#couhan

[les-amis-de-l-a-bae-c]

Courfeyrac, letting Jehan win at arm wrestling: Awh! Darn it! You won again!!

Bahorel, slamming Feuilly’s arm down at full force: See that’s what yoU GeT FeUiLly! THaT’S WhAt YOu GET WHEN YoU MESS WITH tHe WaRriOR!!!

[nariko-koi]

This world needs more Courf x Jehan

Courfeyrac is inspired by dyinglikicarus’ Courfeyrac model sheet you can find here.

[courfee]

Now Warm in Love

Summary: Jehan has an awful day and Courfeyrac has an awful sweater

Tags: Modern AU; Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Word count: 1k

READ ON AO3

It was a cold morning when Jehan awoke. It had been a cold night and a cold evening before and Jehan started suspecting that the heating had really finally stopped working. He rolled to the side, trying to find the warmth of his boyfriend next to him but only found a cold, empty spot. “Oh,” the poet sighed, his voice not quite there yet. This was going to be a bad day.

It was indeed a bad day. As it turned out the heating was in fact broken and the minus degrees outside that slowly started creeping into the apartment did nothing to lift Jehan's mood. Furthermore, when he went to dress himself he found all his cosy, warm sweaters to be in the washing machine and the only socks he could find were plain black ones, without any idea when he or Courfeyrac had started wearing black socks.

Courfeyrac still wasn't there when Jehan found his beloved sunflower on the windowsill had wilted and he wasn't there when his favourite ball point pen ran out of ink. To top it all off Jehan started feeling the familiar dreaded heaviness of writer's block crawling into his head, taking in all the space there and almost driving him to tears. Oh, how he hated this day.

“Where are you Courf, where are you my love,” Jehan whispered into the empty apartment hugging his arms around his chest, trying to warm himself, imagining it was his boyfriend who took him into his embrace. It only made him feel worse, the loneliness got only more apparent. If only he wasn't alone, if only his sun was there to warm him. The melancholy did finally take over and the little poet started shaking, if from the cold or the tears that fought their way out of his eyes he couldn't tell. He was alone. He was alone and his boyfriend had left him in his grief, in this cold.

The young man stumbled to his lovers cupboard, pulling out a sweater in awfully clashing orange and green tones. Oh, how he hated it, this truly hideous thing Courfeyrac somehow adored so much. He had sworn never to give it anything but hateful glances but now he hugged it to his chest, smelling the fabric and thinking of Courfeyrac. The dark curled man loved it to pieces, swore it was his lucky sweater and some days looked after it better than after himself. It was the most Courfeyrac thing Jehan could think of and despite every ounce of hate for the colours and patterns he pulled it over his head, disappearing in comfortable warmth and the sweet distinctive smell of Courfeyrac. It wasn't quite the same as curling up in his lovers arms, but it was as close as he could get on this grey day.

Jehan instantly felt better. He could practically feel how his head started to clear as his body slowly warmed up again. The poet moved back to the double bed and sat down with pen and notebook, determined to fight this colourless day and to put his melancholy to use. He curled up deeper in the sweater and wrote, jotting down line after tear-filled line of poetry until his hands were nearly as blue as the page he was writing on. Eventually he drifted off to sleep, pen still in hand, curled up like a cat dreaming of soft arms around him.

“Jehan!” The poet woke up with a start at the choked cry, “My sweater!”

Jehan looked up at the dark haired man in the doorway, then down at the now ink stained sweater.

“Oh no, oh no, no no, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry I didn't want I-”

Tears filled his eyes. He had ruined it. There he was, his boyfriend, finally returned to him holding a heap of blankets and pillows and now he was angry at him because he, Jehan, had ruined his most treasured piece of clothing. He himself had turned this bad day into a catastrophic one.

Jehan rubbed at the fabric, desperately trying to get the ink out while tears fell onto the sweater, seeping into the orange and green leaving dark, wet splotches.

Courfeyrac was at the bed in a few strides. “Stop that.”

Jehan flinched. “I-I'm s- so so-”

Courfeyrac didn't let him finish but wrapped him tightly in his arms. “Hey, hey no. Shhh. Shh my love, please don't cry, I hate seeing you cry, it's okay.”

“But y-your sweater,” the poet hiccuped into his boyfriend's chest.

“It's just a sweater. I may love it but I love you so much more. I'd gladly give it away if it meant I could see your smile. Hell, I'd give a thousand sweaters in exchange for your happiness. We can wash it later, it's just ink, it will probably wash out. Please stop crying, it's all okay. I love you, so so much.”

“But you left...,” Jehan sniffed, but buried deeper into the embrace.

“I thought I had told you.. I went out to help Enj with his new shelf. I also asked Feuilly what to do about our heating and he said we should live with blankets and tea for now but he'll come around tomorrow and try to fix it.” So as to underline his words Courfeyrac wrapped three blankets around the two of them. “I'm so sorry if I forgot to actually tell you all of this.”

Jehan gave a small humming sound as an answer. He looked up at his most beautiful sunflower, his dark, sincere eyes gently fixed on Jehan's face. It was all okay. “I love you.”

Courfeyrac smiled and kissed his boyfriend softly on the lips before answering: “I love you too.” Then he looked around at the mess at their shared bed. “So I take it you were quite productive today. What did you write?”

“...Stuff,” Jehan answered slowly, “it's not very happy. You weren't there.”

Cuddling his little poet, Courfeyrac murmured: “Well I am now. Maybe the happy will come now.”

And for the first time that day, Jehan smiled. In the hideous, far too big sweater he wrapped his arms around Courfeyrac and kissed him slowly, laying all the words of love and contentedness he couldn't bring to paper onto his lover's lips.

Maybe this day wasn't so bad after all.

[anastasiawritingfics]

Words I Might Have Ate

Pairing: Courfeyrac/Jehan Rating: Mature Verse: Sweet Children Summary: Courfeyrac and Jehan aren't dating, but they are partners. That somehow seems to be a problem for Jehan's new boyfriend. Word count: 3,026 Notes: A little gift for @lifeofthewickedwitch Content warning: amatonormativity, possessive behavior, jealousy, accidental voyeurism, implied sexual content, masturbation

Chapter 1 / ?

"I met someone", Jehan said shyly.

The words took Courfeyrac by surprise, but he did his best to control the emotions trying to show on his face and, instead, masqueraded them with joy. "You did? Oh, my God. That's awesome! Who is he?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Jehan snorted and lowered his face, blushing slightly. "His name's Joaquín. He's, uh, he's a model-"

"Ohhhhh," Courfeyrac shrieked. "An underwear model?"

"... Among other things," the young man answered, hiding his face between his hands.

Read it @ AO3

[anastasiawritingfics]

When It's Time is about to reach 100 kudos!! What do you think I should do to celebrate when that moment comes? Any suggestions?

(When Sweet Children reached 100 kudos, I posted that old face claim, d'you remember it? What would you like to see this time?)

[anastasiapullingteeth]

Some days he feels like dying, some days it's not worth trying; now that they both are finding, he gets so sick of crying.

Courfeyrac x Jehan | When It’s Time [ch. 11 & 12]

[anastasiawritingfics]

When It’s Time

Pairing: Enjolras/Grantaire Rating: Mature Verse: Sweet Children Summary: Someone from Enjolras’ past comes back and Grantaire doesn’t know how to handle it, especially after the life of some of their friends takes an interesting turn. Word count (per chapter): 4,403 words Notes: cw for internalized arophobia, drugs, and friends being major dicks to each other.

Chapter 12 / ?

It was around 5 in the morning when Courfeyrac finally got a chance to escape to his bedroom, away from the eyes of his friends gathered in his living room, chatting and dozing off after an impromptu meeting. They’d come in a hurry the previous day because Enjolras had felt the sudden urge to revise only God knew what about a song at 11 at night. He’d become worryingly obsessed with the new album after The Breakup and they assumed work was a distraction for whatever he was feeling. Courfeyrac, on the other hand, couldn’t bother with it; the only reason why they were at his place was he’d just returned from a quick visit to an old “friend” when Enjolras’ message buzzed in his phone, and was too lazy to go out again.

Read it @ AO3

[anastasiawritingfics]

When It’s Time Ch. 11 NSFW sneak peek under the cut.

Jehan turned his head until Courfeyrac's fingers were brushing his lips. Using his tongue, he brought them closer and took two digits into his mouth, licking the tip and sucking around them; the image was vulgar and Courfeyrac couldn’t stop the breathy moan that followed. Jehan did all this as he rolled his hips on top of the other man, creating a sweet friction between them. When he considered Courfeyrac’s fingers were well lubricated, he bent over slightly and guided the hand pass the hem of his briefs until the tip of his fingers brushed his entrance, inviting Courfeyrac to push inside of him; Courfeyrac didn’t need to be told twice.

“I like your fingers,” Jehan gasped, biting the lobe of Courf’s ear. “And your arms are so strong.”

He was rocking his hips back onto Courfeyrac’s fingers, bringing them deeper inside of him. There was nothing sweet about the act and the drummer feared Jehan was just looking for a distraction of his troubled thoughts. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want Jehan to believe this was the only way he could find comfort in him. He slowed the motion of his fingers and place a hand on Jehan’s waist, willing him to stop moving. When the young man looked at him quizzically, he kissed his forehead. He guided him to a more tender pace, exchanging slow kisses that were interrupted from time to time by Jehan’s soft gasps. A shiver ran down Jehan’s body and he hide his head under Courf’s chin. His cock was growing hard again, and Courf opted to give him a soft, tentative squeeze with his free hand.