#jean moreau bakes

[foxesscramble]

Advent Calendar: Day Five

Their First Christmas Together - New Hobbies - Transgender AU || "No one can resist those [ ] of yours."

Jean x Jeremy x Kevin

@allforthegamebingo

(so sorry this is so late but technically i still made it. is it the last hour of the day? yes but shh.)

______________

Jeremy is so stressed, more stressed than he has ever been at any sports event in his life. This Christmas was the first Christmas he was spending with Kevin and Jean and everything needed to be perfect. He knew neither of the former Ravens had anything close to a normal, cheerful Christmas and he had to fix that. Christmas was the best time of the year.

For the Trojans, it was a time when everyone came together to donate toys and money to charities. It was a time when everyone came in with better spirits than normal and everyone felt a sense of family that was strengthened by the season.

Jeremy wanted his boys to feel that energy so badly. He wanted them to experience a happy and stress free Christmas and if that meant that Jeremy had to sacrifice his sanity for two days then so be it. It was Christmas Eve and they had a ton of things to get through before the night was over.

He had just put the cookies into the oven when Jean and Kevin walked in. They had gone out to find Jeremy eggs after he realized that he didn't have any more to make his royal icing. Kevin walked in and put the eggs down next to the bowl as Jean came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Jeremy's waist. Jeremy let himself melt into the hold.

Casual affection was a new thing for Jean and Jeremy had been gladly encouraging it. Jean placed a kiss on the top of Jeremy's hair before releasing him. "Need any help?" Jeremy shook his head before reconsidering. "Actually, could you start making hot chocolate? It shouldn't take too long for the cookies to bake and I can make the icing pretty fast. Growing up, we always had hot chocolate while we made cookies."

Kevin shot him a soft smile as he hopped up to sit on the kitchen island. Jean obediently got out three mugs and the kettle. Once Jean was finished, he made his way to rest between Kevin's legs, his back against Kevin's chest. Kevin grabbed his mug with one hand and wrapped the other around Jean's chest as they settled in to watch Jeremy make the icing.

Jeremy felt a rush of affection for the two boys behind him. They had been through a lot but they were finally settling into their skin without the threat and paranoia of it getting taken away again.

The sound of soft Christmas songs filled the kitchen while Jeremy tried his best to get the icing to the right consistency. Normally, it was one of the easiest things to make but in that moment it was doing its best to derail Jeremy's plan to show his boys his favorite Christmas traditions. How was he supposed to show Kevin and Jean the pleasures of cookie decorating if he couldn't even get the goddamn icing right?

Maybe he was a little bit stressed but even Jeremy could admit the heat behind his eyes was a little much. "Well, fuck." He said quietly as he watched the icing easily slide off his spoon. He tried to take a deep breath but it got caught in his lungs. Anxiously shaking his hands at his side he tried to take a breath again only half failing this time.

"Jere," Kevin said gently from behind him. "Breathe with me, baby." He tried but all he could manage was a desperate huff. Jean swiftly took the icing and spoon from his hands and turned him so he was facing Kevin who had slid off the kitchen island and was now standing right in front of him. Kevin reached out but Jeremy was already crashing a little harshly into his chest.

Kevin let out a little oof but brought his arms around him immediately. "'S okay, I'm good. It's too watery." He said in a rush. Kevin just hummed as he rubbed his hand up and down Jeremy's back. Jeremy allowed himself to take a few deep breaths and rest the rest of his weight against Kevin's strong figure. Kevin let his lips rest on the top of Jeremy's head, his unoccupied hand coming up to run through Jeremy's hair.

After a while, he pressed a kiss to Kevin's chest and pulled back. When he turned around he was surprised to see Jean stirring icing that now held a perfect consistency. His eyebrows furrowed and his chest unclenched a bit more. "How did you do that?" He asked Jean who just shrugged in response. "I like baking." Jeremy let out a little laugh. Jean was honestly a little too good at the most random things like knitting, painting, and even fucking pottery.

"Well, thank you." He said as he tilted his head up and placed a hard kiss to Jean's lips. Jean's hand lifted to cup his jaw and Jeremy smiled into the kiss.

"Any particular reason the icing sent you a bit over the edge?" Kevin asked in a uniquely Kevin mixture of gentle and blunt. The oven beeped and Jeremy went to pull them out of the oven. He used the distraction to think about how to best phrase his thoughts. After he put the pan on the table he turned to Kevin and Jean and took a deep breath. "I just really want this Christmas to go well. You both deserve to have a nice and normal Christmas after everything. I need it to be perfect because you both deserve that and so much more and I think I may be stressing myself out a little in the process." He rushed to continue before either of them could interrupt. "I am perfectly fine though, it's going well and we still have so many things to do and not really enough time to get through them all but it'll be fun."

Kevin and Jean shared a little look before they turned back to Jeremy with matching expressions of affection. Jean spoke first. "I think I speak for both of us when I say that we are more than happy to just be here with you, love." Kevin nodded in agreement, his hand reaching out to pull Jeremy closer to them. "I agree. I also would like to point out that this is not the only Christmas I intend to spend with the two of you so I think we have a few years to get through all of your traditions. There's no need to stress about doing everything in one day."

Jeremy is overwhelmingly fond of these boys. They'd both come so far. They were right of course, he wasn't sure why he was so adamant about going through every single Christmas tradition he had ever partaken in. All he wanted to do right now was curl up with them on their bed turn on The Polar Express and eat cookies until they were sick.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I was taken the fun out of it anyway trying to stuff so many things into today." Jean made a negative sound and shook his head. "It has been very fun, I'm just concerned you're not enjoying it as much as we are." Jeremy felt heat rise to his cheeks and cursed Jean's inexplicable ability to read him like a book. Eyes flitting around the room, he shifted from foot to foot. "Maybe we can just decorate the cookies and then we can all watch The Polar Express in bed? I promise I'll take you both out to look at Christmas lights tomorrow."

Kevin smiled and nodded his agreement. "That sounds wonderful, Jeremy." Jean nodded and reached for the bowl of icing. "I think it's time to make cookies because I have been craving them all day."

Kevin grabbed some plates to put the cookies on while they decorated and Jeremy knew that their Christmas was going to be okay. It was going to be perfect.

[jtl-fics]

9-27-23 WIP Wednesday

Playing @kedreeva's game again this week :)

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

Here are my offers this week: 1. 1. Math Nerd AU 2. 2. New Kings AU 3. 3. Smalls AU 4. 4. Foxhole Bake AU 5. Dealer's Choice - I'll write from one of the four listed or POSSIBLY something not listed (not guaranteed)

Math Nerd Under the cut:

Andrew keeps his eyes on Tetsuji the entire way over to his car. He also keeps an arm around Neil's shoulders and guides him. Neil has a limp and it takes everything in Andrew to not panic and start demanding answers before they leave.

Andrew needs to know if he needs to return the favor for Drake.

Jean Moreau has the good sense to stay close to them during this entire debacle over to the car. He doesn't quite have the good sense to stay quiet, "Be careful with him, the Master went hard on him." he says easing exactly none of Andrew's concerns.

"If you call him the Master in front of me one more time, I will make you walk to the airport." Andrew hisses looking at Moreau's unaffected gait, his undamaged face, and thinks about how Neil was there to make sure he stayed safe.

[jtl-fics]

Hello all! It is WIP Wednesday again and I am participating this week! (8/2/23)

1. Math Nerd AU

2. Andrew First AU

3. New Kings AU

4. A Foxhole Bake AU

Snippet from Math Nerd AU:

Neil takes a few steps away from him after Andrew had asked to be let go.

“I don’t know what will happen while I am there. I don’t know what Riko may do or not do he’s….” Neil looks like he’s struggling for a word as he closes his eyes, “he’s…not fully what I expected to be off of everything Ichirou had told me.” Neil brings his hands up to his face and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Andrew…I am begging you not to come. Spend this Christmas with your family Andrew. I will come back at the end of Christmas Break,” Neil says hands falling away from his face. “I promise you I will come back,” he says as and offers his hand.

A promise.

Alex had been the one to show Andrew the heavy weight of fulfilling a promise, the one who had kept all the ones he had ever made to Andrew, and the only one who never flinched when hearing about how Andrew had kept his own.

A promise has weight if it is from Alex, from Neil.

He still wants to not accept it, wants to tell Neil that he doesn’t care what happens to Jean Moreau, wants to call a number that isn’t saved in his phone but is saved in his memory and let Ichirou know what Neil is planning.

He looks up from Neil’s hand to his eyes and finds himself lost in the blue of them. Remembers impossible promises from these blue eyes and how each had come to pass.

He takes a step towards Neil and grips his hand.

WIP Wednesday Game

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

Requested/Friend event mentions under the cut! If you'd like to be pinged next week, let me know!

Friends @fiore-della-valle @redbirdblogs @greenbergsays @idkfandomwhatever @luckyspike @obaewankenope @mad-madam-m @anonymousdandelion @geometricfractal @prettybirdy979 @eriquin | Requests @aparticularbandit @madnessfromthemountains @makeroftherunes @not-orpheus @1attheedge @preetsramblings @whimsicalmeerkat @kidsomeday @lizhly-writes @sapphireraeburn

[aftgficrec]

Favorite Neil/Jean or Neil&Jean fics?

In the aftermath of the publication of The Sunshine Court the relationship between Neil and Jean has been put under the spotlight a little more (no spoilers here though!), but there have always been authors who have shown this combo the attention it deserves. In addition, many fics under our raven!neil tag feature friendships or relationships between Neil and Jean. - S

Previously recommended:

Neil Josten & Jean Moreau:

close friends Neil & Jean here

BFFs Jean & Neil here

Neil/Jean tumblr fics and headcanons here

‘Afterthoughts Chapter 68’, ‘Jean, Neil, and Kevin hanging out’ here (plus some more Neil & Jean under previous recs)

‘not very good at this’ here

Neil Josten/Jean Moreau:

Neil/Jean fics here (you can also find a link to our Neil/Jean tag here)

More Jean/Neil fics here

‘we’ll survive, you and i’, ‘Heart on Your Sleeve, Eyes on the Street (the Heart-Eyes Remix)’, and ‘Doves & Ravens’  here

Some of our favourites from previous posts:

Your humble and silky life by moonix [Rated G, 3582 words, complete, 2019, locked]

Jean’s life these days is quiet, uneventful. His best friend has a hopeless crush on the unattainable Minyard, Jean’s colleague at the botanical garden. Jean has a standing appointment every week with the most beautiful woman in the world, who is happily married to someone else—but that’s okay. There’s still Jeremy the waiter, whose smile is the highlight of Jean’s week.

tw: animal death

Black As Is The Raven, He’ll Get A Partner by nekojita [Rated E, 644156 words, complete, 2018]

When Wymack, Kevin and Andrew came to recruit Neil Josten in Millport, Neil decided to say 'no' instead of 'yes' to joining the Foxes and does what he does best, which is run. Unfortunately, that brings him to the attention of the Moriyamas, who return him to his 'rightful' place. Now Neil has to learn how to survive at the Nest with his only ally another 'asset' long kept under Riko's heel.

tw: violence, tw: rape/noncon, tw: dubcon, tw: blood, tw: panic attacks, tw: drug use, tw: alcohol, tw: minor character death, tw: homophobia, tw: involuntary outing

Apart from Your World (A Part of Mine) by ApprenticedMagician [Rated T, 17647 words, complete, Aftg Big Bang 2018, locked]

David is shipping him off to the Isle of Anglesey and, frankly, Neil could use the time and distance away from an ugly break-up that still hasn't smoothed over. The problem is, if he isn't being reminded of his ex (courtesy of working alongside his identical twin brother), then he's being reminded of the mother who abandoned him (courtesy of their assigned patient who suffers the same affliction she once did). All around, it's shaping up to be anything but the trip he signed up for.

tw: references to past abuse

NB: find art for this fic by @llheji here

So Keep Your Heart On Your Sleeve (And Keep Your Eyes On The Streets) by CasTheButler [Rated T, 4162 words, complete, Aftg Winter Exchange 2018]

Cause it's a God damn long drive fall, Back to normality. Jean starts at a new school on a new soccer team, makes some friends, and spends the whole time falling in love with a punk. Written for the 2018 AFTG Winter Exchange.

tw: panic attacks

And here are some fics we haven’t rec’ed yet:

Neil Josten & Jean Moreau:

Je crois en la chance de rejoindre la mer by Elyant [Rated T, 2007 words, complete, 2021, locked]

Part 4 of The Devil Makes Three

Jean has chosen the café whose tables were closest to the large windows overlooking the tarmac. After spending so many years underground and under the harsh fluorescent light of the Nest, he doesn't think he will ever have enough of the natural warmth of the sun. A duffle bag of clothes that are too new to feel like his, the tin of home-baked cookies Renee thrusted into his hands before he left, and a small package wrapped in kraft paper are his only baggage.  He's waiting for a plane from London to land because of a phone call he received a few nights before. He is therefore purposefully two hours too early for the flight that will take him to South California, to meet the team in crimson and gold that will become his family, even if he doesn't know it yet.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

from rain by ratbandaid [Rated T, 62807 words, complete, 2023]

Over time, Jean grew unsure as to why he'd been so intent on running from the mafia. He barely took care of himself and could hardly call whatever he was doing living. After all, he knew that one day, he'll be caught and dragged back, kicking and screaming, to be killed or worse: put back in the hands of Riko Moriyama. But when a snot-nosed, cocky brat, Neil, stumbles into his life, Jean slowly realizes what he's running for.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: violence, tw: nightmares

based on this art by @estavs

NB: This one contains slight spoilers for The Sunshine Court:

epic understatement by LadyTimelessness [Rated T, 335 words, complete, 2024]

he's pissed off that jean had to go through this. they're basically nothing to each other, but damn it, neil wants to crack grayson's skull open that second. faith in the world finally burns out in the fire of disillusionment.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced murder

Neil Josten/Jean Moreau:

Skip the Last Dance For Me (the Trojan Horse remix) by justadreamfox [Rated T, 3572 words, complete, Aftg Remix 2020]

Neil and Jean are free of the Nest, and wearing the Trojan red and gold, but they've still got "normal" life to navigate and friendships (past and present) to juggle. Really, sometimes you just want to be alone with your boyfriend.  Ft. Exy, pizza, and Steven Spielberg.

Nothing Mattered Until You by Lostintheuniverseslies [Rated M, 22497 words, complete, 2023]

On the docks in Marseille, Neil fell in love. But his mother ripped him away and for years he never dared hope to see Jean again. He believed that he would die before ever getting the chance. But when recuperating with his uncle after his father is killed, Neil's chance comes. Unfortunately, he isn't the only one who went through some horrible things over the years. Despite their horrible pasts, they decide to try for a future together. Going to college and even making some friends along the way. But Riko has other plans and wants back what he considers his.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced domestic violence, tw: stalking, tw: harassment,  tw: dissociation

It's Friday, I'm in love by Greenfallleaves [Rated T, 5834 words, complete, 2023, locked]

The day Neil had found himself pushed into the strong chest of their school’s new student Jean Moreau had been one of his luckiest in hindsight.

Hold my breath in your hands by Greenfallleaves [Rated G, 2154 words, complete, 2023, locked]

Adapting to the world outside the nest hadn’t been easy for either Jean or Neil but now that they had had a few years to get used to it, they got to complain about (i.e. enjoy) spending quality time with their friends.

sleep notes by nanatsuyu [Rated T, 2928 words, complete, 2024, locked]

Neil smokes a joint and discusses the possibility that Kevin is an honest to God vampire.

tw: recreational drug use, tw: implied/referenced abuse

A kiss while someone watches by @stabbyfoxandrew [tumblr, 2024]

Nathaniel never really saw the point of kissing until he was brought to the nest. Or rather, until the first time Jean Moreau backed him up against the wall of their shared dorm during an argument.

Art

Jean & Neil by @ziegenkind094

Raven!neil au - napping by @dawnatlas 

Raven!neil au - partners by @dawnatlas

‘Stitch by stitch, tape and gauze…’ by @dawnatlas

two by @02511213942

Neil and Jean find an empty pool at night by @aminiyard

i believe in jean moreau supremacy by @caraleadraws 

secret santa gift for @nekojitachan by @aminiyard

Hello sunshine court by @estavs

[millportisntreal]

All For The Game @allforthegamebingo Advent Calendar!

Day Ten: baking - building pillow forts - soul bond au ll "how did you do it, then?"

Kevin Day x Jean Moreau x Neil Josten

There was snow on the ground and stars in the sky and a fire in the hearth and Kevin was bored. Neil and Jean were content to sit together on the sofa with their mugs of tea and novels and socked feet butted up against each other.

Kevin strode in from their makeshift home gym and dramatically draped himself over his recliner. He sighed. He sighed again.

After the third large and rather huffy sigh, Jean took pity.

“Is something the matter Kevin?”

Kevin threw his head back and groaned. “My wrist!”

He held up his broken wrist, newly wrapped in a white plaster cast. The surface was covered in brightly colored signatures from the team. Kevin had been the unfortunate recipient of a red card tackle that ended with him landing all of his weight on his arm. Jean and Neil had sat on either side of him in the team physician’s office and listened intently to how Kevin was to be in the cast for six weeks and benched for the foreseeable future.

[violnces]

—       blasting  self esteem  by  the offspring  down  main  street  we’ve  spotted  VERITY MOREAU  sporting  their  gold chained ruby necklace engraved with her family insignia .  the  twenty five  year  old  DHAMPIR HYBRID  who’s  been  in  town  for  twenty years  often  can  be  seen  sketching new designs in the park on a summer day, sneaking through the woods at night to clear her mind, singing loudly at the top of her lungs at the shop while bored,  or  working  as  a  TATTOO ARTIST at  NEON INK.  people  say  they  display  imaginative  and  vindictive  traits,  but  we  rather  trust  their  vibes:  feeling the weight of ancient family values on your shoulder, being born into a legacy that bears the weight of the world, pink skirts and a dazzling smile with a tattoo gun in your hand, wanting to scream into oblivion without fear of being heard, the distinct feeling of wanting to go home - but not knowing where home is.  also,  we’ve  heard  they  love  COLLECTING ROCKS !   aren’t  they  fascinating ?

full name:  verity adeline moreau

nicknames: v, ver, little vamp,

gender:  cis woman

pronouns:  she + her

sexuality:  bisexual

age:  twenty five

date of birth:  april 10th

zodiac sign:  aries

occupation:  tattoo artist at neon ink !

FAMILY

parents:  lucinda matthews ( mother, deceased ), andreas moreau (dad, sort of estranged but still in contact )

siblings:  twin brother ( possible wc i dont know yet!!), two older half siblings (also.. possible wcs... think of a somewhat close but not really set of dhampir half-sibs.. running amuck in portum.... )

APPEARANCE

eyes:  sea blue

hair:  constantly dyeing her hair between dark brown and blonde... she's going through a crisis ok

piercings:  ears are littered with piercings, has a septum nose piercing as well.

tattoos:  a tattoo of four doves on her left wrist; one for each representation of her siblings, her zodiac constellation on her right shoulder, an alien pointing the finger on her ankle, a ghost on her other ankle & the phases of the moon only to piss her father off because he's a vamp <3 .

other distinguishing features:  a distinguished air around her that she's better than everyone else, always wearing her family necklace engraved with rubies, a sarcastic smile on her face 24/7.

style:  always wearing a splash of color unless her father's in town because he seems to suck the fun out of everything, loves skirts & dresses just as much as jeans and shorts. an avid fan of multiple bracelets and rings adorned on each arm & hands, always has her hair down unless, again her father is in town & she has to pretend to be the perfect moreau she knows she is not.

PERSONALITY

positive traits:  creative, resourceful, independent

negative traits: vindictive, cruel, self-destructive

health:  has dealt with depression her whole life, also has undiagnosed adhd

likes:  collecting rocks, painting, photography, can play piano however hasn't touched one in years, avid history lover, gardening, baking, secretly loves to read comic books, tattooing herself in her spare time, also loves a bit of chaos every now and then

dislikes  sitting down for too long, silent spaces, crowded rooms & mushrooms, fires, the familial pressure to live up to the moreau expectations and always falling short every time, got bitten by a deer once and now its on sight any time she sees one , also does not like moths.

HEAD CANONS/BIO. - TW: parental death !

turns out i cannot fully form a bio anymore so here are a bunch of headcanons and slight family history!! anyways, enjoy my ramblings <3

Verity is a girl who deep down tries her best to please everyone, even her estranged father & siblings, especially her twin brother. It doesn’t seem like it ; she is definitely one to march to the beat of her own drum, but she still shows up to the weekly moreau family dinners once a week, verity still answers her twin’s phone calls even if its two am and she hasn’t slept a wink. Just because she says she hates her family, doesn’t mean she doesn’t love them. After all she is a moreau in blood & defiance, nothing will break the invisible bond they share with each other. 

To those who don’t know her she comes across as rude and obnoxious, but those who do know her see the vulnerable & childlike side to her that she hides, because to be a moreau is to be strong. But the weight of her familial expectations is crumbling the very foundations of herself, but verity still maintains an air of sophistication and being better than everyone else to keep others at bay. She has enough friends thank you. 

She and the rest of her siblings are dhampirs, half-human & half-vampire; but verity has always seemed more human than the rest, especially her twin brother. She is the black sheep of the family due to her natural human instincts ; though she does have a liking to blood more than others, and verity for a fact is stronger than her brother, though he is faster than her. 

Never had any interest in her father’s family real estate business in the human world ; though it seemed like her siblings were in a constant competition to be the best in front of their father, andreas, as they all wanted to take over once he decided it was time. While she wasn’t competitive with her siblings, in school she had always been ruthless and callous - needing to be the best was apparently a moreau trait, and she was almost always top of her class. She’d hide behind her intelligence like a shield ; verity moreau seemed as untouchable as she was charming and elegant. 

Has been living in Portum since she was five ! [ tw ] when her and her twin brother were born, andreas collected them from the hospital as their mother had passed during birth, compelling anyone who worked that night to forget about the inhumanly intelligent new born babies who already had the strength of a three year old. [ end tw ] They spent a few years traveling with them while he built his growing empire in real estate, before returning back to portum and reuniting the twins with their half-siblings ( andreas had a problem okay, he cant resist the human ladies ), so they could grow up in a place where they didn’t have to hide who they were. 

Verity loves being a dhampir; having most of the perks a vampire has while being able to walk in the sun without being bothered, she’s fast, strong but her hypnosis is weak. She doesn’t care to hypnotise people, verity would rather charm them naturally. Constantly flirting with everyone just because she can. Her fangs pop out of her mouth whenever she smiles, though they aren’t as sharp as full-vampires, they’re unnaturally longer than an average human. Growing up verity realised she had some influence over human emotions ( much like… jasper in twilight ok…. Dont @ me ) though as she’s only a half vampire, she doesn’t have much influence over the supernatural, but she also hasn’t tried. It kind of scares her, being able to manipulate the emotions of others, and refuses to learn more about how to - a constant thought and worry is someone accusing her of influencing the way they feel about her. Her father says he doesn’t care, but she can feel the disappointment radiating off of him sometimes, so verity gives him a wide berth because of it. 

Verity hates moths & bugs, as much of a careless girl she tries to be if she sees one she will scream ! 

Loves to gossip !! verity is a gossip queen and loves to learn the intimate details of her clients at neon ink. Will usually yap their ear off while verity works, and has no problem showing them her cool little rock collection. 

Will usually only leave Portum to collect said rocks and always comes back with a new obsession ; last time it was candle making, the time before that it was soaps and perfume making. Verity is obsessed with trying new hobbies and her little apartment is jam packed with forgotten hobbies - knitting, flax weaving, cooking, body lotions…. She just loves to learn things okay 

Verity is a force of nature and she knows it, her smile always has an edge to it and her eyes will always twinkle with i can get away with anything. Is at her most peace when she has the tattoo gun in her hand and she’s humming a little tune.

CONNECTIONS -

these are just some lil ideas i got while writing... whatever that bio was shdjdkd but i am also up for plotting our own thing !

Best friend/s: she’s been in portum since she was five and i’d imagine y/m has adopted verity as one of their friends !! verity would have come off as a quiet, shy girl at first until getting to know all of her, but they love each other anyway!! Verity is loud and opinionated but she means well. They’re essentially ride or dies, bonus points if they have matching tattoos!! 

Mentor/parental figure: as her father hadn’t been around for her important milestones, i just think it would be cute if she got close to someone older than her that seemed to be a better parent than her dad is dhefkkdd and would cheer her on from the sidelines, and possibly helped her strengthen her vamp abilities ! 

Bad influence: verity’s the “black sheep” of the family due to different interests in life, but this is the person who would have influenced her to make bad decisions over the years, and verity always goes to this person when her dads coming to town and she needs to relieve some stress by being a nuisance to society <3

Enemies: verity is hard to like sometimes and that’s okay ! she’s blunt, cutthroat when she wants something & will tear someone down to get what she wants because that’s all she knows. Maybe they’ve beefed since school and as adults they just dont mesh well! Bonus points for catty arguments that end in free tattoos <3

[decaflondonfog]

transferable skills

jerejean / 11k / rated E

[post canon idiots to lovers ft. jean moreau’s self actualisation journey via various hobbies and jeremy knox’s yummy combo of hand + competency kink]

It’s the way Jean watches his own hands as he guides the thread through the paper, pulling the gathering tight to the spine. It’s the way Jean bends, strong and handsome, over a tiny embroidery hoop to get the details exactly right. Jeremy Knox is supposed to be spending his senior year worrying about what comes next. Instead, he’s mesmerized as he watches each stitch come to life and finds, there in between the threads, something completely unexpected.

i’m a wee bit late to the @aftgthenandnow reveals party 🥲 but the jerejean with the neat wordcount, all the craft hobbies, the unnecessarily sad jeremy backstory, and the hand kink (everything-about-jean-moreau kink? you decide) was indeed mine!! 🧡 written for @alcego’s incredible prompt, with lots of help from @fluxweeed, to whom i owe at least eleven thousand baked goods!

read here on ao3

[kevindavidday]

yeah we know neil josten loves photographs and his not-husband got him a camera but yk who else would love photography/making videos of people around him once he's comfortable enough? jean moreau

[earlywintermourning]

reminder than jean moreau was in marseilles until he was 11, and most likely knows exactly how to cook french pastries. also reminder than jeremy has a horrible sweet tooth and would love french pastries

[chronically-peach]

You can start a family who will always show you love

Kevin/Andrew/Neil. Rated G. 1.3k words.

It’s an ordinary Tuesday night when Kevin realizes he finally has a family.

He’s sat on the couch, Andrew’s head in his lap as he cards his fingers through blonde hair. Neil is sat on the floor, back against Kevin’s legs as the three of them watch the food network. It had become a routine for them, sitting together in the evenings to watch reality TV. Andrew liked shows about baking. Kevin had sheepishly admitted he liked singing competitions and Neil, unsurprisingly, didn’t care as long as Andrew and Kevin were content with what was on.

He’s not sure when it went from being a thing they did to a thing he looked forward to but over time Kevin found himself looking forward to their evening’s huddled together in the living-room. There was something deeply comforting about just existing with his boyfriend’s. No expectations or worrying about the mafia. No forced smiles for the camera or stressing about being the best. In their small living-room Kevin was simply Kevin and his boyfriends were just Andrew and Neil, the loves of his life who never expected anything from him. When their apartment was flushed in the blue light of the TV and the soft glow of side table lamps Kevin felt okay, like despite it all he could still have the life he had always dreamed of escaping to.

After many episodes of Master Chef Junior and a small argument over whether or not Andrew was taller than one of the fifth grade contestants the boys drifted to sleep, one by one. Kevin woke up to a calloused hand tracing his cheekbone, the touch so soft he was sure he had to have still been asleep. When he opened his eyes he was met with Andrew’s golden gaze, the faintest hint of a smile on the shorter man’s face.

“Happy Birthday Queenie.”

If the moment hadn’t been so unusually tender Kevin would have rolled his eyes at the nickname but it was unlike Andrew to be soft and the green eyed man wanted to soak in it as long as possible.

“Not my birthday Drew.” Andrew rolled his eyes, pointing behind him at the clock on the wall.

“It’s 2:48 so it is in fact your birthday, just say thank you or you won’t get your gift.” The blonde’s eyes flicked down to Kevin’s lips before meeting his gaze again.

Kevin leaned forward, closing the space between him and his boyfriend. “Is my gift a kiss?” There was a hint of teasing in Kevin’s tone.

Without warning Andrew pulled back, slowly getting off the couch and bending down to wake up Neil.

“Drew seriously, what are you up to?” Kevin asked but Andrew shushed him. Holding up a finger to signal for him to wait a minute. As Andrew slowly brought Neil back to consciousness Kevin reached for his phone and was surprised to see multiple missed messages, all from shortly after midnight.

Jeremy Knox

12:02am

Happy Birthday Kevin, I hope you have an amazing year. If anyone deserves it it’s you. Come visit soon, Jean keeps hinting that he misses you.

Jean Moreau

12:03am

Fucking Jeremy got to this before I did. Happy Birthday Kev, your feral boyfriends better treat you to something nice. And you better let them. It’s your turn to be celebrated. Not Kevin Day Exy star’s day. Not Kevin Day of the perfect court’s day. Your day. Kevin Day’s day. Come visit soon would you? Jeremy misses you.

Dadmack

12:07am

Kev, Happy Birthday. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to celebrate more of them. You and the heathens come by soon, I need to make sure you’re all still in one piece.

Abby Winfield

12:12am

Happy Birthday Kevin! Your dad and I are so proud of you and I hope you always remember that. Come over to the house for dinner soon, bring Andrew and Neil too.

PS: don’t tell him I told you but David stayed up specifically to send you that text. He misses you, we hope to see you soon.

Aaron Minyard

12:33am

Happy Birthday Kev, another year around the sun and you succeeded in being annoying through it all. Katelyn says Happy Birthday too by the way. Let’s get together soon to catch up, I’d go over but I refuse to spend more time with Josten than necessary, even if it is for you.

Tears welled in Kevin’s eyes as he read the messages. His hands shook as he put down his phone and made eye contact with a now mostly awake Neil.

“It’s your birthday and you can cry all you want to, I get that. But care to share babe? Why are you crying?” Neil’s words were teasing but there was a glint of worry in his eyes.

Kevin let out a sound that was a mixture of a laugh and a sob, causing his boyfriends to stand up and huddle over him. Both waiting for permission to touch. When Kevin nodded his head Andrew began petting his hair, Neil stood above them playing with the fingers on Kevin’s left hand.

“I-I’m not sad. I don’t think so anyways,” this earned him a confused look from Neil. “I’m happy Neil.”

“Oh.” Neil said, confused but relieved that his boyfriend wasn’t upset by something.

The green eyed man didn’t want to admit to a few birthday texts affecting him this much but deep down he knew it wasn’t just the texts.

It was everything hitting him all at once. The feeling of safety he felt during their nightly TV binge sessions. The warmth that spread through his chest as he watched Andrew make pancakes on a Sunday morning. The sound of Neil’s laugh as they go on their early morning runs together. The pride he feels when Andrew shuts down the goal and the way Neil’s body moves so naturally on the court. Jean and Jeremy’s undying support, the friendship they offer him so freely when he doesn’t feel even slightly worthy of it. Aaron and Katelyn who welcome him into their home at any time, no questions asked. His dads unwavering love and support, all the effort he puts in to make up for lost time. Abby’s motherly affection that he never knew he needed until he allowed it. Kevin had a family, a real family for the first time since his mother had died and it terrified him. But for every bit of fear he felt he also felt pride. Pride in the people he loved, his found family that proved time and time again that life is beautiful in ways Kevin never imagined could be real.

“Thank you both, for everything.”

Andrew just nodded, his hand still smoothing over Kevin’s hair. Neil let go of Kevin’s fingers and leaned in, meaning he wanted a kiss. The taller man met him halfway and he felt himself melt into the feeling of Neil’s rough lips against his own.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t kiss him until after we gave him his cake.” Andrew’s tone was flat and he glared up at Neil’s red face.

“Shit I forgot about the plan. Drew you ruined the surprise! Now he knows there’s a cake!”

Reaching up Kevin pulled a still shrieking Neil to his chest, reaching out for Andrew’s hand. With both his boyfriends beside him Kevin smiled, his whole body warm with love.

“Enough about the cake. If you both don’t kiss me I’m going to be crying for real soon.” This earned him a flick on the forehead from Andrew but the blonde quickly made up for it by pressing a kiss to the corner of Kevin’s mouth.

“Happy Birthday my greedy Queen. I hate you, y’know?”

Neil pressed a soft kiss to Kevin’s temple, leaning his forehead against the taller man’s head as he laughed.

“I know, I know. I hate you both too. Forever and always.”

[tedisnotdead]

The water flow stopped, and Andrew sighed, picking up the towel. He looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes scanning across the plain chest and stopping before his view reached his elbows.

"Andrew?" a voice called from the other side of the door, startling him. Andrew took a quick breath, closing his eyes before sighing, reminding himself of where he was. Renee's bathroom. Allison was downstairs, probably preparing baby Seth to stand in the crowd with her. "Nicky just left me your clothes. Do you want me to leave them in the spare room for you?"

"Yess." Andrew replied, looking down and pulling his boxers on. "I'll be out in a second." He reached for the armbands, pulling them on and tucking his thumb into the holes before walking out.

Betsy, Nicky and Erik were changing at home. They didn't need the preparation like the twins did, they wouldn't get picked. Jesse was safe too, wrapped up between his dads but next year he wouldn't. Next year he would be up there, and Andrew couldn't save him. Andrew had already felt the guilt of the six years he missed protecting his cousin and the four years he missed with his brother.

When they were united two years ago, it was a shock to everyone around them. Andrew had been in Betsy's care his entire life before then, with help from Renee for a few years during his more rebellious phase. When Renee started her fighting lessons twelve years ago, he was one of the firsts to sign up. Eight years after Andrew signed up, another Andrew signed up. Renee knew it wasn't him. And she mentioned it to Betsy, who connected the fourteen-year olds and since took them both in, alongside their cousin. A year later, Nicky introduced his boyfriend and his son to the family, and they were welcomed with open arms.

Betsy took two-week-old Andrew in from the day she saw him left on the side of the work field, wrapped in only a blanket. She took him home, where eight-year-old Renee was waiting. She hadn't been ditched like Andrew, she has been unfortunately orphaned by a factory malfunction and lost her mother at only six.  

Renee and Andrew grew up alongside each other, but when she left for the games at age thirteen, they knew they would never be the same. Renee came back a victor, that's when she started her fighting lessons. Betsy advised against it but saw her development and let her work. When Andrew questioned her why she let her fight after she had won, Betsy reminded him Renee had won for a reason.

That's when he met Wymack. David Wymack, the winner of the forty-third Hunger Games. David Wymack, the man who relied on the pain of tattoos to give him a mental escape from the pain that the Games had caused him. The same David Wymack who took Jean Moreau out of Betsy's care less than a week after she took him in.  

"Just because Jean was taken in by the Wymacks, it doesn't mean that you're not wanted." Betsy would always say. She would say the same thing every time she took one kid into her home and then they were taken in by a family a few days after. "You are just as valid. You are just as special. You just need to wait for your special time to shine."

Eight years passed and Aaron appeared. They united, Nicky was introduced, and Betsy took them all in. Betsy introduced them to Wymack, who introduced them to his kids and the Boyds. Befriending the entire of the Victors Village was a kick in the guts to Andrew. A reminder how he wasn't special, how he was basically nothing in comparison to some people.

Jean remembered him though. Jean made him feel special way. Not a romantic or sexual thing. Andrew knew those. Well, he knew sexual. He knew from all the hook-ups behind the factories, he knew from the nights he stayed at Roland's, a classmate in Renee's fighting class, and experimented with things. He knew from the start he was gay, but never said it out loud. He wasn't too confident when it came to romantic feelings however, but he had an idea.  

Jean Moreau-Wymack was his first and only friend. Renee accepted this, seeing how they're bond was more sibling like than friends. Jean joined him on the tree searched. Andrew taught him to climb quick, how to spot the nests quickly, how to remove both wasp and birds safely. In return, Jean baked him sweet goods. The banana breads and cakes and muffins rolled through the door daily, Jean delivering them every morning with a small smile. Occasionally, Jean would bake with exotic flavors that David Wymack brought back from his annual visits to the Capitol.

With all the time Andrew had started spending Jean, Aaron began spending it with the other child in the Wymack household. Kevin Wymack-Day. David's biological child from a woman he didn't meet again after their one-night stand.

When Kayleigh, Kevin's mother, passed Kevin had been put in the custody of David. Jean, Kayleigh's other child, had been given to Betsy to be cared for. David hunted him down and took him in, not having the heart to separate the kids.

Aaron and Kevin clicked the second they met. Both being insufferable, obsessive assholes in Andrew's opinion (and Jean's, but that was one of the secrets between the two that were shared in the tops of trees over a muffin each). Aaron's obsession laying in the profession of David's wife, Abby Wymack. One of the best doctors in District 7. Since Aaron became closer with her, he became more obsessed over the profession and soon, if he survived the final reaping, would become her apprentice. Kevin's obsession laid in a Capitol sport, Exy. Whenever his father visited the Capitol for the games, he would bring back his son merchandise of his favorite teams. David had a friend in the Capitol who recorded every game so he could take them home and Kevin could watch them.

Andrew reached the spare room and froze before remembering where he was. Renee's house. Aaron was at the Wymacks', using their shower like Andrew was using Renee's. He knew the only reason was to see Kevin, and 'secretly' say goodbye and good luck in their own special way.

Their attraction to each other was not unknown, practically everyone knew. But it was obvious they were waiting until Aaron's last reaping, until today, to make anything exclusive. As long as they snuck out of the Victors Village before anyone began to head to the town center, no one would notice the luxurious treatment the twins were getting.

The clothes were spread out, waiting on the spare room bed. Nicky's old black, short sleeved button up shirt and a pair of Erik's old, tight fit, wash jeans. A pair of old boots that Betsy had managed to afford where on the floor, with a pair of Allison's bright pink socks laying neatly in the neck of the boot.  

"You'll need to be ready in a few minutes Andrew." Renee's voice filtered through the door again. "The ceremony starts in an hour. People begin to move soon." Her footsteps echoed down the corridor as she left and Andrew looked at the clothes, sighing.

◒◓◒◓◒

Andrew stepped out, seeing Kevin and Aaron talking through a gap in the curtains. He sat back, waiting silently and watched them argue.  

"They're horrible." Jean mumbled, sitting next to Andrew on the wall, leaving a large enough space for Capitol's largest man to sit between them. "Kevin kicked me out so I couldn't hear. I think they're talking about their latest hook-up." He took a bite from a muffin, leaving one on the wall beside Andrew. "It was at ours while we were climbing. I think they think we're fucking."

"How disappointed will they be when they find out we don't fuck; we talk shit about them and stuff our faces with shit." Andrew mumbled and Jean giggled, taking another bite. "Truth for a truth?" Jean nodded. "I'm nervous."

"That's well justified." Jean said. "Your name is at the highest chance it's ever been, and ever will be. But some people do sadly have their names in there more than you. So, the chance it being you is low. And the chance it's Aaron is even lower, since your name is still in there from the past years of tesserae. "Jean sighed. "I'm gay. I think." Jean mumbled before looking over.

"Want another round?" Andrew asked and Jean stopped before nodding. He took another bite of his muffin, looking forward again. "I'm gay too." Andrew said, picking his muffin up. "I've known for a few years."

"I have a crush on Jeremy." Jean said. Andrew turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "The baker's son. I used to talk to him a lot when I lived with Kayleigh. She would let me pick up her weekly orders from the bakery and I would pay them with grain and milk. I used to talk to Jeremy every Sunday, and that's why I like baking. Because I like Jeremy. "

Andrew looked back through the window, seeing them still talking. Aaron seemed more angry than usual during their 'conversations'. "You should offer to work there." Andrew suggested. "You could see him more."

Jean laughed, looking down before taking the final bite. "I could, but who would you hang out with then? You haven't got any other friends." "I have Jesse." Andrew said, taking a bite. "This is good. What flavor is it?"

"It's another new one from the Capitol called Palmetto. It's basically a super sweet blood orange." Jean said. "And Jesse doesn't count. He's got school you know."

"I'll teach him then." Andrew argued, his eyes following Jean as the older boy got up and started pacing. "I remember all my lessons. I could teach him with no struggle." Jean snorted, looking up. "Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"Kicked out remember?" Jean mumbled, looking back at Andrew. Andrew shrugged, taking another bite from his muffin and Jean laughed. "I should. Aaron seems to be done in the shower, so if I go straight up Kev probably won't care." Andrew nodded, taking another bite quickly. "I need to, don't I?" Andrew nodded again. "I'll see you after. Good luck Andrew." Jean turned to walk back.

"Jean." Andrew said and he stopped, turning. "If I get picked, don't be nervous to say goodbye."

Jean knew that was Andrew asking him to come. But Andrew didn't like asking. Andrew didn't want to ask, say the word please. It wasn't how Andrew worked, and Jean knew that. He never questioned why, but he knew that. He never pressed any questions when it came to Andrew, because Andrew never did the same to him. He never questioned the scars on his cheek or the roughness of his hands or the burn marks that Jean turned up with.

"I will." Jean said, smiling gently. "I hope you enjoyed the muffin! If I do need to visit you, I'll bring one along. A parting gift." He laughed before walking inside.

Andrew watched the door for a few seconds after it closed before moving his glance to the gap in the curtains. Their argument went on for a few more minutes until Aaron looked out the window. Andrew raised an eyebrow and Aaron sighed, turning back to Kevin and saying something before leaving.

"Trouble in paradise?" Andrew muttered when Aaron reached his side.

"Shut up." Aaron muttered, already towards the village entrance.

He was dressed in a tight red shirt, it looked like Kevin's with the way it was too tight around his waist but loose around the arms, and a pair of trousers which were too torn to belong to a victor, and the style choice only pointed to Nicky. Too tight around the thighs with baggy bottoms. Just how Erik liked it.

"He just wanted to wish me good luck and I wanted to thank him, or tell him to thank his dad, for letting me use their shower."

"Wish you good luck with a massive smooch." Andrew said, walking after him.

"As if you and Jean weren't doing the same." Aaron muttered, scowling at him.

"Jean was actually just telling me about his crush. I got a name and everything. It was glorious." Andrew said. As Aaron went to ask, Andrew continued, "But I will not be saying anything about the mystery person. It was in our game, and I never tell secrets from our game."

"You're stupid shitty 'Truth for a truth' game?" Aaron asked and Andrew nodded. "I don't know why you two play that. It's not even a game, its talking. Like normal people do. You and Jean are weird."

"I think Jean is smarter than you when it comes to most things." Andrew mumbled, pushing the gate at the end of the pathway open. Nicky looked up through the window, smiling when he saw the twins. "If him being weird is the consequence of that, I don't think he minds.  

"Fucking weirdo." Aaron muttered, pushing past. Nicky immediately fussed over him, asking where the shirt he left out was. Erik moved closer to Andrew, holding Jesse in his arms.

"I have missed you." Erik said.  

"Jesse." Andrew called and the young boy looked over. "Want to hug?" Jesse nodded excitedly. Erik squatted down, letting Jesse run over. But just before he reached Andrew, he slowed down and then calmly wrapped his arms around Andrew's waist. "Oh Andrew, you look amazing." Nicky whispered. "I wish Betsy could see you before the ceremony, but she's already gone to get the other kids ready." He stood up, smiling. "You both look amazing. And we are going to get through this, and we are going to come home and be calm and happy."

His smile faltered for a second, but he plastered it back on before Aaron could notice. Erik and Andrew did, but both decided to stay quiet, knowing he was trying his hardest.

"Andrew, are you sure you don't want to move to a factory job with me and Aaron? You could watch the games."

"I'm fine being a clearer." Andrew mumbled. "I get good pay and I only have to talk to Jean. I see no flaws."

"But you can't watch the games." Nicky said.

"Erik doesn't like to watch the games. Neither do I." Andrew said, looking down at Jesse, who had buried his face in Andrew's side. "I am happy getting the updates from you over dinner."

Nicky went to say something, but Erik stepped forward and whispered into his ear. Nicky sighed, looking at him. Erik pecked his lips softly.

"We should get going, though," Andrew said, pushing Jesse back lightly and holding his hand out. Jesse smiled widely, taking his hand and holding tightly, as if his life depended on it.

The walk to the town center was mostly fully of Nicky's nervous rambling, with Erik and Aaron occasionally responding. But Andrew ignored them and chose to focus on the small tune Jesse was humming, squeezing his hand along to the beat.

When they reached the town center, Erik picked Jesse back up. Jesse waved to Andrew sadly before his dad carried him off, holding Nicky's hand. They passed the peacekeepers and stood in the crowd beside Jean and Kevin. Andrew took off down the silent path, leading them to the identification tables.

He could see over the peacekeepers' shoulders, David, Matt and Renee lined up along the back of the stage, with their escort, Kathy Ferdinand, standing in front of them. She was talking animatedly to them, with her big blonde hair and eyes practically painted with pink. The skin-tight pink leather dress clung to her to an uncomfortably revealing extent where Andrew had to look away.

"Next." The peacekeeper said and Andrew looked up, seeing Aaron's whole-body flinch. "Go through. Next."

Andrew stepped forward, holding his hand forward. The peacekeeper grabbed his wrist roughly, tugging it forward and pricking the end of his finger. They then pressed it to the paper, scanned it and let him through.

Andrew rushed through, pushing through all the crowds to find his brother. Aaron was waiting nervously, wringing his wrists. Andrew pushed through the crowd until he ended up besides his brother, waiting silently.

"What if we get picked?" Aaron whispered, looking at his brother. Andrew shrugged, keeping his eyes focused on the stage. "Andrew I'm serious." he said before his voice was drowned out by Kathy tapping the microphone.

"Welcome, welcome." she said, smiling at everyone.

The neon yellow contacts she wore made everyone unsettled, but she continued, her cat-like eyes scanning the crowd.

"Welcome to the fifty seventh Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor." She smirked, looking across to the group of people who weren't being reaped, taunting them. "Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and women for the honor of representing district seven in this year's Hunger Games." She stopped for a second, smiling. "As usual, ladies first."

She shuffled across the stage in her overly tight dress and waved her hand over the bowl. A hand skimmed Andrew's wrist and he looked down, seeing Aaron's beside his, the knuckles brushing the black cloth. Andrew slid his hand into his brothers as Kathy waddled back to the microphone.

"Marissa Goodman." Kathy read out, looking across the crowd. People were stepped aside two sections before the twins.

Sixteen years old, Andrew told himself. The girl stepped forward, dressed in a light green dress which skimmed her knees and her hair tied into a tight ponytail.

"Come on up dear, don't be afraid." Four peacekeepers surrounded her, leading her up to the stage. Marissa slowly walked up, and Kathy enthusiastically welcomed her. "And now the boys."

Aaron's grip tightened on his hand as she reached the glass bowl. Kathy smiled, waving her hand around the top before diving in and pulling out one white slip. She slowly shuffled back to the microphone and leant close, undoing the slip slowly. She smirked before reading, "Aaron Michael Minyard."

"I volunteer as tribute." Andrew looked down before he even had acknowledged the words come out of his mouth. He looked back up, seeing everyone staring at him. Aaron was looking at him with tearful eyes.

"Not Andrew." he whispered, but Andrew pushed past. "No. Andrew stop!" he shouted, following him through. Andrew took his place in between the peacekeepers but was dragged back violently. "I won't let you do this." Aaron shouted.

"I volunteer." Andrew repeated, making direct eye contact with Aaron. Aaron shook his head, his mouth opening and closing until the first tear rolled down his cheek and his grip on Andrew's arm loosened.  

Aaron was pulled back quickly, and Andrew recognized the hand around his twin's shoulders immediately. Jean pulled Aaron back, avoiding Andrew's eye. Andrew turned around and followed the peacekeepers down the aisle. Renee was staring at him, shocked, from the back of the stage. Matt's eyes were filled with tears, while Wymack's jaw was clenched.  

Andrew didn't remember as far back as to when he was four, but he knew Wymack's story.

Wymack had trained as hard as he could after losing a close friend to the games when he was twelve. When David turned eighteen, he volunteered himself before the name was even called out. His reasoning was to save one more helpless kid from being killed in his district. This caused him to become a fan favorite in the Capitol, and a respected citizen in the district. In every shop, I have had a discount. Everyone smiled at him in the streets. Everyone welcomed him into their homes and invited him round for dinner.

Every year, when the victors returned, all three of the victors visited the houses of the fallen tributes to mourn with them for one night. They supplied the family with the food for the night and left them all the leftovers. It was a tradition started by Wymack, but when Renee won the forty-fourth Hunger Games, she joined in. And when Matt won the fifty-first Hunger Games, he became the final part of the trio.

Andrew was snapped out of his thoughts when he reached the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the stage. He made eye contact with Renee, who smiled gently at him. He sighed before walking up.

"A volunteer!" Kathy cried, holding her hand out to showcase Andrew's arrival. "Now, what's your name young man?"

"Andrew Joseph Minyard." Andrew said, looking forward.

Jean was finally looking at him, his face contorted with fear. Nicky was beside him, crying into Erik's shoulder. Erik was staring at Andrew in fear while Jesse sobbed, bundled in Betsy's arms. Aaron was crying, while being held back by Kevin.  

"Oh, and was that your brother I picked?" Kathy asked, smiling widely.

"Yes, my twin brother." Andrew answered, trying to keep his voice monotone.

"How lovely." Kathy said before turning to the crowd again. "Here we are. Our tributes from district seven!" She started clapping, but everyone stayed silent.

Jean brought three fingers up to his lips before raising them above his head. Slowly, everyone around him began to do the same, the gesture spreading among the crowd. A single tear rolled down Jean's scarred cheek and Andrew took a deep breath before bringing three fingers to his own lips then raising them above his head.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Kathy cried, "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

They turned away, Kathy leading them both to the door at the back. Andrew flinched away from her touch, overtaking Marissa and pushing himself into the corridor.

"Andrew." Renee said, walking up to him.

"Not." Andrew spat out through gritted teeth.

He would not let himself cry; he would not let himself cry.

"We can talk on the train. I want to say goodbye to them."

[victcrias]

                                                   — 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐔. —                    BIOGRAPHY ✦ STATISTICS ✦ CONNECTIONS ✦ FULL NAVIGATION                                                                  psd credit: joutscn

— ABOUT.

full name / nickname: victoria jean moreau ( will answer to anything, most commonly used nicknames are vic, v, and rory )

age / date of birth: thirty-eight, born on november 16, 1983

zodiac sign: scorpio

gender: cis female (she/her/hers)

place of birth: brooklyn, new york city, new york

arrondissement: élysée

sexual / romantic orientations: bisexual biromantic

religion: agnostic, still celebrates major jewish holidays that she celebrated as a child

occupation: actress, is side hustling as a vintner / businesswoman

— PERSONALITY.

goals / desires: professionally would like to develop her own wines and open a winery, wants to continue taking roles that challenge her or eventually step behind the camera and do production work. personally wants to mend her approach on relationships, find people who she is genuinely compatible with then actually put in the work necessary to keep them in her life, and reconnect with her semi-estranged siblings. she’d also love nothing more than to get her hands on every tabloid that has ever referred to her by her media nickname, v-mo, and burn them to the ground, but girlie dreams big.

fears: inadequacy, loneliness for the remainder of her life, being buried alive, having her voice stripped from her, never being known by others beyond the surface-deep perceptions of herself.

hobbies: walking her dog, trying out new recipes in her kitchen, methodically highlighting things, collecting makeup and then shade matching / doing the makeup anyone who will let her use them as her canvas, karaoke bars, window shopping, reading, watching films, kickboxing / weightlifting, finding the best buffalo wings and beer combination. 

likes: new highlighters, thoughtful conversations, getting tattoos, having someone play with her hair, homemade truffle mac and cheese, i love lucy reruns, being outdoors in the sun, furniture shopping, baking, a well-made drink, getting her hands dirty ( figuratively and literally ) the weight of her bag when she has a script in it, deep dish pizza, musicals, a good book, nights out, popping the cork off of a fresh bottle of wine, trying on jewelry. 

dislikes: having to use hotel-issued shampoo / conditioner, the feeling of getting a spray tan, the smell of gasoline, confrontations that ultimately lead to a stalemate, people not using their turn signals, divulging on her private life, people cracking their fingers / knuckles, arrogance, small talk, the texture of wool.

hogwarts house: ravenclaw

— FAMILY.

parents: vincent moreau and elizabeth moreau neé jacobs

sibling(s): two older brothers and one younger sister 

pet(s): an australian shepherd named swayze

— POTENTIAL CONNECTIONS.

friends, all the friends ! platonic soulmates, ride or dies, confidants, casual friends, friends through work, friends who are like siblings, new friends, reconnected friends, friends who everyone thinks are toting around some sexual tension / will they won’t they energy, and more !

work ties of any and all kind — maybe victoria has collaborated with them in the past on a project or just knows them from networking / parties

flings / hookups / one night stands

friends with benefits that can stay perfectly platonic / friends with benefits that begin to get muddled with Feelings / friends with benefits that turn sour.

exes of any flavor — good terms, bad terms, haven’t spoken since, exes that aren’t crazy about seeing the other person moving on

a pair that almost Made It, but something just didn’t work out. whether it was timing, a lack of a true connection, or something entirely different, two people who never get together after what i imagine is quite a bit of time flirting and the occasional date here and there. things could’ve ended just fine, things could still be a little awkward, or full-blown tension because angst is fun

blind dates

antagonistic relationships, too — messy vibes where they get along swimmingly one day and the next they are ready to rip each other’s throats out, former friends, anything and everything !

i’ll be submitting wcs through to the main for these, but : either of victoria’s ex husbands, and victoria’s siblings — two older brothers, one younger sister.

+ i’m open to so many more, this is just a very base list of ideas we can bounce off of ! please come poke me in ims or on discord and let’s create something so incredible together that tumblr regrets the day it ever opened its servers

[side-effect-of-the-meds]

PLEASE write about Andrew & Jean being chaotic and bitter bffs on the same team the power they would have the intimidation level the fashionable goth energy,,, w ow also I want Andrew to learn French so badly which we all know he would if Jean started insulting him in French

IT WON’T BE UP ANY TIME SOON but I’m writing a fic about Andrew visiting Renee’s for winter break in his final year of college in which he’s forced to spend the week sharing a space with Jean. 

Over the course of said week, they form a tentative alliance that’s essentially that We’re Not So Different You And I bit by John Mulaney 

Anyway, that’s like mid-way through Andrew’s fourth year. They don’t speak again until a little before Andrew’s graduation. The Foxes have just won the Championships they made it to finals last year and lost the last  game :’( and so they’re having a party. Andrew needed some air so he stepped outside and, a little while later, he hears footsteps on the porch behind him. Jean sits down, leaving some space between the two of them so as not to crowd Andrew, and just sort of slides a piece of paper over. Andrew keeps up his cool guy facade for a while, assuming Jean will break first. He does. 

“Would you just look at it?” Jean snarled. Andrew flicked him a cool look before, picking up the paper painstakingly slowly. He held it up to his own face, not bothering to actually read it. “Illiterate too, I see.” Andrew could barely keep the scowl off his face. He squinted at the stack of papers he picked up. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“Our goalkeep is, how you say? A piece of shit.”  

“You’re giving him more credit than he deserves,” Andrew cut in, his lips curling in a sneer. 

“I’m getting tired of being the last line of defense. It’s hard not having anyone to watch your back,” Jean said, shooting a meaningful look at Andrew. He elected to ignore it in favor of taking another drag of his cigarette. Jean muttered something that sounded like a curse before standing up and disappearing back into Abby’s house.

A month later, Jean stepped out of his apartment wondering which horrid little monsters the Cardinals had signed now. Turning towards the stairs, he found his answer waiting for him. 

“There’s no point in both of us driving down there. You make breakfast and I’ll drive,” the gremlin said. It wasn’t an offer or even a demand. He said it as though he were stating a fact. 

“The arrogance of Americans never fails to amaze me,” Jean shot back. 

“You’ve got dual citizenship, Frenchie. I’m sorry to say it, but that makes you one of us.” With that, the little monster turned on his heel and headed down the stairs. Jean muttered a steady stream of curses as he followed Andrew out to the Maserati

Having Andrew on his team is literally the worst. All he ever does is laze around. Sometimes, he’ll just lay down in the middle of the goal and stare at the ceiling. Jean gets a lot of shit for it bc he’s the one that recommended him for the line. It’s the day of their first game and tensions are high at practice when Jean loses his temper. He picks up an exy ball and hurls it at Andrew. Without even looking up, Andrew catches it with one hand. He stands slowly and throws it back so fast that Jean doesn’t have time to react. The ball wedges itself into the grate of his helmet, the force of it knocking him off his feet. Everyone assumes that Andrew isn’t going to play that night or will just be his asshole self but, when Jean finds himself struggling to hold the line, Andrew gets sent out and he’s an absolute monster in the goal. Every shot that comes his way gets deflected all the way down the court. The last goal of the night is made in the final seven seconds when Andrew slams a shot all the way down the court into the opposing goal. It lights up red and the crowd loses their shit. Exhausted, Jean collapses on the floor. 

“It’s hard not having anyone to have your back,” Andrew said as he passed by. By the time Jean found his voice, Andrew was already gone. Catching a ride home with one of the strikers, Jean felt a tightness in his chest. Andrew was an annoyingly lazy little bastard but Jean should have trusted him.

Jean doesn’t know how to apologize. Words are wasted on the likes of Andrew so he says nothing. He wakes early to make breakfast the next morning and says a silent prayer. Andrew is never late to anything but, when 6:30 rolls around and he isn’t there Jean’s heart plummets. He leaves the plate out on the counter while he eats. The ticking of the clock is deafeningly loud. At 6:47 there’s a knock at the door and Jean nearly faceplants in his hurry to answer it. 

“Your food’s gone cold,” Jean blurted out. Andrew turned a glare on him but said nothing as he shouldered his way into the apartment. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. His shoulders sagged, weighed down by exhaustion. There was no way he’d gotten a wink of sleep last night. 

“Moreau,” a voice said from the door. Jean whipped around to see Matt Boyd standing at the door. How he’d missed such a tall person standing in his doorway, Jean didn’t know. “Mind if I come in?” Jean stepped aside and Matt moved in. 

“Are you hungry?” Jean asked, haltingly. Boyd was the starting backliner for the Virginia Cavaliers, a whole state over. What the hell was he doing here? 

“I could eat,” Matt said brightly. He grabbed hold of a chair and dragged it over to where Andrew sat. 

“Not out of my plate,” Andrew snapped when Matt made to steal his eggs. Jean made his way to the kitchen to fix a third plate. From the dining room he could hear Andrew’s voice and Boyd’s laughter. Handing the plate over to him, Jean took his seat at the far end of the table. For the next quarter of an hour, Boyd rambled on about something or the other. If you asked Jean what he’d talked about, he wouldn’t have been able to say. He was far too absorbed in watching Andrew. 

The usual tension that pervaded his form had fallen away. Despite the obvious lack of sleep, Andrew seemed far more relaxed than usual. Every now and again, Jean saw his lips twitch up into the barest hint of a smile. From what he’d heard, Andrew had never had a good relationship with any of his teammates save Josten. But that made sense. Neil was his lover. What was it about Boyd that softened him so much? 

As soon as breakfast was finished and the plates cleaned, Jean disappeared back into his room to grab his phone. By the time he’d returned, both Andrew and Boyd were gone from the dining room. Jean found the pair blocking the open door. He stopped short when he heard Boyd’s voice. 

“I’ve missed you so much, Andy.” His words shook Jean to his core. 

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked quietly. Jean watched in stunned silence as Matt leaned down, mumbling yes a hair’s breadth away from Andrew’s lips. The second the word left his mouth, Andrew closed the distance between them. A soft moan slipped from Boyd’s lips and Jean watched in horror as he tangled his hands in Andrew’s hair. “Stop staring, Moreau,” Andrew said as he broke the kiss. 

“I thought that you and Josten-”

“We are,” Andrew cut in dismissively. “Matt is too.”

“Oh,” was all Jean could think to say. Back at the Nest, there had been no exclusive relationships. While most relationships in the real world weren’t like that, Jean had heard there were still a few. Boyd said his goodbyes before heading down the hall to the back stairwell. Andrew started off in the other direction. Jean had to run after him once he’d locked the door. Neither of them spoke in the car. They never did but there was a weight to the silence now that Jean didn’t know what to do about. A thousand small talk topics flitted through his head but he knew Andrew wouldn’t appreciate any of it so he kept his mouth shut, contenting himself to stare out the window. 

Jean is ready to run by the time that they pull up at the court but he doesn't. He needs to prove that he’s going to have Andrew’s back so he stays with him. 

It’s kind of awkward for a while. Andrew doesn’t like having Jean towering over him from behind bc it makes him feel vulnerable so he’s always really tense. 

The turning point in their relationship is when a striker from another team tries to start a twitter feud with Andrew. He gets asked about it in an interview and the interviewer pulls a Kathy Ferdinand and reveals that the striker is backstage. Jean is sitting with Andrew for the interview and when they try to start shit live on air, Jean snaps. He cuts the striker a new one, roasting them within an inch of their life and the interview is forced to end bc the striker throws a punch. Andrew steps in front of Jean, catching the punch with ease and judo flipping them. 

Neither of them really acknowledge that it happened but, when Andrew comes to breakfast the following Monday, he brings a loaf of sweet bread that he baked over the weekend. 

Things kind of settle after that. Sometimes Andrew leaves recipes for foods he wants and Jean starts filling their silences with something other than the news. He complains about Americans and moons over Jeremy and starts teaching Andrew French too. 

Jean has his own tiktok and most of his vids are of himself cooking and have Andrew reacting at the end but there’s a few subsections tho. One of them is Andrew and Jean and their baking escapades. It’s always super messy. Another is their ‘date nights’. On the weekends, the two of them get a little extra dressed up and go out to sample new restaurants.  They’re both massive foodies so they like to try new restaurants together. Andrew is a surprisingly picky eater and listening to him critic food is the most Jean has ever heard him speak. Platonic dates are actually incredibly nice n more ppl need to indulge in them. 

The final subsection is fashion/makeup. Jean likes to do makeup bc… why not? Sometimes, he manages to convince Andrew to let him be his model and does some really interesting looks on Andrew. Those videos never see the light of day but it’s something they do and it’s very important to Andrew. There’s something very intimate about letting Jean touch his face for hours on end but it also kind of feels nice. Also he loves the way Neil and Matt fawn over him when he skypes them with his makeup done. The fashion videos,  however, do go up. The two of them go to the mall p often and take turns styling each other. They do style challenges too where they’re both given the same horrible item (something like crocs or a really ugly sweater) and they have to make the other person look good in them. 

They do little nice things for each other. When Neil has a game against Bluefield, Jean gets Andrew front row tickets for him and manages to convince Matt to come down too. Andrew learns how to make french pastries that he leaves on Jean’s counter pretty often bc it reminds him of home. He also gets Allison to help him pull some strings and arrange for Jean to spend Christmas break in France with Jeremy. Jean doesn’t cry but he does tear up a little bit. 

Andrew is still a menace and you see that on his tiktok. He rigs ridiculous pranks like setting up a tripwire to dump glue and feather on him or wrapping all his stuff in plastic wrap.

[distinctivelibrarians]

Weight in the Shoulders, Flint in the Eyes

(read on ao3)

“A look through the years at the man Eliot sees in the mirror.”

warnings: non-explicit disassociation

The uniform doesn’t fit.

Loose in the shoulders. Crisp in the joints, so it stretches along the flat planes of his arms and legs. Long in the legs, the ankles crumpled up around his boots.

The sun is just starting to peek through the cheap curtains, pale and dusty, stretching thin and weak onto a lumpy, dusty comforter. His bag’s packed and resting at the foot of the bed.

All that’s left is to grab it and go wait for the bus.

And all he can do is just. Stand there. Looking in the mirror.

The uniform doesn’t fit.

And he’s ecstatic.

Standing there in that cheap ass motel room, with soft light rounding out his edges in the mirror, in a uniform that doesn’t fit yet, Eliot can’t stop smiling.

This is him.

Bright blue eyes meet themselves in the mirror, and there’s a reflected smile he hasn’t been able to wipe off since he started putting the damn thing on. The cap doesn’t quite sit right, but that’s more because he can’t stop straightening everything out and every time he blinks, it’s crooked again.

The anxiety of the building week is still there, hooked behind his teeth and sitting heavy in his gut.

Aimee said goodbye two weeks ago, and Eliot knows it wasn’t supposed to sound so final to both of them. But it had fallen between them, and neither had really tried to move it again.

His dad hasn’t called.

But for the first time in a month, he can breathe around that weight in his stomach. Can smile around the pain and mean it.

The uniform doesn’t fit.

But it will.

One last grin to the boy in the mirror before he’s grabbing his bag and heading out to wait for the bus.

---

The uniform never really fits.

---

He’s in a motel somewhere. He’s not entirely sure where - can’t really find it in himself to care too much.

The sun outside is hot, baking scorched earth to a sear and scattering wisps of refracted almost-vapor along the cracked dirt and asphalt. There’s a grit to his breathing, and he’s not sure if it’s from the dirt outside seeping through every crack and crevice in the paper thin walls, or from the hangover he’s nursing.

Arizona? New Mexico maybe.

He’s not entirely sure how many state lines he crossed yesterday. He was in Utah the morning before, he knows that for sure. He’d gone south on the interstate and kind of just. Stopped paying attention.

The room isn’t anything special. One bed, one side table, a chair he’s pretty sure was stolen from a cafeteria somewhere, and a tv older than he is on a piece of furniture a little too beaten and worn to properly be called a dresser. There’s a small bathroom off to the side that’s a little rusted, but surprisingly clean.

And there’s a mirror. A full-length one, just to the right of the tv.

Why it’s there, he has no idea. But, then, there’s also a framed picture of...what’s he pretty sure is supposed to be a bowl of fruit hanging over the bed, that’s he been staring at upside down for the past hour.

He needs to get up. His body aches from sitting in a car all day yesterday, his head hurts from the shit and plentiful bar across the street that he’d practically camped at last night.

But he needs to get up. Keep moving.

He needs to get back home.

Groaning softly, Eliot pushes himself up, grimacing at the bright light he’s now at the perfect angle to squint at. Dragging a hand down his face, he hauls himself out of the bed, glancing around and taking a quick stock of...well, everything.

His bag’s on the chair where he tossed it. A couple change of clothes, his uniform folded and packed at the bottom, his discharge papers shoved into the side...it’s not a lot.

Besides the crumpled comforter and the bag, there’s no real evidence that anyone had been in the room.

He doesn’t know why his brain sticks on that, but it takes a good couple of minutes to get moving again.

Only to stop. Again.

In front of the mirror.

There’s something...weird. About it. Something his fried brain isn’t connecting. Frowning and squinting, he steps up to the mirror.

He’s as much of a mess as he feels like right now. Jeans crinkled and torn - the hole at the side of his shin is new though - long sleeve shirt a slept-in mess of wrinkles. He wants to blame the harsh light behind him for the sharp cut of his cheeks and the burnt look to his skin, but he can’t quite lie to himself that badly. It’s been a good long while since he’d cared if he burned under the sun or had enough in his stomach to do more than keep going.

His hair’s just starting to grow out of the short clip he’d gotten a couple weeks ago for his last show in his BDUs, curling where it’s not mashed down and bent at odd angles. He needs to get it cut again. Probably. Maybe.

...Why?

Shaking his head, he focuses back on the mirror. Something was still off.

It takes a long couple of minutes - standing there in the harsh light of a fading day, in a room no one’s been in - for him to start to understand.

He doesn’t recognize the man watching him back in the mirror.

Sure, Eliot’s seen himself, over the years. He recognizes where his weight falls as he stands there, recognizes the scar curling around and under his hairline, recognizes the clothes he picked up three days ago when he got off the plane.

He recognizes all of that.

But the man as a whole?

He’s a goddamn stranger. And what makes Eliot’s stomach curl on nothing, makes his teeth ache down into his jaw - he can’t remember when that man showed up.

He makes it to the bathroom before he starts heaving at least.

---

He doesn’t go home.

---

It’s not that he avoids mirrors after that.

If where he’s camped out has one, he takes a look every morning. Takes in the cut of his clothes. How his hair is growing out - how well it’s hiding that scar. Where his weight settles in his stance.

Looks for someone he’ll recognize.

Never quite manages to meet the eyes staring back at him.

---

He recognizes the man in the mirror, one morning.

Recognizes the heavy set to his shoulders. The black cloth stretched across them.

Recognizes the hard twist to his mouth. The paling bruises across his knuckles.

The hard glint in his eyes.

---

He didn’t run then. Knows he should have. Makes himself sick, remembering that the shock of recognizing did...absolutely nothing.

---

What gets Eliot gone from under Moreau’s thumb wasn’t the shock of recognizing himself in the mirror.

Wasn’t realizing that he’d met his own eyes for the first time in eight years.

It was realizing he’d stopped looking for someone else.

---

He still doesn’t avoid mirrors.

But he’s...more careful, as the years march on.

Makes sure to watch the slope of his shoulders - looking for a hard line with no way to soften but to snap.

Keeps an eye on his hands - watching for bruises that stay and stay and stain.

Takes stock of the wrinkles around his eyes, and the ones around his mouth - keeping track of what’s added a new thin line and where.

Meets his own eyes. Lets them be bright with a laugh or soft with a smile. Lets them glint with anything but a knife’s edge.

---

He doesn’t recognize the man in the mirror again.

But he thinks he can. Eventually.

---

By the time he’s roped into a Mastermind’s convoluted crusade, with the worst actress he’s ever seen, a hacker with a brain too fast for his own good, and a thief who looks at skyscrapers a little too high with a little too much glee, he still doesn’t recognize the man in the mirror. Not completely.

But he likes him a little bit more.

---

Eliot knows it’s a bad idea. Soon as he has it. But he has to see. Has to see what locking up Moreau does.

He makes it back to his apartment after the flight, after making sure everyone else made it home safely.

He...doesn’t know what he’s expecting.

Maybe lighter shoulders. Softer eyes. Some intangible thing that he wouldn’t notice until it was gone.

A kid he doubt he’d even recognize.

But there’s...nothing. The harsh light of the bathroom shows nothing more than it should.

Just a man.

And Eliot hates what he sees in that moment - hates the man standing in front of him.

Hates the hair he’s put too much care into. Hands the hands that have lost the permanent calluses. Hates the mouth with deep lines echoing laughter long past.

Hates everything that shows he hasn’t done a single thing about Moreau in years.

Hates every little detail that says he moved on, when he had no right to.

Hates himself.

For the first time in years, he hates himself.

---

It sets him back a little, his breakdown in that dingy little bathroom, across the city from his team. His team. Who’s safe. Because the one man who could actually do them harm is locked away, for good.

He helped with that. He did that.

The man in the mirror isn’t completely lost.

---

He’s not lying when he tells Nate that he still gets up every morning, looking for the boy that once smiled alone at a uniform that didn’t fit.

Because he does. And it still hurts when he can’t find him.

It’s a pain he’s not sure he could articulate, even if he wanted to.

It still hurts - always will, he’s pretty sure. But there’s the pain you shy away from, because you’re bleeding and scared and there’s nowhere to go, and there’s the pain you lean into, because coming out the other side is a victory on it’s own.

So, no, he’s not lying when he tells Nate about that boy.

But the point he’s making isn’t about what died all those years ago - what might die tomorrow.

It’s about having a choice in the matter.

---

(He’s pretty sure that loophole Nate pulled with Latimer and Dubenich shouldn’t give any of them a clean slate.

But, then.

They had a choice too.)

---

By the time he’s helping shoo a giddy grifter and her besotted fiance out the door of the brewpub, all Eliot can do is smile at their backs, and roll his eyes at the overexcited hacker and thief he’s left with.

Their both bright in their excitement, all sweet smiles and delighted laughs, and Eliot can’t bring himself to actively ruin their fun.

He catches his reflection in the glass.

Can’t bring himself to ruin his own smile either.

---

A few months later, he takes one last look in the mirror before going to bed.

He recognizes the man staring back at him, with messy hair, a shirt that doesn’t quite fit right - too long in the torso, too thin in the shoulders, with a graphic he doesn’t quite understand - hands without any bruises, but with a small burn along the outside that’s well on it’s way to being healed - he’s told them not to sneak up on him while he’s cooking. There’s a hairbrush that’s not his resting by the sink, and a towel hanging haphazardly over the shower rod for another moment before it crumples to the floor.

He recognizes the man in the mirror.

And he smiles.

[knox-knocks]

Lovesick

 this is my gift to @andreil-minyasten for the 2019 AFTG Valentine’s Day Exchange! i chose to go with Jeremy taking care of Jean when he gets sick, and it turned out super soft. i hope you like it, i had lots of fun writing this!! :D 

also big thank you to @aftgexchange for hosting this!

read on ao3

“How are you feeling?” Jeremy asked as he peeked his head into the dim room. He stepped in and closed the door behind him, gently so it didn’t creak or slam. He’d been meaning to report that to the RA to get fixed, but right now Jean needed his attention. He was bundled in a nest of blankets on the couch, his head poking out from a tiny hole. Jeremy was glad to see he had least moved from the bedroom to the couch since he’d been gone.

Jean groaned and cracked open his eyes. He barely moved when Jeremy sat down beside him and brushed his sweaty hair from his forehead. He was still burning up with fever, his skin hot under Jeremy’s palm. The Tylenol Jeremy made him take this morning had done next to nothing. He frowned. “Have you eaten anything today?”

Several seconds passed before Jean slowly shook his head no. His pale face glistened with sweat but his cheeks were flushed red. Even though he was wrapped in three blankets at least, tiny little tremors went through Jean’s body as if he still wasn’t warm enough.

Jeremy had made Jean stay in bed when he woke up with the fever this morning, barring him from going to either of his classes or practice. It had been a few months shy of a year since Jean transferred, but Jean still struggled with letting himself relax and heal when he was sick or injured. Jeremy was grateful Jean didn’t put up as much of a fight as when he rolled his ankle three months ago, Jeremy almost had to babysit Jean to make sure he stayed off his bad foot then.

“I’m going to make you some soup,” Jeremy decided. He brushed Jean’s hair back one more time and tucked the dark strands behind his ears. Then he placed a careful kiss on Jean’s forehead before he gingerly lifted himself up from the couch, mindful not to disturb Jean’s blanket cocoon.

“You don’t have to do that, Jeremy,” Jean rasped when Jeremy got up. His voice was muffled behind the blankets and nasally from congestion. It made his accent even more pronounced.

“I want to,” Jeremy said. Jean frowned, like he still couldn’t fathom someone wanting to take care of him. Jeremy tilted his head until he was level with Jean’s horizontal form. “I like taking care of you.”

“I’m ruining Valentine’s Day.”

Jeremy straightened. He rubbed at his neck from the ache that started to form from the awkward position. “You’re not ruining Valentine’s Day, Jean.”

Jean just gave him a baleful stare.

“I’m going to go make your soup, and then I’ll be right back,” Jeremy said.

It was true that Jeremy had been planning this date with Jean for weeks, and it was true that he wanted to take Jean to a nice restaurant tomorrow night, but it wasn’t Jean’s fault that he contracted the flu on the thirteenth of February. Jeremy grimaced to himself. Lucky number thirteen.

It was actually kind of Jeremy’s fault Jean was sick. A week before, it had rained for the first time in months and most classes on campus were cancelled. Jeremy convinced Jean to come out with him, Laila, and Sara to run around in the rain. They stayed out for nearly an hour, romping around in the downpour, soaking their clothes, kicking rain puddles at each other. It was likely that that was what got Jean sick.

Jeremy didn’t regret it, though. Not only because Jean looked beautiful in the rain, but also because Jean had smiled more than Jeremy had ever seen him smile at one time before. After they went inside and switched their wet clothes out for warm pajamas, Jean and Jeremy wrapped themselves in a giant blanket and drank hot coco as they watched the storm lull into a slow drizzle. Later that night, Jean had confessed that he liked how the raindrops felt on his skin, and he liked the freedom of being outside and being allowed to just exist.

It was worth it. And Jeremy didn’t want Jean to feel bad for that.

Jeremy turned off the stove once the soup was properly warmed up and poured the chicken noodle in a bowl. He wished he could make it homemade, like his mom did for him, but whenever he tried it the noodles didn’t turn out, and the broth wasn’t as good. Still, soup was good for the soul and even better for a sick stomach, even if it was just out of a can.

The living room was quiet when Jeremy delivered the soup. At first he thought Jean had fallen asleep again, but when Jeremy placed the bowl of warm chicken noodle on the coffee table in front of Jean, gray eyes peeled open. Jeremy helped Jean into a sitting position before he handed him the spoon.

Jean gave the broth a tentative sip before he blew on it to cool it down. When he took his first bite, he grimaced and set the spoon in the bowl. “I don’t think I’m hungry,” he said.

Whenever Jeremy had the flu, he didn’t feel like eating anything, either. But he always felt better when he did. “I’ll bake pie if you eat at least half,” Jeremy said, deciding gentle bribery was the way to go.

“Apple?”

“Apple.”

It wasn’t long until Jean ate every spoonful of soup. Jeremy was sure that it was mostly because he was genuinely hungry, but the promise of Jean’s favorite pie couldn’t have harmed anything. Jeremy took the bowl from Jean’s hands when he was done and placed it in the sink in the kitchen. The clock on his watch said it was a quarter ‘til two.

“Maybe I should skip afternoon practice today,” Jeremy murmured. “Are you feeling better?”

“I still feel like shit,” Jean said. “But you should go to practice. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Okay,” Jeremy said and bent down to kiss Jean on his cheek.

“If you keep kissing me, you’ll get sick too,” Jean said, but he still tilted his head to receive the kiss.

“Solidarity.” Jeremy peppered Jean’s face with a few more quick kisses.

Nobody asked where Jean was when Jeremy arrived to the court alone since Jeremy had already explained why Jean was absent at morning practice. He did, however, receive several requests from the Trojans and from Rheman and the other coaches to wish Jean to get better. Jeremy smiled and promised he would. 

When Jeremy got back to the dorm after practice, Jean was already fast asleep on the couch. Jeremy felt his forehead and was pleased to find that the fever had seemed to ease somewhat.

“Are you back already?” Jean slurred, stirring from his sleep. “Practice didn’t end early.”

“No,” Jeremy confirmed. “Do you want to stay on the couch or do you want help moving to the bedroom?”

“Bedroom. I’m getting a kink in my neck from the couch.”

Jean squirmed until he was able to untangled himself from the blankets enough for Jeremy to get an arm supported around Jean’s shoulders. Jean was still weak and unsteady on his feet, but he could mostly walk on his own, even if he leaned heavily on Jeremy. Jean, usually cool, radiated heat, but his skin was clammy to the touch.

In the bedroom, Jeremy didn’t bother turning on the lights lest it gave Jean a headache. Instead, he carefully changed Jean’s sweaty clothes for fresh ones and helped get under the sheets of his bed.

“Do you want me to stay or go?” Jeremy asked as he tucked the blankets around Jean. It was still too early to sleep for the night, but Jeremy figured it couldn’t hurt to take a little nap.

“Stay,” Jean mumbled, already losing the battle with consciousness. “You’re very warm.”

Jeremy quickly changed into sweats and a tank top and brushed his teeth before he climbed into bed next to Jean. He was content to trace the lines of Jean’s face, taking a rare moment to look without being observed as well; Jean’s sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, his slightly crooked nose and the faint scar on his forehead and the deeper ones by his mouth and cheeks. Jean’s hand was tucked under his cheek, hiding the little black three tattooed there. In sleep, Jean’s face always smoothed out, making him look the most peaceful Jeremy had ever seen him.

But Jean’s brow wrinkled as he blinked open his eyes. Jeremy gave a sheepish smile when he was caught staring, but Jean didn’t seem to mind.

“Can you hold me?” Jean asked quietly, almost timidly.

It was often that Jean asked to be held, especially while he slept, but in those rare moments where Jeremy pulled him close and held him tight, Jean always relaxed, melting against him. Those moments were becoming more common lately, and Jeremy could only hope for a future with Jean Moreau in his arms all the time.

“Yes,” Jeremy replied and shifted so he could wrap his arms around Jean’s taller body. Jean twisted so his back was flush with Jeremy’s chest and brought Jeremy’s hand around to rest against his fast-beating heart. Jeremy smiled when Jean brushed soft kisses across his knuckles and fell asleep.

The next morning, Jeremy woke up on his back with Jean’s arm thrown over his waist. Jean was still asleep, snoring a whistling tune with each exhale of soft breath. The fever seemed to have gone down during the night, and Jean’s face wasn’t so flushed and sweaty.

It would be another ten minutes until Jean woke. Jeremy didn’t want to disturb him so he stayed where he was. Morning coffee could wait another couple of minutes, Jeremy didn’t mind. When Jean’s eyes cracked open, Jeremy could see the bright traces of fever gone, replaced with the healthier glow of Jean’s gray eyes, somehow warm despite the lack of color. Although Jean still shivered when the blankets shifted over top of them.

“Good morning,” Jeremy said. Jean hummed and blinked slowly.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Jean mumbled.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Jeremy replied, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

“I am sorry I got sick,” Jean said.

“It’s not your fault. We can just stay home and watch movies. We don’t have to go out anywhere.”

“You were planning that date for so long.” Jean frowned. “It was expensive, Jeremy.”

“And I’m sure Laila and Sara will have a lovely time at the restaurant,” Jeremy said, tucking a strand of Jean’s hair behind his ear. It had grown past his ears enough to make Jean gripe about needing a haircut the past couple days, but Jeremy quite liked the length. When Jean didn’t keep it so short, his hair was curly and soft when Jeremy ran his fingers through. “I don’t care about going to a fancy restaurant and eating expensive food. I care about spending time with you. Here, at a candlelit table, or, I don’t know, Canada. What matters is that I’m with you.”

“Canada.” Jean snorted. “I would rather be sick in bed than in Canada.”

Jeremy laughed. “I didn’t know the French had such a grudge against Canadians.”

“Oh no, it is just me,” Jean said. Jeremy could see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. The sight made warmth bubble over in his chest.

“Hey, I got you something,” Jeremy said. Jean frowned and tilted his head in question reminding Jeremy of an adorable puppy. The warmth in his chest was practically overwhelming. “I was going to wait until later tonight, but…I didn’t want to. Hold on, I’ll go get it.”

Jeremy carefully extracted himself from Jean’s side and slipped out of the bed. The chocolate strawberries Jeremy had ordered arrived yesterday afternoon so he’d been keeping them in the fridge. Luckily, he didn’t have to worry about Jean finding them since he was stuck on the couch all of yesterday.

He pulled the strawberries out of the fridge and set them on the counter. Then he grabbed a plate and arranged the strawberries into a heart in the center. When he brought them back to the bedroom, Jean was already out of bed. Jeremy could hear the sound of the sink cutting on and off in the bathroom as Jean brushed his teeth.

Jean left the bathroom and stopped when he saw Jeremy sitting cross-legged on the bed with the plate of chocolate strawberries on his lap. The corners of his eyes crinkled.

“You are so cheesy,” Jean said and lowered himself onto the bed. He stretched out on his side by Jeremy and supported his head with one hand while the other wrapped loosely around Jeremy’s calf.

“Yeah,” Jeremy agreed easily and picked up a strawberry. He leaned over and raised it in offering. Jean’s eyes never left Jeremy’s while he ate the chocolate-covered strawberry in two excruciatingly slow bites. There was a bit of chocolate on the corner of Jean’s mouth that Jeremy wiped his thumb. Jean’s eyes followed the path of Jeremy’s thumb to his mouth as his tongue darted out to lick the chocolate off.

Jean ate two more chocolate strawberries before he suddenly sat up. “I have something for you, too,” he said. Jean leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed something from underneath. Jeremy tried to get a glimpse at what it was, but Jean kept it hidden.

“This is cheesy, too,” Jean said and turned around. In his arms was a stuffed dog with floppy ears and a red heart stitched to its paws. Jeremy grinned.

“Jean Moreau, did you really get me a stuffed animal for Valentine’s Day?” Jeremy teased. Jean’s cheeks grew red, and it had nothing to do with the lingering sickness.

“If you don’t want it, I can take it back. But I’m keeping the strawberries,” Jean said.  

Jeremy took the stuffed dog. It was soft, and very plush. He hugged it close to his chest. “I love it, Jean. Thank you.”

Jeremy eyed the dog, then looked at Jean. “Hey, wait a minute…It kind of looks like you, too.”

“It does not,” Jean grumbled.

“It does! Look,” Jeremy held up the dog and squinted as he pretended to consider the similarities between the stuffed animal and his boyfriend. “The likeness is incredible.”

Jean scowled, a distinct contrast from the dog’s stitched-on smile. Jeremy hummed in thought and reached over to poke at the corner of Jean’s lips. “Maybe this is a little different,” he said.

Jean promptly lost the battle and laughed. “You are ridiculous, Knox. Ridiculous.”

“You still love me,” Jeremy said, laughing. Jean’s eyes softened.

“I do,” he said. Jeremy’s heart melted, and in that moment, he couldn’t help but pull Jean in for a slow kiss. Jeremy wound his hands in Jean’s shirt and pulled him closer. The taste of chocolate lingering on Jean’s tongue drove Jeremy absolutely crazy as he chased it with his own mouth. The kiss was sweeter still than the chocolate, and it was several minutes before Jean pulled away.

“I still might get you sick,” Jean mumbled against Jeremy’s lips.

Jeremy smiled. “Solidarity,” he said and kissed him again.

[jlnmoreau-blog]

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Julien Benjamin Moreau. PRONUNCIATION: JOO-lee-ən maw-roh. NICKNAME(S): Jules, but only by his family and very close friends. BIRTH DATE: May 3rd, 1997. AGE: Twenty-one. ZODIAC: Taurus. GENDER: Cis male. PRONOUNS: He/him. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual. NATIONALITY: French-Canadian. MAJOR: Political Science. EXTRACURRICULARS: Rugby Team, Young Ambassadors.  

BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Ottawa, Canada. FATHER: Jean Moreau Jr. MOTHER: Diana Moreau. SIBLING(S): Anaís Moreau (seventeen). OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: Almost every single male on his father’s side of the family has been involved in politics in one way or another. (More importantly, though, is his grandmother on his mom’s side. Her recipes are absolutely killer.) ARRESTS?: As your local Good Boy….. there is no way.

OCCUPATION & INCOME

SPENDING HABITS: For someone from moderate wealth, he genuinely doesn’t spend too lavishly. At least, everything he owns that is ludicrously expensive serves some sort of practical function in his life. He isn’t the type to buy a 10k watch, or blow heaps of money on a gigantic party. He would rather spend on travel, or like… multiple pricey parkas. MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: Price wise, he owns a form-fitting Gucci ensemble that he has worn to quite a few of his mother’s charity events. Sentimentality wise, his father gave him a well-worn brass ring before Julien graduated high school. It’s practically worthless by today’s standards, but it had been passed down through generations of Moreau men.

SKILLS & ABILITIES

TALENTS: He’s sociable and polite, and has an ease with making and maintaining friendships. He is athletically and academically inclined (though it’d be a stretch to say he is stellar at either; he’s simply above average.) He can also bake; one of the talents he is truly proud of, as it stems entirely from his mother’s influence. SHORTCOMINGS: He is incredibly naive and super intent to please, which is obviously Not Good. There’s also the fact that he is very image conscious, which stems from this intent to please - he has avoided things and people he likes due to the need he feels to ‘protect’ his family’s name. He’s also really prone to becoming overwhelmed and brimming over with pent up Stress and Feelings. He’s also a smart dumbass - zero common sense half the time, despite being academically rather bright. LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: He is fluent in English & French, and also speaks a semi-decent bit of Malay for his grandmother’s sake. DRIVE?: He can, technically, but as his family had a driver, there was no upkeep, so he’s essentially back to square one with that. RIDE A BICYCLE?: Yes, though he was truly terrified to learn. SWIM?: Yes. PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: No. He really wishes he had musical talent aside fromoccasionally being able to hit a note, but he definitely does not. 100% the kid who was stuck playing the triangle. PLAY CHESS?: Yes, albeit not very well. TIE A TIE?: Yes, though also not very well.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: Émile Woon. GLASSES/CONTACTS?: He has reading glasses, but he wears them around sometimes for the #aesthetic. DOMINANT HAND: Right. HEIGHT: 6′1. TATTOOS: N/A. PIERCINGS: N/A. MARKS/SCARS: He has scattered scars on his legs from early days spent in the Scouts, as well as rather rough incidents on the rugby field. More prominent, though, is the scar located near his hipbone, from when his appendix was removed. NOTABLE FEATURES: A smattering of dusty freckles cover his entire body, and are likely one of the first things people notice about him, save for maybe the giant dimple in his chin. CLOTHING STYLE: Classy but comfortable; cozy turtlenecks, tweed jackets, and crisp button-ups with shined shoes, but rarely anything too wild. Most of his looks are bred out of him being almost constantly cold as hell, and needing one too many layers to function properly.

PSYCHOLOGY

MBTI TYPE: ESFJ. MORAL ALIGNMENT: Lawful Neutral. TEMPERAMENT: Phlegmatic. MENTAL HEALTH: A lifetime of repressing negative emotion has brewed quite a bizarre landscape in his head - he struggles with mild depression, though he is truly none the wiser of this fact. ADDICTION(S): Caffeine & cigarettes. DRUG USE: Only in social settings, and never anything more than weed. ALCOHOL USE: Typically only in social settings, though he does enjoy a solo bottle glass of expensive wine at the bar every once in awhile. PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: No. He is prone to occasional fits of blowout anger when he has simply boiled over, but he would never escalate anything to violence.

FAVORITES

ANIMAL: Dogs. BOOK: The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. COLOR: Moss green, cinnamon brown. FOOD: Any and all sweets, though particularly pies. (Even more particularly, berry pies.) MOVIE: Moulin Rouge, though if asked, he is more likely to claim Casablanca. MUSICAL ARTIST: Fleet Foxes. SCENT: Fresh brewed coffee, spiced apples, and expensive cologne.   SPORT: Hockey. (Too predictable?) VACATION DESTINATION: Selangor, as he has lots of extended family there.  

ATTITUDES

GREATEST FEAR: Letting those he loves down/being a disappointment. It’s why he allows his life to be so easily manipulated and controlled by others - he’d rather risk his own joy than let people down. GREATEST DREAM: To find contentment and happiness. We love irony! BIGGEST SECRET: His pains, his insecurities, the genuine negative emotions that are clouding his mind. He’d really rather die than fully embrace the scope of his Bad Feelings. TOP PRIORITIES: To just… get through the year without any problems. Floatin’ on by like a gentle breeze.