#jolis yeux

[soeurdelune]

avatars (400 x 640): enzo vogrincic, signés lune/soeurdelune

faceclaim proposé pour un scénario que j'attend fort impatiemment sur concrete jungle (clique pour la lecture) 👀

[post-scriptum]

Bon j'ai changé de photo de profil en fait parce que je n'avais pas retouché la photo du lézard et j'avais l'impression qu'elle rendait mal en miniature, pas assez de contraste.... Et j'adore ��galement les grenouilles donc je ne perds pas au change ! Si les dragons existaient, j'aime à penser qu'ils auraient des yeux brillants et remplis de paillettes dorées comme les grenouilles :)

[jo-com]

can you write a story about how Alex, Charles and reader meet. Maybe she’s friends with someone in their friend group and when a,c and reader meet, a+c almost have love at first sight

🫶🏻🫶🏻

🎀 ⊹˚. ♡ ➛ Whipped

Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader x Alexandra Saint Mleux

Summary: Based off the request above!!

Genre: Throuple, Fluff

Note: Thanks for requesting and sorry if i only made it now😭 there are some grammatical errors here.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ˙✧˖°📷 ⋆｡˚─ ───────

The loud clink of utensils echoed around the group that mixed well with the faint sounds of people conversing with one another.

Laughter and playful banters were exchanged from the table of friends— one of them telling a joke that caused them to smile from ear to ear.

It was one of those nights where friends gather and boost about the things that happened to them; it was like their very own ritual to catch up every once in a while, but this time it was different.

There was another addition to the group.

….

“Ah, look whose here. Come y/n take a sit,” one of the girl asked, patting the empty seat besides her.

Y/n happily took the seat and smiled thankfully at her kind gesture. You were kinda nervous, seeing that you don’t know who half the table were, but it was nice to have new friends.

So you took the time to get to know each and every one of them.

While you we’re having a conversation with one girl at the group— two pair of eyes seemed to never left yours.

As if you were the only thing that seem to caught their attention; not even caring if one of their friends are trying to start a discussion with them.

Everything about you were just too mesmerizing— your eyes, your smile, and those laughs that sounds so angelic when it comes out of that pretty mouth of yours.

“Elle est si jolie (she is so pretty)” Alex whispered under her breath, that was loud enough for only she and Charles could hear.

“Je sais, je ne peux pas non plus la quitter des yeux (i know, I can’t take my eyes of her too)” Charles responded, his tone just screams ‘boy inlove’.

Don’t get me wrong, they’re happy with just the two of them, but you just make it so hard to not fall in love with you. I mean come on just look at you! You were built to perfection. God Is this what they call love at first sight?

If it were, then damn. They sure are whipped for you.

…

➛Message (Alex and Charles)

…

“Charles and Alex, you guys have been awfully quite for a while now” Bea exclaimed aloud, earning all the group’s attention to focus on them.

Including yours.

You flickered your eyes and glanced over at them. You’ve noticed their presence for a while now and just like the others you were star struck with their appearance. They were the epitome of luxury and elegance— they give of an aura that just seems so hard to approach them;

“Ah, sorry. Something just came up” charles spoke, his tone laced with sincerity.

As he said those word, his eyes met yours. It felt like he was directly saying it to you. But that’s just silly, imagine the Charles Leclerc saying those to you. Pfft hilarious.

“Oui, quelque chose de beau vient d'attirer notre attention (yes,something beautiful just caught our eye)” Alex spoke, her thick accent dripped with gracefulness.

Just like Charles, her words seems directed towards you. Her eyes latched onto yours— captivating the essence of your beauty.

You looked around, checking if she was looking at anyone else. To your surprise, there were no people at your back. You glanced back but she was no longer staring at you.

Hmm must be a coincidence.

…

Throughout the night, their eyes stared daggers at your direction— watching you like a hawk.

You could feel the burning gazes that came from them but just shrugged it off as a ‘must be someone at my back’ feeling.

…

“This was so much fun guys, i hope we could do this again soon”. One of your friends spat, smiling genuinely at all of you.

The night has finally come to an end; even though you felt all eyes on you every time, you still had fun.

All of your friends gathered their stuff and one by one began to leave the place. Saying all their goodbyes before finally taking off. Just as you were about too, two figure stood in your way.

You furrowed your eyebrows, confusingly. What’s going on?

“Uhm can i help you guys?” You asked, looking at them with pure curiosity.

Alex opened her mouth but then closed it again, she gently nudged Charles shoulder implying for him to speak up.

What the hell was going on, they look like high schoolers whose ready to confess.

Charles rolled his eyes and sighed,“Well, this is kinda awkward but me and my girlfriend were kinda hoping to get your number.”

Oh. So it was a confession kinda thing?

Your eyes widened from the sudden question, “but if you don’t want to it’s fine” Alex chimed in, her face turning red from the tense atmosphere.

You let out a giggle, seeing how their acting like teenagers inlove was just so adorable to you. So why not invest your time in these two cutesy couple.

“Here” you said, getting out your phone and showing them your number to which they wrote down.

…

After that day you guys continued messaging each other back and forth— creating a strong bond between the couple.

And eventually you guys were officially a couple, all three of you.

You were glad you came to that gathering.

…

Sorry for not updating in a while, hope you guys like this tough!!

[lisaalmeida]

Je ne finirai pas comme un crétin dans un hôtel, avec une fille de 22 ans qui m'emmerde parce qu'elle a envie de sortir" ; "J'adore les femmes qui ont de l'expérience, quand leur histoire s'inscrit sur leur corps, j'adore les femmes qui ont des complexes, parce que j'aime la pudeur " ; "Toutes les femmes avec qui j'ai vécu sont les plus belles femmes du Monde.... Vous vous souvenez de cette réplique de G. Depardieu à M. Blanc dans "Tenue de soirée" de Bertrand Blier?: "Regarde-toi dans mes yeux, tu vas te trouver sublime" c'est ça l'amour, cela n'a rien à voir avec les canons. Les hommes sont tellement fatigués de sexualité qu'ils ne voient pas quand l'amour tape à la porte. La perfection, quel ennui!! .... C'est Proust qui disait: « Laissons les jolies femmes aux hommes sans imagination »

Benoît Poelvoorde .

[nietzsche813]

La liberté ou la mort, extrait

Robespierre jouait à lancer des branches à Brount avec Elisabeth, à quelques distances devant eux. Il courrait pour entraîner le molosse derrière lui, et jetait le bâton de toutes ses forces, ne se souciant pas de voir s'il risquait de tacher ses bas blancs de boue. Brount partait comme un fou avec ses grandes pattes désordonnées, la langue pendant sur le côté et la queue frétillante. Quand il revenait avec le morceau de bois, Elisabeth et Maximilien devaient s'escrimer à le lui récupérer et tiraient de toutes leurs forces pour le lui arracher de la gueule. Le jeu recommençait ensuite, pour la plus grande joie des trois participants.

Saint-Just marchait les bras croisés dans le dos, au rythme d'Eléonore.

-Eléonore, maintenant que nous sommes bons amis, puis-je me permettre une question?

La jeune fille lui sourit d'un air indulgent.

- Voyons la question.

Saint-Just se racla la gorge et fixa son regard sur la pointe de ses bottes.

- Eh bien... je ne comprends pas que tu ne sois pas amoureuse de lui.

Eléonore laissa échapper un petit rire. Elle ne paraissait pas particulièrement vexée ou embarrassée par cette question indiscrète.

-Et pourquoi cela ? demanda-t-elle.

Saint-Just redressa la tête et fit un geste de la main vague vers Brount qui s'était mis à aboyer joyeusement, et Elisabeth qui faisait semblant de jeter le bâton pour la troisième fois.

- Je ne sais pas, regarde le... Tout à l'heure il faisait un travail de géant pour la patrie, et maintenant il se contente d'une récompense si simple ! Jouer avec son chien, nourrir ses oiseaux, manger le potage de ta mère ce soir, lire quelques pages de Rousseau au coin du feu...

-... quelques oranges, une visite de son cher Saint-Just...

- Si nous parvenons à installer et à protéger notre république, il ne cherchera aucune récompense pour lui même. Il ne faudra pas davantage que ces quelques plaisirs que nous avons évoqués pour faire son bonheur. Quand on en vient à le connaitre, il est si doux, si sincère. Parfois, cela me noue le coeur quand j'y pense.

- Certainement, approuva Eléonore en venant prendre le bras d'Antoine, et c'est pour cela que mes parents le considèrent comme leur fils et moi comme mon frère. Le sang ne me le rendrait pas plus cher.

- Un frère, oui...Mais imagine le comme époux, ne serait-ce pas mieux encore ? La voix de Saint-Just s'était réduite à un murmure rêveur. Il est si loyal, si dévoué. Non vraiment, tu ne trouveras pas mieux que lui.

-Pour ce qui est du physique... commença Eléonore

- Du physique ! répéta-t-il, le cri qu'il ne réussit par à réprimer attirant un instant l'attention de Brount vers lui. Comment peux tu parler du physique face à une telle âme ! Et puis de toute façon la physionomie de Maximilien n'a rien de désagréable, regarde, il est petit certes, mais il a les mollets bien fait, une mine intelligente, des yeux verts, un joli nez...

- Tu ne trouves pas qu'il a un style un peu démodé?

- Maximilien s'en fiche des fariboles de la mode! Il prends soin de ses vêtement et il est toujours bien mis. On ne peut pas en dire autant des trois quarts des députés qui siègent à la Convention avec les cheveux gras et les bottes crottées. Son style est très respectable.

Eléonore se mit à rire de bon coeur devant l'air révolté de Saint-Just.

-Antoine... Si moi je ne suis pas amoureuse de lui, rien ne t'empêche de l'être, toi.

[sequinsmile-x]

Growing Pains

Having teenagers, as it turned out, was the most trying part of parenthood so far, and there were times when she almost considered apologising to her mother. 

Almost. 

AKA - a story about Aaron, Emily, and their teenage daughter who is determined to push boundaries.

Part 1/2

-x-

Hi besties,

Sorry for the slight delay on this - I've got a horrible cold and this fic kept getting bigger and bigger (shocking I know) but here we are!!

This is inspired by an ask I got from anon (who I hope enjoys this fic) asking how I think our favs would deal with a rebellious teenager. Because of who I am as a person, this has become a two parter.

Please let me know what you think, and part 2 will be up within the next few days!

-x-

Words: 6.8K (it really got away from me)

Warnings: brief references to past abortion, brief mentions of underage drinking

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Ferme tes jolis yeux

Car les heures sont brèves

Au pays merveilleux

Au doux pays des rêves.”

Emily sings quietly as she paces back and forth, holding her little girl against her chest. She suppresses a yawn and rubs a soothing circle on Lucy’s back, tilting her head to look down at her baby. Lucy was finally asleep, the 2-day-old’s cheek squished against her chest, and Emily sighs in relief, dropping a kiss to her dark hair and breathing her in, the sweet newborn smell the most addictive thing in the world.

The house is quiet, both Aaron and Jack asleep upstairs in the bed, and dark apart from the lamp she switched on when she came downstairs to the living room. It was peaceful, a bubble they’d built around themselves as they got used to the addition to their family. She couldn’t wait for their friends to meet Lucy, but she wanted this to last as long as possible. For the 2 am feeds and the moments like it to not be her only time with her little girl that was just hers. 

“Let’s sit down, sweet girl,” she says, clenching her jaw to hold back a wince as she sits on the couch, “Mommy is too tired and too sore to walk around anymore.” 

It was Lucy’s first night at home and it felt surreal, strange in some ways that the doctors and nurses had just sent her home with a tiny baby, with a whole new person to look after as if she knew what she was doing. Lucy refused to sleep anywhere but in Emily’s arms, would cry even if Aaron tried to hold her, so Emily knew there was no point in taking her back upstairs and trying to lay her in her bassinet. Even though she was exhausted, more tired than she ever thought possible, she didn’t mind. She knew a day would come when she’d miss this, when she’d look back on the long, seemingly endless, nights when either she or Lucy, or both of them, would cry whilst she tried to nurse her. 

She smiles when she hears footsteps on the hardwood floor, her husband’s familiar footfall loud in the otherwise silent house, despite his obvious attempts to be quiet. 

“Daddy’s coming to see us, baby,” Emily says, kissing Lucy’s hairline again, and she smiles up at him when he walks into the living room, “Hi honey.” 

“There are my girls,” he says, looking as tired as she feels, his hair askew from where he’d been running his fingers through it, and his pyjamas wrinkled from the small amount of sleep he’d had. He walks over and drops a kiss to the top of Emily’s head before he joins her, making sure he’s careful to not jostle either of them as he sits down, “Are you two okay?” 

Emily hums and rests her head on his shoulder, “She wouldn’t settle so I brought her down here to feed her,” she replies, tilting her head to look up at him, “I hope we didn’t wake you up.”

He shakes his head and runs his fingers through her hair before he tucks it behind her ear, “Our bed gets cold without you.” 

She chuckles lightly, “Says the walking furnace.” 

He watches her as she tries to adjust how she’s sitting, her barely covered wince a dagger at his heart. He’d held it together throughout her labour because he knew she needed him to be her strength when she felt hers start to fade, that she needed to lean on him - literally and mentally - but more than once he’d felt himself holding back tears at seeing her in so much pain. He always thought he couldn’t be any more in love with her, any more proud and in awe of her, but she always proved him wrong, always managed to surpass the expectations she herself had set. 

“Want me to take her?” He asks, hiding a smile when she tightens her hold on Lucy as if he was going to take her from her. If he hadn’t been through his before with Haley, if he hadn’t watched the instincts kick in when Jack was a tiny baby and this was all new to him and Haley too, he’d be offended, but he knew they were all adjusting. He knew that Emily was still hesitant to have the baby anywhere other than in her arms, something that their little girl seemed to share with her. 

“No, it’s okay,” she replies, an apology in her smile as she realises what she’s done, “I’m just sore, that’s all,” she looks at Lucy, smiles at the slope of her nose, at the rosebud lips and the dimples they’d already playfully argued over - each claiming she’d inherited them from the other, “She’s worth it though,” she chuckles, the sound wet as it catches in her chest, and she shakes her head at herself, wiping a tear she’d come to expect from her cheek before she puts her hand back on Lucy’s back, “When will I stop crying when I just look at her?” She asks, even though she knows there’s no answer, “She’s perfect. How did I make something so perfect?” 

Aaron wraps his arm around her and kisses her temple before he wipes her tears away for her, “Because you’re perfect, and she’s a mini you.” 

Emily chokes on a sound between a laugh and a sob and she leans in to kiss him, barely pulling back to speak, “You’re pretty perfect too.” 

____

One thing Emily had learnt over the years, was that each era of parenthood had its positives and negatives. 

When the kids were small, when they were tiny little things that needed her for everything, she’d barely had any time to herself, or barely any time for her and Aaron. It made everything feel all the more precious, all the more needed, as she scrambled for 10 minutes in the bath or just an hour of alone time with her husband. But she’d loved it, and missed it when she looked back on it. She missed the night feeds, the snuggles where her babies would sleep curled up on her chest.

She missed being needed. 

When they were toddlers, when their quest for knowledge and need to understand the world around them, she barely had time to think. Their constant questions, the repetition of her name that made her wonder how she’d ever been excited to hear them say it for the first time, and their lack of fear or self-preservation, were exhausting. But watching them grow, watching their personalities develop and their eyes go wide when they experienced something for the first time was incredible, the very thing she’d wanted to see her whole life. 

“Mom!” 

“Emily!” 

She sighs as she sits back in her home office chair, pinching the bridge of her nose as she hears her eldest daughter and her husband call out for her at the same time. 

Having teenagers, as it turned out, was the most trying part of parenthood so far, and there were times when she almost considered apologising to her mother. 

Almost. 

She gets up and walks down the hall to the kitchen, her hands on her hips, “What’s happened now?” 

She looks over at Samuel and Eleanor, the 13-year-old twins drawing her attention with their barely covered laughter and matching smiles. 

“Luce got her nose pierced,” Eleanor says, pressing her lips together as she swallows back a laugh again, always delighting in her older sister’s recent rebellious streak. 

“Dad isn’t happy,” Samuel finishes for her, and Emily looks over at her husband and Lucy, her eyes catching on the, slightly too large for her face, nose ring she can see in her daughter’s nose, the sparkle of it catching in the kitchen light. Aaron is standing next to her, his hands on his hips and his expression exasperated, and she knew she’d have to intervene before things escalated into an argument. 

“Okay you two,” Emily says, turning to look at the twins, “Can you go to the living room please?” she says, raising her eyebrow when neither of them takes the opportunity to leave, “Now.” 

Eleanor huffs out a breath and gets off the stool, “Come on Sammy, that’s Mom-speak for ‘we’re yelling at Lucy and you’re not allowed to watch.’”

“No one is doing any yelling,” Emily says, her eyebrow still raised but her smile soft as they leave the room. 

“I might,” Aaron quips and Emily sighs as she looks over at him. 

“Honey-”

“She had her nose pierced, Em-”

“I am right here you know,” Lucy says, cutting over her father, her arms crossed over her chest in defiance, “And it’s my face.” 

“You’re 16.” 

“Okay,” Emily says, walking over to them with her hands up, “Let’s deal with this one thing at a time,” she turns to look at Lucy first, “Sweetie, you’re right - it’s your face and your choice, but you are our kid,” she raises her eyebrow as Lucy scoffs, not carrying on until Lucy’s shoulders loosen and her eyes flash with an apology, as if she hadn’t meant to make the sound outloud, “And as long as you are a minor and live in this house, you run this kind of thing past us first, okay?” She turns to look at Aaron, their conversation silent for a moment as their eyes meet, her just go with me on this obvious to him, “That sounds reasonable, right?” 

He clears his throat, his arms crossing over his chest as if he has to physically do so to stop his real feelings about their daughter’s nose ring from escaping, “Right,” he says, looking over at Lucy, “But no tattoo’s until you’re 18.” 

Lucy smirks, “Don’t worry, Dad. My fake ID is nowhere near good enough for that.” 

Emily sighs and looks at her daughter, “Not helping,” she says, shaking her head and resting her hand on her shoulder, turning her around to face the door, “Go sit with your brother and sister until dinner, okay?” 

She nods, “No making out in here whilst we’re gone,” she replies, “This is where we eat.” 

As soon as she’s out of earshot, when whatever the twins were watching on TV would drown out the conversation in the kitchen, Emily turns to look at her husband, “Honey, we have to pick our battles.” 

He sighs and his arms tighten over his chest, his grip on his triceps tight enough she’s briefly distracted by the way his muscles ripple under his skin, “I know, sweetheart. I think I was just…shocked. She just walked in with it like it had always been there and I reacted,” he shakes his head at himself, “She’s beautiful just as she is.” 

She rolls her eyes at him, “Of course she is,” she says, “I know that. But she’s just trying to express herself, and if anything I think this says a lot about our parenting skills.” 

He furrows his frows at that and tilts his head, “How?” 

“Do you know how self-assured she must be to get her nose pierced? To draw attention to it?” She shrugs and smiles sadly, “I would have loved to have done it when I was her age, and not just because it would have annoyed my mother, but because I liked it. But I hated my nose, so I did everything I could to distract from it,” she scrunches her nose up and shudders as she thinks about her own teenage years, “Why do you think I dressed like Siouxsie Sioux?”

He’s still frowning at her, but his crossed arms loosen, his eyes curious, “When did you start to like your nose?” 

She smiles shyly, but not because she’s embarrassed. She’d stopped being able to be embarrassed in front of him years ago. He was the person who’d held her hand when she had three of his children. He’d washed vomit from her hair when her morning sickness got the better of her, and he’d helped her on and off from the toilet when she couldn’t bend down after her c-section when having the twins. He was another part of her, the missing half she hadn’t known had been missing until their first kiss. She’s not shy because she’s embarrassed, but because she knows exactly what he’s going to do next, and it somehow makes her love him even more. 

She shrugs one of her shoulders, “The first time I saw it on her face.” 

He pulls her into a hug as if an autopilot, his smile a mix of sadness and adoration as he leans in to kiss the tip of her nose, just like she knew he would. “You’re beautiful.”

She smiles and kisses him, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Thank you,” she replies, kissing him again as he places his hands on her hips, “You’re not bad to look at yourself,” she plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, “She’s just…figuring out who she is, honey. And we have to let her.”

He sighs and leans forward to press his forehead against hers, “You’re right.” 

“I so often am,” she replies, “You’d think after almost 20 years together you’d be used to it.” She leans in to kiss him, her lips barely touching his when she hears a chorus of disgust from the doorway. She smiles as she turns to look at her children, Lucy standing in the middle of Samuel and Eleanor, and she rolls her eyes playfully, “I am allowed to kiss your dad, you know,” she says, shifting so she has her arm around his waist, deciding she was going to have some fun at her children’s expense, “In fact, I’ve done a whole lot more than kiss him-”

“Oh god, Mom.” 

“Emily.” 

___

She yawns and reaches out for the mug on her desk, idly telling herself a second cup of tea would help wake her up. Before she can step away, before she can even stand up, her phone rings, the number for Lucy’s daycare flashing up on the screen. 

“Crap,” she mutters under her breath, worst case scenarios flooding her lungs, her chest cramped so she can’t breathe as she answers, “Hello?” 

“Hi, is this Lucy’s mom?” 

“Yeah, this is her mom. Is everything okay?” She asks, already standing up, the phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder as she shoves everything back into her purse. 

“She’s thrown up a few times in the last hour and now she has a fever.” 

Emily feels her heart clench, her chest hollowed out as she thinks about her baby being sick and her not being there, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

She’s never been more grateful that she finally took up Clyde’s persistent offers of a job. After she got married to Aaron, Clyde finally relented and stopped offering the role in London and started telling her there was a role in DC for her if she wanted it. She took it the moment she and Aaron decided to try for a baby. It was a fresh start she’d needed, a job untouched by what Ian had done to her, by people knowing that she’d died and come back a different person. She no longer walked into a room knowing that colleagues had been talking about her, that they’d been gossiping about things she wished they didn’t know. Now she was the boss, had her own office and the respect of everyone around her. She was good at her job, excellent even, and she loved it. 

She usually loved it, but as she walks into Lucy’s daycare, as her little girl presses her face against her chest the moment she’s handed to her, her skin warm and clammy, Emily hates her job. Hates herself for taking it, for going back to work and leaving her 6-month-old in the care of other people. She smiles and nods as the daycare worker updates her on Lucy’s temperature and the medicine they’d given her, holding her little girl close as she does her best to not burst into tears. 

The moment she gets Lucy home, she sits on the couch with her against her chest, rubbing a circle on her back as she fusses.

“My poor, baby,” she says, resting her cheek against her head, “Mommy is right here.” 

She sings to her, keeps her voice low and soft as she does her best to soothe her to sleep. Lucy has just drifted off when Emily’s phone rings, and she answers it quickly, picking it up from where she’d thrown it on the couch, barely registering Aaron’s name and the picture of him with the kids on the screen. 

“Hi, honey.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he replies, “How is she?”

Emily hums and kisses Lucy’s forehead, grimacing at the warmth of her skin, “She’s got a fever, and she’s very clingy. She just wants to snuggle.” 

“She always wants to snuggle with you,” he replies, and she sucks in a breath, dropping another kiss to Lucy’s head, “Are you okay?” 

She wonders if she should hate that he knows her so well, that he knows something is wrong without her having to say it. She chokes on a sound she can’t name, “I’m feeling like the worst mother in the world right now,” she says, wiping away tears she thinks she should have expected, “My baby was sick and I wasn’t there.” 

“But the moment you were called you were there. You’re the best mom.”

She blows out a breath, “You’re meant to say that, you’re my husband-” she furrows her brow when her phone vibrates, and she pulls it back to see that she is getting a call from Jack’s school, “Oh god, Jack’s school is calling,” she says, “I should take that - he’s probably sick too.”

“Let me know what they say, sweetheart,” he replies, “I’ll go and get him if he needs picking up.” 

“Thanks, honey, you’re the best,” she ends the call with Aaron and answers the call from the school, “Hi, Emily speaking.”

“Hi, is this Jack’s mom?” 

She sighs, unable to suppress a smile as she replies, “Yeah,” she says, kissing Lucy’s head, “This is his mom.”

___

“You were never like this when Jack wanted to bring his first girlfriend over.” 

Emily sighs and pushes her hair out of her face as she blows out a breath so she doesn’t raise her voice, “Luce, Jack didn’t want her to stay overnight when we weren’t here,” she says, and Lucy rolls her eyes, slumping back against the couch, “And we haven’t even met Jacob.” 

Lucy sighs, “That’s because I don’t trust you and Dad to not be embarrassing,” she scrunches her nose up, fighting the smile that breaks out across her face, “Or Nora and Sammy. This is a house of embarrassment. The only person I trust to behave is Jack and he’s in New Haven.” 

Emily smiles, “He is endlessly sensible, isn’t he?” She says, remembering when he was a teenager. She’d almost had to encourage him to misbehave, to push boundaries that he respected. It was part of what had left her and Aaron so unprepared for Lucy’s teenage years. They’d been lulled into a false sense of security by their eldest. 

She saw herself in Lucy. Saw who she could have been if she’d been loved in the way she needed when she was her age, if she’d had the mother she still found herself wishing for even now. Lucy was unashamedly herself, unburdened by expectations that Aaron and Emily had never held her to. All they ever wanted of her, of any of their children, was for them to be kind and to do their best. 

She presses her lips together and studies Lucy, watches as she spins her nose ring around, and she wonders when she grew up, when she stopped being the tiny little thing who was always attached to her side. She loved watching her kids get older, loved watching who they were becoming, but it was hard too. It made her ache, an empty space in her chest that she wasn’t used to making her feel hollowed out, another bit of it carved away each time one of her children pulled a little further away. 

Aaron struggled with it more, Emily knew that. He wanted to keep the kids safe, everything they’d both seen in their jobs lingering in every shadow, and it had made him extra cautious. Emily did her best to be more realistic, to know that they had to let some things slide, but the casual way that Lucy had announced she had a boyfriend was the first time Emily found herself edging more towards her husband’s point of view. She so desperately wanted to protect Lucy, to make sure she didn’t go through what she went through, to save her little girl from the weight of what had happened when she was even younger than she was. 

“Now you have a boyfriend,” she says, trying to stay casual, “I just want to make sure that you know I’m here if you have any questions about sex-”

“Mom,” Lucy exclaims, looking around as if they weren’t home alone, “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

She sighs, “I know, honey. I’m just saying, “Make sure that when you are ready to take that step, you use protection.” 

Lucy grimaces, scrunching her nose up, the movement drawing attention to her nose ring, “God, Mom.” 

“I mean it, Luce. You need to be careful, okay? I’m not under any illusion that you won’t have sex at some point, but you need to promise me you’ll make Jacob use a condom. And I’ll take you to the doctor to get the pill if you need me to,” she swallows thickly, pushing down all the emotions that are rising up her throat, “But you need to be careful.” 

Lucy groans, “Okay, jeez,” she says, her eyebrow raised in challenge, a look on her face that Aaron always said was all her, “Do you and Dad use protection?” 

Emily chuckles, the ghost of who she was as a teenager finally disappearing, her grip on her throat loosening, “No, baby. Your dad and I haven’t had sex with anyone other than each other in almost 20 years, and at this point, your dad has as much of a chance of getting pregnant as I do.” 

“Mom, I’m not going to get pregnant.” 

Later, she’ll wonder why she says it. Whether it’s the absolute confidence in her daughter’s voice that she’d once felt herself, or maybe it’s because a small part of her wants her to know, wants her to understand, that her actions have consequences. That choices she made now could have lifelong repercussions. 

“I did.” 

Lucy finally looks up at her, her eyebrows furrowed in a way that makes her look like Aaron as their eyes meet, “What?” 

Emily nods, and she presses her lips together, taking a moment to clear her throat, “Yeah. I was a little younger than you.” 

“I…” Lucy trails off, any previous attempt at impertinence gone in an instant, “I’m sorry that happened to you.” 

Emily reaches out and runs her fingers through Lucy’s hair, grateful that for once she doesn’t flinch away. If anything, she leans into the touch, shifting closer to Emily for the first time in a long time, “It’s okay, baby. It was a long time ago now.” 

“And you…didn’t have a baby?” 

Emily shakes her head, “No, sweetheart. I didn’t.” 

“Does Grandma know?” Lucy asks, and Emily chokes on a humourless laugh, triggering the same sound to escape Lucy too, “Sorry, stupid question. She probably would have locked you in a convent somewhere.” 

She laughs, for real this time, and she nods, because it was sadly true, “I didn’t really tell anyone, just a friend who helped me. And now only your dad knows,” she runs her fingers through her hair again, “And you.” 

Lucy leans against her, wrapping both of her arms around one of hers and resting her head on her shoulder, “I won’t tell anyone.” 

Emily kisses the top of her head, “I know you won’t,” she says, pulling back to look down at Lucy, “I know it’s embarrassing to talk about with your mom, but I hope you know that it’s just because I don’t want you going through what I did.”

Lucy nods against her, “I’ll be careful…when the time comes,” she says, her cheeks bright red, “I promise,” she encourages Emily to wrap her arm around her and snuggles into her side, “I’m glad you’re my mom.” 

Her eyebrows knit together curiously, “Really? Why’s that?” 

Lucy pulls away just enough to look at her, “Because no matter what, I know I can come to you about anything.” 

It takes everything in Emily to not burst into tears, and she pulls Lucy closer, hugging her fiercely in a way it felt like she hadn’t in years, “I love you, Luce.” 

“I love you too, Mom.” 

___

“Mom, can I push Lucy on the swing?”

Emily chuckles at Jack’s excitement and she adjusts her hold on Lucy, making sure she’s comfortably sitting in her lap.

“Yes, sweetie, once we’ve eaten our lunch,” she says, and he smiles widely, making a point of eating his sandwich quickly, “Slow down, Jack. The swings will still be there when we’re done,” she looks at her watch, “And Daddy will be here soon.”

Aaron had been called into work, torn out of their quiet morning as a family by paperwork that supposedly couldn’t wait until Monday. He told her to go ahead with taking the kids to the park, to having the picnic he’d prepared the night before, Tupperware full of sandwiches he’d made and put in the fridge for them, and that he’d meet them as soon as he could. He’d sent her a text half an hour ago saying he was on the way and she was looking forward to seeing him, wondering when she’d become someone who missed a person after only being apart for a few hours. 

“Dada!” 

Emily smiles at the sound of Lucy’s sweet voice, and she kisses her cheek, tugging gently on one of her pigtails that stuck straight up in the air, “That’s right, baby - Dada will be there soon.” 

Lucy had only started speaking a few weeks ago - babbling nonsense that had given way to Mama, Dada and a sound they know means Jack - and it was unlike anything Emily had ever experienced. Hearing her little girl say Mama for the first time was a memory she knew would always be one of her favourites, right up there with the first time Jack had casually called her Mom instead of Emily. She knew Aaron felt the same way about the first time he’d heard Lucy call him Dada. He’d missed the first time she’d ever said it. He’d been away on a case, had been on the other side of the country when Lucy pointed at a picture of him and said it, stopping both Emily and Jack in their tracks as they looked at her, matching expressions of shock and happiness on their faces. Emily had been tempted to not tell Aaron, to let it happen organically when he came home so he thought that the first time he heard Lucy say it was the first time she’d ever said it, but Jack had beat her to it before she’d had a chance to truly think about keeping a secret from her husband. The little boy’s smile wide as he announced that Lucy had said Dada, his excitement drowning out any disappointment Aaron had been unable to keep from his wife. 

Lucy lets go of the toy she’d been holding, a ball with Olaf the snowman on it, and it rolls away from them. Lucy grunts, and before Emily can even attempt to get it, Jack is on his feet. 

“I’ll get it, Mom.” 

“Thanks, baby,” she replies, smiling as he picks it up and hands it to Lucy, “You’re such a good big brother.

“‘Ack,” Lucy says, taking the ball from him, smiling widely at her brother. Then she looks past him, seeing Aaron before Emily and Jack do, and she stands up, her hands grabbing fists of grass as she pushes herself onto her feet, “Dada!”

Emily looks in the direction she’s pointing, her hand reaching out to steady her, but she’s met with nothing but air. She frowns when she sees Lucy several feet away from where she’d been expecting her, her arms stretched outwards as she walks towards Aaron.

“Oh my God,” Emily says, standing up quicker than she thought her knees would allow, “Oh my God she’s-.” 

“Mom,” Jack cuts over her, his eyes wide, “Lucy's walking.” 

Emily scrambles for her phone, digs it out of her pocket and turns on the camera to start recording. She captures the moment Aaron kneels down just a few paces away from Lucy, his smile wide, the dimples in his cheeks visible from where she was standing, as he encourages their little girl to walk the last few steps. She all but falls against him, her tiny hands against his knees as she collapses into him, and Aaron scoops her up, stamping kisses against her cheeks as he settles her on his hip, drawing out giggles that make Emily’s heart soar. She stops recording and tucks her phone into her pocket as she runs over, her hand around Jack’s as they meet in the middle, her other hand on Lucy’s back as she kisses her temple. 

Lucy smiles at the affection, her grass-stained thumb in her mouth before Emily tugs it out, delighted at the attention she’s getting even if she doesn’t understand it. 

“Whose my clever little girl?” Emily says, kissing her temple again, “Did you walk to Daddy?” She says, tickling her belly to draw out another giggle, Aaron chokes on a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and his eyes are shining when Emily looks at him. She cups his cheek and draws him in for a quick kiss, “We’re going to have to baby-proof the shit out of the house now.” 

He laughs and kisses her, “I’ll start the moment we get home,” he kisses her again before he reaches for her hand and squeezes, looking down at Jack as they start to head back towards their abandoned picnic, “I think we should get ice cream to celebrate, what do you think, Jack?” 

Jack’s excited nod is the only answer they need. 

___

She can hear raised voices before she opens the front door. She sighs and puts her key in the lock, taking a deep breath before she pushes it open. As she steps into the house, Lucy’s yelling is no longer muffled, and Emily dumps her purse just inside the door so she can seek them out, her hopes of a quiet Friday night with her family dashed before they even know she’s home. 

She finds them in the kitchen, dinner half prepared on the counter, and neither one of them seems to have heard her walk in. 

“You’re not going to the party, and that’s final.” 

Emily shakes her head, almost admiring her daughter’s attempt to divide and conquer. She’d asked her about the party that morning as they got ready for the day, dutifully dodging questions about whether there was going to be any parental supervision or not, and Emily had told her no. She’d been to those parties herself, hadn’t had a parent who cared enough to be around to say no, and she didn’t want Lucy to go. She did her best to be an understanding parent, to let her kids push boundaries and figure out who they are, but this was a hard line for her. 

She’d seen far too many girls Lucy’s age hurt, or worse, in situations just like this. 

Lucy scoffs, “But everyone else is going!” 

Aaron sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, and Emily can see that his patience is fraying, the threads of it pull to their limit as he stays calm in the wake of the teenager’s anger, “I don’t care if everyone else is going, you’re not.” 

Lucy grumbles, the sound turning into a growl as it catches in her throat, and she throws her arms up in her air, “Dad, you’re being so unreasonable, you’re ruining my life.” 

Emily almost interjects, but Aaron replies again, still as calm as he can be, the weight of his father’s anger heavy on his shoulders.

“Lucy, I just want you to be safe - and this doesn’t sound safe,” he sighs, “I know you think you’ve got it all figured out, but you’re 16, princess. You-”

“Don’t call me princess,” she shouts, crossing her arms over her chest, “I’m not a kid.” 

Aaron’s jaw tightens, but his voice is still even, his expression stern and not one he often used in their home, “You are a kid. You’re my kid. And I am saying no.” 

There’s a moment of silence as Lucy shakes her head, her whole body vibrating with anger she can’t control or fully understand.

“I hate you.” 

Emily watches as Aaron deflates, his shoulders falling back as if he’s taken a physical hit, and she steps into the kitchen, “Don’t speak to your father like that.” 

Lucy and Aaron both look at her as if they’d only just realised she’s there, “But, Mom-”

“No, ‘but Mom’, nothing. You don’t speak to him like that,” she replies, as firm as she ever was with the kids, “And even if I didn’t agree with your dad on this, you absolutely wouldn’t be going now.” 

Lucy scoffs, “Mom-”

“Go to your room,” she says, “I’ll come and talk to you when you’ve calmed down.” 

Lucy looks like she’s going to argue for a moment, but she doesn’t. Instead, she shakes her head and marches past them, throwing one final piece of her anger over her shoulder, one final barb catching in her parent’s skin that Emily knows she’ll regret once she’s calmed down. 

“You’re the worst parents ever.” 

Emily sucks in a breath as she watches Lucy walk away, stamping her feet on each step before she slams her bedroom door. 

“That went well,” Aaron quips, his smile sad as she turns to look at him, and she walks over, wrapping her arms around his waist. He hugs her back immediately, a desperation to it that makes her heart ache. 

“She didn’t mean it, honey,” she says, rubbing a circle on his back, turning her head to kiss his cheek, “You know she loves you.” 

He hums and pulls back, “I know. Doesn’t make it any easier to hear though.” 

“I know,” she replies, pushing her fingers through his hair, smiling at the flecks of grey at his temples, “Is it just me who misses when they were small and thought we were the coolest people ever?”

He chuckles and stamps his lips against hers, “It’s not just you, sweetheart,” he kisses her again and then tugs her against him for a hug, “I’m sorry you came home to an argument.”

“That’s okay,” she replies, kissing his jaw before she pulls back to look at him, “You know you’re an excellent dad, right?” 

He smiles, a bit more of him shining through in it this time, and she knows it’s exactly what he needed to hear, “Thanks, sweetheart. And you’re an excellent mom.” 

“Dad?” 

They turn to see Samuel standing in the doorway, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Everything okay, buddy?” 

“I wondered if you needed help with dinner?” Samuel nods and clears his throat,  and it’s such an obvious attempt to cheer Aaron up after he’d overheard the argument with Lucy, that Emily feels like she could burst. She unwraps herself from around Aaron and pulls Samuel into a hug, stamping a kiss against his head. “God, Mom. Stop.” 

She smiles as she steps away, “You’re sweet.” 

He runs his fingers through his hair to straighten it out, “You’re embarrassing.” 

Emily and Aaron make eye contact over Samuel’s head, and Aaron winks at her before he replies to their son, “If you don’t mind Sammy, I need some help with the vegetables.” 

Samuel nods, muttering under his breath about Sammy being the name for a baby before he walks over to help Aaron. 

Lucy stays in her room all evening. Her irritation with her parents still clear when Emily takes her some dinner and tries to talk to her about their point of view. Eleanor asks Emily to braid her hair for the first time in years, another sign that the twins had both heard Lucy’s outburst earlier, and Emily finds herself in awe of her children’s capacity for empathy. They were good kids, all of them, and she was endlessly proud of them and the people they were becoming.

Even if their stubbornness, which they’d inherited from both her and Aaron, was world record worthy.  

She sighs contentedly as she settles into bed next to Aaron, pulling the covers over them both. She leans in to kiss him, tasting the sadness that was still lingering on his tongue, made worse by Lucy not even answering him through her door when he’d said goodnight. Emily pulls back just enough to rest her forehead against his. 

“You okay?” She asks, and he nods, his forehead knocking against hers, “Want me to be the big spoon?” 

He chuckles and shakes his head, kissing her one more time, “You’re too small to be the big spoon,” he replies, encouraging her onto her side, “It’s like wearing a jetpack.” 

She rolls her eyes at him and turns her head to stamp her lips against his again, “I’m not that much shorter than you,” she says, resting her head on her pillow and pulling his arm to cuddle it against her chest as he moulds himself against her. She kisses his knuckles before tucking his hand under her chin, “You are a very good big spoon though.” 

She couldn’t remember a time in her life before him, and couldn’t believe she’d lived for so much longer without him than she had with him by her side. She couldn’t imagine doing any of this with anyone else, sure that if she hadn’t kissed him that one night 19 years ago, and if he hadn’t kissed her back, she wouldn’t have any of this - one kid at an Ivy League college and three others asleep just down the hall, a partner she loved more than life itself. 

She’s sure she would have been happy in another life, just a different kind of happy that she was glad wasn’t hers. 

“Goodnight sweetheart, I love you.” 

She hums as he kisses her cheek, “I love you too.” 

She isn’t sure how long she’s been asleep when her phone rings. She groans, blindly reaching out for it, knocking her reading glasses from her nightstand as she grabs her phone. She opens her eyes, the bright light of the screen making her wince as she blinks away the bleariness, and she frowns when she sees Lucy’s name on the screen. 

“Lucy,” she says as she answers, a bad feeling settling in her gut, the weight of it remaining as she slips out from Aaron’s embrace, ignoring the way he calls after her half asleep. She can hear yelling in the background, the unmistakable sound of a party filtering down the line with her daughter’s voice, and she steps out into the hallway, “Why are you calling?” 

“Mom,” she says, her voice slurring, “Can you come get me?” 

“Come get you?” She asks, her heart dropping into her stomach as she walks into Lucy’s bedroom and finds it empty, just like she knew she would. It doesn’t make the sight of the unmade bed, the teddy bear Lucy claimed she didn’t need anymore tipped on the floor, and the open window any easier to take. She feels panic rise in her chest, worst case scenarios flooding through her, every bad thing she’d ever seen happen to a person hitting her square in the chest as she puts her daughter on speaker phone. She scrambles to open the Find My Friends app she has on her phone, her worry tipping into desperation when she sees Lucy’s disabled it on her end, only Aaron, Samuel, Eleanor and Jack flashing up on the map, “Where are you?” 

Lucy sighs, the hesitation in it clear even though she’s obviously drunk, “I snuck out,” she says, hiccuping, carrying on even though she doesn’t need to, “I’m at the party.” 

[sylvain48]

des jolis yeux bleus, un charme 🔝🔥👅💋♨😍💕

[petrichorpg]

Il y a deux jours je suis allez faire un tour sur prd. Ça faisait longtemps ! J'étais curieuse de voir les nouveaux forums qui s'étaient montés mais aussi voir quels anciens tiennent le choc après un an ou deux voir plus.

Savez-vous ce que j'ai eu à la fin de ma session de farfouillage ? Une migraine ! On s'en fou non me direz-vous ? Et bien non !

Ma migraine a été provoquée tout simplement par un manque d'accessibilité numérique sur les différents rpg. Je peux comprendre que de vieux forums aient du mal à changer leur charte graphique et encore pas vraiment justifiable ... Mais les nouveaux forums qui se montent ...

Je rêve d'un monde où la police ne serait pas en dessous de 15px, ou les polices de textes seraient lisibles et non justes jolies, que les textes respirent avec des interlignes corrects et que chacun vérifie que les couleurs mises en place respectent les normes d'accessibilité ! Pitié arrêtez avec votre jaune sur du rouge où on doit plisser des yeux pour lire et bannissez aussi votre blanc et noir pur !

Il y a un tas de ressources bien faites qui circulent sur le sujet, prenez la peine de les lire, pour le bien de tous ! Et quand je vois que des personnes qui sont au courant de ces ressources, font des forums sans appliquer les recommandations/conseils ça m'exaspère au plus haut point.

L'accessibilité numérique ce n'est pas seulement pour les personnes avec des difficultés, si ça fait du bien à une catégorie de personne ça fait du bien à tous !

Dans mon job je milite pour ça au quotidien et je me demande si je ne vais pas faire de mon Tumblr mon cheval de bataille pour les forums !

Il est temps que ça change. On a bien réussi à changer d'autres pratiques pour rendre les rpg plus safe et bien ça passe aussi par offrir un design agréable à sa communauté, c'est aussi prendre soin de ses membres en travaillant son accessibilité numérique !

Un long texte mais j'avais besoin de déverser sur Tumblr ... ✨

[coovieilledentelle]

“En teintes folles, en demi-tons, dans la lumière qui resplendit, tes cheveux sont couleur de miel et tes yeux sont couleur de ciel tes lèvres sont couleur de vie et sur ta peau d’un blond roussi le soleil a fait un semis de mille jolies taches de son.”

Esther Granek 

[au-jardin-de-mon-coeur]

Il y a des fous tellement fous que rien ne pourra jamais leur enlever des yeux la jolie fièvre d'amour. Qu'ils soient bénis. C'est grâce à eux que la terre est ronde et que l'aube chaque fois se lève, se lève, se lève.

Christian Bobin

[soeurdelune]

— rp prompts en français ☆ l'Amulette de Samarcande

tirés de La Trilogie de Bartiméus : l'Amulette de Samarcande (roman de Jonathan Stroud) ☞ n'ayez pas peur de les modifier pour convenir à vos personnages !

☆彡.。.:・☆彡.。.:・☆彡.。.:・☆彡.。.:・☆彡.。.:・☆彡.。.:・☆彡.。.:*・☆彡

“ ta vraie vie commence aujourd'hui. ”

“ c'est un très joli prénom. ���

“ ne prends pas cet air abattu. ”

“ c'est moi qui pose les questions ici ! ”

“ si tu vas trop vite, tu échoueras. ”

“ bon, d'accord, j'ai menti. ”

“ tu me prends pour un·e imbécile ? ”

“ je n'en veux pas. ”

“ tu crois ça ? et bien nous verrons. ”

“ tu veux un peu plus de café ? ”

“ tu es là, toi ? ”

“ j'y viens chaque fois que je peux. ”

“ vous semblez très au courant de ces choses. ”

“ je n'ai pas eu ce privilège. ”

“ je t'ai cherché·e partout. ”

“ non, non, cela n'a pas d'importance. ”

“ ça arrive parfois. il faut persévérer. ”

“ je vois que tu n'as pas ta langue dans ta poche. ”

“ qu'est-ce qui se passe ? tu n'as pas l'air bien. ”

“ je t'ai donné un ordre, alors obéis ! ”

“ ça commence à bien faire. ”

“ tu me prends pour qui ? ”

“ va te faire cuire un œuf. ”

“ ne me parle pas sur ce ton ! ”

“ j'agis pour mon propre compte. ”

“ si tu veux me trahir, je ne peux t'en empêcher. ”

“ si tu me faisais confiance, tout simplement ? ”

“ à quoi penses-tu donc ? ”

“ je voudrais aller faire un tour. ”

“ je ne l'avais jamais remarqué. ”

“ je t'assure que si tu mens... ”

“ c'est énervant, mais tu n'as pas tort. ”

“ il faut que je me repose. ”

“ même blessé·e, je reste plus fort·e que toi. ”

“ c'est pas la peine de me frapper, hein ! ”

“ c'est vrai, je devrais me sentir flatté·e... ”

“ c'est héroïque, mais stupide. ”

“ ce n'est pas très poliment demandé. ”

“ d'abord, on a du travail. ”

“ on s'intéresse à toi, voilà tout. ”

“ je peux lui trancher la gorge, si tu veux. ”

“ je voulais que tu le saches, c'est tout. ”

“ merci, j'ai des yeux. ”

“ tu l'as fait exprès ! ”

“ comment on va se rejoindre ? ”

“ je vous ai apporté un cadeau. ”

“ ne t'en fais surtout pas pour moi. ”

“ si tu as quelque chose à dire, dis-le tout de suite. ”

“ tant pis pour nous deux. ”

[urween]

If Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto was your partner english version here

note : GN!reader et quelque peu de sub!erik

⚠︎ warnings : caractères sexuels (soumission, kink), insécurités, décès

1 470 mots

Global

il a besoin de contact physique et dans n'importe quelle situation. Lorsque vous sortez, il vient souvent t'enlacer sans raison apparente, juste pour te sentir contre lui. En public il doit toujours avoir sa main sur toi, que ce soit ta cuisse, ton épaule, ta main, ton genoux ou même juste ton bras, il faut qu'il ait un contact avec toi. Tu as mis du temps à t'habituer complètement à ses câlins surprises, mais maintenant c'est même toi qui va le rassurer en prenant sa main.

vous ressemblez un peu à un vieux couple : vous sortez vous promener dans la forêt, vous restez quelquefois une semaine entière juste tous les deux chez vous, vous ramassez des pommes de pins. Mais vous êtes comme ça, et vous adorez l'être.

vous habitez loin de la ville, dans une forêt, et grâce à ça vous passez beaucoup de temps dehors à juste regarder la nature vivre autour de vous.

c'était inattendu mais tu as remarqué qu'il avait un corps assez frais. Il n'est pas le genre à te servir de chauffage en hiver par exemple, c'est plutôt toi qui peut prendre cette fonction. Par contre en été c'est assez pratique, ses mains sont toujours froides.

Petites choses du quotidien

lorsqu'il te prend dans les bras il te berce toujours contre lui, que vous soyez debout ou allongés.

de la même manière il passe constamment la main dans tes cheveux, sans forcément les caresser, juste pour sentir la douceur de ces derniers entre ses doigts. Il s'endort d'ailleurs très souvent comme ça, la main dans tes cheveux.

tu aimes beaucoup faire des bouquets de fleurs sauvages, parfois tu les offre à Érik, parfois tu les mets juste dans un joli vase chez vous.

à son tour, il aime beaucoup ramasser des feuilles ou pommes de pin dans la forêt pour après te les montrer et les mettre dans des bocaux, pour faire de la décoration.

tu gardes toujours une bague, un bracelet ou un collier sur toi pour qu'il puisse t'attirer contre lui s'il en a le besoin, et il le fait plus que souvent.

parfois lorsqu'il a du mal à te dire quelque chose alors il va te le dire en allemand, et à cause de ça tu as dû apprendre quelques bases de cette langue. Lors de vos premières années ensemble, il te disait qu'il t'aimait seulement en allemand, car c'était encore trop dur pour lui de le dire autrement.

Vie sexuelle

il n'a pas une libido d'adolescent, en fait il est même assez rarement le premier à engager l'acte. Il t'admire énormément, il a littéralement des coeurs dans les yeux lorsqu'il voit ton corps mais c'est quelque chose de plus profond qu'une excitation sexuelle, il trouve vraiment ton corps magnifique, tellement qu'il veut juste l'admirer en premier et qu'après oui peut-être il aura une érection naissante.

il a tout de même des envies, elles sont juste moins fréquentes que toi.

quelquefois tu vas le regarder avec ces yeux et il comprend immédiatement le message, mais ça ne veut pas dire qu'il a toujours envie, c'est variable en fait.

tu respectes toujours ça. S'il n'a pas envie, il n'a pas envie et c'est tout.

mais il sait aussi que son excitation peut monter avec un peu de temps, et dans ces moments-là tu es toujours là pour l'aider à se sentir à l'aise et en confiance.

c'est aussi pour cela que vous passez beaucoup, beaucoup, de temps sur les préliminaires. Il a besoin de prendre son temps pour être pleinement présent et aussi excité que toi. Mais honnêtement, ça te va. Grâce à ça tu as repris goût aux préliminaires qui été un peu négligés dans tes relations précédentes.

il arrive que tu te fasses plaisir par toi-même, et il a toujours un grand sourire aux lèvres en entendant tes gémissements depuis l'autre bout de la maison. Parfois il toque même à la porte et glisse un petit "je peux te rejoindre ?".

à ton tour, tu lui as appris quelque chose : la masturbation. Ça peut paraître simplet à dire comme ça, mais il n'a jamais pris le temps de le faire, ou s'il le faisait c'était juste mécanique mais jamais pour lui. Alors tu lui as expliqué de nombreuses choses et petit à petit vous avez réintroduit ce plaisir dans sa vie.

peut-être que c'est dû à la mort prématurée de sa mère, ou à son besoin de toujours tout contrôler, mais il a un petit fantasme pour la soumission. Tu l'as remarqué pour la première fois lorsque tu lui as demandé/ordonné de te regarder dans les yeux pendant qu'il venait sur toi. Depuis, tu t'amuses à le menotter au lit (pauvre menottes en fer qui ont fini ratatinées), lui mettre la main sur la gorge ou attraper son visage entre deux doigts, et même toi tu aimes beaucoup ça.

il a assez peu de pénétrations dans vos moments intimes, du moins pénétration "traditionnelle", mais Érik peut te faire jouir de nombreuses fois juste avec ses doigts, il a un peu un don pour ça d'après toi. Tu aimes aussi beaucoup garder tes sous-vêtements et le sentir à travers, c'est encore plus excitant pour vous deux.

Entourage

il ne lui reste plus personne à part toi, et quand tu essaies de lui parler de Charles il se ferme tout de suite.

tu sais qu'il a une grande amitié avec Charles Xavier et tu as essayé pendant longtemps de les raffistoler mais même toi tu sens que la situation est trop compliquée. De ce que t'as dit Érik, lui et Charles n'ont fait que de se réconcilier pour mieux se disputer pendant plusieurs années.

tu as déjà rencontré Raven, ou Mystique, comme elle préfère être appelée. Honnêtement vous pourriez bien vous entendre, mais elle est un peu distante envers toi, et envers tout le monde en général. Malgré ça elle envoie souvent des lettres chez vous, et parfois Érik dit la voir dans la rue, même si toi tu ne vois personne, ou justement trop de monde.

vous n'avez pas vraiment d'amis, donc pas de soirée le samedi soir ou restaurants, du moins pas avec des gens, juste vous deux et ça vous va très bien.

Vulnérabilité

il a des phases où il devient très froid et distant. Dans ces moments-là, tu sais qu'il vaut mieux ne pas essayer de forcer les choses au risque de la braquer davantage.

il a constamment peur de te perdre, de ne pas te protéger suffisamment, et parfois cette peur est plus forte que certains jours alors dans ces cas-là il est persuadé qu'il vaut mieux qu'il te quitte et qu'il parte. Au début, tu as eu beaucoup de mal avec ça, tu avais des difficultés à lui refaire confiance après cette phase paranoïaque, mais le temps a apaisé les choses. Il lui arrive encore d'y penser, de penser à partir pour te protéger de tout potentiel danger qu'il pourrait attirer, mais maintenant il essaie de t'en parler au lieu de psychoter tout seul dans son coin.

tu as appris à utiliser les bons mots pour le rassurer, et surtout à bannir certains mots.

mais il n'est pas le seul à avoir des moments difficiles, il t'arrive aussi d'imaginer le pire ou d'être simplement à plat. À son tour, il est là pour toi comme tu l'es pour lui. Souvent il sait que tu n'as pas envie de parler alors il te forcera à rien, il restera juste avec toi, une main sur ton corps pour te montrer qu'il ne part pas.

Phrases typiquement Érik

À quoi tu penses ?

Fais attention/Ne te brûle pas/Doucement quand tu te lèves/Laisse-moi le faire ok ?

Ça m'a fait penser à toi

Ich liebe dich bärchen

Je veux juste te protéger, tu es si agréable, beaucoup trop pour ce monde

Je ne suis pas cruel mon coeur, simplement réaliste. Regarde autour de toi, des enfants sont tués pour leurs simples ADN, alors pourquoi je devrais être compréhensif envers leurs meurtriers ?

Je ne ferais rien que tu n'acceptes pas

SEXUALITÉ

Je devrais te mettre des fils de fer aux chevilles pour pouvoir contrôler ton joli corps mein schatz

Tu vas encore venir n'est-ce pas ? Oh sweetie ne me regarde pas avec ces yeux-là, tu sais que tu as tout ce que tu veux

Tu savais que ta peau avait un goût sucré ? Non ? Maintenant tu le sais, mein süßes lieblingsdessert

Darling, tu sais que je pourrais briser ces menottes en un claquement de doigt ? Bien sûr que tu le sais, tu es magnifique, si minuscule dans mes bras et so sehr bezaubernd sur mon torse

trad allemand/français : ich liebe dich bärchen -> je t'aime petit ourson ; mein schatz -> m.a.on chéri.e/mon trésor ; mein süßes lieblingsdessert -> mon dessert sucré préféré ; so sehr bezaubernd -> tellement envoûtant.e

° x-men masterlist

gif : Binar on pinterest

bannière : @/saradika-graphics

[insociablementcompliquee]

L’espoir reviendra toujours. Tu peux te jurer que tu n’y touchera plus, que l’amour ça ne t’as pas plus. Que rien ne vaut ces maux, que ça t’as brisé, mis en mille morceaux. L’amour est partout. Il s’infiltre, innocemment, tu souris et ça vient presque naturellement. C’est pas des sentiments, c’est bien plus simple, plus tendrement. C’est une personne qui par son naturel te redonne foi en l’humanité. Y’a beaucoup d’âmes écorchées, mais la sienne parvient encore à briller. Elle illumine la tienne, même contre son gré. Elle parseme des jolis souvenirs, qui quand ça va mal te rappelle que tout n’est pas joué. Il suffit d’une personne, d’une présence enjouée, d’un sourire échangé, d’un regard en toute simplicité. Les gens sont mauvais mais lui y a échappé. L’amour, il le donne, sans contrepartie, sans compromis, juste comme ça, il s’en délaisse, t’en donne un peu, par pur gentillesse. Il le rend acceptable, toi qui l’a rendu condamnable, discutable, plus que minable, cet amour te gagne. Il l’enveloppe d’humour, d’amitié, de bravoure, d’un peu de compétitivité. C’est un second souffle. Toi tu ne savait pas, que l’amour pouvait être simplement partagé. Que ce n’était pas donné sans retour, pas se briser en dernier recours. Ce n’est pas se détester pour mieux donner. Devenir faible pour rendre l’autre fort. C’est simplement échanger, une connexion sans efforts. Un lien qui n’a rien à voir avec les plaisirs du corps. C’est simplement deux âmes qui font un bout de chemin, qui s’alimentent réciproquement parce que pourquoi pas finalement. L’amour doit être simple. Discret. Un petit geste qui fait sourire, une phrase qui fait doucement rire. Mais des yeux qui eux ne savent pas mentir.

[lisaalmeida]

′′ Elle s'est regardée dans le miroir un jour, puis elle m'a regardé, j'étais assis au lit et m'a demandé :

- Tu l'aimes toujours ?

J ' ai répondu :

- comme le premier jour !!

Elle a pris ses mains à la taille et m'a demandé, as-tu remarqué que mon corps n'est plus le même que quand on s'est rencontrés ?

J ' ai répondu :

- Non, non

Elle a pris ses mains dans son buste et m'a demandé, - as-tu remarqué que mon buste est déjà tombé ?

J ' ai répondu :

- Non, non

Elle s'est levée sa robe de chambre et a regardé ses jambes et m'a demandé :

Tu as remarqué que mes jambes ne sont plus dures et lisses comme avant ?

J ' ai répondu :

Encore une fois non...

Puis il s'est approché de moi et avec des larmes aux yeux, il m'a demandé :

Alors

Que fais-tu à mes côtés si tu ne me vois plus, si tu ne réalises même pas combien mon corps a changé, on couche ensemble et tu ne réalises pas que je ne suis pas la même qu'hier ?

Je lui ai souri et lui ai dit :

- Bien avant de voir ton corps, j'ai regardé ta façon d'être, bien avant de toucher ton corps, j'ai senti ta façon d'aimer, bien avant de voir ton buste lever, j'ai regardé sur ta poitrine un cœur rempli de bonté bien avant de voir toi figurine sexy, je t'ai senti une dame... Je t'ai senti femme.

En train de prendre un soupir je lui ai dit :

Ne soyez pas triste de voir à quoi vous ressemblez, soyez heureux de ce que je ressens toujours.

Je suis tombé amoureux de la sensualité et de la bonté de ton âme, pas de la vanité de ton corps...

Et à travers les larmes, je lui ai dessiné un sourire qui a encore fait briller son joli visage.

[journaldesgrandschemins]

Oh mon cœur, tu verras,

quand l'oubli t'aura totalement recouvert,

Quand ton nom ne soulèvera plus une seule poussière,

Quand la douleur brisée en lambeaux filera,

Je frolerai d'une main distraite ta beauté,

Ta gueule d'ange si jolie qui me faisait si peur.

L'étoile sera morte. Dans leur pays de cernes,

Tes grands yeux aux cils noirs n'auront même plus d'abîme.

Quand ton souvenir même se sera décharné,

D'etre resté si seul dans la rue loin de moi,

Mon traître, mon amour, qui m'a tant abîmée,

Tu pleureras alors, sans trop savoir pourquoi.

[ekman]

– “Prends-moi la main, Martial. Je sens qu’elle arrive... Elle est déjà là.” Émile était devenu pâle comme un enfant fiévreux, le teint cireux et le regard de moins en moins mobile. Martial l’avait soulagé de son bardas, puis défait les boutons de sa gabardine. Derrière le tissu percé, son gilet et sa chemise étaient rendus poisseux d’un sang épais. Il respirait très mal, mais ça ne s’épanchait plus.

– “Ça va aller mon Émile, n’aies pas peur.” À genoux dans ce trou de mortier, hors de vue des tireurs allemands, Martial était perdu. Une minute plus tôt, Émile, qui cheminait devant lui, s’était effondré comme un sac de linge, pile quand la détonation d’un Mauser avait claqué sèchement au loin, là-bas vers l’Est, du côté des barbelés fridolins. Plaqué au sol, il avait tout juste eu le temps de le prendre par les brêlages pour le tirer dans un trou d’obus. Que faire si loin des lignes ? Pas la peine de gueuler au secours. À un mètre de profondeur, derrière la terre retournée, personne n’entendrait. Et pas de fusée dans la musette. “Pas la peine, y se passe plus rien ici”, lui avait asséné l’adjudant Bollard avant le départ vers l’avant-poste du Lieutenant Dutray, avec des instructions écrites et un sac de ravitaillement. Mais pourquoi un de ces crétins de Boche avait fait feu ? Des jours que la pétarade avait cessé ! Merde, pourquoi ?! Merde, merde et re-merde !

– “Martial, t’es toujours là hein ?” Martial savait que sa voix allait flancher. Sa vue était entrain de se troubler. C’est que dans sa grosse pogne si froide de boue et de pluie, il sentait la fine main d’Émile plus froide encore. Il se racla la gorge. “T’inquiète, j’ai envoyé une fusée, les secours vont arriver. Ça va aller vite, ils ne tirent plus en face.” La tête d’Émile glissait doucement sur le côté. Martial la redressa et se pencha sur son jeune copain de tranchée. “Merde, Émile, tu vas pas lâcher maintenant. Six mois qu’on traine ensemble ici à déjouer tous les mauvais sorts. Partout on raconte que ça va se terminer, tout ce tintouin, ce merdier. Si c’est pas aujourd’hui, ce sera demain, ou la semaine prochaine, mais guère plus je te dis...” Émile esquissa un sourire. “C’est bête ça, alors. On devait rentrer ensemble pour que je te présente ma sœur.” Il y eut un temps. “Elle est jolie, tu sais, la petite Charlotte.” Martial sentait les larmes creuser leur chemin le long de ses joues, inondant chaque contour de sa barbe sale. ”Oui, elle est gironde ta frangine, mon Émile.” Sa respiration s’arrêta d’un coup. Martial eut le réflexe de secouer le tirailleur de seconde classe Émile Gandin, mortellement blessé d’une balle au poumon.

– “Tu dois pas partir, Émile ! J’entends les gars de la Santé qui arrivent, dis donc ! Respire, bon sang !” Émile eut une inspiration brève et un peu de lumière revint dans son regard. “... et mes parents, Martial. Je suis sûr que tu plairas à mon père,. C’est un dur à cuire, comme toi…”

– “Arrête de causer. Repose-toi, là. Fais pas d’effort, respire bien.” Martial plongea son regard dans celui d’Émile, 22 ans. Il s’imprégna de l’image de son jeune visage, si affreusement pâle. 

Il vit assez nettement l’instant où le dernier souffle de vie passa entre les lèvres du mourant, faisant gonfler quelques petites bulles de salive rosâtres. Un très léger voile apparut à la surface des yeux d’Émile, quelque chose de ténu mais de définitif pourtant. Le signe qu’il venait de partir, de quitter ce trou de terre molle qui mêlait la chair des soldats, l’acier des obus et toutes les larmes de toutes les douleurs. C’était le 10 novembre 1918, quelque part dans le Nord de la France.

J.-M. M.