#My Dinner with Herve

[ruleof3bobby]

MY DINNER WITH HERVE (2018) Grade: B- 

Didn't know much about the true story so I found it fascinating. Peter Dinklage puts on an amazing performance, hopefully he was nominated for something.

[imthebadguyyy]

Something Just Like This

pairing - charles leclerc x reader

fandom - f1

synopsis - a reflection on your relationship.

part - i (part ii)

warnings - talk about death, leukemia, badly translated french and the events may not be in order.

a/n - felt guilty for being away for so long so here's a wee little bit of a fic to make up for it!! all my love, always ♥️

when you were five,your dad had taken you to a go kart track in monaco, to watch a race with his childhood best friend, herve. having previously lived elsewhere, your trip to monaco with your parents was tremendously exciting, and you had nearly tripped over in your excitement at visiting a new country, and possibly making new friends. your dad had told you, "my friend has 3 sons himself, I'm sure you'll all get along very well"

so, you went, clutching your raggedy anne doll in one hand, and your model ferrari in the other, excitedly chattering away to your mummy and papa, eventually falling asleep on their shoulders.

when you awoke, you found yourself on a strange bed, with neither your doll nor your car beside you, and your parents seemed to have vanished too. the easy tears that had always been ready to spring to your eyes did their job, and your bottom lip began to wobble.

just before you could burst into tears, a pretty lady with kind eyes looked in at the door, and upon seeing your trembling lip, walked in with a soft coo.

"ma cherie, don't cry. are you looking for your maman and papa?" she asked, sitting down beside you.

"yes I am, do you know where they are?" you asked, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand as you spoke. "yes cherie, they're here, in the living room. im pascale, your parents friend! my husband, herve, is your dad's friend. come, let me introduce you"

and so you followed her to the living room, clutching into her finger for dear life, and the moment you spotted your parents, you ran to your mama, clambering into her lap and hiding your face in her hair.

"hello! are you y/n?" a little boy asked, with messy dark hair a sweet smile. you nodded, looking at him curiously. "I'm Lorenzo, but you can call me enzo!" he said with a smile. "hello" you mumbles softly, taking in your surroundings.

you took in the pretty apartment, with the bright sunlight and the pretty paintings, before something on the floor caught your eye.

there was another boy on the carpet, with brown hair and green eyes, who had in his clutch your missing ferrari toy.

"hey thats my car!" you exclaimed, sliding off your mother's lap to sit on the floor"

"that can't be your car, girls don't play with cars!" the boy exclaimed, holding it close.

"now charles, of course they can! and that is y/n's car so why don't you ask her if you can play with it together?" pascale interrupted, sensing a fight about to break out

"ok, im sorry y/n, can we share this car please? i love ferrari!" he exclaimed, flashing you a bright smile, and it was at that moment that your little five year old heart fell hard for the boy.

the two of you spent the afternoon together, playing with your ferrari and all his other cars, and laughing and giggling with lorenzo, and also playing with baby arthur.

your parents watched with smiles, realizing their children were forming life long bonds.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

no one could have foreseen how you would be joined at the hip forever after that. your parents moved to monaco for a job your dad got, and you started living just down the block from the leclerc's. that meant Saturday night dinners at either of your houses, and lazy Sundays spent at the beach or at go kart races.

you even went to the same school as the boys, with either of your parents picking you up and dropping you off.

as the years passed, you and charles got closer and closer, and it was a rare occasion where you weren't stuck at the hip.

you found in him the best friend you always wanted, funny, kind and caring, and always ready to have your back, something he proved on the very first day of school, when he punched a kid who pulled on your pigtails.

his parents weren't happy but when a tearful charles explained that "i couldn't let him hurt y/n/n!! i love her!!" pascale softened and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"you love her, do you?" she asked with a chuckle, when the boy nodded furiously. "she's my best friend, nobody should make her upset" he said determinedly, making his dad chuckle too.

"ok, mon fils, tu n'as pas de problèmes"

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

on your sixteenth birthday, the leclercs joined your family for a special dinner on the beach. your dad rented a yacht and you guys had spent the day sailing on it, and trying to catch fish and swimming in the blue water. you had all laughed and screamed and lorenzo had taught you how to do a proper cannonball into the water. your mother's had scolded him for teaching you such unladylike things, and he in turn said "but she's y/n! no one's expecting her to be ladylike!" at which point you had dunked him in the water.

you tuckered each other out by swimming around, and participating in a chicken fight with the leclercs. it was you in charles' shoulder, and arthur on lorenzo's. of course, you won.

it reminded you of when you were children, always together, always messing around in some way or the other. but with Charles spending more and more time racing, you got to see the leclercs much lesser than you'd have liked to.

so communication with Charles became through letters, written to him when he went out of the country to race, with his dad and brother. pascale was a regular visitor but meeting charles had become something to be cherished, what with you busy trying to get auditions to be a singer.

in the years that had passed, you and charles had become extremely close, meeting each other whenever possible and becoming each others support system whenever the other needed it. so of course it was fitting that he was your designated best friend, your confidante, your favourite leclerc (but we won't tell arthur that)

so that night after dinner, when charles suggested you take a walk together on the beach, you thought nothing of it. not until he pulled out a small bracelet he had made, out of seashells, that you gasped, leaping into his arms for a tight hug.

"i want you to have something to remember me by when I go racing, ma jolie, i know I'm not always around, but this way you'll always have a piece of me with you, even if I'm not there" he whispered, dropping a small kiss you your forehead.

gentle kisses and hugs and touch were not unusual for you, it was your love language and it always had been, ever since you were kids.

but there had always been a lingering crush you had on him (and him on you but we'll talk about that later) and you felt your belly burn red hot when his lips dropped to your cheek.

you pulled him in close for a hug, hand running through his hair, freshly cut by his mother.

"merci, ma vie" you whispered, pressing a kiss to his wrist, and as the both of you stayed there, your head on his shoulder, his head on yours, cozy on a rug he had stolen, watching the beautiful monaco sunset, you swore you had never loved anyone as much as you had in that moment.

and charles realized it too, looking over at you, and how the sunset cast a golden hue on your mesmerizing eyes, and the way your hair shimmered softly, and your skin glowed bright, and he swore he had never seen a sight prettier, and his little teenage heart fell a little harder for the five year old who worse pigtails and loved ferrari as much as he did.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

however, your story wasn't always just sunshine and rainbows. when you were seventeen, your dad was diagnosed with leukemia.

the news came as a shock to you, especially when the doctor told you, he did not have strong chances of recovery even with the proper surgery and treatment. you'd never forget your mother's wail, as she sobbed over your father's fate, and how pascale and herve were there for her through it all, but for you, you couldn't breathe.

you ran to the park, crawling under the slide set, your breathing harsh and shallow. your eyes were blurring and every breath sent a sharp pain shooting down your chest. around you, the world seemed to spin and you closed your eyes, drawing your knees in, and begging your brain to stop, and pressing a hand to your chest.

before you knew it you were gasping, every gasp making you more and more dizzy, and your heart seemed to be banging against your chest to get out.

"am i dying?" you thought to yourself, labouring gasps echoing in the darkness.

"and am i hearing things?" you also asked yourself, because you could have sworn you heard charles' voice.

and lo and behold, he appeared, panting and sweaty, sinking down next to you, grabbing your sweaty hands in his own and pushing his forehead down to yours.

"cherie? ma jolie? regarde-moi s'il te plaît, regarde-moi. maman told me what happened. please cherie, breathe for me, i need you to breathe. peux-tu respirer pour moi?" he begged, rubbing your back slowly and pressing kisses to your nose.

slowly, your breathing slowed down, but as it did, tears began to stream down your face, and ugly sobs wracked your body.

Charles felt his heart break, watching the strongest girl he knew break down in his arms, tears and sweat pooling on his shirt as you sobbed.

"i know, Cherie, i know" he whispered, his own eyes glazing over. he loved your dad as much as your dad loved him, and he couldn't believe it when his mother told him the news. he pulled you in even closer, so you were straddling his lap, and kept rubbing your back, whispering sweet nothings to you.

"papa, il va mourir et il va nous laisser maman et moi seules" you wailed into his shoulder and he shushed you gently.

"no no no, cherie, listen to me, please?" he asked, pulling your chin up, heart breaking when he saw your red eyes and runny nose.

you nodded slowly, still hiccupping, but letting him pull you into his chest.

"y/n, i cannot tell you what the future holds for your papa. but I can promise you that you and mama will never be alone, ever. even if the day comes when we have to say goodbye to your papa, you will never, ever be alone, not while I am there, not while maman is there, not while papa is there, and not while lorenzo and arthur are there. you are my family, y/n, and family sticks together. I'm here for you, always" he whispered.

you looked at him, your heartbroken eyes looking into his sincere green ones, seeing the same pain reflected in them. and in that moment, you knew it was right when you leaned in, and he did too.

your lips met that cold, dark, rainy evening, under the shade of the slide set in the park, but your souls had intertwined when you were five, and you could have sworn you had never felt more alive than you did at the moment.

and while your heart broke and sagged with the weight of losing your father so soon, it also ached with love at having charles with you. so when you drew back, still tasting, the salty tears you both had shed, he pulled you back in for a tighter hug.

"toujours là pour toi cherie, toujours."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you lost your dad the following year, in 2016, and charles was by your side at the funeral, watching you cry as you placed a white rose on his casket.

you had never spoken about that kiss again, and neither of you had thought it was the right time to bring it up in the months that followed.

charles watched as your mother, the woman he so admired, crumbled before him, lost without her guiding light. is that how it would ever be if you ever lost him?

the fear that coursed through his heart shocked him. he couldn't imagine what it would be like, to loose someone he loved so dearly.

his father had taken over as a surrogate father for you, and constant support for your mother. but the leclercs knew something that you didn't, their father wasn't keeping very well either, but no one had the heart to tell the l/n's, not when you were already suffering through so much.

after the funeral, there was a small tea at your own house, but you couldn't bear to be there. so at the first opportunity, you slipped away, leaving your mother in pascales care.

you ran, not caring where, until you found yourself at the beach. you sat down, pulling off your shoes and throwing your hat away, before sinking down on your knees to the sand.

you sobbed, salty tears dripping down your face, holding the locket your dad gave you in your hands, and once again, a familiar smell filled your nose as a warm body settled in next to you. charles.

"hi cherie" he whispered, wrapping an arm around you.

"hello" you whispered, mustering up a small smile.

"ma courageuse fille" he whispered softly, making you giggle and sob at the same time.

"i have to be strong for maman" you admitted. "she has no one but me in this world anymore" you whispered, eyes blurring again.

"she has us, always" charles said determinedly. "and we aren't going anywhere" he said, taking your hand in his.

and as the sun set once again, you reminicsed about a simpler, sweeter time, when you and charles where carefree and innocent, not scarred by life and it's harsh realities.

there was something special in that sunset, you noted, resting your head on charles shoulder again. perhaps your papa was trying to indicate that charles was the one for you.

but at the moment, sitting by the beach, in a moment of joined sorrow, you had never felt more human.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

with charles growing success in f2, and you finally getting a record deal, life was going well.

until you were told that herve was not doing well. denial flooded your brain. no. how was this possible? how could god take both the father's in your life to disease and illness?

you screamed and wailed and cursed, too stung, too bitter, about life.

and then the day came, in 2017. when pascale called you sobbing and lorenzo came to your door knocking wildly.

"c'est papa,il ne se réveille pas !! tante laura, qu'est-ce qu'on fait?!'

your mom was out the door in an instant and you followed, following a heartbroken lorenzo to the door of the house you knew so well.

you could hear pascales wails before you even reached, and the easy tears rose again but you forced them down.

you had to be strong for your second family, and with a deep breath, you pushed the door in.

what you saw broke you.

charles, sobbing on the sofa, head in his hands, while arthur sat next to his mother, in tears.

your mother dealt with all the formalities but you stuck to charles, letting him cry into your shoulder, holding him the hold day, whispering how much you loved him and how sorry you were to him, and promising him that he wasn't alone.

you comforted arthur too, holding the boy in your arms, wrapping him in the tightest hug.

you had never felt more respect for Lorenzo, ever the big brother, tears streaming down him face, even though he stayed so strong for his family.

later that evening, you held charles in their balcony, wrapped in a blanket that you had knitted for him.

"i feel so hollow, so empty" he admitted, burying his face deeper into your neck, trying his best to stay grounded by inhaling the scent of your perfume.

"i feel as if a piece of my heart has been snatched away and I'll never be okay again" he admitted, tears filling his eyes for the hundredth time that day.

"i know, charles, believe me I know" you whispered softly to him, running your hands through his hair, "but a wise boy I know once told me, that I was never ever going to be alone. he told me 'even if the day comes when we have to say goodbye to your papa, you will never, ever be alone, not while I am there' and today charles, I am saying the same to you. i know that it hurts like anything right now and that pain will never go away"

"feel that pain charles. it's what makes you human, ma vie,and i know it hurts. but I am here for you. take out all your pain and I will be there to catch you when you fall. i will be there to put you back together when you fall apart. i am here for you ma vie, always" you whispered to him, and he choked out a sob, curling himself into you, never more sure of his love for you.

"i lied and told him I got the ferrari seat" he finally choked out, and with a soft whisper of "oh charles" you pulled him in close.

there it was.

the reason why he felt like his soul was being eaten up inside.

"charles, mon coeur, i promise, you will get that ferrari seat. it will be soon, and you will have kept that promise to your papa, i have a feeling mon coeur, that your future in formula 1 will be as bright and shiny as you, and you are going to get everything you deserve, i know you will"

and he chose to take solace in your words.

just like he took solace in your soul.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:��ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you made your formula 2 debut alongside charles at Baku that year. everyday you were left more in awe of the powerful force that he was, ready to race in less than a week, because he felt he owed it to the man who made him who he was.

so you told him you'd go with him, be his support and be there for him when he needed you to most.

and you were left spellbound yet again, at his talent, his resilience, his drive, his passion.

p fucking 1. at a race that meant the world to him.

and as he ran towards you after, body colliding with yours so hard you swear some of your bones snapped, you told him everything you had to in your embrace.

rough racing gloves on delicate skin, frenzied pulling closer and harsh breathing. thats all you remembered from the moment, looking deep into his emerald ,knowing the media was having a field day.

"I'm so so so so proud of you so fucking proud" you whispered. "and i know your dad is too" you continued, pressing a small kiss to his helmet.

when he stood on the podium, tears streamed down your cheeks. you were so so so proud of him.

and as he looked down at you, he smiled, knowing you were always going to be his brightest star.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Charles' journey is formula 1 started with Sauber but you knew for a fact that he wouldn't stay there.

when kimi announced he was leaving ferrari, you called charles and screamed into his ears "YOURE GOING TO GET THAT FUCKING SEAT MARK MY WORDS" and he had simply chuckled saying he was hoping for the best.

so when in the middle of recording a song, your phone rang with charles' name, you dropped everything you were doing and picked up the phone.

"je l'ai fait. j'ai eu le siège"

"quoi?"

"le siège ferrari. j'ai compris. c'est à moi. je vais être pilote de ferrari pour 2019"

the scream you let out was so loud your producer jumped out of his skin.

"I'm so proud of you!! J'ai toujours su que tu l'aurais, tu mérites le monde et plus encore!!" you screamed, tears streaming down your face and you heard charles laugh.

"merci, mon cherie. i will celebrate with you soon" he chuckled.

"obviously you will!! I'll be home soon, let me just finish this album first and then I am all yours" you laughed.

oh how you longed to be all his. it's all you'd ever wanted since you were a teenager.

charles' heart ached.

oh how he longed for you to be all his. it was all he'd ever wanted since he was a teenager.

later that day, you wrote the song feels like.

social media had a breakdown.

charles had a breakdown.

but that's mainly because he'd rather you wrote a love song about him.

unbeknownst to him, you had atleast a 100 lovesongs written about him.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

clicking your pen for the hundredth time, you let out a sigh.

this songwriting thing was so frustrating.

it seemed like you had a billion ideas but nothing compact came out of it.

with a deep sigh, you let your hand crash against the piano, letting the discordant notes ring in your apartment.

but the ending caught your attention.

humming, you grabbed your pen again, jotting down, scribbling down all the things you wanted to say but never would.

being a singer had always been, and just as charles was flourishing in his career, you were flourishing in yours. you had already won a grammy for your album 'nostalgia' and had won amas, Brit awards, and 2 vma awards.

'the rising star of pop' was what they affectionately called you.

you had stunned the world with your versatility and range and the depth of your songs. ballads like gravity and last kiss had shown your emotional depth. songs like when I get there and make you feel my love had showing your delicate, romantic, vulnerable side. songs like happier reflected your pain.

your song fat funny friend had shot you into the global scene when you released it as a single. millions of fans wrote to you, thanking you for being vulnerable so others could feel seen.

and of course, no one picked up on the secret ballads for charles, pinning it down to young love and romance that was usual for all people your age.

so as you finally finished the song and smiled, you knew they wouldn't guess for this one either.

but you would know.

and so you sent it to be your next single.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

summer break rolled around, and you had a new mission - confessing your feelings for charles.

you were sure the timing was right.

you had to tell your best friend in the whole world that you were madly in love with him.

you told pascale, who squealed and told you "welcome to the family officially!!' earning a laugh from you.

"let me tell the boy first maman, then I'll tell you what he says"

"of course he'll say he loves you too! i know my son cherie, he's been in love with you since you were children, he's just too stupid to do anything about it" she joked affectionately and you laughed.

"j'espere que tu as raison maman. i love him very much" you admitted, blushing a little.

"of course darling. come to dinner tonight, everyone will be there, you can tell him then" she smiled, and you got up to go get dressed, pressing two kisses to her cheek.

back home, you nervously scouted your cupboard to see what you could wear. you showered and washed your hair, and put on a red dress that charles had gifted you when he got his seat.

smiling at the memory, you put on your makeup, did your hair and took a deep breath.

you were really going to do it. you were going to tell the man you had loved your whole life that you loved him.

the drive to the leclercs house was nerve wracking, and ringing the doorbell to their home was even more nerve wracking. you saw lorenzo there already, and he rose to greet you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"how are you y/n? i haven't spoken to you in a long time no?" he asked, sitting down next to you.

"I'm good enzo, very busy with recording. howve you been? I'm sorry i haven't been keeping in touch, I've just been very busy" you apologised, feeling guilty for not spending a lot of time with the oldest Leclerc.

"don't be silly, soeur, i understand you are busy. and your music, it's been a joy to listen to. you're truly a talent, ma belle" he said, and you could feel yourself getting emotional.

"aw, enzo, meri beaucoup, votre avis est très important pour moi" you said, giving him another hug.

he poured you a glass of wine, a small smile playing on his lips.

"so, is tonight finally the night?" he asked with a smirk, remembering how smitten you were for his brother.

you blushed, taking a sip of your wine to cover for it.

"yes, I'm going to tell him tonight" you admitted and he flashed you a warm smile of encouragement.

"Tell who what?" a voice interrupted, and the youngest leclerc plopped himself down next to you.

"y/n/n's going to tell charlie she loves him" lorenzo stated matter of factly, making you Tut and whack his arm.

"quoi? are we not telling arthur?" he asked, feigning hurt.

"i was going to tell him" you whined and then you turned to arthur.

"you must swear to not bring this up until it's over okay?" you told arthur, trying and failing to be stern.

arthur pretended to be hurt.

"of course I won't? what do you take me for, a gossip box?"

"yes" you and lorenzo chimed in unison.

arthur gasped dramatically, making you roll your eyes.

"do you really think that low of me?" he asked, pretending to cover his eyes in agony.

"yes, now shush, i think i heard the bell ring" Lorenzo said, getting up to open the door.

you bit your lip nervously, preparing for charles to walk in the day.

and he did. he looked gorgeous as ever, in a shirt the cover of deep red wine, hair tousled by the wind on his drive, but his eyes and smile were as bright as ever.

your heart started beating so fast you swore you almost had a heart attack.

but nothing could have prepared you for what he said next.

"everyone, i want you to meet charlotte"

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a/n - aaaand drum roll please 🥁 cliffhanger!!

i promise i won't leave you hanging but this was getting too long and it needed some ✨spice✨ i know this wasn't the best and the timeline wasnt cohesive but I needed to get this out of my system so pls go easy on your girl.

feedback, comments,opinions, reblogs and likes are always appreciated 🩷

hope you had a good read!! much love always xoxo

taglist -

everything - @hopefulinlove @bluesongbird @roslastyles420

f1 - @theonly1outof-a-billion

to be added to the taglist send me an ask, dm or comment 🩷

masterlist

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[russellsppttemplates]

Baby Herve becomes sick for the first time, and reader and Charles are worried.

Cw: kid's sickness

"Hi amour, I got your text", Charles spoke as he drove to the pharmacy per your request, "what's the matter?".

"Hervé caught something in nursery and he's not feeling great", you explained, "can you buy those medications I sent just now, please?", you asked, "of course, amour, I'll be home as soon as I can", your heard him blow you a kiss.

When Charles got home, the sight would be delicious if he didn't know how sick your son was. Hervé was cuddled up to your chest, mouth open so he could breathe better and fists clutching your top, "hello, I've got the medicine goods", Charles announced, setting the bag on top of the coffee table and sitting on the sofa next to you, kissing your lips and Hervé's cheek, "how is he?".

"He's fussy and keeps coughing, and he's breathing a little through his mouth", you explained, "I've been taking boogies out of his nose with that thing", you pointed to the device you had insisted you wouldn't need when you bought it and were humbly proved wrong today when you saw how well it worked, "but we're making do. He's not feverish, so it's just something to make him get all this yucky out, isn't it, my love?", you cooed, kissing his forehead.

"Do we need to go to the doctors?", Charles asked, feeling for fever on your son's skin but being met with regular temperature, "I spoke to his pediatrician and she said that for now it would be worse for him because he'd be exposed to many other bugs, and he's not so bad according to her", you offered, "I wasn't too sure, but she assured me that we could keep texting her, she's on call".

"That's reassuring, at least", he said, "just hate seeing him like this, he's usually so bubbly", he pouted, "I'll get started on dinner, call me if you need anything, okay?".

After dinner, Charles swapped with you, Hervé sleeping on his chest as his hand rubbed his back, helping his clean his nose and lungs, "such a good boy, Hervé", he encouraged despite the initial fuss with the wipe and tube, "Mama and papa just want you to feel better, buddy, that's all".

(Thank you for submitting an ask ✨️)

[freyjhasdesiredreality]

Sweet Whispers (Charles Leclerc x Reader)

(Credits to GIF owner)

A/N: Hey guys! This was supposed to be shared on Sunday but life got into my way. But it's here! I've been looking for some inspiration and comfort honestly then this happened, hope you enjoy! Marvel story will be a little bit late for this week. As a reminder English is not my first language and grammar mistakes are my own.

WC: 2.5k+

Warnings: Mention of an accident (Not Charles or you), pet names, Google translated French, pure fluff, idiots are in love. Let me know if I missed any. Not proofread!

When you met Charles, you both still had diapers. Your families were so close. When you were 7, your family was involved in a terrible car crash. You somehow survived without even a scratch, waiting for your family on the doorstep of the hospital. They never survived so you just looked at the door crying. Herve and Pascale obviously couldn't leave you there, so they took you in as their own daughter. 

Charles wasn't an ordinary child. He had gifts from the god. The way he drove those cars didn't go unnoticed. You on the other hand had amazing drawing skills. Herve was aware of your talent, so he took you to Charles' races all the time. While you were drawing Charles from your perspective in the audience seat, you supported him. Charles loved your drawings and even cried a little when you gifted him the picture you drew while little Charles was lifting his first trophy on his first F1 debut. 

Everybody except you and Charles knew you had something different between you. A different chemistry. It wasn't something like between you and Arthur and Lorenzo. You had a sibling bond with them. But with Charles it was different. You both claimed it wasn't different than that but it was obvious. Your love was a different kind of love. Although they decided to wait until you realized yourselves. 

When he started changing countries to race, he offered you to stay in his house, so you didn't have to pay rent and could focus on your art. He secretly loved having you around. He loved your smell that permeated in his house. 

-

"Mon ange, I'm home," he called from the door. He heard your hurried footsteps coming from upstairs and smiled, closing the door.

"Welcome back, mon cher," you rushed into his arms to hug. It was definitely your safe place in this cruel world. 

"You cuddle so tight, missed me already?" he teased. You nodded without even answering. He smiled and kissed your hair before he let you go. 

"I've made pasta, just for you," you went to the kitchen and he followed you. "Are you hungry?" you asked. He nodded, his green eyes glowed when he saw you've made his favorite pasta. You took two plates, filled them and put them on the counter. "Bon appétit, ma chérie."

You two ate your meal, the conversation between you two never cooled off. He even offered to do the dishes after the dinner and didn't take no as an answer. 

"Alright, mon miel, I'm going to rest today, but we can plan something for tomorrow if you want," he said, giving you a small kiss on the cheek. 

Every time he kissed you, you felt butterflies on your stomach. It wasn't a lie that Charles was extremely hot but you always kept your feelings to yourself. You didn't want to ruin the friendship with him. You didn't know he felt the same with you but he never had courage to accept, although deep down his heart knew what it felt. His main focus was Formula 1. He didn't want to drug you into his busy world. You deserved more than that. You deserved someone who would make you his top priority, give you all of the time he has in this world. He couldn't give you that. So he stayed quiet. He watched your happiness with other guys. It always ended with your heart being broken. He was always there for you to fix your broken heart. It wasn't always physically but one phone call from him would always light up your world. 

"Would you like to go shopping tomorrow?" you asked. You knew he would never say no to that, but you tried your luck. For some reason he immediately accepted. You clapped your hands and he chuckled while excusing himself to the bed. 

-

You kept turning on the bed, your mind racing with thoughts, making you unable to fall asleep. "Maybe I can sleep if I change where I lay," you thought and took your blanket to sleep on the couch in the living room. You scrolled through Instagram, watched some videos until it drifted you off to sleep. 

You suddenly stirred awake. You tried to understand what happened and what was the time. You came to your senses when you heard sniffles coming from the balcony. You didn't expect to see Charles crying in the middle of the night. 

"Charles?", you whispered with a soft voice. "Everything okay?". You didn't touch him until he reached for your arms. He hugged you tight to find some comfort. His breath was unstable, still crying softly. It broke your heart to see him like that. You ran your hands through his hair, leaving small kisses and whispering sweet words. When he finally calmed down, he couldn't stop himself but left a small kiss on your neck, as a thank you. You bit your tongue to hold your moan. 

"I saw a nightmare," he said, looking at you with red puffy eyes. You wiped the tear from his cheek with your finger softly. He learned into your touch and closed his eyes, desperately needing everything he could get from you.

"Would you like to tell me what you saw?" you answered, he shook his head. You caressed his cheek, giving him a small smile as if to express that you are here for him. 

"You should try to fall back to sleep, mon cher, you must be so tired," you knew he wouldn't just fall back asleep after a nightmare, you didn't actually want him to just go but you also wanted for him the best. You covered your sadness with a soft smile. 

"Can you lay down with me? Please Y/N, I need it. I need your comfort," he begged you. You felt like your heart broke into millions of pieces. "Of course, Charlie, you don't have to ask me twice," he sighed in relief. You held his hand and headed towards his bedroom. The smell of his cologne filled your nose. He laid down to his bed and patted his side. You laid next to him and opened your arms for him. He gladly returned your gesture, using your chest as his pillow. 

"So soft," he murmured. "How did you hear me?" he asked. You played with his hair, "I was sleeping on the couch," you answered. He raised your head to look at your face to see if you were being serious. "Really? Why, is it because your bed is not comfortable? I can change-" you interrupted him. "No, not that. It's comfortable, it's just I couldn't fall asleep whatever I tried," you explained. 

He put his head back to your chest, feeling a little better again. "So we both had a bad night, huh?" He started drawing circles on your belly. "I thought it would be easier to sleep, now that I have you right now," he confessed. He kinda regretted his words but they just slipped out of his mouth. "What do you mean?", you asked. He sighed, he knew you would ask, "I wasn't able to sleep last few days," he answered. "Please don't ask me what I have been seeing in my nightmares," he added, hopefully you wouldn't scratch any more. 

Instead you hugged him tighter. He released some tension on your touch, "Close your eyes, mon miel," you whispered. "Stay until I fall asleep?" he asked. You kissed his hair as an answer. At this very moment, you knew Charles was the one for you. Your heart skipped a beat, thinking how you screwed up. These thoughts made you fall asleep. Even before Charles. He was about to say something to you but he stopped himself when he heard your light snores. He smiled to himself and let himself sleep in your arms.

Charles woke up to a stirring under him. He looked up and saw you murmuring something in your dream. He tried to catch your words but it was unrecognizable. "What a fucked up night," he thought to himself. He leaned up to kiss your cheek. He placed a few small kisses on your cheek, chin and neck, hoping it would wake you up and come back to him. "Mon amor, wake up, you're dreaming," he whispered, trying to wake you up. You woke up with a gasp but Charles caressed your cheek to calm you down. "It's okay, it's me, your Charles," he said, trying to soothe you. His hand was everywhere on your head. Playing with your hair first, then caressing your cheek, placing small kisses to anything to get you come to your senses.

You placed your hand to his cheek and looked at him in the eyes to let him know you were better now. "Are you okay?", he said softly. You nodded and looked around you. "What time is it?", he looked at you in disbelief and chuckled. "I took you out of a terrible nightmare and you wonder what time it is?" he tsked. "Oh wow, it's already 7:50," he answered and looked back at you. He was amazed by your beauty, puffy eyes, fluffy hair and a slight hint of red on your cheek, making him kiss and claim you. 

You suddenly get up, tried to rush out of his bed, "I'm sorry, Charles, I didn't mean to fall asleep on your bed, I was going to leave when you slept but-" he jumped on his feet making you shush, "Mon ange, don't be ridiculous, you are always welcome here with me. Plus I slept like a baby with you, can't say the same thing about you though," he teased you.

He cupped your cheek and made you look at him, "What's going on in this pretty head of yours, bébé?" You sighed, tried to look away from his gaze but every time you tried he forced you to look at him, "Just a silly dream, Charlie," you huffed.

He tilted his head, trying to get the words out of your mouth but no matter how hard he tried you didn't give up. "I'll go for a run then I'll pick you up for breakfast, alright?" you nodded and you went to your room for your morning routine. 

-

You couldn't help but think about the dream during breakfast. But after care was even worse. The way he touched you made you crave for more. "You are not listening, mon amor," Charles called out to get your attention back. "Is it about the nightmare?" you sighed, of course he wouldn't let it go. "It was a dream actually," you said. He frowned, "Huh, it felt like you were having a nightmare, so what was it about?" 

You took a deep breath. You wanted to tell him how he held your waist in your dream, how he trapped you between his body and the wall, how he kissed you. You felt your cheeks heathen up. "I don't want to talk about it," you brushed him off. 

He saw the way you blushed whenever he reminded you of the dream. He thought maybe you felt the same thing. You responded to his touch, didn't you? You always called him with pet names, you didn't do that to Arthur or Lorenzo. He knew you always had a different relationship with him, but could it be because you liked him, more than friends?

"We should go out tonight," he offered. You looked at him confused. "I know we agreed on shopping but we both had a bad night, it will be good for us. We'll relieve some stress. No race this weekend, I'm allowed to get drunk for one night," he continued. 

You weren't sure about it. It was obvious you needed that, first he had a bad race, second you missed going out with him. You accepted his offer but mentally noted not to get drunk so you wouldn't spill your darkest secret. 

-

The club was more crowded than you expect it to be. You felt Charles' hand on your waist, holding you close to him. He didn't want you to slip from his hands to someone else. You looked beautiful and he knew French men. They would try to flirt with you, take you home. He couldn't let it happen, not again, not anymore. 

After a few rounds of shots, you both sure were tipsy. He pulled you onto the dance floor, his hands were all over your body except the inappropriate parts. "You look beautiful," he whispered into your ear. You snorted, "And you are drunk." He looked so offended, first he wasn't drunk, second he really thought you looked beautiful as always. Then he thought it was the first time he said this to you in a flirty manner. "Maybe it's the alcohol that encourages me," he thought.

"I mean it, you look hot as fuck, every single guy in the club is right now jealous of me," he said. Yeah, maybe he was a little bit drunk to be tipsy. You blushed, lowered your head so he wouldn't see. He put his fingers on your chin and made you look at him. "Don't ever look away from me again when you blush. I want to see that pretty face of yours when I flirt with you," he said, a possessiveness in his voice. This was the side you've never seen on Charles. He was usually a cute and sweet best friend of yours. Sometimes he flirted with you, but you thought he did that to everyone. 

"You don't know what you are saying Charles," you said, sounding a little disappointed. You wanted to hear these for so long but he never did it while he was sober. "Look, I know I sound drunk, but I really am not. Last night made me realize things that I knew were there but never accepted. I didn't want to accept because I didn't want to get rejected. But damn, Y/N, you have no idea how much I've been wanting to kiss you and make you mine," he confessed. Suddenly he felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders. "You don't have to answer or say it back. I just don't want to pretend like your best friend. Don't get me wrong, I love being your best friend, but I also love you in a different way," he continued. 

Then he knew. The look on your face gave everything away. Charles knew every single thing about you. Every emotion, every gesture and every look. This look on your face was the exact thing he wanted to see. The relief, the happiness you could see on a child when you give them something they want. But most importantly, he saw the same kind of love he wanted to see. 

"Can I kiss you, mon amor?" he asked. You nodded, a smile appeared on your face before he captured your lips and claimed you in front of everyone. When you separated both of you had the biggest smiles you ever had. "I always wanted you to do that," you said and laughed. "Well, maybe spending time after a bad nightmare wasn't so bad," he laughed.

A/N: Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Requests are open for both F1 and Marvel!!

[destroymeinherz]

The Party

A little while back someone posted about a fantasy of being passed around a stethoscope party, with different people listening to their heart. I don’t remember who did so if it was you, I hope you like this. It sparked creativity,

I could continue if anyone wants another part. But I wanted to do the basic idea.

The Party

I’d just signed with a modeling agency. It wasn’t the most exclusive, sometimes the jobs weren’t exactly what I hoped but college was expensive, so I took what I could. How bad could it be? It’s not like I planned to run for office or something.

My agent called me after classes one afternoon asking if I’d be interested in a gig that was more unconventional. After a few basic questions for my safety, nothing seemed too offensive even if it was secretive, and a rep from the agency would be there in case of trouble, I decided to take it.

Friday night I arrived at a big mansion just outside the city. From the looks of it this was old money, probably descendants of oil barons and railway tycoons. Which meant the paycheck would be huge. They’d promised a large payout for anyone who stayed til midnight.

I was let into a large foyer and usher back to a small hallway to a butlers parlor. A woman checked my ID, checked my name off a list and then looked me over.

“You will be required to wear one of two outfits tonight,” She instructed, pulling two hangers off a rack of clothes. “Black is standard, you are willing to do anything that would be clothes on. Call it PG-13.”

She held up a black Herve Luger bandage dress for emphasis. Then in her other hand, she held up a red one nearly identical to the former.

“Red,” She continued. “You are open to sexual behavior, and by wearing red you are giving consent to sexual advance,”

Well, I was single and I was never a prude, so I took the red. Might as well have a bit of fun. Once I accepted my color choice, she handed me an iPad with a waiver basically stating that I would take proper precautions, assert myself and under no circumstances attempt to contact anyone I met here after the event. I would ask for aid if I felt unsafe and leave without a scene. If I did not make it to midnight, I’d be compensated $200 per hour worked.

I shrugged and signed. She then held back a curtain for me to change in a small closet. I slipped inside, squeezed into the dress and as I was ushered to a door she fit me with a bracelet.

“If you need out, press the red button. Security will extract you.” She informed. “Are you ready?”

I blinked. Extracted? My heart started to pound, suddenly feeling crushed by the tight dress. What did I get myself into. But… the money was clouding my judgement. So I nodded, and the door opened. Once I cleared the threshold, it closed behind me.

Just walk around. Be eye candy. That was my only instruction. So that is what I did.

The room was a parlor, antique and dimly lit. It was full of golds and deep rich red textiles, dark wood and gold finishes. Old leather bound editions of classic literature adorned the bookshelves. I felt like I’d gone back in time. Or I was in a vampire’s house. My heart thudded at the thought.

The room was also full of people, in fine clothes, expensive tuxes and dresses. All of them wore masks like a masquerade. As I started to work through the crowd they watched me, with hungry eyes. Maybe I was in a vampire’s den. I was about to be dinner. There were a few other girls dressed in the red or black, varying heights and hair colors and skin tones.

I swallowed and tried to will my poor heart to stop trying to escape my chest. Until finally, a man approached me.

“Well, aren’t you lovely,” He said, holding out his hand.

I took his hand, and he brought it to his lips. He then moved his fingers down my wrist, stopping to feel my pulse. He offered him a soft smile. Then, he nodded before he motioned a waiter over.

The waiter came with a silver cloche, removing the dome top and extending the tray to the man. But there wasn’t food. It was a line of various stethoscopes. His fingers danced along them as he made his selection, a red tube that matched my dress.

He waved the man off, then examined it before placing the buds in his ears.

“Now, deep breath for me. Like a doctor’s office.” He said as he placed the diaphragm on my chest,

I was surprised, but I did as he asked, breathing in deeply and feeling my heart kick in my chest. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.

He must have enjoyed the sound of my heart because he moved the diaphragm around my chest, smiling to himself and eventually he stopped. He listened for a long time, and even behind a mask I could see his eyes were closed.

I blushed. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump

Finally, he opened his eyes and moved the diaphragm away. He took the ear pieces out and looked around. Then he must have seen who he needed, because he waved to someone.

“You have a perfect heart, my dear.” He said.

“Uh, thanks…” I replied.

Another man approached, he also had a stethoscope. He looked to the first man oblivious to me and waited for why he’d been called over.

“I think she’s the one. Take a listen.”

The new man finally looked at me. I smiled at him but he simply leaned in with his own stethoscope and listened to my heart. I took a deep breath like I had before.

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump

“I think you’re right,” He replied. ��Take her in, I’ll grab the others.”

The others? I blinked in surprise. Is this all it was? A bunch of cosplayers listening to my heart for a few hours? That didn’t seem so bad. Even if they wanted to listen to it during sex or something. That was actually, kinda hot.

“Come with me,” The first man said.

I nodded as he took my hand again. This time he lead me down another hallway to a different room. He opened the door and brought me in, then closed it behind me. It was more of a sitting room with a beautiful chaise in the center, raised up on a platform.

I recognized some medical equipment from various movies or doctors visits. Nothing seemed too concerning.

“Now, lay down on the chaise,” He instructed. “You may stay clothed for now. But do remove your shoes as to not damage the upholstery.”

I did as he asked. Once I was settled, he returned to my side. He brought the steth out again and gently placed it on my chest. He let out a content sigh as he listened to my heart pound.

As he listened, others started to fill the room. They lined up behind him. I had never expected anything like this. Just lay here and let them hear my heart beat.

“Before we continue, could I get you anything? Water, soda, wine?”

I smiled. “What would you like me to have?”

“Oh you are cheeky.” He grinned. “Perhaps a little caffeine, to stimulate you. What does everyone think?”

There was a nod of agreement from the group and some muttering of approval. The first man smiled and had one of the caterers being me a soda can on a platter with a straw beside it.

“Go ahead and open it, then use the straw to limit your movement to drink.” He instructed.

I did as he asked. Once the can was open and the straw was in, in leaned over to the table where it sat and drank a few gulps. As I did, the man placed the diaphragm on my chest again.

He closed his eyes, listening and seemingly very content with the sound. Finally he opened them, took my hand and kissed the back of it. He stepped aside and the next person in line stepped up.

There was no clock in the room but it felt like time slowed in this room. Each person took their turn stepping up to my seat and just listening to my heartbeat. Some had me drink the soda, some had me lay down, some had me sit and stand quickly. I’d stand there and pant through running in place and jumping jacks in a too tight dress, as they listened to my heart’s reaction and then recovery.

Ba-dumpba-dumpba-dumpba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump

I had to admit, this was fun.

The last person was a woman, she couldn’t have been much older than me. She seemed more keen then the men had. Her eyes were bright behind her mask. She took a deep breath as her gold and white stethoscope settled on my chest.

“My… your heart… it’s by far one of the loveliest I’ve heard.” She said to me, her voice was lustful. “May I rest my head on your chest? Hear it directly with my ear?”

“Sure. I don’t see why not.” I replied.

“Would you like to hear your heart while I do?” She removed the stethoscope and offered it.

The people in the room all watched, eager to see how I would respond. Well, why not? If it made them happy it was my job tonight. I don’t think I’d ever heard my heartbeat before, not like this anyway.

“Okay. Sure” I replied with a smile.

That was the right answer as she grinned with excitement and placed the ear pieces in my ears. Then she placed the diaphragm down on my skin and rested her ear next to it.

I inhaled as I had before and my head filled with the rhythmic thumping they’d all been indulging in for the last few hours.

Ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump

I closed my own eyes and lost myself in the sound. Maybe I should come to these parties more often. Hearing the steady beat, knowing it was mine… that was intoxicating.

“Do you like it?” She asked.

“Yeah. I think I get the vibe.” I responded.

“Are you ready to try something a little more interesting?” The first man asked, approaching me slowly. “You can refuse any of the requests, we won’t take offense or change your compensation. These would be granting special requests.”

The stethoscope was removed from my ears and I almost whined about it. I liked hearing my heart, understanding what they were hearing. What they enjoyed that brought me here.

“Sure,” I said. “What do you have in mind?”

End?

[il-predestinato]

Excerpts from the Charles Leclerc biography "le prodige" by Rémi Boudoul:

Charles never cried during a movie.

He prefers a bigger seat because he likes to move a bit while racing because that's how he "feels" the track.

Charles is scared of spiders and snakes. 🕷🐍

Charles said he would love to try MotoGP but he doesn't know if Ferrari would allow him. But if he had to choose, he would like to try a Rallye car one day.

Joris (Charles's best friend):

"Money, glory, love, nothing has changed Charles. He is still the same as before. I met Charles in 6th grade, we were almost enemies, because we both fell in love with same girl until we figured out that neither of us will end up with her."

"On Sundays we usually receive a text shortly after the race. Charles talks with us about the strategy, what happened and so on. As soon as he is in Monaco he calls us and we have a dinner. Quite often pasta or pizza. Charles is always available for his true friends."

Charles:

"One day when I was karting, Michael Schumacher was doing some F1 test. It was a really special moment. I remember entering the paddock and we had the chance to meet him, it was very exciting. Fortunately there was not a lot of people, so he took some time to talk to us."

"He [Schumacher] signed our suits, talked with us before going back to his garage. It was really sweet and I was very impressed. I don’t even remember what we were talking about because all I could focus on was his red suit. I never thought I would one day drive for the red team."

"My first memory of Maranello was with Jules. He had a photoshoot and he tried to make me come inside with him but it didn’t work, so I had to wait outside. But it was then when I realized that the whole town was dedicated to Ferrari."

"I sat outside, in the parking lot for two hours, trying to imagine what the inside of the building looked like. In my head I was picturing something like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with the Oompa Loompas running around."

"On my father's funeral day, I had the authorization to drive the hearse… We drove a bit in the town before going to the cemetery. It was tough you know. No matter what you do, nothing prepares you when you lose your father. I’ve become more mature because losing him made me have more responsibilities out of the blue, making me grow as a man. Mentally I’m stronger than ever after losing my father so early in my life. This changes you forever."

Did I need psychological help back then? No, I stayed alone in a corner. I rather wanted to think by myself and prepare the race. I never thought of not driving in Baku. My dad was my number one fan. He wanted me to be good at each race, so no there was never a doubt because I was sure he would have wanted me to be there and to win for him.

"Do I love winning or do I hate losing? Well both but I guess I hate losing more because when something goes wrong, I’m really upset."

Pascale (Charles's mother):

"Charles on track and at home are two different people. With his father, he was always talking about cars. Racing was Herve’s life. He has that in his blood. Charles was lucky, he received a lot from his father."

Translation by Vetteleclerc.

[richarlotte]

Just had a four hour dinner that went by in a second. Now I’m struggling into an Uber Black; the Herve Leger dress I got for $20 served me well, I have a celebratory bottle of champagne, I'm exhausted and need to be back at my hotel ASAP, and I secured a bid. Charlotte up by a million; time to do it all again tomorrow night.

[lovelyleclercs]

Chapter Three- In Denial

Arthur Leclerc x Sofia Sine

-> Arthur finally learns the truth about Sofia's illness.

warnings- this chapter is a bit brutal, I'm not going to lie. Mentions of cancer, fainting, puking, Herve's passing, angry Arthur, crying, if you have read the original version of this story, you already know

word count: 2948

Sofia laid in bed, staring at her ceiling as she tried to build up some courage to get herself out of bed. It had been 7 days since her first treatment, and she was feeling the worst that she had felt all week. No matter what she tried to do to get more energy in her system to do even the simplest things, nothing seemed to be working.

As she glanced over at the clock, she noticed that it was nearly 8pm. She had gotten a text from Arthur earlier that day, asking if she would like to come out with him for dinner that night. Sofia had agreed, thinking that she would be strong enough to do so within a few hours time- she was very, very wrong.

Sofia grabbed her phone to send a text to Arthur, however as she was typing the message, she heard a snippet of his voice coming from downstairs. Sofia turned her focus to the conversation happening between Arthur and Charlotte, hoping that she would be able to understand what the two of them were saying to each other.

“She told me at like noon that she wanted to go out to dinner with me.. It’s the first time she has agreed to do anything in nearly a week..”

“I know Arthur, but she is really sick right now and I just don’t think it is a good idea for her to go out tonight. It’s not safe for her…”“What do you mean it’s not safe?”

“Arthur, it isn’t my place to tell you what’s going on with her. She is going through a lot right now and she is scared, sick and hurting. You need to understand that the best thing for her right now is to stay at home.”

“Well can I spend some time with her upstairs in her room then?”

Charlotte nodded, knowing that Arthur would go up there regardless. “That’s fine. I’m not sure if she is awake or not though.”

Without another word, Arthur made his way up to Sofia’s room, knocking on the door gently. “Sof? It’s me… Charlotte said that going out tonight wasn’t a good idea.. So I figured I could just hang with you here tonight? We could watch a movie?”

Sofia looked over at the door, knowing that a very clueless Arthur was standing on the other side, dying to see her with his own two eyes. “Come in”

When Arthur walked in, he closed the door behind him and made his way over to Sofia’s bed, sitting down on the edge of it as he looked up at her with worried eyes. “Sof? Are you ok? Charlotte was just saying some things that made me worried… What’s going on?”

Sofia couldn’t look him in the eyes at that moment. “Arthur I-”“I’m your best friend, Sof. You can tell me anything… I’m really worried about you… please…”

“How about we watch a movie? Ok? I’m really tired…”Arthur looked at Sofia, noticing how exhausted she was just from their small exchange. While he wanted answers, he also didn’t want to put Sofia through anything else as it was obvious to him she had been having a rough week. With a hesitant nod, Arthur climbed into bed and opened his arms for Sofia, allowing her to cuddle up to him, resting her head on his chest. “I promise… I will tell you eventually.. It’s just a hard thing for me to process and telling you would make it all so… real. You know?”

Arthur nodded and rubbed Sofia’s back gently, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he listened to her talk. “I know, Sof. It’s just hard because I know you’re struggling and I can’t help you if I don’t know what is going on.. But part of me thinks that’s why you don’t want to tell me what’s going on.”

Sofia stared at the wall across from her as she pressed her head closer to Arthur’s chest, allowing her to listen to his heartbeat closely. “I’m sorry, Art, I know it’s not an easy thing for you to understand…”

“Let’s just watch the movie, ok? You will tell me when you want to, and that is ok. For now, lets just drop it before we get upset with each other”

Sofia nodded and pulled the comforter over the two of them, her attention turning towards the TV where ‘The Age of Adaline’ played. It was one of Sofia’s absolute favorite movies and one that Arthur had grown to love as well.

As Sofia watched Adaline sit in a diner with her daughter, she couldn’t help but notice how heavy her eyes had begun to feel. Even just the smallest conversation with Arthur had taken everything out of her, leaving her weak and exhausted. She felt her body relax against Arthur’s, her exhaustion slowly taking over her as she drifted asleep. Arthur knew better than to try and leave now. If Sofia fell asleep on him, he was spending the night at her house, no questions asked. It was sort of a mutual agreement the pair had made a few years back.

“You’re getting tired, Art. Maybe I should go home…” Sofia said as she played with Arthur’s hair a bit, trying to move her legs out from underneath his head. It had only been two days since Herve’s passing and Sofia hadn’t left Arthur’s side since. The two of them had spent the past 48 hours hidden up in his bedroom with little to no sleep as they both mourned the loss of Herve. They had turned on a random movie for some background noise and Arthur had laid in Sofia’s lap, crying the pain away as he thought of his father again.

“Please… don’t leave me. Stay here…” Arthur begged, his hand squeezing Sofia’s tightly as a few more tears slid down his cheek.

Sofia looked down into his eyes, wiping a few tears off of his cheek as she nodded, agreeing to stay by his side. “Ok, ok. I’m not going anywhere, Art. I’m right here” she whispered

Arthur sat up and laid down, Sofia following suit to allow Arthur to cuddle up to her. As she laid on her back with Arthur cuddled into her side, she gently rubbed his back. “I love you, Art. We will get through this, I promise. One step at a time.”

Arthur nodded, wiping a few of his tears away as he finally calmed himself down. “Can we make a promise to each other?” he whispered, his voice still shaky from crying.

“Of course, what is it?”“If one of us is going through a hard time, we stay the night with each other? I feel like I sleep so much better when you’re around”

Sofia smiled a little, knowing that she also always seemed to sleep a bit better with the comfort of Arthur being near. “Of course, Art. I love that idea..”

Arthur held his pinky finger up to Sofia, indicating that he wanted to seal the promise. Sofia locked her finger with Arthur’s and smiled. “I get to break your pinky if you break it!”

Sudden movement from Sofia snapped Arthur out of his thoughts, all of his attention turning towards her as he watched her make her way to the bathroom. “Sof?” he asked, but received no response in return.

Arthur got out of bed and made his way over to Sofia, just in time to catch her as she had become too weak to stand. “Oh my god, Sof… Are you ok?” he asked as he held onto Sofia as tightly as he could.

Sofia laid her head back against his shoulder, her eyes closed as she gave him a gentle nod. All of the commotion caused Charles and Charlotte to appear out of their room. “What is going on out here?” Charlotte mumbled as she rubbed her eyes, still half asleep.

“Arthur.. I need to talk to you.. In my room please..” Sofia said as she looked over at Charles and Charlotte, indicating that it was time to tell Arthur the truth. Hiding it from him was becoming too much, and she couldn’t keep pretending like she was ok anymore. Charlotte gave her a small, reassuring nod before heading back into her room with Charles.

“Sof, you just practically fainted in my arms, you can’t just act like everything is ok, we need to get you to the hospital or something!”

“Art, please. Can I please just speak to you in my room…” Sofia pleaded, looking into his eyes as she squeezed his hand tightly. After a few moments, Arthur had finally given her a small nod and helped her walk back into her room.

Sofia sat down on her bed and motioned Arthur to come sit down beside her. When Arthur was situated in his spot on the bed, Sofia took a deep breath. No part of this conversation was going to be easy. She knew that. But it needed to happen. She grabbed Arthur’s hand and looked up at him, tears already forming in her eyes. “I’ve been avoiding telling you for weeks because I.. I don't want you to drop everything to take care of me.”

“You’re stalling, Sof. What is going on..”

“I’m sick, Arthur. I have cancer…”

Arthur’s heart sank. He had already lost his father to this horrible illness, and now he had to watch Sofia go through the same thing? “How long have you known..”

Sofia looked down, knowing that answering his question would only upset him more. She could lie to him, tell him that she only found out yesterday, but she knew that the truth would get out eventually and it would cause an even bigger uproar.

“How long, Sofia?!” Arthur asked, practically shouting at that point.

“Since the beginning of January at the doctor's visit I had when you were in Ibiza” Sofia said quietly, her eyes unable to meet his.

“You’ve known for over a month? And you decided not to tell me!?” Arthur shouted, looking at Sofia in complete disbelief. How could she keep this from him for so long??

Sofia looked up at him, tears falling down her cheeks. She was too weak to fight back, too weak to explain to him that she was sorry, and too weak to even get up to hug him and promise him that everything was going to be ok.

“Unbelievable! All this time I thought I did something wrong! Everytime you canceled on me I was convinced that I had said something to you that ruined our friendship, instead you were sitting at home fighting off cancer???”

As Sofia stared at him some more, wanting to say a million things but having no energy to do so, Arthur finally had enough and decided to grab his phone off of the bed before making his way to the door.

“Arthur… please…”

Before Sofia could say anything else, Arthur had walked out the door, making it obvious that he was in no mood to continue the conversation. Arthur made his way downstairs, being stopped by Charles just as he was about to walk out the door. “Mate, where are you going? It’s like.. 3am you shouldn’t be going out there this late”

Arthur looked over at Charles with tears in his eyes. “Did you know about this?”

“Know about what?”

“Sofia’s cancer diagnosis”

Charles looked at Arthur and nodded hesitantly. “I found out by accident. I wasn’t supposed to know”

Arthur just shook his head and let out a sarcastic laugh. “I’m so pissed off I could fucking punch something” he mumbled as he rested his elbows on the counter and put his face in his hands. “This isn’t fucking fair!” Arthur yelled as he began crying into his hands.

Charles sat down beside Arthur and rubbed his back a little. “I know. I don’t know how this is happening to another person we love and care about.. But it is.”

“She is twenty fucking years old, Charles. It’s not fair. She’s too young for this… she doesn’t deserve this.. I can’t lose her too.. Fuck!!” Arthur cried, allowing himself to completely break down in Charles’ arms. Arthur was never typically a vulnerable guy, but right now he needed comfort more than ever.

Just as Charles was about to say something, Sofia appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, her own face filled with tears as she watched Arthur fall apart. She had done this to him, she was the reasoning behind his pain- and she felt absolutely horrible for it. “A-art i-im sorry…” she whispered, looking at him from across the kitchen.

“Why… why didn’t you just tell me…” Arthur asked quietly as he lifted his head up and made eye contact with Sofia.

Sofia sniffled and took a few steps closer to him. “You start your first season of F2 soon.. I didn’t want you to drop everything for me…”

“Sofia, you are my best friend.. If something is wrong with you, I want to know about it!”

Sofia nodded a little “I know, Art. You are my best friend, and by far one of the most important people in my life. That’s why I was scared to tell you. I didn’t want you to treat me differently, I didn’t want you to worry, but most of all I didn’t want you to be reminded of everything you had to go through with papa.”

Arthur looked down at the floor, not knowing what else to say to her.“My intentions were never to hurt you, Art. I was only trying to protect you, but clearly I’ve done the one thing I didn’t want to do, and for that I’m sorry.”

There were a few moments of silence, neither Sofia or Arthur knowing what to say next. After thinking that their conversation was over, Sofia turned around and started making her way towards the kitchen door, only to be stopped by Arthur’s voice suddenly filling the room.

“You helped me so much when papa died, Sof. I want nothing more than to be able to help you through the hardest moment of your life.. To help you heal and get better, to help you through this horrible illness.. To help you feel comfortable and safe.. But I can’t do that if you aren’t honest with me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn't hurt right now.. I understand why you wanted to keep it from me but it doesn’t make it any easier to process…” Arthur said as he got up and made his way over to Sofia. When he reached her, he grabbed both of her hands gently and started rubbing small circles on the backs of her hands. “I want to know everything from here on out, ok. Every appointment, every update, everytime you feel gross, whenever you need comfort, whenever you want company.. All of it, Sof. I want to know about it all. Please…”

“Art, you have to foc-”

“Don’t even say I have to focus on racing right now. You quit your dream job to be by my side 24/7 when papa was sick. You gave up everything just to make sure that I wasn’t alone. I'd give up racing in a heartbeat if it meant that you didn’t have to go through this alone.”

At that point, Sofia had run out of things to say. There was no use in arguing the matter with Arthur- he was set on making sure he was by her side every step of the way. “My next treatment is in two days. Each treatment is about three hours long, after that I come home and rest until the next one.”

“I’ll be there. I promise. For now though, let's head back up to bed. You’re exhausted, and honestly so am I.”

With a quick nod, Sofia slowly started to make her way back to her room. She had used pretty much all of the energy she had to come downstairs in the first place, so she was pretty much worn out. Arthur obviously didn’t fail to notice how much Sofia had been struggling and in one quick swoop, he lifted her up into his arms. “I’ve got you, Sof” he whispered before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Sofia laid her head on Arthur’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck to secure herself a bit better as Arthur carried her up to her room. Arthur very gently placed her down into her bed and pulled the covers up over her.

“Is that good? Do you need anything else?”

Sofia shook her head and held her arms open for him. “Remember our promise?”

Arthur smiled a little and nodded before climbing into the other side of the bed, allowing Sofia to cuddle up to him as she wanted.

“Thank you” Sofia said quietly as she laid her head on Arthur’s chest.

“For what?”

“You had every right to walk out those doors today. To leave me in the dust and on my own to get through this. You were mad at me and at the universe, yet you chose to stay here and support me.”

Arthur rubbed Sofia’s back gently and sighed. “Sof, I could never leave you to fight this alone. Never. So don’t thank me.”

Sofia nodded and cuddled into him a bit more. “Get some sleep, Art. We need it..”

Arthur pulled the blankets over the two of them and turned out the light that was on next to him. “Goodnight, Sof.”

“Goodnight, Art.”

Chapter Four

taglist: @hammickk @Cl16msc47 @majkaftorek @04ashely16 @itsrogersstufff @polyjuiceslytherin @lizziebitch33 @viktorie16

[watchtheblog]

as always, hello to my 9 true real life friends, the 22 of you in close friends, my 40 internet besties, the handful of you i was able to lure over here with a LiNk iN BiO, at least one of the girls who copy and pasted my internet persona for her 200 followers, some other weirdos, biters, and haters (and their partners), my therapist if i ask her to read this to understand me better, and anyone else who is here and can read this!! 

as a preface to a list of extravagant gifts i wish to receive for my birthday (tuesday, 26 september), i am going to tell you a little story. if you don’t care and just want to buy me a gift or just want to use this to curate yours, scroll to the bottom. (if you need inspiration from years past, i’ve been making this list for 10 years.)

without further silliness: it’s been a few years since i’ve expressed my disdain for traditional “fun” but what better time than on the eve of the eve of my birthday to dive back into it.

i define traditional fun as anything social, anything that involves hanging out with multiple friends, or any activity that takes place at a “venue” or anywhere there are dozens to hundreds or more people present doing what one would describe as “having a good time”.

if it’s a: gathering, get together, party, or event, it’s a: no.

i’d rather be run over by a lime scooter than sit at a dinner with more than 3 people i know, and if a new person is involved, “meeting me” better be on their bucket list because the *stranger to acquaintance* pipeline crashed in 2018 when a woman propositioned me in whole foods for a raya “friend pass” (again: she was a stranger), conned me out of my phone number, and then proceeded to send me her uber referral link 15 times until i blocked her.

*i should clarify before i go further that i’m not a hater. i’m so happy that people are enjoying themselves. i think everyone deserves to be happy and to smile and laugh and have such a little blast wherever and whenever they want!!! i just do not want to be near anyone who is doing that. ◡̈ *

PDF (public displays of fun) is anathema to me, and for this reason i don’t like to leave my house on the weekends because that’s when most people are convening, rendezvous-ing, coming together in droves to enjoy themselves in shared public space.

a notable exception to this rule is a restaurant or bar, because there will always be some miserable couple having the worst night of their lives or someone in a corner arguing with someone who is gaslighting them at 2:45am.

like me one time, in my “having no respect for myself” era, when an ex boyfriend swallowed a black label burger and then convinced me *i* was being weird for feeling hurt that he was going to take me home and then go see a midnight movie with his friends… on christmas eve.

v funny behavior.

(it was actually v fine because - surprise surprise - i hate movies, and movie theaters… and in all honesty i hated his ass, too.)

anyway! that’s the kind of stuff i love to see going on in public: messy nonsense, the seeds of trauma sprouting, not unflappable joy!!!!!

when i lived in new york during this time of no self-respect, i often found myself doing things i didn’t want to do. like, going to the club.

THE CLUB is a unique coming together of an inexhaustible list of things i do not like: first and foremost: DJs. secondarily: people i don’t know, big groups of people, being in a confined space, men with weird attitudes, herve leger, anyone wearing a “fashion hat”, music, other miscellaneous loud noises, social nepotism, people being coy about doing cocaine, cocaine, moving my body to a beat, being illuminated by phone light, stickiness, dirty bathrooms, unidentified wetness, and i could go on!!

the only thing i like about the club is screaming in close proximity to someone’s ear (although the fact that it’s done out of necessity takes some joy out of it) and one other thing:

that every single time i ever went to the club, without fail, a man would sidle up to my girlfriend after unsuccessfully trying to hit on me and utter some version of “what is wrong with your friend?” to her.

for my birthday, i’d love to attend an event filled entirely with those men.

it’s tuesday, so if you can’t manage to do that, here are the treasures i’d like:

(disclaimer: all i want for my birthday is for me and everyone i love and support and everyone who loves and supports me to be healthy and happy and rich, and for all of their dreams to come true (and for everyone i don’t like to accidentally commit a misdemeanor that hurts no one but is punishable by jail so they can have some time to think and find God), and for you to donate to the boys and girls club if you have the means. but here are some things i think would be funny or nice or stupid to receive:)

the intangible: to mysteriously but unsuspiciously come into 100 million dollars, that i am always perceived as a genius in the daytime, a beauty at night, and a bop on instagram, that when i get married no more than ten people RSVP, that everyone knows i’m joking about starting a cult but that when i start my cult you will all join, that no one i know ever prepares a picnic for me as a gesture of kindness or romance, that people stop misusing the word gaslighting as it takes away from those of us who are working on perfecting the art, to one day start a tequila company and for that to not be corny, for all my bot followers to gain sentience and break free from their bot farm confines to engage with me, that my mouth never writes a check my ass can’t check, to - at whatever cost - gain possession of the remaining episodes of a&e’s deeply perverse and immediately cancelled “adults adopting adults” and put every person on that show in a subterranean jail for life, to be wealthy enough to donate anonymously, for someone to get real about cancelling daylight savings time, that i remain beloved, hilarious, brilliant, and humble, that i am my best friends’ best friend, and that anyone who dislikes me never finds peace (so far so good!).

the ones you can buy:

i hate to say this but if someone doesn’t come up with $4000 and buy me this max mara coat (xs) i am going to have an asthma attack.

a speaker for my house so i can listen to my cult (meditation) a more reasonable version (black)

also to listen to cult (black) - you can engrave these, what a treat

these sheets (white/white; king)

i know this maybe for a man but this maybe also for a man??? (idk?! do men have money?!?!) this in black ok this is exhausting, i’d like a little card holder for my credit cards and it should cost one million dollars if possible thank you for understanding the parameters!!

a trip here, or here but i don’t travel with people so just for one please!! (i’m retired so i can go anytime!!)

a gift card to my dermatologist even though i don’t think you can buy a gift card from him but feel free to take a look at the services (i do hydrafacials, lasers, peels) and mail me some US currency! or be proactive and try to figure it out!!

this sweatshirt

this lighter i like

this necklace

this rattan tray gallivanting as “calfskin”????? lol this is better :) i do not understand what is going on!!!

i just restocked but i will accept you buying this for yourself as a treat a gift to me bc i love it

i’d like to speak to the medium who has a show on bravo, please. this is him. i do not want to be “read” on the tv show. i do not want tickets to see his live show. i want to speak to a dead person through this man. one on one. (you can come if you organize it.)

a baby phat tracksuit - no link bc they’re relaunching (on my birthday…),  but hopefully there’s a tracksuit on there.

here are some watches i’d like: one another one another one an insane one

a flight on emirates first class literally going anywhere!

this gorgeous vase or this one or this one; also this vase

or this one

this room spray (or it’s candle)

this art or this art or this art (i’m only half kidding)

this art or this art or this art

the cade candle from le labo (it’s not sold online i don’t think bc it’s special, like me!)

some gorgeous cartier stationery (i thought they made stationery… and i’m pretty sure they do but it seems they don’t… lol) this is an alt and so is this and these are cute (so i can write thank you cards for everyone who gets me a gift!!!)

ok thank you!!

[howardhawkshollywoodannex]

Ed Helms and Jason Clarke in Chappaquiddick (2017), photographed by Maryse Alberti. Mary was born in Langon, France, and has 100 cinematography credits from a 1984 video. Her entry among my best 1001 is Creed, impressively filming the fight scenes. Her recent credits include My Dinner with Herve, Hillbilly Elegy, and The Andy Warhol Diaries mini-series.

[cosmicpines]

Happy Code Secret Santa, @votederpycausemufins ! You asked for some slice of life friend group but also mentioned you liked Sissi, so I wrote you this piece :) hope you enjoy it! Sorry if the formatting is bad — I’m finishing this from my phone. I will fix it later when I post it to Ao3.

There was no way this could fail, Sissi muses with a satisfied smile as she, Nicholas, and Herve walk down the snow-laden streets in their knitted hats and thick coats, shivering as they made their way into town. Her new boots crunch with every step over the first snowfall of the season, and the frost in the air is doing a number on her lips, she realizes as she runs her tongue over them. With trembling fingers encased in her bright pink mittens, she pulls out a tube of chapstick and, after failing to open it with her slippery mittens three times in a row, holds it out to Herve. He pauses mid-sentence in his conversation with Nicholas, (Something about math homework? She didn’t even realize they had math homework. Whatever.) takes it from her, pulls the cap off, and hands it back, wordlessly and thanklessly, before turning back to Nicholas. Sissi applies a thin layer, recaps it, and shoves it back in her pocket.

“I sure hope we’re going the right way,” she says, cutting Herve off again, who dutifully shuts his mouth. “The last thing I want is to wander around in the cold looking for a bowling alley that doesn’t exist.”

“I looked it up before we left,” Herve sighs, “Don’t you trust me?”

“No, I don’t.” Sissi says, bluntly, “Not after the Burger Barn incident.”

Nicholas starts snickering, and Herve’s cheeks, already tinged pink from the cold, darken even more, and he tightens his scarf. “We got there in the end.”

“I don’t need to dignify that with a response,” Sissi huffs, “All I know is if I’m late to impress Ulrich, I’ll never forgive you!”

He mutters something under his breath that Sissi misses, and Nicholas snickers again. Sissi purses her lips, but decides to ignore them, opting instead to daydream about her plan. Yesterday, at dinner, Sissi was at her usual table, one over from Ulrich and his gang, and doing her daily half-talking to her dweebs,  half-eavesdropping on the other dweebs routine. It was easy enough to overhear that Odd blabbing about how they just “needed to take a day off” and “why don’t they go somewhere together over the weekend.” Jeremie said something about… something… computer-y… but his sweet little Mrs. Einstein  had managed to convince him.

Really, if they didn’t want her to follow them, they shouldn’t talk so loudly.

It was obvious what her course of action should be: meet them at the bowling alley, wearing her new skirt and festive sweater, bowl in the alley right next to them, do a better job than anyone, have a better time than anyone, and totally humiliate them all. Ulrich will be impressed, he’ll come talk to her, and one thing will lead to another and they’ll be in love and everything would be better!

Okay, maybe the plan wasn’t foolproof, but it was an opportunity. And if there was one thing Sissi Delmas never let pass her by, it was an opportunity.

After trudging through the snow for nearly an hour, the blast of cheap heating that hits the trio’s face as they enter the bowling alley could be heaven. Sissi pulls off her hat with a sigh as feeling returns to her face, and she peels off her mittens and shoves them in her pockets. The building is dingy sort of place. The air smells like sweat and pizza. Music that was popular 5 years ago is blaring through the speakers, interrupted by the crashing sound of bowling balls and the screaming of children and, of course, the yelling of one Odd Della Robbia.

“Oh, look out, trouble is here!”

Sissi turns in the direction of his shrill, annoying little voice, and she sees the whole group sitting a few lanes away — two benches facing each other, with Aelita and Jeremie facing her on the far bench, Ulrich glancing over his shoulder and scowling on the close bench, Yumi looking over her shoulder as she stands to take her turn, and Odd leaning against the ball return, waving at her. Ulrich let’s out a loud groan that is audible from across the room as he turns back to their game, but Sissi knows he’s just playing hard to get, as per usual. Ulrich just doesn’t seem to understand that there should be a “get” part of “hard to get.”

Her rehearsed lines from the walk over are pouring out of her mouth in a second as she walks towards them, “Oh, what a coincidence!” Sissi says, meandering over as she pulls off her coat, showing off her white sweater with a smile, Nicholas and Herve following in her wake, “I never expected that you five would know a good way to spend your weekend. Is this where you’re always hiding when you’re not on campus?”

“If it was, it wouldn’t be anymore,” Ulrich mutters, pointedly not looking at her.

Yumi tosses the bowling ball and hits a reasonable chunk of the pins, leaving three on the left side. She walks back towards them, scowling, “Sissi, I’m warning you, if you’re just here to ruin our day, you can get lost.”

“Yumi, dear, I cannot believe you would say that!” Sissi turns to look at Nicholas and Herve, feigning shock, “When have I ever tried to ruin your day?”

All of the others start talking at the same time, listing off different occasions, and Sissi interjects with a, “Okay, okay, okay! Point taken.”

She continues smirking, her plan to make a scene and sow discord working perfectly. Of course, she had expected the resistance from them; they weren’t wrong that she was usually around them to cause friction. It was just that they all misunderstood why she was doing these things! Aelita and Jeremie go back to chatting with each other, Yumi goes back to bowling her second shot, Odd’s glinting eyes fall off of her, and Ulrich continues sitting there, watching Yumi.

“Well, we’re going to bowl here, if you all don’t mind.”

They ignore her. She speaks louder.

“I don’t care if you mind, actually. We’re going to do it anyway.”

Aelita rolls her eyes.

Sissi’s blood boils at this more than them jeering. She’s just preparing to walk over and give them a more clear, direct insult when —

 “Ay, over there. You renting shoes or what?”

Sissi blinks and turns to see a man as grubby as the bowling alley leaning on a counter next to the register. Behind him are rows of bowling shoes of varying states of repair. He’s leaning on a half-shaven face with drooping, baggy eyes, giving her a disappointed glare that would put Ms. Hertz’s to shame. She walks over the carpet to the counter, pulling her wallet out of her pocket.

“The three of us,” she says, gesturing to Nicholas, who has already started taking his shoes off, and Herve, who nods, “Would like a lane for two games.”

The man furrows his brow, looking over her shoulder at Ulrich’s gang, “You not with them?”

“No, we’re not,” Sissi scowls, “Not that we’d want to be.”

“Well, we’re outta lanes, so you’re outta luck.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re outta lanes,” the man repeats, gesturing at the bowling alley with his free hand, “It’s a freezing cold Saturday, this place books up fast. You shoulda called ahead. Don’t know when anyone will be done. You can either rent shoes and bowl with your friends over there, or you can come back later, probably in a few hours.”

“This – I – ,” Sissi sputters, feeling her face turning pink and her grip on her wallet tightening. How had she not thought of this beforehand? Her plan was –

Was –

Well, even she has to admit, her expression deadset on fury to mask the embarrassment, this wasn’t one of her better plans. But she had been so fixated on getting herself to the bowling alley that she had to admit that she hadn’t thought of what she’d actually do when she got here. She hadn’t even stopped to come up with a list of insults to throw back in Odd and Aelita’s faces when they insulted her. And she’s wearing chapstick, for crying out loud! Not even the flavored kind! If she really wanted to impress Ulrich, she’d be wearing her new glittery lilac lipgloss! That tube cost $8!!!

“Well, it looks like you just struck out, Sissi!” Odd sneers, laughing at his own mediocre joke, the others joining in. Their laughter rings in Sissi’s ears louder than the crashing of bowling pins, and she turns, mouth opening to say an insult she knows isn’t there, before Aelita cuts her off.

“Yeah,” Aelita adds, “A few p –,”

And she abruptly stops.

All of them do, actually – each of them has a momentary confused look in their eyes, looking around the bowling alley, before they go back to ambling about. Jeremie mutters something Sissi can’t hear from across the room, and Aelita squeezes his shoulder; whatever roast she was about to serve, apparently completely forgotten.

“What was that, Mrs Einstein?” Sissi snaps, trying to break them out of whatever stupor they were in, a shot of… something… coursing through her heart, and Aelita cringes, looking up, “What were you about to say to me?”

“Look, girl,” the man behind the counter interjects, and Sissi spins back around, “You need to leave, alright? There’s no lane for you, so write your name down and back in a few hours and –,”

“Actually,” Ulrich interrupts him, clearly and pointedly, before he turns around slowly, facing her properly for the first time. He looks tired – far more tired than Sissi had assumed he was, carrying some weight behind his eyes she couldn’t identify – but the half-formed smile he gives is sincere, “Those three can join us.”

“…What?” She mouthes, dumbly.

 “Yeah,” Yumi says, shooting a quick smile at Ulrich, a sight that would normally infuriate Sissi if she wasn’t so perplexed, “I’m all bowled out, actually. Sissi can take over my spot.”   

“Yeah, and Herve can take mine!” Odd says with a hand raised, “Jeremie said he was tired earlier, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind –,”

“Yes,” Jeremie blurts out, relief heavier than getting out of a social obligation on his face, “Yes. I’m happy to watch.”

“What are you playing at?” Herve asks, snapping Sissi back into the realm of logic. Yes, this must be a trick or a prank from them of some kind – some prank they all just thought off at once and –

And –

Aelita’s smile is so sweet, like the one she offers to her friends at dinner that Sissi always stares at with a twitching pounding in her chest.

“Hello? Hello? Are you renting shoes or not?”

The man behind the counter’s glare is back, anr, throwing caution to the wind, Sissi pulls her wallet back out of her pocket. “Yes. I’m a 6 and a half, he’s a 9, and he’s a 10.”

Sissi is awkwardly poised on the very end of the bench where Ulrich is sitting, left heel tap-tap-tapping the floor in slightly-too-small bowling shoes, as she watches Nicholas spend far too long angling his shot. Her first turn is coming up next and, for some reason, she has knots in her stomach like she’s waiting for her execution. She sneaks a glance over at Ulrich, who she’s startled to see is staring right back at her. His expression is slightly puzzled, like he’s trying to figure something out about her. Sissi keeps his gaze as he raises an eyebrow and she’s about to say something – accusatory, maybe? Ask him what he’s staring at her for that, maybe, something like – when there’s the crash of bowling pins and a gasp from the others.

“WHAT?” Odd exclaims amid – and Sissi can’t believe this either – cheers from the others, as she turns and sees that Nicholas, the little silent mystery that he is, has bowled a strike, “I should have let Nicholas take over my game! This isn’t fair!”

“Sorry, Odd,” Jeremie says, who has been slumped in his seat since the three of them were invited over, leaning on Aelita with her arm slung protectively around him, the image of public PDA that she can’t believe Jeremie is accepting, “Not everyone can have a champion as their partner.”

Nicholas, grinning ear to ear, comes back and sits on the floor next to Jeremie. Jeremie grins that stupid grin of his back at him, as if they were – were –

“Sissi, it’s your turn.” Yumi suddenly says from right behind her, and Sissi jumps out of her seat instinctively.

“I know that,” she spits back, and Yumi shrugs, easing into the seat she was just in, leaning over to whisper something to Ulrich.

Sissi stalks over to the ball return and glares at it. She can’t balance left from right anymore and she doesn’t know how or why she’s so stressed about all this. She hefts up the green ball Nicholas had been using, a sticky, heavy thing that she can barely get her hands into.

“You want a lighter one,” Ulrich says from his seat.

Her face burns. “I know that!”

“Here.”

And – what is happening – Ulrich walks up to her and takes the ball out of her hands, his fingers brushing against hers for a heart-stopping second. He picks up a blue one instead, holding it out. He has that infuriating little smirk on his face, “Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never bowled before.”

“Of course I have,” Sissi takes the ball from him. It’s still hefty, but it’s much more manageable, and her fingers fit into the holes with just a little wiggle room.

“Show us what you’ve got, then,” He inclines his head towards the lane, and Sissi walks away, the tapping of her shoes louder barely louder than the beating of her heart. She had bowled before, obviously, just not for a while. It wasn’t that hard. It couldn’t be that hard, she thought, her grip on the ball tightening as she ambles over to the center of the lane. No weakness, she thinks to herself, just do it. Winding up, throwing, watching – it’s all one swift motion that she trusts herself to pull off, and watches with bated breath as it – no – curves too far right, barely avoiding hitting nothing as it plinks the rightmost pin in the side, falling and knocking over – please please please – three other pins.

A quiet breath of relief escapes her throat, and, spinning around on her heels with a casual shrug, she gloats, “Not that hard, really. Knocking out the back row is a very important strategy.”

“Follow it up, then,” Aelita says, raising an eyebrow, and Sissi, practically prancing back to the ball return, picks up her ball, raising her nose at her.

With a wink, she says, “Gladly,” and walks over to do her second toss. She screw up her face, focuses, and throws.

She watched it roll, and roll, and veer right again, and…

“Yikes,” she hears Herve’s sniveling little voice say as it clunks into the gutter, and she doesn’t dare look at what the others are doing.

“Shut up,” she snaps back, talking faster than she can process, “I was just warming up. You’ll see; next shot will be good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m getting a soda.”

With a huff, she walks away from the lane.

Her hands are trembling and her eyes are warm as she orders a Diet Coke, and she furiously pulls out her chapstick for something to do to calm them down. Idiot, moron – why is she even here? What even was her plan? Why were they so willing and able to make a fool of her and why – why –

“Hey Sissi!”

Blinking, she rubs her eyes furiously at the voice of that Odd. She absolutely could not let him see that she was – not that she was – it was just something in her eye that was bothering her, was all. She, thankfully, has pulled off her deception of nothing well, as no jeering came from Odd as he sidles next to her, leaning over the counter, “I’ll have a slice of pepperoni pizza and a Dr. Pepper.”

“It was fine, Sissi,” he says, and she knows he’s taunting her as the cashier hands her her drink, “You should have seen Ulrich’s first round. All gutters! You at least got a few.”

She doesn’t reply, opening the can and taking a jerky sip. He’s an insufferable, cruel, horrible person who is just going to make more fun of her as he takes that disgusting pizza from the disgusting cashier in this disgusting bowling alley.

“You know,” Odd says, finally, turning back to her with his plate, “If you want to hang out with us, you can just ask.”

“What?” Her bowling shoes squeak under her as she leans back, aghast, “Why would I want to hang out with you? We’re just bowling together because there are no lanes left.”  

 “Sure,” Odd shrugs, walking over and pressing the ketchup dispenser to dump a disgusting amount over his pizza slice. Sissi wrinkles her nose and Odd snickers, before continuing to talk, “I’m just saying! Sometimes it feels like it would take, oh, I don’t know, a life-threatening situation for you to admit how you feel.”

“What? That’s stupid. I can say how I feel whenever I want.”

“Sure, sure,” Odd is still smiling at her. That pesky, knowing smile that she has no idea what he’s going on about for. He picks the abhorrent little pizza slice up and shoves it into his gaping mouth, still smiling, and says, through disgusting chews, “So how do you feel?”   

 “How do I – huh?”

 She sputters, staring at him and his ease and his smile and his friends behind him, cheering for Herve and she — she —

“You’re all acting so weird!” Sissi cries, “Freaks!”

 Odd laughs at her, nudging her with his elbow as he heads back. Her hand closes around her soda can and it’s crushed between her fingers, the cold sticky liquid falling over her hand and onto the floor as she stands there, alone.

[denimbex1986]

'Steven Zaillian won an Oscar for writing one of the most beloved films in history, “Schindler’s List,” but he hasn’t made his way up to the podium yet at the Emmys. This year he’s nominated for writing, directing and producing Netflix‘s limited series “Ripley,” based on Patricia Highsmith‘s “The Talented Mr. Ripley” novel about the title con artist. That brings Zaillian’s career total to seven, following three noms for “The Night Of” and one for “My Dinner with Herve.” What are his chances of taking home one, two or even three trophies for his latest TV effort?

“Ripley” earned 13 Emmy nominations overall including Best Limited Series, Best Movie/Limited Actor (Andrew Scott) and Best Movie/Limited Supporting Actress (Dakota Fanning), plus Zaillian’s bids for writing and directing and Creative Arts noms for production design, casting, cinematography and more. The top category looks like a tough get; “Baby Reindeer” is the front-runner for Limited Series with “Ripley” ranked fourth, though with support from one of our Expert journalists.

But the writing and directing awards may be more within reach. For Best Movie/Limited Writing, “Ripley” ranks second behind the aforementioned “Baby Reindeer.” For Best Movie/Limited Directing, it’s in third place behind “Reindeer” and “True Detective: Night Country.” But it has an advantage in both races that we mustn’t ignore: Zaillian is nominated for writing and directing all eight hours of “Ripley” as opposed to a single episode...

...“Ripley” being a singular creative vision under one writer and director might give it an advantage, especially in the directing race where front-runner “Baby Reindeer” is nominated only for its fourth episode. The lavishly shot, black-and-white “Ripley” may also draw more attention to its direction than its rivals. And Zaillian’s name recognition could also help get his name engraved in a golden statue — and he wouldn’t even have to forge it.'

[russellsppttemplates]

Herve, Amelie and Thomas all pitching in together with their allowance to get Charles the latest watch he's been looking at for his birthday!

"Do you have any idea for papa's birthday present?", you asked the kids, genuinely wanting their opinion on the matter. Charles had the possibility to buy himself something he liked, often he was gifted things he liked from the sponsors and brand s he worked with, and while having known him since you were kids was great because you knew his taste better than anyone, it was also meant that you had gifted him every possible type of present known to mankind.

"We saw him looking at a watch the other day", Hervé pointed out, making you think about it for a second. You gifted him a watch for his twenty-first birthday, so it seemed okay to gift him another one since a few years had passed by.

"I think I know which one it is if I look at it", Amélie offered, browsing the website on her iPad until she found the right one, "we also saw it in a shop by grand-mère's house, the one where I got my ears pierced", she informed, scrolling until she found the accessory. "It's this one, yes", Thomas confirmed, pointing at the screen.

"Good job, guys, thanks!", you cheered, "I'll see when I can go to the shop and buy it, maybe tomorrow", you smiled, kissing each kid's head sweetly.

Because Charles would only get home later that night just in time for dinner, you saved some time of your morning to go to the shop, telling the kids as much so they knew where you were headed, "before you go, mama, we have something to help you", Hervé said, getting up and heading to his room before he came back, "myself, Thomas and Amélie what to pitch in for papa's present, here's our contribution", he said, handing you and envelope with some money inside, "we really want to do it, mama", he defended himself and his siblings.

When Thomas gave Charles his present, he immediately blushed and gasped in awe, "how did you guys know I wanted this one? Thank you, mes amours", he smiled, pulling all three children into his embrace, or as much as he could since that now that they had grown up, it was harder to get them all in one place.

When you all retired to your bedrooms, you couldn't help but gush in pride of your kids, "you know, they all pitched in with their pocket money", you said as Charles placed the new watch on his bedside table, "really? Wow", he said, remembering the time Amélie followed Thomas around the house for the whole afternoon until he gave her the change of the ice cream she had lent him money for.

"They insisted they wanted to help and they were so happy with that", you said, patting the spot next to you on the bed so he could lay down and then you could lay on top of his chest, "we did good with them, didn't we?", he mused, "We did, amour", you smiled, kissing his chest.

(Thank you for submitting an ask ✨️)

[taylorslovesswifties]

BABYDOLL EP. 4

June 8, 2014

"Annabelle, did you get your beach bag?" Mom called to me in a panic from the living room. Me, my mom, my idiot brother, Gasly and the Leclerc family were going on a yacht trip. Every summer we used to get together and go sailing on Charles's father's yacht. The Leclerc family definitely had a love of yachts and would go sailing with family friends to celebrate the first hot days of summer. I put two towels, sunscreen, a thick book and headphones in my beach bag. My sunglasses were on my head and my phone was stuffed in the back pocket of my shorts. I was wearing a t-shirt - my brother's - that was too big for me with Formula 1 written on it and dark blue denim shorts underneath. My banana-print beach slippers were grinning in this outfit. I checked my bag one last time and went downstairs.

"I have everything ready, I'm waiting for you." My mother was trying to get my brother up from the game he was playing.

"Daniel, stop playing car games and get ready. We'll be leaving soon." My mom had taken her beach bag and a small bag next to it. It was probably the bag with his clothes for dinner.

"Oh God, dinner!" My mom looked up from my brother and started complaining to me. I was in too much of a panic to listen to her, I almost forgot to take a change of clothes! After a quick trip up the stairs, I opened my closet and folded up my shabby pink dress and stuffed it into the bag. I added my sneakers next to it. I barely got my bags down the stairs and my mom and I loaded our stuff into the car, of course, I took advantage of my brother getting ready and got in the front seat, I expected a big front seat fight as soon as my brother arrived, but it didn't turn out like I thought it would. My brother sat in the back seat and opened the windows wide. That's how my brother got his revenge, I screamed and tried to pull my hair that was stuck to the lip gloss I had just put on my lips. My brother was laughing his head off.

"Who are you to put glitter on, for God's sake?" Mom giggled quietly and rolled down the windows. I unbuckled my seat belt and got out of the car, my brother was carrying our bags so there was nothing left for me. Charles' mother saw us, waved and rushed off the yacht to help us - or rather my brother. Charles and his father came towards us and waved to my parents at the top of the stairs. Mom, my brother and Pascale jumped, holding on to the ladder. Charles walked away from my brother and went to the back of the yacht to play chess with his brother Arthur and his brother Lorenzo. I chatted for a while with my mother, Aunt Pascale and Uncle Herve, and when their conversation turned into an old people's chat, I threw myself into the chess club. The chess was very tense and competitive, but I ignored them and started chatting with Arthur. Arthur was definitely my favorite of the Leclerc family. She was not a thoughtless, arrogant person like Charles, on the contrary, she was very kind, gentle, generous and understood my feelings very well. That's why he was the only one who knew I liked his brother. Or so I thought. I lay down on the white leather sofa and tried to listen to what Arthur was saying while fiddling with Charles' bracelet on my wrist. But it was hard to focus with him looking at me like that. He looked at me like he wanted to be at the most important point in my life. It was as if he wanted me to be more than I was in his life. And I couldn't break eye contact, or didn't want to,

"Are you listening to me, Annabelle?" I shivered as Arthur leaned close to my ear and yelled at a decibel level that could have burst my eardrums, and I tried to control my heartbeat, which was racing with fear. I take back all the nice things I just said about Arthur. Charles lifted his head from the chess pieces and looked at us.

"Are you all right?" She must have been stunned by my scream because she asked me this question.

"She's out of her mind, you idiot." Lorenzo picked up one of the pawns on the board and threw it at Arthur's head. Arthur groaned in pain, Lorenzo had hit the nail on the head. I chuckled at the gesture and let the chess-playing brothers know I was fine. Arthur approached and gave me an apologetic hug.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd scare you this much, and I didn't even mean to scare you. "I'm sorry." He turned his head and watched the sea for a while. I patted him on the shoulder and hugged him, he was my best friend and I couldn't stay mad at this blond head! Charles, frustrated at losing, challenged his brother to a rematch, but Lorenzo refused and sat back. Charles's eyes traveled over Arthur for a moment and then stopped on me.

"Na-a, absolutely not." But Lorenzo and Arthur were already cheering. I got up from my comfortable chair and went to the front of the table, leaning my butt against the arm of the chair.

"So let's say I agree to play chess with you, what's in it for me?" He smiled wickedly and cleared his throat. It was clear he had a plan.

"The loser has to do everything the winner wants for one day. "So he's going to be his slave for a day, sort of." I slowly sat in the chair and leaned back.

"When I win, I'll make you do such things, Leclerc, that you'll run away crying."

"And you will only see it in your dreams."

"We'll see who dreams of it." The game was tough and competitive. I had to admit he was playing very well. But I was playing better than him.

"Okay, come on, admit you're struggling." I chuckled and shook my head vaguely.

"You're the one who's struggling, admit it." It only took me five minutes to take him down after his confident words.

"And checkmate. You can put into practice this idea of perfect slavery that you have proposed. "Today, rest because tomorrow you will be very tired." There was such a loud cheer from behind me that I couldn't stop myself from looking back over my shoulder.

Arthur and Lorenzo gave me a standing ovation for defeating their brother. And Charles' towering ego was badly damaged. But I didn't care, not at all. After all, the child will serve me! I looked up into Charles' face and began to speak excitedly.

"How about getting used to being of service? "Because you will serve me a lot from now on." He smiled and nodded.

"I'll only do what you want tomorrow because it's a bet. You'll never get me to do what you want for the rest of your life, beautiful." He crossed his arms and looked at me from where he sat. I put my hand to my mouth and pretended to gag and said, "We'll see about that." Had I just defeated Charles Leclerc, a smart-ass, a jerk, a know-it-all, a self-centered, self-proclaimed deity - a complete idiot? I approached him and patted him on the shoulder.

"You sit here and cry for a while, I'm going to the non-babies." She messed up her hair and stood up and followed me. I walked past my parents into the kitchen and filled a glass with water. My throat was dry and knowing he was behind me gave me a strange ache in my stomach. I quickly set the glass, trembling between my palms, down on the marble countertop and turned around, but Lorenzo was standing behind me instead of Charles.

"Tell me, Anna. Since when do you like my brother?" Now I was seriously fucked up.

"Ha-ha, I don't like him, where did that come from?"

"Where did he come from? Come on, Anna. We both know that's not the case. I'm not blind and I can tell by the way he looks at her, he's just too dense to realize it." I couldn't open my mouth, let alone speak. What should I say to her now? Should I approve or should I reject what she said? Even I couldn't figure out whether I liked her or not!

"I'm not going to tell Charles what I know, because you have to tell him. No pressure, say it whenever you feel ready." I pulled out the chair in the kitchen and leaned back, I had to come up with a plan. I grabbed my brother by the arm as he walked down the hallway and pulled him quickly into the kitchen. It was already time to interrogate him.

[princessdanara]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: HERVE LEGER NWT SEXY FLIRTY DESIGNER PINK/PLUM BANDAGE DRESS XS.

[amateurvoltaire]

This is an amazing find!

I've tried my hand at making the French transcription (to the best of my ability) and translated it to English below.

French Transcript (to the best of my ability) :

Jeudi 6.  J’ai diné avec maman. J’ai été voir Mme (1) Danton. Elle été bien malade.

Vendredi 7. J’ai été diner chez Mme Ange (2), de la a l’opéra .

Samedi . Le frère de Camille été venu. Nous avons été diner chez Mme Brune(3).

Dimanche 9 nous sommes été diner chez Mme Ange. Mme Danton est malade. Elle est accouchée d’une fille (4).

Lundi.10. J’ai diné avec maman. Mme Danton est morte.

Mardi.11. Nous avons diné chez Roulette (5). Maman y est venu.

English Translation:

Thursday 6. I had dinner with mother. I went to see Mrs. Danton. She was very sick.

Friday 7. I went to have dinner at Mrs. Ange's (2), then to the opera.

Saturday. The brother of Camille came. We went to have dinner at Mrs. Brune's (3).

Sunday 9 we went to have dinner at Mrs. Ange's. Mrs. Danton is sick. She has given birth to a daughter(4).

Monday 10. I had dinner with mother. Mrs. Danton has died.

Tuesday 11. We had dinner at Roulette (5). Mother came.

Notes :

(1) Mme = equivalent of Madame (same as Mrs basically)  

(2) Does anyone know who Mme Ange is?

(3) I would suppose Mme Brune refers to the wife of Guillaume Brune who ends up owning a printer and is editor-in-chief of a journal called “Journal de la cour et de la ville”. He was a member of the Cordeliers and a friend of Camille. During the empire, he ends up becoming a Marechal.

(4) I’ve seen Gabrielle’s last pregnancy mentioned as being a boy. It would be a bit odd for Lucille to be mistaken. I would assume her to be a reliable primary source for this particular event. I didn’t do a lot of digging, but I checked in Herve Leuwers’ Camille et Lucile Desmoulins  and he doesn’t assign a gender to the child: “En février 1793, elle décède à la suite de la naissance de son quatrième enfant.”(In february 1793, she died after the birth of her fourth child)

(5) As @anotherhumaninthisworld kindly mentioned, Roulette is the nickname of Mme Brune.

Today is Gabrielle's deathday. She died late at night on February 10, 1793. Very sad.

But a question I have had for a long time: Did she really die in childbirth?

The official document of her death states only that she died of illness. If it was death in childbirth, someone would write what happened to the child, but no one mentions it (at least I have never seen it). Her family (her brother Victor Charpentier wrote a letter about it to his fiancée Constance) does not mention why she died. And her son Antoine wrote a letter about his mother to the historian Michelet in later years, but even there the cause of death is not mentioned.

The source for this would be Lucile's diary, but considering the fact that it has long been misread in other places (the description of the August 10), I cannot be sure until we see the handwriting. (To be honest, it is hard for read.)

Many of the anecdotes about Danton's personal life and family (such as why he remarried Louise) are believed without being proved, so I don't think my question is bizarre...