#stafou

[jathis]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901603

[winxixia]

Stanley from Beauty and the Beast

I like this boy too much haha

RedBubble Store

[boo-mite-art]

Unpopular opinion: I liked the Beauty and the Beast remake (2017). 

Lefou and Stanley is a good couple. Although the filmmakers barley gave Stanley a personality or screen time. I gave him the love he deserves. I think I have about 5 000 words with headcanons and backstory with the characters from batb. 

also plz ignore the fact that Gastons pose is not in character for Gaston. Actually just ignore Gaston, he is a horrible person. @charlesleesbutt for Stanley and Lefou holding hands with their eyes closed as ref :-)

[thestanfoubrew]

One year ago (yesterday) was the anniversary of my first Stanfou fanfic.

[ao3-hipster-fangirl-trash]

Y'all my own stanfou fanfiction just got recommended to me on the #stanfou tag, I fucking made it, this is what fame feels like

[cuteville]

Stanfou Greaser AU v1 because Alexis is killing me with his Danny Zuko pictures

[marbarwantsbacon]

Quick doodle of Stanfou :3

idk what they’re doing just leave it to ya’ll imagine o3o 

I just want to draw Stanny boi with a pretty dress and Lefou in a fancy vest 

[jathis]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23646373

[winxixia]

Here comes a portrait of best boy!

[evrybodysdarlin]

Rewatching Beauty and the Beast 2017 and I just noticed that during “Gaston,” Stanley holds LeFou’s hand to help him get up on the table and praise Gaston and stuff, near the end of the song. And he looks kind of upset about it? I guess annoyed at how much he’s going on about Gaston? Or maybe just making a face like LeFou was heavy to pull up onto the table?

[thestanfoubrew]

When Someone Clings to My Apron Strings

This is a late Valentine’s Day gift for @ginnyweatherby who is the absolute light of my life, inspiring me with he sweet stories and her great headcanons. All of these fics are based on her stories, so I highly recommend checking them. The way she details love in her story - not just the love between Stanley and Lefou but between father and children - is amazing and obviously is the source for each of these little ficlets. 

Happy Valentine’s Day, lovelies~

‘Older’

Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one.

The foolish days of youth were melting past Lefou faster than he expected them to ever. But these were the days to stumble through life, unsure, and to take a few missteps because, for the most part, you’d catch yourself and carry-on.

He wasn’t exactly irresponsible. He wasn’t exactly responsible, either.

With the crowd he hung around, the loud-mouth, rowdy group of theater majors married with the reckless antics of Gaston, he wasn’t quite on the straight and narrow.

His grades were decent enough. He went home to see his family every other weekend.

But he drank.

And partied.

And fell into strange beds.

But he used protection. Always used protection.

Except he didn't. Not when it mattered.

Twenty-two.

And so on the night when he’s supposed to be commemorating his youth, celebrating another hedonistic and carefree year, he is sitting across from the girl he fooled around with on her extra-long twin bed, a white stick between them.

Her face that night had been so lovely.

(He had been so drunk.)

She laughed at everything he said.

(Everyone was always raving about how good it was.)

She invited her back to the girls' floor.

(He gave it a shot.)

But tonight, on his twenty-second birthday, she’s not laughing at what he’s said at all. Her face is red and blotchy and not glowing like everyone said it would. She was freaking out on the phone when she called him about this.

Twenty-two years old and in the little pink plus sign, his life as he knew it is gone.

And something new is starting.

One.

***

‘Reaching’

It was alien like, this little box for babies. Cold, hard plastic surrounded her, tubes and wires connected to oxygen tanks and heart monitors escaped through the little holes. These holes, two on each side, were a child’s only window to the outside, human world. These holes were only large enough for a hand to go inside and touch the baby inside.

Not hold. Not kiss. Touch. Gently.

Lefou’s baby, the unexpected visitor they were, was supposed to be held and kissed. They were unexpected, unplanned for, but by God were they going to be surrounded by a tiny village who loved them more than anything.

They weren’t supposed to be here. In a glass box. With an enormous scar down their tiny front.

Lefou and Madeline had a meeting with the pediatrician outside the NICU to talk about what was the best option for their baby’s life, which only hours before had hung in the balance as surgeons cut through new skin and tried to fix an already broken organ. But she was here. (For now.) And while her Maman and Papa were out, Uncle Gaston was going to keep watch.

“Hey there, buddy,” Gaston said softly. Lefou’s baby was a little girl - surprising at least Lefou who had convinced himself that he’d be having a son - and therefore, wasn’t exactly Gaston’s little buddy. The boy they had dreamed up, the one who would watch sports, the one he’d teach how to wrestle, the one he’d convince Lefou and Madeline to get a big dog for, wasn’t here. But a sick little girl who needed his love was.

And at that moment, little Charlotte balled her tiny hand into a fist, flailing it outside her little portal, offering it to him.

Gaston smiled.

She wanted a fist bump.

His little buddy after all.

***

‘Bright Blue’

“Charlotte! Charlotte Mae, look at Papa!”

His daughter - no more than two - was clearly showing off the dramatic flair she had inherited. She was leaning up against the wooden frame of the beach house, posing in her new blue, off the shoulder, striped romper like she was twenty-two. And Lefou, of course, was taking photographs with the aid of his lovely assistant, Jacqueline.

(Jacqueline had made the romper, too. She had a talent in sewing, but having a model with such miniature proportions definitely increased the volume of clothing she produced. And Lefou could tell that she took great effort to make something sweet

Still, she had her critics. “In my day, toddlers didn’t go around looking like they just stepped out of Vogue,” Madeline’s mother hummed when she saw her granddaughter make her grand entrance in her new ensemble. “They wore overalls and dresses with bunnies on them.”

Although, of course, Charlotte had her own fair share of corduroys and bunny dresses.)

Charlotte didn’t look. Instead, she tossed her thick, dark, curly hair - her hair that had been the reason behind Madeline’s mad case of heartburn when she was pregnant - to the side. Like she knew what she was doing.

Lefou’s genetics hard at work.

He laughed to himself and instead snapped one of her looking off into the distance.

These are the photos that, in twenty years, she’d actually be proud to show off.

***

‘Reflection’

A small town meant a larger number of people who heard the latest news - be it legitimate fact or whispered gossip. But Stanley Bernard becoming a single father at twenty-five was entirely true. And sure enough, when he ventured outside to the town’s early-summer festival with a baby wrap slung around himself and a wide-eyed infant peering at all the hustle and bustle, everyone began to talk even more.

That just how small towns were.

So young.

Couldn’t he have waited?

A baby needs two parents.

The funny thing about fatherhood was how much like his mother he had become. With her four kids, Fleur was always like a mama bird, keeping a close eye on them and shielding them with her wings. Stanley’s own wings were still fresh and downy - barely out of his adolescent phase himself - but they were there to wrap around Emilien.

They were a team, the two of them. Though the nights were sleepless and the days were long, there was no better joy than those moments he catches on film of Emilien laughing, smiling that toothless smile as he takes a picture of them together, his son on his shoulders, sporting a grin that’s not quite so toothless.

Never happier.

***

‘Companion’

It had been six years since Lefou had a baby at his hip. He had never anticipated another one. It was unlikely he’d ever fall into a situation that would grant him another child very soon, but it was clear that the ways of the universe were mysterious to him.

And of course, he never planned on a baby that was so different from his first. Charlotte Mae was just as wild and spontaneous as her dark curls but Bartholomew Elijah was calm, always pink-cheeked and staring around at the world with bleary blue eyes.

He hardly cried. He just let things happen. As long as he was close to his Papa, he could do anything.

And that was why, when he was introduced to Madeline’s dog, a Saint-Bernard that had a much different approach to the world, he didn’t freak out at this enormous creature dead-set on sniffing him. He just let her be. And with his peaceful nature, the new dog seemed to calm down as well.

Lefou smiled as he adjusted his grip on his son.

It was nice, after this disruption of his life, to know that this little boy could ground him even more.

***

‘Morning Light’

Once the boys had transitioned from waking up at the crack of dawn, eagerly awaiting what brand new things Saturday morning would bring, to finally realizing there was nothing glamorous or thrilling about six am, Lefou and Stanley thought they’d get back to normal human sleeping patterns. Then, of course, came along two little girls who were the unconventional last two pieces they needed in their family jigsaw puzzle.

Michelle, their sweet little surprise, couldn’t go through life without a companion. Barney and Emilien - though not siblings from birth - had become brothers in the three years time since their lives became one. Therefore, when the stork came knocking at their front door with Camille in tow,  (and for a couple who could not conceive on their own, that damn bird presented with them with so many offers away) they couldn’t turn her away.

And sure. It was hard sleeping in a room with two cribs, two babies, two constant alarms that could never synchronize their feedings and changing. But as Lefou lays in bed with a Camille swaddled up beside him, dozing off after a long night with an upset tummy, and Michelle, somehow alert after struggling to sleep through the crying, sitting and watching her sister in fascination. She had no ill will that this baby kept her up. She was just happy to see her.

Enough to - bless her heart - lean down and kiss the baby’s forehead when Stanley, from the other side of this Lefou/Camille/Michelle/Stanley sandwich - coaxed her.

Yep. This was worth it.

***

[ao3-hipster-fangirl-trash]

Spilt (tea) Coffee

Stanfou: 48: You make me want things i can’t have // “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

requested by anon and @kjs-s

I WANNA DO A COFFEE SHOP AU I DON’T KNOW WHY LET ME LIVE

Ok so i got the idea from this post

word count:1489

So Lefou works at Costa during the graveyard shift and Stanley, Tom and Dick work opposite the coffee shop and routinely come in sleep deprived and disassociating

aka Stanley is a drag queen and Lefou is an awkward lovable dork

The costa coffee that Lefou worked in was interesting to say the least.

In a couple of instances they had people come in and ask for weed or inquire if they could ‘hit the blunt’ in the back room, the manager of that certain shop had once decided to throw some sort of fancy dress party, which went well until the bookshop owner next door decided to show up and shut the place down, with a fire hydrant, two different employes had been caught spiking drinks with red bull and at least once someone had been pissed on (it was a long day).

But the one shift that anyone would have not wished upon their worst enemy was the graveyard shift, from 11pm to 6am every night, serving the crazies and eccentrics, but of course it was Lefou who took this shift, many people found that he had a way to talk to people, to really get to them, which is why even when he was off work, he would sometimes get a call from the shift manager on how to handle Carol, the crazy cat lady.

That particular night, it had been very quiet, with nothing to do except stare out of the windows and day (night?) dream. Some shops were still open for business, despite the lack of customers, such as the couture store across the street (Garderobe Custom Couture) which still had bright fairy lights illuminating the beautiful dresses and small fake birds at their feet.

He knew a few of the employes there, sometimes they would walk in covered in glitter, with a glue gun stuck to their hand and a 20, asking for the strongest thing they had and if they could a shot of vodka if you please.

His favorite from the shop, out of the trio of men that worked there, was Stanley, who would routinely walk in, wearing full drag with beautiful makeup and the most realistic wigs Lefou had ever seen, and on some days you could see a little bit of the spongy padding peeking out around the chest area. Once one of the new cashiers even asked for his number, believing truly that the person standing in front of him was a woman.

A bell sounded from the front door and Lefou looked up to see Tom and Dick walk through the door, Tom having half his hair sticking up and seemingly matted with glue, almost like a cow had licked the side of his face and his hair had decided to stay that way.

Dick however, was sporting some of the most exaggerated makeup that Lefou had ever seen, with cherry red lips and bright purple eyeshadow, covered in silver sequins, which would have been normal had the sequins not been shaped in a shape of a *ahem* phallic nature.

They walked up to the counter and drooped onto the counter as soon as they got to it.

“Bonsoir, I’m assuming you want something stronger than usual?” Lefou gave Tom's hair a little nudge, nope, completely solid.

They groaned in response, sliding a 20 euro note across the counter, which had a lipstick kiss and at least half a bucket of feather boas on it, none the less, Lefou accepted.

He walked back to the work station and grabbed two large cups, prepping a triple shot espresso for each man, and smiling to himself as he heard one of them whine like a puppy on the counter.

Lefou gave a small snigger, and whilst the coffee cup was wedged between the machine and his him, he pulled out his phone and took a picture of the two, laughing as the flash went off and both of them looked up simultaneously, confusion clouding their features.

“I swear I just saw a flash of light,” Dick said, looking around the room for the source of the flash.

The bell on the door dinged once more and both Tom and Dick looked up panicked, only to relax when they saw the twirl of a baby blue dress, as Stanley strutted into the room, with a pair of high heels in one hand and a piece of padding in the other, leaving a slightly mismatched chest.

“Eliizzaaaa!” Stanley belted out the line with expert showmanship, holding the note for at least 20 seconds before fistpumping the air and floating towards the counter with a smile on his face.

Tom and Dick both gave hearty laughs and began softly singing ‘Schuyler sisters’, clinging onto each other as if they needed to in order to survive.

Lefou would have thought that they were drunk, but he recognised exhaustion more than anyone else.

“Bonjour Lefou!” Stanley gave him a beaming smile and a small wave, making Lefou’s heart flutter slightly.

“Um- I- Hi Stanley,” He had begun to blush as he put the lids on Tom and Dicks now finished triple shot espressos.

“I have a request,” Stanley said, still smiling, “If you would, could I please have what the boys are having?”

“What, exhaustion or dissociation?”

Stanley laughed, not like a bark that you would usually hear from Tom and Dick, and certainly not like the giggle Lefou gave, but more like a smooth and gentle laugh that made him feel calmer.

“Non mon ami, a triple espresso please, with a shot of vanilla,” Lefou smiled and turned towards the machine, trying to hide his ever growing blush which had begun to crawl down his neck.

He got busy making the coffee, focusing on the steam rising and the gentle conversation of the trio behind him, all of them wrestling for the faux breast implant which Stanley had been holding on to when he had walked in.

When Lefou turned back he saw Dick with a large left breast, Stanley with a large right breast, and Tom standing between them poking at his flat chest, looking almost lost without a faux breast or at least some sort of bosom substitute.

He looked towards his friends and sighed, shaking his head.

“You guys, you’re making me want things I can’t have,” He stated, only for the boys around him to burst out into fits of laughter, filling the room and injecting the night with energy, as well as a few stray tears which leaked from crinkled eyes as everyone let themselves laugh.

Eventually, Stanley whipped out the second faux breast and tucked it into Tom’s shirt who gave him a beaming smile and placed a hand on it and giggled childishly.

Lefou shook his head and gave the coffee to Stanley who took it and looked around the cardboard container, only to frown slightly and look up towards Lefou with puppy dog eyes.

Lefou gave a small sigh, a smile then took the container back and brought out a sharpie placing the tip on the cardboard.

“Alright Monsieur, what would you like inscribed in your cup?”

Stanley brought his hand up to his chin and pretended to think for a moment, before giving a coy smile.

“How about your number?”

Dick spat out his coffee.

Lefou froze, looking at Stanley for some hint of a cruel smile or some sort of suppressed snort that people usually have when playing a cruel trick.

Instead, he simply leant against the countertop with beautiful brown innocent eyes which seemed completely genuine whilst asking for Lefou’s number.

He bent his head down and began writing the digits which he had memorised and chanted out several times with the same beat.

By the time he was done, all the boys were looking at him, as he drew a small flower on the end of the scrawl of numbers, and handed it to Stanley with a shaky laugh.

“Mon dieux, ton écriture c’est merveilleux!”

Dick rolled his eyes, or course Stanley was going to comment on Lefou’s handwriting and how pretty it was.

Tom tugged at Stanley’s sleeve and motioned towards Madame Garderobe’s shop, to see the woman herself standing at the doorway giving what could only be described as a sharp look.

They all slunk out towards the door, and seemed peaceful until Dick began laughing.

“What?” Stanley looked at him confused.

“‘How about your number?’ Jesus Stan how more direct can you be?” Lefou blushed behind them as they piled out of the door.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Stanley replied, sighing.

“Nope.”

“No.”

“Alright then.”

As they all began to walk out of the door, Lefou saw Stanley turn around in his lush dress and wink at him.

As his heart began leaping in his chest, he sighed contently and began cleaning up the counter, which still had some coffee left over from Dick’s surprise, and ten minutes later he heard a buzz on his phone, and picking it up, he smiled.

Unknown number: Hey, its Stanley, the attractive drag queen from the opposite shop ;)

So maybe the night shift wasn’t so bad.

[cuteville]

a softer stanfou•

[marbarwantsbacon]

PB & J  ( ˘ ³˘)♥

[jathis]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23626954