#listen i saw that scene where he literally rammed a man into a wall and haven’t been the same since

[starlooove]

The Jackie lives au in my head

[ladyfeldspar]

By the power vested in me by my RNG, I give you...

6x09: Free Hat (aka the reason I broke the second disc of Season 6)

This is hella long, sorry not sorry.

Some days I think season 6 is my favorite season.

Tweek standing behind the other three at the SP sign will never cease to make me happy. <3

I hate ET because I think he's a creepyass little alien and I don't appreciate seeing him first thing in this episode. 😂

Okay but I love when Kyle's saying, "...to make ET more PC," he's doing little air quotes with his one hand, like:

Stan: "That's gay." Back when saying things like that was only mildly offensive and wouldn't cause riots.

I've never seen Saving Private Ryan, and I know that it's said that it can be really triggering for people who have actually been to war and everything and I don't want to diminish that in any way, but whatever I paused on here looks like some kind of nether realm squid ghost monster and it's amazing.

I love the progression of their expressions here: angry, unimpressed, concerned, and "why is this happening?!"

And they're all so excited for Star Wars, that's the cutest fricking thing! I would love to see Tweek and Craig watching Star Wars together, just try and tell me that wouldn't be adorable!

ALL OF THEM ARE SO MAD! I fucking love when Tweek gets the little angry eyebrows.

I will never ever not want to hug him whenever I see Tweek shiver like crazy while the other kids just stand perfectly still.

The message in this episode is actually so good though. "Movies are art and art shouldn't be messed with!"

"Yeah we could form a club that takes food stamps from poor people and then we could sell them back to the government for a profit!" Tweek’s face here is priceless.

Poor Tweek. There's kind of a pattern in these episodes where multiple times he tries to stand up for himself or walk away from the main kids, but Cartman bullies him into staying and it just breaks my heart. As opposed to Craig in the Pandemics who's just like, "Fuck this." And as much as I adore all of the S6 Tweek episodes, I'm really glad he didn't stay hanging out with them for any longer and that he went back to the group of guys that are actually his friends. <3

"I'm not, I'm not a team player!" 😭 That being said, I could listen to Tweek talk all day.

"You have to offer fabulous prizes if you want people to show up to your stupid crap!" is just the S6 version of, "More people will come if they think we'll have punch and pie!" 😂

Stan: "Tweek, you go make fifty hats." Look, okay, I don't hate Stan, all right, but what the hell dude, go make your own hats! Why would you give the anxious kid a big responsibility like that!? At least have Kyle help him or something. Like you say you need to get the gymnasium ready which means what, make a banner and set up some chairs? And you're telling me you couldn't have split up the making of the hats? Jesus Christ.

(Yeah, okay, I know, chill out, they're 8.)

I posted this on my Tumblr before, so I'm not going to do it again, but that TINY LITTLE SHRIEK THAT TWEEK DOES after his dad says his name. I just. Literally. Die. Of cuteness. Every single time. It's my favorite Tweek shriek of the entire show, hands down.

On another note, his bedroom is so empty in this episode compared to in Tweek x Craig! I wonder what changed between here and then.

Tweek being able to calm himself down with some meditation is honestly so cute. And look at his happy place! I would love to have this on a shirt or a bag or just like as a piece of art hanging on my wall or something.

Cartman's giant face showing up there. 😂 I remember the first time I saw this episode that actually startled me so much.

"I was up, all night, making hats! I only slept for an hour- and then I DREAMT about making hats! But I only made fifteen!" - This has been one of my favorite lines since forever. I make it my status on things a lot and then everyone asks me why I was making hats all night. 😂

I love Stan's expression here.

"I don't have nearly 1000 hats!" "They're gonna kick your ass, Tweek!" 😡😡😡

Look at this shot! It really looks like Stan is the only one remotely concerned about Tweek's well-being here.

We get so much of Tweek yanking on his hair in this episode. </3

How am I less than five minutes into this and I have talked this much?

The townspeople are literally so stupid. Good job, Skeeter.

Stan makes good speeches when he wants to. Although, you know, you shouldn't make promises without fully knowing what you're doing.

Only Tweek would think going on a TV show is terrible news. (Just kidding. I agree with you, Tweek.)

I've never understood the "1-2-3, dibs!! "Knee!" thing. Like I know what dibs is, but where I come from knees were never involved.

Typical Cartman. I feel so bad for Tweek, but I love when he looks down to see "Advocate of Toddler Murder" underneath him. Cartoon logic is the best logic.

There's also a lot of good Tweek shrieks here too.

"It's easy!?" "Yes... It is easy."

"We believe that films have to be taken away from people like Steven Spielberg and George Lucas because they're insane." The way Kyle matter-of-factly delivers this line kills me every time.

They honestly made SS and GL look so creepy. 😂

I like that Cartman's voice kind of cracks when he's like, "That's Steven Spielberg and George Lucas!"

Someone just let Tweek go home, please!

"Uh, we thought we were speaking for the children." "Yeah, we're children."

"I'm not a Jew!" 😂 Thank you, George Lucas.

Okay, full disclosure, when I first saw this I hadn't seen Raiders of the Lost Ark and I didn't get the big deal. 😂 But I do now!!!

"He...killed 23 babies in self-defense?" "Hat was attacked maliciously and unprovoked by a gang of babies in West Town Park. When that many babies get together they can be like pirahna!" 😂 I say this all the time.

Skeeter. 😂 Honestly, you are no help at ALL.

Second time this episode Tweek tries to say no and walk away.

"People aren't that into you, Tweek. They find you kind of annoying." This is so meta because I remember people complaining all the time that Tweek was a one-note character and that he had nothing really to add to the show and I just want to say SUCK IT TO ALL THOSE PEOPLE BECAUSE LOOK HOW LOVED TWEEK IS NOW. Everyone who was on board the Tweek train from the very beginning say, "Cupcakes!" 😂<3

These kids, man. I love that it’s so easy for them to just get into all these places.

"Get it, Tweek!" "Huh-uh!" I love the way Tweek says no. But, I mean, AGAIN, he tries to say no and Cartman bullies him. I don't think he ever really wanted to be in their group in the first place. I think they picked him arbitrarily in Professor Chaos because they saw him as weaker than them, and then Cartman just didn't let him quit.

The little debate about melting his icy heart with a cool island song is also something I quote often. AND THEIR LITTLE OUTFITS! I love that Tweek's is green and pink! I don't know what the hell is going on with the sleeves on everyone else's though.

"Those rams can do to us what they will, Mr. Lucas." 😂

Oh, George Lucas. You were so close to being a hero.

Stan: "Fuck you Steven Spielberg!" I've watched this censored so many times that hearing it uncensored is so fricking satisfying.

RUN TWEEK RUN!!!

The walkie talkies are such a nice touch. 😂

"The one with the cocaine problem escaped, Mein Director."

Mannn, I miss when they used to throw live action "commercials" into the episodes like this. This also is from the time where I was like hella attracted to Trey Parker so seeing his face is always welcome. 😂

"We always meant to have Imperial Walkers and giant Dewback lizards in the background, but simply couldn’t afford it."

Oh my God, I'm always so proud of Tweek for talking to this huge crowd of people and trying to get them to help him! His little talking through his teeth, like, "We are not talking about Hat right now, okay?!" He's trying so hard!

"Oh God, I'm gonna have to do this myself! Oh, God!" just breaks my heart! YOU CAN DO IT, TWEEK! 13 seasons from now you'll have someone who helps you believe in yourself, just hang on!

Tweek with the bazooka, oh my gosh, always makes me so happy. I can't tell you how much I wanted him to just blow them all the fuck up the first time I saw this.

"All I want are my friends. Except for Cartman, you can keep him." YEAH, TWEEK!

I hate that Steven Asshole Spielberg manages to talk enough crap to make Tweek hesitate. He was so close! I wonder how he would have felt if he actually did it though, Maybe it's better he didn't? It might have made his anxiety worse if he actually blew people up now that I think about it.

"In the tropical isles with the coconut trees, the air is fresh and the people are free, but here in the mountains there's no freedom like that, there's a man in prison and his name is Hat!" This gets stuck in my head so often.

It makes it so much better having actually seen Raiders, especially for this part. I honestly thought the melting faces was just a South Park thing but nope.

I also really love what they look like turned away with their eyes closed too. <3

Like what even is going on in this scene. 😂

Oh my God, okay, and I know that Hat is a terrible person and I want to clarify just in case, I do not think killing babies is funny, but just the way that baby crawls up the person's arm to avoid getting passed to Hat is always so so funny to me and I can never explain why.

Tweek being the only one to be appropriately horrified by the fact that Hat is being given a baby.

"Sometimes the things we do don't matter right now. Sometimes they matter later. We have to care more about later sometimes, you know? I think that's what separates us from the Steven Spielbergs and George Lucases of the world." This is still so relevant.

The ending of this episode is also so much better after actually seeing Raiders. 😂

And we close off with a 9/11 joke. Perfection, Matt and Trey, thank you & goodnight.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

ok! so i was listening to does your mother know that your out, right? and at the same tine a video of angelina jolie came into my feed, you know her being iconic. and so i started thinking 👀 a smut where like a 22 year old rami is like being cheeky and flirty with a woman older than him, she at first is indifferent to him, which gets him super nervous. so now she started to take an interest in him, which gets him even more nervous and her more confident. and she has super bde and don vibes

I was in the middle of a Papi/Dega request when this came into my inbox and captured my muse ... and I mean threw a pillowcase over its head and threw it in the back of a van and MADE me write this. Thank you, Anon, for this brilliant request.

* * * * *

Rami was captivated by her, and so were most of the men, and a few women, at the afterparty. Granted, he was new to this side of the acting scene having just finished a minor role in a fairly big stage production in New York City, so instead of walking up to the woman and jostling for a place in her queue, he stayed back and watched.

He felt out-of-place, not at all filled with the confidence he had in LA. Yeah, LA was LA, after all, but he knew people there, and he knew enough about how Hollywood worked to fit in.  

Here . . . for maybe the first time in his life, he was the odd man out.

As Rami turned away from the beautiful woman and shuffled over to the bar, a flash of a scene from his and Sami’s favorite novel, The Great Gatsby, popped to the forefront of his thoughts.

When Nick felt out of place, he got roaring drunk. Sounds like a plan to me, Rami thought, his 22-year-old self feeling more at ease knowing he was about to rely on good, old-fashioned liquid courage.

Rami ordered a beer and a double shot of tequila.

One tequila, two tequila, floooor, his mind sang to himself as he ordered another round of each, his initial wave of discomfort beginning to wane.

By the time he finished round three, he knew he had to talk to the beautiful stranger. Clearly, she was someone of importance, maybe even someone famous.

Rami stood up from his barstool, and wobbled, which wasn’t unusual. There was rarely a time in his life when he didn’t have a bruise or a cut from falling down or running into something. Sami had clearly gotten the balance gene.

Rami missed his brother terribly, never imagining they would be living in different cities. He looked to his left and sighed, wondering what Sami would say if he saw his twin, Rami Malek, high school flirt, afraid to talk to a woman.

Shoot your fucking shot, Ram. Why wouldn’t she want to get to know you? his brother’s logical voice sounded in his mind.

“Shoot my shot,” he said under his breath as he made his way to the more crowded part of the room and began looking for the woman.

He didn’t have to look long, and he also couldn’t believe his luck: there she was, standing alone and looking at a large fishtank that was in a darkened corner of the room, the only real light coming from the tank itself.

His balls in his throat, he walked quickly to where she was standing, reminding himself to put one foot in front of the other, lest he fall flat on his face.

His brother would be in stitches if that happened, and the entire family would know within the hour.

But Rami made it, right-side-up, and before he could lose all his nerve, he blurted out, “Nice fish, huh?”

The woman glanced over at him, a bit startled.

“Oh, yes. They are. I always lose myself in my thoughts when I watch them swim. I don’t know exactly why I find it so soothing.”

Rami just stared at her as she spoke, completely smitten. Her speech was so articulate, definitely that of a fine stage actress.

Or someone very, very wealthy, Rami thought, once again thinking back to his favorite novel.

The woman looked at him, clearly expecting him to reply, but he couldn’t find the words.

“Uh . . . huh,” he managed, still studying her face.

She was older than him, but by how much he wasn’t sure—at least a decade. Her face held a sort of vitality that was hypnotic. This was a woman who lived her life by her own accord, a woman who knew things, a woman who held the promise of things that were just . . . good.

“I do apologize, but have we met?” she asked, bringing Rami out of his stupor.

“Uh . . . uh, no. I don’t think we have. I’m an actor. I was in the production,” he finished lamely.  

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “Johnny. You were Johnny.”

Rami looked at her, taken aback that she made the connection.

“Yeah. Yeah, I was. I’m—” he faltered.

She raised her brow, encouraging him to continue.

“I’m surprised you knew that.”

“It’s my business to know, Mr. . . . Malek, I believe.”

Rami gave her the same quizzical look, and this time she laughed. In that moment, he thought that if he could only listen to one more sound for the rest of his life, it would be her laugh.

“Rami. My name’s Rami,” he said sticking out his hand.

She slid hers gracefully into his, but her grip was strong, professional.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, and I’m pleased to officially meet you, Rami Malek.”

No, no. If I could only listen to one more sound for the rest of my life, it would be her saying my name, he thought.

“Do you mind if I ask . . . what it is you do?”

“I do many things, Rami, but my connection to this particular evening is a financial one.”

“An investor,” he stated, nodding his head to indicate he was impressed.

“The investor,” she replied. “If I’m going to do something, I do it. When it comes to the theater, if I’m going to invest, I’m going to be the sole investor. That way, a production feels more like it’s . . . mine. I hope that doesn’t sound arrogant. I’m not an actor, but I love the process. This is as close as I can get to the stage without making a Bottom out of myself,” she said with a smirk as she referenced A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Rami chuckled, and teased, “With jokes like that, I can see why you stay out of the spotlight.”

She laughed, and it was clear she was surprised she laughed so freely with this very young, very handsome stranger.

“Y/N!” called the producer of the play. “I’ve got someone I’m dying for you to meet.”

Before the producer could whisk her away, she leaned into Rami and said, “I don’t normally do this, but I’d like to talk to you again. Here’s my card,” she said as she reached into her clutch.

“Call me. And maybe next time you won’t need six tequila shots before you pluck up the courage to talk to me,” with a wink and a ghost of a touch along his jaw, she was gone, swallowed again by people who just wanted the privilege of being near her.

Rami looked into the crowd, gobsmacked that she had been watching him, too.

* * * * *

With a throaty laugh, she kicked off her heels as Rami backed her into the wall as soon as they were secured in her large apartment. Rami had never been in a place so luxurious, and normally he would have liked to have a look around, but the feeling of this woman’s body under his hands damn near made his brain short-circuit.

Over the past few days, he had learned that she was not just a decade older than him, but two and a few odd years. He had also learned that she was intelligent, passionate, sophisticated, and could make him harder than he had ever been in his entire life with no more than a casual glance. His near-constant erections were proving to be a very difficult barrier to overcome, considering the amount of time they had been spending taking in shows, dining out, and going to a myriad of high-society events.

When she asked him to come up for a nightcap, he had to discreetly adjust himself as he followed her into the elevator. And as soon as the doors closed, she grabbed his lapels, pulled him to her, and kissed him, a soft, sweet kiss that somehow still made his toes curl.

“Do you want that nightcap?” she breathed against his lips, ever the proper hostess.

���No, thank you,” Rami murmured as he moved her hair to the side and attached his lips to her neck.

She laughed, that sweet, soft laugh that made him think of a gentle rain falling in the morning.

“Then perhaps we should take this to the bedroom,” she said, pulling away and taking his hand to lead him down a long hallway and up a set of stairs.

His trousers were uncomfortably tight as he watched the way her ass moved in her pretty dress as she climbed the spiral staircase, quickly and eloquently since she had left her shoes by the door.

Rami glanced around the room and once again couldn’t believe that his life was currently real, that this was happening, that he was about to have sex with the most beautifully intriguing woman he had ever met.

They made quick work of each other’s clothes and she hummed with appreciation at his body. He was lean, but not from effort. Life in the city that never sleeps was difficult, and between looking for roles, rehearsing for the ones he did manage to get, and working odd jobs to earn enough money to keep under a roof, eating wasn’t much of a priority.

She, on the other hand, was fit, classically attractive if you will, but not in an overdone way. She did look closer to her age than to Rami’s, except for her confidence and her passion. She knew who she was, loved herself, and because of that, her confidence and passion shone, and quite literally, made her beautiful.

She turned down the bed in a rush, sliding into the middle of her cloud-soft sheets. Rami settled between her legs and kissed her with all the passion he felt, which was so much that it left her breathless.

“Drawer,” she husked out, waving in the direction of the nightstand.

Rami reached over and pulled out the box of condoms, quickly rolling one on.

She took advantage of his lack of balance and rolled him onto his back, grinning down at him as she lowered herself onto his covered cock.

Rami groaned, a deep rumble that reverberated through his chest. He wanted to watch her, but his eyes rolled back at the incredible sensation of being inside of her for the first time. He wanted to savor it, but she began to move, rocking her hips and pulling his hands from her thighs to her breasts.

Rami opened his eyes and watched as she squeezed his hands around her breasts and when he looked up at the way her head was tossed back in bliss and the way her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, all because she was mounted on his cock, he lost control.

And in an embarrassingly quick culmination of passion, Rami came inside the condom with a whimper.

Immediately, his hands covered his face as he groaned, praying to GOD that the bed would swallow him whole.

“I am so sorry,” he mumbled from underneath his palms.

“Sorry for what?” she said with a laugh. “For finding me so attractive that you stayed in the moment and gave yourself over to passion instead of disconnecting by reciting . . . what do actors recite? Lines from a monologue? I’m guessing it’s not the usual sports statistics?”

Rami lifted his hands from his face and looked up at her; his cheeks were red, either from his intense orgasm or from his intense mortification.

Before he could apologize again, she put her finger to his lips.

“Stop agonizing over a beautiful moment. Do you know how good that made me feel knowing how excited I made you?”

Rami finally gave her a small smile, though it was evident he still felt ashamed.

With a roll of her eyes and a sigh, she grasped the base of his cock where she felt the condom and let his softened dick slide out of her. Carefully, she pulled it off of him and moved off the bed to toss it in the trash.

“Now that we’ve gotten that,” she said gesturing to his limp cock, “out of the way, we can concentrate on real pleasure.

“Is there anything you know you don’t like to do in the bedroom?” she asked, her head cocked to the side.

“Uh . . . I don’t think so?” Rami said with hesitation.

“If you want me to stop anything at any time, just say stop. Okay?”

Rami nodded, his lips parted as he intently watched her.

“Your eyes are going to make you a star,” she said, her head still cocked to the side as she returned his gaze.

He blinked as he blushed, a slight red flush creeping up his neck.

“Well,” she began as she rummaged in her drawer until she withdrew a small tube of lubricant, “when you’re young, you’re awfully resilient. Not to knock men my own age, but they tend to have a lack of stamina. Nature’s fault, of course, but women, well we really don’t reach our sexual prime until our 30s, even late 30s I dare say.”

Rami listened as she climbed back onto the bed, settling between his thighs. He wondered if he should feel awkward in this position, but as he watched her spread lubricant on her index finger, he felt his cock twitch.

“So, what that means, is that women end up with a significantly less amount of time to have great sex because they finally feel attractive enough to get a partner who meets their standards and because they finally know their bodies well enough to make demands of their lovers.”

She paused and shot him a seductive smile as she pressed her finger to his perineum and started to massage him.

“Jesus,” Rami moaned.

“Undisputedly a man. God, however . . . I like the sound of that,” she said in a low voice as she slipped her well-lubricated finger into Rami’s ass and brushed his prostate.

“Ohmy . . . GOD,” he cried out, his thighs jerking, but her body stopping them from slamming together.  

“That’s better,” she replied in that same low, sultry voice as she bent to take his dick in her mouth.

Rami’s cock hardened instantly, and he found himself filled with an intense need to fuck this woman senseless.

“St-sto-stop,” he managed, and she lifted her head and slowly extracted her finger.

Rami was animalistic in his movements; he sat up and flipped her onto her back, burying his face between her thighs. He wanted her soaking when he slid inside of her again, so when she began to give him directions, he responded to every single command.

He didn’t feel shy the second time they fucked.

Or the third.

Or the fourth.

By the time the morning light peeked through her windows and he positioned himself at her entrance for the fifth time, he felt like he really had found god.

And she was a woman.

[poguesofthebau]

OMG would you be able to do a superhero au with Grayson where the reader is like the villain and they just have flirty banter every time they meet until he finally decides to ask her out💛

this took me soooo long to write because i’ve never done anything like it before, but it was so fun to work on! i changed a few things from the actual request, but i hope it’s at least kind of close to what you were looking for! :)

summary: when grayson dolan, LA’s favorite hero, can’t stop running into y/n, a criminal that flies under the city’s radar, he finds himself first obsessing over her and her life choices, and then falling for her. but how does a vigilante end up with a criminal?

the first time you met was at the california fires.

he had seen you quickly moving around through the front windows, and, thinking you were a homeowner trapped inside by the flames, had darted inside as quickly as possible to get you out. when he finally found you in the house, though, he realized that he had been mistaken about you.

you were no homeowner– oh, no. you were quite the opposite.

when grayson reached you, what you were doing was unbelievable to him. “hey, are– are you fucking stealing from this house?”

caught off guard, your naturally smug face distorted into confusion, your head whipping to the side and squinting through the smoke with a heavy cough to see who the hell had been crazy enough to follow you, california’s least famous crook, into a literal burning building. you’d been leaning over a locket, staring at the photo that was pressed into it. a young girl and a middle-aged couple. it had seemed too sentimental for you to take, even though its other possible destiny was to burn to ashes. regardless of what you’d decided, your thoughts were cut short when another voice rose from the smoke, startling you out of your contemplation.

immediately you recognized him. it was grayson.

while the general public didn’t know who the man really was, every petty criminal in the city made a point to know his true identity. they knew it for two reasons: 1) so they knew to keep away from him, and, 2) for blackmail if they ever needed it. because someone like grayson dolan would never let people like you get away with the things you did– vigilante or not. so people like you did what it took to remain under his radar, but made sure to have a backup plan just in case he somehow tuned in to what you were doing.

for these reasons, you immediately dashed to make an exit when you recognized him. the window above the kitchen sink was still open from when you’d come in five minutes ago to grab anything lightweight and expensive you could find. without a sound, you dropped the locket and sprinted across the room, jumping onto the counter and diving out the window effortlessly, with grayson trying–and failing– to follow you, the prettiest thief he’d ever caught in the act.

the next meeting was almost a month later.

a friend of yours had invited you along on a little robbery. the plan was to hit a small cafe just as it closed, take anything in the register or the wallets of whatever customers and employees were still lingering, and get out. you had passed on the offer, preferring to hit vacant targets and work alone, but you had offered your help if anything went wrong.

conveniently for you, the one night you’d planned on keeping off the streets and letting citizens of LA worry about normal problems that didn’t include being robbed by you, ended up being the night things went sideways for your friend. around 9:45 that night, you received a text with no context or explanation (just how all criminals communicated): 911.

so, like any good friend would, you went.

when you arrived at the cafe, the scene was already messy.

there were three cops cars parked outside the building, and the first person you spotted who wasn’t in police uniform was him.

of course. why would grayson dolan, hero of the year, not be on a scene like this one?

for a moment, you lingered in your spot, just out of the sight of the heroes. you contemplated just leaving. what was one less friend? he could get himself out of the situation if he was as legit as he claimed to be. hell, he wouldn’t have been in the situation if he was as good as he claimed to be. you paced around in heavy thought for a few moments, and just as you decided to hatch a plan to get your friend out of his own mess, your train of thought was rammed off its tracks.

“hey!” and then there were footsteps, rapidly approaching you. your first instinct was to pull the knife from your thigh holster, but by the time it was in your hand, grayson had already reached you. before your body could react, it was pushed against the wall, and your arms were pinned on either side of your head. the knife clattered to the floor as grayson’s knee nudged between your thighs to keep you from moving. your eyes were wide when they finally met his, and the look on his face told you he hadn’t forgotten your last encounter. “it’s you again?” your brow furrowed in response, wrists struggling in his hands to free themselves. “what are you doing here? are you a part of this?”

instead of responding, you took advantage of his position in the only way you could. while he was speaking, grayson had lessened the pressure he was putting on your body by giving you an inch more space between your bodies. without hesitation, you brought your left knee up between his legs with as much force as you could muster. turns out it was a lot of force.

grayson’s hands immediately released you, and you were suddenly able to slid out from between his body and the wall, quickly leaning over to grab your knife before dashing in the opposite direction of the police, who had taken no notice to the interaction going on between the two of you. you didn’t make it very far before he was running after you again, this time taking a bit longer to catch up. he eventually did, though, barely grabbing onto your wrist again and yanking on it just hard enough to halt your momentum and twist you around. as you spun, your other hand– the one holding the knife– flew toward him, only to be stopped a few inches away by grayson’s forearm colliding with your own.

after a few moments of sparring, you ended up with grayson on his back below you as you straddled him, knife pressed lightly against his throat. he was looking up at you as though you were someone he knew, like he had so much faith in your benevolence. “quit looking at me like that. and quit trying to stop me from doing my damn job, before you get yourself killed.”

“you wouldn’t kill me,” he insisted, locking eyes with you. “i don’t buy it.”

“be careful what you assume about a girl who has a knife to your throat, mr. hero.”

the glint in his eye suddenly shifted from familiarity to interest. “who are you? why haven’t i heard of you?”

smiling almost sweetly at his naivety, you leaned into him, your mouth nearly pressed against his ear when you finally spoke. “because i’m very good at what i do.” and then you were gone.

from then on, grayson was everywhere you went. it was almost scary how much you saw him. you’d catch him while you were out on a job, whether he was there to stop you or just happened to walk in on one of your crimes, and he would spot you as you passed by a scene he was on, trying to save a new innocent. often times he would strike up a conversation, as though you were old friends. a part of you was convinced it was all coincidence, but a larger part was worried that you were going to be his next big criminal take-down. so after a handful of run-ins, you finally decided to address the situation.

you’d been listening to the police scanner all day, trying to find something that was close enough to your location that you could catch grayson there and hopefully put an end to the game of tag you two had been playing for the past few months. after hours of running around the city only to just barely miss him, you finally caught up.

funny enough, the scene you found him working on was a fire. when you arrived on a nearby rooftop, catching sight of what was going on down below, you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. after meeting him for the first time at a fire and spending all that time feeling like he was chasing you around los angeles, it had all come full circle.

deciding it would be smartest to wait for things to settle down for grayson, you sat down on the edge of the rooftop, boot-clad feet dangling from the ledge. for almost two hours, you sat and watched him save life after life, until everyone had been pulled from the burning building. it was odd, the feeling you got every time he ducked back into the building. each disappearance had you wondering– worrying– if he would come back out again. you couldn’t remember the last person you’d worried about like that, and you couldn’t believe that grayson dolan was the one putting you in that state of mind.

the entire time you sat waiting for him, you thought you’d gone unnoticed by the hero. when the job was done, though, the first thing he did was look up to your spot on that building and grin at you. stunned, you laughed in surprise.

a few minutes later, grayson was sitting on the ledge next to you, feet grazing your own as he swung his legs back and forth in the air. “thanks for not adding to the trouble down there,” he teased, knocking his shoulder into yours. “maybe you’re not such a villain after all.”

“hmph. is that what you’re looking to hear from me after all these little meetings? that i’m a good guy deep down, and i’m secretly dying to be your sidekick or something?”

“you said it, not me.” you scoffed at this, shoving him.

“i told you once i would kill you, and i still mean it.”

after a few moments of laughing, you both went quiet. “have you ever thought about that? like, in a serious way.” you raised your eyebrows, not following the question. “i mean, have you ever wanted to be good?” you scoffed again. “seriously, y/n. don’t take it the wrong way, but you are one of the bad guys. a really skilled one, i have to admit. it took me two months to figure out your name, for god’s sake. but really, don’t you ever wonder if you should be doing something to help people?”

you looked at him for a while, just taking him in. he looked worried, thinking he’d upset you with the question. when you looked out at the sky and leaned back on your palms, though, he seemed to realize that he was right. “i never considered anything like that until i met you.”

grayson smiled then, proudly. he had been waiting months for you to finally admit that what you were doing with your life wasn’t who you were– that you were ready to do more. “so do it with me.”

you turned back to look at him again. your face let grayson know that he wasn’t convincing you of anything. “it’s not that simple, grayson. you’re the hero, and i’m the villain. maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

“or maybe it’s not. c’mere.” he was standing then, reaching a hand out to help you up once he’d finally gotten on his feet. when you took his hand and let him pull you up, he smiled again. he started digging around in his pocket then. after a while, he finally found what he was looking for, pulling it out and taking one knee before you. when your eyes widened in amusement, he laughed and shook his head. “it’s not what you think, crazy.” finally, you caught sight of what he was offering to you. the locket, from that first day in the fires. “y/n the villain, will you do me the honor of becoming y/n the hero and help me protect this city?”

rolling your eyes but failing to fight the smile that had crept onto your face, you took the necklace from him and nodded before pulling him back to his feet. “yeah, i will, you corny good guy. how the hell did you find this?”

“i knew it would be important when i first saw you with it that first day. i had no way to prove it, but i could just tell that this locket was one of the things that made you question what you were doing. and i knew that a day like today would come, so i took it for this moment. you know, just in case.”

you groaned. “how did i go from bad ass, unstoppable criminal to sidekick of the guy that finds the meaning of lockets from house fires in a matter of minutes?”

grabbing your hand with a laugh, he pulled you toward the door that led to the building. “that’s the power of goodness. i don’t make the rules, i just follow them! don’t act like you don’t love the protagonist.”

“sadly, i think we both know i do.”

[storyunrelated]

Evil In You 4/5 - Supreme Power

Fighting stuff. I don’t know how good I am at writing action scenes, really.

[Wanton slaughter]

Antii had never felt better in his life. Even when he was a much younger man he had never felt so exhilarated. Divine power flowed from the suit and into his body, surging energy making every fibre of his being quiver with readiness. His mind filled with zealous belligerence and images of the brutality he might – and should – inflict on those whose sin left no alternative. He knew what he was capable of. He could picture how fast he would be able to clear the house. He knew how to manipulate and use the intangible energy of retribution now lying coiled and waiting in his arms. It came to Antii easily and without him even having to try. It was just there.

He wasn’t to know that he was exactly the sort of person the Razem 5/7 had been designed for in the first place. The feelings and new, unexpected knowledge he was enjoying had very little to do with divine providence and a lot to do with the fact that, back in the good old days, just about any yokel who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time had been shanghaied and crammed into one of those suits. They were designed to take just about anyone and – with minimally invasive neural imprinting and chemical encouragement – turn them into what would hopefully be a semi-effective weapon. Cheap, mass-produced and nowhere near as impressive as some of the more high-end stuff they had used to rub shoulders with. Way back when, the number of these things that had been sent charging off across battlefields only to get mown down in droves was almost beyond counting. Now, here, there was just one, and Antii was wearing it.

The suit was was telling his brain how to use it, and the drugs it was pumping through his body were what was making him feel so giggly giddy. His heart hadn’t beat so fast in years. It probably would have given out, if it weren’t for the suit keeping it so tightly regulated. Heart attacks were not a useful thing for disposable shock-troopers to have. His whole body trembled as a hastily synthesized concoction surged into him. He felt sixty years younger, not to mention completely invincible. This, too, was something the suit helped him with.

A sensor ping automatically went out from the suit and informed Antii that there were multiple targets closing in on the outside of his Lord’s damaged house. Presumed hostile. Likely they had been drawn in the by the sounds of gunfire from what had been – they thought – a pacified location and also the subsequent silence from their comrades who had been there. This idea came easily to Antii, who had never thought anything like it before in his life. Likewise, his course of action was obvious and instinctual.

Bracing himself on the balcony he launched forward at breakneck speed. An impulse from the suit’s Kinetic Manipulation Unit - the primary offensive and defensive piece of equipment mounted on a Razem 5/7 and basically a modified forcefield - fired him from standing like a missile, a burst of energy accelerating him and the suit from nothing to breakneck-fast in no time at all. It switched outputs a split-second later to form a cone of force ahead of him as he punched clean through the exterior wall of the house in an explosion of ancient brickwork.

Those persons who had been converging on the house – heavily armed to a man – were not expecting this. As far as they were all aware their work here had been done. The reports from the house had been fairly clear cut the last they heard: target down, moderate collateral damage, hostages secured, no losses. That something should go wrong now when most of them had been halfway back to the staging point was not a good sign. Certainly, none of them expected the very thing they had picked the time of the attack specifically to avoid to come bursting out of the wall at them. They’d killed the one who wore the suit. They thought.

Antii turned through the air with far more grace than he believed himself capable of, landing perfectly a good forty or fifty feet away from the house. He also landed literally on top of one especially unlucky man who had just enough time to give a surprised squeak before he was folded up like a card-table beneath the considerable weight of the suit. The sound was unpleasant and brought what had been the cautious advance back to the house to an immediate halt. A second or so of absolute, dumbfounded confusion passed. Then all hell broke loose.

The forces gathered for the attack hadn’t been the most organized group in the first place. They had been hastily drawn together, quickly armed and speedily given a crash-course in tactics and teamwork. This had worked wonders against an unprepared and defenseless house filled with servants, children and the unaware. It performed less admirably when everyone panicked. Crossfire was immediate, and so were the casualties. As they were arranged in a rough circle around Antii - some closer than others - when everyone started firing, the only target they all had in common apart from the suit was each other.

Those closest to Antii died first, and it had nothing to do with anything he did. Their friends did the work for him. When he started moving, a lot more of them started dying, and a lot more quickly. Whole human beings burst as solid but invisible walls of kinetic force hit them like battering rams. Bodies fell in screaming pieces as blades of air slashed through them without a whisper. Antii moved in a blur, kicks and spurts from the Kinetic Manipulation Module jolting him around faster than most could follow. He could cover twenty feet in the time it took a man to aim and fire. What did hit him did nothing. His armour was proof against heathen weapons. Bullets turned aside in midair. He was invulnerable.

Antii was barely even conscious of what he was doing. His body moved with a will of its own. Ideas from somewhere else filled his mind and translated into actions formerly unthinkable. It felt as though something other than himself was controlling his actions. Something greater than him. A firm hand guiding him. His whole body sang with joy, his muscles trembling. He laughed. He couldn’t stop laughing even as the blood vapourised automatically from his visor and enemies turned to mist before him. This must have been what it felt like to be an instrument of divine will. Antii couldn’t believe it. It was bliss.

Then something hit him. It came from nowhere. He had been standing still for almost a whole second when his world went white. Everything turned to static and he felt himself tumbling through the air, alarms and warnings from suit blaring in his ears and brain.  A fresh cocktail of exciting drugs surged into his body to counteract the shock and the pain and his vision popped back. He was a fair distance away, on his back, in rubble. Righting himself was easy, legs swinging out and a quick burst of power to boost him back up onto his feet. Then he saw it.

Standing there, surrounded by more heathens - who were quite wisely cowering at a safe distance behind it - was another suit. A bigger suit. Where his Lord’s suit was a slick and slim and divine, this other suit was blocky and bulky. A juggernaut. it bristled with weapons. A stout, smoking barrel jutted from one shoulder, clearly responsible for where Antii had ended up. The new suit held a slab of a shield and hunkered down behind it, other arm raising a multi-barreled cannon into which Antii could hear rounds already loading.

“You think you’re the only one who can dig up one of these suits? How long did you think you’d have a monopoly on that sort of thing? Well you’re fucked now. Do you have any idea how many of those things my model tore through back in the day? No? I’ll give you an idea,” the heathen suit said, voice booming from loud-hailers and speakers built into the breastplate.

But Antii wasn’t listening. He had spotted something behind the heathen suit. With tear-streaked and soot-caked faces, he had spotted the Lord’s children. Captive, bound, afraid. Held at gunpoint by heathens. The sight made his blood boil. He trembled. It was unacceptable. It was an affront. It was another blasphemy in a day of the blackest sacrilege. It would not pass unpunished. Divine retribution was unstoppable. A price had to be paid.

Antii would see to that. He was merely a vessel now. Something greater would come through him. He was an instrument and through him justice would be delivered.

None of them would be left alive.

[randomoranges]

Perfect Cities Crush

 It was the worst kept secret amongst friends and family that Samuel had a crush on Frederic. Everyone knew. Everyone, except Frederic. Or, if Frederic knew, he had never shown any sign of being aware and never acted on it.

 Samuel had really tried being subtle about it. He had no idea if Frederic liked men that way, or if he did, if he was interested in him and he didn’t want to seem creepy. On top of that, even though they aged differently from humans, Samuel was very well aware of his age difference with Frederic and didn’t want to scare him away. Therefore, he kept his infatuation under wraps and pined from afar.

 The problem, however, because there always had to be a problem in his life, was that he had blurted out his unrequited love to his brother, of all people, one night, when they had gone drinking. He may have been drunk and he may have admitted that he really, really, liked Frederic. Amongst other things.

 Of course, that meant that the following day, Étienne had spread the news to anyone who cared to listen and now everyone knew. But not only had Étienne opened up his mouth on what he wanted to be kept secret for the rest of is very long life, his younger brother had also opened himself up for Frederic, of all people, quite literally.

 Everyone knew that Étienne was the biggest flirt of them all and that he would spread his legs for just about anyone who made an offer. Samuel recalled a tally Emma had kept for many years, of whom amongst their peers had tried Étienne’s bed, but she had stopped when she realised that it would be easier to keep a list of those who hadn’t and add a yet afterwards.

 Samuel had always condemned Étienne’s ways.

 As the older brother, Samuel had always done his best to keep some semblance of privacy about his life and preferences in bedroom partners. Étienne had called him a hypocrite, Samuel preferred to think of himself as modest and trying to keep with the old ways.

 Therefore, he had always been discreet about his nighttime escapades and had been a poster boy of good catholic faith, up until Étienne had caught him coming out of the same brothel he had been stepping into. The words they had exchanged were still etched into his memory and Samuel had not been proud of himself then.  

 It had taken him a long while to accept the duality that lived within him – that of the catholic and of homosexual. He had envied Étienne’s seemingly open spirit who had seemed to accept his duality early on and had embraced it fully. Étienne could ask intelligent theological questions one moment and then find himself flirting with another person the next without batting an eyelash.  

 These things came naturally to his brother and Samuel desperately wished for a fraction of that talent. It wasn’t that he couldn’t play the game, but he disliked the club scene and any man he approached had been chosen special. Even though he sometimes only wanted sex, Samuel found it hard to walk up to the stranger and then bring him home within the hour.  

 Of course, desperate times had called for desperate measures, but if he had the choice, he preferred having some sort of emotional bond with the men he brought to bed.  

 Étienne, on the other hand, seemed to rarely have a cold bed to go to, and more often than not, if it was empty, it was by his own choosing.

 And that was how, about four months or so after Samuel had unfortunately admitted to his crush on Frederick, he found his very own brother doing what he did best.  Flirting with Frederic.

 On the first day, Samuel hadn’t thought much about it. Étienne had chosen one of the last empty seats at the meeting and it had happened to be next to Frederic.

 Samuel hadn’t paid much attention to them, but shortly before lunch, right about when Étienne’s attention started deterring from the meeting, Samuel noticed him pass a note to Frederic.

 That would have been nothing, but Frederic passed one back and within the last hour of the meeting, they had passed twenty-nine notes. Not that he had been keeping count.

 When they came back from lunch, the first thing Samuel noticed was that Étienne and Frederic were sitting much closer to each other and that Frederic’s whole body seemed to be attuned to Étienne’s.  They playfully shoved at one another during the meeting, while Samuel quietly steamed.

 Leave it to fucking Étienne to whore it up with Frederic.

 He should have never told him. Of course, Étienne would do this to him. It wasn’t like Étienne could be nice and selfless for once. No. His brother was probably only interested in Frederic to spite him.

 By the second day of the meeting, Samuel had walked in to find Étienne leaning back in his chair with his legs on Frederic’s lap. That would have been normal if it wasn’t for the fact that Frederic had one hand on Étienne’s knee and the other one was underneath the pant leg, clearly rubbing his shin.

 And to make matters worse, they looked very relaxed around one another and Samuel wondered if they hadn’t fucked already.

 On the third and final day of the meeting, Étienne walked in to the conference room completely disheveled and debauched. His suit was wrinkled and Samuel noticed that he was wearing the same shirt from the previous day.

 On top of that, there were the looks that passed between Étienne and Frederic to go with the general air of someone who had spent the entire night having sex. Samuel knew the look well.  It was Étienne’s third day look and Frederic had it as well.

 Then, because Étienne had been put in his life to make him miserable, his brother spent the entire first half of the meeting making obscene gestures and what could only be called bedroom eyes at Frederick.

 And finally, to make matters worse, after the lunch break, Étienne and Frederic were not at the meeting.

 The moment he was let out, Samuel stormed off to Étienne’s hotel room. He didn’t care if he interrupted. He didn’t care if he found his brother fucking Frederic. He was furious. He couldn’t believe the selfishness his brother – his own flesh and blood – had just exhibited. And to humiliate him in front of the others like that.  Samuel had at least counted five pitying looks on his way out.

 He pounded on the door as hard as he could and was ready to knock it down if he had to. He would deal with the consequences later. “Ouvre la crisse de porte, Maisonneuve! Je l’sais qu’t’es là!”/ “Open the goddamn door, Maisonneuve! I know you’re there!” He yelled.

 For a brief moment, he wondered if maybe they had gone to Frederic’s room, but then he heard something from the other side and resumed his pounding.  “Ouvre, mon tabarnak! Awaye Étienne, arrête de faire ton estie d’lâche!”/ “Open up, fucker! C’m’on Étienne, stop hiding away!”

 Finally, his brother slowly opened the door and his mere presence was enough for Samuel to want to punch that self satisfied grin off his face. Everything about Étienne’s stance screamed provocation and smugness. Samuel couldn’t believe his brother had the audacity to stand in front of him in his underwear and reveal the hickeys and marks of his little romp in the field.

 “Ah, c’est toi. Si tu cherches ton chum y vient juste de partir.”/ “Ah, it’s you. If you’re looking for your boyfriend he just left.”

 Samuel grabbed him from the scruff of his neck and rammed him against the wall, kicking the door behind him. “C’pas mon crisse de chum pass t’as passé l’ostie d’semaine à l’baiser, câlice!”/ “He’s not my fucking boyfriend, because you spent the goddamn week fucking him, Christ!”

 Étienne had the nerve to smirk. “Effectivement, mais réjouis toi, au moins tu sais qu’y s’intéresse aux hommes, maintenant.”/ “Indeed, but cheer up, now you know he’s interested in men.”

 “Ta yeule!”/ “Shut up!”

 “Si tu veux, j’peux t’faire une liste de c’qu’y’a aimé. J’dois t’dire, c’est une vraie bête au lit. Y’a pas arrêter d’en r’demander. Pis… yé très bien bâtit.”/ “If you want, I can make you a list of what he liked. I must say, he’s a real beast in bed. He kept on asking for more. And... he’s very well built.”

 Étienne never saw the punch that came to the left of his jaw and Samuel never realised he had punched his brother, until Étienne was massaging his jaw, surprised.

 “T’es pas mieux qu’une pute!”/ “You’re not better than a whore!” Samuel regretted the words the moment he saw the icy glare Étienne threw at him. He knew he had gone too far, but Étienne had hurt him.

 “Dit c’que tu veux, mais pendant que tu t’crossais tu-seul, moi, au moins, j’ai eu l’audace d’aller après c’que j’voulais. Y’a rien qui t’empêches d’aller l’voir maint’nant. Yé p’t’être encore à la gare.”/ “Say what you want, but while you were jacking off alone, at least I had the audacity to go after what I wanted. Nothing’s stopping you from going after him now. He might still be at the station.”

 “Comme si j’voulais de tes restes! Chuis pas désespéré comme toi!”/ “As if I wanted your leftovers! I’m not as desperate as you!” Samuel spat out.

 “Peut-être.”/ “Maybe.” He started, his tone cold. “Mais je sais qu’en c’moment, t’aimerais ben être à la place de la pute qui est ton frère. T’aimerais rien d’mieux que d’fourrer avec Frédéric, pis tu s’ras jamais c’est comment, pass, comme t’as dit, t’es pas comme moi.”/ “But I know that right now, you would love being in the place of the whore that is your brother. You would love nothing more but to fuck Frederic, but you’ll never know what it’s like, because, like you said, you’re not like me.”

 Samuel shoved Étienne back against the wall and let him go. He had heard enough. Étienne massaged the place where Samuel had had his grip, but didn’t dare break eye contact with his brother.

 “Tu m’dégoutes.”/ “You disgust me.” Samuel seethed, heading out.

 “Heureux de t’avoir vu, Sam. Tu sais toujours dire les mots justes. Si tu vois Stacy en sortant, tu lui diras de monter. La pute est prête pour la prochaine personne.”/ “A pleasure seeing you, Sam. You always know just what to say. If you see Stacy on your way out, tell her to come up. The whore is ready for the next person.”

 Samuel slammed the door behind him and left, frustrated.

 --

 It was months before he spoke to Étienne again. The taste of what he had done to him was still a bitter pill to swallow and he had genuinely been hurt. He knew that logically, even if Frederic liked men, it didn’t mean that he would be interested in him, but he would prefer finding out for himself instead of having his chance stolen by his brother.

 And even though he knew he could approach Frederic on his own, now that Étienne had passed by there, he really did feel like he was going after his brother’s castoffs.

 He wouldn’t sink that low. He may have had a crush on Frederic, but he had some pride and standards. He preferred being alone and moving on slowly.  

 He had tried drowning his frustration and pain in other men’s arms, but he craved the connection and when he tried, it always seemed fake. His heart was set on Frederic and didn’t seem to want to budge.

 That was why, by the time of the next set of meetings rolled by, Samuel dreaded the whole thing.  He had no doubt that Étienne had already moved on from Frederick, but his brother was known to hook up with people more than once.

 Samuel decided that he wouldn’t bother with his brother, or Frederic, during the meetings and kept his distance. However, on the night of the first day, he found himself incapable of sleeping. It was too cold to go out and he wouldn’t have known where to go, since the city was unfamiliar to him. He did what any self-respecting man would do and went to the hotel bar, hoping he could drown his misery and get some sleep.

 He was two drinks in when he felt someone sit next to him. He did not intend to talk to anyone so he ignored the stranger and took regular sips from his drink. He knew he would regret all this in the morning, but for now, it didn’t matter.

 “Well then stranger, are you going to ignore me all night long?” The man beside him said and Samuel froze, for he knew that voice. Perhaps he had sinned too much and God was punishing him for it.  He made himself a mental note to pass by confession next time.

 “Ch’t’ai pas vu.”/ “I didn’t see you.” He mumbled, which wasn’t an exact line.  

  “I know we don’t normally hang out, but tu m’ignores pas non plus.”/ “... but you don’t ignore me either.”

 “Les temps changent.”/ “Times change.” He downed the rest of his drink and motioned for another one.

 “Sam, I feell ike I’ve offended you, mais ch’sais même pas pourquoi.”/ “... and I don’t know why.”

 “Tu d’mand’ras à mon frère.”/ “Ask my brother.”

 Frederic had the nerve to laugh.

 “Bon, à c’t’heure on s’moque de moi. Si t’as fini, j’m’en vais. Bonne soirée pis amuse toi avec Étienne.”/ “Now we’re mocking me. If you’re done, I’m leaving. Enjoy your night and have fun with Étienne.” He pushed back his chair and made to leave, but stumbled on the legs of the chair. Frederic steadied him with his hand and all Samuel could think of was that he had a firm grip.

 “Look, Sam, I had fun with Étienne but it was just a fling. Your brother’s great but he’s not what I’m looking for. I was hoping it would get your attention and when it wasn’t, I figured I could at least get something out of it. Your brother didn’t mind.”

 Samuel blinked stupidly at him. Frederic scratched at the back of his neck.

 “Quoi?”/ “What?”

 “I.... think you’re hot? A lot? Mais... t’es plus vieux. Plus sophistiqué. Je sais qu’tu n’serais pas intéressé par moi. So I never did anything, mais là j’me dis que p’t’être j’aurais dû?”/ “... But... you’re older. More sophisticated. I know you wouldn’t be interested in me. So I never did anything, but now I’m thinking maybe I should have?” Frederic asked, throwing a tentative smile.

 Samuel stared at him and took a moment to absorb this information. If his muddled brain had made the correct translations, Frederic was interested in him and had kept his distances for the same reasons he had.

 He emptied his glass and let out a laugh. His life was a joke.

 “Ouais, p’t’être t’aurais dû.”/ “Yeah, maybe you should have.”

 “Well... consider this me doing something about it. I’m making an advance on you, right now.” Frederic sat closer to him and Samuel felt their legs brush. He closed his eyes and tried to ground himself. Maybe this was a dream.

 “Pis si y’est trop tard?”/ “And if it’s too late?”

 “Je s’rais déçu. J’aimerais croire que nous voulons la même chose. Si t’es toujours intéressé, tu m’trouveras dans la chambre 402. Ne m’fait pas attendre trop longtemps.”/ “I would be disappointed. I’d like to think we want the same thing. If you’re still interested, you’ll find me in room 402. Don’t make me wait too much.” Frederic leant forward, brushed a quick kiss to his cheek, before he rose, and then left, leaving Samuel alone to ponder.

 Part of him screamed at himself to get up and follow Frederic. This was what he had yearned for and now it was being offered to him on a silver plate. But another part of him still refused to go after men Étienne had already had. Even though Frederic had told him that it had been for fun and nothing serious, Samuel had his reservations.

 Samuel sat at the bar, mulling over his options, trying to figure out what to do. In reality, he was afraid of being hurt and played. Had it been any other man it wouldn’t have mattered, but because it was Frederic, he felt it was different.

 Finally, after one hour and another drink, Samuel decided that he had nothing to lose. He was already miserable and he wanted Frederic, even if it was for one night and even if Étienne had gotten to him first.

 He rose from his seat and threw some money for his drinks, before he made his way to the elevator, lest he change his mind.

 --

 Samuel stood in front of Frederic’s door and briefly wondered if the other man hadn’t called it a night, as he waited for an answer. He was about to turn around and forget about this whole mess, when the door finally clicked open.

 “Samuel.”

 Frederic looked surprised and then pleased, standing in the doorway of his hotel room in nothing but his boxers. Samuel drank him in and felt his heart thud in his ears. He wanted this. He wanted Frederic even if just for one night. He would deal with the consequences later. Right now, he wanted to feel Frederic’s lips on his skin and Frederic’s warm body against his own.

 “T’étais sérieux tantôt?”/ “Were you serious earlier?”

 Frederic nodded and grinned.

 “Dans c’cas, donne-moi le « ne pas  déranger. »”/ “In that case, give me the “do not disturb”.”

 Samuel waited for Frederic to hand him the sign, never breaking eye contact with him. He then placed it on the doorknob before he kicked the door shut and threw himself into Frederic’s waiting arms.

 --

 The first thing Samuel heard the following morning was his phone’s alarm. He groaned and rolled over, trying very much to ignore it. The alarm kept on ringing cheerfully and finally, Samuel admitted defeat, draping himself across Frederic, in order to reach and turn it off.

 “Fuck le meeting.”/ “Fuck the meeting.” He yawned, when he felt Frederic stir and wrap his arms around his midriff. Samuel settled back against him as Frederic made himself comfortable.

 “Fuck me instead.” Frederic mumbled, pressing sleepy kisses to his shoulder.

 Samuel laughed softly and shifted in his arms. “C’est une offre?”/ “Is that an offer?” He asked.

 “Yeah. Fuck me and let’s forget about the meeting.”

 Samuel needn’t be told twice.

FIN 33

 Started writing: March 13th 2017, 12:47pm

Finished writing: March 13th 2017, 10:46pm

Started typing: April 27th 2017, 10:56am

Finished typing: April 27th 2017, 12:28pm