#vaincre fanfic

[splendidlyinlove]

O’Knutzy Week Day 1!!!!!

I’m not late because I said so also time is a concept. A huge thank you to @oknutzyweek2023 for organizing this fest and to the lovely @lumosinlove for the creation of these characters!!! 

Day 1 Prompt: Smile 

CW for mentions of food/drink and depictions of internalized homophobia/negative self talk

When Logan was four years old smiles were as simple as breathing. He was all scraped knees and grubby fingers, trailing behind his three (which comes after two and before five…he thinks) older sisters. All he knew was dress up and pirates and that was enough for him.  

He had lost his first tooth last Tuesday, La Petite Souris had reimbursed him kindly with several shiny new coins. He had run down the stairs with them clasped in his hand and shouted “Look!” at his maman. His cheeks were round and rosy, indents from the pillowcase still stretching across them, and smiling so hard it almost hurt. There was still blue on his lips from where he had accidentally drawn on his mouth with a marker while rubbing his eye and his mouth made a faint whistling sound when he exhaled through his teeth. His maman smiled back. And that was how life worked at four. 

Smiling was a language like French or English. On humid summer days in France, he and his sisters would sit on sticky hardwood floors and sound out vowels through box fans. The giggles and smiles were I love yous, just with fewer syllables. His sisters forced him into dresses and called him gross, but it was okay. They smiled at him like he was theirs forever and he trusted them enough to know it was true. 

Smiles were opening presents on Christmas and jumping through the sprinkler outside. They were storytime and birthday cakes and good night kisses. They were stitched onto his favorite stuffed animals and frozen in time in pictures covering the wall on their stairway. 

One time he snuck out of bed to sit on the stairs and watch TV through the railing over the backs of his parents’ heads. The man on the TV looked sad and said a lot of big words. He didn’t smile much, he said something about life not making sense. Logan didn’t understand that. Living was about love and love was where home was and home was where he smiled most. 

There was a creak from behind him and when he turned around he saw Noelle smiling while holding her finger up to her mouth with a silent shh. Logan smiled back when she sat down next to him. Yeah, it all seemed pretty simple to him. 

___

At thirteen years old the world was not simple. It was messy and confusing, it was like someone had paint splattered across walls and asked him what the shapes spelled out. Logan didn't know, and they would smile. But not the smiles that he was used to, no, smiles were different now. 

Smiles could be sharp, pointed weapons. Looks shared between boys with letterman jackets across the halls, the ringing laughter after a slam against lockers. Dirty jokes, ego, us vs. them politics, mental gymnastics, I know you are but what am I?, thinly veiled insults, banter, and “locker room talk.” 

There was a sense of panic building up inside Logan that he couldn’t pinpoint. He smiled along, though he could feel it not reaching his eyes. Did they see it not reaching his eyes? Is his hair weird? His shirt feels too small, why’d he wear this today? Purple is a stupid color. Stupid. This is stupid. He’s stupid. 

He walked into his algebra class and sat down next to some boy he didn't recognize with a huff. 

“Bad day?” 

Logan’s head snapped to look at him. “Huh?” 

“I was just wondering if you were okay. You seem…grumpy.” 

And then the boy smiled at him. He smiled. 

His eyes crinkled up at the corners and the freckles on his cheeks stretched out. There was a light that seemed to shine outwards from his irises, his hair looked soft and his jaw was somewhere between round and angular. Logan wanted to reach out and touch, and why did his stomach feel like-? 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Smiles always had teeth, but they had never bitten until then. Logan didn't smile back, he clenched the feeling between his fists and made it as small as it could be. 

___

Finn was something impossible. He was a broken clock right three times a day, a city with no people, lightning in a bottle, a tsunami with no casualties, dressed in socks with Adidas slides and brown eyes that felt like a sacrament.  

He gave smiles away like old furniture. Here, you’ll get more use out of this than I will. He was unguarded and open and free and if Logan was honest Finn terrified him. Finn was the sun. Logan could already feel his eyes burning, he really should look away, but oh, didn’t it feel so good to be warm?  

Logan was cool green stares with walls miles high surrounding them. But, Finn was well equipped with inside jokes, memorized coffee orders, delirious late nights, no-look passes, adrenaline highs, and shared greasy breakfasts. Finn poked and prodded at the hard shell Logan had so carefully put together over four years. Slowly, piece by piece it wore down, floating like wilted flower petals to the floor. Logan could feel himself loosen, feel the tense muscles relax, his fists unclench. 

At seventeen, inside a rundown frat house, in their messy, poorly decorated room, Logan couldn't help himself. He smiled, but he swore it didn't mean I love you. It didn’t.  

___

Leo was simple. He was like thunder after lightning and the rainbow after a storm. He made sense, slotted into place like he always belonged. He was loud sort of quiet, he had a presence about him that you didn't realize how much room it encompassed until it wasn’t there. 

Leo let Logan talk. Just talk. And the best part is he would listen. Logan felt heard when Leo was around, Finn listened too but sometimes he didn’t understand. Maybe it was because, for Logan, English never seemed to be a good medium for explanation, it always seemed one size too small. Leo understood, though, both in English and French. Leo could read between the lines, sometimes Logan didn't have to say anything at all. And that, that was ecstasy in itself. Logan could get so tired of explaining, sometimes he just wanted to be. 

If Finn was the sun and Logan was the moon, then Leo was the night sky. Vast and all-consuming in a quiet sort of way, comforting like a blanket, pretty to look at. God, was he pretty to look at. 

In a hotel room in a city that Logan had visited several times but never got to know, Leo answered a knock on the door and brought in a tray. He picked a mug up off of it and handed it to Logan. 

“Here, I got you some mint tea.” 

Logan smiled. He couldn’t lie to himself this time, he knew it meant I love you. And didn’t that just make it all the more tragic? 

___

Smiles weren’t as simple as breathing, they were as simple as atoms. They made up everything around Logan and were everywhere. Logan would wake up and smile, eat breakfast and smile, pay taxes and smile. He would stay up late in the night with Leo, fighting with insomnia together and he would wake up sleep deprived and the happiest he's ever been.  Finn would come home from a run sweaty and hug him and it would be gross, and disgusting, and really, Logan should be screaming in terror but, against all odds there he was smiling. 

It was convoluted, but then again, it was the most understandable thing to ever happen. He was right when he was four, smiles meant I love you and there was so much love to give. In the dead of night, in the blazing afternoon, love was exchanged like playground, pinky-swear promises. Logan would keep every one. 

He had been planning it for months, he nearly wore a hole in the rug from the pacing back and forth. He sat in front of them on a blanket in the middle of a field and pushed two small velvet boxes toward each of them, along with letters that bared his soul. He had opted for letters instead of some big speech, he was terrified of not getting the words out right and of switching to French halfway through. Words had always been Finn’s department anyway. 

They both looked back up at him with tears in their eyes.

Logan smiled and said, “I love you.” 

They knew, of course they knew. Logan said it out loud anyway. 

___

The wedding was a summer affair, chairs were set outside by a big tree. Finn had put on sunscreen in preparation. 

“This is a setup” he had said. Logan and Leo had laughed so hard that they almost fell off the bed. 

“I don’t see what’s so funny about it.” It would have sounded serious if Finn wasn’t smiling, and he was smiling. 

After a coughing fit Leo gathered himself enough to say, “You don’t want to marry us outside, Finn?” 

Finn paused at that. He was still smiling but it changed into something soft yet sure, like faith. 

“I’d marry you anywhere and nowhere at all.” 

So it was settled. The wedding would be outside, and if Finn had more freckles on his nose during their honeymoon, it would be a burden Logan and Leo would gladly carry. However, the sunscreen turned out to be unnecessary. Dark clouds had rolled in and rain trickled down around them. 

It was perfect, unexpected, but perfect. Like a child, they loved the moment anyway. There was no world where it could be bad, because it was theirs, and it was them, and they were together, and wouldn’t that always be beautiful? 

They got married in the rain with wet hair in front of all of their friends and family. Their smiles said I do well before their mouths did, and though Leo and Logan would miss Finn’s extra freckles, it was a small sacrifice. 

___

The hospital room was white and smelled sterile. It was much different from the shade of pink that the guest bedroom in their house had been painted. 

Daughter. 

You’re having a daughter. 

Logan had been drowning in shades of pink for four months and he never wanted it to stop. He wanted tea parties, and race cars, and doll houses, and dress up, and pirates, and math homework, and sleepless nights, and play pretend. He wanted it all. He put all of his excited energy into planning the nursery and buying toys. Now, sitting between Finn and Leo in hospital room chairs, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He bounced his leg up and down and tapped his fingers on the armrest, Finn and Leo had grabbed his hands several times to get him to stop. 

Time seemed to stop when the door opened. A nurse walked in holding a bundle of blankets. 

“You ready to hold your baby girl?” 

Before Logan could process, the baby was placed into his arms. She was the tiniest thing he’d ever seen, with a button nose and round cheeks. She fussed a bit, her arms wiggling and feet kicking, and for a moment her eyes opened the smallest amount. 

Two pairs of green eyes met.

And Logan cried.

But mostly he just smiled. 

[fruitcoops]

Happy Birthday, Sirius. Characters by @lumosinlove <3

“You’re soft.” Kiss. “Right here. And you’re warm.”

Remus makes a little humming noise. Half an answer, half a breath. Sirius smiles into the ridge of his shoulder blade. It’s more than enough to satisfy.

They don’t have to talk much, anymore. He can read Remus like a favorite book, with worn and yellowed pages and a paperback cover peeling off from being carried along with him to every important place. Love is worn into the glossy cover in fingerprint-smudges and rounded corners. His fingers have left marks on the margin of every page. And Remus…Remus has been able to read him longer than Sirius knew what story he was telling. Speaking isn’t necessary most times. They hardly need to try.

They like to do it anyway.

“I like it, it’s my favorite,” Sirius states, prompt and decisive as he runs his thumbs up and down the bowling-alley gutter-guards of Remus’ spine. The bones are rolling foothills between. A smattering of faint, blond-ish hair gathers at the slope above his waistband, glimmering when Sirius pulls his thumbs across those last few inches. “You’re freckly, still. Petites étoiles.”

“Ooo, talk dirty to me,” Remus mumbles like he always does, face half-buried in the pillow. Sirius swats at his upper back and feels a laugh jostle his legs.

The expanse of his shoulders is so good. Has been, will be, currently is. He scratches the tops lightly with blunt nails and watches Remus press back into it in a shifting, catlike stretch. He’s willing to bet that if he looked backward, Remus’ feet would be flexing over the end of the bed to complete the ripple down his body. It only takes a twitch of his hamstring beneath Sirius’ thigh to confirm it.

“Will you do the—hmm, yeah.” Remus sighs, and melts. A tender-firm knuckle to that tetchy muscle gets him every time. Sirius drags the span of his palms over the latitude of Remus’ back and feels him breathe, deep and slow, as his heart beats ever onward. Endurance. Persistence. Unfailing courage. Gentle hands and canine teeth that never let go even when the world tried to shake him loose.

Sirius leans down and kisses that spot below his shoulder blade, in the valley where he is soft and warm and speckled and Remus. He turns his head and matches it on the other side, a mirror, an inch below a long-silvered scar. It’s almost invisible now. Time is funny like that.

Remus breathes. His hands continue. His mouth stays light. They grow old, slowly, and it’s more than enough.

[moonloup]

SEE THIS IS WHY I DONT SAY ANYTHING

[solemilyswear]

Happy fic-o-ween! I’m a couple days late, please forgive me. Here’s a little something inspired by @lumosinlove for @noots-fic-fests using the prompt “your hands are cold” from Day 9.

For the best reading experience, I recommend listening to “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None The Richer.

Major Vaincre Spoilers ahead!

“It’s time for another break of the action, brought to you by Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream…”

After a long summer, it was nice to be back out on the ice, and based on the excitement from the crowd tonight, the fans were glad to be back, too. Music had started playing, showing fans on the Jumbotron to get the crowd going.

Remus skated over to the bench where Sirius, gloves off, was drawing out a play on his hands for James. As he reached them, James nodded and turned to where Finn leaned over the bench, chatting with Leo, on reserve tonight.

“Kiss me out on the bearded barley…” the music had changed, but Remus wasn’t paying much attention to it, more interested in Sirius’ hands, a little red from the cold, the tattoo on his ring finger standing out against the flush as he grabbed a Gatorade bottle to drink from.

“…you wear those shoes and I will wear that dress…”

Remus turned to grab a sip of his own bottle. They had a game to focus on.

“You’re hot tonight.”

Remus couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at Sirius’ words, then looked back to find a similar grin on his husband’s face. “Really?”

“I was just telling James that if we get a power play, I want you on it.”

Almost as if I’m response to Sirius’ words, the crowd erupted in cheers. Remus looked up in search of the cause and saw himself live, standing next to Sirius—

“…So, kiss me...”

—on the Kiss Cam.

He watched on the screen as Sirius reached for his jersey and pulled him in. He looked away from the Jumbotron and into his favorite pair of eyes, just in time to feel the press of his favorite lips on his.

They usually tried to keep PDA on the ice down to a minimum (with exceptions of cup wins and particularly important goals), but it was the start of the season, and they were married, and they were happy, and they were home. They had the support of the fans, cheering for them, happy for them, and Remus was going to enjoy this moment.

“…Kiss me beneath the milky twilight. Lead me…”

Sirius’ kept one hand gripped in his jersey, but the other had wandered up toward his neck, and Remus pulled away slightly with a sharp inhale. Sirius looked at him questioningly.

“Your hands are cold”

That got him a pout and a second hand on his neck. “Won’t you warm them for me?”

“… so kiss me.”

The music ended and the refs were skating out, signaling it was time for a resume in play.

Remus brought his hands up to take Sirius’ into his own, and held them for a few seconds before bringing them to his mouth to kiss the ink that’s been driving him crazy for weeks now. Then he let go.

“I’ll warm your hands later, right now we have a game to play.”

[flowerhawk-highinthesky]

Sometimes you just need your own version of the Gryffindor Lions pride jersey

And what better excuse to use my embroidery machine for the second time (yes this is an older project) 😅

[divkazkdovikde]

fav marauders fics

(continuously updated) (all on ao3 ofc) (just wanted to share my bookmarks i did today, so enjoy)

(more notes below)

update: okay, the thing is, i’m actually pretty fucking lazy sometimes. i’ve been meaning to make other parts to this, but well… anyway, here are my ao3 collections of bookmarks for fics i’ve read and enjoyed. those i am actually updating. so feel free to go through them.

All the Young Dudes - MsKingBean89

Best Friend’s Brother - zeppazariel

Changes - chothocholate

intermission - zeppazariel

just lovers (like we were supposed to be) - zeppazariel

Sober Thoughts - moonymoment, zeppazariel

Sweater Weather - lumosinlove

that’s the art of getting by - sarewolf

‘tis the damn season - moonymoment

//

okay. so. first of all. i am a simple person with simple needs okay? (well not really but-) when i say i like it i mean it. when i don’t like a book i don’t. simple. so here’s the ones that i read and liked and are finished. second, english is not my first language, so that should explain my grammar mistakes. i know about them, ask me if i care. third, this is mostly for me. some kind of diary about marauders fanfics because i am absolutely obsessed. but also i wanted to post it because when i started i wanted some recommendations and there are not many so i hope this will come in handy to someone.

also here are some fics that i absolutely love but are not finished or i haven’t finished reading them yet:

All the Young Dudes - Sirius’s Perspective - Rollercoasterwords

Choices - MesserMoon

Crimson Rivers - zeppazariel

disintegration - moonymoment

edge - pinkpalaceapartments

Give Me Some Credit - brokenvibes

on another ocean - colgatebluemintygel

red lips and rosy cheeks - soloorganaas

Vaincre - lumosinlove

waterloo - frogsandfairies

whatever happened to the young young lovers - georgia_sk

[80roxy08]

Writevember

Heya !

Ce mois-ci, j'ai décidé de tenter le Writevember - pas un roman entier, mais juste des bribes d'histoires, de fanfics, ou d'écriture diverse, pour me réhabituer à écrire en français (j'ai tellement l'habitude d'écrire en anglais...)

Mon objectif est d'environs 30k mots, soit 1000 mots/jour. J'ai bon espoir d'en faire plus, l'idéal étant que certains de ces textes courts puissent me servir de base pour réécrire une histoire ou deux plus tard. On verra ;)

Voilà déjà mon premier texte, pour les jours 1 et 2, qui est assez personnel, intitulé : "TDA" (2171 mots)

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

Je crois que je souffre d’un trouble de l’attention.

“Je crois”, je dis. Comme s’il y avait réellement un doute.

J’en suis pratiquement certaine.

“Pratiquement”. Un auto-diagnostique, ça n’a pas de valeur légale, après tout.

Et c’est tant mieux, en un sens. Parfois, un diagnostic ferme plus de portes qu’il n’en n’ouvre. 

Mais bref. Je crois que je souffre d’un trouble de l’attention. 

Pas d’hyperactivité, non, c’est entre autre pour ça que c’est plus difficile à diagnostiquer - n’allez pas regarder les statistiques de sous-diagnostic de ce genre de trouble chez les filles. C’est un peu déprimant. 

Et ne parlons pas non plus du fait qu’une grande partie des psys pensent toujours (à tort ou à raison ?) que les troubles de l’attention disparaissent d’eux-mêmes à l’adolescence, et qu’il est donc impossible qu’un adulte en souffre encore.

Je pense que c’est à tort. Un adulte est juste plus à même de compenser ces troubles de façon à ce que cela soit moins visible.

Après tout, un enfant ou ado a des profs ou des parents sur son dos, à surveiller ses devoirs, ses passe-temps, prêts à l’engueuler s’il ne fait pas les tâches ménagères qui lui ont été attribuées, etc…

Un adulte qui vit seul, qui va aller l’engueuler s’il n’a pas passé l’aspirateur depuis un mois ? Est-ce que c’est une expérience vécue ? A vous de deviner.

J’en étais où ? Ah oui. Les troubles de l’attention.

J’ai quand même fait quelques recherches. Trouvé le questionnaire officiel pour les adultes, je l'ai rempli - et oh surprise, mon ‘score’ correspond bien à quelqu’un souffrant de ce trouble.

Non pas que qui que ce soit aurait pu le deviner.

Non pas que ma sœur ait eu un diagnostic officiel, et que ce genre de pathologie est héréditaire - oui, papa, je sais que tu ignorais jusqu’à l'existence de ce truc récemment, mais crois-moi, je n’ai pas trop de mal à deviner d’où ça peut venir…

Non pas que j’ai une de mes meilleures amies qui a elle aussi eu un diagnostic officiel, et qui, quand elle s’était plainte de certains de ses symptômes et que j’avais répondu en rigolant, “Oh, ça doit être normal pourtant, ça m’arrive à moi aussi tout le temps !” m’avait regardé entre quatre yeux pour me dire de me pencher un peu sur la question, parce que non, justement, ce genre de chose n’est pas “normal”.

Mais bref. Un auto-diagnostic, vous savez, ça n’a pas de réelle valeur.

Enfin ça aide à mettre des mots sur la chose. Les problèmes. Le bordel dans la tête - et pas que.

Au boulot j’ai une collègue qui a un super petit agenda dans lequel elle note toutes les réunions à venir et les rapports à rendre - avec un code couleur, et des dates bien encadrées.

Moi je fonctionne au post-it.

Si le post-it est devant mon écran, c’est qu’il n’a pas encore été traité. Éventuellement, je mets du stabilo fluo dessus en plus si c’est urgent. Il faut que l’information soit bien devant mes yeux, sinon je zappe.

Enfin, ça fonctionne à peu près correctement. C’est moins classe, mais bon.

On fait ce qu’on peut.

Il faut développer des “techniques” pour réussir à vaincre les problèmes de concentration, l’incapacité à prévoir des rendez-vous, à suivre un planning à cause des incertitudes qui existent - et qui pourtant ne semblent pas gêner les autres.

Au moins, j’ai un mot à mettre sur ce que je qualifiait précédemment de “grosse flemme mdr”.

C’est pas juste ça.

C’est qu’il y a quelques trucs pas bien branchés là-haut. Des fils qui se croisent, et qui ont des conséquences sur des choses pourtant bénignes.

C’est dur, de retrouver un dentiste après avoir déménagé, quand ça fait dix mois qu’on se répète, “Oh, je l’appellerais plus tard, sûrement demain, je vais y penser !”. Et en fait non.

Donc je n’ai toujours pas de dentiste. Ou de médecin généraliste - mais bon, ça c’est aussi la faute aux déserts médicaux, et c’est un autre sujet.

En fait c’est ça qui aide un peu. Se dire que ce n’est pas entièrement de sa faute.

“Pourquoi les autres y arrivent, et pas moi ? Est-ce que je suis si nulle que ça ?” je me suis déjà demandée à de nombreuses reprises.

Oui, mais les “autres” en question, ils n’ont pas, je pense, un petit diable dans le crâne qui mets du bruit blanc et un screensaver Windows 95 en boucle dès qu’ils hésitent entre deux choses à faire. Et en général, ils se décident, eux. Ils ne restent pas bloqués puis doom-scroll les réseaux sociaux pendant trois heures, puis se sentent coupable de ne pas avoir été “productifs”.

On a tous autant d’heures dans une journée ; mais ce qui prend dix minutes à quelqu’un de “normal” m’en prendra deux heures tant que je n’aurais pas trouvé un stratagème pour débloquer mon cerveau quand il est dans cet état-là.

C’est ça qui est le plus frustrant. 

Logiquement, je sais identifier les moments où je ne suis pas “productive” et où je bloque. Et je me répète, merde, vas-y, fait quelque chose, il suffit de dépasser ça et ça va rouler. Mais ce n’est pas la logique qui contrôle mes actions à cet instant précis, et à part me sentir mal ce genre de réflexion a assez peu d’impact.

On m’a parlé de coach de vie, mais franchement ? Je suis presque sûre que ça ne servirait qu’à me dégoûter encore plus de mon incapacité à me gérer comme une adulte responsable.

Pourtant j’en suis une. J’ai un taff, un salaire, je paye mon loyer, mes courses - j’oublie la salade dans le fond du bac du frigidaire, je retrouve un paquet de piles neuves dans le mauvais placard, je remercie les inventeurs du relevé de compte en ligne et du virement bancaire automatique chaque mois. 

Je crois que je souffre de troubles de l’attention, et ça me pourrit un peu la vie par moment.

Mais tant que c’est gérable, eh bien, j’arrive à survivre dans notre société capitaliste moderne, et c’est tout ce qui compte, non ? Ma vie et mon organisation personnelle ne sont peut-être pas tout à fait au niveau des attentes de certains de mes pairs, mais j’ai compris il y a bien longtemps que si je devais me soucier de ce que pense les autres, je n’arriverais jamais à avancer sereinement.

Donc bon. Je m’améliore. Je me répète ça. Ça aide, parfois. 

Et parfois non. Mais merde, hein. Le capitalisme et la productivité à 100% tout le temps, c’est déjà dur pour les gens qui ont ça dans le sang, alors faut pas non plus trop se flageller si on y arrive pas vraiment quand on a le cerveau un peu chamboulé. 

Maintenant, si quelqu’un a une technique pour donner un coup de démarreur à la motivation quand je n’arrives pas à attaquer mes propres passe-temps, je suis preneuse… Il n’y a rien d’aussi déprimant que d’avoir envie de dessiner et. de ne pas. y arriver.

Comme un bouchon. Du Desktop mental, ça existe ? De préférence, pas de la weed…

Il y a des médocs, mais encore une fois, les psy ne prescrivent pas ça aux adultes - apparemment ça n’aide plus tellement quand le cerveau est sorti de la puberté. Je m’y connais pas assez en médecine et récepteur neuronaux pour réfuter cette information, aussi je vais supposer qu’elle est vraie.

De toute façon, faudrait déjà voir un psy. Psychiatre, hein, un psychologue ça ne fera rien.

Et puis c’est pas pris en charge par les mutuelles de toute façon - comme de nombreuses choses liées à la santé mentale. La liste d’application du dispositif “MonPsy” est franchement absurde, et c’est la seule chose que ma mutuelle de merde prends en compte. Alors bon…

Tant qu’on survit, ça passe, hein ?

Bref.

J’en étais où ? Ah oui. Le trouble de l’attention. TDA en abrégé. 

Bien chiant, ça. Une difficulté à se lancer dans les tâches - mêmes celles que l’on aime, voir plus haut ma complainte sur ma difficulté à dessiner malgré le fait que j’ai ce hobby depuis la primaire. Peut-être que j’ai aussi un problème de burn-out sous-jacent, mais pas le temps de se préoccuper de ça pour l’instant, hop, hop, j’ai la vaisselle à faire, j’ai quarante Work in Progress en dessin, en couture, en broderie, en écriture - Des projets commencés à foison, mais jamais finis, l’envie et la motivation s’étant estompés en cours de route et étant bien difficiles à relancer.

Beaucoup de choses à la fois dans la tête, des pensées qui passent à toute vitesse, plusieurs en même temps, difficulté à se concentrer sur un sujet, surtout si ce n’est pas quelque chose qui nous intéresse plus que cela. 

J’ai souvent l’impression d’avoir une vidéo youtube ou un podcast en arrière-plan de mon esprit quand j'essaye de me concentrer. Une musique dans la tête, interrompue par la liste de course à se rappeler - qui sera oubliée dans deux minutes si je ne la note pas - un extrait de la dernière série que j’ai regardé, à laquelle se superpose une ligne d’un livre que je n’ai pas lu depuis des années, puis une image mentale de nourriture en travers, et oh, ça me rappelle une histoire que j’avais lue sur internet - 

Une relation amour-haine avec toute chose nécessitant de prendre un rendez-vous, ou pire encore, d’être effectuée régulièrement et à heure fixe - toute mon empathie à ceux souffrant de TDA et devant gérer du diabète, des pilules à heure fixe pour leurs traitements, des aller-retour réguliers chez un médecin…

Bien évidemment, des pathologies annexes résultant plus ou moins directement des troubles du comportement liés au TDA - anxiété, parce que tu as déjà oublié ton manteau au boulot, parce que tu étais plongé dans un livre et tu as failli louper le rendez-vous pour un vaccin - encore une fois, je vous laisse deviner si ce sont des expériences déjà vécues. 

Une sorte de timidité et d’hésitation à se rapprocher des autres et à former de nouvelles amitié - si j’oublie déjà d’appeler régulièrement mes parents au téléphone, comment diable vais-je maintenir des liens sociaux avec d’autres personnes ? Et ne me parlez pas de préparer un dîner ou une sortie, ma réponse sera “Je ne sais pas” parce que je ne peux prévoir ce que je ferais ce jour-là, et si je n’ai pas envie, et si je tombe malade ? Pourquoi dire oui à quelque chose si c’est pour changer d’avis ensuite, enfin, ce n’est pas sérieux.

Et puis bien sûr, problème de confiance en soi, syndrome de l’imposteur - est-ce que je fais vraiment un travail correct dans ma vie professionnelle, si je suis incapable de me cuisiner trois repas par jour et de replier mon linge une fois sorti de la machine à laver ? 

Qu’est-ce que je fais de ma vie, si je reste bloquée trois heures sur mon téléphone alors que je n’ai même pas vraiment envie de regarder Twitter ou Tumblr ? Est-ce que je suis en train de la réussir, de la rater ?

Qui juge de cela, quels sont les critères ? 

Trouble de l’attention, et beaucoup de questions.

Je pense qu’au regard de ces mots couchés à la va-vite sur une page blanche, vous saurez juger de la pertinence de cet auto-diagnostic, et comprendre un peu ce qui me trouble.

Je crois que je souffre de troubles de l’attention. Ce n’est pas tous les jours facile.

Mais bon. On fait avec.

Et c’est bien ça qui compte, non ?

Peut-être que dans quelques années, je gèrerais mieux les “trucs” et astuces pour éviter de rester mentalement bloquée sur des fadaises. 

Survivre, et puis vivre. Si tant de gens y arrivent, même ceux qui souffrent des mêmes problèmes que moi, alors pourquoi je n’y arriverais pas ? S’il me faut un peu plus de temps, eh bien, soit. Le temps passera quoi qu'il en soit - à moi de l’utiliser pour m’améliorer.

Reconnaître qu’il y a un problème, et mettre des mots dessus, n’est que la première étape pour résoudre ledit problème. Si mon père a réussit, si ma sœur fait de son mieux, si mes amis aussi - merde alors, je n’ai pas le droit de laisser tomber et de me complaire dans la dépression et l’auto-dévalorisation. 

C’est libérateur. De taper tout ça sans trop réfléchir. De “vomir des mots” sur des choses que je n’ai jamais évoquées auparavant. Un poids en moins sur mon esprit.

Peut-être devrais-je écrire dans un journal, ou que sais-je - il doit bien y avoir des conseils pour les adultes atteints de TDA sur internet. 

Que cette tirade se finisse ainsi - je pense que j’en ai assez dit.

Mes premiers mots pour ce mois d’écriture, un aperçu de ce qui se cache derrière mon écran, derrière ma personne. Un cri dans le vide d’internet au sujet des adultes atteints de troubles de l’attention - nous sommes là. Nous existons. Nous faisons de notre mieux - ne nous jugez pas trop vite sur ce que vous considérez comme “normal”.

Si toi aussi, tu te reconnais dans ces mots - eh bien, merde. Et bonne chance.

Tu vas y arriver.

[flashbic]

J'ai perdu le contrôle et j'ai répondu à toutes les questions de ce ask meme shippy reblogué il y a une semaine ou deux. Avec le Lorrain et Falconi. y'a 2 questions que j'avais déjà faites et donc elles sont en anglais, mais zut

C'est sous le cut parce que c'est Interminable.

Après, bon, disclaimer, ça reprend un peu le setting de la grosse fanfic, parce qu'autrement, forcément, y'a pas grand-chose.

I. PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

Un peu plus d’une dizaine d’années avant le début de la série. Le Lorrain était déjà élève du comte de Mansur depuis un moment, et tirait une grande fierté de son statut d'élève favori. Lorsque Falconi se voit offrir une place auprès du comte lui aussi, le Lorrain voit cette arrivée comme un affront. Le comte de Mansur choisit de faire s’affronter son nouvel élève prometteur et son élève le plus doué dès leur première rencontre, et le Lorrain se montre trop arrogant et sûr de lui. Falconi le désarme lors de leur tout premier combat, et le Lorrain prend cette défaite comme une cuisante insulte.

What was their first impression of each other?

À cette époque, le Lorrain méprise ceux qui sont inférieurs à son rang. Lorsque Falconi parvient à le vaincre à l’épée lors de leur tout premier affrontement, l’image que le Lorrain a de lui se fige: il prend le silence et la personnalité réservée de Falconi pour de l’arrogance. À ses yeux, Falconi ne mérite pas cette place qu’on lui a offerte, aussi doué à l’épée puisse-t-il être.

Pendant un bref instant lors de cette toute première rencontre, Falconi espère trouver en Louis du Châtelet un adversaire à sa mesure, mais peut-être aussi un ami. Peut-être que pendant un instant encore plus bref, il se surprend à trouver chez ce jeune homme expressif et sûr de lui quelque chose d’attirant... Quoi qu’il en soit, cette attirance confuse et ce désir de faire du Lorrain un ami disparaissent bien vite lorsque celui-ci se révèle froid et dédaigneux.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

Le Lorrain, qui commence à ressentir une affection confuse à peu près au même moment où il commence à souhaiter faire de Falconi son ami. Cette attirance se développe lentement, mais côté physique ça se cimente à peu près au moment où il voit Falconi vêtu de ces vêtements mal ajustés qui ne lui vont pas du tout mais qui sont tout ce que les Cartouchiens peuvent lui prêter pour le moment. Est-ce que Falconi a l’air ridicule? Tout à fait. Mais le Lorrain trouve ça absolument charmant.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Les deux, dans des mesures tout à fait différentes! Le Lorrain, lorsqu’il se rend compte de son attirance, ne cherche pas exactement à la réprimer, mais choisit de garder ses sentiments pour lui parce que le moment lui semble tout simplement trop mal choisi. Falconi ne semble pas vouloir rester avec les Cartouchiens, et il se remet difficilement de cette attaque sur le Régent à laquelle il a bien failli ne pas survivre. Il est visiblement incertain au sujet de toute cette situation, ajouter une déclaration romantique sur tout ça ne semble pas être la meilleure des idées!

Falconi, de son côté, met longtemps à seulement comprendre ce qu’il ressent, et lorsqu’il commence à saisir, son réflexe est de violemment réprimer tout ça. Parce qu’il insiste pour se dire qu’il va retourner à sa vie au Palais-Royal. Parce que l’amitié qu’il a développée pour le Lorrain lui paraît trop fragile et parce qu’il est certain que jamais cette affection nouvelle ne pourrait être partagée. Il essaie d'étouffer ces sentiments, espérant que s'il les ignore assez longtemps ça finira bien par passer.

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Le Lorrain serait une personne bien différente; c’est son duel avec Falconi qui le pousse à se remettre en question et à éventuellement devenir quelqu’un de meilleur. Sans ça, il aurait sans doute gardé sa petite vie de courtisan bien tranquille. Peut-être aurait-il été de ces gens qui traînent au Palais-Royal et tentent de s’attirer les faveurs de Philippe d’Orléans durant la Régence.

Falconi aurait poursuivi son entraînement aux côtés du comte de Mansur et aurait possiblement trouvé sa place quelque part. Peut-être parmi la garde royale? Son chemin n’aurait probablement jamais croisé celui de Philippe d’Orléans, du moins pas de façon significative.Pour ce qui est de son affection pour Anne de Montsirac, même celle-ci appréciait véritablement Falconi, jamais cette relation n’aurait vraiment pu aboutir à quoi que ce soit. Il n’avait tout simplement pas le nom, ni l’argent qui auraient rendu une éventuelle union acceptable aux yeux de la famille d’Anne. Peut-être aurait-il éventuellement rencontré quelqu’un d’autre… 

What was their "flirting stage" like?

Ça se produit un peu en même temps qu’ils apprennent à s’apprécier et à devenir amis, donc ça reste assez discret! Le Lorrain tente de garder ses sentiments pour lui, mais à vrai dire il ne peut pas s’empêcher d’agacer et  de complimenter Falconi pour attirer son attention. Falconi trouve ça exaspérant… mais il est loin d’être indifférent. Sinon, ce stage implique aussi beaucoup d’entraînement et de duels... Ils y prennent tous les deux peut-être un peu plus de plaisir que nécessaire.

How do their friends and family feel about them as a couple?

Honnêtement, les Cartouchiens sont juste soulagés que la phase “tentatives constantes de s’entre-tuer” soit passée…

II. GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did they go about it?

 J'aime bien l'idée que Falconi ait fait le premier pas. Pas que le Lorrain n'ait pas été tenté de le faire (il y pense Beaucoup), mais au final il choisit de laisser Falconi prendre les devants, même si ça signifie d'attendre qu'il trouve le courage de le faire. Après, pour le comment, j’imagine que ça se passe une fois que Falconi fait partie des Cartouchiens. Et pour plus de détails, il y a le one-shot… :p

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Pas vraiment de premier rendez-vous à proprement parler! Au moment où ils s'avouent leurs sentiments, ils sont déjà proches et passent beaucoup de temps ensemble. On peut peut-être compter leur premier cambriolage ensemble, sans les autres Cartouchiens? Falconi ne considérerait pas ça comme étant particulièrement romantique ou important, mais le Lorrain adore.

What was their first kiss like?

Honnêtement, c'était une tentative désespérée de la part de Falconi qui était tout simplement incapable de trouver les bons mots pour exprimer ce qu'il ressentait. C'est intense, désespéré et impulsif, et le Lorrain trouve ça ridiculement, stupidement, incroyablement attirant. 

Were they each other's first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

Première relation avec un autre homme dans les deux cas (quoique le Lorrain ait eu un flirt ou deux pas sérieux par le passé). Pour Falconi, c'est aussi un premier baiser avec un autre homme, et à vrai dire la première fois qu’il a une relation qui ne se termine pas en désastre.

What is their height difference? Age difference? Do either matter to them? 

La différence d'âge est minime, 2-3 ans peut-être. Falconi est plus grand d'environ une demi-tête, ce qui n'est pas /grand-chose/, mais quand même assez pour que le Lorrain trouve ça un peu attirant sans trop bien savoir pourquoi.

How do their personalities complement each other? How do they clash?

Même après avoir rejoint les Cartouchiens et s'en être fait des amis, Falconi reste quelqu'un de plutôt silencieux et taciturne. Le Lorrain, à l'inverse, est toujours très animé et aime être le centre de l'attention. Parfois ces personnalités si différentes rendent l'entente un peu difficile, mais la plupart du temps ils se complémentent plutôt bien. Le Lorrain fait toujours l'effort d'inclure Falconi lorsqu'ils sont en compagnie d'autres gens, et au final Falconi gagne à se joindre à la conversation. Quant au Lorrain, il apprécie beaucoup ces moments plus posés que Falconi lui apporte.

What is their relationship with each other's families like?

Ça ne s'applique pas pour la famille de Falconi qui n'est simplement plus là. Par contre, si Falconi se retrouve à nouveau face à face avec Gruthus du Châtelet, il y a définitivement un moment de confusion! Le père du Lorrain émet sans doute pas mal de réserves sur la présence de Falconi parmi les Cartouchiens, mais au final il fait confiance à son fils lorsque celui-ci affirme que Falconi est digne de confiance. Pour ce qui est de leur relation amoureuse, par contre, ce n'est pas quelque chose qui est discuté ouvertement. Gruthus est peut-être sourd, mais il n'est pas aveugle, il devine sans doute un peu ce qui se passe…

Who takes the lead in social situations? How are they around each other's friends?

Le Lorrain prend généralement plus de place, mais Falconi n'hésite pas à s'exprimer s'il le souhaite (si la situation implique de menacer ou d’intimider quelqu’un, il prend plaisir à le faire :p). Il est de nature plus discrète, mais il sait parfaitement prendre sa place parmi les Cartouchiens. Ils partagent le même cercle d'amis, donc la seconde question s'applique plus ou moins… quoique, après tout, les Cartouchiens ont d'abord été la famille du Lorrain, et Falconi s'y est greffé bien plus tard. Alors en rafale, les dynamiques de Falconi avec tout le monde:

Cartouche: Falconi lui fait entièrement confiance. À vrai dire, j'aime encore beaucoup l'idée qu'il rappelle un peu à Falconi ce frère aîné qu'il a perdu il y a bien longtemps. Cartouche, qui a tendance à être plutôt impulsif, trouve ce côté plus calculateur que Falconi ne perd jamais amusant. Tous les deux s'apprécient beaucoup, même si au premier abord ils ne semblent pas avoir grand-chose en commun.

Fleur d'Épine: elle est la première personne parmi les Cartouchiens pour qui Falconi développe une certaine appréciation, ce qui n'est quand même pas rien! Elle ne fait pas particulièrement d'effort pour s'entendre avec lui initialement, et ce fort caractère et ce côté très direct sont les bienvenus alors que Falconi peine tant à se faire à l'idée que les Cartouchiens ne lui veulent pas de mal. De son côté, Fleur d'Épine en vient éventuellement à le voir un peu comme un mentor lorsqu'il s'agit de combat à l'épée. Falconi se révèle un professeur plus habile et beaucoup plus exigeant que l'est le Lorrain, et c'est quelque chose que Fleur d'Épine apprécie beaucoup!

Galichon: Il faut du temps avant que ces deux-là se fassent confiance! Galichon est naturellement méfiant, et il voit l'arrivée de Falconi au Chariot d'or comme une menace pour les Cartouchiens. C'est lorsqu'il se rend compte que Fleur d'Épine l'apprécie qu'il se laisse convaincre de lui laisser une chance. Falconi ne lui prête pas tellement attention au début, mais lorsqu'ils ont la chance de discuter un peu sans personne d'autre autour, le caractère franc et un peu bourru de Galichon lui plait. 

Isaac: À son arrivée parmi les Cartouchiens, Falconi ne fait confiance à personne et passe beaucoup de temps à redouter quelles peuvent bien être les véritables intentions de Cartouche et sa bande. L'exception à tout ça, c'est Isaac. Falconi a horreur d'être touché, et donc pour lui les soins du jeune médecin sont une torture… mais il accepte que Isaac ne lui veut pas de mal. Plus tard, Falconi garde une certaine affection pour Isaac, et montre souvent un intérêt pour ses inventions. Isaac, de son côté, apprécie cet intérêt! Mais il faut avouer que le côté froid et sarcastique de Falconi lui échappent souvent; il n'est pas rare que Falconi tente de plaisanter et que ça soit reçu moins bien que prévu :p

Who gets jealous easier?

Le Lorrain serait plus du genre à se montrer un peu jaloux, mais à vrai dire Falconi lui donne bien peu d'occasions de l'être. Lorsque le Lorrain se met inévitablement à plaisanter ou à flirter avec d'autres gens pour attirer l'attention, Falconi se contente de lever les yeux au ciel. Ou de lancer un regard assassin ou deux.

What are their parallels, whether in their personalities or their histories?

Si on parle strictement canon, leurs personnalités et la trajectoire de leurs vies sont des reflets. Le Lorrain est né de famille noble, il avait tout et était pourtant quelqu'un d'arrogant et vaniteux qui prenait toute compétition (perçue ou bien réelle) comme un affront. Il choisit néanmoins éventuellement de laisser cette vie privilégiée derrière lui et de devenir quelqu'un de meilleur. À l'inverse, Falconi, au départ, n'était personne et n'avait pour ainsi dire pas grand-chose. Tout ce qu'il avait, c'était un talent pour le combat et un désir brûlant de prouver au monde ce dont il était capable. Falconi avait toujours été quelqu'un d'ambitieux, mais suite à son duel avec le Lorrain, il laisse cette ambition le consumer et devient cruel et impitoyable face à quiconque s'oppose à lui. 

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other's ear in public?

Le Lorrain, qui a le don de toujours faire ça au pire moment possible

Do they hide anything from each other, big or small?

Pas vraiment. Falconi ne partage pas tout ce qui lui passe par la tête, et il est généralement peu enclin à discuter les détails de ses années passées à travailler pour Philippe d'Orléans, mais si un détail lui semble pertinent, il n'hésite habituellement pas à en parler. Il ne parvient jamais tout à fait à se défaire de son attachement pour le Régent, et ça c'est en effet quelque chose dont il ne parle pas, mais que le Lorrain le devine sans grande difficulté. 

Which one thinks they aren't good enough for the other, if at all?

Il faut bien du temps à Falconi pour accepter qu'il a sa place parmi les Cartouchiens. Même une fois que la décision est prise et qu'il choisit de rester près d'eux, il doute beaucoup. Il reconnaît qu'il peut leur être /utile/, mais il est plus difficile pour lui de reconnaître que les Cartouchiens l'apprécient et le considèrent comme l'un de leurs, tout simplement. La douceur et la générosité dont le Lorrain fait preuve alors que Falconi a tant de mal à se remettre de ses blessures sont des choses pour lesquelles Falconi est reconnaissant… et il doute d'avoir jamais la chance de lui rendre la pareille. 

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

Songs that apply to their relationship: i guess most of the ones i have apply more to the beginning of their relationship or riiight before? But finding stuff that matches the vibe has been a giant pain in general asdjgk

Pierre Lapointe’s 27-100 rue des partances is a Big Fave for le Lorrain in general, but the instrumental version specifically i listened to a lot while thinking about these two learning to get along and appreciate each other! i do like some soft piano, what can i say. The lyrics being tinted with regret is also a good vibe, even if it’s not a perfect fit!

Another Pierre Lapointe one: Plaisirs dénudés, which matches Falconi’s vibe a bit more! Where le Lorrain is at peace pretty quick with his feelings and decides to keep them to himself because he thinks the timing is Not Good (he’s right!), Falconi is a whole lot less confident about, well, everything.The Cartouchiens offered him friendship, and the happiness he gets from it feels extremely temporary and fragile. Those feelings he develops for le Lorrain a bit later, he develops in spite of himself… He can’t help but have the tiniest bit of hope here, but at the same time keeps trying to convince himself that none of the happiness he finds in his current situation is something that will last.

….ngl Moi, je t’aimerai has something desperately intense (and also intensely desperate?) about it that would match the first time they fuck yeah they’re all Pierre Lapointe songs what of it

What is their most common argument about?

Franchement ils se chamaillent pour un peu tout et n'importe quoi, au point où les autres Cartouchiens n'y prêtent même plus attention. Ce n'est jamais sérieux, ils sont juste comme ça :p

III. LOVE

Who said "I love you" first, and what was the situation?

Le Lorrain, pas bien longtemps après qu'ils aient couché ensemble pour la première fois. Ça sort un peu tout seul, sans qu’il y ait trop pensé! Falconi avait envie de le dire depuis un moment déjà, il a juste hésité trop longtemps… 

What are their primary love languages?

Le Lorrain expresses love with words and via gift-giving, two things he’s annoyingly talented at. He adores spending time figuring out the perfect gift that will make someone happy, and Falconi is a particularly fun target here because for awhile figuring out what he likes is a bit of a struggle? He likes a challenge! In the end, the perfect gift at the right moment is the very first thing that helps Falconi let his guard down, so le Lorrain is particularly proud of that one :p Compliments and little “I love yous” are also big faves with Falconi in particular because he somehow never seems to expect them and gets a bit flustered every. single. time. Even when he pretends to roll his eyes about it.

In return, he craves physical touch so, so much. He wants to feel warmth and closeness!! And wants gentle little touches!! The fact that Falconi in general doesn’t touch people a lot if he can avoid it makes those gestures even more significant, it makes him feel special and important in a way that makes him deeply happy. Sharing time just the two of them is also very much something that ends up helping them get closer at first; they get to, like, actually talk, and suddenly find they actually don’t hate everything about each other? It’s a habit they keep; a quiet evening together, spent just talking and reading and just finding comfort in each other’s company is something they both love. 

Falconi doesn’t like people touching him most of the time, but he will reach out to people he particularly trusts and loves. With le Lorrain, that means a whole lot of small touches; always standing close when they’re together, reaching out and touching his hand to get his attention, touching his face when they’re alone. He’ll take off his gloves just to feel le Lorrain’s skin against his hands, and while that probably doesn’t seem like much, le Lorrain knows perfectly how much love and trust that gesture implies. Falconi loves seeing these small touches reciprocated; it takes him awhile to get really comfortable with it, but it’s something he wants… Otherwise, he really tries to show affection through his actions; so often he feels like words fail him, so he figures he might as well try to show he cares in other ways. Sometimes it’s gifts, other times it’s arranging things so they can spend time alone. He’s thoughtful!

Who uses the cheesy pick-up lines, or does corny gestures?

Le Lorrain adore draguer, donc forcément les pick-up lines lui reviennent. Ça l'amuse beaucoup, et il adore s'en servir pour faire réagir Falconi. Les réactions typiques sont des soupirs agacés et des roulements d’yeux, mais dans ces cas-ci le Lorrain sait bien que c’est positif :p Pour ce qui est des gestes romantiques un peu culculs, ils sont tous les deux coupables, vraiment.

How often do they cuddle or engage in PDA?

En dehors du repaire des Cartouchiens? Jamais à moins d’être complètement seuls et certains qu’ils ne peuvent pas être vus. La seule façon de se douter qu’il y a quoi que ce soit entre eux, c’est la façon dont ils se tiennent peut-être juste un peu plus près l’un de l’autre que nécessaire, et le fait que Falconi ne laisse à peu près personne d'autre être si constamment dans son espace personnel :p Lorsqu'ils sont chez eux, ils se permettent d'être moins discrets… ce qui dans le cas de Falconi signifie chercher discrètement certains contacts physiques, et dans le cas du Lorrain signifie être limite insupportable quand il décide qu'il veut de l'attention.

Who initiates kisses? Where is their favorite spot to kiss each other?

Le Lorrain fait généralement le premier geste, et rien ne le fait plus sourire que la réaction de Falconi lorsqu'il lui enlève ses gants et lui embrasse les mains. Il rougit, c'est immanquable, et c'est une technique infaillible pour s'assurer que Falconi soit tout à fait incapable de prêter attention à quoi que ce soit d'autre, honnêtement. Il aime bien poser de légers baisers sur sa cicatrice aussi… Falconi, de son côté, adore l'embrasser sur la nuque lorsqu'ils sont couchés en cuillère. 

What are their favorite things to do together?

S'entraîner à l'épée, bien sûr! Le Lorrain aime beaucoup s'entraîner avec Fleur d'Épine, mais à vrai dire, retrouver en Falconi un partenaire de son niveau lui plait énormément. Ils n'y peuvent rien, ça se termine en compétition et avec la salle commune en bordel à chaque fois. Combat à part, ils adorent tous les deux simplement passer du temps en compagnie l'un de l'autre. Le Lorrain essaie tant bien que mal d'apprendre les bases du clavecin à Falconi éventuellement, et ces moments lui plaisent plus que tout, lui qui aime tant la musique. Quant à Falconi, il aime ces longues nuits qu'ils passent parfois à tout simplement discuter autour de quelques verres.

Who is better at comforting the other? How do they usually comfort each other?

Le Lorrain se débrouille beaucoup mieux lorsqu'il s'agit de réconforter Falconi; il sait généralement trouver les bons mots. Il a tout de même tendance à parler trop, alors que parfois Falconi se serait simplement satisfait de trouver du réconfort dans sa présence. Malgré bien des efforts, Falconi reste peu habile pour réconforter les gens lorsqu'ils ne vont pas bien. Il est mal à l'aise et a tendance à rester trop silencieux! Reste qu'avec le Lorrain, il peut toujours se rabattre sur des gestes plus physiques, et c'est quelque chose que le Lorrain apprécie.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Ils aiment tous les deux l’affection physique, même si pour Falconi il faut plus de temps pour accepter ce genre de contact. Le Lorrain adore tout de même montrer son affection par les mots. Et oui, il y a peut-être un petit carnet rempli de poèmes guimauveux quelque part dans sa chambre… 

What reminds them of each other?

L'escrime, forcément, dans les deux cas. Mais sinon…

Pour le Lorrain : ces romans à l'eau de rose qu'il aime plus que tout, le soleil qui filtre entre les feuilles des arbres, ces petites bouteilles de parfum qu'il collectionne, le clavecin 

Pour Falconi : les onyx, l'atmosphère électrique d'un début d'orage, les gants de cuir, le grattement d’une plume sur du papier tard le soir… et ces romans à l’eau de rose qu’il aime lui aussi

What do they like best about each other?

Le Lorrain adore ce sens de l’humour tranchant dont Falconi fait souvent preuve. L’intensité avec laquelle Falconi se dévoue à toute chose qu’il considère comme importante, et le fait que, malgré son apparence souvent détachée et froide, sous la surface il bouillonne d’émotion. Il trouve tout ça stupidement attirant.

De son côté, Falconi est toujours un peu surpris de ce côté doux que le Lorrain a maintenant et qui est si à l’opposé de ce qu’il était lorsqu’ils se sont connus. Il tient profondément à l’amitié que lui a offerte le Lorrain, et aime avoir trouvé en lui quelqu’un dont la présence lui donne la certitude qu’il est à sa place. À vrai dire, chacun d’eux a cette forte impression que la présence de l’autre fait de lui une meilleure personne…

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Les habitudes sont difficiles à briser! Pendant bien longtemps, le Lorrain reste le Lorrain, et Falconi reste Falconi. Très franchement personne n’a utilisé le prénom de Falconi depuis bien des années ; le Lorrain l’appelle Nero et il lui faut quelques secondes pour réaliser qu’on s’adressait à lui et réagir. De son côté, Falconi aime bien l'appeler "Louis" une fois qu'il l'a essayé à quelques reprises! Ça reste quelque chose qu'il préfère garder pour les moments plus intimes.

Who remembers the little things?

Tous les deux! Falconi est observateur à un point qui est parfois limite agaçant, rien ne lui échappe. Mais le Lorrain ne donne pas sa place non plus.

How do they make up after an argument? Who is the first one to apologize?

Le Lorrain est habituellement plus rapide à présenter des excuses, mais lorsqu’ils prennent trop les choses à coeur, c’est facile pour tous les deux de s’emporter. De façon générale, ça se règle en discutant, mais Falconi en particulier a parfois besoin d’un peu de temps pour réfléchir et se calmer.

Who is more protective? Who would get into a fight to defend the other? Who tends to the other's wounds?

Ils sont à 100% à égalité sur tout ça. Ils sont tous les deux très protecteurs l’un envers l’autre, la nuance étant que la plupart du temps ils ont tous les deux parfaitement confiance que chacun d’eux sait se défendre. Bien sûr, si les choses semblent mal tourner le Lorrain n’hésitera pas un instant à se battre pour défendre Falconi… mais il faut bien avouer que Falconi sait très bien prendre soin de lui-même la plupart du temps. Et vice-versa. 

Pour ce qui est de s’occuper des blessures, chacun d’eux n’hésite pas à le faire s’il le faut. La différence, c’est que le Lorrain est du genre à dorloter son patient et à plaisanter gentiment, alors que Falconi passe sans doute un peu trop de temps à grommeler que rien de tout ça ne serait arrivé si le Lorrain avait fait un peu attention…

What gifts do they typically give each other?

Les livres sont une valeur sûre! Tous les deux aiment particulièrement les romans. Falconi devient à la longue particulièrement doué pour dénicher des parfums qui plaisent au Lorrain. Et pour Falconi… des gants neufs pour remplacer ceux qu’il finit inévitablement par user.

IV. DOMESTIC LIFE

When they move in together, who gets the most say in decorations? What do they each have to have in the house?

Lorsque Falconi se retrouve avec sa propre petite chambre au Chariot d’Or, le Lorrain est horrifié de constater que l’endroit reste très, très vide. Falconi s’attarde peu à ça: il a un lit, une petite table de chevet et une commode, le reste ne lui importe pas tellement. Ses quartiers du Palais-Royal étaient à peu près dans le même état bien qu'il y ait vécu des années! La différence, c'est que cette fois-ci le Lorrain est là pour trouver que c'est absurde et insister pour rendre l'endroit un peu plus vivable :p Est-ce que c'est une excuse pour faire les boutiques et acheter de jolies choses? Peut-être. Mais plus que tout, il veut que Falconi ait une chambre où il se sente vraiment chez lui.

Falconi trouve toute cette insistance un peu ridicule… surtout qu'il se retrouve plus souvent qu'autrement à passer son temps dans la chambre du Lorrain lorsqu'il n'est pas dans la salle commune. N'empêche, une fois quelques petites décorations ajoutées, c'est vrai que la chambre lui plait bien, et il prend plaisir à y passer plus de temps.

If they get married, who proposes, and how do they do it? Would they change their surnames?

Rien de tout ça ne s'applique, mais!! Falconi ferait la demande, sans doute lors d'un moment doux où ils ne sont que tous les deux. Ça reste quelque chose de très simple et d'intime. Pour ce qui est des noms, rien ne changerait de ce côté.

What is the wedding like? Who attends?

La vibe n'est sans doute pas bien différente de toutes ces soirées que les Cartouchiens passent tous ensemble au Chariot d'or! Et d'ailleurs, ce sont eux qui sont invités.

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like as parents? What are the kids like?

J'ai pas beaucoup d'opinions sur celle-là, à part le fait que Freluquet a pratiquement été adopté par les Cartouchiens, non? Tout le petit groupe se soucie de lui, tout en le laissant quand même faire à peu près tout ce qu’il veut! Falconi s'y attache aussi, un peu sans s'en rendre compte… Lorsqu'il réalise que Freluquet ne sait ni lire, ni écrire, il se met éventuellement en tête de lui apprendre, et s'il n'est pas le professeur le plus patient, c'est clair que tout ça lui tient à coeur.

Are either of them the "breadwinner"? Who cooks? Who cleans?

Rien de tout ça ne s'applique lol. Chacun s’occupe de sa chambre et de sa nourriture. Falconi est plus méticuleux et soigné lorsqu’il s’agit de garder sa chambre en ordre, contrairement au Lorrain qui a tendance à garder tout ce qu’il trouve joli et à tout entasser. Après, forcément, c’est beaucoup plus facile de tout garder en ordre quand on ne se donne même pas la peine de décorer…

Do they have any pets?

Ce chat qui traîne au Chariot d'Or dans quelques épisodes et qui, si on se fie aux notes de production, s'appelle Moustache! Mais c'est un peu le chat de tous les Cartouchiens, alors ça compte qu'à moitié. Falconi aime bien les animaux, en fait, mais ne se donne sans doute pas la peine d’en acquérir un pour lui seul. 

Who worries the most?

Falconi, définitivement. Il a l'habitude de tout penser et repenser mille fois… 

Who kills the bugs in the house?

Les petites bêtes ne les impressionnent pas, ni l'un ni l'autre.

How do they celebrate holidays?

Falconi n’a pas l’habitude de célébrer grand-chose, mais le Lorrain aime bien assister discrètement à certaines cérémonies et événements lorsqu’il sait à l’avance que l’on y entendra de la musique. Ça lui plait, et bien entendu, une fois que Falconi fait partie de sa vie, il prend plaisir à l’entraîner avec lui à l’occasion. Outre ça, ce genre de journée a tendance à être un peu une excuse pour les Cartouchiens pour juste se retrouver entre amis. Ce qui n’est pas si spécial, à vrai dire, mais ça leur plaît quand même!

Who is more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Le Lorrain est beaucoup plus porté à vouloir faire la grasse matinée, mais c’est bien rare qu’il arrive à persuader Falconi de rester si celui-ci considère qu’il a autre chose à faire. À l’inverse, les rares fois où Falconi décide de rester au lit, il n’a absolument aucun mal à s’arranger pour que le Lorrain reste avec lui. À vrai dire, il n’a même pas à demander.

Who hogs the blankets or takes up more than their fair share of the bed? Who puts their cold feet on the other? Who are the big and little spoons?

Falconi a le sommeil agité, et ça veut dire qu’il se retrouve avec les couvertures et la plupart de l’espace en général. Le Lorrain ne lui en veut pas trop… Mais c’est pas pour rien qu’ils n’abandonnent pas leurs chambres séparés :p Le Lorrain préfère être la petite cuiller, et ça tombe bien : Falconi, qui se sent parfois un peu étouffé par trop de contact, est plus confortable dans l’autre rôle.

Who likes to dance with, or sing for, the other?

Le Lorrain est celui qui préfère la musique, et il adore jouer du clavecin pour Falconi. Falconi, de son côté, a un faible pour la valse…

Do they have any "couple traditions", or family traditions?

Rien de notable ici, à part peut-être que le Lorrain fait le voyage vers les terres de sa famille une ou deux fois par année. Il prend plaisir à traîner Falconi avec lui.

Who is the one who always says "I don't know" when the other asks where they want to eat?

Falconi, à quoi tout ça est franchement égal. 

Who would drive, and who would give directions?

Ça ne s’applique pas, mais dans l’éventualité où ils ont à partager la même monture pour une raison ou une autre? Falconi tient les rênes, et le Lorrain se permet d’avoir des opinions sur tout et n’importe quoi. Opinions que Falconi se fait un plaisir d’ignorer.

[girafeduvexin]

bonjour tapez "écris une fanfic sur..." sur ChatGPT pour passer une bonne journée.

En exclusivité :

"écris une fanfic sur Bruel et Harry Potter"

"Voici une proposition de fanfiction sur Patrick Bruel et Harry Potter :

Titre : L'aventure magique de Patrick Bruel et Harry Potter

Résumé : Lorsque Patrick Bruel se retrouve soudainement transporté dans le monde magique de Harry Potter, il doit apprendre à maîtriser la magie pour aider Harry à vaincre les forces du mal.

Chapitre 1 : L'arrivée inattendue

Patrick Bruel avait toujours été fasciné par l'univers de Harry Potter. Il avait lu tous les livres et avait regardé les films plusieurs fois. Un jour, alors qu'il se promenait dans la forêt, il a vu un portail magique apparaître devant lui. Sans réfléchir, il est entré dans le portail et s'est retrouvé transporté dans le monde de Harry Potter.

Chapitre 2 : La découverte de la magie

Patrick était stupéfait de se retrouver dans ce monde fantastique. Il a été rapidement accueilli par Harry Potter et ses amis, Ron et Hermione. Mais il a réalisé qu'il n'avait aucun pouvoir magique pour les aider à lutter contre les forces du mal.

C'est alors que les amis de Harry ont décidé de l'initier à la magie. Avec leur aide, Patrick a commencé à apprendre les sorts de base et à maîtriser les baguettes magiques. Malgré quelques échecs au début, il a finalement réussi à lancer des sorts correctement.

Chapitre 3 : La mission

Alors que le monde de Harry Potter était menacé par le retour de Voldemort, Harry a demandé l'aide de Patrick pour les aider à vaincre les forces du mal. Ensemble, ils ont travaillé pour trouver un moyen de mettre fin à la menace.

Cependant, lorsqu'ils ont découvert le plan diabolique de Voldemort pour éradiquer tous les nés-moldus, Patrick a été pris de court. Il a réalisé que ce monde magique n'était pas si différent de notre monde réel, où la discrimination et la haine étaient également présentes.

Chapitre 4 : La victoire

Avec leur courage et leur détermination, Harry, Patrick et leurs amis ont réussi à vaincre Voldemort et à sauver le monde magique de la destruction. Patrick avait joué un rôle important dans cette mission, en utilisant sa nouvelle magie pour aider à vaincre les forces du mal.

Après leur victoire, Patrick est retourné dans notre monde, mais il n'a jamais oublié son aventure magique. Il avait appris que même dans un monde où la magie existait, le vrai pouvoir était dans la force de l'amitié et de la solidarité.

Et chaque fois qu'il écoutait "Qui a le droit", il se souvenait de son voyage incroyable dans le monde de Harry Potter, où il avait appris que chacun avait le droit de vivre dans un monde de paix et d'harmonie."

[floraplune]

The legend of Zelda, Breath of the wild : Hidden Nature

An -X avant le Fléau.

La jeune princesse Zehila aide sa soeur dans ses préparatifs pour son prochain pélerinage, partagée entre l'envie d'un voyage loin du chateau comme elle et le désir de la tirer loin de ses responçabilitées oppressantes.

Mais elle doit aussi se concentrer sur ses propres recherches sur les divinités anciennes et les civilisations perdues, dans l'espoir de trouver d'autres clefs pour vaincre le démon.

Démon dont elle sent la présence, toujours plus puissante au fil des ans, telle une épée de Damoclès.

Partie 1, Avant le fléau

Petite fanfic Zelda, avec mon OC, Zehila, qui a bien évoluée depuis sa création (il y a toujours de quoi s'améliorer).

Je la reposte ici, mais elle est aussi sur wattpad... The legend of Zelda appartient à Nintendo. Un certain nombre d'éléments viendront de théories ou de mon imaginaire.

Ne pas compter sur ma régularité...

[splendidlyinlove]

Hearts and Homes

Pairing: O'Knutzy

Rating: General Audiences

Summary: Leo is home for Christmas with his boys and his mother has given them the very important job of helping her make Christmas cookies. Something feels different, though.

CW for holiday and food mentions

Thank you to the wonderful @lumosinlove for creating these characters!

Leo's childhood home was warm around this time of year. Warm in the way the incandescent bulbs threw a soft glow across rooms (The LEDS just aren't the same Le), warm from the coastal breeze fluttering through windows, but mostly warm because of preheating ovens. 

His mother had gone all out again this year. Every year since Leo could hold a wooden spoon, Eloise Knut had him mixing cookie dough. The only difference this year was the amount of bakers. 

Finn and Leo bobbed amongst a sea of cookie trays covering kitchen counters. Finn was in the ugliest Christmas sweater one could find, and Logan kept making little disgusted faces every time the blinking Santa Claus on said sweater broke into another verse of Jingle Bells. Though, Lohan did have flour on his face that Finn had yet to mention, so, payback. 

His mother hummed along to the radio as she tossed even more ingredients into the Kitchen Aid. It all felt familiar to Leo; it was home after all, but he couldn't shake a small desire in the back of his mind for snowfall behind the New York City skyline and Canadian cabins up to their eaves in snow. It was an adjustment, to say the least, not a bad one, just one he hadn't been expecting. 

"What's going on in that head of yours, Pumpkin?"

Leo snapped his head up from where he had been staring intently at a sheet of dough rolled out on the counter. 

"It's warm." 

"It is not! It's fifty degrees out; got out my thick socks for today." 

Leo gave his mother a cheeky look. 

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that," Finn said. He was on oven duty and strictly oven duty. Logan was allowed to touch the dough under supervision. He was currently attempting to cut little gingerbread men that looked like the three of them. It was cute. It made something settle right behind Leo's sternum. 

"Oh, like you have anything to talk about." Logan poked Finn in the chest with a whisk. 

"I'll have you know, NYC winters–!" 

"So, it's warm." Leo turned back to Eloise as Finn and Logan devolved into increasingly nonsensical bickering. 

"Yeah. It's warm." 

Eloise gave him a look like she already had it all figured out. She probably did. 

"Oh, he's gone all northern on me already. Wistfully dreaming of a white Christmas in the New Orleans sun. The best I have is confetti pumpkin; hope it's enough." 

Leo laughed, and his mother smiled. He was seven years old again, stealing chocolate chips off the counter, laughing when he got caught, his mother laughing too.

They settled into a bout of comfortable silence after that. Something was still niggling at the back of Leo's mind, though. 

"It's just…" 

Eloise looked up, now rolling out her famous peppermint mocha cookie dough. 

"Yes?" 

"This is home." 

"Yes." 

"This has always been my home." 

"...Yes." 

"It's not like it doesn't feel like home this time. It's just that…" 

Eloise looked at him and smiled that knowing smile. 

"What?" 

Eloise shrugged. "Didn't say anything." 

"You're up to something." 

"I am! I'm making cookies!" 

"Mama."

Eloise chuckled. "You're in love, sweetheart." 

"...Okay? But-" 

"Oh, sugar, it's simple. Home isn't really a place. It's just love." She picked up a silver cookie cutter and started pressing out shapes. "So, in that way, New Orleans is home because it's where Dad and I's love for you lives." 

The radio across the kitchen slowly faded to the next song. 

I'll be home for Christmas…

"A home, by the way, that you will continue to visit periodically til the end of time. I'll create new holidays to celebrate if I have to-"

"Of course, I'll always come back, Mama." 

Eloise patted his cheek with a floury hand. "Anyways, but New Orleans isn't the only place where love for you lives anymore, is it?" She tilted her head towards where Logan was taking pictures of Finn attempting to balance spoons on his nose. 

"And the people that hold that love for you, bless their heart, love the cold and snow. And so, home now isn't just the New Orleans sun. It's a little colder." 

Leo could almost feel things finally slot into place in his mind. They had always been there, the strings that tugged his heart North, South, and East. He had always thought one direction would win out, but he was wrong. They enabled his heart to stretch farther across state lines and biomes, rivers and lakes, cities and farms. Home had just gotten bigger, stretching out its limbs, settling into the comfort of having more room to breathe. 

Leo held back a few wayward tears that threatened to well up.

"I miss thirty-degree weather," he said with shock and awe. 

Eloise shook her head. "Lord, help us." 

Leo laughed at the same time a telltale Ding! sounded from the oven. 

"The cookies!" Finn yelped before putting on comically large oven mitts and racing towards the oven. He took out a tray of sugar cookies and started to place them on the wire racks. Logan wandered over to where Leo was working and rested his head on Leo's shoulder. 

"What are we talking about?" 

"The cold." 

"Oh! We should absolutely ask Noelle if she'd be up to trade weeks for the family cabin next month. Maybe we could go ice fishing." 

Leo looked at his mother.

"Don't look at me, you picked him." 

Leo trembled with barely contained laughter.

"Quoi? It will be fun, Soleil, I promise." 

Finn walked over, making little Ah! Ooh! noises as he gently tossed a cookie back and forth between both hands. 

"Here, Le, taste. We need to know if it's Knapproved." 

Leo leaned forward and took a bite out of the same sugar cookie his mother had been baking since he could talk, but it tasted a little different this time. 

It still tasted like boat rides and summer heat, but it also tasted like peppermint tea and long drives. It tasted like sleepy mornings and playoff wins and bookshops. It tasted like something impossible. It tasted like the simplest thing on Earth. 

Even though Leo's love stretched across country borders, it somehow managed to all fit in that small kitchen then, tucked into the corners and squeaky cabinets. 

"It's good."

[fruitcoops]

After Midnight

Annual pride fic is here! I hope everyone is staying safe, well, and hydrated :) Character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW for alcohol/ light drunkenness/hangovers

July 1, 1:30 p.m.

“Jesus,” Remus mumbled. Pressure pinched his lower back, runching up his shirt; he dug a clumsy hand beneath himself and fumbled for his phone. It took a few moments to extract it, clamped between weak knuckles, but he managed. Handful of Twitter notifications, a text from his dad, an automatic calendar notification, sticky lips and—good god, did his hair really look that bad?

He tried to sit up and was met with an immediate (and wildly cranky) grumble from the concrete slab resting across his belly.

Remus sighed, and closed his eyes. Getting up was overrated. He didn’t even want to think about the state of the house.

June 30, 10:30 p.m.

“AYO AYO AYO!”

Kasey winced. “Christ, Harz, take some pity on my eardrums.”

“Hey, man, sorry—has anyone seen the margarita mix?”

“Side counter,” Remus noted, tipping his chin toward the kitchen. “By the sink.”

Finn’s face brightened. “Sick, thanks.”

“Gentle pours, please. Not everyone here has a college liver.”

“Please,” Finn snorted as he cracked a screw-top open. “You’re all in much better shape than those guys ever were. Knutty around?”

Remus shrugged and took another sip of his beer. He liked this kind—Sirius had picked well. “Went off somewhere with Reg. Probably gaming.”

Finn whistled through his teeth. “Not getting him back anytime soon, eh?”

“Oh, you bet,” Remus laughed.

July 1, 2:00 p.m.

“We should ban frat boys from the team.”

“Mmm.”

“All of them. Every one.”

“Mmm.”

“Or at least remove the—” Sirius paused to catch another mouthful of water directly from the faucet. For the first time in Remus’ memory, his glossy hair looked slightly dull and flat. “—lead weights from their hands, mon dieu, what did they put in there?”

“Hell. Burning, vicious, alcoholic hell.” He turned his head with utmost caution, and still felt a warning throb in the back of his skull. “I liked those ciders you picked up.”

Sirius groaned; Remus watched his forehead bump the side of the kitchen cabinet with a soft noise. “Don’t talk to me about cider right now. My tongue feels like I licked one of your sweaters.”

Remus frowned. “You like my sweaters.”

“That’s not…” Sirius straightened with a wince. Both hands remained braced on the marble. “The fuzzy stuff, it’s all in my mouth. Wool.”

Remus thought it was rather more like someone had packed his cheeks and sinuses full of cotton balls, but sharing that didn’t seem like the wisest choice. Nine hours of sleep. Dizziness still threatened every attempt at movement. The tap turned off and he heard Sirius’ footsteps approach; pressure compacted Remus’ ribs once more with a wobbly flop.

“I like this shirt,” Sirius mumbled into his left pec. His voice was thick—from his hangover or drowsiness or just giving up on English, Remus wasn’t sure. Knowing Sirius, it was a bit of all three. His stubble scratched gently over Remus’ collarbone, still damp from sticking his head in the sink. “Soft. Cute.”

“It’s one of yours.”

“Ah. I have good taste.”

“Clearly.”

The corner of Sirius’ mouth pulled up in a smile. “Hmm. Harzy and Tremz are going to be doing bag skates until their legs fall off.”

Remus snorted, trailing his fingertips through the squashed curls at Sirius’ nape. “Not to play frat boy’s advocate here, but in their very weak defense, I don’t think the punch alone did this.”

“Non. Margaritas.”

“I still think Lily poured extra in.”

“Ouais, prolab—probleb—oui. She did.”

A phone screen lit up in Remus’ periphery. He grabbed for it, stiff-fingered and extremely stuck beneath a lump of husband, and squinted into the bright light. “Pots says good morning, and that he’s going to go lay on the porch for a few hours. He loves you.”

“Mmph. Love, too.”

June 30, 11:25 p.m.

Sirius loved parties. He fucking loved them. This was the best night of his life. Second-best, after his wedding. Or third? He was happy when Harry was born. But no, his ribs were still broken then. That had to put it under tonight, because tonight was perfectly amazing and awesome, and James was his—

“You’re my favorite person,” he yelled over the music, leaning on James’ shoulder in case he didn’t hear. “I love you!”

“I love you, too!” James shouted back. His glasses had gone a bit sideways on his face. That was fine. Lily would totally fix those for him. She liked to kiss his nose, and she had once told Sirius that fixing James’ glasses made sure she got to do it. Sirius thought she might want to pick something that wasn’t so easily broken.

“Hey,” he continued with a pull to James’ shirtsleeve. “I kiss loup on the mouth.”

“I know!”

“And the cheek!”

“Why are you telling me things I already know?”

“Because Lily kisses your nose,” he explained. Maybe the music was too loud for James to understand. He looked confused. “And you can break your nose. But you can’t break your mouth or your cheeks.”

Finally, understanding dawned on James’ face. “Dude,” he said. “You’re so right. We gotta go tell her.”

July 1, 2:07 p.m.

Remus set Sirius’ phone down on his lower back and reached for his own, wiggling a little when his hips got stuck under Sirius’ torso. A displeased huff followed—he kissed the top of Sirius’ head in apology and let the popsocket slot between his fingers, just in case. He was so clammy all of a sudden.

You Have (4) New Messages From: Lion Den RAHH

everyone not dead sound off

breathing.

Technically alive. Wish I wasn’t.

who made the fucikgn margs

New Message To: Lion Den RAHH

Not dead. Margs were Harz and Lily. You fuckers need to clean up after yourselves.

He had just clicked his phone off when the screen went retina-blasting bright again. Remus let his head fall back against the armrest and immediately regretted it. It took an embarrassing amount of time to lift his head again without the room tilting sideways.

New Message From: Lion Den RAHH

Big words. Small brain. Still drunj

*drnuk

DTUNK.

Three gray dots scrolled, then vanished. Remus smiled to himself. The vindictive part of him was glad to see they weren’t the only ones in Pride-induced misery.

New Message From: Lion Den RAHH

Some1 help knutty is snorng like a fucking chainswa

Remus glanced down. “Did you know Knutty snores?”

“In planes.”

The shallow rhythm of Sirius’ breathing flexed the shirt across his back. Remus gave an appreciative rub along the valley of his spine and felt him arch into it. “Aw,” he cooed. “My poor little hungover lion cub.”

“Nooo,” Sirius protested weakly.

“Poor baby. How will you survive.”

“At least you don’t snore.”

“True.”

“Is Harzy suffering?”

“As much as he can while he’s in bed on a Saturday with his boyfriends.”

“Good.”

July 1, 12:15 a.m.

“Bonjour, hi, hi.”

An arm caught him around the waist—Remus stumbled, but within half a step he had been gathered up against a warm, familiar chest. “Oh, hey,” he hummed, dopey even to his own ears. “Missed you.”

Sirius might have returned the sentiment, but Remus didn’t hear it through the buzz in his veins and the stutter of his heart when Sirius’ mouth found his own. He staggered backward with a sharp inhale and let Sirius carry their momentum. His back hit the wall; Sirius sighed into his lips when Remus dragged a hand through the top of his hair.

He tasted like oranges when Remus bit his lower lip. “Yum.”

“Love you,” Sirius said, smiling. Their foreheads bumped and Remus pushed into it. He was rewarded with another kiss that turned his ankles to loose jello. “Non, non, don’t leave.”

“Mmm, I’m not going anywhere,” he promised through a grin.

His eyes closed as Sirius’ mouth trailed over his cheek and jaw, then down to suck at his neck. “Should’ve done this earlier.”

Teeth grazed his skin with each word; Remus shivered despite the warm night. “Yeah?”

“Before the parade.” The sway of Sirius’ accent did unholy things to his heart. Stubble teased his skin when Sirius nudged under his chin. “That way everyone could see.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Remus breathed.

July 1, 3:45 p.m.

“Did you drown?”

Sirius glared at him across the bedroom, playful and foggy. Remus grinned and took a swig of Gatorade.

“You look like you did.”

“How are you rebounding?” Sirius grumbled.

Water droplets stuck to the mirror with each scrub of the towel through his hair. He’d left it longer than usual in the postseason, fluffy around his ears and neck. Remus was inclined to keep it that way as long as he could. He met Sirius’ gaze in the mirror and took another pointed sip. “Our lady of blessed electrolytes.”

“…give it.”

July 1, 1:30 a.m.

Sweat and glitter burned crystalline in the glow of multicolored LEDs. Sirius wasn’t sure where—or who—the glitter had come from, but finding one culprit in this crowd would be a losing battle, and one that required him to stand up. There was no way in hell he was leaving this perfect place.

Remus’ eyelashes threw shadows over his freckles when he blinked. “Do you think they’ll start leaving soon?”

“I’ve been hoping since midnight.”

His laugh was everything. Quieter at first, a mischievous snicker blooming loud at the end. Sirius let his eyes fall shut when Remus leaned over. His temple nestled against Sirius’ forehead. “Hi.”

The seam of his jeans rippled under Sirius’ fingertip. His quad flexed, and Sirius felt the weight in his lap grow heavier while Remus settled in. “Hey.”

“Proud of you.”

Sirius pressed his smile to a blush-warm cheek. God, he loved how pink Remus turned on nights like this. “I love you.”

It only took a minute adjustment, and they were kissing. He kept it soft and long and chaste, more a series of small pecks brought together by their closeness than anything. The tip of Remus’ nose was cool on the bridge of his own. He nibbled the corner of that grin and tasted bright apple-sugar, chasing it with a flick of tongue.

“You’re bad,” Remus murmured with audible delight, twisting slightly. He hardly went far—most of his weight rested on Sirius’ chest and he came closer without hesitation when Sirius tugged on his hips. His golden eyes flashed in the sudden transition from hot pink to blue lining their walls. “We have company.”

“So did Dumo.” Sirius kissed the roundness of his lower lip. “When we won the Cup.”

“We can’t throw a fuckin’ Pride party and then sneak off in the middle of it. It’s cliché.”

“If this is the middle, I’m sneaking off to sleep in an hour, and you can decide to join me or not.”

Remus’ laugh was loud all the way through, this time.

July 1, 6:00 p.m.

The groupchat had grown steadily more active as the hours passed and more of their friends were revived from their howling, sharp-toothed hangovers. Remus, for his part, had already sworn off alcohol six times in the past four hours. He hadn’t been left this hard-over since his junior year of college.

A gust of wind blew in from one of the many open windows and ruffled his shirt. Remus grimaced. “I still smell like a distillery.”

Sirius (who, despite his whinging, had recovered rather fast) sniffed the air. “Ouais.”

“Thanks, baby.”

“Worth it, though.”

Remus gave him a sideways look. “Was it?”

Sirius glanced up and frowned, then set his slice of pizza down. “I liked the party.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” One of his broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It was nice, having people around. The parade was fun. Kind of busy.” He took another bite, tipping his head back and forth thoughtfully even as a gentle blush colored his neck. “I like showing you off.”

Remus liked to think he had grown accustomed to Sirius’ sweetness—to his big heart and kind words, both of which were reserved for a select few that somehow included Remus. Yet he constantly found himself left speechless, cast far out to sea by the sheer honesty Sirius saved for him.

He stretched a leg out under the table and tangled their ankles together. “Love you.” Remus tilted his chin vaguely toward the window. “Here, and out there. For us and them.”

“We should have more parties,” Sirius said by way of an answer. The blush had risen to his ears. His foot ran along the length of Remus’ shin.

“Okay.”

“I want to see everyone, and I want to love you so they know it.”

Remus’ face hurt from keeping his smile from drifting too close to utter lunacy. “Okay.”

“We should ban glitter next year.” Sirius nodded to himself, then nudged Remus’ foot. “And frat boys.”

“They’re gay frat boys, though. They have a right.”

The bridge of Sirius’ nose wrinkled. Fucking adorable. “Well, maybe they just need to pick a side.”

“Lily was partially responsible for the biohazard margaritas,” Remus pointed out, picking a piece of pepperoni off Sirius’ slice and adding it to his own.

“She’s out, too.” Sirius jabbed his pizza at him. “And you’re on thin fucking ice, thief.”

“I’ll pick her party over yours.”

“You can’t pick your best friend over the person you’re gay married to. It’s Pride.”

Remus stole another pepperoni, dodging the smack of Sirius’ hand. “Then I’ll get gay married to Lily.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Any marriage I’m in is a gay one,” Remus informed him, slouching lower in his seat to hook his calf around Sirius’. “I can gay marry anyone I want. I’ll gay marry a dozen people and go to all their parties over yours. Ha-ha-ha.”

Sirius flicked a piece of pineapple at him; it bounced off his chin, and while he was distracted, Sirius stole one of his pepperonis back with a triumphant grin. “Fine. See if any of them put up with you like I do.”

“Thief.”

A foot poked Remus in the back of the knee. “Doesn’t count if it was already mine.”

[fracturedsunsets]

dude… it’s my favorite fanfic ever

IM STILL WAITING ON THAT VAINCRE UPDATE GOD HELP US

y’all i need like 10/10 wolfstar fics that you would kill to read for the first time again.

also, i do know the more popular ones !! so i would say like maybe recommendations that are not so popular? but if you still love a popular fic and want to recommend it anyway then go ahead ahaha

last thing, i’m more of a muggle au person, but then again if there’s a hogwarts au that you’d die for then plz do tell me

[splashofstrawberry]

If you could write some fluff for after the new Vaincre chapter tomorrow that’ll be great, literally any kind of fluff. Maybe the cubs

Welcome to my “little picture” of the boys playing in the rain! I hope that it’s sufficient! It’s so short, my apologies.

“Leo, get back in here before you slip and die!” Finn called from the sliding glass door.

Dumo, Celeste, and the kids were out of town and it was Leo, Finn, and Logan’s job to feed the fish and check on the plants while they were gone for the week. They had pulled into the driveway mere seconds before it started to downpour. Logan, who was upstairs feeding the fish, had no idea that Leo had decided it was his duty to go weed the plants in the middle of a storm.

“If the weeds take over the plants die, I’m not letting Celeste’s garden die because you’re scared of water.” He called back. Finn rolled his eyes as he watched Leo squat down and pluck at the weeds, his curls quickly getting weighed down by the water and sticking to his forehead.

A moment later Finn heard Logan clunking down the stairs. “Why’s the door standing open?” He asked, brushing his hands on his jeans.

Finn looked back at Logan, “Leo decided it was time for a shower.”

“Huh?” Logan moved his way over to where Finn was standing, accepting Finn’s arm around his shoulders. Logan sighed, “and he’s out there getting drenched for what?”

“Oh, there are weeds in Celeste’s garden,” Finn toyed with the seem on the shoulder of Logan’s shirt. “You should go retrieve him.”

“Why me?”

“Because.”

“That’s the whole argument?” Logan looked at Finn in disbelief.

“Yep. Go on. Fetch.”

Logan grumbled something about not being a dog and getting rained on but Finn couldn’t quite make out what he said as he ran into the yard. Logan tackled Leo into the yard, likely getting mud all over the sweatshirt he’d borrowed from him who knows how long ago. Finn could hear their muffled voices and laughter, drowned out by the rain.

Somehow Leo ended up on his back with Logan tickling his sides. Finn shook his head, happy that he was first of all, not being tickled, and second of all, not being tickled in the rain and mud.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Leo called before whispering something to Logan. A moment later Leo and Logan were on their feet running towards Finn.

“Oh no- no, no, no, don’t you dare!” Finn said as they got closer before Logan jumped at him. Instinct alone cause Finn to be able to catch him, though he did nearly fall.

Logan pressed kisses to Finn’s cheek as he was koala-ed to him- legs wrapped around his torso and his arms around his neck. “You are the worst how dare you,” Finn said.

“You sent me into the rain, this is payback,” Logan replied.

“Ah yes, the usual payback of kisses to the one who needs them like he needs air. Oh the horror.” Leo said sarcastically, topped his head to the side causing a water droplet to roll off the tip of his nose. His hair was dripping onto his face, making his lips look softer and more pink than usual.

“You’re just lucky I didn’t fall.”

“Oh you wouldn’t have fallen. And if you did, I would’ve made sure to get plenty of pictures for the team!” Leo told him with a cheeky smile, his dimples doing their thing.

Finn reached a hand to Leo, encouraging him to get closer. He cupped Leo’s face and kissed him gently. “You’re both kind of annoying, you know that?” He told them.

“Oh yeah. We know. Don’t we lovebug?” Leo replied poking Logan’s back before laying his hand flat between his shoulder blades.

“We sure are!” He said before kissing Finn on the cheek once again. “But you love us, you really, really love us!” He sing-songed.

“Uh huh. I hope you know you aren’t getting in my car like this.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait,” Leo smiled.

“Or you can walk.” Finn let go of his grip on Logan, causing him to start slipping.

“You wouldn’t!” Logan whined.

Finn smirked. “No, I wouldn’t. But wouldn’t it be fun!” He said as if talking to a toddler.

“You’re really annoying,” Logan said, pressing his face into Finn’s neck, tightening his grip on his waist with his thighs. Finn placed one hand back on Logan to stop him from slipping, the other to reach for Leo’s.

“I know,” he replied smiling. “But seriously, what are we going to do about your clothes?”

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

part vi

~

cw: brief mentions of past injury and past outing and anxiety

~

December

And then the cold came, the dark days

When fear crept into my mind

~

December brought loses, and not just Remus’. By the handful. Like coal in a stocking, bulky and bitter. Remus couldn’t help but feel like his own frustration was leaking onto Sirius, who slowly but surely, regained the tightness in his shoulders. Through Sirius, it trickled over the rest of the team, tar-like and sluggish.

“All right,” Marlene said from behind the camera, blond hair obviously carefully curled that morning but thrown into a stressed, messy bun now. “Remus. Loops. Re. Babe. It’s one line.”

“Yeah, babe,” Finn said from the sidelines, arms crossed over his elf costume, the bells on his shoes and cuffs jingling as if spurred on by his sly grin.

Remus narrowed his eyes at him, but repositioned himself on his mark. He was sweating a little in his Santa suit and beard.

“I got it, I got it, sorry,” Remus sighed.

“You more bad than Cap,” Evgeni said helpfully from the sidelines, nose painted bright red and antlers worn proudly. “We make good, Remus, let’s go. For fans.”

“Got it,” Remus huffed out a laugh. “Jeez, guys.”

“Where is Cap, anyway?” Marlene asked.

“Went over to Dumo’s earlier this morning,” Remus said. “Visiting the kids.”

Truthfully, Sirius had been almost skittish this morning. All nervous laughter and uncharacteristically uncoordinated limbs. He’d all but tripped out the door. Remus didn’t know if it was the loses piling up or Regulus due home from school for vacation in a few days.

“All right,” Marlene said. “Ready now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remus grumbled, “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Is fun,” Evgeni insisted.

The camera’s light went back on, Marlene pointed to him with two finger-guns, and Remus mustered his best Evgeni-level baritone.

“Ho, ho, ho, it’s a Lion’s Christmas!”

“Thank fuck, finally,” Marlene said, clapping her hands. “Jesus, thank you.”

“I’m out,” Remus grimaced, tugging the fake beard off his face and gasping for air. “Harz, you’re up.”

Finn sauntered in front of the camera, squatting a little with his butt out. “Marls, am I a good elf or a bad elf?”

“Bad elf,” Leo’s voice sounded from the back of the room where he was precariously trying to keep a BLT sandwich from falling apart.

Marlene just closed her eyes. “This is the longest day of my life.”

It was a fun day at the rink, watching all the guys have to put on a series of, by the end of it, slightly sweaty costumes. Logan was forced into a reindeer outfit post land exercises, and Cole didn’t look too happy slipping it on next. Logan just laughed at his wrinkled nose.

But the Captain was missing.

“We’ll have to snag him later,” Marlene was mumbling to one of her assistants, eyes on her clipboard.

“Maybe after that radio interview? Tuesday?” the assistant replied.

Remus looked down at his phone. Where are you? he’d typed out. The words turned blue as they sent. Still at Dumo’s?

Here! was the only reply.

“Remus,” Pascal’s voice came, and Remus looked up clicking his phone off.

“Hey, Dumo,” he said, glancing over Pascal’s coat and scarf. “Did you just get in?”

“Don’t lie,” Pascal smiled, slipping his scarf from around his neck. It was slightly lumpy—Remus recognized his son Marc’s handiwork from Sirius’ present last year. “You’re looking for the Captain.”

“Maybe,” Remus smiled. “How’re the kids?”

“Happy with the ever-revolving-door of new teenage boys to wake up early,” Pascal said with a nod to Cole who passed them clutching a travel mug of what Remus knew was Celeste’s perfectly brewed coffee. Remus’ eyes roved the hallway behind him, inhaling slowly. It smelled like new carpet, the way it always had. Then why did everything feel so off?

“That’s good,” Remus replied distractedly.

“Okay,” Pascal laughed and turned Remus around with an arm around his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

Remus spared a last glance behind him. “Nothing’s wrong, but you can’t deny he’s been…”

“Backsliding,” Pascal finished for him, taking a sip of his own coffee. “Yes, why do you think I had him come over with the kids?”

Remus nodded. “All right, all right. Point taken.”

“He’ll be okay,” Pascal said as they reached the locker room doors. He raised a thick eyebrow towards his neatly pushed back hair, feathered with gray. “Are you?”

Remus sighed. “Pascal…”

“You cannot be a hockey player if you think it’s all your fault,” Pascal said gently.

“I know that,” Remus said quietly.

“Let yourself be a part of the team,” Pascal said after a few moments. “Okay?”

Remus was yanking at the straps of his pads, dressing for practice, by the time Sirius appeared. He received a few shouts of greeting, and made to go to Remus when he was stopped by Marlene’s assistant. Remus watched him nod a few times, then smiled at the skeptical grimace that crossed his face, no doubt at the idea of dressing up for a Christmas video.

“Hey,” Sirius said when he had escaped. He crossed the room before Remus could get up. “You were still half asleep when I left this morning,” He pressed his hands to either side of Remus’ stall. “Come here.”

Remus smiled and leaned in for his gentle kiss. “That’s because you all but jumped out the door.”

Sirius just kissed him again.

“Good morning,” Remus whispered.

Sirius just smiled at him, swiping his thumb over Remus’ lip. Remus couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“What‘s with the face?” He asked.

Sirius pulled Remus in again, just brushing their lips together this time. “Nothing. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Remus smiled, and stood. As he stood, he caught Logan’s eye and his smile faltered.

Logan had a funny look on his face. His green eyes darted away once he realized that Remus was looking, looked back with a quick smile, and then busied himself with his stick tape. Remus frowned, and then watched Leo notice, too. Leo nodded at him, then shrugged, eyes flicking to Sirius.

Remus thought of Logan’s words at the bar, with Thomas. All the things they’d shared.

Be a part of your team.

Remus had felt like it that night. Even more so than on the ice. Snorting laughter with Logan and Thomas, despite the heaviness, oh-so different for each of them, that weighed around their necks.

“We’re doing special teams today, boys,” one of the assistant coaches called out. “All right? So, that’s Black, Potter, Olli…Harz, Tremzy, Reyes.”

Remus’ chest deflated a little. He wasn’t sure if it was in relief or disappointment. Was he really so embarrassed that he was relieved to not be the attention of practice? He didn’t want to be.

A slump was a slump.

“I think I want to go home,” Remus said, and Sirius looked up, confused.

“Over the holidays,” Remus elaborated. “Instead of my family coming here.”

They had already booked the flights, and some small, older part of Remus winced at that, but he had money now, an NHL entry level contract was more than enough. He could just buy more flights. Sirius could buy tons.

Sirius nodded, obviously still taken aback at the sudden declaration. “Uh, oh. Okay. We can do that. It’s not that long, but…”

“I know,” Remus said, and suddenly felt small. “Two days are enough.”

“Two days,” Sirius repeated. “Yeah. Yeah, d’accord.”

Remus nodded and looked back down at his skates.

~

Hey, Sirius, we wondered if we could ask you about your partner, Lupin, of course.

Remus flexed his fingers against the steering wheel. The city’s main street flowed past slowly outside his windows. What would Julian prefer? More Gryffindor merch? That was barely a present anymore. Maybe a video game. Remus wanted to find something perfect. Something that made up for the, lately, more than infrequent phone calls. Something in Remus couldn’t stand to listen to the silence in between Julian’s words. His older brother was in the NHL. And, frankly, he sucked at it.

You two haven’t been the same on the ice. And I know your preseason performances gave a lot of people a really good feeling. Lupin’s not seen much ice time at all, actually.

These things happen, Sirius’ voice said. To all of us.

Remus bit his lip. Put on his blinker.

Well, what’s it like? the host asked. Playing with your boyfriend?

Remus is a valuable member to the team, Sirius replied. Of course, he’s valuable to me, as well, personally, but that doesn’t matter on the ice.

How could it not, though? another interviewer asked with a laugh in his voice. I guess what I’m getting at is, do you wish you guys were always on the same line? I bet that’d be the dream.

Ah, Sirius laughed. Non, I mean, there are some certainties in our team right now. I’m happy every day that Remus is with us, but I’ve been playing with James for…

Remus didn’t completely hear the rest of his sentence. He jammed the car into reverse, pulling into a parking spot. He felt stupid. He pulled his phone out.

Where are you?

The reply was immediate. Staring at your car.

Remus huffed out a breath, pulled his hat back over his ears, and shoved his door open.

“Hey,” Lily said, fists deep in her pockets and bouncing on her heels in the cold. “What’s with the murder face?”

“Nothing,” Remus said defensively. “I don’t have a…”

Lily raised an eyebrow.

“I just,” Remus groaned. “I just want to shop. Okay? I just want to look at the Christmas windows and I want to find a cute present for my baby brother, and I don’t want to think about Sirius right now.”

Lily snorted, dark red painted mouth curling up. “Who said anything about Sirius?”

Remus paused from where he had looped their arms together. “I don’t know.”

“All right, all right,” Lily said, squeezing their linked elbows. “I want hot chocolate.”

Within a hour, Remus was laden down with far more than a gift for Julian. He had a new, expensive set of oil paints for his mom, an adjustable textbook stand for Regulus, and a large bag of sour candy for Logan. Thomas had a portable photo printer that plugged into his phone.

“I have no idea what to get him,” Remus sighed. “Why is he so hard to shop for?”

“Oh, he’s just he now, is he?” Lily laughed. “God, what’s got you so wrapped up with your boyfriend? And not very happily, I could add.”

“I’m happy,” Remus said. “I just don’t know what to get him. What do you get the star of the NHL?”

Remus made a protesting noise as Lily yanked him to a stop in front of a particularly bright window display consisting of red and green mirrors that reflected dazzling lights on some sort of white sweatsuit. Remus all but squinted down at her.

“Your not shopping for the star of the NHL,” Lily said, green eyes stern. “You’re shopping for Sirius. I don’t shop for ‘James Potter, Gryffindor Lions top six, Hart trophy finalist.’ I shop for James. My James, my best friend, the father of my baby boy.”

Remus looked towards the darkening street, busy with shoppers. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What happened?” Lily pushed. “This isn’t like you. In fact, not much has been like you lately—”

“He all but said he didn’t want to play together,” Remus snapped. “On the radio.”

Lily blinked in surprise. “Is that was he said, or is that what you heard?”

“Jesus,” Remus sighed, adjusting his many bags and moving around here. “I don’t need another talk about how this isn’t my fault.”

“Then stop making leaps in your head,” Lily said, following him. “Stop putting words in my mouth.”

“I have to get home,” Remus said. “Sirius’ll be waiting for dinner.”

Lily tugged him around one last time, grip like iron. Remus glanced down at her slender fingers, surprised.

Her cheeks were flushed against the red hair blowing against her face in the cold. She looked like she badly wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite decide what.

“Talk to him,” she settled on after a painful beat of silence. “Just…if not me, him. If not him, someone.”

Remus gave his head a small shake. “About what?”

Lily just sighed and released him. “I’m parked over there.”

Remus took one look at her disappointed eyes and nodded shortly, turning away. The gifts didn’t seem to weigh him down half as much as the feeling that settled over his chest.

It was dark by the time he pulled into their garage. His stomach was growling and the hot chocolate had made him unbearably thirsty. He welcomed the blast of warm house air as he opened the door, sparing a glance to the calendar. They had an early team weight session tomorrow and he was glad. He felt like he’d burn up with the restlessness in his muscles.

Sirius didn’t call out with the opening door, and Remus frowned, letting his bags fall to a heap by the kitchen table.

“Sirius?”

“In here!” came his voice from the living room.

Remus followed it, shrugging out of his coat and gloves as he went. When he reached the living room, he stumbled to a stop on the threshold.

Sirius glanced up from the TV, controller in hand, seemingly unfazed by Remus’ sudden stop. “Hey. How’s Lils?”

He said it so casually, like the dark strands that had been curling almost to his shoulders for months weren’t sheered clean away, tighter without the added weight and scooping upwards above his ears.

“You cut your hair,” Remus said.

Sirius shrugged, leaning to the side a little with the mock effort of moving the figure on the screen. “Yeah. Marls pulled me in for the holiday video and I just…I don’t know, I decided,” He hadn’t even paused the video game. “You don’t like it?”

“I…no, it’s not that, I just…” Remus let his eyes wash over him. “I didn’t know you were going to.”

“Thought I’d change it up. It’s not like I’m scoring.”

Remus could only look at him. Sirius’ phone chimed and he glanced at it, then flipped it over.

Of course. Of course it would be related to their ice performance.

“Right,” Remus said tightly. He knew Sirius hadn’t meant that as a dig at him, but it still felt like one. He cleared his throat.

“Heard the interview.”

Sirius sighed. “Re, they do these things—”

“Will you pause the fucking game?”

Sirius didn’t look at him for a moment. The figure hovered between two motions on the TV, a strange, glitching motion, and then Sirius set the controller down.

“What’s wrong with the interview?” he asked, turning towards him on the couch.

“They—“ Remus hesitated. He felt his hands curl into fists. “You sounded so…unbothered. About me.”

“What would bother me?” Sirius rose. “Re, we’ve talked about this. It’s just a slump.”

“It doesn’t feel that way!” Remus snapped. “I…God, never mind.”

He turned on his heel, back towards the kitchen, strange, unwelcome tears at his throat.

Sirius didn’t follow him. Remus thought he heard the TV turn back on, heard the swoop of a sent text.

He was being ridiculous. He took two pans off of the wall. Opened the refrigerator.

He felt so unbearably guilty.

“Baby,” Remus called, clearing his throat again. “What do you feel like for dinner?”

He heard Sirius’ shuffling as he stopped the game and turned the TV off. He appeared around the corner a moment later, already walking for his coat.

“I’m actually going out with Logan.”

Remus studied his back, the tight pull of his wool coat across his large shoulders. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to wait up if I’m late,” Sirius said, offered a shaky smile, and then was gone.

Remus listened to the garage door opening and the car start.

Sirius hadn’t even kissed him goodbye.

~

Logan was woken up by a strangled shout from the living room. No less then two seconds later, he heard the bedroom door open, there was a beat of wind-filled silence, and then a six foot hockey player landed on his legs full force. Logan groaned and heard Leo do the same from where he was spooned up against his back.

“Boys,” Finn all but shouted.

“Harzy, Jesus,” Leo mumbled.

“Wha’time,” Logan cracked an eye open.

“Alex got traded to the Rags,” Finn said, and gave a loud whoop, bouncing his weight down on the bed twice. “Boys! He can come for Christmas.”

Leo pushed himself up onto an elbow, blond hair pressed down at one side from the pillow. “Wait, seriously?”

“Gotta call him,” Finn said, and was gone just as quickly as he had come, phone already up to his ear.

Leo snorted, then looked back down at Logan. “Wow. Wake up call.”

They jumped when their actual alarm went off, sending Leo reaching across Logan’s chest to turn it off. Logan looped his arm under Leo’s shoulder, keeping him in place. He all but felt Leo’s smile in the kiss placed to his forehead.

“Finn will love being closer to Alex,” Leo said.

“Alex will be closer to Kase and Natalie,” Logan replied, and opened his eyes, combing his fingers through the soft hair at the base of Leo’s neck.

“Hm,” Leo nodded, pulling back to look down at Logan’s face. He laughed at the sleep that still lingered there. “Good morning. Happy game day.”

Logan’s mouth twitched towards a smile. “Are you going to really say that every time we have a game?”

Leo just grinned and leaned down for a proper kiss. “I am.”

~

Sirius watched his team circling the ice for warm-ups against Detroit. The crowd blurred their red and gold with some more festive colors. The last game before their short Christmas break always had the feeling of the last day of school. Sirius didn’t actually like it much. He felt a twitchy sort of unfocus from everyone around him, his own teammates included. He knew, before the game even began, that, though they’d all try to win, there wouldn’t be much hitting or fowl play tonight. Like the Christmas truce in La Grande Guerre.

His eyes found Remus across the rink, stretching out with Timmy and Olli. He looked so beautiful, helmet off and hair curled and slightly sweaty already from his pre-game warm up. Sirius’ chest hurt thinking of the previous night. Remus hadn’t asked about the sudden departure. Sirius didn’t have an excuse.

“If you want him to stop suspecting something, maybe stop staring at him.”

Sirius looked over at Logan, who had an unimpressed look on his face. Sirius sighed, busying himself with tapping a puck between the blade of his stick.

“He’s angry with me,” Sirius said.

“He’s angry with himself,” Logan amended. “Believe me. I know the feeling. And so do you.”

“Did he talk to you about it?”

“Yes,” Logan said shortly. “But not so I could tattle to you.”

Sirius groaned. “Tremz…”

“Stop staring at him,” Logan said. “For the sake of the cameras if not your surprise.”

“No one’s going to be focused,” Sirius said. “We’re going to have so many turn-overs, just like the last…fuck number of games.”

Leo, leaning against the boards for a water break, let out a low whistle. “Say it how it is, Cap.”

Sirius just set his jaw, eyes down. He didn’t remember the last time they won a game. They were falling rapidly in the division standings. Soon, he worried that there wouldn’t be anywhere left to fall.

Sirius pushed away from the boards, picking up another puck and wrapping around towards Remus, their eyes caught, and Sirius did almost stop. But he flipped at the last second, skating with quick cross-overs, back towards Remus, and shot hard at Kasey in the net. Kasey gloved it easily.

The first ten minutes of the period went quick, and Sirius couldn’t help but glance at Remus out of the corner of his eye. Coach was sitting him. Remus had barely moved, and he looked like he was just winding up tighter as the game went on and his teammates came and went around him.

He’d been asleep, or pretending to be, when Sirius had gotten home from dinner with Logan—who had brought Finn along. He’d been hoping to leave even before Remus got home from shopping with Lily, but when he’d heard the garage door open, he’d been afraid to speak. It all felt close to spilling out; his secret.

“I don’t know if I should do it now,” Sirius had said to Logan and Finn. “He’s so unhappy.”

“Dude,” Finn had replied. “If there’s ever a time to confess your undying love to someone, it’s when they need your support.”

“But,” Logan had added. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be about marriage. Maybe it could just be you and him, away from all the pressures on the ice.”

He’d come home even more unsettled than he’d left. The ring, shoved in the back of his underwear drawer, seem to let off a high pitch sound, a faint ringing that Sirius was worried Remus could hear.

“Black!” Coach shouted. “Tremz, Pots!”

Sirius blinked. He hadn’t even been paying attention to the game. He hesitated too long, Coach angrily had called to Finn instead, and the whistle blew for too many men on the ice.

“Jesus, Black, do I have to sit you, too?” Coach called.

“Sorry, Coach,” Sirius said. He was burning. Remus glanced at him.

“Get out there,” Coach said. “Lupin, to the box.”

Sirius’ chest gave another lurch. That was an unspecific penalty. Anyone could serve it, and Coach had chosen Remus. He watched Remus slam the door to the penalty box a little too hard, and keep his eyes down, away from the crowd on either side of him.

In the second, Sirius hit cross bar four times before finally sneaking in a goal. His lungs were aching from his long shifts, and he rested his stick across his knees, bent over on his way towards the bench when the siren went, signaling the beginning of the second intermission. It didn’t even matter. They were down four. Reyes had had a miscommunication with Olli, letting number 24 right through their defenses to slip one between Kasey’s blocker and the ice.

Sirius’ lungs were only just beginning to loosen when they made it out of the tunnel, towards the locker room. He dropped his wet gloves in the bin held out by Layla and felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Baby,” Remus said softly.

Sirius almost shook him off.

“Hey—hey,” Remus curled his fingers until Sirius gave, ignoring the glances they were getting from Logan and Pascal.

“Quoi?” Sirius asked, then felt like shit. Remus’ golden eyes already looked dull. But Sirius was trying so hard. Remus hadn’t budged the last few weeks, had been silently curling into Sirius’ embraces, only to pull away again when the conversation hit a nerve, or he winced at something in his own mind.

“I know when you’re beating yourself up,” Remus said firmly.

Sirius clenched his jaw and pulled away, shouldering around him. “Marlene wants me for intermission.”

“Talk to me,” Remus pleaded from behind him.

“What?” Sirius turned on him, accent heavy. “Like you’ve been talking to me?”

Remus snapped his mouth shut, looking away. “You’ve seen tonight. This game. What’s there to say?”

Sirius closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. “Come here.”

He didn’t want to talk in front of just anyone. Not about this. Preferably, he didn’t want to talk here at all, but this was the moment Remus had chosen and Sirius was thankful he’d finally chosen a moment at all.

He found a carved out little corner of chipped white hallway. Once no one passed for a few moments, Sirius stepped forward and took Remus’ hands.

“You don’t have to say anything to talk to me. But you’re…quiet. Please don’t avoid it. Don’t avoid me.”

“I don’t avoid you,” Remus said.

“A little you do,” Sirius said more quietly, thumbs swiping gently across Remus’ knuckles. “After a bad game, like this one, you do a little bit.”

“I’m…” Remus swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“I want to be there for you,” Sirius said. “I want to be with you. For my entire life, d’accord?” Suddenly, fear sunk its teeth in a soft bite. “You know that, don’t you?”

Remus nodded quickly, but he wouldn’t look up.

“It’s Vegas,” Remus said, ducking his head. “That’s all. Probably. It’s coming up. But—Jesus, I asked about you.”

“I just want us to win,” Sirius said. “Yes, I get like this. But I know I get like this, and I’ve gotten help figuring myself out, my own signs. You? I’m not sure you know that yet.”

Remus’ eyes finally snapped up. Sirius shrunk away. He was angry again, and his voice came out low. “You’re not sure I know how to figure myself out? What, like this is brand new to me? Like pressure is so new to me?”

“This is new,” Sirius couldn’t help the edge in his voice. “You think I like this? How public this is? We are? You think I want to be asked why my boyfriend gets benched?”

He knew he’d toed over the line even as the words slipped through. He let out a harsh breath through his nose, closed his eyes for a moment.

“Re…”

“Don’t,” Remus tugged his hands free and they stood there, silent. Sirius was still breathing hard from the game, and it only seemed to uneven the field they were standing on opposite ends of further.

“Remind me to give you the car keys,” Remus said quietly, finally. “You’ll need them to get Reg later tonight.”

Sirius hesitated. “You’re not coming?”

Remus raised a half-hearted shoulder. “Take him out for dinner, he probably missed you. I’m just going to…I’m kind of whipped.”

Sirius watched the 6 on his jersey disappear around the corner, and ran a hand through his sweaty hair.

“Talk to me,” he sighed under his breath. Marry me.

He went at Marlene’s call of his name.

Sirius’ breath fogged the air as he opened his door when he saw Regulus exit the Arrivals terminal. It smelled like airplane fuel and cold. Sirius wondered if Remus would want to go alone to the airport, when his family arrived. He hoped not.

He mustered his brightest smile, but Regulus just snorted, seeing right through him.

“Uh-huh, who do you take me for?” his little brother asked, and shoved his suitcase at Sirius to put in the trunk. “Sorry about tonight’s game.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Sirius sighed, and hurried them out of the cold air.

They ended up squeezed into the back of one of Sirius’ favorite restaurants. The waitstaff knew him, were used to him—wouldn’t let anyone bother him. They had welcome him and Remus with open arms, given them private tables when the fuss of Remus joining the team had yet to die down.

Regulus tore a piece of crispy bread in two.

“Did you bring it?” he asked. It was nice just the two of them. They could speak French. It would be mostly English with Remus around, and at family skate.

Sirius glanced up from the menu he didn’t need to look at. “What?”

Regulus gestured, like it was obvious. “The ring. I want to see.”

“Non, I came straight from the rink. I don’t just carry it around with me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Sirius laughed, folding the leather booklet closed. He sighed, and reached for a piece of bread himself. “We actually—”

Sirius was cut off by the waiter bringing him his favorite wine. They were near the front tonight, given the late hour.

“Actually…” Regulus raised an eyebrow, picking up his glass.

Sirius settled back in his chair, the bars of the back feeling good on his sore muscles. He should have done more of a cool down, but after the loss, after Remus…

“We fought,” Sirius finished. “Tonight. Between the second and third. I keep saying the wrong thing.”

“What did you say?”

“I don’t even know,” Sirius shook his head. “I mean—I do but I didn’t mean it like that. It wasn’t even all bad. Like we know how much we love each other we just keep—it’s like we just keep missing each other on the ice.”

Regulus seemed to hold his wine in his mouth a moment. His eyes were bewildered, and Sirius spread his palms in confusion.

“Quoi? You asked me!”

Regulus was still for another moment, then finally swallowed and leaned forward.

“All right…I’m sorry, but…” he paused, shaking his head. “What the fuck does hockey performance have to do with how much you two love each other?”

Sirius stared at him.

Regulus stared right back.

The restaurant went a little fuzzy, the noise a little dim, and Sirius’ blood seemed to rush at him. It started up a throbbing headache at the base of his skull. Every time he thought he was getting better…

“Fucking maman,” Sirius breathed in realization.

“I think the phrase is motherfucker,” Regulus nodded. “But…yeah. Guess that’s a hold over from whatever we call a childhood.”

Sirius covered his face with his hands. “Jesus. Nothing. Nothing, it has nothing to do with how much I love him. I never meant…”

“D’accord,” Regulus eased. “But, if you’re really just having that a-ha moment now, any chance you’re projecting the wrong message onto Remus?”

Sirius kept his face covered for just a moment more. He breathed in, then out. Had he been? Was that how Remus felt? He thought of the I’m sorry, even that first night. Sirius suddenly didn’t want the steak dinner that was coming. He wanted to go home. But Regulus was shoveling more bread into his mouth and…he missed his little brother. Remus would be at home. Sirius would try to explain.

“Okay…D’accord, merde, well, I’m gonna fix that, but enough about me,” Sirius said, pressing his water-glass-cooled hand to his flushed cheek. “Tell me about school. Tell me about your normal life, is it everything you wanted?”

“My friend keeps sneaking Central Park squirrels into her dorm.”

Sirius just stared at him as Regulus smirked, cutting into his steak.

Sirius closed the door to their bedroom, on a last pointed look from Regulus down the hall, and stood on the soft carpet for a moment, at the end of their bed, listening to Remus in the bathroom. He eyed his drawers, where the ring lay. Everything in him wanted to make Remus smile.

He needed to explain. He didn’t even know where to begin. He was…embarrassed.

Sirius tugged his t-shirt off, tossing it in the direction of the hamper, then thought better of it and went to pick it up and place it inside. He replaced his jeans with sweatpants, tugged his hands through his newly cropped hair. It was a relief to have it off of his neck.

Remus didn’t look up when Sirius entered the dim yellow light of the bathroom. The bathroom tiles were warm beneath his feet.

“When my ankle was broken and swollen, I use to come in here and just stand on the heated titles,” he said into the silence.

Remus didn’t look up from where he was running a washcloth under the tap. Steam rose from it, flushing Remus’ cheeks.

“Oh,” he said shortly. “Like a heating pad. Could work.”

He’s just frustrated, Sirius repeated to himself. It’s not you. He winced. It’s not only you.

“You don’t need to score goals for me to love you,” he said firmly, neck hot. God, his chest hurt from how hard his heart was going.

Remus didn’t seem to notice. He huffed out a laugh. “I sure hope not.”

Sirius closed his eyes then looked down at his feet. “Re…I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said that earlier. I’m sorry I didn’t defend you more in that interview. You…”

“I don’t want you to be sorry about it,” Remus replied. His sandy hair fell into his eyes in a way that, in the mirror, made his entire expression unreadable. “Sometimes you can be my boyfriend, but out there you also have to be my captain. I really understand.”

“We’ll—“ Sirius took another step forward. “I’ll get better at balancing the two. It’s hard, Remus. Everything in me loves everything you do. But I can’t look at it that way as a captain, and it’s hard, and I am sorry.”

Remus didn’t move. Just braced his hands on either side of the sink. Sirius risked another step forward, and then settled one hand on Remus’ waist. When he didn’t pull away he matched it on the other hip, and them slid his arms forward, pressing Remus’ back against his front. Their eyes met in the bathroom mirror. Sirius held his gaze as he pressed a gentle kiss to Remus’ neck, right over his even pulse-point—or, no, it was fast. Nervous, even. As nervous as Sirius’ felt.

“Do you regret it?” Remus whispered.

Sirius pressed a hand over Remus’ chest, right where he could feel the pounding, rubbing gently with his thumb. He kissed Remus’ neck, his jaw, until it slowed some, until Remus was leaning back into his embrace, head tilted to rest back on Sirius’ shoulder.

“Never,” Sirius whispered back. “Mon loup. Never.”

Remus was silent, tilting into Sirius’ gentle mouth, his words.

“I’m sorry I’m not helping you more.”

Remus’ eyes flashed open. “You’re…”

Sirius didn’t let go, but shook his head. “I don’t mean on the ice. I mean here. I…I’m too close to what’s happening on the ice, I think. There’s nothing I want more, but I’m not. I see that now. I never want to push you too hard and I…I never want you to feel like you can’t come to me. But I also know you have an entire team of people who love you, too.”

One corner of Remus’ mouth raised, just a little. “You sound like Dumo.”

Sirius arched a brow. “Dumo confesses his undying love for you while kissing your neck?”

Remus bit back a more full smile. “No, but that’s an interesting image.”

Sirius feigned a gasp, mouthing with a scrape of his teeth at Remus’ neck. Remus turned in his arms and their mouths met in a slow kiss. Remus made a soft sound into it, almost like relief, and Sirius ached a little with the way he seemed to sink against him.

“I’ve been horrible,” Remus breathed. “I know, God, baby, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking—frustrated. And I shouldn’t have been pushing you away, you know exactly what this is like. It’s not your fault.”

“And us losing isn’t yours,” Sirius stroked a hand through Remus’ hair.

Remus bit his lip, didn’t look quite convinced, but nodded with a sigh. “I’m going to make Reg a full fucking bacon-egg breakfast to make up for how much of a grouch I was downstairs.”

Sirius snorted. “Grouch.”

Remus laughed, tiredly but more happily, and settled a palm against Sirius’ cheek. “You do help me. Maybe not…maybe not directly with this. Whatever it is. But tonight…tonight you helped me. Here. Just the two of us, on these heated bathroom tiles.”

Sirius held him tighter. “Julian’s coming soon. Does that make you feel better?”

“Mhm,” Remus said. “And you.”

Sirius smiled gently, and Remus bit his lip. It was his relaxed summer smile, not the tighter one he gave in the middle of a failing season.

“It’s not summer anymore,” Remus sighed. “I think part of me liked having you all to myself too much.”

Sirius laughed. “I’m not going to complain. But I know what you mean. It’s the real world now.”

Remus pushed up on his toes, requesting another kiss. “I like you in the real world.”

~

Thomas was never going to stop kissing Noelle. He didn’t care that a family of six was trying to maneuver three luggage carts around them. He didn’t care that Noelle’s flight had come in at four in the morning and he had practice at ten. He cared that she was holding him just as tightly as he was holding her. A small, scared part of him hadn’t been sure that she would. She smelled like stale plane air and her perfume, something sickly sweet that Thomas hadn’t liked at all at first, but he buried his nose into her neck now, feeling her fingers trail over his closely shaved head. It felt good. He was overheated from keeping his coat on in doors, from the anticipation, and her hand was cold.

“I missed you,” she whispered. “I missed you, I missed you.”

Apparently this was a Tremblay thing. Say it three times, and you mean it.

“When we fought, me and the girls and Lo,” she had told him that summer, half a croissant in her mouth. “Half of the fights was one of us thinking the other wasn’t really sorry. My dad came up with it. If you mean it, you say it three times. I didn’t think much of it, but it caught on. And you don’t think to say something three times when you’re screaming at your sibling, but you might when you have to say you’re sorry.”

He noticed Logan do it sometimes. He heard three I love yous, or three repeated assurances to Finn that he had played well. He wondered if Logan’s boys knew what it meant. Part of him hoped they didn’t, that Logan hadn’t thought to tell them, and that it was his secret about this beautiful girl. He repeated the words back, six times, making Noelle laugh.

“Non, non,” Noelle protested when he tried to take her bag. “Your foot, baby, I’ve got it.”

“It’s as good as healed!” Thomas protested, flexing his ankle to see. “Our PT’s got magic fingers.”

Noelle laughed, and tucked herself under his offered arm. “Do I still get to push you around on a chair for family skate?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Thomas said. “As long as I’m not watching through a screen.”

Noelle grinned. “Speaking of lack of screens. I’m gonna kiss you stupid when we get home.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Certainly not.”

Thomas wrapped her up tighter as the sliding doors leading to the parking lot opened for them. “I missed you so much, Christmas. You have no idea.”

“Bet I have some idea,” Noelle pressed a hand to his chest. “I can’t stand those sad brown eyes of yours, though.”

Thomas bit his lip, shrugging.

“It’s been hard,” he settled on. “Watching the team lose and not being out there to help. Also knowing we’re both doing what we love but…”

“Not close enough,” Noelle said.

They stopped at the car, and Thomas skidded her suitcase to a halt to cradle her face gently in his hands.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be close enough to you.”

Noelle smiled and pushed up as far as she could, then looped her arms around his neck to pull him down.

“One way to find out,” she whispered into the first kiss.”

~

Natalie opened the door before Alex was even half way down the apartment complex hallway. It made for the perfect runway, a running leap. Alex dropped his bag, his suitcase, and caught her, laughing.

“You freaking scoundrel,” Natalie said and then leaned down to kiss him.

“Hm,” Alex mumbled into it. “It’s not my fault twitter’s as fast as me. I did tell you first, though.”

Natalie bit at his lower lip and pulled gently before release. “Barely.”

Alex just shook his head, fond and happy, and used the hand not supporting her legs around his waist to move all of her blond hair over one of her shoulders, bending to kiss the bare side of her neck.

“Missed you, gorgeous.”

“Will you two get inside?” Kasey’s voice rumbled from where he was leaning against the doorway. Alex held Natalie closer with the way his heart pulled. They were both in sweatpants, Natalie’s rolled at her hips—Alex’s sweatpants, the ones she had stolen on her visit. The media was still asking him about that one after someone had snapped a picture of them at dinner. Dinner, O’Hara? With your former teammates girlfriend?

He’d just smiled. Not that it’s any of your business though, right?

Natalie hopped down with a kiss to his cheek and tugged Alex and his suitcase inside. Alex looked Kasey up and down as he passed his broad chest on his way inside the apartment. Kasey gazed back, brown eyes made even darker by the dim light of the apartment. They had their Christmas tree standing squat and short in one corner, already with a few gifts beneath it. Alex spied his name on some of the tags and wanted to drop into their arms again. He didn’t have to mail his gifts this year. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to mail them any time soon. They took up most of his suitcase. He’d wear Kasey’s clothes if he really didn’t have anything, or Natalie would jump at the opportunity to buy him something new. And Christmas morning. They were planning it with Finn and the boys. Alex loved the idea of all of their families together. Hockey was hockey, it was everything, but it was also unbearable distance. Sacrifice. The relief from it made him dizzy.

“How many string lights can one apartment hold?” Alex laughed, looking around. They wrapped around the loft’s banisters, loped along behind the TV and at the edge of the kitchen’s splash back.

“You spoke too soon,” Kasey said as Alex turned towards him. His hair was a tangled mess, like he’d been napping, and he smelled like sleep and warmth when he, finally, pulled Alex in. “She insisted on saving some decorations for you.”

Alex grinned into the kiss and, as he felt Natalie press against his side, the feeling of an anchor settled deep in his chest with a pleasant little tug.

He woke up the same way, Kasey’s eyes locked on him and Natalie tangled together.

“We going skating, or what?” Alex whispered into the morning light. “Ready for me to score on you?”

Kasey’s grin was the same one he wore behind his goalie mask. “You wish.”

~

Logan felt guilty about it, but he wished Cole wasn’t there, across the rink, with his mother. Cole didn’t know anything, Cole was new, and that meant Logan couldn’t hold either Finn or Leo close. The cameras present prevented it, too, of course, but they were being kicked out so that the families could be alone. There was only so much footage one could use.

Logan was tired of waiting.

Kris, who had his daughter in his arms, and Leo who was asking her questions about her favorite Frozen character, looked over at Logan when he skated to a stop beside them. Logan took a slow breath, and Leo seemed to catch on. Logan watched his long legs, clad in dark jeans and regular skates for once, rather than his longer-bladed goalie ones, lead him away from the group beneath the ruse of a chase towards Finn.

“You okay?” Finn asked. Had they been alone, Logan would have expected a gentle hand to his cheek, through his hair.

“Do you trust Cole?” he asked.

He didn’t have to say more for them to know what he meant. They looked surprised, though.

“You…” Finn blinked. “You want to…”

“I want to skate with you both,” Logan said, then huffed. Say what you mean. You’re allowed. “I want to be with you both. For this. We didn’t get it last year, so…”

“Yes,” Leo said, smiling softly. His nod was firm. “I trust Cole.”

“Do…” Finn jerked his chin in Cole’s direction. “Now?”

“I’ll go,” Logan said. “If it goes bad, I don’t want him staring at all three of us.”

“It won’t go bad,” Leo said firmly. “Cole’s great. Reg and I are taking him to dinner over New Years.”

Logan looked back over. Cole was now leading Katie around the rink with small, careful strokes. Logan tapped his stick against Leo’s, then Finn’s shins, and pushed his way over.

“Reyes,” he said, coming to a stop in front of Katie. He took a knee, the familiar, easy smile crossing his face. “Are you skating, ma petite?”

“Tremzy, I’m doing it, see?” Katie grinned from her bundle of warmth—puffer jacket, winter pom-pom hat, and scarf, all impossibly small.

“You are,” Logan smiled, sharing a hidden laugh with Cole.

“All by yourself,” Cole nodded seriously, keeping a tight hold on her little hands.

Logan had maybe been a little jealous at first, of Cole taking his place at the Dumais’. Not every teenage boy was happy to be surrounded by kids all the time. He’d briefly—half jokingly—considered stealing Katie away to their apartment for himself. Logan wanted a daughter someday, he decided firmly as Katie let go of Cole’s hands and with two wobbly pushes, fell into Logan’s arms. Logan held her tiny form as tight as he dared, her arms squeezing around his neck.

“You stay with me for a moment, okay?” he whispered in French, and scooped her into his arms.

“Cute, hm?” Logan said, as he fell into stride with Cole.

Cole’s smile was fond as he looked at Katie. “Very. Except when broccoli is involved.”

“Ouais,” Logan laughed, remembering. If Katie had been his daughter, he could say she got her sweet tooth from him. “Um. Reyes…”

Cole look expectantly at him, and Logan held Katie closer.

“Um,” Logan said, and felt his neck heat. “So, I live with Finn and Leo.”

“Leo,” Katie repeated happily, watching some of the Weasley kids toss a puck around.

“Right,” Cole nodded, obviously confused. He still had the new-rookie look of being intimidated by the entire team. It reminded Logan of himself. It reminded Logan of Sirius, of Leo.

Logan realized that he had no idea how to do this. He glanced behind him, looking for Finn or Leo, both better with words. He’d said it to Sirius, back at All Stars. He’d said it to his family. Why was this harder?

“Right,” Logan mumbled, eyes down, watching both of their feet skate slowly around the outer edge of the rink. “So, I…”

“They’re together,” Cole blurted, then flushed. “I—sorry. Jesus, sorry, I just…right? I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“I…” Logan really wished he hadn’t.

“They’re…not?”

“How did you…”

“I thought I saw something,” Cole looked more nervous than Logan felt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. I know that…I didn’t mean anything bad about them.”

“Why does them being together mean something bad about them?” Logan replied.

“It doesn’t,” Cole said quickly. “Fuck, it doesn’t. I just—some guys in this…area of work…think that. I thought…I didn’t know what you meant. Sorry.”

For the love of God, Logan thought. Cole was worried Logan would be offended on his friends’ behalf that he had implied they were together. He didn’t blame him. That was how most locker rooms worked a lot of the time.

Logan looked down at his skates again, at the soft rhythm of their strides, gathering himself. Cole’s nerves were putting him off, but he supposed it was good that he was so nervous. And that he’d suspected and hadn’t blinked, though Logan still wondered what he’d seen.

He stopped their strides with sharp turn.

“It’s not Finn and Leo,” Logan said, and realized he could hear his own heart in his ears. “It’s Finn and Leo and myself.”

Cole stared at him for a moment. Logan watched his eyes find Finn and Leo somewhere behind him and wondered if they were looking or pointedly not looking.

“I didn’t get to be with them last year at family skate because I’m…” Logan huffed out a breath. “I’m…never mind. But I want to be able to this year. And so I’m telling you. Sorry we didn’t.”

“It’s okay,” Cole said softly. He smiled a half smile, eyes warm. “I’m the new rookie. I get it. I’m…I’m glad you thought you could.”

“Please don’t—”

“Not mine to tell,” Cole said, and then nodded to where Logan guessed Finn and Leo were lingering after all. “See you for the scrimmage, yeah?”

Logan just stared after him as he skated away. Something about his words…Logan liked them. They weren’t, I’ll keep your secret. They were it’s your truth to tell.

He felt Leo’s presence before he saw him. He brushed up against his shoulder, nice and close.

“Okay?” Leo said softly. He was smiling, blond hair bright beneath his gray beanie, and poked Katie’s tummy, making her giggle.

“I’m exhausted,” Logan mumbled, and then took Leo’s hand and squeezed it, warm all over.

~

“Heads up, Jules!” Adele called as she passed a puck to Julian, who took it up ice with a control that filled Remus with pride.

“He’s been practicing,” he said to his mom, and Hope smiled, nodding.

“He has. I think for this very day.”

Remus laughed, and then tried to be subtle about scooting just a little closer. He knew it was a bit of a travel pain, but he was glad to be going home for Christmas. He missed the familiarity of his living room on Christmas morning. Not that he would jump out of bed like Julian, but if he did, he’d know just where to step to keep quiet.

Hope patted his thigh. “You know I’ll be nothing but happy to see you and Jules on our old go-to pond again, but I have to ask…”

Remus smiled. “Uh-huh, I know you do.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re the ones with the mansion and guest quarters with its own kitchenette.”

Remus laughed. “What? I just thought it would be nice.”

Hope raised an eyebrow, wrapping an arm around Remus’ shoulder. “Gryffindor’s making you a little squeamish these days, baby. I can see that. You don’t have to lie to me.”

Remus felt warmed by the fact that his mom could still do that to him.

“I…it’s not really a lie, even if you’re right, too.”

“Okay,” Hope nodded. “True.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t…” Remus said after a moment of biting his lip. “It feels like it did after my shoulder. I can’t do anything. It makes me—not scoring makes me miss hockey. Even when it’s right in front of me. And missing it makes me mad, and then I’m mad and I can’t score.”

“I’m going to turn into the substitute teacher I was for about two years before I realized I do not like teaching groups of twenty children,” Hope said, then put on a mockingly slow voice, making Remus snort. “I heard the phrase I can’t in there about twenty times.”

“Mom,” Remus laughed. “I’m not trying to do long division, I’m up against the greatest players in the world.”

“Which probably means a lot of people thought you qualified to be one of them.”

Remus looked down. “I’m worried about Sirius.”

“Oh, yes, the most pressing issue. What’s it like to have a boy who can’t keep his eyes off of you?”

Remus glanced up through his lashes. Sirius was, indeed, glancing over at them. He smiled, maybe a little hesitantly, and went back to talking to Layla and Nado.

“What if I’m letting him down? He hasn’t said anything, but…and he’s been, like, not sneaking around but…I don’t know.”

“How?” Hope said, looping her arm through his. “How would you let him down, baby? Tell me.”

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head.

“How are you different than your teammates when they do something wrong?”

“They weren’t the PT,” Remus blurted. “No one’s questioning that they have a right to be here.”

And there it was.

“Because they’re not dating the captain,” Remus continued, feeling small. “And no one’s wondering whether this is all some weird sort of favoritism. Something that was bought.”

“Of course you’re thinking about that,” Hope said. “No, you’re not the same as them. They didn’t go through what you did in college, and they didn’t go through what you did last year. They didn’t have their future and then their privacy stolen from them. But you are,” Hope said around slight tears in her throat. “deserving of everything you have fought for. All the time spent being a wonderful person when the world didn’t make it even a little easy.”

Remus swallowed hard. “Mom…”

“You have to start believing it first,” Hope said softly, offering a smile. “Believe me. You deserve to be right where you are.” She kissed his cheek. “And go easy on yourself. Okay?”

“Remus!” Julian’s voice came, and Remus sniffed, laughing as his mom did the same.

He nodded, squeezing where their arms were linked. “Okay.”

“Re, you have to get changed for the game,” Julian skated fast, crashing into the boards in an excited heap. “Come on.”

“I’m coming,” Remus said, rising and trying to blink his wet eyes away. “All right, all right, cool it.”

Remus felt good after getting changed. He liked listening to Finn and Alex banter, liked seeing how happy Thomas was as Noelle changed into her gear beside him.

“Pascal,” Sirius called out as they filed out of the tunnel, already poised at center ice, spinning his stick idly between his two gloved fists. “You’re not stealing Remus from my team this year.”

“Oh,” Pascal smiled. “How sweet, is that what you think?”

Finn just snorted, holding up the quarter he had just been making disappear and reappear for the kids. “Heads or tails?”

“Heads,” Sirius said without hesitation, and looked at Remus. Remus tilted his head with a grin.

Finn whistled as he smacked the quarter on the back of his hand. “Heads it is, Captain.”

“Loops,” Sirius crowed happily, holding his arms out for Remus to skate into.

“Why don’t you let the cameras stay for this cute shit,” Marlene shouted from the bench.

“Nothing’s cute when there are cameras around,” Logan shouted back from where he was nestled under one of Leo’s arms, despite both of their bulky padding.

Remus knew his parents and little brother were watching, but he let himself linger a little in Sirius’ kiss anyway, just because he could. Just to show himself how far he’d come from secrecy. Sirius seemed to be having the same thoughts, tilting Remus’ chin up for another quick kiss when Remus made to pull away.

“My line,” Sirius said.

The teams divided up pretty evenly after that, and Julian dropped the first puck before scurrying out of the way as Sirius and Pascal went for it hard. Sirius won it, but Noelle defending with Thomas was basically as brick of a wall as Kasey was. Remus was panting with the effort to keep the pass Sirius had shot him. He tapped it back to James, laughing when Harry let out a happy, high-pitched scream from the bench. Their laughter ruined whatever play they were thinking of, and Noelle all but cackled when she stole it back, passing it to Logan.

“Do something, baby bro!” she shouted.

Remus thought he heard Logan curse under his breath as Remus shoved him into the boards two seconds later.

“Sorry, Tremz!” Remus laughed, and got the puck back to James.

“No boarding!” Coach hollered from the bench. “If I have to put someone on IR in the name of Christmas, I’m going to be real angry!”

Remus’ entire attention was drawn to Sirius’ delighted laugh that sounded as he nipped the puck back from James, who had taken it from Logan again. Remus watched him skate hard, and pushed into a long stride to catch up.

“Cap!” Remus shouted as he dodged around Logan’s block. Thomas, double-teaming just behind Logan, swerved with him, and for a moment, Remus thought he was going to miss the pass. But he picked his stick up, pushed hard off his skate to get to the right circle, and pivoted again. The puck hit heavily on his stick blade, and Remus snapped it towards Leo, just above his right shoulder.

The goal light lit up. There was no horn, not for just a scrimmage, but there might as well have been with the amount of noise his teammates—his family—put up. James slammed into him, then Thomas and Logan. He felt the light bump of Leo’s goalie mask from behind him.

Remus let out a breathless laugh and raised his head, looking for dark hair.

“Re, Re, Re,” he could hear Sirius’ voice, laughing again. Remus almost cared about that more than the goal. Sirius had looked so sad the other night.

Do you regret it?

And then Sirius’ mouth was on his, still laughing, half kissing.

“Maybe we can still read each other’s minds,” Remus laughed helplessly, then grinned at the arms wrapped around his hips and looked down. “What do you think of that, Jules?”

“We’re winning,” Julian all but tried to pick Remus up in his excitement. “New lines, new lines!” He shouted, waving almost frantically at the others. “Keep playing, we have to keep the momentum going!”

Alex laughed as he skated onto the ice with Finn. “Maybe you should be the coach, little Loops.”

Remus’ attention was drawn back to Sirius with a kiss to the cheek.

“Nice to see it’s still there,” Sirius laughed, then faltered.

Remus tried to hide his wince, keeping his arms tight around Sirius. “Ouch.”

“Non,” Sirius said. “Fuck, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay,” Remus sighed, leaning into Sirius’ shoulder. “I’m glad to see it, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said into his hair. “That was such a stupid thing to say.”

“Kind of,” Remus laughed. The words were rolling off of him right now. Sirius hadn’t meant it like that and, truthfully, he was glad to see that he could still score a goddamn goal. Even if it was just in a scrimmage against Kasey.

Sirius shook his head, pressed a gloved hand over his eyes. “It’s not what I meant, Re.”

Remus just pressed a hand over Sirius’ chest. “It’s okay. Really.” He leaned up for a quick kiss. “Really. I was just as surprised as everyone else.”

“I…I’m a little pent up, I guess.”

“No way, really?”

Sirius just groaned through a laugh and dipped his head into Remus’ shoulder. Remus let himself settle into it.

“We both are,” Remus whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered back. “I just want us to be…I really meant it as a good thing.”

“Baby,” Remus said. “I’m only going to get annoyed if you keep apologizing. It’s really okay. I know.” He took Sirius’ cheeks in his palms until their eyes met. They were a little red from being on the ice for so long. “It’s okay.” He peppered a short kiss to Sirius’ mouth. “I’m…I’m trying. I think I feel better. Today’s been really really nice.”

Sirius’ smile was a little smushed by Remus’ palms. “I’m still excited to watch Hope baby you.”

“Baby me?” Remus laughed, giving Sirius a shove. “I think we both know you’re her new favorite one to baby.”

“Love birds,” Alex called in a sing-song voice. He had a Rangers hat on, Remus noticed. “I am patiently waiting to score on my boyfriend. If you could move it along.”

Sirius looked down at Remus. “Hat trick, just for his tone of voice?”

Remus grinned back. “Definitely.”

[slithersnakexx]

I just read the newest chapter of Vaincre, and I’m feeling so many emotions right now. Like on one hand, I’m crying sad tears cuz Logan, and on the other hand, I’m crying happy tears for Cap and Loops. I CANT LIVE LIKE THIS!!!! It felt like this sick drop in my stomach and now I’m cryingggggggg why

I didn’t expect to feel emotions today, and I’m just wrecked rn. Loved the new chapter, but damn my heart hurts