#so i thought it was close to méchant

[sweetlittleneptune]

"You speak French??"

The translations were made by me, as I'm a native French speaker! tho, if you have any issues/questions/see any mistakes, don't be afraid to point them out!

The fact that you never admitted to speaking French to the residents of the mansion was a simple lie of omission. You didn’t think it was that important at first, and then you also noticed how much of an advantage that was. This meant you could spy on some of residents without much trouble at all. Sadly, the charade couldn’t last forever.

NAPOLEON

He had a habit of rambling in French to himself. Random thoughts, most of them unimportant and simple little reminders to do something later. But every once in a while, he would mumble something that caught your attention, and you’d have to hold in your laughter. He had to stop though, once he realized you understood what he was saying and was absolutely humiliated.

It had been a rough day, and the man was frustrated. Between the bickering kids and the eccentric residents, he was practically boiling. That was reason enough to be mumbling insults and such.

“C’est juste des cons. Pas capable de se la fermer, tous inutiles.”

(They’re just idiots. Can’t shut up, useless.)

And it came out before you could even think about it. You just had to.

“Quand même, c'est un peu méchant M. Napoléon. Mais je l’admets… ils sont un peu lourds.”

(Well, that’s a bit rude Mr. Napoleon. But I’ve got to admit… they are a bit annoying)

The look on his face was absolutely priceless. Surprise, confusion, worry, all of it. Napoleon opened his mouth once, then closed it. he reopened it again and closed it once more. Third time’s the charm they say…

“Since when…?”

“Ah, that’s my little secret. Just don’t tell the other, will you?”

Suspicion crossed his face.

“Why?”

“You know, it’s a great advantage to have. Would be a shame to lose it.”

“You’re a devil Nunuche, but a smart one I’ll admit.”

And with a chuckle he left the room

COMTE DE SAINT-GERMAIN

You intended to tell him at first. When he started bringing you to all those dinners, galas, and parties for the aristocrats of the city. You wanted to speak with him and the other attendants. But as soon as they heard the accent in your “bonsoir”, they switched to English, and you rolled with it for some reason. Now it had been months, and you felt it would be weird to start speaking French now.

You were used to being ignored in conversations too. None of it was on purpose and you couldn’t take it personally when Comte was such a popular man to begin with! What you weren’t used to, though, was being disrespected right in your face as if you weren’t there.

The first comment had been something along the lines of “you finally found someone to give you a son!”

Your husband was quick to answer that he had chosen you because you were you. It had nothing to do with kids.

The second almost made you open your mouth. But it was no use. Comte made very sure to let him know he was crossing a limit and ended the conversation there.

“Some people lack manners, it seems. No use wasting more time on this unimportant discussion.”

You simply nodded and followed.

But then you wanted a little treat to eat, and the buffet was on the other side of the room. So, you left Comte for a moment to grab something. Sadly, the same man from earlier was there, chatting away with someone you didn’t know. As soon as he saw you, you knew something unpleasant would happen.

“Elle n’est rien de bien spécial, mais j’imagine qu’elle doit être particulièrement bonne au lit si le Comte de Saint-Germain a décidé qu’elle était bonne à marier. »

(she’s nothing special, but I guess she’s particularly good in bed if the Count of Saint-Germain has decided to make her his wife.)

You pondered for a moment if you should even grace him with an answer. It wouldn’t do any good, you knew that. But if the man had the galls to say it, he surely could listen to your answer, no?

“Monsieur, j’apprécierais sincèrement que vous vous absteniez de m’insulter en ma présence. Et puis, ce sont de riches paroles, venant de l’homme dont la femme est reconnue pour avoir plusieurs amants. Au moins, l’un de nous sait satisfaire son partenaire… "

(Sir, I would appreciate if you could hold back from insulting me in my presence. And this is rich, coming from the man whose wife is known to have several lovers. At least, one of us can satisfy their spouse…)

Red rose to the man’s face.

“Eh bien, je crois que le message est clair! 

(Well, I think the message is clear!)

Comte’s voice made you jump in your place. You hadn’t heard him coming at all! You turned to look at him with shyness in your eyes, a bit worried he would scowl you for your action. But all he did was look at you with pride.

As you left though, he did ask where you learned to speak French.

“A while back, in my world.”

JEAN D'ARC

That night you were staying up late to clean up after one of Leonardo’s raids of the library. It was rotten work for sure, but someone had to do it and Sebastian was finishing up polishing of the silverware. So here you were, going through piles of books left on tables.

Time passed and after a while of not hearing any noise, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit down and read for a few minutes. There was a book that had caught your attention while cleaning up. It was a little book of French fables. Some of which you remembered reading back in school when you were young. Slowly, the stories caught your attention for good and the world around you faded.

That’s when Jean entered the room, in the hopes of finding some peace and some books to help him learn to write and read. Still hooked on your little island of nostalgia, you didn’t hear him at all. And him, not wanting to bother you, stayed in his little corner of the library.

An hour must have passed before your eyes left the pages of the book. But when you did, you were surprised to find you weren’t alone anymore. And you felt a bit cheap about being caught slacking on your job.

“I didn’t hear you come in, Jean. What are you doing here?”

“I’m trying to read this book. But it’s hard, I don’t understand much…”

The poor man was trying to read “Les Misérables”, of course he was having a hard time understanding what all those fancy words meant! You held your chuckle in and handed him your fable book.

“You might find this one easier to read. You picked a rather daunting book to try to learn.”

“Oh but… you know I speak French mademoiselle. Your book-” You smiled.

“Take a look at the cover. What does it say?”

It took him a minute to decipher the sounds and the words, but he managed to read the title out:

“Les fables de La Fontaine.” Jean paused. “It’s in French…”

“Yes, it is.”

“You can read French?” there was curiosity in his eyes.

“Oui, mais pas que. Je le parle aussi.”

(Yes, but that’s not all. I can speak it too.)

“Je ne savais pas. Vous ne l’avez jamais dit.”

(I didn’t know. You never told us)

“It’s my little secret,” you answered with a smirk. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should finish cleaning Leo’s mess.”

“Merci.”

“Bienvenue!”

[tommydarlings]

crying eyes | c.l

pairing: dom!charles x sub!reader

warnings: smut, slapping, choking, overstimulation, dacryphilia, squirting, slight dumbification

w/c: 0.9k

summary: Charles really doesn’t like it when your acting jealous, so he shows you now how he treats jealous little sluts like you.

my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3

“Your just a jealous little slut and I really don’t like jealous little sluts.” Your boyfriend of almost 2 years muttered as his fingers didn’t leave your wet pussy, voice already hoarse from your begging and whining. “Don’t like it when my girlfriend is so fucking needy while I’m in a meeting with fucking Ferrari.” Charles stated deeply as he focused on your legs between his hand, smirking as he noticed that they started to shake.

“That good huh?”

You nodded wildly with your head, desperately moaning and whining his name as tears formed in your eyes.

“Even crying, only for me, Comme c'est beau.” how beautiful. He licked his lips and spared you a quick glance before he gazed down at your neck, covered in blue and purple marks, all of them from his now swollen lips.

You looked him deep in the eyes before you decided to be utterly stupid.

“I'm not c-crying, not y-yet.” You told him completely serious while you were desperately trying to fight the tears that were so close to covering your red cheeks.

You were this day old when your realised that your boyfriend actually got a slapping kink.

The Ferrari driver looked at you with a facial expression you couldn’t put your finger on. You weren’t entirely sure if he’s about to laugh or be silence, if he’s gonna go on like he just did or if he’s gonna do something about-

You thoughts were quickly stopped by a harsh and rough slap across your cheek, head being immediately turned to the side by the force of the impact before he squished your cheeks together and made you pout as you were forced to look at him.

To be honest, you feared him a bit at the moment but you also have every right to, you’ve never seen Charles like that before, he was usually always so gently with you and so careful, almost like he was scared of breaking you. Well that was certainly not the case here…

“You want me to make you cry, huh?” He told you as he looked slightly down at your trembling figure. You even confidently nodded before he went on,

“Well than i should give my pretty little girl a reason to cry, shouldn’t I?” Charles stated as his hand started moving again, this time even faster and rougher. In the meanwhile, Charles let his hand travel down to your marked up throat, hand slowly covering the purple and blue bruises formed by his lips as you felt something different creeping up your abdomen.

“C-Charles-!” You stuttered and choked on your own breath as you whined his name. You just wanted to look down to the spot where you started to feel that weirdly satisfying feeling but your boyfriend stopped you.

“No no no ma chérie, you will look at me when your crying your pretty little eyes out, you hear me?” Charles immediately told you with raised brows as your hands left the kitchen counter and quickly got a hold of his moving wrist between your shaking legs. You desperately tried to slow his hand down a bit, feeling that is was all getting too much. Both of your hands grabbed his wrist but you didn’t came far before Charles scoffed and pressed down harder onto your throat so your hands automatically removed themselves from his wrist between your legs and shot up to his wrist on your throat.

“You wanted me to make you cry, didn’t you Petite salope méchante? you nasty little slut? And now that I’m trying almost carelessly to make her cry, she complains and wants me to stop? Ma petite salope stupide doit décider, my dumb little slut has to decide, or I stop right now and leave you dry until next race weekend, but I also can’t assure you than if I’ll let you cum or not, depends if I win or loose.”

After your failed attempt of stopping him with your hands, you tried it one last time with your hips. You hastily squirmed away as the feeling to cum but also to pee grew closer. But Charles was also not liking this.

“Sit still.” He ordered you deeply with his French accent before the hand that was placed on your throat gave you a quick slap across the face before he went on with choking you.

“Charles, i-i feel something d-different, something, f-fuck!” You yelled loudly while tears were staining your cheeks, it was even hard to see your boyfriend destroying you and bringing you completely to your limits because of the tears constantly filling your eyes.

“There we go ma chérie, that’s a face I’d like to see more often, you understand?” He asked you and you quickly answered with a nod before he removed his gaze from yours and looked down at his fingers moving in and out of your drenched pussy with a fast pace. He looked at you one last time, eyes squeezed shut, tears already staining your cheeks, jaw and neck, moans and whines leaving your mouth like he never heard before, smirking before he removed his fingers from your wet cunt and quickly going up to your clit, rubbing it roughly as you started to squirt all over his hand and abs.

Charles laughed and grinned smugly as he focused on your clenching pussy, fingers not stopping while your cries and begs got only louder.

“That’s my good girl, perfect baby, so fucking for me.” Charles whispered quietly as his hand left your pussy and went up to his mouth before you licked them clean.

“Ça a tellement bon goût.” Tastes so fucking good.

He pulled you forwards by your throat and harshly captured your lips in a messy kiss.

“Was that reason good enough for you to cry, ma chérie?”

[gladiates]

30 day langblr challenge day 3: phoebe bridgers time!

The prompt for today is to translate your favorite song into your target language! My actual favorite song is “Farewell Transmission” by Songs:Ohia, but since the lyrics are very abstract, I thought Phoebe Bridgers’ “I Know the End,” a current favorite, would be easier and more useful. My translation is definitely rough! I needed to use the dictionary a LOT, and I’m sure I made many mistakes, but it’s pretty cool to be able to say that I translated a song! Here we go, verse by verse. Oh, and here’s the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJ9-xN6dCW4

[Verse 1] Somewhere in Germany, but I can't place it Man, I hate this part of Texas Close my eyes, fantasize Three clicks and I'm home When I get back I'll lay around Then I'll get up and lay back down Romanticize a quiet life There's no place like my room Quelque part en Allemagne mais je ne peux pas le situer [not sure how "man" in this context translates] je déteste cet parties de Texas Je ferme les yeux, je rêve Trois clics et je suis à mon domicile Quand je reviens, je vais me reposer Puis je vais me lever et je vais me reposer encore Je vais idéaliser une vie calme Il n'y a pas lieu comme ma chambre [Chorus] But you had to go, I know, I know, I know Like a wave that crashed and melted on the shore Not even the burnouts are out here anymore And you had to go, I know, I know, I know Mais tu devais partir, je sais, je sais, je sais Comme une vague qu'est rentrée et a fondu dans le rivage Même les gens fatigués [very loose translation LOL] ne sont plus ici. Et tu devais partir, je sais, je sais, je sais [Verse 2] Out in the park, we watch the sunset Talking on a rusty swing set After a while you went quiet And I got mean I'm always pushing you away from me But you come back with gravity And when I call, you come home A bird in your teeth Dans le parc, nous regardons le coucher du soleil Parlons dans les balançoires rouillés Après un moment tu es devenu calme Et je suis devenue méchante Je te repousse toujours de moi Mais tu reviens avec pesanteur Et quand j'appelle, tu reviens  à ton domicile Un oiseau entre tes dents [Chorus] So I gotta go, I know, I know, I know When the sirens sound, you'll hide under the floor But I'm not gonna go down with my hometown in a tornado I'm gonna chase it, I know, I know, I know I gotta go now, I know, I know, I know Alors, je dois y aller, je sais, je sais, je sais Quand les sirènes résonnent, tu te cacheras sous le sol Mais je ne vais pas tomber avec ma ville natale dans une tornade Je vais le pourchasser, je sais, je sais, je sais Je dois aller maintenant, je sais, je sais, je sais [Verse 3] Driving out into the sun Let the ultraviolet cover me up Went looking for a creation myth Ended up with a pair of cracked lips Windows down, scream along To some America First rap country song A slaughterhouse, an outlet mall Slot machines, fear of God Windows down, heater on Big bolt of lightning hanging low Over the coast, everyone's convinced It's a government drone or an alien spaceship Either way, we're not alone I'll find a new place to be from A haunted house with a picket fence To float around and ghost my friends No, I'm not afraid to disappear The billboard said "The End Is Near" I turned around, there was nothing there Yeah, I guess the end is here The end is here (x4) Je conduis dans le soleil, je laisse l'ultraviolet me couvrir. Je suis allée un mythe de création, je me suis retrouvée avec une paire de lèvres fendus. Les fenêtres basses, je crie à une "America First" chanson de rap-country [really not sure how to do this line lol] Un abattoir, des magasins d'usine, les machines à sous, la peur de Dieu, les fenêtres basses, le radiateur allumé La grande foudre est suspendu bas Par-dessus la côte, tout le monde est convaincu il est un drone du tout gouvernement ou un vaisseau spatial des extraterrestres De toute façon, nous ne sommes pas seuls Je vais trouver un nouvel endroit d'où je viens Une maison hantée avec une palissade Voler et ["ghost"] mes amis ["ghost" is a play on words here so i'm not sure how to translate it, since part of the meaning is "ghost" in the modern slang sense of abandoning someone on a dating site/social media/etc] Non, je n'ai pas peur de disparaître Le panneau se lit "la fin est proche" Je me suis retournée, il n'y avait rien là Oui, je suppose la fin est ici La fin est ici

une reine, as they say in the french :) 

[keatsblue]

Hawks Are Migratory Birds

Hot take: Hawks & other winged BNHA characters migrate annually. It’s a huge deal.

He’d never been one to wonder at his heritage.

From a mother whose drunken delirium he barely remembered to an absentee father whose face he could no longer recall, the disparate snippets that formed his childhood were as sand slipping through a sieve, gone too quickly to be truly perceived. The president, who was like a mother and yet not, told him that was for the best. Older now, and motherless by his own design, Hawks was beginning to agree.

And yet, every day he felt the pull.

He pulled his flight jacket tighter to his form, fingers slipping-numb as he beat up with his wings. They were on fire from exertion, muscles straining even in the cold weather from the ever-so-draining tension of building a career, an agency, a life, building, building, building.

Patrols had been rougher, since some ragtag group of villains had launched that spectacular failure of an attack on Endeavor’s alma mater. Most of those involved had been apprehended, but it seemed it didn’t matter. Villains were getting bolder, slinking out of the shadows and onto city streets, where he was forced to deal with them.

He didn’t even want to begin with this Hero Killer business, but fuck. If the locals didn’t wreck that one’s shit, soon, he imagined he’d be called in on the case, as well.

The low rooftop he’d been perched on grew smaller underfoot, disappeared. Another beat, and the rest of Fukuoka’s darktown went with it.

It was always worse, when it got colder. Like an itch he needed to scratch. Sometimes he would fly out to the edge of town, eyes glued to the horizon, just for some relief.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was supposed to be somewhere , far beyond the city lights (they glimmered below, like tiny, happy fireflies). Lush, green landscapes haunted his dreams in visions of places he’d never been, yet somehow knew.

They’d first come to him when he was of a young age, though not so young that he didn’t already comprehend the phenomenon as something not to be shared with his handlers. It was an abnormality, certainly, yet it was one that could be successfully hidden--unlike fingernails that grew into talons, or feathered crests that necessitated a trip to a quirk cosmetologist every few months.

Abnormalities that could be hidden, it was safe to say, were always preferred.

He’d kept his landscapes, the pretty pictures in his head. He hadn’t told a soul, and when he woke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, trembling from equal parts frigid air and longing , Hawks couldn’t help but smile. It was his last bastion, the only part of himself he doubted he could be trained out of.

He was so tired.

The shrill tone of his phone’s ring interrupted his reverie. He dug a hand into a pocket on the inner lining of his flight jacket, goosebumps breaking out across his flesh as a rush of winter wind wormed its way through the opening. “Yo.”

“You really ought to be more professional when answering a call, Hawks.” His handler’s tinny voice cracked over the speaker, and Hawks suppressed a sigh.

It was an effort to affect his usual oblivious veneer. “Ah, can’t hear ya, man. Poor reception when I’m flyin’ this high. Come again?”

“Never mind,” his handler said, though his undertone was telling. “There’s a new mission on your docket. We’ll need you to report in to discuss it further.”

“Another so soon? C’mon, it’s the holidays.” But he’d already adjusted his course, eyes narrowing. What could they want with him now? He’d only been kinda kidding about the Hero Killer thing.

“You act like that has some sort of meaning for you,” came the clipped reply, and damn, they really liked to hit him where it hurt. “I expect your arrival shortly. You wanted to be a hero, didn’t you?”

He barely had time to grumble out a rebellious yes, mom before the man hung up, leaving Hawks with a million questions and a niggling feeling that something wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t until later, well after he’d planted his bony ass dead center on his handler’s too-firm, stiff-backed office sofa, that he was validated.

Hawks crossed his arms. “No. Absolutely not.”

His handler’s lips thinned. Fingers that had been busy clacking away at their keyboard paused in their work, so dead silence reigned. “You seem to be under the false impression that this is optional.”

“Am I a joke to you?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” the man said, finally, finally looking away from his monitor. He fixed the hero with a blank look. “Your mission is of the utmost importance-”

“It’s not my mission if I haven’t taken it yet.”

“Hawks.”

“No,” he repeated, with as much vehemence as he could muster. It was still a challenge, even now, not to immediately retract his statement. He wasn’t a little kid, anymore. “I’m not spying on the League of Villains.”

And there it was. The crux of the matter, thrust out into the open like so much dirty laundry. He wasn’t even trained for espionage, didn’t have the skill set for it, much less the desire to dabble. And he wasn’t that pathologic of a liar.

He wasn’t evil.

His handler released a deep breath, one that reverberated from deep within his lungs and rattled on the exhale. “You’re the only one who can do this.”

Hawks would’ve had to have been deaf not to catch the sudden shift in tone, subtle enough that it couldn’t be anything but intentional. He’d seen this song and dance, before. “No one’s gonna believe it. Me, falling to the figurative dark side? I’m the third-ranked hero, for fuck’s sake.”

When he only received another blank look, he raised a brow. “Really?”

“Your lackadaisical attitude lends your public persona a certain… côté méchant,” the man intoned, and Hawks couldn’t actually believe what he was hearing.

“What about Endeavor? Dude’s awesome, but he scares little kids.”

The response was automatic. “Endeavor is an upstanding man, destined to be the next pillar when we inevitably lose All Might. He would never stray to villainy.”

Hawks blinked, and beneath his skin, blood simmered and raged.

Then, he smiled. “Alright.”

Both of his handler’s eyebrows shot up, nearly disappearing into his hairline. “Alright, you’ll do it?”

Hawks stood, and pretended to brush some stray debris from his pant leg.

“No.” He took great pleasure in the way the man’s face crumpled, like he’d just flushed his holiday bonus down the drain. And who knew? Maybe he had. “I meant, alright, I’m done with this conversation.”

He didn’t look back as he dropped from the office balcony, no less than fifteen stories up. Didn’t turn around to answer his handler’s increasingly frantic cries.

No, Hawks kept his eyes on that tantalizing horizon. And this time, when it beckoned, he didn’t have the heart to resist.

He thought of lush landscapes. Of heroes, and villains.

Everyone’s waiting for me to snap.

So goddamnit, I’ll snap. 

***

He flew for hours. Days, perhaps. He’d lost track.

After a kilometer or dozen had passed him by, the near-constant noise from his jacket pocket had begun to grate on his ears. It had been simple, to pull out the offending object and drop it.

His phone. He’d dropped his phone.

He might’ve been flying over ocean at the time.

After that, the only thing filling his ears had been the welcome roar of the high winds, and the occasional monotonous chatter of customers in small-time general stores where he stopped for snacks.

Upon entering one such establishment, the shopkeeper had taken one look at his bedraggled wings, his windswept hair, and offered him a free meat bun. Hawks had wolfed it down before thinking to make conversation, much to the other’s apparent amusement.

That shopkeeper had been an old, portly man, with a patchy mustache to match thinned nails and faded tattoos. He’d regarded the hero with kind eyes, and spoke in warm tones.

You’re a little late this year, aren’tcha?

“Hah?” Hawks had replied, intelligently. In his defense, he’d been speaking around a mouthful of meaty goodness.

The shopkeeper laughed. “It’s okay. I know you winged fellas have your ways. My wife dated somebody, years before she met me, who made the journeys.”

At the time, Hawks had been speechless. Before he could think of a reply, the old man had disappeared behind the counter, calling out from a back room that the hero could also grab himself a cold beverage on the house.  

Hawks had chosen a can of green tea that’d tasted like shit going down, then promptly high-tailed it out of there. Now, though, he wondered if he should’ve stayed.

The skies around him had grown dark, and it wasn’t only due to the late hour. There was a brief flash, then thunder soon followed, rolling in from the distance to confirm his worst suspicions.

“A storm,” he murmured, and he couldn’t tell if he was speaking from inside his head or out of it. Fucking great.

Another boom of thunder threatened to split his eardrums, and Hawks careened to the side, before righting himself. Something wet landed on the crown of his head, trailing ice-cold down the back of his neck.

Fucking-

More raindrops fell in a sudden deluge, and he was instantly soaked to the bone. Maintaining altitude became more difficult, as he wrestled screaming gusts of wind for control of newly-laden wings.

When Hawks risked a glance downward, and saw only the obsidian spearpoints of violent, cresting waves, he knew he was in trouble. His chest heaved, but he couldn’t hear the sound of his own breath, over the static in his ears.

Freezing rain clouded his vision like salty tear tracks, except Hawks couldn’t blink them away. He rubbed at his face, dug his fingers into the crevices between his eyelids, to no avail.

It started to dawn on him, that he was going to die.

He was going to die a hero, but one that everyone suspected would turn villain.

No.

He wanted to live, he wanted-

Lightning cracked just in front of him, searing bright, and close enough Hawks could smell the ozone even through his waterlogged nostrils. His heart leaped in his chest, alive on pure adrenaline.

Were the waves below getting closer? Or was that just-

Another powerful gust sent him spiraling, beaten back and forth by the elements. Sharp pain and the taste of copper erupted in his own mouth--he must’ve bitten his tongue. When Hawks finally managed to stabilize, he’d definitely gotten closer.

Scanning his surroundings with renewed vigor, he knew he had to find land, or he was toast. Fried chicken. It was difficult work, through salt-reddened eyes, as the only thing darker than the squall surrounding him was the deadly water below. And contrary to popular belief, Hawks lacked the pinpoint vision of his namesake. He was forced to wait between deadly illuminations, to make any headway.

Flash.

Flash, and-

There. A hulking shape, an island, standing proud against the storm.

Hawks’ stomach leapt, and then sank.

It was so far away. He would never make it.

He strained toward it, anyway, reaching out a hand with fingers outstretched, as if that would make any difference when seaspray from the crests of waves was already lapping at his feet. His calves.

His back was on fire.

The world went dark once more on the dying breath of yet another spiderweb of lightning, though Hawks hardly noticed. He’d already been forced to shut his eyes against the strong headwind that’d just slammed against his front, pitching him back and into the unforgiving embrace of the sea.

Hawks’ first thought as the wings that’d formerly granted him freedom became sodden deadweights in the vice grip of the ocean’s gyre was damn, this water’s cold. His second was that this was, without a doubt, the worst possible reality. How else could he explain perishing of his own stupidity?

Then, black currents dragged him down, and he didn’t think at all.

***

Something rapped against his forehead, threatening to wake him. He didn’t want to wake. He ached all over, his eyes stung, and that incessant tapping was going to give him a migraine. He groaned, and tried to stretch a hand up, to shoo the tapper away. His arm didn’t quite comply, but it had the intended effect.

The assault halted abruptly, and there was a skittering of voices from above, too low and too fast for Hawks to catch. The sound of footsteps, retreating.

It was too late, though. He’d already been stirred to wakefulness, wings twitching minutely as he attempted to shift into a more comfortable position. He opened his eyes, which proved to be a mistake, as he immediately had to close them again for the brightness that pierced his retinas.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he wasn’t supposed to have woken, ever again. He just couldn’t remember why.

“I see you survived,” a voice called, different from the others he’d heard. He forced his eyes open, once more, squinting.

Slowly, the fuzzy shapes surrounding him started to coalesce. He adjusted the level of his gaze, and locked eyes with the one he presumed had spoken.

The newcomer was an older woman, from her appearance. She had grayed-out locks that framed a wizened face, all angles and sun-scars, though that was far from the most striking thing about her.

No, this woman had wings. They loomed large over her shoulders, slightly translucent and veined, like a bat’s. Hawks blinked to clear his vision, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quite connect what he was seeing with reality.

It had to be part of her quirk, though he’d never seen someone with wings as large as his, before. They weren’t quite the same, but they looked capable of flight.

At his continued blank stare, the woman tilted her head. She smiled, to reveal pointed canines. “You’ve taken quite the tumble, mister. Didn’t you read the advisory? It’s not safe to fly alone, around these islands.”

Fly alone? Who would he fly with?

His voice croaked as he voiced the question, throat scratched all to hell. The woman only laughed, as if he’d made a particularly funny joke.

Then, of all things, she smirked. “Guess I can’t blame you for wanting to catch up, though. You’re lucky the tide was coming in.”

Catch up? Why did people keep saying that?

Fuck. The general store. The storm.

“I have to get back to Kyushu,” he breathed. He didn’t know what came over him. He’d abandoned his agency, his sidekicks -

Now, it was the woman’s turn to blink in confusion. Her voice was carefully level. Quiet. “You really don’t know, do you?”

Hawks frowned. “Know what?”

The woman only shook her head, like he’d said something incredibly sad. Then, she stretched out a hand, waiting patiently until he took it.

He followed her out of the shade, which he could now see had been formed from a makeshift hut. Bare feet padded on soft grass, and he didn’t know where his boots had gone. Probably lost at sea, if he had to guess.

Despite everything--his aches and pains, the old woman’s strange demeanor--Hawks couldn’t help but be taken in by the greenery all around him. It was lush, vibrant. So unlike the concrete jungle he’d claimed to love all his life.

It seemed… familiar. Pulled straight from his dreams.

They turned a corner, and Hawks gasped.

At first, all he could see were the wings. There were so many different colors, different textures. Plumage, furred, leathery. He could even see some that were scaled, gathered together on the fringes. Horned, like a dragon’s.

Then, he noticed the people. They were also of varying colors, though not as glaringly so. There must have been hundreds, if not a thousand below, from what he could make out from their vantage point.

There were children playing. Adults, sharing foodstuffs between campfires.

Some were flying.

He turned, a million questions on his tongue. They all died when he found the woman already looking at him, her expression solemn.

He let out a nervous chuckle. Reached up to rub the back of his neck. “I’ve been missing something big, haven’t I?”

The woman ignored his question, in favor of asking another. “What is your name, young man?”

“Keigo,” he sputtered, before he could say Hawks. “Takami Keigo.”

His companion nodded, like he’d revealed something of great importance, instead of just stating his name. She stretched out a withered arm, gesturing toward the scene below with sharp, taloned fingers.

He hadn’t even noticed that, when she’d taken his hand.

“Keigo,” she said. “Welcome... to the migration.”

Uncertain of his welcome, he took a cautious step forward. Then, emboldened by the encouraging look the older woman shot him, he took another. Stretched out his own wings, unafraid of frightening passerby, or knocking something over. Maybe, he thought, I can stay. For just a while longer.

He took flight, and it felt like coming home.

Deep within his gut, the pull lessened.

Wavered.

...

Disappeared.

***

côté méchant = villainous, nasty side (via Google translate; I don't actually speak French)

[lacklusterswirl]

Ash x Ceil fic? I suggested it earlier in a different context :P

“Am I taking requests?” Kinda… if you send it in I’ll write it eventually… but I do prefer angst most of the time soooo :p

For those that don’t know, Ciel is an OC who’s technically from an original story of mine, but sometimes shows up in R6 stuff I write just cause he’s also JTF 2.

.

This time, it was Ciel who asked for help, and Rainbow answered. Ash hadn’t seen him since Buck and Frost were first recruited, and when they… well, just leave it the fact that they know each other. But for a budding romance that was already so slow to start, she doesn’t know if he would ever be interested in someone like her for more than just a one night stand. She was intense, stuck-up, and just had to be in control, and he was trying to keep himself from falling back into a similar pattern. And for good reason. Uncertainty tends to kill romance, and she thinks she sees that here too.

Warnings: Mentions of injuring, gunfights, cannon typical violence. (~2.4k words)

“You again?”

Ciel looked away from the blueprints of the building they were preparing to infiltrate. There were strings and pins around the map like he had spent hours on it, but they weren’t the focus of his attention anymore. “You’re part of a Canadian op. Who else were you expecting?”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” another man bumped into her as he went to stand by Ciel. No doubt, despite the impressive stripes on the newer man’s shoulder, Ciel was still higher rank. He always had to be on top, that bastard. He wasn’t even in his fucking uniform, the slob.

As if he read her mind, he looked up and smirked. “Do you plan on joining us anytime soon?”

Ash rolled her eyes and stepped in to take a closer look at the pins. “Sledge and Blitz will be here soon. They had to stop by and get some kind of special badge to walk around.”

“And you made it here first?” The stranger chimed in. His name tag said Millier though, so that must’ve been his last name.

Ciel smirked and looked back up at his own pins. “Ne sois pas méchant. She’s a guest.” Ash just rolled her eyes.

During the briefing, Ciel was calm and didn’t seem to make a big deal out of the op. It was simple. Go in, clear, and get out. No secondary objectives or anything. However, a simple op like that wasn’t why you called in an international org like Rainbow. All these thoughts were over ridden the entire time though because Ash swore that he was making fun of her for something. His eyes seemed to stay on her for a moment longer than the others, and it made her wonder if he was trying to tell her something more subtle. So, afterwards, she stayed behind.

“Something wrong, Ash?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“Well, I’ve never been better, thanks for asking.” He took a seat on the table so one leg was off the other ground, but the other was still touching the floor. Even now, he seemed in control. As he always was. From the moment she met him to now, this was always how he was.

“There’s nothing else?” She didn’t misread him. For how guarded he was, his patterns were quite simple. “I know you, you know?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to come out around town with me and Millier tomorrow. Bring your team if you’d like. I know Millier wants to hear about your work.”

“So, this has nothing to do with Buck?”

Ciel gave that coy smile to show that she was right. “I figured that if you didn’t want to tell me, that it wouldn’t be an answer I wanted to hear. You do make the teams after all, eh?”

“Buck… well, he’s moved on.”

“And Frost?”

“She’s doing well, if that’s what you want to know. Knows her way around a mission, and is always a comfort to have on your side. She’s fine as well. They aren’t concerns of Rainbow.”

He made some vague agreeing sound. “And you?” Those green eyes settled on her, and she almost felt uncomfortable.

“I’m well. Nothing new has happened, though I was surprised to hear that you called in help this time. Pulling favours? Must be important. You didn’t sound so stressed when you were talking.”

“I can’t disclose much. But know that your organization’s presence here is very welcomed.”

And by the tone of his voice, he meant it.

You don’t send in two higher ranking officers, one of whom was a legend, and three Rainbow ops for just any mission. And so, this was about what Ash expected. They were engaged in heavy fire from the moment they were deployed. Ash looked over at where Sledge was taking shots through the side door and giving a short report every time one went down.

Blitz was with the Canadian ops while they were going straight through the front door, and from the sound of things, they already made their entry. This wasn’t good. They were meant to enter at the same time, but Ash and Sledge were still posted at their door, unable to set foot in the house.

“Lobby clear, but footsteps are approaching from upstairs— CONTACT!” Ciel’s breathy voice broke her away for a quick moment until bullets flew at her again. She nodded at Sledge, they couldn’t fall any further behind. Together, she and Sledge broke into the kitchen and started clearing enemies who were fleeing from Ciel’s team down the stairs and into their waiting crosshairs.

An explosion sounded from above them, and Ash had to take cover from the bullets raining from above. She glanced over at Sledge but saw him testing his left hand.

“Sledge?”

“Grazed my arm when I was breaking down the door. Starting to feel it now.”

“Shit… Stay safe, we’re almost done. Let me know if it gets too bad.”

He nodded and they turned around the corner to take out the last few terrorists in the room.

“This is Ash, we’re going downstairs.”

“Copy.” That was Millier. Why was he the one responding?

“Ash, what are you waiting for? Count me down,” Sledge hissed. Ash nodded and counted them down. The moment they landed, they immediately went back to back as they cleared out the room. Out the room and taking a corner put them in a good position to take out a few without direct engagement.

“This is Mil reporting, top floor is cleared, but Ciel got thrown in the blast from earlier.”

Ash’s heart stopped.

“He’ll be ok, just a little shaken.”

She sighed, relieved, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why it mattered so much. It wasn’t like she could do anything about it now either. She and Sledge had to continue their assault.

When it was all done, and Ciel was safely extracted, there was a tense silence on the plane. Ciel had his eyes closed, trying to block out all sound, while Millier was preparing dressings and ice packs. As for Rainbow, Blitz and Sledge were staring at Ash, expecting an outburst. That was her reputation after all. She was intense, focused, too stuck-up, and hot-headed. However, she waited until debrief before demanding the whole story while Ciel was in the infirmary.

They were clearing out the master bedroom, and Ciel was about to push in when Blitz motioned that he would take point with the shield. As he moved forward though, Ciel must’ve caught something on his sensor because he lunged at the German operator while Millier covered them. It was unneeded though. The C4 killed the only terrorist in the room and Ciel had gotten thrown into a wall. Blitz was a little shocked, but fine otherwise.

“I don’t understand. I have a shield for a reason,” he complained the moment Ciel stepped into the briefing room.

“Your back was facing it, what else was I gonna do?” Ciel responded, taking a seat with a slight grimace. “It was calculated though. I knew the layout of the room, the number of enemies, and my own strength.”

“That… I—”

While Blitz stuttered a little trying to come up with a response, Ciel just smiled at Ash and Millier. “How was the rest of debrief?”

“Elle est trop—”

“Elle peut nous comprendre, Millier. Dis-le à moi plus tard.” Ciel gave Ash a small smile and nodded at the rest. “You are all dismissed. Thank you, Rainbow, for coming in. Things would’ve been a little hairier had that been just a two-man op.”

Blitz and Sledge both stood to leave the room, and after a moment – and a few seconds of unsure eye contact – Millier followed them. Ciel waited until the door was closed until he spoke to Ash.

“Millier interrupted earlier, but what did you think of the mission?”

“Why do you care? It’s over,” she helped him pack up the files, reaching for things that would otherwise hurt him to stretch and grasp for. “It’s a success. Congrats.”

“Oh, come on. I can tell you’re mad at me. And a little bit mad at yourself too?”

Well, since he asked for it. “You shouldn’t have gone upstairs. You shouldn’t have entered before I did.”

“The plan was set in motion. Millier and I are best suited to more enclosed spaces, and Blitz had a shield. It was the right team. And entering didn’t lead to any mistakes.”

“It desynced us.”

“It didn’t matter if we were in sync or not. That C4 was ready for us, and it would’ve been thrown whether or not we were synced.”

“The mission wasn’t perfect.” Ash slammed a stack of papers down on the desk in a perfect pile.

“No mission is.” Ciel grabbed them and packed them away haphazardly.

Ash glared at him. “Our reputation—”

“Will not be affected.” Ciel was counting photos, only looking up once to take in her expression.

She could feel the heat creeping up her neck, as she said the next line. “You almost died.”

There. That made him stop. “I didn’t… You know what? Stay here, I’ll be back.”

It took perhaps ten minutes and Ciel was back with a bottle of golden liquid and two glasses. “It’s to help you destress,” he said, offering the glass he just poured. “Drink it slowly though, I would like you to help me finish up here.”

“You aren’t in charge of me anymore,” she smiled around the glass, but complied anyways. God, she hated whiskey, but the soothing burn was a comfort.

Ciel paused as he was placing the next batch of papers in a box. “You know,” he placed his hands on the table and looked Ash directly in the eye. “Millier loves you. Not like… a romantic love, but he is obsessed with your skill and how you command your unit. He admires you. As do all the soldiers you work with, even the ones who don’t really show it. Cut yourself some slack.”

“Can’t get complacent. Not everyone can take ten years off from this work to raise a child then come back basically the same.”

“It’s not complacency, it’s called forgiveness. And everyone made sure to let me know that… gah, that I had… changed.” He made a motion to his general body, and Ash got the general idea. “Yet I had to forgive myself then too.”

She stopped moving her hands as she noticed he hadn’t done anything in the past few minutes. “Get your ass moving or else we’ll be stuck in here for hours.”

He chuckled, but went back to work. Another moment of silence passed before he spoke up again. “I know you still don’t like Buck because of me.”

Her eyes flew up to meet his. “I don’t hold anything against Buck.”

“Except the fact that I was engaged to him about fifteen years ago, and yet I still request regular check-ins with him and Frost, while I haven’t talked to you since… that night.” The way he looked at her while still organizing told her that he knew exactly what he was doing, and the reaction she wanted to give was what he was expecting.

“Is this how you work?” she asked him. There, he wasn’t expecting that.

He tilted his head slightly to the side and looked back down as he started scribbling on a new set of forms.

“Is my handwriting not neat enough?”

With Ciel, as she had learned the first time, it payed to be direct. He wasn’t one to be easily offended, especially if there was no intention. “Are you trying to get me to be one of those girls and boys for you?”

“… One of those girls and boys? You make me sound like I’m constantly hooking up with people.”

“…Aren’t you?” She gave him an even look. For how responsible he was in every endeavor he took, relationships were not one of them.

“Not constantly. No one can do it that often. I certainly can’t. I am getting older,” he smirked, finally standing up and placing the last pile in the box. “You know me. If you want something, it’s best just to ask.”

“I don’t want to be just another one-night stand for you again.”

“You don’t have to be, I mean, you’re already moving onto a two-night status, aren’t you?” He picked up the box with a quiet huff and started to turn away before freezing in place to face her once more.

“I think I get what’s wrong,” he murmured. “You think that I think that you’re easy. And that I don’t respect you.”

Ash stared back, refusing to give anything away, which, in itself, was a giveaway.

“Eliza…” Him saying her real name was… it was bringing back memories she’d rather leave alone. “I won’t judge you for who you sleep and don’t sleep with, and I know you like to stress over the things you don’t know, but… don’t think of me as someone you need to stress over. That’s the last thing I want to be to you.”

“Then how about tonight, Skye? I know you have to check with Iris first, but after… well, I haven’t been in Toronto before.”

He flashed her a smile that practically glowed. “It would be my pleasure. Just don’t make fun of me too much when I get stiff. Age is unpredictable. So are nitro’s.”

“Does this mean you’ll stop ignoring my requests to put operators in your missions?”

“Not a chance!” He spun and leaned against the door with his back. “Knowing you, you’ll outdo too many of my newer soldiers, and they’ll never gain any leadership experience working with you. Ask again when I’m in charge, then I’ll consider it.” Ash was shaking her head at him. “What? You’re too good for some of them!”

“What a jealous old man,” she shook her head.

“Oh, come off it now, I can’t be that much older than you, right?”

“Aren’t you like fifty?”

“F-” his eyebrows furrowed. “Fifty? What did Buck tell you? I’m the same age as him!” She chuckled, and he let the mock frown change into a more satisfied smile. “Come knock on my office when you’re ready.”

“See you then.”

The door closed behind him, and she turned to back her gadget. The bastard always tried to get her to fucking relax, and it worked every time. As long as she didn’t see her operators with this blush, she was sure she could save face. Or not. What were they going to say to her anyways?

[savage-angel-was-a-mistake]

What’s the Worst That Could Happen? Chapter 2 - A HUNGRY Moron

Summary:  Their campaign is in shambles. Sasuke is Michael Phelps-ing with how he might appear to others while Naruto is Usain Bolt-ing his way to inhaling an ungodly amount of food.

“You have two dinners scheduled tonight. Two. How did you do that?”

“I dunno, Sas, you’re my schedule.”

Sasuke closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, “Naruto, I would never, never, schedule you two dinners in one night.”

“Apparently you would.” Naruto scooted around to see Sasuke over the back of the couch. “Hey, whose dinners?”

“You have a dinner with the Fischer’s as well as the Greywood’s.” Sasuke tapped the end of his pen on his lip. His brows were furrowed in concentration.

“…Is Fischer the one with the steak?” Naruto asked.

“Yes, and the Greywood’s have various forms of pasta for their Italian themed dinner.” Sasuke shook his head slightly, “Why theme a dinner after a nationality?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.”

Sasuke looked up at Naruto.

“…about what?”

“About the dinners!”

“What about the dinners.”

“I scheduled them.”

Sasuke’s jaw dropped.

“Why? They’re happening at the same time!” His voice pitch raised in panic.

“Parce que je veux des aliments, Sasuke (Because I want food, Sasuke).”

“Quoi?” Naruto smiled at the response.

“Parce que je veux des aliments, connard (Because I want food, shithead).”

 “Tu es un crétin, Naruto (You’re a moron, Naruto)!” Sasuke growled out in frustration.

“Un affamé crétin (A hungry moron)!” Naruto smiled and nodded happily at Sasuke.

“Je vais te tuer (I’m going to kill you).”

“Come on, I have a plan.”

“Of course, you do.” Sasuke rolled his eyes. He plopped down beside the smiling Naruto on the couch.

“Okay, the Fischer’s are full of younger people. The Greywood’s, they’re a bit of an… older crowd,” Naruto looked at Sasuke, “you follow?”

Sasuke shook his head slowly. A look of sincere concern for Naruto’s wellbeing graced his features.

“Older people eat dinner earlier.”

“The Fischer’s dinner is at the same time as the Greywood’s, Naruto.”

“But,” Naruto drawled out the vowel, “the dinner for the Greywood’s will be finished, out, and consumed before the Fischer’s have even thought of starting dinner.”

“That is so wildly untrue, Naruto.”

“No, it’s not. I want steak and pasta! I WILL make this work!”

The door to the hotel room opened to reveal Shikamaru, one of the friends Naruto decided to assign to his pitiful campaign.

“We need to leave. Fischer or Greywood?” Shikamaru asked.

“Neith-“

Naruto pounced on Sasuke, successfully cutting him off.

“GREYWOOD!”

“Alright.” Shikamaru looked at Sasuke.

“Hey, you’re not married to him.”

“That’s fair.”

Naruto jumped up off the couch. He waited for Sasuke to get up before he exited the room. Sasuke looked down at his tablet as Naruto marched triumphantly beside him.

“…we didn’t talk about how you’re even going to consume that much food.”

“The laws of physics will not tether down a man in need of some good steak and pasta.”

“I’m going to have to have a talk with the laws of physics, then.” Sasuke mumbled.

“You’re just a sore loser.” Naruto poked him.

Sasuke swatted his hand away, “If people knew this was how you operated, your campaign would be down the drain faster than a pound of salt can melt an ice cube.”

Naruto chuckled, “That’s not a saying, Sas.”

“Yes, it is. I said it, therefore it is.”

The trio exited the hotel. Naruto basked in the sunlight before turning to Sasuke.

“Pourquoi tu t’énerves (Why so angry)?”

“Comme je tu l’avons dit, tu es un crétin. (Like I told you, you’re a moron).”

Naruto laughed, “C’est méchant, Sasuke (That’s mean, Sasuke).”

“Je m’en fische (I don’t care).”

Naruto held the door open for Sasuke when they got to the car.

“Watch your head, princess.” Naruto said.

“Don’t call me princess.” Sasuke scolded him.

“That’s right, not outside the bedroom, sorry.”

Sasuke shot Naruto a healthy glare. Naruto laughed under his breath as he closed the door.

“Do you guys say something I don’t need to hear when you do that?” Shikamaru asked.

“Hm?” Naruto made his way around the car, “When we do what?”

“Switch to French. I only know so much, you know.”

“Oh, no,” Naruto laughed, “I switch so often because I’m still so impressed by how fast Sasuke subconsciously switches.” Naruto paused before opening the door, “And, honestly? The change in accent is cute.”

“He has a pretty heavy accent already, Naruto.”

“Yeah, but it’s different when he speaks French.” Naruto opened the door, “It’s cute.”

Shikamaru rolled his eyes and shook his head as Naruto’s door shut.

“Whatever.”

Sasuke was always impressed by how easily Naruto made a good impression on people.

The Greywoods’ party was going well so far. Naruto was correct to some extent; the dinner had already been cooked and had begun to trickle into the dining hall. Sasuke hoped that Naruto knew well enough that the dinners were to gain sponsors and not to freeload the food. Sasuke looked down at the glass of wine in his hand. He didn’t drink much, but a glass in his hand makes him seem more comfortable in a place where he’s completely uncomfortable.

Sasuke narrowed his eyes as the younger of the two Greywood granddaughters made a very obvious yet feeble attempt at wooing Naruto. Sasuke wasn’t going to put an end to it until there it was evident it would result in some awful uproar without him stepping in. Women loved to throw themselves at Naruto. Sasuke trusted him, but he could be… oblivious. Sasuke was just trying to keep a handle on things.

He looked back down at his tablet. By Naruto’s strange calculations, the Fischer’s would have their dinner out in about 2 hours. It took 30 minutes to get there, give or take 10 minutes, depending on Shikamaru’s attentiveness to traffic laws that evening.

Honestly? This whole campaign was a mess. Sasuke was acting as Naruto’s campaign manager, which was beneficial in the end because it meant he could keep a close eye on the presidential hopeful. He was also one of the only people that could handle Naruto and steer him in the right direction; even so, Sasuke wasn’t able to do this all the time.

Shikamaru was kind of a chauffeur of sorts.  He was a college buddy of Naruto. Kiba Inuzuka was an errands kind of guy. He wasn’t present half the time and Sasuke could never pinpoint where he was. He helped some… Naruto refused to drop him, since Kiba was a friend from high school. Sasuke questioned his choice of friends when he had learned of that tidbit of information.

The whole process was tough. Neither Sasuke nor Naruto had any political experience, not that it was to be expected of a college professor and a freelance artist. Their only minor saving grace was Sasuke’s prior experience as a scriptwriter for candidates in local elections, which was quite brief. Naruto was very passionate and charismatic and, hell, he was even well informed thanks to Sasuke, but that could only get him so far. The system was messed up and without any inside knowledge Sasuke feared they wouldn’t be able to use it to their advantage. It was so easy to make enemies in all of this –

Sasuke looked at his beeping watch. He turned off the alarm before approaching Naruto and the somehow increasingly scantily clad young Miss Greywood.

Sasuke cleared his throat. Heads turned in his direction.

“Your request for our presence is much appreciated, unfortunately Uzumaki has another engagement he needs to attend shortly. We thank you for inviting us to your home.” Sasuke said politely.

Naruto turned to Mrs. And Mr. Greywood, “We gotta head out. Sorry for bailing so early but duty calls!”

“Oh, thank you for coming! It has been a pleasure!” Mrs. Greywood said happily.

“Uzumaki, I’ll contact you later.” Mr. Greywood nodded towards him.

“Everything goes through this guy right here,” Naruto gestured to Sasuke, “but we look forward to hearing from you!”

Naruto joined Sasuke at his side.

“Ready?” He asked.

Sasuke turned wordlessly to the exit. Naruto walked silently beside his eerily quiet husband.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mrs. and Mr. Greywood.” Sasuke replied.

“What about them? I thought they were lovely.”

“They listened to you.”

“They did.”

“They didn’t listen to me.”

Naruto nodded in acknowledgement to the greeter at the door briefly, “What makes you think that?”

“They looked at me.”

Naruto rolled his eyes, “People do that, Sasuke.”

Sasuke turned to him as Shikamaru pulled up in the driveway.

“My accent is too thick.”

Naruto’s face dropped immediately.

“No, it’s not, Sas! It’s cute!”

“Yeah, well, they’re not married to me, so they don’t think it’s cute.” Sasuke leaned against the car door.

“Why are you worried? Lots of people have lots of accents, my guy – you’re fine.”

“I’m worried that when they hear me, and they see me next to you, they’re going to see Mr. President and some foreigner on the side.”

Naruto sighed. He grasped both of Sasuke’s arms lightly.

“Sasuke. I’m not going to give you up because of this.”

“I’m worried about the campaign.”

“I’m not.”

Sasuke gave him The Look™.

“Then why are you running?” Sasuke asked.

“Because I felt like it. Spur of the moment. I’m not going to give up my lifetime sunshine funtime for a spur of the moment dealio, Sas.”

Sasuke looked down.

“I’m having fun, Sas. I’d love to be president, I think I might be able to do some pretty cool things, but… I’m never going to give up on you. Never. Nothing will ever make me give up on you.”

Sasuke looked up at Naruto sheepishly.

“I guess it is kind of stupid.” Sasuke mumbled.

“No, it’s not,” Naruto assured him, “it’s how you feel. I’m just worried that you’ve brought this up so many times. You’re overthinking. And you know what I say about you overthinking?”

“…I’m like the Michael Phelps of swimming in thoughts.”

“Yeah, and I’m the Usain Bolt of rushing towards disaster.”

Naruto pecked Sasuke on the lips softly.

“You’re okay, okay?” Naruto asked softly. Sasuke nodded.

“Je t’aime, Sasuke (I love you, Sasuke).”

“Je t’aime aussi… tu crétin (I love you too… you moron).”

Navigation: Chapter 1, You are Here!, Chapter 3, Chapter 4,  Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Read on AO3 Read on ff.net

[fan-fic-fix]

The More the Merrier (Poly!Hamilsquad x reader)

Pairing: Hamilsquad x reader

Word Count: 1490

Warnings: It is probably shitty because I wrote it at 2:30 am and wrote it in 2 hours. 

Summary: You find out you’re pregnant, but you don’t know whose it is and you are scared to tell them. 

“DADDY! MOMMY! DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!” Frances called as she ran down the hallway to your bedroom.

 Frances was your first child. She was 4 years old and totally unplanned. You or your boys didn’t care one bit. Even though the baby was John’s, Alexander, Laf, and Hercules loved her just as their own. You wanted to have a kids with all of your boys and soon you would. Frances came along after you were sick and John stayed home to take care of you because he had the most days saved up to take off. You were complaining about your fever and John jokingly said sex was the cure, naturally you tackled him onto the bed and the rest is history. The other boys were a little hurt at first because they all secretly wanted to be the first, but they were so happy to have a baby. Soon there would be a little one running into the bedroom and 7 on a Saturday morning, but none of the boys knew it yet.

 “Can we pleeeeaaasseeee have turtle shaped pancakes for breakfast?!?!” she begged as she jumped on to the bed.

 “Of course. Go in the living room and turn on the tv, we will be in there shortly sweetheart,” Hercules told her as he embraced her.

 “Okay,” Frances smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek.

 You watched Hercules melt. You were so excited to have another child. They were all so caring and sweet and loving fathers, you were just scared to tell them because you didn’t know whose it was. You also weren’t sure how much longer you were going to hold off on telling them. John started to get up to go to the kitchen when he was pushed aside.

 “(Y/N)!” he shouted.

 “Sorry!” you shouted back from the other side of the closed bathroom door.

 “Are you okay, mon amour?” Laf asked.

 “I’m fine, I’ll be out in a minute,” you assured.

 “You don’t sound okay,” Alexander said.

 You brushed your teeth and emerged from the bathroom.

 “You don’t sound okay. Did you brush your teeth?” Herc asked.

 “We haven’t even had breakfast yet, and you are totally against brushing teeth before breakfast,” John reminded you.

 “What’s going on, (Y/N)?” Alexander asked as he had you up against the door.

 He had his hands on the wall on either side of you. He had you trapped you had to tell them. You took a deep breath.

 “I’m glad you brushed your teeth, that would not have been a pleasant smell after you just threw up.” Alexander said as he pressed his one hand on your forehead.

 “Ummm, I’m not sick. I, um, I’m pregnant.” you said looking down at the floor.

 Alex immediately wrapped you up in his arms followed by the rest of the boys joining in.

 “Why didn’t you tell us?” Herc asked.

 “Well I don’t exactly know whose it is and I was scared.”

 “Hey, you don’t need to be scared we will all love this baby like it is our own. You already know that,” Alex said lifting up your head.

 “I know, it was stupid, but I just remember y’alls faces when I told you about Frances.”

 “Look, we all hoped to be the first one but soon we realized that we were all going to be a dad. Even if it wasn’t ours biologically we were still going to love her like she is, and we still do,” Alex said.

 “I’m sorry.”

 “No sweat.”

 After breakfast you showered and came into the living room but stopped at the door. You were watching Frances sit on Laf’s lap as he read her a book teaching her french. You imagined a little Marquis running around with a head full of hair. Frances had her dad’s freckles and curly hair. You were thankful for that. Then you thought of a little Alexander running around probably learning how to write before they talked, or baby Herc sewing clothes for a doll.

 ********

Countless doctor’s appointments later you were sitting in the hospital with a baby wrapped up in a blue blanket. Frances looked at the baby boy in awe along with her dads.

 “He is to cute mommy,” she said softly.

 “I know, are you excited to finally meet your baby brother and be a big sister?”

 “Yes mommy, can play dress up with him?”

 “No sweetheart, this is a real baby not a doll.”

 “But what about all the clothes daddy made for him?”

 “Those aren’t for play. You can read all of the books daddy wrote for him though. How about that?”

 “Can I help daddy make the baby food? He can teach me to make food in french!”

 “That’s up to him sweetie.”

 “He can sleep with the stuffed turtle me and daddy picked out, right?”

 “Of course.”

 Frances leaned down and kissed the forehead of her new brother.  

 *********

 Your baby boy was now 5 and Frances was 9. He was just like his father, spoke just like him too. Marquis’ first word was Papa and he hasn’t stopped speaking french since. He loved to help in the kitchen too. Even though we was just like Laf, Marq showed signs of the others too. You found little drawings of clothes all over his room, he left you notes every morning next to your coffee (you usually couldn’t read it but it was adorable), and he loved animals, not just turtles, but all animals.

 “MOOOOOMMMYYYYY!!!!” Marq screamed from the other room.

 “What honey? What happened?”

 “Fan killed a bug then used one of my masterpieces to clean it up.”

 Dramatic, just like Laf.

 “Honey you’re going to be fine. You have plenty of others.”

 “Fan is caca téte!”

 “Alex!!!”

 “Yes my dearest?”

“Why did you teach him poo head in french?”

 “Why do you assume it was me? His dad is the one who speaks french.”

 “Alex, babe, that’s what you call Jefferson when you rant about him.”

 “Okay, fine. I am sorry. At least when he starts school no one else will know.”

 “Mommy, where is daddy?”

 “Which one honey?”

 “The one with the same hair as me.”

 “He is on his way home from work. Why do want to know?”

 “I am hungry.”

 “Well I will start dinner.”

 “No.”

 “No?”

 “Your cooking.... Méchant.”

 “MES CHERIS!! I AM HOME!!”

 The kids ran to Laf and hugged him. John and Hercules came in behind him and the kids hugged them too. Hercules planted a kiss on each of their cheeks. You and Alex stood watching, he had his arms around your waist. Hercules pulled out some gifts for the little ones. Laf held Frances and John was holding Marquis as Herc handed them new clothes. John and Laf looked at each other and smiled, they leaned in and gave each other a lingering kiss. Herc leaned in too and they both kissed his cheek and the kids giggled. You loved your family that drew weird stares from everyone when y’all decided to have dinner or a movie or taking the kids out for ice cream. You really loved how Hercules and Alexander loved Frances and Marquis even though biologically neither of them were theirs. You couldn’t wait for you to have two more kids, you just didn’t know when they day would come for the last one.

 “Hey, Alex.”

 “Yeah?”

 “I’m pregnant.”

He kissed your neck, “I know,” he said.

 “How?”

 “I feel you get out of bed every morning.”

 “Do the rest of our boys know?”

 “Yeah, you have to climb over half of us either way you get out of the bed, and you’re not the most graceful person.”

 “Why didn’t y’all say anything?”

 “Why didn’t you tell us? Were you scared Herc would be upset?”

 “Yeah…”

 “You remember the day when we were both here because I was working from home?”

 “Yeah, that’s when it happened I’m pretty sure.”

 “I know it is. Hercules and I talked about it because we noticed you were dropping hints about wanting another child, he said he wouldn’t mind being the last one. He said he has to help design some clothes for some actor or something so he would have to fly to L.A. pretty frequently and it wouldn’t be the right time for him.”

 “When were y’all going to tell me this?”

 “Tell you what sweetheart?”

 “You saying you were okay with being the last dad.”

 “I don’t know…”

“It’s okay, I didn’t tell y’all about Frances or Marquis.”

 “So when is Alex Jr due to join us?”

 “February.”

 “Mon chéri! Another Alex?”

 “Yo, what?”

“Mommy, am I going to be a big sister again?”

 “Yes sweetie. Marquis, you are going to be a big brother!”

 “What does that mean maman?”

 “There is a baby in mommy’s tummy. You are going to have a little brother or sister soon.”

 “Oh. In your tummy? How did it get there?”

[ylla]

Farhenheit or Centigrade

Series: JJBA Ships: avpol Tags: Grinding, Dirty Talk, Anal Sex, Handcuffs, Groping, Teasing Rating: E

AO3 LINK

ALRIGHT, tuffle-puff commissioned me for some avpol, and who am I to deny such a polite request (not to mention avpol being like, one of my very favorite JJBA ships ever). I hope you enjoy it, I worked damn hard on it. This went through at least five rewrites before I got something I really liked down. If you like what you see, and want to commission me, feel free to message me, and we will work something out!

Also, big apologies for the terrible French. I can't speak a lick of it, and I had to rely on google translate.

As always, remember to comment on the fic, kudos the fic, and bookmark the fic to see more of the same fic content.

"Putain été," Polnareff grumbled as he dragged himself home. The city was in the middle of the nastiest heatwave in recent memory, and Jean Pierre Polnareff, who in his infinite wisdom decided that he should walk the five blocks to the gym and back, was the only man stupid enough to be out in it.

His boyfriend had offered to drop him off at the gym on his way to the grocery store, but Polnareff had shot him down. It was just a little heat! Anyone who complained about it was being a big baby. Clearly, the joke had been on him, because he was melting by the time he reached the gym. He had been the first patron of the gym that day when he arrived, and was still the only soul there when he was finished with his workout. The guy working the front desk even offered to give him a ride home, stating that it was so dead, no one would notice. Plus, you know, the gym might be considered liable if Polnareff died from heat stroke on his way home. Of course, pride caused Polnareff to refuse. He'd be fine, he was sure of it.

Flat-top drooping, basketball shorts and tanktop sticking to his skin, a pool of sweat in his beat-up Nikes. Polnareff had made a big mistake; this was easily the shittiest hill to die on. He would succumb to dehydration or the heat before making it home, he was sure. Just collapse on the sidewalk and expire, corpse frying like a big piece of raw chicken in a skillet. No one who loved him would know what had happened to the sexy Jean Pierre Polnareff. Perfect strangers would find him hours later, after the cursed sun had set and reasonable people would finally leave the cool confines of their homes to enjoy the outdoors, only to stumble upon a perfectly cooked idiot on the ground.

This was a weird line of thinking, and Polnareff did his best to push it out of his mind. When his apartment complex rolled into view, he nearly wept out of joy. The brisk air from the lobby made his knees almost buckle, damn near making him look like an even bigger fool to the people milling around. He was one to walk the 4 flights of stairs to the apartment, but he was just goddamn tired today. Which was unfortunate for the people that shared the elevator with him. They visible recoiled from him as he took his place in the middle. The Frenchman was mildly offended. He didn't stink did he? Was he that sweaty? The answer to both of these questions was a resounding 'Yes'.

When he opened his apartment door, he actually did sob little. Mostly because Polnareff was dramatic, but who cares? Iggy wasn't in the immediate vicinity, and Polnareff was pretty sure Avdol was still out shopping. The cold tile of the living room floor was the oasis to his overheated traveler. Polnareff sank to his knees and laid face first onto the ground, groaning into the stone. It took him a few minutes to kick his shoes off, but once he was successful, the relief was immediate. As was him succumbing to exhaustion; he passed out on the ground before he could truly appreciate how it felt against his skin.

It felt like only minutes passed before he was woken by something tugging his hair and what felt like someone's foot poking him in the head. Polnareff turned his head and cracked an eye open. His boyfriend, Mohammed Avdol, stood over him.

"Bonsoir, Jean," he deadpanned, "I see that your workout didn't go so well."

"That went fine, it was the walking to and from that kicked my ass," Pol whined. There was an attempt at rolling over, but something still incessantly tugged at his hair. "If that's Iggy chewing on my hair, I swear-"

Avdol started laughing, "It is." Av made shooing motions, which earned him a snarl from Iggy, but Pol felt the toothy grip in his hair relinquish. "Come on, let's finish cooling you off," Avdol walked into the kitchen, "I bought those popsicles you like."

"Thank god," Polnareff groaned as he got to his feet, following Avdol into the kitchen, "I'm so damn hot."

Avdol busied himself with pulling out two popsicles out of the freezer; Polnareff swiped a water bottle and started guzzling it down like he hadn't seen water in 50 years. In his enthusiasm, he splashed water all over himself, causing his white tank to cling to his pecs more than it already had been.

"Mo, give me the goods," he panted after finishing his water, "You got the best flavor right?"

Avdol hummed, "Alarmingly Blue Raspberry? Of course I did, we both know you refuse to eat any other flavor. Here-" When Avdol turned towards him, popsicle in hand, he stopped short, eyes glued to the accidental one-man wet t-shirt contest Polnareff had entered in.

Polnareff didn't notice, he was too busy ripping the wrapper off of the popsicle and shoving it into his mouth. It was just the right amount of cold he needed, and he couldn't but close his eyes and moan around it, sliding it in and out of his mouth. Typically, Polnareff mimed giving a blowjob on any phallic food in Avdol's presence. Hell, what kickstarted their relationship was a determined Polnareff deepthroating a banana for the 3rd time that week. But at that moment, any kind of obscene noises or actions he was making wasn't on purpose. He was too tired, too hot, too sweaty-

Warm hands started groping his chest. Polnareff opened his eyes and was met with Avdol's hungry expression. If it had been literally any other time, he would've already been naked, ready to be dicked down in the middle of their kitchen. But, at that moment? No way.

He held his half-eaten popsicle in his mouth and smacked Avdol's hands away. Avdol put them back, Pol smacked them away again. This went on before Polnareff spat his popsicle out in the sink, "Stop, I'm gross!"

"I don't care that you're sweaty."

They kept slapping at each other, before it devolved into full-on wrestling, pushing and shoving each other out of the kitchen and down the hallway. Both were equaled in strength, and neither used underhanded tactics to gain an edge over the other. They may play for keeps, but it was always on level.

Unfortunately, in his attempt to stop himself from getting more sweaty, Polnareff started getting way too hot again, perspiring even more. Hindsight's 20/20. Clothes were being pulled off, though Pol's were more difficult, since they were damp from sweat. Which made him curl his lip in disgust.

Stripped to his underwear, Polnareff was shoved backwards onto their bed; he hadn't even realized they had made it that far. Av peeled off his undershirt and tried to straddle him, but Polnareff hit him with a reversal. A power struggle ensued; Avdol tried to regain his upper hand while Polnareff proved to be a slippery foe (literally, because he was so sweaty, which he thought was gross as hell). It took quite a bit of effort, but Pol managed to hold down Avdol long enough to handcuff him to the bed. "There," Polnareff straddled Avdol, admiring his handiwork, "Now you can't grope me." The fortune teller was tressed up nicely, and Pol couldn't help but run a hand appreciatively over his abs.

Av arched an eyebrow at him, "Really, Jean? That was the only reason you handcuffed me to our bed? So I couldn't appreciate your chest?"

"Momos méchants et méchants sont menottés sur le lit pour expier ses péchés."

"Tu es stupide comme l'enfer."

Polnareff threw his head back and guffawed, "You choose to insult me, but you forget who's in control here." He punctuated that with a grind against Avdol's erection.

"Can I ask what-- your intent here is?" Avdol said, voice hitching as Polnareff continued his ministrations.

"Pour tester votre résolution," Polnareff dragged his tongue across his upper lip, "Let's see how long you last before you give in."

Both knew that the other had big needs. Both knew that they went through handcuffs like a person goes through underwear, since they're always too flimsy to withstand desperate, needy tugs. And both were very aware of how much Avdol loved Polnareff's big ol' honking tits and sweet ass (Pol's words; Avdol was horrified to hear them be referred to that way).

The slow, deliberate grinding against Avdol's dick was a special kind of sacchrine torture. Polnareff delighted in the low groans that his hip swaying elicted from his boyfriend. Ever the showman, he threw his head back, moaning as he cupped his pecs, rubbing his nipples between his thumb and forefinger. That earned him a harsh growl and Avdol thrusting up into him.

With a shit-eating grin, Polnareff cooed, "À quel point voulez-vous me baiser?"

"Si mal fichu," Avdol answered through gritted teeth, sweat pouring down his scarred face.

There was an obvious tent in the front of Polnareff's underwear, but it was nothing compared to the twitching cock he was grinding his ass against. He sucked on his teeth, damn if he didn't want that in him right now.

Either they had been like this for too long, or Avdol had been pent-up all day; Avdol grunted out, "Fuck this," and broke the handcuffs in one sharp tug. At first, Polnareff was a little shocked that Av had said the fuck word, but he didn't have time to think about that, as Avdol had thrown him onto his back and shoved his tongue down his throat. Not that he was complaining. Nothing was a bigger turn-on for him than riling up his boyfriend so much that he couldn't help himself.

Pol broke off from their sloppy, bruising kisses, "Lube."

Avdol reached back into their nightstand, grabbing the bottle as Pol ripped his own underwear off, cock springing free. Back between Polnareff's knees, Av coated his fingers and got to work. Preparation was quick; Pol was half-afraid that he would be giving a taste of his own medicine, considering how long he had Avdol underneath him. But there was nothing to fear, because as soon as he was ready, Avdol rolled him over onto his knees, and slid his cock into him in one slow, fluid motion.

Avdol began rutting into Polnareff like an animal. Their flesh slapped together, pairing with both men's moans to make a symphony of lewd noises. With a firm, but gentle hand, Avdol grabbed a fist full of Pol's hair, pulling him up until his back was flush with Av's chest.

A mouth pressed up against Pol's ear. "Je vais vous toucher où je veux, quand je veux," Avdol's voice was harsh and full of need. His hands found Polnareff's pecs, kneading them with strong hands. He made sure to pay special attention to his nipples; pulls and twisting, just the way Polnareff liked it. The Frenchman whined, arching his back up into the hands that groped him. Avdol had not slowed down his pace; he was flame incarnate and Polnareff felt his fire burn him from the inside out. It was heat that he wanted, needed more than anything else. The fire that was stoked inside him was reaching fever pitch.

Pol knew neither of them could last much longer. "Mo," he gasped, "Mo, I'm so close--"

Avdol tsked, "Prie pour elle."

"S'il vous plaît laissez-moi cum, me remplir," Polnareff whined again, his voice raising a few octaves as he felt Avdol's hand wrap around his cock, jerking it roughly. He didn't take long to finish, crying out Avdol's name as he spilled cum all over his closed fist. It would have embarrassed him, if Avdol hadn't pushed him down on his belly, rutting into him in a frenzy before choking out "Jean!" as he filled him up with one, two, three hard thrusts.

After Avdol finished riding out his orgasm, he slowly pulled out of Polnareff, as if he was was savoring how his boyfriend's ass felt. Polnareff was close to passing out again, dimly aware of Av moving him so he could be under a sheet and comfortable, and barely registered the mumbly 'I love you's' they exchanged before falling to sleep.

Polnareff woke up hours later to Iggy farting directly into his yawning mouth. Iggy jumped off the bed before Polnareff could grab him, cursing in French as he watched Iggy look back at him with a horrible smug grin on his dumb doggy face. The audacity. The setting sun still provided the room some light, Pol didn't have to blindly grope for the bottle of water sitting on the nightstand to wash out the taste of dog farts from his mouth. Somehow, Avdol had managed to sleep through his cussing. Small favors.

He made to get up, but found himself firmly glued to the bed and Av, who was still sleeping peacefully beside him. As much as Pol wanted to stay and enjoy the relaxed face of the love of his life, he was also disgusting and actually stuck. Extracting himself was proving to be excruciating, some body hair was being left behind with each pull. Finally, he got fed up and jerked everything away like a bandaid, shrieking in the process. His actions jolted Avdol awake, who in his panic, bonked heads with Pol. Both start groaning in pain, rolling around on their shared bed, clutching their heads. After a few moments of pained silence, Avdol started laughing.

"What's so damn funny," Polnareff scowled, rubbing the spot on his head where him and Avdol collided.

"Nothing," Avdol chuckled, pressing a finger to what was a growing bump on his forehead, "Just realizing how much I adore you, Jean Pierre, and how there's no one else I'd rather be a klutz with."

The expression on Polnareff's face softened, "Je t'aime, Mohammed."

"Je t'aime aussi, Jean Pierre," Avdol kissed his forehead. He stood up, stretching his arms, "Come on, let's go shower before we get dinner."

"We are NOT going out, I'm still cooked from earlier."

Avdol snorted, "We'll just order pizza. Now let's go shower, we're both disgusting."

Polnareff shuffled into the bathroom after his boyfriend. He knew this shower would inevitably lead to Round 2, but hey, at least this time, he wouldn't be so damn sweaty.

[pile0balloons]

“Wait for me...”

[ @two-sided-scientist ]

Wait? He’d waited for so long... how could he wait any longer? He couldn’t do that again... 

Wes wasn’t handling this very well... He couldn’t stop crying, his hands clutching desperately at the body even after it had gone lax. His eyes were burning and his hands were covered in blood, but he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop silently praying that this was another nightmare. It had been so real but so unbelievable... he didn’t know what to believe anymore..

‘It’ll be fine’? No. It wouldn’t be fine. It wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine... His clothes were splattered with blood from himself and another, his hand still bleeding out of the hole he’d been given in his palm, as well as his cheek still dripping the crimson liquid down to mix with his tears. His arms were trembling hard, his entire back crawling with the feeling of the dark closing in on him. His arms... held in his arms, pressed against his chest and resting between his legs... was a body...

Wilson’s body.

The man was disheveled, hair a mess and clothes stained. Around his ankle was a bit of frazzled rope... On his chest... an open wound... It had been flowing blood heavily only a few moments ago, but it had lessoned now...  He could still feel it soaking against his hand, which was still desperately pressed against the gaping hole. A deadly wound... and it was his fault.

He’d stabbed Wilson... His friend... Wes had stabbed his only friend... Had stared into his eyes, held him in place... and stabbed him... He’d killed him... Wes had killed Wilson.

Dieu, je suis un fou qui est tombé pour un tel truc méchant. C'est l'enfer que je mérite, mais il n'a jamais fait ... Il mérite beaucoup plus ... Dans mon propre désespoir, j'ai blessé le seul qui a montré ma bonté. Punissez-moi, mais Dieu a pitié de lui.

The torch beside them was dimming, the shadows gently scratching across Wes’ hunched back. It didn’t matter, he didn’t care. Even when some of Wilson’s dying words had been warning him of it, Wes could care less about that damned torch. He hoped that awful night monster would take him. At least then he wouldn’t have to be sitting here holding his dead friend... Sitting here knowing it was all his fault... His fault Wilson was dead...

But was it? Yes, it was but.... But it was also that... that monster’s fault... But had he even been real? Psycho... Was he real? Or had Wes’ insane mind just imagined him... He’d seemed so real... Wes had the wounds to prove it.. But what if....no... no this didn’t matter... Nothing mattered... Except what Wilson wanted...

And Wilson wanted him to wait... Was sitting here holding his dead body crying waiting? Cause right now that was all he could do... Even as the dark pricked at his heels, hissing violently into his ear. He was shivering, but it wasn’t from the cold or the shadow...

Right as the feeling of clawed fingers trailed along the back of his head, causing a broken gasp to escape him, the sun crested just over the horizon. Rays of light pierced through the dark, laying across the broken scene. Wes could tell the change even with his eyes closed... He didn’t want to see it in the light... see the consciences of his mistakes... But he can’t keep denying it... Can’t keep running. Hadn’t he decided he was going to stop running?

The sun is reaching the midpoint in the sky by the time Wes moves. Wilson’s body has stiffened a bit, but Wes is able to lay him across the ground moderately easy still. He’s smiling... How could Wilson smile? Knowing he’d died at the hands of his friend... Wes could see his tears drip gently against his closed eyes. With a shuttering breath, Wes leaned over the man’s body. He brushed his lips against each eyelid, then moving to each cheek, and finally a chaste kiss against Wilson’s lips. He presses their foreheads together, letting out a few shaking breaths against his face.

Belle paix, mon ami.

Something sparkling caught his eye as he pulled away. The sun was reflecting off something on the ground just to the side of Wilson’s body. Wes squinted, reaching... The razor... He’d dropped it when... Wes reached for it without thinking, carefully picking up the razor and bringing it up to hold in front of his face. A weapon... but it was Wilson’s... He’d want it when he came back... Wes closed the little blade, sliding it into his pocket.

The sun was lowering. Had he really spent all day sobbing over this? Wilson deserved mourning... he deserved years worth of morning... but Wes didn’t think he’d enjoy that. Wilson wanted him to wait, but... he doubted Wilson wanted him to do this... What’s that thing Psycho had said? Wilson had burned everything down... Was that his funeral? To burn it all... Wes would give him the same, then.

By the time he’d gathered enough supplies for another torch, the sun was about to set. He struck it just as the moon peeked over the trees. Wes stood beside Wilson’s body, gazing over the strangely peaceful scene. His eyes closed, hands folded over the wound in his chest, and a gentle smile across his lips. Even in death, Wilson was lovely... And he was worth waiting for. Despite how awful it had been... Wes would do it a thousand times over for Wilson. He’d do anything for Wilson... Dead or alive, Wilson had him... Nightmare... or not... He’d be here... For Wilson.

Wes made a few hand motions, signing out his last goodbye, before finally tossing the torch onto Wilson’s body. The flames easily jumped to his clothing, spreading across the clothe and soon reaching the grass under him. It didn’t take long for the fire to reach high into the air. The lights played across Wes’ form, shining off the tears that were still stuck against his cheeks. His gaze was solum, gazing through the fire and off into the sky at the moon. It was a cold night, but Wes thought maybe it was the last one... Tomorrow would be a new day... A new day without Wilson, but he’d find him again...

No matter how long it takes, he’d be with Wilson again. He’d wait forever...

‘Come back to me, please.’

[ God I am a fool who fell for such a nasty trick. This is the Hell I deserve but he never did... He deserves so much more... In my own desperation I hurt the only one who has shown my kindness. Punish me but God have mercy on him. ]

[quatschmachen]

375.1

Part one of the Etienne birthday arc. No doubt by posting this so early the weather will be a blizzard but yolo it’s done and I’m impatient lets get the party started.

XXXXX

Vernon was on duty. It was unofficial, one done out of loyalty to his friend who dropped a hint that he was concerned about what might occur at this party. Vernon informally mentioned over some acidic Calgarian coffee that he wouldn’t mind sharing a hotel room with Ed under the pretext of saving money.  They were both going to the same party anyways and due to the high bookings for the festivities it would help not only in price but guaranteeing a room.

He had not inquired further frankly because he had memories of last summer and Calvin going on and on about things.  Yes he liked to think of himself as a good friend, but his stomach was too busy churning under the acidic coffee to activate the switch of too much information. There was a suspicion however that something Might Happen, and that it was better if somehow Ed had someone to go with. Thankfully whatever the situation was, Ed seemed reticent to share what the thing Might Be.

Whatever the situation, here he was stuck in the airport waiting for Ed. Glancing at his watch, he moved towards the greeting gate. Surprisingly, his flight had come in before Edward’s. Hearing the announcement that the flight had arrived, he patiently waited until he saw the other man leaving the passenger zone looking around for him.

“Edward,” he called out, gaining his attention. Giving a small wave, he strode forwards.

“Hey!” Ed was carrying a simple carryon, obviously not planning on staying for long. “Do you have the information on where we’re staying?”

Vernon patted his chest pocket, “Right here. Should we catch the bus?”

“Sure.”

Scrutinizing Edward, he was not sure what to make of the other man. He had been mildly surprised when it suddenly came out he and Calvin were an official couple of sorts. Not officially announced of course, but it seemed that even after the blow up, which he had been sadly a party to the fallout, they had managed to make up and seemed stronger than ever. Which he supposed was a good thing. He was not an expert on long term romantic relationships due to generally not being interested in them. The idea of initiating some intimate relationship that entailed dramatic fluctuations of the heart with a potential negative long-term outcome seemed like a bad decision for someone as long lived as him. Plus, he had witnessed the people like him grow and change in such dramatic fashions the person one may entrust themselves to may not even exist in a form they loved in a hundred years.

However his opinion was neither here nor there when it came to other people’s personal decisions. He would be interested to see what happened in the future and he knew that somehow he would end up being party to whatever dramatic issues that would no doubt occur.

The sliding doors opened and as they stepped out into the oppressively sticky hot humid atmosphere he turned his thoughts to the situation at hand.

 Vernon had been pleasantly surprised to be invited to Étienne’s VIP birthday party. Sitting upon the vinyl bus seats, secretly glad he had worn long pants, he looked out the window. Sure they were friends, but quite honestly he had not thought he was at the status for a VIP invite. It made him re-evaluate their closeness, forcing him to come to the conclusion that they did in fact spend much time together as friends. It was not a bad realization.

Glancing over to his seat partner, he noticed that Ed was busy checking his messages. Thankful that the other man was not too chatty, Vernon closed his eyes and leant his forehead against the window for a small power nap.

He was gently awoken when the bus stopped and, giving Ed a grateful nod, they left the bus.

“So… the hotel should be… over… here?” He frowned at the instructions which had become a little smudged from his sweat.

“Let me see… Hotel Nelligan? Hmmm 106 Saint Paul… mm actually you are off a street. We walk thataway.” Ed pointed in the correct direction.

“Glad you know your way around town; don’t want to be lost in this heat,” Vernon said.

“Well, I do have my uses.”

“Oh, so Calvin keeps you for his company, does he?” Vernon mildly asked.

Giving him a quizzical look, Ed was not sure how to take the comment until Vernon cracked and gave him a small smile to indicate he was joking.

As they walked through the city there was an air of expectation; even with the dreadful heatwave occurring, people still managed to have some pep in their step.

The historic buildings seemed to ooze with a smug knowledge that their survival was going to be celebrated, and as they reached the front of their hotel it was obvious that people were coming from all corners of the earth to party. People bustled upon the streets, closed down from traffic to be filled with street vendors their voices loud with excitement.

Entering the hotel, the air conditioning felt like a soft pleasant kiss, and walking up to the front desk the service was impeccable. It seemed as if everyone in the city was on their best behaviour for the upcoming event.

Seeing as they were only on the second floor, they took the stairs.  Due to the high volume of bookings occurring, they ended up in the King Atrium room with only one bed. It was large enough for the two of them, but Vernon would have preferred a bed to himself.

Setting his luggage down just inside the door of their shared room, he went to check the bounciness of the bed, nodding in approval at the soft white sheets.

He looked over to Ed, who had come out of the bathroom freshened up. He was buttoning his shirt sleeves, his dress shirt neatly tucked into his jeans. “Thanks for sharing a room with me; it’s nice to save money.”

“Of course,” Vernon gave a nod, “No point in spending more than necessary.”

Looking at the bed, Ed quirked his eyebrow; he seemed to pick up upon Vernon’s reticence. “Promise not to molest you in the night; if you’re worried, I can pass out in the bathtub?”

“You planning to drink that much?”

“Maybe not tonight, need to keep myself aware for the big day tomorrow,” Ed responded.

“I had no worry about you being inappropriate.” Vernon responded, deadpan, “I was just worried about how long you take in the shower in the morning.”

“Oh that reminds me, do you know who else will be in our VIP section?”

“I believe, from the itinerary, it would be Ludovico Torelli and Samantha Jones.”

“Wow… how the hell did he get the king of Milan to visit him?”

Vernon adjusted his glasses, “This is Étienne we are talking about.”

“I suppose. It must be nice for you to see Sam again.”

“It depends what you mean ‘again’; we were just together for coffee last week.” Vernon replied, “She is my neighbour after all.”

“I guess so. Are there any plans for tonight?”

“I am meeting up with Sam at the Méchant for drinks and food, you are free to join us.”

“That sounds good. I would like to see her before the crazy day tomorrow, some time to catch up.”

XXXXX

The Méchant Boeuf Bar-Brasserie was not too busy due to it being relatively early in the evening when they arrived. Sam was easy to spot, her strawberry blond hair in a short bob, wearing a bright pink summer dress and silver strappy sandals. On her right wrist was a large bracelet; she was busy texting someone, ignoring the man sitting across from her.

It was rather amazing that she was ignoring the well-coiffed man across from her since many of the bar’s patrons kept glancing over at him with keen interest. The man was wearing a button-up white shirt, the top two buttons undone revealing a milky white collar bone. Sunglasses hung from the front pocket in an indolent manner that seemed to scream class. Most likely those sunglasses cost more than Samantha’s phone, and it showed. His black hair with streaks of grey slicked back with a few strands falling into his eyes and his austere gaze as he looked around the bar with interest only heightened his foreignness.

The only other person who seemed unaffected by this man was Vernon, who sat on the chair beside Samantha and turned his rapt attention to her, briefly giving the man a nod.

Awkwardly Ed sat on the bench attached to the rustic brick wall beside the man.

“B-Bonjourno,” he stuttered awkwardly which resulted in the man looking at him in amusement.

“Good evening,” he responded in elegant English, “Your attempt at Italian, while valiant, indicates you are not fluent?”

“N-no.” Ed flushed feeling like an idiot, what the hell was he doing here with these people? Ugh and he was making a fool of himself in front of Ludovico, someone who was infinitely older than him and no doubt ten thousand times more interesting and worldly and he was just some friggin’ country bumpkin.  He cleared his throat attempting to feel less like an idiot. “Just enough to get by.”

“Delightful. I am Ludovico… and you are?”

“I am Edward Murphy,” like an idiot he automatically stuck his hand out as if in a proper business context, which Ludovico graciously took.

“It is nice to finally meet you I have heard so much about you.”

“Only good things, I hope?”

“Oh and some bad of course, no city is without tarnish,” came the smooth reply as the handshake seemed to linger, Ludovico not exactly in a rush to let go of Ed’s hand. Gently Ed removed his hand, not sure what to say. “So how do you know the birthday boy? Other than… shared country.”

How exactly was he supposed to explain his… friendship with Étienne?

“Common interests brought us together, we once had a zine together-”

Ed found himself easily falling into conversation with Ludovico, only looking up when the waiter came and asked what drinks they would like.

As they were putting in their drink requests, a rather frazzled voice interrupted them and Ed was horrified to see Étienne appearing.

“Sorry I’m late; there was so much to do,” came the apology, Étienne did in fact look as if he had just run a marathon, and his purple t-shirt was sticking to him with sweat. He turned to the waiter and placed his order, “Oh and I will have the house red,” and as if to make things worse he sat on the seat closest to him. Due to the arrangement of the table, there were only two chairs, both occupied, and the bench.

This meant that Étienne’s only option was the bench, and seeing that Ed was closest to the door, it meant to the internal death cries of Ed that Étienne slid right beside him, causing the awkward shuffle so that he could get some table access.

His black jean-encased thigh was warm against Ed’s, and there was a whiff of spices as if Étienne had run through some bazaar.

Attempting to ignore his suddenly thumping heart, Ed gave a greeting before thankfully turning back to Ludovico, who seemed intent on continuing their conversation.

“You see you are lucky not to have to build heavy defences…”

Raptly Ed listened to Ludovico’s story attempting to ignore the man right beside him having an interesting conversation with Samantha about coffee culture – with Vernon vociferously interjecting. The interjection threw Ludovico off track as he turned to the larger conversation.

“Are you saying that you know how to make an espresso? I went to your Starbucks, Samantha, and… they added… espresso as,” here his nose seemed to wrinkle up in disgust, “shots to other drinks. That is not how one enjoys espresso!”

“Just because you are afraid of innovating coffee does not mean the rest of us are,” she snapped back.

Their drinks arrived during the Great Coffee Feud, which Ed sort of participated in, but he mostly remained silent.

Ordering the food helped distract from whether or not the evolution of coffee was good or bad, or if adding sugar absolutely ruined the essence of the bean.

Ed was managing to spend the evening engaging in the conversation but keeping his interactions to Étienne as minimal as possible, worrying that if he was to have a conversation in near quarters he would not stay firm to his mental commitment of being Good. To be honest he was embarrassed that even after all this time, and having a nice relationship with Calvin, the simple act of sitting next to Étienne was causing him to feel like some idiotic school girl.

When his food arrived, he was thankful for having something more legitimate to occupy his mouth, pretending to be absorbed into the story Samantha was telling about her train system – which of course devolved into everyone bitching about public transportation and the lack of funding. As the alcohol flowed, he felt a little less tense, enjoying himself more and in a way feeling equal to the others. Perhaps he was not such a country bumpkin as he feared. Ludovico was absolutely charming and he felt himself being captured in the other city’s aura, having a feeling that if Étienne was not sitting right beside him and if he was not dating Calvin that perhaps things could go further.

As he idly thought what type of lay Ludovico would be, Étienne’s hand dropped down from the table top and brushed against Ed’s thigh, innocently partially resting against it. Startled at the touch, Ed abruptly stood up, banging himself against the table.

“Are you alright, Edward?” Ludovico asked.

“Oh uhmm. I need to go to the bathroom, excuse me.”

Thankfully finally released from hell, momentarily, Ed passed the gracious Ludovico and fled to the bathroom hoping to get himself back into order.

“That Edward is a charming man,” Ludovico commented to Étienne, “He is rather… cute? I see why you would invite him; a younger city is always refreshing to talk to, they are not so jaded.”

Smiling at his friend, Étienne nodded, “He really is less awkward once you get to know him better.”

Leaning his elbow atop the table lazily, Ludovico smiled, “Oh I do hope that I get to know him much better while I am here, he is very intriguing. Tell me though… have you two fought?”

Nearly dropping his fork, which he had not realized he had been gripping rather firmly, Étienne tried to play it cool. “What do you mean?”

“I notice he seems to somehow be ignoring you even though you are sitting right beside him?”

“Is he? I hadn’t noticed…” setting his fork down, Étienne gave another smile, “Excuse me… I too suddenly need to use the bathroom.”

Standing up, he waded through the slowly growing crowd of people towards the bathroom, intent on finding Ed. Entering the bathroom, he came upon him washing his hands.

“Hey…” his voice caused Ed to jump.

“Étienne?”

“The one and only… are you alright?”

“W-what do you mean?”

Giving him an amused look, Étienne stepped closer, “You have been ignoring me all night? You didn’t have to come to this celebration if you can’t even stand the sight of me.”

“Oh no, it’s not that,” Ed quickly lied, “I just haven’t been feeling so good and, well, sitting amongst such high-rolling cities I just felt awkward.”

Raising an eyebrow at this, Étienne decided to let it pass, “Well, be careful with Ludovico; I think he wants to get into your pants.”

Giving a snort of laughter, Ed rolled his eyes, “You must be joking; he could have anyone in the bar and you say he wants to fuck me? Come on, Étienne, you are the birthday boy, I think the assumption is that you are the one that gets laid and not me?” Giving him a friendly punch on the shoulder, Ed cracked a smile deciding that perhaps he should stop being so awkward, especially if Étienne was going to be having stupid thoughts like that. Plus, he had reminded himself that he was not Prey Number One and that Étienne himself also had the pick of the city so to say, and he could count himself relatively safe. If there was one thing he knew about Étienne, it was he never engaged in anything that did not involve consent. “I think you need to be worried about Ludovico getting into your pants, Et. Anyways I’m heading back to the table… I will let you… do your thing.”

Rubbing his shoulder, Étienne frowned as he watched Ed leave the bathroom. He really was clueless to his own charm.

As he returned to their table, Étienne could feel his blood pressure spike as he saw Ed sharing a drink with Ludovico, literally sipping from the same cup. That goddamn Italian was smooth as fuck and Ed really seemed oblivious at the man’s intentions. When he had daydreamed who he wanted as VIP guests for his birthday bash, it never occurred to him that he and Ed would have had a giant fight, (as he was politely thinking of it), nor did it occur to him that Ludovico would take such an interest in Ed. Wasn’t his birthday supposed to be relaxing and fun?

Well if Ed was oblivious it probably meant Ludovico’s chances were null… plus, wasn’t Ed attempting to live the life of monogamy with Calvin now? Grimly sitting down, he focused back into the conversation, taking another sip of his wine and heavily eavesdropping on what Ed was saying.

“You’re right, that wine is delicious,” Ed’s words were becoming slightly slurred. “Tell me more about the wine.”

From the corner of his eye Étienne saw Ludovico take Ed’s hand and turn it palm upwards, then using the various fingers on Ed’s hand to explain the different wine regions. Was there really a need to use Ed’s hand to discuss wine? Étienne thought angrily, his stomach tightening in jealousy at memories when Ed would let him hold his hand… when those hands willingly touched his body. Deliberately Étienne shifted closer so that their thighs were touching again, thinking that at least he could enjoy that touch.

Engaging in a conversation with Vernon, who apparently wanted to whine about their crazy winter weather, usually a safe topic of conversation, Étienne watched from the corner of his eye as Ludovico bent close to Ed, his face a few millimetres away from the other man. He had watched him in action attempting to land someone in bed too many times to count, and with irritation he could see the unfocused gaze of Ed which usually indicated he too had some ideas of drunken sinning on his mind. Honestly if Ed was going to cheat on Calvin it should be with HIM not with some random stranger, came his violent thought. He was the birthday boy and he deserved the birthday booty call!

“Étienne?” Vernon’s voice cut in, “What about your blizzard?”

“Terrible,” He smiled pleasantly trying to shove down the raging jealousy that was making its rather sudden appearance. This was not on the menu and he needed to calm the fuck down. Realizing that smiling was probably the wrong facial expression, he quickly corrected himself as he took a sip of sangria, “You know… a literal snowpocalypse. Haven’t had one so bad in years.”

“Your winters are interesting,” Ludovico cut in, much to Étienne’s relief. It seemed like this topic interested him more than Ed’s hand. “My issue is with flooding mainly, all that torrential rain of 2013, it was terrible.”

Weather being a relatively safe topic, they each participated. Until Étienne managed to catch sight of the time, “Well as much as I enjoy chatting, I strongly suggest we get to bed and rest since tomorrow is going to be very full.”

The others agreed in consensus, and after paying their bills they filed out of the now very busy bar.

Entering the hotel atrium, Ludovico attempted to get Ed by himself, but was gently rebuffed by Vernon, who suddenly engaged Ed in conversation about who would use the shared bathroom first.

Étienne felt vicious happiness at the disgruntled look on the other man’s face as he departed.

“I suppose it’s time for me to head home, see you guys at ten o’clock,” Étienne piped up.

“Oh you’re not staying here?” Vernon asked, “I thought you would to avoid traffic?”

Étienne shrugged, “Eh, I would rather spend the money on food than a hotel room in my own city. I know how to deal with traffic.”

“Goodnight then,” Vernon nodded formally before turning to the stairs.

Ed, however, lingered as if caught in a vice of indecision.

Curiously, Étienne looked at him, wondering if he should say something. Maybe he shouldn’t; perhaps it was best not to hear what Ed was about to say. Deciding to walk away, he was stopped by a hand on his wrist.

“W-wait.” Ed blurted out. “Wait a moment… don’t… move.” Quickly he disappeared up the stairs leaving Étienne to awkwardly stand in the atrium. Did he just dream this scenario? Trying to look as if he was not in a state of confusion, he took his phone out to check his messages.

Ed just as abruptly reappeared, slightly out of breath, with a small package in hand. “I know it’s a little early, but I’m not sure if with all the plans of tomorrow I can give this to you. H-happy birthday Étienne, you can open it.”

Curiously he took the neatly wrapped package, and slid his finger along the dark blue wrapping paper. Inside was a blue velvet box. Popping it open, he let out a small gasp.

“This… is generous.”

“I- I hope you like them.” Edward stammered, “I thought for such a big birthday you needed something more special than some jam.”

“Jam is always welcome Edward… these are exquisite.” He lifted one of them out and inspected it. They were emerald cufflinks inset in platinum. Delicately incised upon each emerald were Étienne’s initials.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Ed said, “I’m glad you like them, anyways… I just wanted to thank you for keeping the invitation open. I know what with… everything that’s happened between us, it’s just, I really… appreciate that we can still be…” as he paused he bit his lower lip, his face getting redder the more he spoke, the words tumbling out in small stutters, “friends. W-what I mean to say,” Ed looked at the ground apparently unable to focus upon Étienne’s face, “is that you still mean a lot to me, and I know I fucked everything up, by being an idiot, and I am trying hard to just you know get things back to simple friendship, like before… So thank you for giving me this chance. I will do my best not to be so awkward tomorrow. A-anyways I should get to bed now.”

There was something apparently blocking Étienne’s throat stopping any words from flowing out, and he could only manage a nod, knowing that if he tried to talk he would embarrass himself by the mixed vortex of feelings holding him.

Giving another awkward glance, Ed waved before fleeing back up the stairs, leaving Étienne once more to stand there alone in the atrium. Around him some latecomers had just entered, their voices hushed, drunken whispers echoing against the brick as they attempted to be more considerate of the other people of the hotel. The high heels of one of the women clicked against the brown tiles, her giggle carrying across to where he stood.

Trying to get his emotions under control, he idly looked at the woman, her lipstick smeared, her lips thick as if she had been kissing someone hard, and he noticed that the man beside her had the tell-tale lipstick marks upon his pleasantly drunk face. From how he held her around the waist, their drunk gait in surprising harmony, it was obvious that they were lovers. He watched as the lady stumbled upon the satiny round black steps towards the elevators, the man managing to catch her. He witnessed the tender look he gave the back of her head, before he managed to send out a loving tease, which resulted in him getting swatted.

It was as if he could not tear his eyes away, only able to move once more as they passed out of sight.

Almost as if in a dream, Étienne drifted out of the hotel, passing the now empty street stalls, as the sky rumbled ominously above him. He was halfway home when suddenly the humidity broke as the rains pelted down, soaking him through.

[addictionrecoveryassistance]

Detox Centers In Pine City New York 14871

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