#this is what your brain looks like on a month of je thoughts

[acertifiedmoron]

jonelias is incredibly funny and thematically compelling to me because of their character trajectories. like it starts out as twisted nbc hannibal season 1 psychological horror "you wouldn't put a guy in situations" wherein elias runs his lab rat i mean jon through the archivist trauma punch card machine ("wind him up and watch him go") and every day is tortured gothic horror protagonist day for him but he doesn't quite get it yet. and then season 3 happens and jon's a little further in the beholding's grasp and he's experiencing physiological changes which only elias understands and now we're in vampirism metaphor territory, he turned you into a monster but he's the only one who will offer you the absolution you seek! ("elias, am i still human?") murderer mentor maker!!! and you hate him you HATE him but *will graham voice* where else would i go?

and then season 4 happens and audio recording by jonathan sims, the Archivist. point of no return. he's extracting statements. he's feeding. he's unwittingly channelling elias ("you just need... a break.") he's scaring everyone at the institute, but doesn't it feel a tiny bit good after having been powerless and at the mercy of all these other avatars for so long? and even then the only person in the whole world he can turn to for advise is elias because they're alike. they're mirrors. they were similar even before the beholding had its hold on jon, because to be avatars of the eye is to hold a shared, unabating curiosity for knowledge and both of them sought it out to protect themselves from the fears. why else would jon end up at the magnus institute if not for a guest for mr spider.

then there's the panopticon reveal and turns out jon was trapped in a bluebeard narrative all along! but bluebeard's just won. jon took the key and opened the door and found his secret but he's not simply another victim, being bluebeard's final wife means narratively distinguishing yourself from the ones that came before and he does. he's the special one, he's the archive. and jonah/elias says he did everything to free himself from pain and death forever, to free them both from it all forever. and he says "don't worry, jon. you'll get used to it here. in the world that we have made."

and then. power dynamic reversal‼️now season 5 fumbled this badly but listen. the monster you created is coming down to hunt you for sport. the thing you created to escape annihilation is also the very thing that can end you at any given moment. "behold a god more powerful than i who comes to rule over me." and then it's "suffer for me, as i suffered for you." and eventually they play out some equivalent of tackling each other off a cliff hannigram style. or dead ringers 1988. because they're doubles they're mirrors they're shadow selves they're the watcher and the archivist. conjoined. and one cannot exist without the other :)

[leclerc-hs]

fille stupide pt. 2 - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader / max verstappen x fem!reader Summary: in which you now kind of know French and a not so stranger crosses paths with you again Warnings: smuuuuttttt, mean charles, bad French (please correct me!!!), bad Dutch (please correct me!!!), spitting, CHEATING!!!! (i apologize in advance), unprotected sex, 18+!, not proofread!! Word Count: 3294 Author's Note: I have absolutely no words for what I have written other than please enjoy..... ;) let me hear some feedback please!!! feedback is the only thing that keeps me writing for y'all. french edited by @dannyramirezwife!!! dutch edited by @deanlovescassie!!! PART 3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Charles.

THE PASSING MONTHS did little to erase the imprint he left on your memory. After all, it’s not all that often you let a total stranger fuck your brains out like he did. His presence lingered in your thoughts like a haunting melody. As time stretched on, the details of his face may have blurred slightly, but the essence of his touch and the way he made you feel remained vivid. He remained a part of your past, but the world seemed to conspire in mysterious ways, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the story was far from over.

The sunglasses, once perched on his nose, now gather dust on your bedside table, serving as a tangible reminder of the indelible memory he left behind. 

While the desire to see him again lingered, you weren’t idly waiting. Life continued its course – you met cute men, went on dates, delved into learning some French and Dutch, and became adept at navigating the intricacies of Monaco. You even have a kind-of boyfriend now. It was still new, about five weeks, not yet too serious. Hence, the Dutch.

“Ben je klaar?” Are you ready? He says, smiling at you as he presses gentle kisses to the top of your head before really looking at you. “Prachtig,” Beautiful. He adds on. You can’t help but blush like an enamored schoolgirl when he is around.

You weren’t sure about the question, but the word ‘beautiful’ was unmistakable. “Max, you know I’m not that good at Dutch yet,” you playfully rolled your eyes before smiling up at him. The word ‘yet’ tugged at his heart strings, as if you were implying that you would master Dutch in the future. It felt like a subtle confirmation of a shared future together.

He looked so handsome in his suit. Tonight, you were accompanying him to a gala event related to his job. Although you weren’t an avid watcher of Formula 1, you were aware of his substantial role in the sport based on what he had shared with you.

As you make your way into the ballroom, his hand gently settles on the small of your back, his thumb soothingly rubbing in a comforting gesture that eases the fluttering nerves within you. A vision of elegance, you enter the scene adorned in a breathtaking silk navy gown with a tasteful high slit. The luxurious fabric drapes gracefully, sculpting a silhouette that effortlessly captures attention with its captivating and refined allure. The high slit, starting just above the knee, ascends provocatively with each step you take.

Entering the room alongside Max, you couldn’t help but sense multiple pairs of eyes fixated on the two of you. With a small smile, you playfully dismiss the stares as if they were all directed at Max. Although, the attention is drawn to you, and it’s clear to Max that you are the center of attraction. 

You feel Max bring his lips softly to the shell of your ear as you finally reach your table for the night, “Looks like I might have to fight off some people tonight, schat.” Darling. You instantly blush as a gentle laugh escapes your glossy lips. With a courteous gesture, he pulls out your chair, and you graciously take a seat, appreciating the chivalry. Afterward, he settles into his own chair, pouring you a glass of champagne.

“Mon dieu, looks like we’re at the same table tonight,” a velvety voice remarks, sending a shiver down your spine. The mere sound of it makes your stomach churn. It couldn’t be. As the words were spoken from behind your chair, you still haven’t seen him to confirm. Max looked over the left of his shoulder, a broad smile on his face.

“Charles! This will be a fun night, don’t you think?” 

The sound of the chair being pulled out across from you reaches your ears, yet you resist the urge to look over just yet. Instead, your attention remains fixed on the half-drained champagne glass in your hand, contemplating whether you should down it like a shot.

Looking up, you summoned a smile as expansive as possible, instantly meeting with a pair of green ones. Your felt your stomach do flips. It’s him. The glint in his eyes gave you full notice that he remembered you too.

“Schat, this is Charles. He drives for Ferrari.” Max introduced him with enthusiasm, as if Charles were a long-lost friend from childhood. You noticed the slight clench of his jaw as the pet-name escaped Max’s lips.

“Enchantée,” Nice to meet you. You uttered the words, your smile not faltering as your eyes shifted to the brunette beauty beside him. You saw a light form in his eyes at the words. French. You were challenging him, unbeknownst to both your dates. You were still clueless to the language, but you were less clueless this time.

You eventually learned that his date’s name is Alexandra and was also a student, like you. She was stunning and so sweet, truly. As Max casually extended an arm over your chair, his fingers grazed your bare shoulder absentmindedly. Charles’s eyes tracked his every move, his stare seemingly burned into your skin.

As the event progressed and more people joined the table, you subtly adjusted your position, angling your body more towards Max on the right of you. It wasn’t to be rude to the rest, but with the increasing noise, you desired to engage in conversation with Max.

Max plants tender kisses to your cheek, whispering, “Je bent zo mooi. So pretty.” You’re so pretty. The compliment lingers, and it feels like the blush on your cheeks will be a constant companion throughout the night.

Across the table, Charles sat, his gaze tracking your every movement. He couldn’t help but notice that you skillfully managed to overlook his presence, and a surge of anger began to form in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t quite justify the anger, considering the two of you barely knew each other. Yet, from the moment he laid eyes on you all those months ago, it felt as if you belonged to him at first sight. Or at least your body did.

“So, how did you two meet?” You resisted the temptation to roll your eyes. Rule number one, you can only roll your eyes when my cock is stretching your tight little pussy. You felt yourself choke on your breath at the memory. Max immediately handed you some water, full concern etched on his face. Despite your thoughts about him, you didn’t want Max to find out, and Charles was pushing the boundaries before you could even set them.

“Ça va. I’m fine.” You patted his thigh, thankful for his concern and care.

A smirk spread across Charles’ face, as if he was privy to your every thought. It was as if he knew that you remembered his number one rule.

“Ran into her at the store a few weeks ago. She bumped right into my shopping cart with her’s.” Max smiled in remembrance. “I thought she was so beautiful and had to ask her out.”

Charles eyebrows raised in interest as he focused back on Max. Bumped into him. His eyes met yours once again for the night, a smirk on his lips as if he was saying: sounds familiar.

“I bumped into someone a few months ago,” Charles began, catching the attention of the table. You could feel the blush carry down, your neck turning red.

“I need to use the restroom,” you stood up quickly, shoving your chair back more than you anticipated. “I’ll be back.”

You eagerly walked towards the nearest restroom, moving as fast as your heels would allow. Slipping through the restroom door, you moved quickly to shut it behind you, but a hand halted the door in place, not allowing you to close it fully. You moved back with a gasp as Charles slipped through the door, closing it behind him and locking it. 

He looked murderous with rage. How could you be here with Max out of all people? He felt his patience wearing thin as you stood across from him with all flushed cheeks and looking absolutely fucking killer in that dress.

“Où sont tes manières?” Where are your manners? It was as if the smirk on his face would never fade tonight, and you had an urge to smack it right off. The French. 

“Et où sont les tiennes?” And where are yours? You countered right back, your tone laced with frustration and disbelief. “You’re the one following me into the ladies room.”

Gradually, he advanced toward you, trapping you between his presence and the vanity of the sink. The cold touch of granite countertop seeped through the thin fabric of your dress, causing goosebumps to rise on your exposed skin. His hands, warm in stark contrast to the cool surface, found their place, one wrapping around the back of your neck, holding it with a firm grip letting you look nowhere else but at him.

“Dit moi,” Tell me. He began, “does he fuck you like the whore that you are?” You felt your breathing quicken, a red siren going off in your head as you felt your legs press together. You were silent, not wanting to give into this game he wanted to play.

“I guess you remembered my number one rule, hm?” He refers to when you refrained an eye roll that he knows you desperately wanted to do. 

“Oh, va te faire foutre” Go fuck yourself. You bite back but he just smirks more. Most likely because you’re able to slightly argue in French now, you assume. You don’t know why you were even speaking in French. It was as if subconsciously you knew, you wanted to impress him.

“Did you fuck him?” Tilting his chin at you, his tone takes on a vaguely condescending note. His jaw was clenched and the grip on your neck tightens as he watches a smile spread across your lips. Confirming that yes, you fucked Max. 

It wasn’t until now that you truly took a good look at him. He was absolutely devastating in a suit. Simply breathtaking. You felt your stomach tighten with desire.

“Fucking salope.” Slut. He seethes. 

He doesn’t give you the chance to verbally answer before his lips are on yours. Your fingers instinctively tangle in his hair, exploring eagerly on their own accord. As if guided by mutual desire, you tug on the roots of his hair, and he moans hotly into your mouth. His other hand slides down to the back of your thigh, lifting your leg around his waist as he presses you up against the counter.

The other hand, still wrapped around the back of your neck, is gripping you tightly. You’re certain you might be getting a bruise, but before you can make a comment, his hand is releasing its grip.

His lips don’t leave yours. His kiss is urgent and demanding, much different than Max, who is sweet and gentle with you. You feel his lips travel down to your neck, sucking feverishly. The pressure of his lips, sobering you up from the heat of the kiss, you shove him back. He didn’t move far though; he was much stronger than you after all.

“Nous ne pouvons pas,” We can’t. You breathe, the words heavy with both desire and restraint. You were so wet. It honestly pained you to push him away.

“We have to get back before they notice.” You slid off the countertop and turned to look in the mirror. If it wasn’t for your swollen lips and out of place hair, no one would’ve said anything. Charles stood behind you, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

You felt the flutter in your stomach as he muttered the next words, “It’s my cock you’ll be coming around tonight, Cherie.”

“A bientôt.” See you soon. And with that he was out the door. Leaving you alone to fix any imperfections before finding your way back to Max with your stomach in knots of anticipation.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Welterusten, schnat.” Goodnight, darling. Max’s kiss leaves you feeling intoxicated as you stumble into your apartment. A broad smile graces your lips as you lean against the closed door. 

Before you can even take a step away from the front door, three loud knocks reverberate from the other side, instantly sobering you up. It’s my cock you’ll be coming around tonight, Cherie. The memory of the words has you instantly squeezing your thighs together.

You swing the door open, not even bothering to fix yourself, and a brooding Charles comes rushing through immediately. The first thing he does is pull you towards your bed, which is no longer a mattress in the middle of the floor and pushes you onto it. He notices the changes in your apartment – the new bed frame and additional furniture – but he doesn’t say anything. It’s just a reminder of how long it has been. He simply stares down at you, his eyes darkening as he undoes his cufflinks, taking in the sight of you with flushed cheeks. And that dress. That fucking dress.

He teetered on the brink of insanity as he reflected on the moment you entered the ballroom tonight. In his eyes, you were the most exquisite and beautiful woman he had ever seen. He genuinely forgot about Alexandra’s presence as soon as you stepped foot in the room. It was as if he didn’t even need to see you to feel you. As if his body had a sensor for your presence. The dress you wore intensified his emotions. If you were his, you wouldn’t have even made it to the gala tonight. Thoughts of Max surfaced, fueling his anger. The realization that the dress was likely chosen for Red Bull intensified his feelings, leaving him sick and consumed by rage. You were his, and the fact that Max seemed to have a claim infuriated him. He had you first.

He brings his finger to the neckline of your dress, tracing it slowly, as his breathing grows louder. “This fucking dress.” His voice sounded strained. It happened so fast; one second your dress was securely on your body, and the next, it was split into two, your breasts exposed as the fabric gave way.

“I can’t look at you in navy for one more fucking second, salope.” Slut.

A loud gasp escaped your lips as he stood tall in front of you, your hands absentmindedly fumbling with the buckle of his dress pants. You both were feverish, in a rush, as if it was a race to who could get naked the fastest.

The kiss started out similar to the one shared earlier tonight: urgent and demanding. Charles pulled away, holding you at arm’s length as he looked at your naked body sprawled on the mattress for him. All for him.

“Merde,” Shit. He muttered before reconnecting his lips with yours. For the first time ever, he seemed intent on taking his time with kissing you. His tongue meeting yours in slow languid strokes has you mewling into his mouth. One hand held your jaw in place while the other rolled your nipple in between his two fingers, and his hips rolled into your cotton covered core. It was so much. He was everywhere at once. 

“Be a good girl,” he says, his voice coming out much deeper than normal, “Open your mouth.”

You don’t question it and open wide. His fingers wrap around your neck as he directs a dribble of spit from him directly to you. You keep it open, not closing your mouth unless he tells you to. For a few seconds, he just stares at his saliva sitting on your tongue, his hand around your neck, and the roll of his hips into you. You were his. “Swallow,” he commands, to which you react instantly.

“Thank you,” you utter the words as sweetly as possible. You want to beg for more. More everything. There is no such thing as too much with him.

A wicked smile forms on his face, “such a fucking whore, hm?”

A loud shriek left your lips as Charles scooped one arm under you, flipping you onto your stomach abruptly. His hand found its place on the back of your neck, pushing your face into the pillows, as he slipped both of your underwear off. French phrases spewing from his mouth, to which you could not understand, as he shoved his cock right into your saturated core.

“Tu me mets encolère.” You make me furious.

“Je ne partage pas putain.” I don’t fucking share.

“Ton corps m’appartient.” Your body belongs to me.

Each thrust into you was harder and harder at each proclamation. As if you would disappear into thin air if he didn’t pound into you hard enough.

“Charles,” you groaned into the pillow, but it came out as nothing but a muffled groan. At some point, you turned your head on the pillow for air, no longer face first in it. Your moans continued, now heard more clearly.

You were so close. So fucking close. Teetering over the edge of your orgasm.

The sound of his skin slapping yours and the wet sounds of your pussy echoed throughout the room. Until suddenly, it stopped. He pulled right out, leaving you groaning and empty. You yelped, turning around in frustration at the loss of contact.

Charles was already staring at you, as he rose from the bed, walking around it to sit against the headboard. His stare ignited a fire within you. You swore in that moment, you wanted his eyes on only yourself for forever.

“Beg,” he commanded. “Beg to ride my fucking cock, Cherie.”

You didn’t let more than a second pass before the words ‘please’ were spewing out of your lips. He grabbed your hips, pulling you over his lap, and centering himself in between your legs. You, now on top. 

There was no hesitation as you slid down his cock, bouncing up and down him repeatedly. You felt fucked. His cock had fucked you stupid now.

He’s insatiable; almost feral, as his hands grip your hips and lift you up and down on his cock. “Mine, you’re fucking mine.”

Nothing but choked gasps escape your lips, incapable of forming any words, as your orgasm finally hits you.

“Tu te débrouilles très bien,” You’re doing so good. You catch nothing in that sentence but the word ‘good’. Your pussy fluttering around his cock at the mere idea of him telling you that you’re good.

“Tell me who your body belongs to.” His voice is gruff, as if his own orgasm is right there.

“Je t’appartiens, Charles,” I belong to you.  You gasp the words in French, knowing it would send him undone almost immediately. His cock twitches inside of you, stuffing you full of him. He’s selfish. He wants you completely full of him, covered of him. Him, him, him. Never once does his eyes leave yours, as if you’re both in a trance. 

He carefully pulls your limp body off him, laying you down beside him and making you feel less empty than before, as he stares at the come dripping between your legs. He brings his fingers to you, pushing as much of it back inside you as he can. You didn’t even bother to argue, you were on the pill. You wanted to be full of him after all.

You were fucked stupid. Completely cockdumb and limp against the bed. You felt your eyes drooping as Charles tucked you in under the covers, hovering above you as he places a gentle kiss to your forehead.

The only words that you hear are a soft “A bientôt” and “Repose-toi” before the door of your apartment was clicked shut as you fell into a deep slumber.

[hedgehog-moss]

Hey!

I thought maybe you could help me in my quest. I've made two bookmarks for a friend with watercolors. One of them is a small fox looking at fallen leaves flying above his head, as if he were mesmerized by them. And I've been trying to find a good quote to accompany it on the back of the bookmark, but I haven't been successful so far.

I'm looking either for a poetry excerpt (my bookmark is 1/8 of an A4 sheet of paper, so nothing that would be very long [like a full sonnet haha] but I still have some space) or a quote of any kind, in French or in English, both are fine.

Would you have any that would make a good fit? Maybe an autumn-y one?

[I don't want to influence you, but for example, for the second one which is a sky at almost-dusk-time with a washed-out blue sky and soft pink clouds, I have a quote from one of the Anne of Green Gables books by Lucy Maud Montgomery:

"In daylight I belong to the world, in the night to sleep and eternity. But in the dusk I'm free from both and belong only to myself."]

Much thanks, and scritches to your various animals :)

Handmade watercolour bookmarks are such a nice idea for a gift, I love it <3

I vexed myself thinking about your request because I learn poetry by heart so often, or small book excerpts, but when someone asks me to dig up a topical quote my mental library is suddenly empty. I wish I had a tag system for my brain.

I vaguely remember an Alfred Desrochers poem the first stanza of which was "Le vent est froid, le ciel est gris, la terre est rousse / L'automne est revenu par septembre apporté / Et les arbres, devant la mort du bel été / Pleurent des larmes d'or [?quelque chose?] sur la mousse." And something by Francis Jammes about "ces jours qu'empourpraient les agonies solaires de l'automne" but no recollection beyond that...

I also remember some meager excerpts from "Matin d'octobre" by François Coppée, "A travers la brume automnale / Tombent les feuilles du jardin / [???] / Une blonde lumière arrose / La nature, et dans l'air tout rose / On croirait qu'il neige de l'or."

And one of my favourite poems by Marie-Claire Bancquart, "Je marche dans la solitude des livres", "Beyond the garden, beyond the moment at hand, are the fallen shells of chestnuts, the fire of leaves in the mist..."

And a verse by Ernest Dowson that went "And are we not better and at home / in dreamful autumn...? "

Maybe a couple of lines from this e.e. cummings poem? What my brain retained of it was "the glory is fallen out of the sky, this is the passing of all shining things"...

(if a fox could write autumn poetry I think it would sound like this poem. "no lingering no backward-wondering straight glad feet fear ruining lead us into the serious darkness...")

I also like this sentence by Elizabeth Coatsworth, from her book Personal Geography: "The magic of autumn has seized the countryside; now that the sun isn’t ripening anything it shines for the sake of the golden age; for the sake of Eden; to please the moon for all I know."

Anyway, love the idea of handmade illustrated bookmarks :) It reminds me of a calendar I made for a friend years ago, I wrote a little poem for each month and illustrated it. One of the poems was about having a snail friend:

[lqvesoph]

her ex - pablo gavi

gif by @gavidaily

Summary: Your boyfriend is playing extra agressive today and maybe it has something to do with a certain player from the opposite team, your ex boyfriend Pierre

masterlist taglist

"He's playing quite agressive, isn't he?", Aurora asked, nodding towards her brother. "It's Pablo, he always plays aggressive", you chuckled, playing it down but you had noticed it as well.

Your boyfriend was extra agressive today, especially towards one particular member of the opposite team. Your ex boyfriend Pierre had transferred to Sevilla during the winter transfer window.

And to your displeasure you had the chance to talk to him already...

"Y/n? Is that you?", you heard a voice behind you. You turned away from Ferran and Alejandro but when you saw who had called your name, you wanted to turn away again.

"Pierre", you said, looking at him.

Your ex-boyfriend had a smile on his face and went in for a hug but you stepped back. The two Barça players gave you a questioning look.

"What do you want?", you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just wanted to say hello, we haven't seen each other in ages", the blond boy grinned with a strong french accent. "Hmm, maybe just a thought for your tiny little brain. Could it be because you cheated on me?", you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Pierre shook his head with a smirk.

"C'mon, you're still mad about it", he laughed. You snorted and shook your head in disbelief.

Then you turned back to the two boys, but Pierre grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him. You hastily snatched it from him.

"Let me go!", you said, raising your voice.

"Hey!", someone called behind you and shortly afterwards you felt Alejandro pulling you behind him. "And who are you?", Pierre asked bit-approvingly and looked down at Alejandro, who was least half a head smaller.

"I could ask you the same thing", he said and looked at the Sevilla player. "Ale, leave it", you muttered and pulled on his arm.

"I'm her boyfriend", Pierre grinned.

You frowned and shook your head.

"You lost every privilege to ever say that again", you cut in before Alejandro could say anything, you really didn't want Pierre to know details about your private life with Gavi. "Pierre, I told you 6 months ago and my mind hasn't changed. I don't want you in my life and I never want to see you again. Bye", you said with a sharp voice.

You took Alejandro's arm and pulled him back to Ferran.

"Y/n, je t'aime I love you", he called. "Bien, je ne le fais pas! Je te deteste! Well, I don't. I hate you", you called back and turned around again. "On peut en parler? Can we talk?", he asked, sounding almost desperate, but you knew it was all just for show.

You were tired of hearing his false excuses.

"Je n'ai rien à te dire, arrête, ne me dérange plus I have nothing to say to you, stop, don't bother me anymore", were your last words before you turned to the two Barcelona players.

"What was that all about?", Ferran asked, nodding in the direction of Pierre. "He's my ex boyfriend, Pierre Dubois. He cheated on me but apparently still thinks I'm his property", you explained, rolling your eyes.

"You speak French?", Alejandro then asked. You nodded. "I lived in France and had French in school", you replied. "We dated for about a year but 6 months of that he was cheating on me", you kept going.

"Dick", Ferran mumbled and continued doing his warm-up.

---

Your boyfriend had received a yellow card in the first half, for a more than nasty tackle against none other than your ex boyfriend Pierre. Your brother Pedri had hissed besides you, saying he'll get at least a yellow card for this.

At half time, you went down to the players tunnel. Being Pedris sister granted you VIP access and even though he's told you that no one likes to have intruders in this area during the game, you needed to see your boyfriend.

"Pablito?", you asked, lifting your brow. Gavi rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what you were talking about.

"He was bothering you before the game, so I slightly pushed him", he explained, wrapping an arm around you as soon as the cameras couldn't catch you anymore. "I know him", you replied, your voice sounding muffled as your face was pressed to his chest.

"Oh, sorry", your boyfriend replied, pausing in his tracks in front of the dressing room. "He's my ex boyfriend." Gavi slightly pulled back from you. "I'll take the "sorry" back", he said with a stern look. You chuckled and went in for an actual hug this time.

"Still you shouldn't have fouled him", you murmured. "It wasn't even a yellow", Gavi said, rolling his eyes. "It was at least yellow, Pedri was worried you'll be send off", you told him, pulling back to look at the boy.

His cheeks were still flushed from the cold air outside, so you put your warm fingers against his freezing skin.

"It was a tackle", he tried to talk himself out of it but wasn't looking at you, telling you that he was lying. "A pretty nasty one", you chuckled, placing your lips on his.

Gavi's fingers digged deeper in your puffy jacket and pulled you a little closer. He tried to deepen the kiss but you pulled back, quickly putting a finger on his lips to prevent him from going in for another kiss.

"You have to go inside, your team is waiting", you chuckled. "They can wait", he whispered, pulling your finger down and pressing his lips to yours.

"Uh-uh", you mumbled, pushing him back by the shoulders. "Plenty of time for this later", you giggled, turning him around and pushing him toward the door.

"See you later", he laughed.

You shook your head with a smirk and turned around to go back outside but stopped in your tracks when your eyes met the brown ones of none other than Pierre.

He huffed and turned around. You rolled your eyes. He has no right in hell to act jealous right now.

So that's how you ended up here. The second half started and Gavi played at least as agressive as in the first half.

Before you could think about it any further, Gavi had been passed the ball by Ferran, giving him a great opportunity to run towards the goal but just before he had the chance to shoot, an opponent slided right into him, which brought him to the grass.

But Gavi was quick up on his feet again, pushing the Sevilla player back. You stood up from your seat to get a better view of what was happening.

You groaned when you figured out who the Sevilla player was your boyfriend was fighting with.

Pierre and Gavi had grabbed each others collar, pushing each other back before grabbing the other again.

Sergio tried to get Gavi away from the fight but he wasn't having it. The ref's constant whistle didn't help either.

Most of their teammate were around them by now, trying to pull them off each other.

You saw how they were yelling at each other, before Pierre lifted his hand, slapping Gavi across his face. Aurora and you gasped in unison and the stadium erupted in loud screams of protest.

The short pause of shock gave Busquets the opportunity to pull Gavi back by his shoulders. The boy was holding his nose, still looking back at Pierre who received a straight red card from the referee.

Pierre shock his head, getting guided away by two of his teammates.

The referee turned around to find Gavi, showing him his second yellow card of the day, it being followed by a red card.

Busquets brought him to the sidelines, talking to him in a calming matter. He guided him to the medical staff of Barcelona who followed Gavi down the tunnel, inside the changing rooms.

"I'll go see him", you mumbled, hectically standing up from your seat.

You walked through the empty halls of the stadium, knocking on the dressing rooms door before opening it.

Gavi sat on one of the benches, pressing a tissue to his bleeding nose. José stood next to him, inspecting his nose from the side. "It doesn't seem to be broken. Does it hurt?", he asked.

Pablo caught sight of you standing in the door. You closed it behind you, making José look towards you as well.

"No", Gavi snapped.

"I'll leave him to you", José said before leaving the room, leaving you alone with your boyfriend.

You nodded and took a few steps closer to Pablo. "You okay?", you asked. Your voice barely louder than a whisper.

Gavi looked down, not answering. You moved to sit next to him, placing your hand on top of his thigh.

It gave you a little confidence when he didn't shrug your hand off, so you moved your hand further up.

"Hey", you mumbled, putting your hand to his cheek and turning his head so he'd look at you. "He's an ass, he's always been", you spoke, making Gavi chuckle humorless.

"Bebe, what's wrong?", you asked, letting your hand fall from his cheek. "He made me get a red card", Gavi spoke.

You leaned your head on his shoulder. "And?"

"All these injuries are freaking me out. Pedri, Ansu, Lewy, Ous. We're playing Real on Thursday for God's sake. And then the media... I- he was just there, provoking me and Ferran mentioned something about him cheating on you, so I- just... I don't know", Gavi started rambling.

"Shhh, it's okay, it's okay", you whispered, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb.

"Did he really- you know, cheat on you?", Gavi spoke up after a few minutes of silence. You nodded. "Yeah, with my best friend", you chuckled humorless.

Gavi lifted his head. "Seriously?", he called. "What a prick!!"

"Found them in bed together after coming home from college", you elaborated further. "Maybe I should've pushed him harder", Pablo mumbled.

You couldn't help but grin.

"How's your nose?", you changed the topic, seeing that he wasn't holding the tissue up to his nose anymore.

"The bleeding stopped", he said, showing you the blook soaked tissue. You nodded stood up. "Then let's get you cleaned up", you smiled, holding out a hand for him to grab.

taglist

@im-an-overthinker @buendiabebeta @hungryhungariann @eve-eh @ohthemisssery @kenopsiababe @starlightoctavia @sawendel @lechefian @teamspideyman @enjoymyloves @alireads27 @ricsaigaslec @ravenqueen27 @whatever-comes-to-me @squidwardsluverxx @temqr1 @leclerc16s @lavinyx @dudelovesstuff @theamazingsimplethings-blog @coldmuffinbanditshoe @hotchnisscm97 @bellasummer @andtheworldiscrashingdownonme @moneymasnn @justme2042 @organasith @idkiwantchocolatee @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @pleasantducktimetravel @anthonykatebridgerton @juno-1610 @lisannehus @hannahholland1811 @marvelousmendess @lighttsoutlewis @mydutchproblem @dan3avocado @alwaysclassyeagle @cocomira @hopiiex @allthisfortommy @soleilgrec @cheeryara-blog @person234 @aquamariene-me @judespoision @klouise12345 @sbgal @teti-menchon0604

when i first made my taglist i forgot to sort them, so i added everyone who wanted me to, to my overall taglist. if you want to be changed to a specific taglist, please let me know.

also if your tag is not working, I'm sorry but I don't know why

[aphroditestummyrolls]

Finally, finally, finally— in the next day or so (maybe tonight??) I’ll be posting the first chapter of the Wylan Whump Fic™️.

Until then: a snippet

“Jes, I… can we not talk about it right now? Can it wait?”

It hit him like a slap across the face.

“Can it—“ suddenly, he didn’t feel solid, like his fear shook his atoms loose. Every part of him was unsteady. “No, Wylan, it can’t wait, this is the second time in a week you’ve fully stopped breathing, and you—“

The pathway between his brain and his mouth seemed like a fucking labyrinth. Fumbling his words, Jes abruptly gave up and clicked his mouth shut— he didn’t know what to say or how to say it, but he needed to move. In the corner of his eye, Wylan’s slim, bony frame shrunk away from him. Like he was trying to disappear.

It hurt. These past months, he tried to not to take it all too personally— the evasion, the mystery, the things left unsaid. But, it had never been like this before.

What happened to you? He wanted to cry out. Why are you so afraid? Who hurt you?

It was just another question to add to the never ending mountain of them since he’d met Wylan. Where did you come from? How did a prince like you end up all the way down here? How do you know all the amazing things you know?

He used to ask every time the words popped into his head. It was so easy to let his mouth run, and Wylan was so easy to talk to— he should be easy to ask questions of, too. Right? Jesper said it all with awe and wonder, how do you know that? Or who taught you that? He hardly thought it would be… so unwelcome.

After Shu Han, he asked less. Wylan wouldn’t give more than a one or two word answer anyway— just a shrug, or duck his pretty face away from Jesper’s gaze.

Lately, it felt like he was standing in a blocked corridor with locked doors on all sides. Nowhere to go, and constantly knocking, calling for people who weren’t willing to answer— Da? How could he ever look his father in the eye again? Jesper had closed that proverbial door himself. Then there was Inej, Inej was gone. Nina wasn’t close enough. Kaz? Kaz didn’t let anyone in.

He expected it from Kaz— when had he ever gotten more than the bare minimum from him? Jes wasn’t blind, he knew what his value was to his best friend. He was a tool, easily manipulated. Kaz saw him as a child, and the worst part was that he wasn’t wrong. Jesper was childish.

His fingers twitched, the tips of them rubbing like he could feel chips between them.

He knew what he was to Kaz.

But, what was he to Wylan?

Another question for the pile, he thought bitterly. He knows what you are— you told him everything. He’s too smart to hang around much longer. He knows you’re unreliable, can’t keep your mouth shut or your kruge in your pocket, or—

The window was permanently stuck open, and the curtains fluttered with the chill of the autumn twilight. Jesper practically tripped over his feet to the fresh air, shaking his head to clear it.

“Jes? Jes, please—“ Wylan’s voice was so small. The sound of it solidified in his chest like jagged ice. He flexed his hands with the urge to go to him, to hold him.

But, his touch wasn’t welcome. It had only made it all worse, hadn’t it?

Tugging his curls until he was sure he looked a bit insane, Jesper forced himself to turn around and face that voice.

Saints.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

Content warnings for this chapter: ptsd, wounds, implied violence, implied child abuse

AO3 link

Chapter 22 - Wylan

Jesper was right - talking really was his superpower. If Wylan hadn’t eventually said:

“Jes, don’t you need to go to work?” he wasn’t sure he ever would’ve stopped. 

He had encouraged Wylan to drink the tea he’d brought up for him, pressing the warm mug into his hands and guiding Wylan’s fingers to the handle as he chattered, but for the most part Wylan just sat feeling the heat of it between his palms. There were a couple of bread rolls lying on a plate across the room as well, but Jesper hadn’t mentioned them and Wylan wasn’t hungry. Jesper had paused briefly in the middle of a story Wylan wasn’t really listening to when he realised how much time must have passed, because the tea was cold. He was grateful for the sound of Jesper’s voice to occupy his mind even if he wasn’t really listening to what he said, it felt like an anchor keeping him in this room, in this moment. He almost regretted stopping him, but he didn’t want to be the reason Jesper was late or missed work. 

“Oh, shoot, yeah,” Jesper laughed, “I can stay, if you want-”

“I’ll be okay,” Wylan breathed, trying to smile, “Really. Thank you, so much,”

“Of course, love,” Jesper stood up and leaned a little closer; Wylan felt himself tense, “You want a new drink?”

He was looking at the half empty mug, its steam long dissipated and its colour fading from the most welcoming sight. 

“Oh- it’s alright, thanks,” Wylan let Jesper take the cold tea off him and set it back on the table, “Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay here?”

He didn’t know why he was risking asking - he didn’t have anywhere else to go. But he didn’t want to make Jesper feel like he had to take care of him. 

“Of course,” he said, again, “Long as you want. I’ll run and find some dry clothes and then I’ll go,”

Wylan nodded, but even so when Jesper returned and knocked on the door again he felt himself flinch. His breathing grew sharp and one of his hands fumbled to his neck, as if he was still trying to pull Prior’s hands away from his throat. He knew it was just Jesper, he knew that, he knew that. But apparently that wasn’t going to stop his brain from going into overdrive. 

“Wylan?”

He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t breathe.

“Wylan, are you okay?”

“Yeah - sorry,” his voice didn’t sound right, “I - sorry -”

“Don’t apologise. I can leave these here for you and you can just get them when you want, or-”

“Uh, no, it’s okay,” Wylan managed, flexing his fingers in and out of his fists, “You can come in. Sorry,”

“Do you know what don’t apologise means?” asked Jesper as the door opened, smiling at Wylan, “Here,”

He tossed a shirt and a pair of trousers, which landed sort of haphazardly on Wylan’s lap as he tried to catch them. He dropped the shirt.

“Sorry, probably should’ve thought that through,” Jesper picked it up and pressed it into Wylan’s hand, “But I think those should fit okay - and there’s a railing on the wall opposite the bed, you can hang your stuff on there to dry,”

Wylan nodded.

“Thank you,” 

“Yeah of course - okay, I’ve gotta run or I’m gonna be late, are you sure you’re okay on your own?”

Wylan just nodded again. 

He had been glad to sit with Jesper for a while, listening to whatever he’d been talking about without really taking it in, but he was glad to have a little time for himself as well.

Jesper’s room could only be described as chaotic. The bed was unmade, the pillows in disarray and the duvet falling half onto the floor where the corner drooped into a pile of discarded clothes. The table where Wylan’s cold tea and the little bread rolls were sitting in wait was also decorated by several other used cups and plates, some stacked on top of each other and some shoved to one side to make space for the ones Jesper had brought up earlier. It wasn’t a big space but there was a window that peered onto the street below and, if Wylan’s sight hadn’t been blurry, would have given him the vaguest hint of the canal behind the next few buildings, with frayed curtains that had clearly faded from whatever colour they were once supposed to be. Other than the faded curtains Jesper’s room was actually very colourful, like it was impossible for him to own more than one item in the same shade. Wylan turned back from the window, fingers brushing the sill and spilling dust onto the floor. He brushed his hand down the leg of the trousers he’d just changed into, trying to get the remnants off himself, and then picked up his dripping clothes and pushed one of Jesper’s waistcoats to the end of the little railing so there was space to hang them over it. 

The room was definitely chaotic, but that made it feel real. Lived in. Wylan’s room at home could have belonged to pretty much anyone if you didn’t know it was his, but this place looked like it actually belonged to someone. Or like someone actually belonged here. 

It took him a few minutes to convince himself to open his satchel; he wasn’t sure why it felt like he couldn’t do it, but if he left it where it was the water would end up ruining Jesper’s already slightly dodgy floorboards and all of Wylan’s things would be ruined. He wondered what his father had done with the trunks that were supposedly being sent after him, and had to suddenly pinch his nose and swallow hard to try and keep from throwing up. 

Everything in his satchel was soaked through. He had to wring his favourite jumper out over the window ledge before he put it onto the railing with everything else because the wool was holding so much water, and he was pretty sure the shape was all warped and ruined but he was trying to convince himself away from thinking about it. It was an incredibly stupid thing to be concerned about right now, but it was his favourite jumper and it was probably ruined and it was making him want to cry. And what about everything in his trunk? His clothes, his shoes, everything - even the sheet music he’d managed to keep hidden in his wardrobe for so long… all of it must be gone. He’d taken his flute out of his jacket pocket when he hung it over the railing, but now he didn’t really have anywhere else to put it except back into his sopping wet bag and that didn’t seem very practical. He stood in the centre of Jesper’s room, holding his almost definitely ruined flute, staring at his almost definitely ruined jumper, his hair still wet and the goosebumps on his arms still shivering beneath the too-long sleeves of his borrowed shirt. He hoped it was borrowed, anyway, though walking through this building had set him on a pretty certain path that this was probably stolen. 

There were still loud noises chattering through from downstairs and the rooms either side of this one; conversations that were either mostly unintelligible or didn’t make sense to Wylan. There was a couple arguing in the room next door, sounding like they were on the verge of throwing things at each other, and a couple in the room above who were definitely doing something else. Wylan stared at the ceiling for a moment - it’s half six in the morning! - and then shook himself back to his senses. It was like he’d fallen into another world, some kind of mad mirror dimension of the city that he’d thought he knew, and he had no idea how to function here. He wished he’d drunk all of his tea; he wasn’t going to dare venturing anywhere else to get a new one. He settled for the water flask that he’d set on the floor when he took it out of his satchel, running his fingers along the newly acquired dents in the metal. 

Jesper was only gone for about two hours. Wylan paced around the room, finished all the water in his flask, convinced himself to rip an edge of one of the bread rolls. He caught himself in the smudgy mirror and realised there were bruises growing on his throat. He pulled his collar up, as if that would be enough to hide them, and hoped that Jesper wouldn’t notice.

The sounds of the house were relentless and every single one of them was someone coming to find him, Prior or Miggson ready to finish the job. By the time Jesper returned, Wylan was sitting between the wall and the foot of the bed, with knees pulled to his chest, his flute clutched loosely between his fingers. The wood was warped. It was useless. 

“Wylan?”

Wylan jumped. He hadn’t heard Jesper come in. 

“Oh, is this the famous flute?” Jesper grinned as he sat down in front of Wylan, apparently not caring to question what he was doing sitting on the floor, “Do I get to hear you play?”

“It’s ruined,” Wylan mumbled, without looking up, still running his fingers over the misshapen wood.

He was an idiot. If he had just left his flute in his bag, tucked it safely into its case, it probably wouldn’t have been quite so far beyond repair. It might have survived. But he’d wanted it in his jacket, he’d wanted to be able to feel it and know that it was there for what? He couldn’t even describe the nervousness he knew he would’ve felt in its absence. He had a vague memory of going travelling somewhere once, he didn’t remember where and he’d only been a small child, and checking his bag every few minutes as though all of his belongings might have vanished the moment he looked away. That one stuck out, other than all the other travels he had once been happily - even excitedly - welcomed on by his father, because by whatever age he was then he’d had his first flute and it was sitting in that bag, on the verge of disappearing every few seconds if he didn’t keep an eye on it. Keep it safe and close and in a strange way almost secret. So what? For some stupid sentimentality or foolish, entirely impractical and irrational fear, Wylan had destroyed his flute. He may as well have clung to it so tightly that his fingers snapped it in half, for all the infuriating irony was not lost on him, and he wanted to scream his frustration and his loss. But he just carried on sitting there, running his fingers over the ruined flute, grieving for something that had never been alive in the first place.

“Oh, Wy, I’m so sorry…” Jesper’s voice felt distant.

Wylan just shrugged.

“I shouldn’t care this much,” he whispered, “Not… not about this, of all things this is what’s…”

He couldn’t finish the thought; he just shook his head. The pain in his chest had only slightly released since crawling out of the canal hours ago, and he felt nerves rising as he wondered if Jesper could see his bruises. He had to hold himself back from fidgeting with his collar. 

“Wylan, you’re allowed to be upset about-”

“Don’t,” he whispered.

He couldn’t talk about it. He shouldn’t have mentioned it. Jesper shuffled, but he didn’t say anything. Wylan felt his hand wanting to drift to his shirt collar again and tightened his grip on his flute. Trying harder to hide them was only going to draw Jesper’s attention to the bruises.

“That wasn’t a long shift,” he said, eventually, when the quiet - not silence, apparently there was never silence here - got too much.

“I just sorted out a deal with them,” said Jesper, smiling, “So you weren’t stuck here alone for ages,”

Wylan nodded. 

“Where do you work?”

There was brief pause, before Jesper ventured:

“At a bar,”

He didn;t sound entirely convinced about his own statement, but who the hell was Wylan to call someone out for lying?

“I, erm…” Jesper hesitated, then began again talking so quickly it was like his own words - or perhaps his thoughts - were overlapping each other, “I know someone, who I think you should talk to. I mean - well, he wants to meet you so if you want to - tomorrow, you don’t have to like now, I mean…”

He trailed off for a moment, then said more succinctly:

“You can stay here tonight and I’ll get out of your way, but if you’re feeling okay tomorrow then there’s this guy I work with, Kaz - he’s my boss. He’d like to talk to you,”

Wylan leaned back, feeling tension run through his shoulders.

“Why?”

“He’s hoping you’ll make a deal with him - you don’t have to, okay, but if you just have a conversation with him he might be able to help you out,”

“Help me out?” asked Wylan, raising an eyebrow, “By making a deal? You sure you’re not talking about the devil, here?”

Jesper laughed.

“You might be more accurate in that than you want to be, Wylan,” he laughed again, “But he probably can help you, and you can probably help him. Look, if you just talk to him - and I can be there too, if you want me to - you don’t have to agree to anything. But he might be able to help you make some money, maybe even… I dunno, but he could get you a job, I’m sure,”

The actual practicality of everything hadn’t quite dawned on Wylan until now. He was alone - or almost alone, anyway - in the Barrel, his father had tried to have him killed and may very well believe him drowned, he had no money but a couple of very wet kruge notes, and no skills or methods of income whatsoever. He would have to find a job somewhere; would have to do something to survive. And Jesper had said he could stay here, but he could hardly do that forever could he? He needed money, he needed somewhere to live, he… he needed to at least survive this part, if he would have any hope of ever figuring out the next. 

“Okay,” he murmured, eventually, “I’ll talk to him,”

[koolkat9]

Out of Sight

Based on an idea that has been rolling around in my head for awhile and that was finally brought out by this post by @sunnylolli. 

Rating: T

Relationship: England + Canada

Word Count: 910

Read on AO3

Matthew saw things. For as long as he could remember. Long before he ever met Arthur or even Papa. It started as tiny lights, dancing in the air. Papa had said those were fireflies, but Matthew knew better. One time, Matthew caught the light, cupping it in his hands. Pudgy fingers opened to reveal a little girl with beady blue eyes and wings like a dragonfly. She looked terrified.

“Je suis désolé mademoiselle,” Matthew sputtered, opening his hands wider so the little lady could get out. He left the lights alone after that.

Then there was the time he got pulled under by the undertow. The specifics were blurry, but he remembered a woman’s face, many sea creatures wrapped in her hair, her skin littered with scales. When he came to, he was on the shore, all alone. He had shouted a thank you to the sea, having a feeling that whoever saved him resided there. He never saw her again.

But the scariest was the shadowy figure that stood in the corner of his room every now and then. Sometimes it looked like a bear, sometimes an owl, sometimes a wolf. Its eyes glowed white within the darkness. At first, he thought it was a nightmare, but it kept coming back. Papa couldn’t see it, though he got this grave look on his face whenever Matthew mentioned it to him. So Matthew kept quiet. After all, it wasn’t like the shadow did anything threatening, and it only showed up every few months.

Years went by, and Papa left. Why he had to leave Matthew didn’t fully understand, but Arthur was nice and didn’t mind taking him on walks even if it was muddy or getting down on the grass with him to roll around.

Arthur saw things too. Some things Matthew didn’t even see. And yet, Matthew couldn’t bring himself to mention the creatures to Arthur.

He was just about to fall asleep when he heard shuffling. He tried to pay it no mind, his brain too close to sleep to process the possible danger. But then he felt something warm wash over his face. He cracked his eyes open, and sure enough, two glowing eyes stared into him.

Matthew screamed, and the shadow creature stumbled back. Taking the chance, he rushed into Arthur’s room bawling. Arthur jerked awake, springing up from his bed. “Matthew? Matthew…what’s the matter darling?”

“Th-There’s…In my room…I-I don’t...It was there and–”

“Slow down. Shhhh. It’s going to be okay. How about you show me?”

Matthew shook his head ‘no.’ He couldn’t go back into that room.

“Oh come now. Surely it was just a nightmare.”

He was just like Papa. ‘It’s just in your head mon chou.’ ‘Go to sleep, and it’ll disappear.’ ‘It was just a dream, Matthieu.’

“It’s there,” Matthew screamed at the top of his lungs, “It’s been there over and over and over. And it’s gotten closer and–”

“Matthew we do not raise our–”

“You’re just like Papa. No one ever believes me.”

“Matthew, do not--”

But Matthew was already rushing to the door only to meet the shadow, shaped like a man towering over him.

“I am talking to you young–” Arthur made a strangled noise at the back of his throat as he stared at the figure. “Matthew…Get behind me.”

Matthew didn’t need to be asked twice. He skittered behind Arthur, gripping his nightgown and burying his face into the fabric. Arthur muttered something under his breath. Latin if he had to guess, but it didn’t sound like anything he had heard before. He smooshed his face even more into the fabric until he was pressing against Arthur’s leg.

There was crackling, then something hot, and then a hand in his hair that kept Matthew planted in place once everything was over. “It’s alright poppet,” Arthur panted, “It’s all gone now.”

“Mmm…”

Arthur crouched down, peeling Matthew off and looking him in the eye. He thumbed away Matthew’s tears. “I’m sorry for not believing you lad. I…I never thought I’d find another like me outside of my brothers. But I should have believed you, and I’m sorry.”

Matthew sniffed, wiping his nose with his sleeve.

“You don’t have to worry about that thing again,” Arthur went on, “I took care of it.”

Matthew bit his lip, looking around the room. The shadow was gone, but he didn’t want to go back to his room. He didn’t want to ask though. He had already bugged Arthur so much.

“There’s something on your mind,” Arthur noted, “Out with it.”

Matthew tensed. His eyes drifted to his feet. “Um…C-Can…Can…Can I…sleep with you?”

Arthur smiled gently, collecting Matthew into his arms. “Of course dear. As long as you agree to talk to me about that sight of yours in the morning.”

“Okay.”

They settled under the covers, Arthur ensuring Matthew was wrapped up nice and tight so the chill of the night couldn’t dig into them. “Comfy and cozy?” Arthur asked, laying down beside him.

“Mhm.” Matthew’s eyes were already starting to close.

Arthur carded a hand through Matthew’s hair. “Good. Sleep well, love.”

“Night…Daddy…” The words were heavy on Matthew's tongue but it felt right.

Arthur’s breath hitched, grip tightening for a moment. Just as Matthew drifted off, Arthur placed a kiss on his forehead and pulled him against his chest. Matthew happily snuggled up for a good night's sleep, knowing as long as Arthur--his dad--was there, he would be okay.

Info About the Folklore Used The first is obviously fairies

The second folklore creature Matthew met is The Sea Goddess of Inuit folklore. You can learn more about her here: http://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/the-goddess-of-the-sea-the-story-of-sedna

And the third folklore creature I took some liberties with. It’s somewhat based on loup-garou (French/French-Canadian version of a werewolf, though some stories depict them as changing into other animals instead of a wolf), but they didn’t exactly fit the scene I wanted to depict them in so I decided to make up a creature but base it off an already existing creature.

[applejuicefruit]

hiii! can we get an adrien rabiot fluff where he’s teaching you how to speak french?

Hiii! Thanks for requesting!

I really hope you like it!

Mr Professor

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Me and Adrien, we’ve been dating for over five months and I still haven’t met his family yet…well this is going to change very soon since his family is coming over next week.

Honestly, I was scared. I know how close he is with is family and I also know how much he loves me but just the thought of his family hating me made me sad.

“I am not that bad, am I?” I always ask myself knowing no one would answer me.

Lost in my thoughts I didn’t even saw him coming home after practice. I was sitting on our huge white couch when I saw him dropping him gym bag on the floor and standing right in front of me.

“Hey chère” he greeted me “what are you doing? you seem lost in your thoughts” he asked me sitting right next to me.

“What if your family doesn’t like me? Or worse…what if they hate me?”

He laughed but then got serious when he saw my worried state.

“They could never hate you”

“How do you know?”

“I know it because I love you! And they will love you too! My brothers already know so much about you and my mum…well she seems scary but I promise you she’s not, she will love you as much as I do!” he said wrapping me in his huge arms.

We stayed there for a couple of minutes just enjoying each other’s presence.

“Adri…” I called him.

“Oui ma chère?” he answered me in french and then everything came up to me. I can’t speak french! I only know the numbers from 1 to 5 because of a stupid game Adrien made me play when we were both drunk.

“I can’t speak french…” I whispered hoping he didn’t heard me. I was wrong tho, in fact he did heard me.

“Is that what you’re worried about?”

“Obviously! How can they like me if we don’t even speak the same language?” I screamed.

Okay I was overreacting but I was very worried. This is my first serious relationship and I don’t want to screw up everything.

“I can teach you if that’s what you want” he said looking at me smiling.

“You sure?”

“Oui mon amour” he said and then he kissed my forehead.

“Why don’t we order dinner and then you can start teaching me? I said standing up ready to get my phone to order dinner.

Looking at his face I knew he agreed.

___________________________

Two hours ago I thought it was a good idea but now my brain was about to explode.

Who thought french was so complicated?

“Okay repeat after me” he said “bonjour, je m’appelle y/n”

“Bonjjj- why is it so complicated Adri?” I asked almost giving up.

He looked at me and hugged me “it’s normal, it’s not easy to learn a new language in just one night” he kissed my cheek “you’re doing great”.

I know it wasn’t true, he was just trying to comfort me and it wasn’t working.

“Let’s try again, bonjour, je m’appelle y/n” he said with his beautiful accent.

“Bonjour, je m’appelle y/n” I said hoping it sounded similar to what he said.

“It was perfect!” he said kissing me “now say this…c’est un plaisir de vous rencontrer”

“C’est un plaisir de vous rencontrer” I said with more confidence.

And then we continue all night long forgetting that he has training tomorrow morning.

________________________

The day before I met his family we only spoke french. From morning to night.

“Bonjour mon amour” I said to him before he left for training.

He smiled at me and proceed to answer me in french.

Was I feeling more confident about meeting his family? Maybe.

Having Adrien by my side meant nothing could go wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonjour = good morning

Chère = honey, sweetie

Je m’appelle = my name is

C’est un plaisir de vous rencontrer = it’s nice to meet you

I studied french a couple of years ago but forgot mostly everything about it lol.

English is not my first language so please let me know if I made some mistake.

[maddiesbookshelves]

A Court of Thorns and Roses (#1-3) by Sarah J. Maas (August 2022)

Feyre's survival rests upon her ability to hunt and kill – the forest where she lives is a cold, bleak place in the long winter months. So when she spots a deer in the forest being pursued by a wolf, she cannot resist fighting it for the flesh. But to do so, she must kill the predator and killing something so precious comes at a price ... Dragged to a magical kingdom for the murder of a faerie, Feyre discovers that her captor, his face obscured by a jewelled mask, is hiding far more than his piercing green eyes would suggest. Feyre's presence at the court is closely guarded, and as she begins to learn why, her feelings for him turn from hostility to passion and the faerie lands become an even more dangerous place. Feyre must fight to break an ancient curse, or she will lose him forever.

Would I recommend it to anyone? I want one of my friends to read it so she can be salty about it, it would be very funny.

Level of (dis)satisfaction based on the summary and my expectations? I knew very well what I was getting into, since this was a re-reading. I got what I wanted out of it: a good laugh and reasons not to read the 4th book. Or another SJM book.

My thoughts on it? Well. Let's just say that it's good if you're looking to put your brain on the side and read some smut. But just because the plot has as many holes as Swiss emmental doesn't mean there aren't serious topics: you've got anger management issues, dubious consent, weird sex scenes, passages that make you wonder why the books haven't been Cancelled™️ yet, deaths, blood, PTSD and trauma in general.

I has really liked those books a few years ago, they helped me get out of a years-long reading slump, but it isn't the kind of book I enjoy reading today. Then again, it's really not the worst. It's readable, even if not very well written, it doesn't really make sense sometimes but it gets the job done.

French version under the cut

Est-ce que tu le conseillerais à quelqu’un ? Je veux qu’une de mes amies le lise et déverse tout son sel parce que ça serait très drôle.

En chassant dans les bois enneigés, Feyre voulait seulement nourrir sa famille. Mais elle a commis l'irréparable en tuant un Fae, et la voici emmenée de force à Prythian, royaume des immortels.

Là-bas, pourtant, sa prison est un palais magnifique et son geôlier n'a rien d'un monstre. Tamlin, un Grand Seigneur Fae, la traite comme une princesse. Et quel est ce mal qui ronge le royaume et risque de s'étendre à celui des mortels ? A l'évidence, Feyre n'est pas une simple prisonnière. Mais comment une jeune humaine d'origine aussi modeste pourrait-elle venir en aide à de si puissants seigneurs ? Sa liberté, en tout cas, semble être à ce prix.

Niveau de déception/satisfaction par rapport au résumé et tes attentes ? Je savais très bien ce que j'allais lire, c'est une relecture, donc bon. J'ai eu ce que je voulais : j'ai rigolé et je me suis passé l'envie de lire le 4. Ou même un autre livre de Sarah J. Maas.

Avis sans spoiler ? Alors. Disons que c'est bien si tu veux poser ton cerveau et lire un peu de smut. Mais c'est pas parce que l'histoire est aussi trouée qu'un emmental suisse qu'y a pas des sujets plus sérieux : on a des problèmes de gestion de la colère, du consentement douteux, des scènes de sexe encore plus douteuses, des passages qui te font te demander pour le livre a pas été Cancelled™️, des morts, du sang, du stress post-traumatique et du trauma de manière générale.

J'avais beaucoup aimé y'a quelques années et ça m'a aidé à sortir de la période où je lisais plus du tout, mais c'est pas le genre de bouquin que j'apprécie aujourd'hui. Après, c'est vraiment pas le pire. Ça se lit, même si c'est pas très bien écrit et que ça tient pas forcément la route, ça fait le taff.

[outsidesoap]

three months in between

Between the airport and Planet China, so much has happened.

AKA: perhaps my first time writing fan fic

Canon, but liberties taken with the characters!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Minutes after Vivian leaves, Wil thinks about texting her.

She types a simple: "hope you have a safe flight", before deleting it, remembering how Vivian walked away from her, never once looking back.

A day after Vivian leaves, Wil finds herself by the Hudson river during her lunch break.

For the luxury of being able to sit by the water-- rather than in a cold break room full of pagers beeping--, she had promised her coworker an extra pack of M&Ms.

She thinks about hot dogs -- packed with carcinogens, Vivian, and how the first time they sat close together, Vivian sneakily intertwined a pinky around her pinky. Wil remembers jumping, almost dropping her hotdog, and Vivian's ensuing laughter. The next time Vivian reached for her hand, Wil tried to calm her heartbeat and forced the waves in her ears to die down.

A week after Vivian leaves, Wil's mom moves out. Xiao Yu comes to help carry over some boxes to the new apartment, and Wil willingly ignores the lovesick look he gives to her mom, and the pitying ones he sends when he looks her way.

When all has settled, and Wil is left alone in her apartment for the first time in half a year, she looks around. Her mom had left the red bedsheets, insisting it was good luck, and many containers filled with food. Wil finds herself 'tsk tsk tsk'ing at how her mother left as she came in -- a storm, almost as if she was moving things around with wild abandon, unearthing objects that Wil thought would be lost forever. That's how Wil finds herself looking at the flowers Vivian brought by, three weeks ago, when meeting Wil's mom for the very first time. The flowers were put in a new vase recently, the water inside still fresh and plentiful. 

Suddenly, the walls of the apartment feel as though they're closing in, and Wil just about bursts through the doors and into the hallway in time. She knocks on Jay's door, and before he even is able to greet her, she asks: "Can we go grab a drink?"

Her always-reliable friend nods, and they head out to the bar around the corner.

Around the third beer, Jay nudges Wil and points to a girl at the bar. Wil's heart stops for a second, her beer-fogged brain mistaking brown hair for black, before noticing the face is different. The girl winks, and Wil, in her desire to stop comparing her--anyone, everyone-- to Vivian, smiles back.

That night, as Wil lies in her bed with the girl next to her, her stomach churning either with regret or the beers that she drank, she looks over and spots those flowers again. It's been three weeks. Wil wonders why they haven't died yet.

A month after Vivian leaves, Wil texts her for the first time.

It's simple, a "Hello, how is Paris?" kind of text.

Nothing like what Wil wants to say, which is -- "Hello, I miss you and love you, and at night, I think of your face and your touch."

Vivian never responds, and Wil starts spending all of her time either at work or at the bar.

Two months after Vivian leaves, Wil realizes she may or may not be dating someone.

Jessica is, well, nice. They were set up by Wil's coworkers, telling Wil that they were a match made in heaven-- "You'll love her, she works as a teacher", "She loves going on walks around the city", and "Her health is nearly perfect, *and* she's got 20/20 vision". Wil decides last minute to go on the date, and it's nice. Jessica is shy like Wil, polite, and doesn't push or prod when Wil refuses to answer questions about her ex. Wil thinks that they could be a good couple together.

Two and a half months after Vivian leaves, Wil is single again.

It ended amicably. Jessica had asked to meet Wil's mom, and that idea brought back the time Vivian met Wil's mom. The flowers Vivian had brought still rested in a vase on Wil's kitchen table, now slightly wilted. After that, Wil couldn’t stop comparing the two. Jessica is shy, whereas Vivian was bold. Polite, whereas Vivian was sarcastic. Jessica never pushed or prodded, and knew little to nothing about Wil, besides where she worked and if she liked it (the answer: a “yes” on some days, a “no” on other days). Vivian knew everything about Wil after the first date, asking question after question as they perused men's clothing at a thrift store. And so, Wil decides she has no choice but to break it off. Jessica is sad, but not surprised, and when Wil walks away, she doesn't look back.

Three months after Vivian leaves, Wil is at Planet China again.

Her mom had insisted that she come, an odd thing to insist on, since her mom’s main topics of conversation are about the baby, the apartment, and Xiao Yu. Wil figures that maybe an engagement was to be announced, so she better show up. Her mom fusses over what Wil's wearing -- so boyish, not flattering at all -- but Wil couldn't care less. It wasn't her engagement announcement. As she walks through the door, she's instantly swarmed by aunties and uncles, people she hasn't seen in the past few months, asking about her job, her (lack of a) boyfriend, and everything else in between. Deflecting questions, she tries to slip out of the swarm and finds herself on the edge of the dance floor. Looking across, she spots someone.

Three months after Vivian leaves, Wil sees her again.

This time, it's actually her. They lock eyes, and the room freezes. Wil can see the anger flash through Vivian's eyes, and can read Vivian's lips as Vivian mutters to her mom, "I thought you said she didn't come here anymore". Wil takes a deep breath, and starts to make her way through the crowd.

Three months after Vivian leaves, Wil stands in front of her.

"Dance with me." Wil says, and her eyes say much more.

After a brief pause, the anger leaves Vivian’s eyes, replaced by tenderness. 

"There's no music," Vivian says slyly.

Three months after Vivian leaves, and finally in Vivian's arms again, Wil feels at peace.

[memoirsofaseraph]

Hi baby,

It’s been a while, right? I missed you really much. I missed pouring my thoughts out to you here. I meant to write something special for your birthday but the words just wouldn’t come out, for some reason. I think it was the nerves, maybe the anticipation too. I felt so stressed out about your birthday, and I’ve never been stressed out for anyone’s birthday before. November 20th was a very, very, very special day. My favorite day of this month. I know you don’t really care about your birthday and stuff but I do, I want to make your next birthdays even more special. I wanted you to have a nice and fun day and I wanted you to be soooooo happy at the end of it, I hope I succeeded at doing this. I know I’m a day late but still, I wish you the happiest birthday of birthdays ever (again). Je suis très contente d’être celle avec qui tu as été coincé toute cette journée et avec qui tu passeras tous tes prochains anniversaires.

I also want to respond to your last entry.  I find it so crazy that you had this dream and that you told me about it only yesterday night — even though you dreamed about it a couple of nights ago because... well... it’s your turn to bear with me. Yesterday evening, before going to bed and having our usual little date night, I was just sitting there, lost in my thoughts (more like overthinking, really), and I had this thought like "Please, give me a sign if things are gonna work out for me". I told you I’ve been praying for this and hoping it would turn into reality and bla bla bla, right? But waiting is hard, real hard. It’s like the hardest part of the process. So I was trying to make it better, to make it more bearable, I guess. And asking for a sign that would potentially mean that I would go made me feel a little better. But I wasn’t really expecting anything, I was just wishing for it. Having faith gave me a semblance of peace. But then, the fact that you had this dream and that you told me about it right after I asked for a sign… Literally a few hours later. Am I overreacting or is that really crazy? I genuinely think it’s so insane. I know it could be a silly coincidence because that’s all I’ve been talking about, so it’s no surprise your brain would make you dream about it. Like I manifested this to happen in your dream. However, this timing? It made me pause. So, even though it might be nothing significant, I just needed to remind you how much of a lucky charm you are for me, all the time. Even now. Look at this? The way things seem to align for me ever since you came into my life is crazy. And it’s not even only about me getting things or things working out for me, it’s also about how much you put my mind at ease, even when it's in its messiest state. How much peace you bring to me, every day. That's so very precious to me and it matters so much.

And I just wanted to thank you for always being here, for always showing up as my little lucky charm, especially when my anxiety is at its peak (which is when I’m the most annoying and overwhelming, I'm sorry). Even beyond the coincidences and the wishes, you just have this incredible ability to understand me like nobody else does, to really see me. It's like you see through the mess my head is, at all times. And you know exactly what to do or say to calm me down, even subconsciously. Just like you did right now, when you told me about your dream. I really hope I do the same for you. I hope I make life easier for you, and I hope I ease your mind as much as you ease mine.

I love you, so much. I have so much more to say. So many thoughts spinning in my head all at once that desperately need to come out but I’m lacking time, again. I’m always lacking time, and I’m so sorry. I love and miss you, baby. I really hope my words were able to keep you a little company while I’m not there. I wish I could be with you right now. But I’m thinking of you, always. Even when I’m sleeping.

I love you.

[castle-dominion]

c3x24 knockout. Wasn't the last episode in this storyline knockout too? No, knockdown.

Plot heavy episode, after all, it is the finale.

RC: Hey, guys, I could use a hand. *Esposito & Ryan applaud* Ryan wearing a sweater again. Weekly is v often. their faces drop when they mention him

The ring <3 Lol the "special" & the "usual" & the excellent choice madame. I love it. An hour ago today? Why they all cheering? Oh bc he's the cop. "He" was going to get around to me Ugh he gives him a minute & lays down politely, like this is honestly so respectful of a murder. He's have more blood probably. I remember looking like that. I am now remembering that. You know, for weeks, possibly even a month or several months I could smell blood. The first day, even the first week bc i was still healing, I thought that the smell of blood was just there for real. The bathroom must have smelled like metal; iron & copper; idk how my family didn't notice anything. Maybe it was all in my head now that I think about it. Then later I realized that it was just a hallucination. Sometimes I'd get a whiff of blood & it would remind me of that night, other times I would remember it & suddenly I could smell it. Again, in the earlier days I thought that maybe the smell was real & I just didn't notice it until I thought about it. Figuring out I was getting hallucinations shocked me. Did I just give myself ptsd? I wish I had a photo. I considered it but my phone was in the other room & I wasn't going to go get it. All that blood. Looking back, even tho I'm (sort of) clean now, I want that photo. I wanted a reference for murder scenes in my writing or in drawing, I wanted to see the progress of what I had done, now that I can't remember it as well I want to know what it really looked like & how far I actually got. I used to get nauseous every time I thought about it, even though I was fine with gore. Now all I have is the scar. You know, I used to make jokes when picking raspberries or cutting beets, I said it looked like a murder scene. During this time I realized how wrong I was. Anyway I wrote a fictional story basically transcribing my experiences, just so I'd have a record of it if my memory faded, it was already getting muddy when I wrote it. Now reading it I can barely see it. I remember it though. I remember it. At least I don't get blood olfactory hallucinations anymore. Back to the episode!

Wow it's been four months? Yeah he has an employer. idek who that employer is. Wait if she was 16 & it's been 12 years then she's only 28... alexis is 17 & if he had her at minimum 18 that would be 35 minimum. Well that fits the half plus seven rule. She's 28? 21x2=42 which sounds just as accurate for castle tbh. Yeah cool. Tho tbh the half plus seven rule does fall apart the more you age since people's brains still go thru development phases even tho the most & biggest were from ages -1 to 25.

He technically isn't hal lockwood hence why they called him john doe. OH NO FLASHBANGS. Those things are not good. Even the guys breaking him out would have been affected, even if they covered their ears & closed their eyes. (You only have two hands, two would have to be for your ears & so all you can do is close ur eyes & even so it is bright & loud & there is a physical boom. She asks "where" but how does the lady know what she means? Where is it safe? Where did they go? Where are you hurt? Poor helicopter guy. was he piloting?

Just like, check ur inbox? Can't be real names, must be code. That's why espt made that face! Just like my Mumma! She has her emergency radio license or smth like that. She's the one who taught me the nato phoenetic alphabet. Having seen this. His face when the third cop is mentioned. they were just talking abt street justice cops & monty is saying they should take him out rn rn.

JE: He says he wouldn’t have even known anybody had used it if it weren’t for the bullet holes. XD Does she know or is she speculating? No ofc she is not, but she is ok enough & ok enough to work.

Jim Beckett! & This will be the scene from the deleted scenes in the previous episode. You're so right Mr Beckett. Her life is def worth more than her mom's death. I love Jim sm. Here is his quote btw: What happens when she finds him? I’ve already lost my wife over this. I’ve already lost – (he stops) No, look. It took me years, but I’ve made my peace with that. But Katie? She won’t listen to me. And she won’t back down. Not unless someone can convince her that her life is worth more than her mother’s death.

& wow both her parents are lawyers, she was even considering becoming a lawyer. No wonder she's so pretty & educated.

Didn't sleep at all or slept a little bit? No, not Ryker!

He gon be dead. Yep he dead.

That's why the wound is so bad, GSWs are so much worse in the exit wound Death fist 4 poster (btw I like how ryan takes off his tie & stuff when he wears his vest, unbuttons a bit)

See? If u treat someone with respect then they respect u too. Aw that's actually kinda sweet. Crushing on Beckett.

Ok our theory is currently that the third cop is the employer, the one holding lockwood's leash Ok that's valid you've been angry over johanna's death for twelve years but also ryan was frickin tortured by this guy I think he wants him around as much as u do, esp since he's also mad on your behalf (tho ig she could also be mad on his behalf then...)

I like ryan's elbow patches. (Suit tie & jeans) What was that little look from ryan? Keep in mind I've seen this before, when I say this: {RM is encouraging them to find the third cop, claiming that the 3c must have the money to hire dick coonan to clean up the mess} Yeah they've been here all day & between the four of them a six pack isn't too much. It's late. They deserve it. JE walking in with a case of beer behind his back: Sir. Uh, I know we're still officially on duty, but RM: Authorized KR: Sláinte (health in Gaeilge; pronounced slAn-chuh)* RC: Nice work. Ooh, those are cold. These are really cold. KR : Yeah, we keep them in evidence, refrigerated storage. (they just keep booze in refrigerated evidence storage??) RC: Isn't that where you keep the-- JE: Don't worry about it. RC: (*Irish Gaelic is pronounced (in English) 'gay-lik'. The (Scottish) Gaelic name for (Scottish) Gaelic is Gàidhlig, pronounced 'gaa-lik', not to be confused with the Irish (Gaelic) name for Irish (Gaelic), which is written Gaeilge and pronounced 'gail-gyuh'.) (clipping)

Beer: *casually reveals smth* Calls him a dirtbag SOB, {like my dude, y r u sending em out to find that info?} ((We get to see the meeting in a future season!)) Love. Everyone knows they love each other.

That rubber tree plant The kiss was for a disguise & frozen in each other's arms was for wamrth & bc friends can do that too! She's right tho, it IS her life. (just like the s8 premier) It is the end of s3 so it has been 3 years now? (maybe 2.5 bc the first season was short?) You deserve to be happy, but in that tone? Ooh How over? He is not going to abandon you.

Man's angry! Martha <3 <3 I can see how he might feel it is his fault even tho he's not the one trying to kill everyone. He drug it back up. (could clip but I won't)

I love when she calls him by his first name, it is so intense & personal, he is her second dad. He supports her so much so well. He really is good for her, helping her laugh, bringing in outside ideas... Hug her. acab lol But seriously hug her. You are her dad.

Old guys, probably retired they say. Miami! Wow ryan's cheekbones in this lighting... KR says he DOESN'T believe a "badge" is behind this. (Metonymy) {keep this detail in mind} (But then ryan is the first to crack abt you know who)

Oh no he's the third cop isn't he? {yeah he is} lol order off the menu (so roy made a deal with The Big Bad Guy to protect beckett) He would SO be found out B'y god's got nothing to do with this

What about the son? The way u hold someone intimately lets you put a thumb over their lips & kiss them That's an old timey gun. I like it. Another old timey gun.

Wow it's already been all day! Nothing eventful happened all day... At least miami dade got back to them this evening. Going out w/o telling her? I mean ok.

Big sad.

Bro's still wearing an nypd sweatshirt? Tight is a good word. Some rookie? Young enough to not be retired yet Could he have maybe misremembered the name if there were 40 others he needed to know the names of too & it's been 10 years? Montague maybe? He looks so baby *gulp* Rips up the photo, tbh that's rude

[JE is walking out into the alley] KR Hey! You know it's him. (He looks like he's about to cry.) Montgomery's our third cop. He's the one who altered those records. JE How can you even say that? How can you even think that?! Montgomery brought us on to Homicide! What do we got? A picture!?! KR (whispered/strained) Think about it. (Nromal but strained) Why else did he want us to take Lockwood out? Because Lockwood leads us to him! (Hun he told u to go after the third cop.) He's been lying to us. (Espt also looks like he might cry.) He's been lying to us the whole time. [JE shakes his head, mouthing what I think is "I'm out" & turns around to start walking away.] KR Hey! [Ryan grabs Espt's shoulder] JE Get off me! [Espt punches Ryan & turns around again. They fight. KR grabs him from the back & pushes him into the wall/truck/whatever that thing is. Espt pushes around & gets Ryan pinned to the truck with his hands on his shirt. & not in a sexy way. JE is yelling, holding KR's face & has his fist next to his head.] KR Go ahead! Go ahead! [JE throws Ryan's head to the side as he lets him go. They both lean against the wall, breathing heavily. They both look emotionally ruined.] KR Beckett.

AAAAAAGHHDSKJFSDHJ THIS IS MAKING ME INSANE & then they just don't talk about it.

Please don't let him be the one to kill her Girl set ur phone to vibrate, u'r a cop, this stuff can be dangerous. Why cock the gun? You can't put your family thru going to jail but this happens? (So babe you uh, don't they have ballistics for all nypd guns? when they pull the slug?)

A second chance <3 Who is the "he" They might have come even if Beckett didn't show up, as long as he said he got her there. Then again, they were probs watching. He is her dad so much Good on him to bring in Castle (of all people, he brought castle, even after kicking castle out) Oof this is where I stand They probs saw three figures there & probs even know he means to kill them. Castle is great he just picked her up like that! She was flailing & kicking & he just did what the captain said! Beauty!

(so lockwood has a bunch of people here too? Lockwood is not The Only One y'all) So there are four ppl there. Didn't they kill the two guys with Lockwood during the previous relevant episode? KB & RC came in to save JE & KR & they ended up shooting two of lockwood's people? Now lockwood has four more. Shoot from the hip... RM: You got that ass-backwards, boy, you can't hide from me.

love how they brought back the ass backwards line How did he shoot all of them so fast? Also with a gun like that wouldn't he have to cock it every time? Or maybe not, it was old fashioned, not old. It probably has the mechanism set so that the back thingy & the trigger are attached to pull back too. lockwood got shot, he's back up & running now? Love the music btw. Noooo not behindy! I saw to that. You're done, Lockwood, we both are. & that's why he had a sixshot & a second gun! ...Which was just up his sleeve like that & definitely dangerous

How did u know that was the last shot? What if lockwood was still alive (again) & now he's coming to kill you? At least she is wearing short heels Check his pulse maybe?

Lol acab. I'd just as well watch the Helena music video.

Is this beckett's apatment? I can't tell. Family. Doesn't include his legal family tho apparently. & you have accepted castle back? You know it's weird, Espt & Ryan are like Becket's little brothers (& big brothers) sometimes, they give Castle the cold shoulder in defense of Beckett; other times they are brothers with Castle, they have said "mom & dad [are] fighting" as if caskett is a relationship & those two are the kids, sometimes the captain is the dad. It's just so good to me. So good. Found family is lowkey cliche but I love it still. (But this means u can't tell alexis, martha, lanie, jim, or anyone, bc they are extended "family" not immediate "family" right?)

Who's the guy behind Espt there? Also why didn't Esposito shave?? I feel like Castle should be wearing a hat, just to fit in. Not a hat like theirs, but some sort of trilby maybe. Tbh I really like seeing the pigs in their blankets. Not only because I like fancy stuff (I say wearing the same dirty jeanjacket with holes in it like some crustpunk) but also bc I like seeing them in hats, speaking as a hat wearer myself. & who's the guy behind Ryan?

Crying quietly, 👌 love it You don't necessarily owe it to him, you owe it to his family, you owe it to them to get the pension & access to the widows+orphans fund & w/e.

I like how they let Castle carry the casket even tho he is not a cop. Ok my man definitely needs a hat, he really looks out of place. Aw the poor family. yk acab even tho he be dead. I mean best wishes to him & the families+friends. Like tbh big acab moments. A huge funeral for him? Ok how many ppl there actually knew him personally? How much of this is just because he was a fellow enforcer of the law? How much of it is REAL & how much of it enforces an institution where brotherhood takes priority? Btw did they teach castle how to do the proper stepping for the fancy parts of walking around & turning the way they do? I thought Royce did that. KB: You might find someone to stand with you *looks over to Rick* How did rick actually see that tho? I'm glad he didn't jump in front of a bullet, it hit her first. ALSO LANIE BEING HELP BACK BY ESPOSITO Girl that's not how you save someone. U might want to put pressure on the wound or wear gloves if u have any (like airplanes) & do NOT put your hands on the grass like that

Ok cool. Now I'm actually going to watch season one bc I never had the chance to liveblog that.

Ok now I've also gathered all my clips from s3 yay

[marauders-venting]

Pardon My French

pairing: wolfstar (sirius x remus)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

words: 3556

note: thank you to @ probably_wizardingworld_artist on instagram for helping me translate things into french. also i got some of the lines that sirius says from this website https://www.fluentu.com/blog/french/french-pick-up-lines/

a/n: if you dont speak french (like me) dont look up a translation! everything will be clear by the end of the fic and its more fun if you find out along with remus. i mean, i cant really stop you if you want to translate the sentences but thats just my advice :)

Remus was sitting in the library, a French to English dictionary open on his lap, sighing in frustration as he flipped through the pages. For the past couple of weeks, Sirius had taken to murmuring things in French under his breath and it drove Remus crazy that he didn’t know what they meant. He had asked Sirius on several occasions but Sirius always refused to tell him. But the fact that he didn’t understand the words wasn’t the only reason it drove him crazy when Sirius spoke French. It’s not Remus’ fault that Sirius sounds really hot when his lips curve around the words in “the language of love”.

Remus tries not to think about it but it’s becoming increasingly more difficult because every time they’re alone together Sirius seems to find something to say in French (if only to piss Remus off).

The last time Sirius had said something in French to him had been last weekend. It was the first sunny weekend since the winter and Marlene had suggested that they all go down to the lake for a swim.

Remus’ brain could barely form a single coherent thought from the moment Sirius took off his shirt; he was too busy trying not to stare. He remembered jumping into the lake and trying to get warm by swimming to the far side, away from all his friends. Sirius had followed him to make sure he was okay.

“I’m fine,” he had said, smiling slightly at Sirius. “Just cold.”

“Oh okay,” Sirius said, looking relieved. He had glanced back at their friends before whispering, “On devrait t’arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique” and submerging his head in the water and swimming back to James, Peter, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas, Mary and Alice. Remus had felt a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Then there was the time that Sirius had skipped Quidditch practice to visit Remus in the hospital wing after a particularly bad full moon. James, being the captain, had been able to delay the practice so that he and Peter could come to visit as well but they had to practice for the game the following day. James had to be at the practice because he was the captain and Peter had to be there because they didn’t have another Keeper to fill in. But James had given Sirius permission to stay with Remus (which showed just how terrible he felt that he couldn’t stay as well). They watched a bit of the practice from the hospital wing but Remus was getting frustrated, having to stay in a hospital bed for so long. So, after clearing it with Madam Pomfrey, Sirius helped Remus climb all the way to the Astronomy Tower. They sat up there watching the sunset when Sirius said, “Il y a tellement de soleil dans tes yeux que je bronze quand tu me regardes.”

“Ugh, do you make it your life goal to patronize me?” Remus had said.

“Of course, Moony, what else would I live for?”

“Are you ever going to stop doing that?” he asked.

“Probably not,” Sirius had replied, grinning at him. “It’s too much fun.”

“Why do you even bother?” Remus said. “You know I don’t understand a single word of what you’re saying. Why don’t you go talk to someone who speaks French?”

“Because then they’d know what I was saying,” Sirius replied simply. He had refused to answer any more of his questions.

Remus had needed to spend that night in the hospital wing again. All night, Sirius’ voice rang through his head but every time he tried to make something coherent of it, actually words or letters or even sounds, he couldn’t. He could never remember what Sirius had said long enough to actually look it up or ask anyone.

But lately, Remus had noticed that Sirius had been repeating the same sentence in French practically every day. He recognises the sound of the words in Sirius’ mouth.

So today, Remus waited until he was alone with Sirius, waited for Sirius to say what Remus knew he would. And when he did Remus repeated the words in his head a million times until he remembered them. And now Remus was in the library and looking up the words in a dictionary. 

He knew that he could’ve gone to Lily and asked her to translate it for him but he didn’t want to. He knows it’s stupid but he feels like this is something that Sirius is saying to him and only to him. Remus had never heard Sirius whisper in French to anyone else. And as much as Remus pretended to be annoyed by it, he actually liked that he had this with Sirius. He liked that they had something that was just their own. And even though it was probably nothing, he didn’t want to share it with Lily right now.

Chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi. That was the sentence. Remus looked up each word individually and came to the conclusion that he must have heard wrong or maybe the words were spelt differently to how they were pronounced. Because there was no way in hell that Sirius had said these words to him. It was impossible. Right? Remus didn’t know. And he knew that the only way he could be sure was by asking Lily. He had asked Sirius a million times to no avail. And he needs to know what Sirius has been saying to him, especially now that there’s a chance… No, Remus tells himself, you just translated wrong. Don’t get your hopes up. So Remus gives in. He’d rather ask Lily and find out what Sirius has been saying to him every day for the last month than keep this to himself without even understanding it.

“Hey Lily,” he started, getting her attention. Remus had waited until the two of them were alone, just in case he had translated right. Which he hadn’t. He knows he translated it wrong. But he’d still rather nobody knew about it. “What does ‘chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi’ mean?” He fumbled across the words a bit, hearing how terrible his pronunciation was. Lily looked at him, her eyebrows raised.

“Where on earth did you hear that sentence?” she asked.

“I read it somewhere,” Remus lied easily. “So what does it mean?”

“It means ‘every day, I fall more in love with you.’” Remus’ jaw dropped open. “Remus, who told you they’re in love with you?”

“What? Nobody! What makes you think someone said that to me?”

“You said that you read that sentence somewhere but if you had read it, you would have no idea how to pronounce it. Besides the look on your face when I told you what it means is more than enough. So who was it?”

“None of your business,” he said. “But y–you’re kidding, right? That’s not actually what it means. Right?”

“No, I’m not kidding, Rem. That’s what it means,” she replied, laughing at the look on his face. “Come on, tell me who it was.”

“No fucking way,” Remus said. “Besides, they’re probably joking. I mean… no, they’re definitely joking.” Lily shrugged.

“Just ask them,” she said. “And then you have to tell me who your secret admirer is.” She poked him in the side.

“Stooooop,” he said, jumping away from her and laughing against his will. “I’m going.” He got up and started walking away.

“Have fun with your mystery lover,” she called after him without looking back. Remus rolled his eyes but his mind was racing. So apparently he hadn’t been wrong. That was what Sirius had said to him. What does this even mean? He’s teasing you, said a voice in his head, like always. Sirius doesn’t love you. Not like that. But he said he does. Don’t be stupid. Sirius isn’t in love with you. He’s joking. Like always.

The next time Sirius said it, they were in the Room of Requirement. Sirius had ambushed Remus in the middle of his prefect rounds with Lily levitating a cardboard box in midair. Typical. He had practically given Remus a heart attack by interrupting his conversation with Lily, leaving Remus to wonder just how much of the conversation he had overheard.

“So have you talked to your mystery French lover yet?” Lily had teased. Remus groaned.

“No, I haven’t,” he said. “And I probably won’t.”

“Why not?” Lily demanded. “They’re being very romantic, Remus, you should at least appreciate their effort.”

“I’d appreciate it more if they’d just tell me what the fuck they want instead of sending me coded messages that they know I don’t understand,” Remus grumbled.

“Moonyyyyy,” Sirius said, coming up from behind him. Remus jumped, turning around, heart racing in his chest.

“Sirius? What are you doing here?” he asked. “You know it’s after hours, right?” Sirius snorted.

“Yes, Remus, I am fully aware of the fact that I’m breaking a school rule,” he said, smirking.

“Are you aware that technically Remus and I have to turn you in?” Lily said.

“Ah, but do you really plan on doing that, Evans?” Sirius asked.

“That depends,” she replied. “Why are you here?”

“Right,” Sirius remembered, then he turned to Remus. “James forgot to put this box with the rest of the stuff for tomorrow so I said I’d take it. And you’re coming with me.”

“Remind me why again?” Remus said.

“Moony, come on, don’t make me go alone. I’ll be lonely,” Sirius pouted.

“You are insufferable, did you know that?”

“And yet, you’ve tolerated me for 6 years now.”

“Yeah, the keyword there is ‘tolerated’,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “Lils…” he started, turning to her.

“Nope,” she said before he could even ask. “No way. You are not leaving me to do these rounds alone because then I’ll die of boredom. So unless you want me to tell McGonagall that your planning something for tomorrow, you’re going to finish this floor with me and then I’ll go back to the common room and you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Evans…” Sirius pouted.

“Nope, that’s non-negotiable, Black. Also, do I want to ask?” She gestured to the hovering box.

“The less you know, the better,” he said. “Although, I would avoid the classrooms near the dungeons tomorrow if I were you.” She nodded and Remus thought he saw her smile slightly for a second.

“You go on, I’ll catch up,” he said to Sirius, knowing that Lily’s mind would not be changed. He couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t have let her leave him to finish this chore alone either. She was right, it was painstakingly boring. Which is why he would much rather be with Sirius. But it was only fair that he finished tonight’s rounds with her; she did cover for him around the full moon, after all.

Sirius pouted but knew better than to argue and turned to go to the Room of Requirement. Remus watched him and he disappeared up a flight of stairs. Only then did he notice Lily was smirking at him.

“What?” he asked, sounding a bit defensive.

“So Sirius is your secret French admirer?” she said.

“W–What?” he spluttered. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, for one, the look on your face when he showed up right behind us while we were talking about your mystery lover,” Lily said. “It was the look people make when you’ve just been talking about someone and then they show up and you’re worried that they may have overheard you.”

“That… is a very specific look,” Remus said, avoiding the question she was asking.

“Then you smiled at him when you called him insufferable,” she said.

“So?”

“So it was one of those I’m-smiling-at-you-while-I’m-teasing-you-cause-I’m-secretly-in-love-with-you smiles.”

“Again, that's a very specific expression,” he said.

“Look, I know you like him, so will you just admit it already?”

“Why? What good would that information do you? It’s for me to worry about and for Sirius to never discover, ever.”

“Remus, you’re kidding, right?” she said. “Sirius literally told you that he loves you, in French no less.”

“Exactly, Lily. In French. If he actually meant it, why would he say it in a language that he knows I don’t understand? He just knew that I would look it up and he wanted to make some joke.”

“I really don’t think so, Remus,” Lily said, shaking her head. “I think he really loves you.”

“He doesn’t,” Remus said. “He can’t. Not like that.”

“Remus, do you love him?” she asked. Remus closed his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I love him.”

“So why are you doing this to yourself? Just ask him what he meant when he said it. You don’t even have to tell him anything, just ask him what he meant.”

“But… what if he says it was a joke?”

“First of all, I don’t think he will,” Lily said. “But if he does, that’s what you’re expecting, isn’t it? It won’t be a surprise or anything.”

“I know, I know, I just…” Remus sighed and looked away from her. “I don’t think I’m ready to hear him say it. To be properly rejected.”

“Oh, Rem,” she said. They had reached the end of the corridor and Lily stopped to hug him. “Obviously I’m not going to make you do anything. You know what I think. Go find Sirius now, he’ll be waiting for you. Do what you think is right.”

“Yeah,” Remus said, hugging her back. “Yeah, okay.” So Lily went in the direction of the common room and Remus went to the Room of Requirement.

He found Sirius sitting with his back against the wall, the box beside him.

“You’re an idiot,” Remus told him, trying to put the conversation with Lily out of his mind. “You’re practically begging to get caught.” Sirius shrugged.

“I was waiting for you,” he said. “Come on, let’s go in.” They paced back and forth in front of the wall three times. We need a place to hide our things, Remus thought. A door appeared and Sirius opened it, leading the box in with his wand. They had been here before to hide loads of things. The room was pretty cluttered from years of students dumping their things in it but they knew where exactly to hide the box so that they’d be able to find it tomorrow when they needed it. Remus followed Sirius through aisles upon aisles of junk, looking at all the broken, discarded things people threw in here.

They found the corner where they’d left everything else and Sirius added the box to the rest of the pile.

“Are we done here?” Remus asked.

“Yep, we can leave now,” Sirius said. They had started walking back towards the door when Remus heard Sirius say it from behind him.

“Chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi.” Remus turns to him and stops him in his tracks.

“Pads, why do you keep saying that? Who are you talking to?”

“Remus, you are aware that you’re the only one here right? I’m talking to you.”

“Then why… why are you—?”

“I know, I know, you don’t understand French,” Sirius says. “That’s why it's fun. It’s amusing to know something that you don’t, for once.”

“Sirius… I know what that sentence means,” Remus says quietly. Sirius’ neck snaps up.

“What?”

“I know what that sentence means,” Remus repeats.

“No, you don’t,” Sirius says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I do. I asked Lily after the last time you said it. She translated for me.”

“Fuck, I didn’t know Lily could speak French,” Sirius says, rubbing a hand over his face. “So… so this whole time you’ve known what I’m saying? So you know that I… you know that I… oh god, Remus I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t want to… I was just…” Sirius starts to back away, shaking his head and looking anywhere but at Remus. Remus reaches out and grabs his hand.

“Don’t go,” Remus says. “Sirius. Is it a joke? Are you making a joke? Actually, no, don’t tell me. Cause if it’s a joke I’d rather you bury me under all the crap in this room and spare me the pain.”

“What?”

“It’s not a joke, is it?” Remus asked, a pleading look in his eyes.

“No,” Sirius said, softly. “It’s not a joke. I’m sorry, Remus, I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh,” Remus said, pressing a finger to Sirius’ lips. “Sirius,” Remus tucked Sirius’ hair behind his ear. Remus was vaguely aware of Sirius stepping towards him, towards his touch. “I love you, too.” Sirius gapes at him

“Really?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Remus says. He’s still holding Sirius’ hand. He pulls Sirius closer and lets his other hand graze Sirius’ cheek.

“Puis-je t'embrasser?” Sirius whispers.

“Pads, I… I don’t know what that means.” Sirius lets out a small laugh and looks down at the floor. Then he looks back up at Remus, his grey eyes glistening in the last sliver of sunlight. He’s biting his lip.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Remus says, without thinking. He feels the blush blooming on his cheeks but Sirius is already kissing him, rising on his tip-toes to make his lips reach Remus’. Remus feels electric currents dancing around his body, unable to contain the excitement. He’s kissing Sirius. Sirius is kissing him back. Sirius loves him. Sirius loves him in the same way that he loves Sirius. Sirius is snaking his hands around Remus’ waist pulling him closer. Sirius’ hair is soft, tangled between his fingers. Sirius is here, in his arms, and it’s everything Remus has been wanting and more.

“Wait, so now can you tell me everything you’ve been saying in French the whole time?” They’re sitting in the same large armchair, hands still linked together, legs tucked against their chests, knees and thighs and hips pressed together. Remus is very aware of every point where his skin is making contact with Sirius’. He’s counting them.

They found the armchair in the Room of Requirement; it’s unclear to them whether the chair is something that’s been dumped in the room by somebody else or if the room conjured it up because they were looking for it. 

Neither one of them wants to go back to the common room yet. Remus doesn’t want to see Lily’s smirk and to have to admit she was right at the moment. He’ll do that tomorrow. Right now, all he wants is to be with Sirius. To press little kisses to his nose, his cheeks, his jaw, his lips just because he can.

“Oh god,” Sirius says, burying his face in between Remus’ shoulder and the back of the armchair. “It’s like you want me to embarrass myself.”

“This surprises you?” Remus kisses the corner of his mouth. Then his jaw. Then his neck. Just because he can. “Please.”

“Ah fine,” Sirius gives in. “Um, what do you want to know?”

“What did you say that day at the lake?” Remus asks.

“Oh that. I said, ‘on devrait t’arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique’. It means uh… ugh, you’re going to laugh at me for this. It means ‘you should be arrested for excessive beauty in public’,” Sirius said, blushing. Remus rolled his eyes but he felt his cheeks heat too. He smiles a little.

“What about that day on the Astronomy Tower?” he continues.

“Ugh,” Sirius buries his face in his hands. “You’re trying to kill me. I said, ‘il y a tellement de soleil dans tes yeux que je bronze quand tu me regardes’. Which means, uh… ‘there’s so much sun in your eyes that I get a tan when you look at me.’”

“You’re quite the poet, aren’t you?” Remus smiles. “And what about tonight?”

“I thought you said you knew what that meant,” Sirius says. “Or were you bluffing the whole time?”

“No, I know what it means,” Remus says. “I just want to hear you say it. In English this time, please.”

“So demanding,” Sirius teases. “I’ve said it in French a million times already and you want me to say it in English? What difference does it make?”

“Well, none to you, you speak both languages.”

“Oh, alright,” Sirius says. It’s the first time Remus has seen his face really go red. He decides he likes it. “Every day I fall more in love with you.” Remus can’t hide his smile, nor does he want to, as he leans in to kiss Sirius. He brushes his lips against Sirius’ timidly before connecting them, his hand caressing Sirius’ cheek. Remus loses count of the points of contact between him and Sirius as their bodies melt together and Remus worries that he’s about to wake up from a dream. But when he feels Sirius’ hand gently tracing the scars on his hand he knows that this is real, that Sirius can really love him. Sirius does love him.

People come to the Room of Requirement to throw things away, to hide things that they don’t want anybody else to know about, to leave things they never want to see again. But that night, Remus didn’t just leave something in the Room of Requirement. He found something, too.

[alberivh]

The gravestone of the wilderness — (scraps)

diluc x gn!reader — fluff, angst, comfort/hurt, death, implied werner syndrome, memory loss.

the second stage of diluc’s life, death and you.

a/n : a very very messy writing which were written by me for 2 days…? please listen to je te laisserai des mots while reading this, it would improve your imagination more <3

oh to be a normal couple. Lying in your frail shoulder, diluc exhales his heavy breathing. Trading the air with a brain of oxygen and beauty of life, he let your hands wrapped to his arm. Soothed his messy-red-hair and hearing the whisper of the freedom. Near the lakes of the winery, stand your figure and diluc seeing the sunset in mesmerized glances. It was a peaceful evening, even the birds seems too peaceful that it hurts your soul. The world isn’t fine, how come everything became so peaceful today?

“diluc, quick question..” , you called out his name. Stealing the sunset gaze from diluc’s eyes. His breathing is heavy, his heartbeat is unexpectedly warm. Yet you found his presence a little bit too cold..and too fragile.

“and..what is it?”

“who’ll die first, me or you?” , the question is simple. Like a sword to a warriors body, straightforward and cut short. You pay no attention to diluc’s tighten grip, avoiding his eye contact is the way you make his answer straight and honest. After all, you only want to hear his intentions, why did he still seek you even after your condition worsened? He could had the chance to escape from your affection 3 months ago but why did he stay? Did he pitied the unknown for not being the best of his life?

“you” cold and strong. His whole sight focused on your eyes. Anxiety fills it, tears could even force itself to leave your eyes if diluc told you how your eyes show everything. He seen through you and for so many time, he predicted your words. I don’t have any days left diluc.., is your favorite line. The one he thought to be a bullshit.

“just as i expected”

“but you do know i’m not your doctor right?”

“i trust my lovers instinct better than the doctors, they’re a bunch of creeps anyways” , the sunset falls to the edge of the winery before you could finish your reply. the infuse, the breathing machines and the ventilators were all beside you, accompanying you these past weeks. it was bothersome to bring them all together, but thanks to diluc, you could felt as if you were alive. and with no essentials-help you are fine.

diluc saw your anxiety trembles to sobs. the sunset was over and thus—began the starry moonlight which bright to the breezing sky of monstadt.

“thank you..diluc…” , you carefully clinge to his arm. Hugging it tightly without letting your infuse disturbed the warm of his body. your fingers gone numb but his warmth, it radiates so much energy and comfort to be alive. tears fall to his jacket, the moonlight was yet to be found and here you are pleading your lover to stay. Even if you’re both better dying off alone.

“dying off young is pretty tragic don’t you think? Like us..”, whispering your thoughts under the darkened sky and to diluc who was staring empty at your eyes. It was quite and clear to be hear in diluc’s ear but maybe he prefers to drown himself to your frail shoulder, so he could escape from the reality you were going out from his lines.

“y’know diluc, if i were alive till the 32 years of your life, i’ll be happy to laid on our deathbed together..” , a not so sappy thought to be precise. But diluc tries to understand from what are you implying to say, he doesn’t want to make himself fooled by the guilt of his past.

“and what makes you say that?”

“diluc we all know that i’m dying, i couldn’t always stay like this can i?” “I just want to be free that’s all..but diluc…i don’t wish for someone to forget about me…i want them to know i’m used to be alive and well, i want them to know i’m in love.” — i want them to know i’m in love with you diluc, i don’t want to leave you behind. I don’t want someone to abandoned me behind. I love you diluc. How many times have i told you that? I lost count.

minutes feels like seconds, under the starry night you felt nothing but warm. The warm of his heart and his radiance, although it seems like a facade to hide from your sharp-vision. He is beautiful. but with diluc’s lips under your dry mouth, You could feel more the presence of his fading-figure. Wandering through his palm, the space of his cold fingers and his salty tears. He was crying out of madness. He was frustrated that he couldn’t been able to save you from your draining thoughts.

the sharp needles inside your infuse feels numb. The breathing tube wasn’t as heavy as before. Diluc lips is the only thing you could feel. Under the moonlight, he drops his devotion to his knees. Hands wrapped to your delicate-fragile self. Under the days he left you behind, he apologize. As Now he is humming your lips with hopeless wishes. His kisses are soft, gentle as the wind. Pyro seems so warm to your cryo vision. Unknown for love and ambition to be bear. so this is how falling in love feels like?

the sunrise have awoken, another day has finally begun. Sitting at the balcony with his brother, reading letters and wishes from his inner family circle. Eyebags have grown to diluc’s glance, even his wrinkles start to form onto his charming face. His hair start to fall out to thin airs, leaving half of the once burning red to a pale-silver colored. Enjoying his time with the breeze of the sun, diluc realizes kaeya standing figure. he must be going somewhere..

“Kaeya where are you going?” , voice gone frail. His voice aren’t as strong as before. Even his flatter organs are better than the rusty voice kaeya heard.

“to visit someone, it’s their birthday afterall..want to join in, good-master di—“

“shut up don’t you say that name again” , crossing the words. He exhales his breath. Giving himself an opportune moment to breath the fresh morning air. He flinch to the song of the birds, watching them fly ti the air while the letters flew to the side of the tables. it was a peaceful day for diluc to rest, but nonetheless..he always forgot them. Them who aren’t here anymore. father..and..who are they again?

“Alright big brother diluc ragnvindr..just sit on your wheelchair and prepare your stuff, we’re going to windrise right now.”

“It’s not vennessa’s birthday kaeya, why’d you want to take me to windrise? Are y—“ cutting diluc’s voice, kaeya managed to give him the usual smug face on his sight. Making diluc seems more uncomfortable by his plan.

“Yeah yeah..just stick your butt on the wheelchair already mister, we’re going now woohoo!” , whistling to excitement diluc found his brother action to be quite..suspicious. The road was smooth, maybe because the land of winery belongs to diluc’s and his bloodlines, no? Windrise wasn’t that far from the winery, maybe it is far for someone like diluc to explore such an area in the first place.

Windrise, the inner nation of freedom. The location of free will and vennessa legacy. But why does it feel so..cliché for diluc to remember? He doesn’t remember anything about windrise. He doesn’t remember anything about dying, he doesn’t even remembered the gravestone in front of him now. The air was fresh. The leaves and flowers which grow from the small-location of the gravestone was unexpectedly beautiful. The name which were craved in it was unreadable, maybe it was..once. But never again it would be readable to diluc’s eye.

“happy birthday (name)..me and diluc is in here to plant some cecilia’s..would you mind? Ah if you do..you could breeze the bells there, please don’t mind diluc, he’s lost right now.” , kaeya pleaded to downfall of the gravestone. Whispering questions and rants for the owner of it to know. The bell rang and under the wing it sang. they gladly appreciate your visit, diluc. Kaeya steal his glance to diluc’s unfocused eyes, it look as if it were questioning every each of it’s memories. Who are they and why does kaeya think of them as one of the part of him?

Planting the seeds of cecilia under the ground of the suspicious gravestone. The Crystalflies even surrounded it with grace, as if they all belong to their first habitat, the gravestone of the wilderness. Who are they and why are their remenance so…beautiful?

“hmhm, goodjob. Thank you for accepting our birthday offer..diluc and i will go now, farewell for now, see you soon” , cleaning the dirt from the gravestone. Diluc once again asked kaeya’s answer. But nothing could be found from his brother mouth, it seems it was hidden for diluc’s sake.

“you’ll recognize them again diluc, sooner or after.”

soon never came. Kaeya wasn’t here, he was already gone from the resident, Taking diluc’s place aren’t that easy after all. pale and unrecognized, diluc came to his once work office which he never touch any longer. Searching for documents for kaeya to read for him later at night. His fingertips are still the same, numb and empty. I lack something but what are they…? This uncureable piece of shit was such a bothersome.

oh..what is this..?

a letter? — opening it with caution, diluc found the sight of something he craves. The writing of those who couldn’t be recognized by his mind, yet the feeling..it was warm. So warm and comfortable, that it even shakes diluc’s empathy.

to, my sweetheart, diluc ragnvindr.

i never knew when would you opened this but i think you opened it few years since i have died. I know the side affects of your ilness. So i wouldn’t mind if you forget me all along. It’s not your fault for leaving your old memories and life behind, your ilness is one of the part of your issues diluc and I totally understand that, better than kaeya, better than adeline or elzer. And if you forget about me, it’s fine. You don’t need to remember me, just read this all along alright?

Diluc, my swetheart. You probably found this crumpled behind your documents. Maybe kaeya would found it first than you do and it wouldn’t be much of a problem for me to bare, after all i’m dead and even if you apologize i wouldn’t dare to say i would forgive you. Cause diluc, i’m hopelessly in love with you. I love you diluc. Even if you forget me, even if you died in your old age and disastrous days, even if you don’t love me any longer. I’ll be very happy if you could still read this letter. Your curiosity is the reason i’m alive for once diluc. Your warm is the reason of my short-recovery diluc. You are everything. And if you forgot, then it’ll be fine. Read this letter everytime you felt lost, because no home without your lover, no? Ah nevermind that’s a shitty joke isn’t it diluc? Hehe

I’m very satisfied with what I’ve achieved in my lifetime. I got to be with you and your family. I feel like i’m apart of them, apart from who i become. I escape and i’m alright. I’m alive and it’s all because of you diluc. I’m happy. Very happy. But one thing i couldn’t regret more is the fact i couldn’t marry you and tell my devotions to the crowds. I want you foreve diluc, but our time is short enough for each other sake. Fate was cruel, but it’s fair and merciful. It gave us a time to met each other and i’m thankful.

So diluc, whenever you feel lost. Feel free to found me in the crystalflies and in the starry night of the winds. Whenever you need me, i’ll be there. just so let you know i’m the donor of your heart, please don’t regret the fact i’m sharing my life with you. I’m happy to know you are alive, diluc. As long ad you enjoyed your days and live a well-long life, i’ll be happy to give you my everything. I might couldn’t give you this year, but here. Open this envelope, it’s a present. For what exactly? For your own love, diluc. Accept it, would you? I don’t mind if you wouldn’t, but if you want to wear it, feel free to use it.

I’m very happy to be alive diluc, i love you.

The letters ended and so do his tears scroll through his cheeks. The crystalflies in the gravestone. Oh it’s you all along..? Why didn’t you cry out of regret? Are you happy for what diluc became? Are you, my dear…? He was scared of letting you loved him again. He deserve nothing but your hatred. The envelope, it was fill with your charm bracelet. The matching bracelet you used to talk with diluc.

The gravestone, the cecilia’s..? Aren’t those the promises diluc made before? i’ll grow garden of hundreds cecilia’s with you. But he forgot. Your existance are nothing to him anymore, he lost his senses, he lost everything. This heart..your heart. It was pounding rapidly, it even showed diluc emotions again. He was crying in pain. He was crying in sorrow. Oh god, i wish i’m not that weak. I wish i still love you the same as how those letter told me. Darling, will you love me again? No response. He was truly out of his mind to forget the ones who bring his dimmed eyes back alive. So once again he confesses, falling to his knees as he begged for his mind to remembered you.

The days have past so did you died in his eyes. Casket opened and emptied with your body, cecilia all over the ground. You are dead and yet the pounding heart of yours are the result of love. Strokes his body with empty thoughts, he began to murmured again his love.

your heart..it’s warm, My dear.

TAGLIST : @mikachuchu , @zierx, @childeluv @urujiako , @chichikoi , @noirkkat , @aphrodicts-imagination

[tricksters-captain]

Benny Watts/The Queens Gambit imagines - From Pawn to Pen Part 4

AN: I’m sorry I missed posting last week. I’m currently going through a hard break up and it’s really taking a lot of energy out of me so I struggle to write at the moment. 

Overall Summary: You’re a young journalist for Chess Review, with a love for chess and a desire for knowledge. One day at a tournament, you come across the famous Benny Watts...

In this chapter: You return to Boston for the week. 

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)

Pairing(s): Benny Watts x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1,940

Warnings: Some strong language

You smiled as you looked at the copies of ‘Chess Review’ on the racks. 

Your first front page piece for Chess Review. 

They had used one of the pictures of Benny that you had taken at the hotel and you were pretty proud of your photography skills. 

You picked up a copy and took it inside to pay for it. 

On second thought, you picked up two so you could mail one to Angelie. 

You left the store quickly after and started to walk back to your apartment. 

Boston was busier than you had remembered and you finally had some time to sort out the apartment after your article went down well with the big man. 

You opened the door to your apartment and put down your groceries on the kitchen counter top. 

The last tenant hadn’t left the place in too bad a state, just a carpet stain here and there and a broken lamp. 

You had bought some paint to redecorate your living room and bedroom since it seemed too boring after where you lived in Paris. You had spent the last couple days painting and then you finally left to go check out your title page. 

The books that Benny had given you were still on your small two person dining room table where you had left them when you first got back. You looked over at them and furrowed your brow as you thought about whether you are actually going to bother to read them or not. 

Your phone started to ring and your frown disappeared when you realised it was probably Angelie. No one else had your number besides your work. 

“Hello?” You answered it, taking the phone off the wall as you leant beside it. 

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” You’d recognise that voice anywhere after listening to it so much over the last tournament. 

“Benny Watts?” You asked, almost in shock. 

“Have you read those books I leant you yet?” He asked, not even bothering to confirm it was him. 

“It’s been four days.” You told him flatly. 

“You could’ve easily gotten through at least two of them by now.” Benny challenged you which caused you to shake your head (even though he couldn’t see). 

“You know, Benny Watts, I do have a life to live.” You defended yourself to which Benny found amusing. 

“So, you’re back in Boston since you picked up this phone.” Benny changed the subject completely. 

“How did you even get this number?” You asked, genuinely curious and a little worried. 

“You really think Chess Review won’t hand over your telephone number to their favourite US chess player?” 

“You got it from Beth Harmon then?”  You teased the boy to which he responded with a dry laughter. 

“Ha Ha. Very funny.” Benny retorted, “If you’re in Boston, it means you currently aren’t working. Fancy an educational trip to New York City?” 

“Benny, I told you. I’m not coming to New York.” You reminded him about how you declined previously when he asked. 

“Come on, just for the weekend? We’ll play some chess, do some tourist shit and eat some food?” Benny asked, trying his best to persuade you Benny Watts style. 

“I’ve also told you before that I don’t play.” You felt a small bubble of excitement in your stomach as you considered going to New York but you quickly squashed it down. 

“What are you afraid of?” Benny asked. Deja Vu. 

“Why are you pushing this?” You closed your eyes as you let your head roll back to press against the wall. 

“Because I see that same light that’s in Beth Harmon, that’s in every decent chess player when you see a chess board.” Benny confessed to you. 

“I’m sorry, Benny. You’ll just have to find someone else to play with. I don’t want to be apart of this little game.” You hung up the phone with a sad sigh before Benny could respond. 

You found yourself looking at the books again. 

You picked up Benny’s and you opened it...

“I’ve been waiting all day for your call.” You half scolded Angelie as you answered the call. 

You heard Angelie’s laughter through the phone and it made you home sick. 

“Je suis désolé!” Angie apologised. “This new project has me so busy, constantly on set, costume changes, make up changes, redoing scene..!” 

“It sounds awful.”  You chuckled, 

“It is! You wouldn’t understand... You’re just a big time American journalist.” Angelie pouted. “Anyway, how are you?” 

“I’m okay.” You lied. 

“Menteuse!” Angelie called you out. “Tell me the truth. What is bothering you, Mon Cher?” 

“Benny Watts called me today.” You had filled her in on the tournament with him once you had first arrived back in Boston and she had already previously told you off for not taking his offer to New York. 

“He did?!” Angie gasped. 

“Yes, he did. He got my number through work and called me to ask if I had read the books he gave me which I haven’t because it’s been less than a week since. the tournament.” You explained. 

“That boy is in love with you, I am telling you now.” Angie was always the hopeless romantic type. It’s how she has had her heart broke so many times. 

“The boy wants to play chess with me to assert his masculine dominance over me and boost his ego with an easy win.” You argued. 

“You are always so negative about men! You hardly know this one!” Angelie groaned. 

“He’s Benny Watts. That’s all I need to know.” 

“I think you should go to New York and meet with him.” Angelie told you. You hadn’t even informed her about the fact he asked you again. 

“I think I should stay here and enjoy my first weekend off in six months.” You shook your head at the idea. 

“(Y/n), you only live once and how many girls are invited to New York by the Benny Watts?!” 

“Probably quite a lot.” You knew Angie was only trying to hype you up but you couldn’t help but knock her down. 

“Even if that is so. You could probably get another article out of it. Benny Watts and his life in the big apple?” Angie suggested. 

“I’m sure ‘LIFE’ has already done that piece before.” You pushed another idea aside. 

“Trust me, (Y/n). You need to stop being so afraid of the unknown and who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy yourself?” Angelie had had enough of the negativity from you at this point. 

There was a sudden knock at your door. 

“I’m sorry, Angie. Someone’s just knocked on my door, I’ll have to call you back.” You looked over at your front door and wondered who it could be. 

“Ça va. Call me back!” She told you as the knock occurred again. 

“Je t'aime.” You hung the phone back up on the wall and went over to your door. 

You opened it and you felt your face go white at the sight of who stood there. 

“Jesus, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Benny Watts. 

BENNY WATTS.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him. 

“Well,  you wouldn’t come to me so I came to you.” Benny shrugged. 

“You can’t just stalk someone. This isn’t okay. This isn’t cute!” You were bewildered. 

“This isn’t stalking. It’s simply coming to Boston to visit a friend.” He defended himself as he stood out in the hallway. 

“I wouldn’t call us friends, Benny.” You scoffed. 

“Ouch.” Benny put his hand on his heart. 

You went to close your door on him but Benny stopped you. 

“Wait.” He pleaded. His cocky demeanour suddenly dropped. “Look, I know this is weird but I really wanted to see you.” Benny started to explain. 

“I––” He cut you short. 

“–– This isn’t some game. I just want to help you. I want you to play chess again. I want you to play with me.” Benny stayed with his hand against the door and his foot in the gap as he spoke. 

“This is crazy, Benny.” You told him, your eyes locked on his as you felt your heart race. 

“I know.” Benny stepped back. “I’m staying in the hotel down the block. I’ll be here all weekend. If you don’t want to see me, then don’t. But if you change your mind. I’ll be around.” 

You watched him back away from the door and head back down the stairs. 

Benny fucking Watts. 

You rushed back to the phone and dialled Angelie’s number. 

“Bonjour?” She answered, 

“You’ll never guess who was at the door.” 

You ended up tossing and turning all night. 

You caved in at around 3am and started to read Benny’s book again. 

You finished it by the time the sun was rising. 

You had a cold shower to wake you up at around 9am and then you stared in the mirror as the thoughts racked your brain. 

You walked over to your chess set that rested on the dresser top and you took it over to your bed, opening it up. 

You set up the board and stared at it.  

You picked up the queen. The same queen that Benny had held in the photo you took. 

You caved. 

You dressed and did simple make up before heading to the hotel that Benny had told you he was staying. 

“I’m looking for Mr Benny Watts.” You asked the elderly lady at the front desk. 

“He’s staying in room 306 but I’m almost certain I saw him leave about an hour ago for breakfast.” She informed you. 

You thanked her then sighed. 

You left the hotel lobby and started down the street. There was plenty of places to eat around the hotel, you almost considered just waiting in the lobby for him to return. 

Then you saw it. 

Through a window of a small diner. 

The famous black hat. 

You pushed open the diner door and walked towards the booth where Benny was sat. 

He had his back to you but he didn’t seem surprised to see you when you sat down opposite him.  

“Morning.” He greeted you as he munched on some pancakes. 

“I won’t play chess with you.” You stated. “I won’t play chess with you but I will spend the weekend with you and you can talk about it.”

Benny remained silent as his brown eyes watched you carefully. 

“I finished your book.” You told him. “I'm ready to learn.” 

Benny placed his knife and fork down, picking up the napkin beside his plate to wipe his mouth. 

“Great.” He nodded, interlinking his fingers above his food as he elbows rested on the table.  “Let’s begin.” 

(WHAT HAPPENS NEXT HERE)

TAG LIST

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[fruitcoops]

I was wondering if I could request something? Maybe Sirius' first night at the Dumais' place and Dumo can straight away tell that somethings wrong. Sirius makes polite conversation and it all looks so painful until he retires for the night and Dumo passes by his room and he hears Sirius crying maybe? Because of what his mother said, and maybe because he has trouble adjusting to new situations? Just an idea that popped into my head :) Only if you want to write it <3 Thank you

Yes, I can! I love writing Dumo, but for some reason I don't do it that often--his and Sirius' dynamic is just so wholesome and wonderful. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for implied child abuse and broken glass (no injury)

The first thing Pascal Dumais noticed about Sirius Black was how quiet he was. At only eighteen years old, Sirius was taller than most of the other Lions, with broad shoulders and gangly limbs. Yet he moved almost silently, padding along the wood floors in his socks and speaking only when spoken to. It was…honestly, a bit unsettling.

Dumo had expected a rambunctious teenage boy, still high on the thrill of being drafted to the NHL—instead, he found himself the guardian-slash-landlord of a ghost. Sirius unloaded his meager belongings with little fuss and accepted no help, his pale eyes never lingering on either of them for too long.

Celeste poked her head into the living room in the early afternoon when they returned from the grocery store; Sirius was sitting ramrod straight in the smallest chair they had with a thick book in his hands. She knocked gently on the doorframe, and he jumped. “Sirius, would you like some lunch?”

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” he said in that unusually soft voice.

“It’s no trouble,” she assured him.

“I can make myself a sandwich if you have other things to do. Really, I’m alright.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

Sirius blinked, as if he hadn’t expected her to ask, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “I had breakfast at seven and a granola bar on the plane.”

“Sirius, it’s almost two.”

“Is it?”

“Come with me for a moment, oui?” She ushered him into the kitchen; Dumo wasn’t sure he would ever get used to seeing someone so physically imposing walk so small.

“Papa?” Someone tugged on the hem of his shirt and he snapped out of his daze, leaning down to lift Adele into his arms with a smile.

“Bonjour, mon chou! Did you have fun outside?” She nodded, wiggling a little in her excitement, and put her hands on either side of his face. Dumo’s stomach sank. “Why are your hands wet?”

“I washed them!”

“Why?”

“Because we played with chalk!”

Both the boys were at day camp, and Katie was down for her afternoon nap. Dumo wracked his brain. “Who were you playing with?”

“Sirius!” she giggled, then held the front of her shirt out. Wasn’t she wearing a different one this morning?“An’ he said chalk stains, so he lifted me up so I could wash my hands and helped me get my new shirt on when it got stuck and let me braid his hair! Can we keep him? Please, Papa, I wanna keep him forever!”

Dumo kissed her forehead as a wave of emotion tickled the back of his throat. Less than six hours in their home, and Sirius was already connecting with his children. “Oui, we can. Did you say thank you?”

Adele bit her lower lip. “I don’t remember.”

“Sirius?” Dumo called. The clanking in the kitchen stopped. “Can you come here for a moment?”

There was a beat of silence before he appeared in the doorway, looking paler than before as he walked over to them. This boy needs to eat more, the parental part of Dumo’s brain thought instantly. Slate-grey eyes flickered between them. “She—she had chalk on her shirt. I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“It’s alright. What do you say?” Dumo asked, turning to Adele.

She turned a beaming smile on Sirius. “Thank you!”

His whole face softened in the blink of an eye and he smiled back, giving her a light fist bump. “Pas de problem, petit papillon.”

-------------------------------

Sirius opened up a bit over lunch; Adele perched herself right in his lap with her peanut butter sandwich to his clear astonishment, but his smiles came easier after that and Dumo treasured each one. He was already grateful that Sirius did not seem like the type of asshole player that Dumo remembered from his high school years.

Marc and Louis returned to the house just as they finished, and though Sirius offered to help wash the dishes—the boy was a blessing, really—they shooed him off to play with the kids for a while. It would do them all some good to get out in the sun.

“Quiet, isn’t he?” Celeste remarked as they stood side-by-side at the sink. Her tone was casual, but Dumo saw the worry in her eyes.

He hummed in agreement. “He’s probably just nervous, mon amour. They can take a while to warm up.”

“Pascal, I don’t think—”

The sound of shattering glass echoed from the other room. The house held its breath. “Is everyone alright?” Dumo called, drying his hands on the nearest towel as his pulse picked up. “What happened?”

Hushed whispers floated out, followed by the pitter-patter of little feet. He hurried down the hall with Celeste hot on his heels. “I’m so sorry,” Sirius said as they entered the room. He was kneeling on the wood floor, gathering fragments of a small water glass in one palm. “It was my fault. I hit it with my elbow.”

Celeste frowned. “Boys? Adele? I know you were here.”

Dumo didn’t miss Sirius’ hard swallow, nor the sudden nervousness—no, that was fear—on his face as the three kids crept out from around the corner, looking guiltier than anything. Adele stepped forward, but Sirius stood in a smooth, instinctive motion, keeping her behind him. “It was my fault,” he repeated. Dumo’s heart sank.

“Adele, is that true?”

She looked up toward Sirius, who kept his broad hand ever so slightly in front of her shoulder. Celeste raised an eyebrow. “Adele Marie, tell the truth.”

“No,” she said.

“Come here, please.” Dumo watched Sirius’ breaths go shallow as Celeste beckoned to Adele, but confusion took its place when she crouched to her level. “Thank you. What Sirius did was very nice, but we don’t let other people take the fall for our mistakes in this house, Adele. We accept responsibility. Who broke the cup?”

“I was chasing Marc and we both bumped into the table,” Adele confessed, toying with the hem of her butterfly-patterned shirt. “It was an accident, I promise.”

“Did anyone get hit by the glass?” Dumo asked. All three shook their heads. “Sirius?”

He cleared his throat. “No, Mr. Dumais.”

“Marc, Adele, I want you to find the broom and dustpan so your mother and I can clean this up. Thank you for being honest. Sirius, there’s a trash can in the kitchen, but be careful of the sharp edges. And please, call me Pascal or Dumo.”

But he didn’t stop thinking about the visible alarm on Sirius’ face when Celeste brought Adele forward all afternoon. Something was not right.

--------------------------------

If it wasn’t for the baby, Dumo would not have heard it.

Katie woke around midnight with a quiet whine, which devolved into whimpering, and finally into full-out sobbing for over half an hour. He carried her downstairs so she wouldn’t wake the others and gently rocked her, humming lullabies under his breath until his throat was dry and her tears abated. “There’s my good girl,” he murmured, drying her pudgy cheeks with his sleeve.

The last bits of sleep faded away as he set her down in her crib again, and he sighed. The season didn’t start for more than a month, but he had been looking forward to a few consecutive nights of solid rest before then.

May as well check on the others, he thought, wandering down the hallway in his thickest socks and bathrobe to stave off the nighttime chill. Marc and Louis were each out cold; he took the open book splayed across Marc’s bed and set it on his dresser, turning the lamp off as he left. Adele was curled into a tight ball around no less than four of her precious stuffed animals and he tucked the blankets back over her shoulder.

Dumo’s feet carried him down the stairs before his brain fully caught up, and he paused—Sirius had been in their house for a single day, and already he had the urge to look out for him. The thought should have made him feel silly, but instead he felt…peaceful. He felt right. There was a lost and near-silent boy in his home, who protected his kids within hours of knowing them. Of course Dumo was going to make sure he was alright.

Summer wind rushed past the wide windows as he headed toward the basement. It was warmer there, and he took a moment to mentally pat himself on the back for remodeling two years prior. Hopefully, Sirius would be comfortable.

A soft sound broke through his thoughts. Dumo stopped on the last step.

There was a harsh breath, then a sniffle, as if the person inside was trying and failing to keep their tears in past the point of no return. He heard a few shaky, weak inhales, then a choked noise that cut off abruptly with a gulp.

Dumo closed his eyes to hold back tears of his own and knocked lightly on the bedroom door.

Everything went silent with a rustle.

“Sirius?” he whispered, raising his voice just enough to be heard through the door. “Are you awake?”

There was no answer.

“Can I come in?” he ventured.

An unsteady voice answered. “Ouais.”

The door creaked a little as he opened it and stepped into the dark room. Sirius was nothing more than a clump of shadows on the far side of the bed, squished tight against the wall with all his blankets wrapped around him. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Je vais bien.”

“Can I sit?” Dumo fully expected Sirius to tell him ‘no’, to make an excuse, to pull some arrogant teenager nonsense.

Instead, he tucked his legs up and made room near the foot of the bed with another sniffle. “Did I wake you?”

“Non. Katie was crying, and I thought I’d check on everyone.” He settled down and scooted until his back was against the wall as well—Sirius was still hiding in a cocoon of his duvet, but his hand came up to wipe his face. “Do you want to talk?”

“About what?”

“You seem upset. I know the homesickness is hard for the first few days, but—”

“No.” The vehemence of Sirius’ answer shocked him into silence. “No. I’m not homesick. I just—so much has happened, and I—it’s—this is everything I wanted, right here, and—”

He broke off with a wounded noise that broke Dumo’s poor heart right down the middle. He moved closer until their shoulders touched; to his surprise, Sirius leaned on him and shivered. “How can I help you?” Dumo asked quietly.

“Your family…” Sirius shook his head and drew the covers tighter. “You have a beautiful family. You should be proud of them.”

“I am, every day.”

“Your kids love you so much.” It was barely more than a whisper.

Dumo sighed through his nose. “I know.”

“No, you don’t, they—you’re their hero. And not because of hockey.”

That was Dumo’s dream, laid out right in front of him. If someone he hardly knew could see that, then it must be true. The impact was greater than he ever could have imagined; his lungs felt tight. “Thank you. Is it alright if I ask you something?”

Sirius stiffened slightly.

“You’re not in trouble, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’m just…worried.”

He felt Sirius shift. “This is about the glass.” It wasn’t a question.

“Oui.” Dumo searched for the words and scrounged up any sliver of tact he could find. “Sirius, do you—what happens when you break a glass at your house?”

Sirius’ breath rushed from his lungs in a near-silent sob. Dumo gathered him close in his arms and held him, letting tears dampen his shoulder as he murmured soft reassurances in French. “I’m sorry,” Sirius croaked, though he did not move away. “I’m sorry for—for intruding, and for ruining your shirt—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Dumo gave him a light squeeze of comfort and felt him go a bit boneless. “And you are not intruding. We love having you here with us.”

“Really?”

He sounded so unsure. So young. Dumo wished he could take away whatever horrible things had been said to ever make someone so kind feel so small. “Yes. Adele, especially.”

“She’s so…colorful.” Fondness dripped from every word.

“She is,” Dumo agreed. “She came running up to me, and went ‘papa, papa, can we keep him?’”

Sirius laughed a little at his imitation and straightened up, drying his eyes on his hoodie sleeve. They sat quietly for a while until the shaking stopped and his death grip on the comforter loosened. “Thank you, Mr. Dumais.”

“Call me Pascal, or Dumo if you like. ‘Mr. Dumais’ makes me sound like a grandfather.” They laughed together, then fell silent once more. “And you’re welcome. Any time you need help, you can come to me. I might not be your father, but—”

“You’re better,” Sirius interrupted, wiping his nose. His shadow turned to face Dumo in the dark, and though he couldn’t see his face, he could picture the earnest expression. “In every way. Please don’t tell anyone about this, though.”

“It never even crossed my mind,” Dumo answered honestly. “I should let you sleep now. We have some busy weeks ahead of us, eh?”

“Bonne nuit, M—Dumo.” The name carried new weight and he let it sink in as Sirius laid back down and kicked his blankets back into place. Something told him this was the beginning of a very interesting story.

“Bonne nuit, Sirius. Welcome to our home.”