, then,” he hums and moves to roll onto his back.

“No!” Fauntleroy protests and they grab him by the shoulder, trying to force him to lie back down on his stomach again so they can see.

Sous struggles, but only barely, so Fauntleroy throws in their weight. They force his shoulder back down, climbing on top of him to sit down straddling his hips, with two hands planted flat under his shoulder blades. Claquesous makes an amused, pleased sound and Fauntleroy feels a spark of heat glow on their cheeks.

“If you wanted a fight you could have asked,” they say sweetly, quickly lifting the pressure of their hands.

“Not nearly as fun,” he says unconcernedly, his voice slightly muffled by the pillow.

Fauntleroy sniffs at him and they softly stroke his skin again as they try to find the irregularity in the lines of ink that caught their eye. They don’t find it. But they find a completely different one. And then another. And another. There is a pattern of thickenings in threads of the woven fabric. Not easily seen from a distance, but this close up it’s clear that the ink is thicker in some places, the lines not as delicate. Almost as if whoever spun the thread was careless in doing it. Except… Fauntleroy traces down one horizontal ink-drawn thread with their index finger. It thickens and thins, thickens and thins.

“…is that Morse code?”

Claquesous makes an approving sound. “Guessing you don’t read it?” he hums.

“Who does?” they demand. “Why would—” Now they know what they’re looking for they can see the pattern of dots and stripes quite clearly. Scattered here and there across the strands, distributed just well enough to blend into the illusion of a woven fabric. There aren’t too many threads that have the code in it. They count no more than thirteen. Maybe fourteen. “Why did you make them put Morse code on you back?”

Claquesous folds his hands under his chin, the movements of his shoulder blades making the tattoo shift. “Because it’s the fabric of my existence.”

Fauntleroy slants their head. The fabric of his existence… “What do they say then?” they ask curiously, their fingers lingering on a cluster of dots. “There can be only a few words here.”

“Not words, dates,” he says. “I don’t really keep stuff, you know. No pictures, mementos— This is something I can’t lose.” His carefully neutral tone of voice wavers for just a second. “I had it done when I left home.”

“Oh, Sous…” Fauntleroy doesn’t quite know what to say. That’s… They smile widely and reach up to squeeze his shoulder.

He makes a half-grumbling, half-fond noise and dislodges a hand from under his chin to tap his spine at the base of his neck. “That’s my birth date.”

Fauntleroy leans in closer. “So that’s one…nine…” That’s a lot of symbols for one number. Their eyes dance over his skin, taking in pattern after pattern and in an impulse they let themself slide off Sous to grab their phone from the nightstand.

Claquesous pushes himself up to turn his head towards them. “What are you doing?”

“No,” they whine. “Keep still.” They sit back down, playfully pushing against his back. “I want to decipher them.”

“Oh I see, and I’m supposed to stay put while you learn a code that has existed for nearly two hundred years.”

“You’re the one that had someone write outdated cyphers on your back,” they chide, scrolling on their phone until they’ve found the list of numbers.

The grumbly noise he makes sounds far too much like a chuckle for them to listen to it.

“You don’t have to tell me what they belong to,” they say, teasingly dragging a finger down his spine. “But I’m gonna read them!”

They do wonder what they refer to, these dates. And also in what order they’re supposed to be. But they do feel like it might be pushing their luck to demand to know. Only, they’ve just seen something that can’t be right. They check again their finger resting under the line on his skin and their eyes darting to their screen and back again.

“This one’s from the beginning of this year?”

Sous doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t move either. They trace the line back. To the month. The day. That’s—

Fauntleroy slides off Claquesous, landing seated sideways on the mattress. “…you still add dates?”

Claquesous turns around and sits up, his hair tumbles forward in a partially dried mess. “Yeah.”

They look at him with the strangest lump in their throat. “And you added the day I asked you out?”

The softness in his eyes is masked immediately with a smirk. “I added the date you crawled into my lap and tried to kiss me.”

Their cheeks burn with heat. “Same thing!” Their heart does a wild beat. “When— when did you—?”

This time his expression is steady and warm. “When I last went home to Toulouse.”

When he last… Fauntleroy tugs at their sleeves, far too full of feelings to still know what to do with their hands. “But that’s months ago.” Their voice comes out very small. “That’s…only a month after?”

He’s smiling, they can only tell because they know what to look for, but he is. “What exactly is your point, Bouquetière?” He doesn’t even manage to keep his voice free of fondness. “As far as I’m aware dates don’t change with the passing of time.”

“Oh shut your mouth,” Fauntleroy protests, all their happiness dancing electric on their skin. And since they really don’t have the words right now to stop him from smirking like that, they do what they have long thought is the best way to deal with any Sous-related situation where words fail them: they crawl into his lap and kiss him.

[mysunfreckle]

Claqueleroy, Established Developing Relationship, Smut without Smut, 2k

Claquesous is lying stretched out in the dark though, on his back with his hands folded under his head with decided sleeplessness. He has barely had any time to talk to Faun after the exploits of the evening. It had been a big job. Tense. And Faun had been absolutely flying about afterwards, still full of the energy set aside for any of the million things that might have gone wrong. They should have been allowed to celebrate a little.

So Claquesous waits, eyes closed, but ears primed. One thing he has learned lately is that Faun, for all their occasional shyness, is much more impatient than him.

@theblazeofmemory plead their case for a dominant Fauntleroy and then @feyland wrote this and then I wrote this~

[Rated M for physical intimacy and fooling around that isn’t quite sex.]

[mysunfreckle]

Angst to Fluff Prompts

Back in November I started the Angst to Fluff game, in which I asked for angst prompts and ships, but instead of writing angst I made every ficlet as fluffy as I possibly could. Now, finally, all the prompts have finally been filled! So here they all are neatly in a row:

Les Amis:

Courfeyrac just challenged Enjolras to a duel for the honour of Combeferre, who loves them both. (Platonic) 

Éponine was a fool and now because of that Cosette got hurt. 

Enjolras catches Combeferre redhanded, covered in blood. (Canon era)

Courfeyrac just challenged Combeferre to a duel for the honour of Jehan, who loves them both. (Beauxbatons AU, platonic...?)

Enjolras got cursed and only Grantaire, who hates his guts, can break it.

Grantaire is the one tasked with preventing Enjolras from fulfilling his quest.

Enjolras just caught Grantaire in a lie, and not a harmless white one. 

Grantaire is forced to betray his loyalty to Enjolras. (Canon era)

Enjolras is forced to betray his loyalty to Grantaire. 

Enjolras is forced to betray Grantaire and Éponine helps R get payback.

Patron-Minette:

Montparnasse catches Jehan redhanded, covered in blood.

Jehan was prophesied to kill Montparnasse.

Montparnasse has just found out Jehan was bitten during a zombie apocalypse.

Babet must choose, follow his family and abandon Montparnasse or leave with Montparnasse and leave his family behind. (Platonic)

Claquesous was a fool and now because of that Fauntleroy got hurt.

Claquesous just caught Fauntleroy in a lie, and not a harmless white one. 

Claquesous is forced to betray his loyalty to Montparnasse.

[mysunfreckle]

Give me some... good P-M things... because I love some good sweet P-M things...

Well, if you want sweet. Here's Montparnasse, Claquesous and Fauntleroy being good to each other~

Fauntleroy doesn't really like spicy food, but they know Sous does. When they notice him getting too quiet they make the effort to cook something hot, they know it cheers him up, even if he doesn't say so

Montparnasse took a while to get used to the idea that he wouldn't have Sous to himself anymore, but the better he got to know Faun the easier it was. Most people would interpret violently making out with someone before the friend you know has a crush on him comes over as passive-aggressive, but Parnasse honestly only meant to give Faun more incentive to finally speak their mind. By continually confronting them with a maskless, dishevelled Sous

Claquesous isn’t particularly good at offering comfort, but he’s a good listener. He also values actions over words. Both Montparnasse and Fauntleroy have woken up in the morning after venting to Sous about something or someone to Sous the previous evening and just finding it…no longer around

They all steal stuff they think the others would like, like affectionate magpies. Faun presents them as actual gifts, Parnasse gives them on particular moments with a lot of smugness, Sous just leaves them somewhere they’ll find it

Once they all live together it’s going to be Claquesous’ neatness and Montparnasse’s sense of style at war with Fauntleroy’s love for clutter cosiness, but their household is surprisingly functional, they all have very complementary talents and inclinations and they really appreciate having an actual home

[mysunfreckle]

Claquesous/Fauntleroy, Modern Vampire (and Werewolves) AU

It is time for blood and romance~

Vampires are rare, but Paris seems to be positively dripping with blood.

In which Montparnasse and Claquesous have been undead since the 1830′s, Gueulemer is a werewolf without a pack but with a teenager in tow, Bizarro has been the same beautiful Russian stranger since the late 18th century, Jehan is a halfblood daywalker, and Fauntelroy really needs to stop draining people.

Dedicated to @theblazeofmemory​ and @feyland​ who I am in a mutually enabling spiral of vampire headcanons with <3

[mysunfreckle]

Troubled dreams

Claqueleroy, Modern AU, New relationship, Worries & Fluff, 940 w.

Sleeping next to Claquesous is as nice as it is new. Fauntleroy has never been used to sleeping with someone before. Not that they feel they can really call it sleeping with him, because he’s always still awake when they fall asleep and he’s already up when they wake. But it’s nice to be aware of his presence in their bed, even when they’re not awake enough to fully appreciate it.

Because even though Bizarro likes to joke at them that they’d never even know if he went to bed at all, Fauntleroy does know. They sleep rather light and sometimes, when they almost wake up, they reach out to feel him next to them. He never stirs when they do that, but it’s comforting to feel he’s there, no matter how very still in his sleep.

That is exactly the reason, however, why the sudden movement in their bed wakes Fauntleroy up almost immediately.

“Sous?” they mutter drowsily. They’re pretty sure they can feel him sitting up.

It’s not quite dark in the room, Fauntleroy’s curtains aren’t thick enough for that and there is always light from outside, but they can’t really see him either. They reach for the light on the bedside table.

“Sous, what’s—?” A hand catches them by their shoulder and before Fauntleroy can actually turn on the light, Claquesous is pulling them upright.

For a second they tense, expecting some kind of threat. But if there had been a threat, Sous would be out of bed already. He hasn’t said a word though and Fauntleroy has worried themselves fully awake by now. They look into Claquesous’ face and he’s definitely looking back at them, but even in the dim light the expression in his eyes doesn’t seem fully awake. His movements aren’t clumsy or sleepy, but they have something nearly robotic to them. He isn’t looking into their eyes, but he’s looking them over intently, both hands now gripping either of their arms just below their shoulder.

Fauntleroy blink up at him. “Sous?” they whisper. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” he replies immediately, but it’s an automatic reply and the way he suddenly touches their face takes Fauntleroy by surprise. They immediately know what he’s doing though. Checking for injuries.

Fauntleroy doesn’t protest, willingly turning their head side to side, but they’re very surprised. They can’t really imagine Claquesous as someone who has nightmares. And…he seems so calm. So oddly, eerily calm.

They’ve nearly resolved to try and shake him awake – if he really is still asleep, his movements are so controlled – when Sous suddenly sighs and mutters something indistinguishable. The only sound they can just about recognise is their own name. Then, without warning, he abruptly lays back down again. And to Fauntleroy’s bewilderment, he pulls them down with them. Instead of letting go, he resolutely wraps his arms around them, holding them close against his chest.

Fauntleroy blows out a surprised breath and they feel their face flush hot for a moment. They try cuddle up to him a bit sometimes in the evenings or early mornings, but he’s usually doing something, reading, listening to music, or on his phone, and they don’t want to disturb him. He’ll stroke them when they ask, he lets them lie against him when they’re watching something or traveling somewhere in the back of a car, but he’s never held them like this. Ever.

They lie listening in silence for a moment, but Claquesous’ breathing has evened out again. He’s fast asleep and his arms are heavy around them. It’s not entirely comfortable, but…it feels safe. Like they’re hidden from the world and safely tethered to it at the same time. Slowly, Fauntleroy closes their eyes. They move against him until they can lean their head comfortably against Claquesous’ shoulder and listen to the rhythm of his breathing blending with the beating of his heart.

Fauntleroy doesn’t even realise they drifted off until they wake again. Underneath them, Claquesous is beginning to stir.  

They blink open their eyes and raise their head a little, looking straight into his face. This is the first time they’ve seen him wake up…

Sous’ lashes flutter a couple of times before his eyes open with sudden clarity. He looks back at them where they are lying close against his chest, and stays extremely still for a moment. “Faun?” he says slowly and he seems so taken by surprise that Fauntleroy is sure he can’t remember what happened that night.

“Yes,” they mumble. “Good morning.”

He looks at them silently for a moment. “Good morning…” his voice is soft and Fauntleroy smiles because of it.

They can feel Claquesous’ body is no longer relaxed beneath them and when he moves they’re suddenly so unwilling to get out of his arms they say shyly:

“Can we stay like this? Just for a while?”

They put their head back against his chest demonstratively. “I like this…”

Claqueous doesn’t answer, but he shifts a little underneath them and a moment later they feel the hand that was resting on their hip come up to stroke the hair at the nape of their neck. Fauntleroy hums appreciatively and his touches become a little less cautious, the tension and hesitance leaving his body.

When they peek at him through their lashes they see he has closed his eyes again. He’s clearly awake, but he looks more at rest than they have ever seen him.

They smile against his chest and spread their fingers against the fabric of his shirt. The nightmare – if that is what it was – is a little worrying…but, apart from that, they could get used to this.