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cantchoosejust1 · 1 year

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Cardinal Sins - A Different Route

[I’ve decided to actually bite the bullet and write my own smut, Iord knows I’ve driven @gimmethosedaddymilkers mad from all my horny prompts LMAOO - this is a continuation of “Cardinal Sins and Other Desires” except the reader gets to dom Arthur (at first) hehehehehe - while I know the reader is wearing a nun outfit, I will be making them gender neutral, I didn’t use Y/N or any pronouns - sorry if the body description feels awkward, it’s been a while since I’ve written and I only know the perspective of AFAB!reader, so bear with me! I’m not good at adding tags or warnings either, feel free to let me know what I missed - have fun!!]

taglist stolen from the original post lmao: @mrsarthurmorgan7 @kieropal @photo1030 @pcotarelo @6kaja9

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: sex, priest kink, bondage by rosary, edging-ish, descriptions of demons, this shit is freak nasty in my opinion so just be cautious

This fic is 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You roll your eyes but your hand finds its way to his thighs, patting along the robe in an attempt to find said matches

Of course he has matches on him, he can’t go more than an hour or two without a smoke.

“Mhmm…careful, you’re gonna hit somethin’ else while you’re down there.”

“Why the hell are you so horny right now, I’m not even wearing anything revealing-”

“Maybe I’ve been possessed, need some holy water…”

“Arthur please, can we find the money?”

“I’m sure we can, but I’m sure I’d be a lot more focused after…”

“Alright, thats it-” you growled. Twisting the rosary in your hand, you harshly place it around Arthur’s wrists and grip them together, startling him. With quick steps and momentum, you push his body backwards until his back hits a wall. Arthur grunts upon impact, a random object clattering to the ground.

As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you try to focus on Arthur’s face and mutter, “Keep it in your pants Father, or I’ll have to discipline you later.”

You huff in frustration, the heat blowing across Arthur’s face. Wanting to play along with his silly game, you brought your lips to the exposed skin of his neck. Where you going to admit this was a secret fantasy of yours too? Hell no. Wetting your tongue, you lick beneath his jaw and finish off by flicking his ear lobe once. You laughed inwardly at the idea of Arthur’s so called “demon” having been transferred to your body. The hairs of his sideburns tickled your cheek as you placed your lips tentatively close to his ear.

“Then again, maybe I should exorcise that demon out of you before it corrupts your poor soul. Would you like that, Father Morgan?”

Your vision was able to focus in the darkness, giving you the chance to semi-clearly see Arthur’s face. His eyes wide open, his lips quivering and taking quick shaky breaths, his body shivers harshly as he peers into your lust filled glare. After a few seconds, you press his hands onto his chest near his heart, which is beating wildly. He whimpers as the rosary starts to cut into his skin, but he ignores it as he’s only able to focus on the feeling of your knee pushed between his legs.

As he’s distracted and unable - or rather not daring - to move, your free hand wanders down, exploring his body.

Arthur knew better to not act this way, especially in a church. But in this moment he didn’t give a damn, not with the way your hand quickly brushed against his hip and thigh “searching” for his matches. And he knew this was exciting you too with the way you purposely brush against his clothed heat, eliciting a high pitched sigh from his throat.

You glanced up, your eyes hooded, pupils dilating, watching Arthur slowly unravel. He looks at you with hazy eyes, taking deep breaths. Squeezing his right thigh once, you slowly drag the back of your fingers upwards, deliberately placing more pressure on his erection. Arthur couldn’t stop the moan from escaping his lips, his voice reverberating against the walls.

The basement door opens. “Hello?”

In a second, you shot up and placed your hand over Arthur’s mouth, trying not to slap him by accident. You hold your body against his and look into his eyes to communicate a silent warning.

“If anybody is down there, the church is closed!” the voice yells, taking a second to listen for any noises. The person hummed in confusion, “Must’ve been my imagination then.”

The door slams shut and footsteps recede, but you wait a few more seconds to be absolutely sure the person has left. Huffing, you back away from Arthur to give yourselves some breathing room, the stress of almost getting caught making your heart thrum with worry and excitement.

Arthur takes his time to control his panting, goosebumps fluttering across his body at the chill from losing your heat. His head perks up at the sound of you shaking his matches. You smirk, “Found them.”

The mission didn’t take long after that steamy ordeal. The object that conveniently fell on the floor was a lantern, which you gladly used Arthur’s matches to light. As he gained his composure back, Arthur removed the rosary from his wrists - seeing in the dim light some welts forming on his delicate skin - untangling it and placing it in his pocket.

Wasting no more time, you were both able to locate the money and figured out a plan of escape that didn’t involve going back up the stairs, assuming the person locked it behind them. By then, it had gone dark, the sun hidden away to allow the moon to shine its lovely light and the stars to shimmer against the dark sky. The sounds of your running footsteps hitting the stone road were covered by the noise of a nearby rowdy bar and its even rowdier patrons. You and Arthur were able to reach your horses without worry, bags of money hidden beneath clothes and stuffed quickly into empty saddle bags; whatever money didn’t fit was placed into a separate bag that you carried on hand, making sure to check for any rips or tears as not to risk losing any money and potentially upsetting Dutch.

Arthur took the lead on the way back to camp, avoiding any main roads, trying to get out as fast as possible. When he figured y’all were a few decent miles away did he spur his horse forward, startling you into an unexpected race. You began laughing at the thrill of it all, Arthur joining in with a big belly laugh. As you began nearing camp, Arthur slowed down his horse to a trot, allowing the chance to catch a quick breath.

“I can’t believe we managed to do that,” he said, his smile reaching his ears, hair whipped from the wind, twisting every which way (like he even cared).

You snorted, “I told you, confidence is important when it comes to missions like these.” You gave a mad huff and smacked his left thigh, making Arthur yelp in pain and surprise. “We could’ve been done sooner if you didn’t get riled up! My skin ain’t showing and yet you’re over here acting like a bitch in heat.”

“Oh come on, darlin’, could you really blame me?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll admit it was bad timing. I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing your right hand to place a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “I’m sorry… that you look so fine in that get up-”

You yanked your hand away, yelling, “Arthur Morgan!!”

He laughed once more, urging his horse to pick up more speed as he neared the path heading into camp. He could hear the crackle of the fire and smell the burning wood, the sound of a bottle being opened spurred him to go a tad bit faster. Nearing the stables, Arthur swiftly greeted Charles and jumped off his horse to head over to the crate holding said bottles. Grabbing one by the neck, he made his way over to an empty table and popped the bottle open. He found himself feeling so thirsty, but the idea of water didn’t appeal to him; rather the sensation of his nostrils burning, tasting the bitter alcohol coat his tongue as it ran down his throat.

Before meeting you, alcohol was a comforting friend to Arthur, one he could always lean on for any kind of situation, bad or good. Eventually, having now formed a strong bond with you, he began to drink more socially. Except for the times he goes back to his old friend to help him forget, like he’s doing now. He ignored the sounds of everyone around him, letting himself focus on the golden liquid, trying to push the mission’s events to the back of his mind. But the feeling of your hands on his body haven’t left, making him hungry, just not for food.

As he went to take another gulp, Dutch patted him on the back and stole the bottle from Arthur’s hand.

“Easy there, son, don’t go celebrating just yet.” Arthur almost grabbed the bottle back, but Dutch took it farther from reach, waiting for a response, to know if his wondrous plan had blessed him with riches.

Arthur growled, abruptly standing to go around Dutch, back toward the stables. His shaking hands struggled to grab the bags filled with money, his annoyance puffing out in smoke through his nostrils. You came up next to him and helped to remove the bag, giving Arthur the chance to turn back around and forcefully slam the money on the table. Dutch stared in awe as some bills spilled out, a few coins rolling out before settling on the table. He almost started yelling in excitement before he saw your form coming toward him with the other bags of money, letting out a grunt as they slipped off your shoulder and landed on the table with a thud.

“This better be enough to last us a while ‘cause I don’t feel like dressing up again, Dutch,” you said. Placing your hands on your lower back, you pushed your spine forward until you heard a crack, letting out a satisfied sigh.

“This- hehe..” - he grabbed a couple wads of cash - “is more than enough. Thank you, both of you! HAHA, can you believe it, Hosea?!”

Dutch ran off to find said man, leaving you to take a seat beside Arthur, who has long since finished his liquor and just stared at the money, absentmindedly.

“Hey,” you whispered. Arthur glanced up.

“You’re not still thinking about earlier, are you?” Cocking an eyebrow, you failed at suppressing a smile from forming, the corner of your lip curling at the thought of seeing Arthur look upon you as if you were his god, so defenseless beneath your touch.

Arthur felt his cheeks begin to burn, he clenched his teeth and turned his head away from you to stare at the ground. He made no effort in trying to respond, the feelings from earlier starting to creep into his nerves, his cock twitching at the memory of feeling your hand pressed against it. You watched his shoulders shudder and took that as a ‘yes.’ You stood from the table, placing your middle finger on Arthur’s right shoulder and dragged your nail slowly to the left, watching as his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck straightened out.

Leaning down to Arthur’s left ear, continuing to whisper, “My offer still stands, Father Morgan. I’d love nothing more than to fuck that demon out of your poor, aching body.”

You lick the shell of his ear, scratching his shoulder before removing yourself and walking off to your tent, once again leaving Arthur cold. And horny.

Arthur knew better than to keep drinking, if he was going to experience this pleasure with you, he wanted to do it (relatively) sober. He’s already drunk with lust, maybe even love, but that’s a topic he’d rather discuss with his head and not the raging boner crowding his already tight pants.

Luckily, everybody in camp was too focused on the win, already thanking and congratulating Arthur on the glorious bounty. They all celebrated by drinking and dancing around the formed bonfire, their throats sore with the amount of alcohol being consumed and their loud singing. Javier wasted no time in strumming his already tuned guitar and led them all into a song about love and riches, making sure to wink at Arthur specifically as he sang the verse about love.

Knowing Javier saw their interaction, Arthur looked away in embarrassment, dreading the idea of hearing Javier’s constant teasing. About how Arthur is wrapped around your finger, a tough cowboy now whipped by someone who outwardly looked weaker than him. But that’s what Arthur loved about you; behind your seemingly quiet demeanor was a smart, quick witted, stubborn yet loyal person Arthur was proud to call "his." He knew you both loved each other equally, yet he couldn’t bring himself to the idea of being this vulnerable with you!

…But like hell was he gonna lose this chance. He regrets a lot of things in his life, and this interaction will not be one of them. Having waited long enough to where everyone was too drunk to notice him, he slipped away from the table and made quick strides toward your tent, sending a wink back to Javier on his way over. He was lucky your tent was farthest from the bonfire because he knew this was going to get loud and messy.

Standing a few feet away from your tent, Arthur reached into his pocket and dug around to pull out your rosary. He clenched it around his right hand, stepping once… twice… inching closer to the flap of your sacred space.

“Have you come to confess your sins?” you said.

Arthur sucked in a breath, his heart accelerated when hearing your sultry voice. The idea of touching your skin sent the blood rushing from one head to another, the flaming passion igniting in his body gave him the final push to go through your tent.

Ohhh…. Shit.

There you were, sitting on your knees upon your bed, stripped free of the nun costume. The soft blue glow of the moon peeking in through the cracks of your tent being the only thing covering your bare skin. With one more shaky step forward, Arthur fell upon his knees, a priest before his god. He grasped the rosary even tighter, the cross pressing deep into his palm. Without clear direction on your part, Arthur wrapped his wrists between the beads. Clasping his hands together so tightly they turned white, he offered them to you.

“Please… forgive me, for I have sinned,” he panted, voice dropping an octave on the last word. Licking his lips and swallowing, he said, “It has been a few weeks since my last... confession.”

Placing your hands on your knees, you opened your legs a bit and leaned an inch further, watching as Arthur’s eyes bounced from your sex to your perked nipples before landing on your pouty lips. He swore the shadow behind your head was painted with the biggest devil horns imaginable.

“I know of your sins, Father Morgan,” you said. He inhaled quickly at the sound of his name, staring at you wide eyed. “And no amount of prayer will absolve you.”

Arthur hung his head low, choking back the apology he was going to say for his earlier actions in the church basement.

“However-”

“Yes?!” he said briskly. The whiplash he got from lifting his head too fast was painful, but he chose to ignore it, opting to focus on your wicked smile.

You let out a giggle, “While, I am a firm believer that actions speak more volume than words ever could--”

You lift yourself off your legs and plant both feet on the floor, sitting comfortably on the cot. Arthur stared as you spread your thighs apart to show yourself fully before him, your sex leaking with arousal. You place your dominant hand in front of you, slightly blocking the view to show him your index finger beckoning him. Without question, Arthur moved swiftly but clumsily to you, abruptly stopping when you placed your palm on his sweaty forehead.

The sigh he let out as you pet the top of his head changed to a groan as you suddenly grasp the hairs atop his crown. You push his head back to make him look at you, saying, “You get one chance to repent. Make it count, Father, or your soul will suffer until your next confession. Do I make myself clear?”

He nods diligently, his voice a whisper among his heavy breathing. “Yes!… Yes, yes, I promise.”

With his final consent, you push his head forward, moaning as he makes first contact with your sex. His mouth was wet, saliva collecting on his tongue as he licked from bottom to top, making sure to focus his movements on the spots he knows you’re most sensitive.

“Oooohh~ ffuuck, yes Arthur!” you gasp. “Good boy, good- AH!” One lick upon a special spot made you push his face closer.

He repeatedly ran his tongue over the same spot, studying your facial expressions painted in ecstasy. The way your eyes were tightly closed as you focused on the pleasure he gave you, your mouth gaping open, the air making it dry.

“SHHIIIT-- just like that! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!!” you chanted, head swung back, using the arm behind you as an anchor to prevent yourself from falling backwards.

By now, you threw your legs over Arthur’s shoulders, digging your heels on his back, feeling your toes curl and uncurl every other second. A wave of pleasure bloomed from your sex and spread across every nerve in your body, signaling the arrival of your climax. You let go of Arthur’s hair to plant it behind you for more balance, trusting him to finish his prayer. He knew you were getting closer too, hearing the way you took bigger breaths in anticipation, your nails scratching the covers. Keeping the same pace, he continued to drink your arousal like a man thirsty for water. His erection throbbed at the sounds of him devouring you; slurping, sucking, lapping and moaning like a madman.

“Ar-- thur, ’m gonna… cum” you wheezed. You tried to swallow but your mouth was painfully dry. “I’m-- ahh… really close. Please, please don’t stop!”

As the pleasure was starting to become painful, your first instinct was to close your legs, even if Arthur was still between them. Feeling your thighs closing in on Arthur’s face caused him to moan, the vibrations being the final strike in making you cum.

All at once, your body was hit with the force of a powerful orgasm. Goosebumps extend up from one arm and across your chest, making your nipples even harder, then down the other arm; starting at the base of your neck gliding to the bottom of your spine and up your tightening abdomen, and finally, coursing through your legs, making your toes unfurl. You felt your head fog up with a misty cloud of joy and desire. Your sex pulsed, your arousal like a flowing waterfall, cascading water into Arthur’s awaiting lips, him swallowing everything with utmost desperation and gratitude. Softly removing himself from you with a small pop to prevent any overstimulation. He started licking up anything that fell from his mouth, then left a few delicate kisses onto your left inner thigh, his little ‘thank you’.

Regaining your composure, you peered down at Arthur, him resting his weary head on your thigh and gazing up at you with a hint of a smile. You put your dominant hand back onto his head, petting and fixing any misplaced hairs back onto his scalp.

“Very good, Arthur.” You caressed his cheekbone with your thumb, using your other fingers to scratch against the side of his head. “For your dedication, I will reward you. But.. you’ll have to earn it.”

Pinching his chin, you force his head up. “I’m going to bring you to the peak of ecstasy three times,” - you hold up the same number of fingers - “But, you’re not allowed to release until I tell you.”

He became distressed: eyes darting between yours, eyebrows creasing, his smile turning into a frown. As much as it pained him to wait longer, if it meant he can unload inside you, he’ll be patient. Just this once.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes I do,” he answers.

You hum in approval. “Lay your ass on this bed, Big Boy.”

If there really was a god, Arthur thanked it for blessing him with your presence in his life. He was able to last until the third round, almost losing his composure on the second. His head was spinning in a heavy fog of desire, whining with every exhale, merely seconds away from tapping out. His body was beginning to tire out because of the way he tensed his muscles trying to stop himself from cumming too soon, his shoulders and biceps burning as he held his tied hands over his face.

“Look at you, my love,” you say, running your hands over his pecs, teasing his nipple between your fingertips. He let out another whine as he bit his lower lip, wondering how much longer he must endure this.

What a sight he was to behold: his arms flexing above his head, elbows pressed together to hide his expressions from your sinful stare; his face, neck, ears, and collarbone blushing a vibrant shade of red; his lips swollen from the rough way you kissed him when he got too loud; his chest rising with every inhale, his stomach pushing out with every exhale; his cock - wet with your spit and his precum - stood at your command, much to your surprise, figuring at this point he’d have gone soft, but grateful he hasn’t; his legs were extended, feet firmly planted on the cot, quivering beside your hips, his knees bumping slightly against your waist.

Starting at his ankles, you caressed your palms up the back of his calves, then slowly brought them down his thighs. He tensed upon feeling your fingers brush against his V-lines.

“You’re almost done, I promise.” Squishing the flesh of his hips, you raise your dominant hand a good distance away before delivering a harsh slap to Arthur’s ass. Both of you moan in sync, his speaks of pain, yours speaks of adoration.

“Oh, how I love to worship you like this!” Bringing your head lower, you kiss the inside of his right knee. “You are my favorite thing to walk among this Earth,” you say, proceeding to move your lips further down his leg.

Giving one final kiss to his heavy balls and another to his perineum, his body jolting with each one.

“Tell you what. Since you’ve been good thus far,” he parts his elbows to look at you clearly, “I’ll let you cum inside me now, okay?”

Arthur sighs in relief. “OH! Oh…th- thank you, oh my god--”

“Don’t thank me jus' yet, Pretty Boy.” Leaning forward, you grab the rosary and untie his wrists, bunching it together and haphazardly throw it over your shoulder to where you think your nun costume went, wishing to preserve it for future use.

He laid there in shock, not knowing what to do now that you released him. Moving his arms down from the uncomfortable position, he rolled his shoulders to relieve the ache before settling his arms at his sides. You smack the side of his right thigh, gaining his attention.

“How ‘bout it cowboy? You want me to ride you… or do you wanna take the reigns and fuck the demon out of me?” You grip his shaking knees, holding them in place to stare at his leaking cock, then bring your eyes back up to look at him.

“Tell me your desires, Father Morgan.”

Dumbfounded, he asked, “I… I get to decide?”

How cute, I left him speechless. You exhaled a laugh, caressing the top of his thighs, “Yes, my love. Ravish me with your cock, I need it. Fuck me Father Morgan, I beg of you!”

Collecting his bearings and gaining newfound energy, Arthur pounced. He startled you with how quick he shot up, his strong arms opened wide to show his impressive wingspan. In an instant, he caged you in his grasp, lips embracing in a fiery kiss. When you gasped for air, he stuck his tongue inside, wishing to push his love further into your mouth. The sounds of both your moans, cries and whimpers created a symphony, the song of worship.

He brought a hand to the back of your head, protecting it as he shifted your bodies, and you instinctively enveloped his torso between your legs. Wrapping his other arm around your waist, he lifted you with ease to place your back against the cot as cautiously as he could, kissing the middle of your collarbone before lifting himself off you. He felt like the luckiest man on this planet, an angel in the flesh! His precious angel, his soul, his world.

There you rested, arms thrown beside you, showing Arthur you were surrendering yourself to him.

Arthur kept staring at you beneath him, his hands on either side of your head, taking his time to adore every single beautiful feature on your face.

The way your lashes curtained over your eyes, the curve of your delicate nose, your luscious lips so warm and inviting, your cheeks painted with your years of life - freckles, dimples, beauty marks, oh my!

He felt your legs move along his ribs, briefly taking him out of his thoughts, seeing the way you cocked an eyebrow at him in confusion - the demon was growing impatient. And so was he. Hooking his elbows beneath your knees, he forcefully pushed your legs to your chest leaving your feet dangling in the air near his shoulders; the perfect position for him to see your warm, wet, inviting hole. Oh, he was going to ruin you.

He lifted his right hand to his mouth, sticking his ring and middle finger inside to coat them with as much spit as he could. Satisfied with the amount, he took them out and abruptly pressed them to your entrance. With a bit of resistance from the insertion, you moaned as he was able to insert his fingers with ease the rest of the way in.

“So needy,” he groaned.

“Only for you, Big Boy,” you said.

He moaned as you squeezed his fingers, “Don’t go saying that, darlin’.”

“Well why not? It’s true. You drive me wild, Father Morgan.”

“No more of that! I only wanna hear you scream my name by the end of this. I ain’t no saint, and you sure as hell ain’t one too,” he answered briskly, curling his fingers on your soft walls. You cried at the sudden wave of pleasure, driving your heels into his shoulders.

“OOH~ I will, I will, I swear! Jus'… please, Arthur, just fuck me!” you begged, heat starting to flood your face.

Swiftly removing his fingers, he prodded your entrance with his tip, running it up and down, slowly teasing you. He wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine, however, his plan backfired when he pressed too far in and the head of his cock breached inside. The feel of finally getting what he wanted made him almost collapse on top of you. He shivered and gripped the sheets tightly.

Collecting himself, he closed his eyes and continued to push himself deeper, lubricated by his own spit - he was gonna lose his mind!

When he was fully sheathed inside, you squeezed his cock once, feeling his veins prod against your walls, trying to memorize everything. He whined at the sensation, tears beginning to form beneath his closed eyelids. If there was one moment he would want to relive for the rest of his life, it would be between first meeting you and this very instant.

Arthur opened his eyes, a few tears escaped to land on your cheeks, one hitting your top lip. Maintaining eye contact with him, you stick your tongue out and licked it up, the salty flavor tickling your taste buds.

“Mmmm…” you moaned.

He snapped. He slotted his right hand against your throat, using his left to grasp the meat of your thigh. Pulling out before slamming his cock back in, his balls slapping your ass lewdly.

You whined at the harsh movement, relishing in the look on Arthur’s face as he unleashed his own demon. He held a stern gaze and an angry scowl, while you held a mischievous glint and a devious smile. Two horny hellspawns, locked in a duel to see who gets to make the other cum first.

As his hips set about a hard but steady pace, Arthur moved his fingers along the side of your neck to find your pulse. He soon made contact with it, feeling the fast beat of your heart on his fingertips, he squeezed his hand with enough force to cut your airflow. Loving the way your eyes bulged for a second, feeling you swallow hard against his palm. He enjoyed letting you control him from time to time, but he’ll never get over the feeling of your body writhing from the pleasure he gives you.

He removed his hand from your neck, moving it down to one of your nipples, pinching it and rolling it for what felt like forever to you before focusing his attention on the other one.

While he was preoccupied with you perky nipples and the filthy sounds coming out of your mouth, you dropped your sight to where your bodies connected. Hypnotized by the way he fit inside you, so perfectly connected. There was no way you would be able to walk tomorrow. With nowhere else to grab, you bring your hands to the flesh between your thighs and ass, squishing it for some sense of stability.

Arthur refocused on your face, having his view be blocked by your arms. With no other choice, he hooked the free hand beneath your other knee, keeping you in place.

“Look at me,” he growled. His voice reverberated against your ears, your sex pulsed in arousal at hearing his demanding tone.

“Fucking LOOK at me, darlin’, you know I don’t like to repeat myself.” You do as you’re told, gasping for air as you sense your climax slowly approaching.

“You close, ain’tcha? Mmm, I can feel it,” he said.

Nodding, you say, “Please, Arthur! C- cum with me…! I want us to cum together!”

“Nngh!” he grunts. “You keep… squeezing me like that, I’m gonna-- FUCK! I’ll cum soon.”

“Yes, yes! Give it to me, I wanna be dripping with your semen!!” Your moans grew higher in pitch, the muscles in your thighs tightening at the feel of your orgasm rapidly approaching.

Both of you were gasping, hearts beating as one, the smell of sex permeating the air in a dense fog of filthy love.

Wanting to savor this special moment, Arthur took his hands in yours, making sure to interlock fingers before setting them on either side of your head. He pushed his body forward, your legs pressed against his chest in a painful way, ignored by the amount of pleasure building.

The pace Arthur set combined with the forced mating press allowed you to experience his cock in the most delicious way. Free to feel every vein and ridge; his cock leaking so much precum he was able to effortlessly slip in and out without issue; overall an impressive girth, giving you a satisfying stretch.

All the love you had for him was projected into your eyes, Arthur easily recognized it because he looked at you that way every single day, even in his dreams.

“I love you,” he whispered, inches away from your face.

Happy tears began to form in your eyes, a shy smile forming. “I love you more.”

As soon as he reached down to share a kiss, your orgasms exploded simultaneously, moans harmonizing with the loud squelch between your bodies.

Arthur removed his lips from yours, tongues connected by a line of spit. Taking his hands from yours, he lifted himself up and brought your legs to rest at his hips. He watched you get comfortable before collapsing from exhaustion, making you grunt at the force of his body weight. He kissed along your left shoulder and settled his cheek against it, proceeding to lace one hand back to yours and snaking the other arm below your body, imprisoning you with his massive frame. You sighed with content, head still reeling and feeling your eyelids become heavy.

“Arthur?”

“Mmm?”

“Can you get off me?”

He lightly shook his head ‘no.’

The moonlight invaded your vision as it peered into your tent, painting the side of Arthur’s tired face, sculpting his chiseled back with cool lights and dark shadows. You watched his torso rise and fall with each deep breath, the noises of the night mixing with his huffs, the little critters chirping in the wind.

You laughed, out of breath. “Arthur?”

“...mmm?”

“I love you,” you whisper against his temple, placing a soft kiss on his heated skin, the taste of his sweat invading your lips.

“...’ove you… mo’...” he sighed. With the sound of your heart beating in his ear, the rhythm of your breathing matching his, Arthur succumbed to sleep.

Nothing but silence is heard for the next three minutes, until Arthur's soft snores fill the air. Lost in thought, you began to brush his hair with your right hand, the soft locks flowing between each finger. You tried your best to pepper as many kisses to his face as you could, but you weren't able to reach much, only his temple and forehead.

A thought crossed your mind, and you glanced at the chest placed at the foot of your bed. Inside, there was a pistol you owned long before you joined the gang, gifted to you by your great aunt before she passed away. You were the closest thing she considered a child - since either she was unable to carry or simply chose not to have any, you didn’t know - so she told you to give the pistol to the person you intended to marry, in place of a ring. At that time, you thought it silly since you believed in the magic of a ring, that soon changed when you met Arthur.

Having now been in the gang for a few years, you knew most of his past as he gave you little information at his own time. The days dragged on and you soon found yourself falling in love with the cowboy, going on missions together more often, inside jokes and food shared between each other. Until one mission separated the two of you, pulling Arthur to find a random target or whatever, you weren't given much information, which made worrying for his return even worse. A week prior to his return, Arthur had sent you a three-page letter reminiscing of your friendship, how worn out he was, and a shared moment you both had where you almost kissed at the river, having been interrupted by Uncle and his problems. At the very end he proclaimed his love for you, rereading it over and over again with tears in your eyes, the same letter tucked in the holster of the gun. The moment you spotted his figure in the distance walking beside his horse, you took off running and met him halfway, colliding with him in a hug stronger than a python. Thankfully he was unharmed - apart from you knocking the wind out of him - so you had no issues smooching his whole face, pulling apart for a second to tell him that you loved him too, and finishing with a passionate kiss to his lips, finally becoming a couple.

With each passing day since then, you wondered if there will ever be a chance to ask him! Ask him to be your spouse, your lover for the rest of your lives. As long as it was by his side, you didn't care where you'll end up. Closing your eyes, you dreamt of this new life, praying he'll say yes, hoping you'll be able to live a calm life far from the one you were living.

Unbeknownst to you, Arthur smiled against your skin, thinking about the ring he has tucked away in his own chest, dreaming of the same future.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 #arthur morgan priest #arthur morgan sub #arthur morgan dom #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfiction

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hexedwinchester · 4 months

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hieee.. do you have favourite Sam from a particular season/s?

hi anon, yes I do. I like Sam from different seasons for different reasons.

Season 5 Sam is my most favourite Sam. after realising he broke the last seal and freed Lucifer, he does everything to right his wrongs and he does it with humility. He sacrificed himself, not to death but to an eternity with Lucifer in Hell for human race that was so cruel to him. S5 Sam is a hero.

Season 7 Sam: my second least favourite season after season 12, but S7 Sam was such a strong beacon of fighting mental illness. He ran half year struggling with hellucinations (wink wink) but fought Leviathans tooth and nail. Plus his has the most gorgeous hair and sideburns in this one!

Season 15 Sam is another example of selflessness. He protected Jack and even gave up his luck to the people stuck in that bar while Dean wanted to keep it for himself.

Season 6 Soulless Sam was unethically hot. I like this Sam especially because it's so refreshing to see him not being burdened by all that family business weight. He doesn't care for once! And yet, he didn't do half the shit other soulless people have been doing on the show. Yes, people may argue he had Dean as a moral compass but remember he spent an entire year being Soulless without Dean. so yeah, he was still better even without a soul and Dean's morality

Season 1-2 Sam for being that rebellious little shit. I have loved him banter with Dean, challenge John and freaking stand up for what he believed in.

Thanks for this question anon!

#sam #sam winchester #spn #supernatural

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mortallyclearwonderland · 2 years

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Scrooge: A Christmas Carol

youtube

Positives:

That one song, I love Christmas, is great.

Animation is pretty and colorful.

The designs are great. Especially the spirits. Ghost of the past as a wax candle. Marley with coins for eyes.

Voice acting is mostly good.

Negatives:

That first ‘’humbug’‘ was terrible.

Minion like creatures are worrying me.

Too colorful and sanitary in some (many) scenes.

Marley’s ghost! Tiny Tim is freaking dying! Other girl being sick! Fires of Hell all around! Put jolly music there.

Sure Scrooge, joke around with the thing that looks like the Grim Reaper.

Slap across the face to show something is happening for real.

The thing that bothers me the most is Scrooge himself.

If you don't know. He is supposed to be and look old. Scrooge is a repulsive man both inside and outside. His old age is also supposed to highlight the message that it's never too late for redemption. There are some steaks in the story. Does he have enough time to make up for all those years? It might be his last Christmas!

This guy looks mildly annoyed. He doesn't even wear his nightgown and sleeping hat! He's seen wearing the hat but doesn't later.

Instead, he’s wearing a dressing-gown like he’s Hugh Hefner!

He doesn't look that old. He's in his 40s having a midlife crisis thinking that he's old! Graying hair, bigger sideburns, minuscule bags under his eyes, and one or two wrinkles when he scrunches up his face don't make him a grandpa.

‘’Aggregating the below sentences and illustrations, we can deduce that Ebenezer was an older white male, a bald pate with long white hair around the sides and back. He was clean shaven. He was thin and stiff in appearance and not tall. He had a pointed nose, thin lips, a narrow chin, and small dark eyes.’’

This Ebenezer is the direct opposite.

Almost bold - Luscious hair, they're graying but they're still there

Clean shaved - Sideburns

Not tall - About the same height if not taller than any other male character

Narrow chin - Square jawline

At least his nose and eyes are right.

#Scrooge: A Christmas Carol #Netflix

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irishseeeker · 3 years

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Part of me believes that Anthony and Benedict looking so alike this season is part of the plot, The Viscount & The Spare, they almost look like twins in that picture released by Netflix, it's insane

Completely-Johnny and Luke are both extremely talented actors but also-gorgeous haha. They've had a glow up for season 2, tidy new haircuts and smaller sideburns that definitely are going to reflect the state of minds and journeys their characters are going through. We know Anthony's but we don't know Bens. This is Anthony's season and society will know the most attainable Viscount on the market for a wife, so he's even more centre stage than he usually is. He'll definitely be involved with Eloise's debut as well, but ultimately, he's just the second Bridgerton brother again. I'm excited to see more of their relationship though, they have the best sibling dynamic.

This is going to put Ben behind the scenes, probably by Anthony's side a lot of the season as Anthony needs him but it's also reinforcing his stance as 'The Spare' and I think (and hope) we're going to see how that mentally affects him and show how people perceive and treat him. We'll probably see him retreat more and more into the party and art society with Henry Granville and maybe Madame Delacroix, more and more people like that-essentially Ben is running away from being the Spare when he can and putting himself further away from the Ton. I think there will also be a situation with another character who bluntly tells Benedict that's all he's ever going to be-The Spare, sort of a slap in the face with reality.

He's not going to belong in that world either, so he'll eventually say goodbye to it. His mental journey is what I hope they'll focus on.

Throughout season 2, I can see Ben just acting a bit recluse and reckless, maybe taking things too far and eventually getting so tired and mentally exhausted from all the partying and London which is the perfect arc at the end of S2 to have Anthony trying to help him and giving him My Cottage to get away from London, which is mentioned at the start of AOFAG. That's not what he really needs, though. He needs to accept himself and he someone to help him in a very particular-and that's where Sophie comes in. Season 3!

I also hope to see Benedict have a conversation with Kate about who Anthony truly is and how good he is, as I think Ben understands his brother the most and he's the only sibling Anthony didn't have to be a father to, just a brother. I really want them to focus on Ben and Anthony as well, particularly while showing Anthony's trauma and how Ben understands him and he's different to the rest of their siblings. I need Anthony's role as a father, especially to Hyacinth and Gregory, acknowledged and appreciate please!

Anthony needs someone truly on his side and I think Ben is the only on his side (I'd say Francesca too but she wasn't mentioned in TVWLM really and she's not out in society and had a very minor role in season 1, but one can hope!). I don't want it to be Daphne even though I know they said Daphne is playing a big role in Anthony's goal to find a wife but I hope they more focus on repairing their relationship.

I'm rambling haha but I am just so excited and I cannot freaking wait.

#bridgerton #bridgerton discussions #benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #eloise bridgerton #benedict x sophie #kate x anthony #kanthony #benophie #asks #anons

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the-lady-writes-what · 3 years

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MHA Minor Characters as Adults Headcanons, Part 1

Deku (Izuku Midoriya)

He’s finally able to grow some facial hair, but he sucks at shaving. Deku will be running around the city doing hero business and he’ll have bits of tissue sticking to his face because he keeps nicking himself. Minimal sideburns and most definitely has an undercut. Size? Probably not as big as All Might in his prime, but definitely big. At his tallest, he’s gonna be at least 6′0-6′2 but no shorter than 5′11. Chiseled chin after losing his baby-face in his late teens (18-19) or early 20′s. Probably drinks sake or beer, but I don’t see him as a heavy drinker. Designated driver, hands down.

Dynamight (Katsuki Bakugou)

At least 6′3″. There is no way he’d let Deku be taller than him. Rugged, chiseled chin. Sideburns and a bit of scruff on his chin, but not enough to be a beard. Jacked as a hell especially in the arms so he can carry his grenades. Fireball whiskey kind of guy. Wears smudged eyeliner for his hero costume because he’s comfortable in his masculinity and it adds a fearsome look to his face that makes villains think twice. Mellowed out since high school.

Red Riot (Eijiro Kirishima)

Jacked as all hell. Like, there is no way Eijiro does not take after his favorite hero, Crimson Riot. He’s JACKED. 6′4-6′6, at least. He is a freaking mountain. Heavy sideburns, goatee, and hair long enough to tie in a ponytail. Spends a fortune on hair dye so it all matches. Probably as a “manly” tattoo somewhere but you’ll just have to figure out where it is yourself. Drinks whiskey.

Shoto (Shoto Todoroki)

Not as muscular as the first three, but he’s still packing some heat. No facial hair, but I imagine Shoto growing out his hair past his shoulders. Takes a lot after his mom in the looks department. Best of both worlds: lean athletic body and very pretty. You can tell he’s a handsome man, strong jaw and cheekbones that could cut glass. 5′9-6′0 as an adult. Drinks sake, wine, or vodka.

Chargebolt (Denki Kaminari)

5′11. Max. Tried to grow facial hair like the first three but failed miserably. Settles by compensating with his hair, which he changes style every couple of years. Built more for speed than brute strength like Izuku, Katsuki, and Eijiro. He’s very athletic, you can see his muscles, but it’s like the difference between an Olympic sprinter and a football player, you know? Matures so much after high school and doesn’t include himself so much with Mineta’s inappropriate shenanigans, thanks to Hitoshi’s influence. Picked up smoking but he’s trying to quit. Definitely drinks beer or white claws. Sorry, I don’t make the rules. Generally the first to get shit faced because he’s not always the brightest and he’s a bit of a lightweight.

??? (Hitoshi Shinsou)

Takes after his mentor Aizawa a little too much. You think he got bigger after some training in high school? Wait until he’s an adult and he’s jacked. On a scale of 1-10, 10 being Kirishima the Mountain and 1 being Grape Boy Mineta, Hitoshi is a solid 7 out of 10. I imagine his hero costume would include tactical yet tight-fitting black shirts in the warmer months specifically so he can show off his biceps. Little scruffy just like Aizawa. He doesn’t grow his hair as long as Aizawa, but its a little long. Undercut because why not? Drink of choice? Beer, he’s a simple guy.

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when-they-write-stuff · 4 years

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Well, you're a hot mess (and I'm falling for you)

Written for this moodboard and I totally forgot to finish this, but here we are now! Thank you @fanficmakesmehappy for the permission and amazing moodboard, I had a ton of fun writing this!

Stiles was so ready for his first college party.

After surviving werewolves, hunters, literal demons, and a multitude of other supernatural creatures hellbent on killing him and his friends, a party was nothing. He was ready to get drunk under neon lights and forget about his (not so) normal life, thank you very much.

But then Derek Hale showed up.

Stiles knew he’d never escape the supernatural. He didn’t want to, not really. After four long years of running around Beacon Hills from some threat or other, he figured that was just his life now. But he also deserved a break, okay? A break from multi-colored eyes, from fangs and sideburns, from anything that had to do with Derek literal Hale.

Derek Hale, the guy Stiles had been pining after for years. Derek Hale, who he was planning on finally forgetting with lots of drinking, dancing, and whatever else started with a ‘d’ and ended with him pretending the supernatural didn’t exist.

And that was supposed to start tonight; at his first college party.

Except Derek was such a stalker.

Stiles wondered if he was hallucinating at first. Sure, he got the occasional visit from one packmate or another. Sometimes they stole his clothes, sometimes they just curled around him and refused to leave until morning. But Derek only got in contact when he needed something. Research, a status update, questions about the bestiary.

And Stiles was supposed to be forgetting him, remember? Only, he didn’t know how he was supposed to do that when Derek was standing across the room looking like literal sex on legs.

This really wasn’t fair. The man looked downright sinful underneath the neon lights and why the hell could he never wear jeans that actually fit? It was way too hot in the room for a leather jacket, but Derek was definitely wearing a v-neck underneath and Stiles might have a heart attack if he took any more layers off. In fact, he might have a heart attack anyway.

He had two options, Stiles figured, turning his back toward Derek and gripping his cup tighter. Go over there and chew the asshole out for obvious stalking, or pretend like this was a hallucination and get as drunk as possible. Because Stiles had a plan; drinking, dancing, forgetting.

And you know what? He was so sticking to the plan.

Like a godsend, that came in the form of a blond-haired guy slipping onto the stool at Stiles’s side, a smirk going up to sharp blue eyes.

“Hey, there.”

Stiles was quick to down the rest of his drink, wrinkling his nose at the taste of cheap beer. But anything to give him a bit of an edge on this conversation, right?

The guy smirked when Stiles turned toward him, offering out a hand. “I’m Chet.”

“Stiles.”

“... Stiles?”

“It’s a nickname,” Stiles said, grimacing. He got enough strange looks from his professors to know that he was going to be explaining this to everyone for the rest of his college career. That was one thing he wouldn’t miss about high school. At least there, people had learned to just not ask.

“Weird,” Chet said, looking a little more disinterested. Stiles laughed a little, glancing across the room involuntarily.

Derek was still staring at him. And now, the man was starting to look a little murderous.

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles said, wrenching his gaze away. He smiled at the other boy, nodding toward the open floor. “You dance?”

Chet studied him for a long moment, then smirked back. Stiles firmly avoided looking in Derek’s direction as the guy grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him off the stool toward the neon flashing lights, a strange pit already forming in his stomach.

It wasn’t excitement, exactly. Or… Stiles wasn’t sure. Maybe it was. Maybe it should be. He swallowed hard and let Chet pull him closer, suddenly wishing he had drunk a bit more.

Or maybe had something stronger.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” Chet said, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “You do know that, right?”

Those words were enough to snap Stiles out of his thoughts. He looked at Chet in surprise, who tilted his head, eyes traveling all the way down Stiles’s body appreciatively.

“Guy like you shouldn’t be sitting at a party alone.”

“I don’t usually do this,” Stiles said, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. Chet tilted his head and Stiles flushed bright red, internally cursing himself. “Parties, dancing. Uh—”

“Well,” Chet said, cutting him off. “I guess I get the privilege of being your first, then.”

Despite everything, despite the intoxicating closeness of guy, Stiles felt his eyes drifting across the room again. Only to realize that Derek was gone. The place he’d been was empty, as if the werewolf had never been around in the first place.

“Hey,” Chet said, catching his chin and guiding his gaze back forward. “Stiles. Eyes on me.”

Stiles nearly pulled away. Because Derek— Derek— he hadn’t imagined the man, had he? That could be typical Stiles, though, he supposed. Getting out to his first party to forget about the fluffy asshole only to imagine he was seeing him everywhere.

“You,” Chet said, kissing him on the neck. “Are so fucking—” another brush of lips— “Hot.”

Drink, dancing, and forgetting. That was the point of tonight.

“My kind of fucking hot.”

“O-okay,” Stiles said, finally tugging away. He offered the guy his best apologetic smile, although he didn’t really feel it. “I’m sorry, man, really. But not tonight.”

Chet’s smile wavered. Stiles chuckled nervously, stepping back.

“I’m just, uh, tired. I should get going.”

“Oh, come on,” Chet said, catching the front of his shirt again. He pulled Stiles close enough that Stiles could feel warm breaths against his face, making him wince. “Stiles. Nobody likes a tease.”

“Okay, dude—”

But Stiles didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before there was a pair of lips crushing against his own. He squeaked in surprise and tried to yank back but before he even could, there was a loud roar and Chet was ripped away from him.

A loud crash filled the air as the guy went tumbling sideways into the punch table.

The sound of chattered died like someone had fired a gun. Stiles froze, his heart still thudding against his chest, and then he realized it was Derek standing in front of him. Fists clenched, shoulders squared— like a guard dog or something.

Derek Hale. Real and totally here, not just a pining part of Stiles’s stupid brain.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, slowly coming back to reality. The music still played and the lights still flashed, but people were definitely staring now. And when Derek looked over his shoulder, meeting Stiles’s gaze, there was definitely a bit of red in his eyes.

Oh, god.

Stiles laughed nervously, grabbing the man by the jacket and pulling him away from the overturned drinks table. Chet looked like he was in shock, white shirt doused with beer and punch, his face as pale as a sheet.

“O-kay, Sourwolf,” Stiles said, guiding Derek toward the frat house door. His heart was still thudding against his chest and he could feel every eye staring them down. “We’re just gonna go get some fresh air now, okay?”

Stiles managed to get him to the door, but before he could pull him out, Derek pulled away and gave Chet a full-on death glare. The guy whimpered, shying even further into the floor, and Stiles could’ve sworn there was a growl in Derek’s voice when he spoke.

“You ever so much as look in his direction again, I’ll rip your throat out.”

Chet’s eyes rounded and he averted his gaze. Stiles’s heart was in his throat as he pulled Derek out the door, into the fresh night air, and all but slammed the door of the now-silent party at his back.

They barely made it to the sidewalk before Derek was grabbing Stiles by the arms and searching him up and down.

“Dude, dude, dude,” Stiles said, trying to wiggle free. “Stop it, Sourwolf, I’m fine!”

“I should have thrown him harder,” Derek growled. “Maybe out a window.”

“Woah, no,” Stiles said, raising his hands as he finally managed to pull free. “Manslaughter would definitely not be good for any of us, dude. Especially not you.”

Derek scowled, but some of the red was gone from his eyes, at least. Stiles searched him down, his brain still playing slow catch-up to everything that had just happened.

“Dude,” he said. “What the hell was that?”

“What was what.”

“What was— Derek! A simple knee to the nuts would have sufficed! You nearly wolfed out in front of everyone.”

Derek looked at him, face betraying nothing. Though, he didn’t look bothered by that fact. Stiles stared, then rubbed a hand over his face, groaning.

“Oh my god. What are you doing here anyway?”

“I was in the area.”

Stiles lowered his hand, blinking at the man. “You were in the area?”

“Yes.”

“Derek, you’re never in the freaking area! Not without a text about some stupid thing that you need me to research, anyway. What the hell was that back there? How the hell did you know where I’d be anyway?”

Derek held his gaze, then growled, tearing it away. Stiles stared in shock as the man started down the sidewalk, hands shoved into his pockets. He bit down on his tongue, cursed, and then chased after the werewolf.

“Derek, dude, stop!”

“I was nearby,” Derek said, spinning around. “And— and—”

“And what?”

“And Erica told me you were going to a party!”

Stiles blinked. Faintly, he remembered texting Erica a few outfits to get her professional opinion before he’d left his dorm, but he’d never expected the beta to report back on him. Even in the darkness, Derek’s face was bright red, and Stiles nodded carefully, trying to process that information.

“So?”

“So,” Derek said, glowering. “Clearly, it’s a good thing I was there.”

“Clearly— hey! That’s an asshole move.”

“The guy kissing you when you didn’t want it was an asshole move.”

Stiles swallowed hard, dropping his gaze. For a moment, the silence reigned, the cool air filtering around them, and Stiles shivered.

Then Derek sighed. Before Stiles could even react, the man was slipping off his jacket and wrapping it around his shoulders, easily avoiding Stiles’s surprised stare. The stare didn’t last long though, as Stiles took in the man’s freaking too tight v-neck, and dammit, that so wasn’t fair.

“Dude,” Stiles said, averting his gaze. “Really?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles just flushed, unconsciously pulling the jacket tighter around him.

“Nevermind.”

“Do you,” Derek said hesitantly. “Want to go back inside?”

Stiles looked at him in surprise again. The man didn’t look happy at all about the words that had come out of his mouth, but he just shrugged.

“I can leave, Stiles. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“Oh my god, Sourwolf,” Stiles said. “Please never apologize for threatening someone like Chet ever again.”

Derek scoffed slightly. Stiles grinned.

“Though, I thought the whole ‘rip your throat out’ thing was our thing.”

One eyebrow raised. Stiles blushed.

“Not like that. Er, you know. In like a sexy threatening Alpha werewolf kind of way.”

“Oh?”

“Shut up,” he said. “Stop smirking.”

“Okay,” Derek said, a hint of a smile still tugging at his lips. And why hadn’t Stiles seen him look like this before? “So, your first college party was a bust. But it’s usually not the only one, you know.”

Stiles blinked. “What?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“You… went to college.”

The man’s face did something strange. “Stiles, you do realize werewolves do things like that too, right?”

“Yeah, uh, yeah,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “I just…”

It was Derek. The words died on his tongue as he eyed the man, some strange emotion forming in his chest again. But this time, he thought it might actually be excitement. Or maybe nerves. Or maybe a mix of both.

“Hey, Derek,” he said carefully. “Take me out?’

The man’s eyes widened. And what had Stiles been telling himself earlier? Drinking, dancing, forgetting. But the last thing he’d expected was to see Derek Hale. All green eyes, too-tight jeans, and a v-neck that was literally the sexiest thing Stiles had somehow ever seen.

Derek Hale.

There was no way he was getting over him tonight.

“Take me somewhere,” Stiles said, heart thudding against his chest. Derek’s eyes sparked a little red.

“Okay.”

“So,” Stiles said, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. When Derek had taken him to get streetside hot dogs of all things, Stiles had thought he was joking. But then there they were, sitting in the dark, eating street meat. “Tell me about your college.”

The man glanced over, mouth full. Stiles snorted.

“Where did you go, dude? What was your major? Why have I never heard about this before?”

“I don’t like to advertise my life,” Derek said, swallowing. “But I went to NYU. And got a degree in Engineering.”

Stiles’s blinked. Derek’s ears turned a little red.

“I like fixing cars.”

Stiles huffed, grinning out at the street. It looked like there was a bar or something across from them, music coming from the open door and bright lights dancing out onto the sidewalk.

“You should start your own business or something,” he said thoughtfully. “Fixing up cars.”

Derek snorted. Stiles grinned over at him, elbowing the man.

“Shut up, I’m being serious!”

“Hm.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, sticking the last of his food in his mouth and jumping up. Derek gave him a surprised look as Stiles hauled the man to his feet and started across the street. There was a loud honk and a cab barely swerved to avoid them, making Stiles bark out in laughter.

Derek gave him a slightly terrified, slightly confused look.

Stiles just grinned brighter, stumbling through the door of the lit up the building and pulling Derek with him. And, turning around, he realized it was more of a club than a bar.

Which was even better.

“Okay,” Stiles said, eyes sweeping over the crowded dance floor. “This is so much better than a college party.”

“Stiles—”

“Oh, come on, you big lump,” Stiles said, pulling the man along again. “We’re going dancing.”

Derek made a noise of protest, but Stiles barely heard him. Tugging him into the crowd, he nearly lost the man’s hand in the throng of people twice. The lights flashed, almost blinding, the smell of alcohol hung heavy in the air, and Stiles spun around on the middle of the dance floor to see Derek looking wide-eyed and red-faced, the color going all the way to his ears.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “You ever go dancing at NYU, Sourwolf?”

“Shut up.”

“Because,” Stiles said, stepping closer. “That’s what tonight was supposed to be all about.”

“Stiles, I don’t know if—”

“It’s a necessary college experience,” Stiles said, glancing up at the werewolf. “That’s what I’ve heard anyway.”

Derek’s eyes darted from Stiles’s own, to his lips, then back up. And for a moment, Stiles was almost nervous. Because what if he’d taken tonight one step too far? Oh god, what if he was pulling a Chet?

But then the man pulled Stiles forward by the folds of his jacket and slid closer to where he was obviously welcome. And Stiles smiled brightly at that— he couldn’t help it.

If he was going to drink and dance with anyone tonight, it was going to be Derek Hale.

Only Derek Hale.

“I want you to touch me,” Stiles said, guiding the man’s hands down to his hips. Derek’s eyes flashed red and he wrapped an arm around Stiles’s waist, pulling him even closer.

Stiles exe. almost logged off, but somehow, he still managed to keep his head. Raising his chin, Stiles searched the man’s face, teeth sinking down into his lower lip.

And fuck, if Derek wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Under the ever-changing lights, his eyes were a kaleidoscope of colors. Stiles didn’t often see the Alpha let down his guard, but Derek was open and gentle with his arms wrapped around Stiles’s waist now. And Stiles didn’t know such a tight grip could be so careful when the man held him close, forehead brushing against Stiles’s own.

“Derek,” Stiles whispered, closing his eyes. The man’s breaths were soft and warm against his face. And it so, so different than earlier.

“Fuck, Stiles.”

Stiles’s heart skipped a beat and he huffed a small laugh. “Language, Sourwolf.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He glanced back up, smirking softly. The man searched his face, eyes dropping a little lower again, and before Stiles could stop himself, he was meeting Derek halfway, pressing his lips against the werewolf’s own.

He’d had a few rules going into college. Stay on track. Don’t eat curly fries for dinner every night. And try to move on from Derek Hale.

This was so far from trying but Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to even care.

Because dammit, Derek had been what Stiles had missed the most. Derek had been the one Stiles had always hoped to see when there was a knock on his door. It was Derek, it had always been Derek. And maybe, maybe that was just how it was supposed to be.

Derek kissed him soft, open, and warm. Fingers brushed over the skin above the waistband of Stiles’s jeans, looping through the belt loops and pulling him even closer. And hell, this was better than the stuff of Stiles’s best fantasies. Teenage daydreams when he’d been sixteen and slowly coming to reality with his sexuality.

“Goddammit,” Stiles murmured against his lips. “Fuck, Derek.”

“Language.”

Stiles laughed and kissed him harder, stubble rubbing against his cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead. It was so freaking hot in the club and Derek’s jacket wasn’t helping— except for it, for everything around him smelled like Derek.

Leather, pine, and aftershave.

Faintly, Stiles realized loved that smell. He loved the fit of Derek pressed up against him. The way the man felt kissing him.

Faintly, he realized he just might be in love with Derek Hale.

Stiles didn’t know what kind of song was playing when they drew apart, heart thudding against his chest. Glancing up, he was almost pleased to see the red in Derek’s eyes, the hunger on his face. Stiles grinned, tilting his head.

“So, Sourwolf. Maybe it is a good thing you showed up after all.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles laughed.

“And maybe, I might just need you to attend other parties at my side in the future. You know, because no one would ever cross a werewolf and what belongs to him.”

The man’s eyes sparked even brighter. Flashes of pure red in the neon lights. Stiles leaned forward and brushed his lips against the man’s again, just barely not making full contact.

“So, Alpha? What do ya say?”

Derek’s grip tightened, and all assumptions of ‘careful’ from earlier went down the drain. Stiles could help the way his heart leaped into his throat as Derek growled, nipping sharply at his lower lip. “Mine.”

“Yeah?”

Derek kissed him again, hard and hungry. Stiles closed his eyes again, drinking in the taste of the man, the feeling of the hands tight around his waist. And yeah, he could be that, he thought. Down the drain with with ‘careful’, down the drain with drinking, forgetting.

Down the drain with almost all things except for a few beginning with the letter ‘d’.

He thought Derek Hale might be a good start.

I had a slight idea where I wanted this to go and then it didn't go there at all XD But I'm alright with how it turned out!

(if you enjoy my writing, consider sending a coffee? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

#sterek #teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanficmakesmehappy #sterek au #teen wolf au #fluff #humor #derek hale x stiles stilinski #derek x stiles #stiles x derek #sterek moodboard #prompts #ficlet

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rughydrangea · 3 years

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Okay, so, I have now watched the first season of Black Sails and I feel like recording some thoughts. Here we go:

This is one of those shows that I feel like I’ve already watched, thanks to tumblr osmosis. But I have been wanting to properly check it out for a while. What took me so long? Honestly, the subject matter. As a person who is very afraid of a) authority, particularly the kind that kills people, and b) deep water, a show about pirates was hard to sell myself on. But once I actually took the plunge, as it were...

...I actually liked it! I’m not sure I’m ready to join the loyal army (navy?) of fans, but I found it really watchable. The whole environment of Nassau is well fleshed-out, the soundtrack is very fun, and I was surprised by how many characters there were to latch on to. Which brings me to:

Okay, so. Just being on tumblr, you cannot avoid knowing Flint and Max and Anne because they’re the most prominent queer characters (with Eleanor as an honorary mention? I confess I’m not really into her so far. I like her dynamic with Flint, but she’s written way too much like a Girl Power TM character for my liking). And so far, I really like all of them (though I had NO idea that Max has such a wacky accent, 8 episodes in it still takes me out of the action. I watched The Secret Circle, I know that this isn’t Jessica Parker Kennedy’s real accent, why can’t she just speak like she normally does? It would be much less distracting!). Though I must say I can’t blame Flint’s crew for constantly mutinying, working for him seems like a truly terrible situation to find oneself in. (Sidenote: I had been vaguely aware that there was an awkward Flint/Miranda sex scene in S1, and man oh man, y’all were not underselling that, it was hellish to watch. Not to get too explicit, but I truly have never seen a man so completely bored, to the extent that I am certain he didn’t finish, and I’m honestly confused how he, uh, managed to be interested enough to even start. He looked like he was on the verge of yawning the whole time! He looked like he was going over his grocery list in his head!)

What I was not expecting was that my favorite character so far would not be one of the queer ones, but Jack Rackham. And I must say that, as someone with access to Wikipedia, I am unhappy with this situation! I always want my favorites to be survivors, and they never are. But I just can’t resist this guy, he’s so damn funny and smart-alecky, I love his nasally little voice, his weird glasses, his eighteenth-century mullet, those freaking sideburns... And I’m so excited to see the development of the Rackham/Anne/Max dynamic.

Other fun characters: I really like Silver! He makes me laugh! And Billy Bones is Sir Percival of the Sleeveless Chainmail from Merlin, of course I’m happy to see him again. And I enjoyed Gates, RIP. And I liked the nerdy accountant guy who bit a man’s throat out until he shot Flint (but then again, see my earlier comment about how these guys are honestly right to mutiny). And I don’t know that I like Vane, but every time I see him, my head just goes IT’S JODY FROM SHAMELESS, so that’s something, I guess.

It’s been a long time since I watched a Starz series--not since my beloved Spartacus, I think, and honestly it took me a while to readjust to all the naked people. Especially at first, I think this show isn’t as good at justifying it as Spartacus, where the aesthetic was just so joyously over-the-top and absurd that the copious numbers of naked people were just part of the canvas alongside the gore and violence (BS is pleasantly gory, though, I honestly have laughed a number of times at the gross corpse presentations. You can tell the makeup/effects people were having fun!). In this show, all the nakedness feels very much like network notes, especially since it skews so heavily female (say what you will about Spartacus, a huge proportion of the cast was beefcake in loincloths, it’s impossible to argue that the male body was not lasciviously displayed). By the end of the season, I’m maybe slightly less disgruntled, thanks to the valiant efforts of Vane and Rackham to even the playing field somewhat.

Uh, I guess that’s it? I’m honestly just planning on going straight to S2, because I’m having a good time.

#yes i did avoid using the word n*dity because i have it ts'd and i don't like having my own posts blocked #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #black sails #my commentary

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smallerinfinities · 4 years

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Quarantine Day 26

a/n: in which Shawn gets a haircut

yeah...I couldn’t help myself. I watched so many youtube videos for this 😂

warnings: 2.6k of fluff and like a whisper, A HINT of smut

“That sounds nice…”

Shawn’s fingers paused against the vibrating strings. He leaned back against the couch toward your disembodied voice rounding the corner. You walked into the living room with a glass of red wine, your cheeks already fully flushed from the alcohol, wearing one of his Givenchy sweatshirts and a pair of little hot pink sleep shorts.

“Just working on something to record later,” he smiled, continuing his strumming and plucking, little head nods on heavy beats to mark the time. “I’ll send it to Teddy later...she misses the studio.”

He’d been shacked up with you for twenty-six days in your tiny apartment. When the stay-at-home order came down from the city, he’d rushed over, just an overnight bag full of clothes and his guitar case, not wanting to be alone and not wanting to be in chaos at his parents’ house. Aaliyah was doing remote school and whining about college applications everyday, he’d said, not a place he wanted to spend an indefinite amount of time. Sometimes you thought it was a lie, seeing how easily he fit into your life. He belonged here with you. Especially when he’d come up behind you while you waited for your morning coffee to suck on that place behind your ear. It always ended up with the two of you back in bed for an hour longer than you should have been. It had happened again this morning. Thank God it was a holiday.

Now, he was stretched out on your L-shaped couch, the only luxury you’d allowed yourself when you moved out of your parents house. It was the dominant feature in the room, heavy and royal blue, one of those couches that you sank into when you sat down. His legs were propped up on the ottoman in front of him with his acoustic in his lap.

You sat down next to him, pulling your knees up to your chest and using one as a makeshift coaster for your stemless wine glass. He stopped playing again and shifted closer to you, patting his lap for your legs. You smiled at him, stretching your legs out across his thighs, and let him rest his guitar on top. When he started plucking the strings again, you could feel the vibration of the sound against your skin.

He hummed random words and noises to the melody with his eyes closed, lost to creating but content to be here touching your skin. Your legs rubbed comfortingly against his own bare ones. He’d taken to just wearing t-shirts and boxers around the apartment, no need to get dressed if he wasn’t running to the grocery store or to the door to get the food delivery. You reached out and ran your fingers through his floppy curls, one of them getting caught in a tangle.

“Baby,” you said, causing him to strum slower, “you need a haircut.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, changing to a minor chord to amplify his woe, “it’s been bugging me for awhile but I don’t have anything to cut it with. Not even at home.” You rolled your eyes, knowing he hadn’t had anyone but Anna touch his hair in five years.

“I can cut it.”

He stilled immediately, his eyes bugging a little as he loudly swallowed.

“I….I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on,” you swung your legs out from under the guitar excitedly. The instrument protested with discordant vibrations. “I have some clippers left from my last dumbass boyfriend who was obsessive about his stupid sideburns. I can watch a YouTube video. This could be fun!”

The reticence in his eyes was screaming at you, but you were on a mission now. You sprung up from the couch, half sprinting over to the closet in the hall to dig out the gray plastic box that held the clippers and all the attachments.

“See?!” You showed him the case, already turning on your heels toward the bathroom.

Shawn sighed again, knowing it was a lost cause now. At least my hair grows fast. He would probably be able to hide out for as long as it might take to grow back. He leaned his guitar against the couch cushions and pushed himself to stand, following you to the bathroom. When he got there, he had to swallow a chuckle.

“I’m trying to find some hair cutting scissors!” You yelled, digging underneath the sink, even though you were only a couple of feet away from him. He bit down on his fist, his shoulders shaking. You were bent over, hot pink shorts stretched over your gorgeous ass just tight enough to see the black lace hugging your curves, but the hood from his sweatshirt had come up over your head so you looked like a sexy burglar.

“Take your time,” he snorted.

“Shawn!” You whipped around, missing scissors gleaming in between your fingers, “so help me God, I will cut off your favorite curl if you laugh at me.”

“Okay, okay,” he straightened, gulping, “where do you want me?”

You grinned, “well, I always want you between my thighs, but for now can you grab a chair from the breakfast table?”

He nodded and disappeared back down the hall, his curls shaggy and swaying with his walk. You plugged in the clippers and set the scissors on top of the set of towels you’d pulled from the linen closet. Satisfied that everything you’d need was accounted for, including the overgrown mop you’d be cutting as Shawn returned with his chair, you pulled out your phone and opened up YouTube.

“Sit,” you said, pointing to the chair but not taking your eyes off your phone. You pulled up a quick video about cutting tools and how to use them, running through clipper sizing and how to blend. Simple enough.

“Okay, okay, this seems pretty easy,” you nodded, staring at Shawn’s reflection in the mirror. He looked….petrified. He was breathing shallow. His shoulders looked like they were glued to his ears. Your eyes widened and you leaned over him, “honey, are you okay?”

“I don’t know why I’m freaking out, it’s just hair,” he looked up at you like a lost puppy.

“I know you don’t want me to fuck it up, and I promise I’ll stop if you don’t like what I’m doing, okay?”

“Okay,” he exhaled in a rush, his shoulders relaxing down to their normal position. “Have you done this before? Like used clippers ever?”

“Once or twice,” you said, not inviting more questions on your qualifications. You didn’t want to tell him that you’d done this exactly once on your best friend in high school who wanted an “alternative” haircut when she came out to her parents. It looked basically like the picture afterward, think Hayley Williams but a lot shorter...and half buzzed. The 2000s were weird.

“Now take off your shirt,” you instructed, pointing the scissors at him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he couldn’t help but smirk as he stripped his vintage Sting tee off. His skin was still just barely freckled from his Mexico holiday vacation. You traced them with the tips of your fingers until he shivered, moving your hands down, through the unkempt hair there and back up to squeeze his shoulders. He melted in your hands, dropping his chin to his chest and moaning.

“Good,” you said, “now turn and lean back.” Turning on the sink, you reached for a comb, “we’re doing this salon style.”

He did as you asked, dipping his head almost all the way under the faucet. You combed through it, making sure the whole mop was wet. He looked a little like a water spaniel wading through a lake. You grabbed his expensive shampoo that smelled like bergamot and patchouli and lathered it into his hair.

With everything going on in the world, outside, in their city, the act of washing his hair was soothing. Simple, task-oriented, clean. You understood why people did this for a living. Shawn let out a moan when your fingers dug deep into his scalp and your knees buckled a little. You washed out the suds and applied conditioner, turning off the sink to let it sink in.

“This is nice,” he whispered with his eyes closed like it was a secret. You wiggled your fingers above his face, letting little droplets fall, giggling when one fell on his nose. He scrunched his face up and let it fall down the side of his face.

“Did you know,” you said as you flipped the water back on to give him a final rinse, “that I’m very happy you decided to come quarantine with me? I would have gone insane.”

He opened his eyes and smiled one of those big Mendes toothy smiles, “I didn’t even really think about it. I just packed my bag.”

You grinned back at him, turning off the water and grabbing at a towel to dry his curls, but before you could get back to him he shook his head, sending a shower of man-smell infused water everywhere.

“SHAWN, WHAT THE HELL?!”

He doubled over laughing, catching the towel you launched at his head. He scrubbed vigorously at his hair while you toweled off, slipping off his sweatshirt and revealing the bralette you had on underneath. It barely concealed your nipples. If he was gonna distract you, he was gonna get distracted. When he out from under the towel his curls were frizzed out, sticking out from his head at all angles. His breath stopped on a quick inhale and his face immediately flushed.

“Honey, I,” he stuttered, “I can’t focus with you like that.”

“Oh, good thing I’m the one with the scissors around here,” you quipped, pushing him back in the chair and draping the damp towel over his shoulders.

You grabbed a random hair tie from the counter and parted out the top section of his hair, the part that would stay longer after you trimmed the back and sides. His eyes were closed again, probably to block out the anxiety of watching you in the mirror. You took a minute to say a little prayer. Please, God. Don’t let me fuck this up. The fucking fangirls will murder.

You flipped on the clippers.

His hair fell to the floor in little tufts, coloring the floor with dark clouds. You used the second longest setting, making sure he wasn’t losing the wave in his hair at any point. The reference picture in your head was from around the Seoul show last year. It was a good length. Curly all around but not too unkempt. It was your favorite hair.

You stopped about three-quarters of the way to the top section, switching to the longest setting to blend up to the top of his head. There was something to be said about hair just long enough to grab onto. You’d test it out later.

The top was going to need scissors. You flipped off the clippers, returning them to the case, and picked up the sharp shears. Shawn gulped again, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily.

“I saw that,” you chided through the comb in your teeth. If you were being honest, it looked pretty good so far. No weird lawn mower tracks or weird chunks missing. The waves were still there. A whisper of labradoodle but not full on sheepdog. That was the goal. Nothing crazy.

You took his hair in inch wide sections from right to left, trimming about an inch off everywhere, a little more in the wilder areas. He reached up to run his fingers through it before you were finished.

“Hey!” You swatted his hand away, “let me finish before you check my work!”

He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and bobbing his knee up and down. Impatient bastard, you thought, snipping a few more curls. The only ones you didn’t really touch, maybe a quarter inch here and there, were the curls toward the front. The ones that dropped down into his face and across his forehead. You liked those, loved to push them back in the morning when he looked down at you, naked and pressed against his chest. You ruffled his damp hair to see how it might curl and retract.

“Shawn,” you leaned down to whisper in his ear, “you can look now.”

He slowly peeked with one eye, then with the other, his eyes growing wide when he saw it fully. He got up out of the chair to lean up to the mirror, inspecting and combing his fingers through it about fifty times. You grabbed some oil off the side of the sink and ran it through the top, letting it soak in and tame the frizz drying into the curls.

“So,” you needled, “do you like it or what?”

“I…” he rifled around in his toiletry bag, pulling out a little black box of hair paste, “I think I love it.” He smoothed some of the cream between his hands and fingered it through the ringlets. They snapped and bounced back on top of his head.

“Holy shit, thank God,” you exhaled in a rush, sitting on the lid of the toilet while your heart rate slowed.

He stopped and looked over, his big green-brown eyes asking questions.

“I mean, I wasn’t worried,” you backtracked, stopping when he lifted an eyebrow. You huffed. “Okay, I was a little worried...the fans...they’re vicious! And it’s your hair! You could probably trademark it for fuck’s sake!”

He tipped his head back and laughed loud and long, some stray cut hair falling from his neck to the floor.

“You know, I thought about halfway through that it’s good I look so sexy in backward baseball caps.” He waggled his eyebrows at you, obviously suppressing a laugh at his own bad joke. You got up and shoved him in the shoulder, crossing the hall to your bedroom. He followed closely behind.

“I don’t give a fuck what the fans think about my hair, you know that,” he leaned on the door frame and watched you dig for a dry shirt. You pulled out an oversized Maple Leafs tee and bent to throw it on.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he stopped you, catching at the shirt and letting it fall to the floor. “You gave me a haircut, so now it’s my turn to give you something.” He threaded his fingers with yours and led you to the edge of your bed, setting you down and stepping back.

“Now, do you like my hair?” he asked, kneeling in front of you, busying himself with untying your shorts. He mouthed at the inside of your thighs, pausing only to grip your shorts and panties in one hand and drag them down your legs. His lips returned to your skin, closer and closer to where you wanted him.

“Yes,” you moaned, widening your legs and combing your fingers through his still damp hair.

“Yes, what?” he smirked against your pubic bone. His hand slid up your belly and pushed up the barely-there bralette, pushing you back to lay against the rumpled sheets. He traced your lips with the tip of his tongue, not dipping inside until he got his answer.

“Yes! Oh, God,” you fisted the waves at the nape of his neck. Perfect. “Yes, I love your hair!”

“Good,” he reached up to kiss you just once before returning to his throne between your legs, licking a long stripe from your entrance to your swollen, aching clit, “that’s all that matters.”

Words were lost to moans and shaking limbs and muffled curses. It turned out his hair was, in fact, just long enough to grab onto.

taglist: @justanotherfangurl272 @siennarossi @trustfundshawn @alone-in-madness @harryandmolly @thatindiannerdygirl @mendesromano @fromthicctosticc @esoltis280 @softmendesss @sinplisticshawn @nedthegay @september-lace @itrocksmysocks @disaster-rose @mendesoft @luvluvxx @i-play-video-games @ihearthemcallingforyou @gentleshawn @kitykatnumber @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @ijustreallylikeshawnokay @shhhawnmendes @shawnsblue @imaginashawnns @mendesficsxbombay @shawn-youth

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn peter raul mendes #quarantine fic #my writing

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stina-is-a-punk-rocker · 4 years

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stephanie perkins: ‘anna and the french kiss’

SPOILERS AHEAD!

Then again, if you’ve read any YA book, ever, it’s fairly obvious what’s going to happen.

I was going to go easy on this book; I really was. It’s really unfair how media aimed at a female demographic is seen as frivolous and vapid, and more often than not bashed and bullied when it comes to reviews. “People actually enjoy this crap?” ask the powers that be. “It’s worthless! Pulp! Dreamy-eyed nonsense only complete nimrods could ever like!”

And I take offense to that. There’s nothing wrong with liking romance or happy endings or stories about cute European boys. I was ecstatic when I stumbled across Anna and the French Kiss upon a chance trip to the bookstore. The cover was… meh (Century Gothic? Really? There were no other fonts?). But I’d heard nothing but praise about the book, and I was prepared to stay up all night and into the wee hours of the morning to finish it.

Admittedly, I was far from impressed upon the first reading. The characters were unlikable, the plot would’ve worked better for less shitty characters, honestly fuck these characters am I supposed to like them, fuck Anna, fuck Étienne, fuck Bridgette, fuck Toph, fuck Dave and Meredith and Amanda and Seany and every other stupid character in this stupid book.

The second time around, I expected to not hate it as much as I did when I first read it. It’s happened- I hated Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda when I first read it, and when I read it again, all that red-hot anger simmered down into an overall dislike. I thought To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before was trash at first, and then I read it again, and it got promoted to recyclable waste matter.

I found Anna and the French Kiss horrendous the first time I read it, and then I read it again, and… yeah, it’s still pretty awful.

Le Sommaire:

Anna Oliphant is a seventeen-year-old wannabe film critic who is #NotLikeOtherGirls – so she’s exactly like every other female YA lead. To her credit, she never explicitly says she’s special… everyone around her does.

She has a pretty meh life in Atlanta, Georgia with her mum and little bruv Sean- and then her dad decides to ship her off to France for her final year of high school. I’m not judging Anna for bawling her eyes out on her first day; I’m a huge mummy’s girl myself and I’d probably (definitely) do the same.

Meredith is Anna’s next-door neighbor, who does that thing which only happens in YA where she’s like “Oh, newbie? Let’s be friends!” (Or maybe it does happen irl and I tend to make a bad first impression which is why no one has ever approached me.)

Meredith’s friends are: Rashmi and Josh (who are a couple), and Étienne St. Clair. Guess which one is the love interest.

Étienne is cultured in that white person way where he’s half American, one quarter French and one quarter British. A true international.

But- *gasp*- American-British-French boy has a girlfriend, Ellie.

Anna has an absolutely gorgeous punk rocker (yum) boy with sideburns (yikes) back home named Christopher. Also, Christopher’s nickname is ‘Toph’ instead of ‘Chris’ because he too is #NotLikeOtherGirls. Anna tells us that nothing will happen between her and Étienne.

Anna is wrong.

Meredith has a crush on Étienne. So does the Regina George of the school, Amanda.

Étienne and Anna have some moments ™.

♫ Everyone else in the room can see it, everyone else but Anna ♫

I tear my hair out in frustration.

Several other white boys vie for Anna’s heart. Anna remains blissfully unaware (♫ that’s what makes you beautiful ♫). Étienne (who is still dating Ellie, mind you) is unreasonably agitated by this.

Étienne’s mum has cancer btw, which excuses all the shitty things he does, because he’s just a poor, misunderstood boy.

Ellie dresses up as a, quote unquote, ‘slutty nurse’ for Hallowe’en, though- so it’s perfectly okay to dislike her (even though, in the first interaction she had with Anna, where Ellie meets Anna and Étienne, after Étienne takes Anna to the movies, Ellie is perfectly sweet).

Anna, however, is NOT a slut. Amanda is, though. And Rashmi’s cold. And Meredith’s desperate. And Emily’s a slut, too. And her friend Bridgette from Atlanta is a traitor. Anna has an intense case of internalized misogyny.

Anna’s friend Bridgette from Atlanta is screwing Toph, and Anna throws a fit.

Étienne and Anna have some more moments ™.

A truly chaotic series of events befall Anna. She somehow winds up dating Dave (one from the harem of white boys who likes her) to spite Étienne, she gets into a fight with Amanda, more drama ensues, there’s a hint for a spinoff, Étienne and her kiss, Meredith sees and feels betrayed… several misunderstandings and more bullshit later, Étienne and Anna wind up together, because true love conquers all.

Mes Réflexions:

(If the French is off, blame Google Translate.)

Usually, it takes me half a page of my notebook to scribble down my thoughts about the book I’m reading. This motherfucker took me almost an entire page.

Granted, a solid 30% of those notes are me throwing insults at Étienne, but still. ‘STOP STOP STOP YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND YOU DICK’ counts, right?

(That was #17 in my notes, by the way.)

For the record, I like Stephanie Perkins’s writing. It’s not as over-the-top and unnecessarily introspective as Jenny Han’s in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, and the interactions between Anna and her classmates were natural and not the “How do you do, fellow kids?” style of Becky Albertalli’s Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda. The pacing is decent- I didn’t feel like it was too rushed; not the insta-love trope most YA romances unfortunately fall prey to.

And yet. AND YET.

Anna: “What’s your problem?” Amanda: “You.”

Same, Amanda, same.

Anna Oliphant is one of my least favorite leads in a book, ever. Étienne’s even shittier. And it’s not like Nick or Amy Dunne from Gone Girl, or any of the main characters from The Secret History, where readers pretty much unanimously hate them. You’re meant to relate to Anna, you’re meant to find Étienne charming and dreamy. I literally had to put the book away and calm myself down several times- especially in the last quarter of the book.

One of my main gripes with Anna is how… dumb she is. I guess Anna’s “Oopsies, silly me, I don’t know French!” is meant to be relatable to the readers. And some parts (like her not knowing how to order food because she can’t speak French) are plausible, but- sis, you didn’t know how to spell oui? And my idea of a cinematic masterpiece is Kung-Fu Panda, but even a dumbass like me knows that France is the film appreciation capital of the world. And yet Anna, a self-professed film freak, doesn’t?

Of course, Anna’s gorgeous, but she has no clue, because of course she doesn’t- even though she has multiple guys falling head over heels for her.

I’m in a short skirt. It’s the first time I’ve worn one here, but my birthday seems like the appropriate occasion. “Woo, Anna!” Rashmi fake-adjusts her glasses. “Why do you hide those things?”

Étienne is staring at my legs. The scales covering them throb under his intense gaze, and the pincers sticking out of my thighs start clicking rapidly in arousal. My hooves shiver in ecstasy.

… sorry, that’s not funny.

Her friends think Anna’s weird for wanting to write film reviews (which is the most contrived thing I’ve ever heard) instead of being the next Margot Robbie or whatever, but of course Étienne doesn’t and he thinks it’s not weird and cool and that Anna is such a special snowflake.

(Man, I sound like Amanda.)

And then we have this spiel by Anna about how she got into film critiquing (?), because we the readers need to know how special and #NotLikeOtherGirls Anna is.

To this, I say, “Piss off, you pretentious fuck.”

Of course, Anna’s a virgin and she’s never gotten drunk before or worn short skirts- she’s not a slut, she shaves below the knees only.

And would YA really be YA without several hearty helpings of internalized misogyny?

First up, we have the bimbo; the Barbie doll archetype whose only goal in life is acquiring the main guy (who is quite obviously uninterested in her), and making life hell for our protagonist. Amanda Whatsername (is she ever given a surname?) has this coveted role in Anna and the French Kiss. She’s blond (because of course she is); the first time we meet her, she’s in a, quote unquote, ‘teeny tank top’, and she also ‘positions herself for maximum cleavage exposure’. She’s always flipping her hair, getting her grubby paws on Étienne, giving Anna the stink-eye, being homophobic and a grade-A bitch.

Meredith goes batshit when Anna and Étienne kiss, and is very pouty and unhappy during prior Anna x Shittiene moments. Honey… he’s just not that into you. Rashmi’s the Ice Queen reincarnate and halfway to bitchdom. Anna doesn’t go as hard on them as she does on literally every other female her age in the book, though.

Rashmi looks at me for the first time, calculating whether or not I might fall in love with her own boyfriend.

Anna, hate to break it to you, but not everyone’s a possessive fucking weirdo.

About Cherrie, her ex-boyfriend Matt’s new girlfriend:

And maybe Cherrie isn’t as bad as I remember. Except she is. She totally is. After only five minutes in her company, I cannot fathom how Bridge stands sitting with her at lunch every day.

Her lifeless laugh is one of her lesser attributes. What does Matt see in her?

Even Bridgette, Anna’s best friend from Atlanta, isn’t immune to Anna’s anti-female propaganda. She’s screwing the guy Anna used to like, and Anna, the hypocrite, throws a huge fit.

For context: Bridgette and Toph are in a band called the Penny Dreadfuls (why is it with YA books and horrible band names? ‘Emoji’ from Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda was bad enough), and Anna + Matt + Cherrie go to a bowling alley to see them perform. After the performance, Toph announces that he’s sleeping with Bridge, and Anna confronts Bridge… onstage.

“… You’re welcome to move in when I leave again, because that’s what you want, right? My life?”

She shakes with fury. “Go to hell.”

“Take my life. You can have it. Just watch out for the part where my BEST FRIEND SCREWS ME OVER!” I knock over a cymbal stand, and the brass hits the stage with an earsplitting crash that reverberates through the bowling alley. Matt calls my name. Has he been calling it this entire time? He grabs my arm and leads me around the electrical cords and plugs and onto the floor and away, away, away.

Everyone in the bowling alley is staring at me.

I duck my head so my hair covers my face. I’m crying. This would have never happened if I hadn’t given Toph her number. All of those late-night practices and… he said they’ve had sex! What if they’ve had it at my house? Does he come over when she’s watching Seany? Do they go in the bedroom?

I’m going to be sick.

Give me a goddamn break.

Anna, about Ellie:

To my amazement, Ellie breaks into an ear-to-ear smile. Oddly enough, it’s this moment I realize that despite her husky voice and Parisian attire, she’s sort of… plain. But friendly-looking.

That still doesn’t mean I like her.

“Anna! From Atlanta, right? Where’d you guys go?”

She knows who I am? St. Clair describes our evening while I contemplate this strange development. Did he tell her about me? Or was it Meredith? I hope it was him, but even if it was, it’s not like he said anything she found threatening. She doesn’t seem alarmed that I’ve spent the last three hours in the company of her very attractive boyfriend. Alone.

[about Ellie’s Hallowe’en costume] Slutty nurse. I don’t believe it. Tiny white button-up dress, red crosses across the nipples. Cleavage city.

If I didn’t like Ellie before, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now. It doesn’t matter that I can count how many times we’ve met on one hand.

I fantasize about their break-up. How he could hurt her, and she could hurt him, and all of the ways I could hurt her back. I want to grab her Parisian-styled hair and yank it so hard it rips from her skull. I want to sink my claws into her eyeballs and scrape.

It turns out I am not a nice person.

YOU DON’T FUCKING SAY.

Emily Middlestone bends over to pick up a dropped eraser, and Mike Reynard leers at her breasts. Gross. Too bad for him she’s interested in his best friend, Dave. The eraser drop was deliberate, but Dave is oblivious.

One of the juniors, a girl with dark hair and tight jeans, stretches in a move designed to show off her belly button ring to Paul/Pete. Oh, please.

And I’m meant to like this character? I’m supposed to root for her?

I’m not saying every girl in the book should be perfectly sweet and friendly- that’s just not realistic. But when Anna has something judgmental to say about every other young female character… maybe she’s the problem.

In fact, the only girl I recall getting a pass is Isla Whatsername. And why do you think?

Brilliant.

And now we have the amalgamation of almost every fanfic boyfriend trope from 2014, Étienne St. Clair. Brown-eyed Harry Styles. I can’t fucking wait.

Étienne could’ve discovered the cure for cancer, or abolished poverty, or volunteered at animal shelters in his spare time. He could’ve been the most virtuous guy around (fret not; he decidedly isn’t). And I still wouldn’t’ve thought of him as the man of my dreams because HE HAS A BLOODY GIRLFRIEND.

I mean, which girl doesn’t want her boyfriend to say:

“I cheated on her every day. In my mind, I thought of you in ways I shouldn’t have, again and again.”

Fuckin’ smooth, bro.

“No matter what a terrible boyfriend I was, I wouldn’t actually cheat on her. But I thought you’d know.”

Such a gentleman!

“So you can keep dating Ellie, but I can’t even talk to Dave?”

Étienne looks shamed. He stares at his boots. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t even know what to do with his apology.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. And this time, he’s looking at me. Begging me. “And I know it’s not fair to ask you, but I need more time. To sort things out.”

And this gem:

“If you liked me so much, why didn’t you break up with her?”

“I’ve been confused. I’ve been so stupid.”

*me, banging pots and pans together* F U C K Y O U

“Ellie’s not like you, Anna; she’s a slut and a whore even though I’m the one who’s been thinking about another girl inappropriately and I’m the one who gets my knickers in a twist when another man glances in your direction because my masculinity is extremely fragile and I’m a total hypocrite and a dickhead.”

I mean, he didn’t actually say that, but that’s the gist.

WHILE DATING ELLIE: he gets Anna a book of sexual love poems, he calls her attractive (“Any bloke with a working prick would be insane not to like you.”) multiple times, he gets jealous whenever another guy so much as breathes in Anna’s direction and constantly interrupts such interactions, he’s been ditching his friends for his girlfriend but suddenly decides he prefers a new girl over said girlfriend, he thinks bread pudding tastes good- in conclusion, he is a Massive Fucking Prick. Though in hindsight, him and Anna deserve each other. They’re awful.

I had loads more notes taken down (Anna using Dave; “The important thing is this: Dave is available. St. Clair is not.”); the implication that cheating is okay because Ellie is bad or whatever, even though the sudden change in her character seems contrived because she was perfectly okay with Étienne and Anna hanging out before; how my blood boils whenever I read an American book and American girls are like “oOoOh AcCenT!!!1!!1!!”; me reading “DAVE SAYS YER A SLUTBAG” in Hagrid’s voice; the sheer atrocity of the name ‘Étienne St. Clair’ (sounds like a caricature of a French person)… but this ‘review’ is already pushing 3k and I can’t be fucked to expand on any of those points.

Verdict (which is apparently the same in French):

Who needs Christopher when Étienne St. Clair is in the world?

Speak for yourself.

#books #book review #anna and the french kiss #Stephanie Perkins #french #france #parisian #paris #YA #young adult #romance #teen fiction #bad books

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italian-pastry · 4 years

Text

Rambling about the Family Tree

Here’s the Family Tree!

And under the cut is all my rambling about designs or whatever! (this ended up not being about designs too much. Hm)

OK WE NEED TO BE ORGANIZED HERE I’ll be going generation by generation, from left to right. Everyone will be here, just for organization sake. Of course, some people are more important than others, so be warned for long rambles (in generation 2 especially) OK LET’S GO

Generation 1: Iida Parents: Idk man. They don’t even have designs. They’re probably cool Enji: He doesn’t deserve to be drawn well :) That and he doesn’t deserve to meet his grandkids :)) Rei: She deserves to be pretty and be a cool grandma. Her grandkids adore her. Hisashi: This mans is kinda wildin’ in my universe. Whatever he’s up to, it’s not being Inko’s husband. Inko: Soft grandma!!!!! We love her and she loves her grandkids and husband. Toshinori: He deserves to retire and settle down and be happy with his family and be adored by his gandkids. Emiko’s Father: He and Yukie got married (and Yukie got pregnant with Emiko) almost right out of highschool. He expected Yukie to give up her career to care for Emiko, but that didn’t gel with Yukie, so she divorced him when Emiko was little. Idk where he is now. Yukie: We love her. I love her. She’s super sweet and super cool and super short and that’s all you need to know. She also looks a lot like Eijirou (or, at least I tried to make them look similar) Crimson Riot: I subscribe to the Dad-Crimson theory, so here we are. After Emiko started elementary school, Yukie tried to get her career back together, but after meeting and having a thing with Crimson Riot and getting pregnant with Eijirou, she gave it up to be able to care for her kids. Nadie: An American journalist who moved to Japan for work! She and Yukie met and got married when Eijirou was 9-10. She has 3 kids from her previous marriage (that ended in disaster). Christopher Skyline: (Yes, THE Christopher “Captain Celebrity” Skyline. We’re just ignoring the Vigilantes canon over here.) Nadie’s ex-husband and the father of Hanae, Etsuko, and Suzume. He was a serial cheater, and the kids was a desperate attempt made by Nadie to try to make him stick around. Sperm Donor: Just a sperm donor. Mitsuki: Still looks SUPER young. She doesn’t like it when her grandkids call her “Grandma” or anything like that because it makes her feel old. Masaru: Loves being called “Grandpa” or whatever by his grandkids. He loves them, and likes to visit them a lot. Mika: Still quiet and chill. We love her. Kyotoku: Still loud and fun. He’s a cool dude, and he got them smile lines Beru: Her head is weird. I’m sorry queen, but it freaked me out. Ganma: He freaked me out even more. He was my least favorite to draw. Sorry bro. Uraraka’s Parents: Her dad reminds me of my dad (vaguely). They don’t have names, but they’re cool. Also, Ochako was able to get them a nice house, so good for them. Shouta: Just go look at @nartothelar‘s Silver Fox AU that was my main inspiration. He a grumpy old man who only likes his kids and grandkids and family. Hizashi: Same thing as Shouto. I like to think that all of his hair has grayed, so his hair is like Platinum Blond now.

Ok! Gen 1 done, and it was mostly me rambling about Eijirou’s parents. Maybe one day I’ll dedicate a post to them.

Generation 2: Tenya: I had him grow his hair out because 1.) I thought it was cute and 2.) it represents him loosening up a lil’ after school. He wears contacts during Hero Work, but wears his glasses casually. Tensei: Literally just the same dude. He’s Tensei and he’s chill and he’s cool. Dabi: I gave him an eyebrow piercing and a fun new cut. (Fun fact: That’s his Fantasy AU fairstyle) Fuyumi: I hope her hair looks very Teacher-y and Motherly. I think she looks super cute. Natsuo: A simple dude. He finds a cut that works and sticks with it. Although I did give him sideburns and a lil’ touch of beard. Shouta: Instead of shaving his red side, he combs the white side over it. Also, I hc that in his left eye, he’s half blind. Izuku: Yikes. He got the wound early in his hero career. He went blind in his right eye, so he and Shouta together are like 1 and 1/4 blind. Emiko: Eijirou’s older half sister. I would say she’s Girlboss and Natsuo is Malewife, and I think that’s accurate - even if only a little. She’s a social service worker, and met Natsuo in college. I had an old design before, but I like this one A LOT more Eijirou: I am a simp for long hair Eijirou, so here we are. ALSO freckles!!!! I love freckley eijirou. Also stubly beard and cool new scar. He is very dad. Hanae: The chill little sister. Probably a lawyer or professor or something smart like that. Etsuko: The crazy sister. She works in the hero field! If as hero support or as an actual pro, idk yet! Suzume: The ex-crybaby sister. She’s prolly doing something fun and artsy. Also, HUGE demigirl vibes Kane: The energetic little brother! He has most certainly gone pro, since he’s like very early 20s now. Fun Fact!: He was 6 when Mieko was born, so a lot of people thought they were siblings. It only got worse when Akio rolled around. Katsuki: hehe Undercut Bakugou. Also, hearing aids! I put his eyebrow scar there so he and his hubby are matchy matchy. Actually, both of their scars are pretty matchy matchy.... huh. Also, I’m totally not saying he was invloved in the fight that gave Izuku his scar, definitely not. Mashirao: STOP SAYING HE’S PLAIN AND ORDINARY. HE’S BEAUTIFUL DAMMIT. Every time I draw him I think about how darn pretty he is and that he could be like a KPop star or smth Tooru: It’s tooru! Super fun lil’ lady. What a queen. Mina: Look at that kick-ass scar I gave her. It’s what she deserves. Although, that eye may be a lil fucked up. Ah well, at least it looks cool. Yuuga: LOOK AT HIS HAIR. I am so happy with how it turned out! He so pretty. He and Mina are DEFINATELY Girlboss and Malewife. Hado: Also a simple lady. Prolly also needed to stick to her brand of long hair. She still super pretty tho. Lowkey disappointed I didn’t give her the stereotypical Anime-Protag’s-Mom hairstyle Haya: Completely shaved her head, and got more piercings! Like, 100% more Punk Rock. Itsuka: FRECKLES FRECKLES FRECKLES. And short hair!!!!!! Sigh, I love her. Tetsutetsu: I tried to make him look like Ejirou, even if just the face structure. I like how his hair and scar turned out tho. What a lad. Mezo: What a cool dude! Got a sick nasty scar, but covers it with his hair. I think, even with a majority of his face covered, he is still very handsome Miya: She has a name now!!!!!! What an icon. She’s a Hero Costume Designer, and she has a spider mutation. Wolf Spider, specifically (I think). She is so adorable and spunky I love her. Momo: Short hair!!!!!!1!1!1!11! God, what a goddess. We love her so so so much. Also, she gets to have a cool scar, too Kyouka: While she’s in UA, she straightens her hair, but after she graduates, she doesn’t care abt it. Momo rlly likes it curly. She also has that thing going on where you shave all of ur head except for ur bangs (and the side thingies). Oh! And eyebrow piercing! Satsuki: Pretty! Also, I made sure that all the girls who would’ve been 6-7 during the current time all had ponytails now (Satsuki, Etsuko, and Eri) Samidare: He’s super cool, and I decided to give him long hair to make him cooler. Also, Demiboy vibes, anyone? Tsuyu: A queen!!!!!! I love her so much!!!!!!! When her hair is down, it reaches to her shoulder blades. Ochako: SHE LOOKS SO BADASS I AM SO HAPPY. Look at her, with those cool scars, and that cool hair! What a queen! Mirio: Classic Mirio! Tbh, idk if I’ll give Mirio his quirk back. Like a lot of the stuff in the recent arc I’ve ignored, soooo......... Tamaki: He has SO MUCH HAIR. It ridiculous. Since growing it out, he uses it to hide behind if it’s left down. So Mirio likes to do stuff with his hair and make it look cute. Nikko helps, too! Eri: A queen!!!!!!!!!! Idk if she’ll be a Pro Hero or doctor that specializes with pro heroes, but I want her to be happy and help people! Hitoshi: Hanta and Denki weaves flowers into his hair a la Rapunzel all the time. The braid is really loose and shitty a lot of the time tho. Ah well. Denki: Because I moved his black stripe to down the center of his hair, my little sister keeps calling Denki and Race Car. And I agree. He got those scars because he was able to train himself to really not fry his brain anymore, but that means if he overloads, his electricity escapes some other way, so through his ears and into his face. Hanta: That scar was very strategically places because I am a firm believe that Sero will uncannily resemble Shouta when he gets older. I hadn’t done a really good job at that tho....... hm.

Gen 2 is done!!!!!! It was my fave generation to draw UwU. I’m not sure what to say with Gen 3, since I’ve already talked about them a lot. Jeez, idk. I’ll think about something to ramble about later.

@questionableholidayreally Tozen rlly said “I am literally just vibing ;)”

#Long post #bnha #bnha fankids #bnha next gen #I still cannot get over the fact that I drew 84 faces #like #damn #If u have any questions or just wanna yell at me just slide on into those asks! I'm happy to answer!#Born And Raised #Mha Born And Raised

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miracul0us-multishipper · 5 years

Text

Welcome to the Back (Part 11)

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Lila knew the situation was getting out of hand, even before she heard Ladybug reveal that they weren’t friends. At this point, she had already escaped the school and hidden outside, where she was in no danger to be seen by Sentiquill.

“Stupid Ladybug!”, she muttered as she walked home, not bothering to check up on the others or return to school. Even after she saw the Miraculous Cure flash through the sky, her pace didn’t slow. She needed time to think of a fitting lie, and the fallout of today’s akuma would be enough to deal with tomorrow. Ugh, she hated Paris! You could never know what happened next, never plan ahead!

She groaned.

To be fair, the akuma attack was actually kind of convenient this time. It gave her a chance to check up on her looks at home, prepare for the meeting this afternoon. There was no second chance for the first impression, after all!

So when she entered the TV1 tower and flashed the employee ID she’d stolen from Mireille, she looked as professional as she could get.

René Bordeaux’s office was easy to find. His name was written on the door in bright, red letters and the voice that yelled into a phone on the other side was iconic. With a confident smile, she knocked on the door. The voice fell silent, then yelled into the phone once more before hanging up. Angry footsteps advanced and the door was flung open.

“What is it?!”, a middle-aged man shouted. Lila scanned him quickly. Carefully styled, blond-dyed hair. There was a hint of grey in his roots, something he obviously meant to hide. Scared of aging probably.

His suit looked brand new, but was a little too short on the ankles, she noticed and drew her conclusions: He valued luxury and tried to intimidate with pricy clothes, but didn’t actually know a lot about fashion and likely bought whatever looked the most expensive. He had sideburns, for God’s sake. 60’s nostalgia? Probably wanted to go back to “the good old days” his dad had talked about wistfully when he was young. She wondered if he was right-wing. A Control freak, judging by the meticulously organized room behind him, and he was single given the lacking photos of a girlfriend on his desk. Or photos of anything other than himself in general. There was a wedding ring on his finger, even though Lila’s research had brought up his disastrous divorce of Evelyn Leanne, and that he hadn’t married since. His lack of reminders of Leanne in the office - reference to the photos - made her doubt he harbored any romantic sentiment for her. He was only bitter about being shunned, and about losing a perfect trophy family. Likely hadn’t accepted the divorce.

All these deductions only took her seconds to complete, René Bordeaux was an open book.

Her smile widened. So much potential!

“Oh, my apologies.”, she said sweetly. “I was looking for René Bordeaux, but if he’s not here yet-“

“I’m René Bordeaux! Why do you think would I be in this office, otherwise?!”

She gasped in false shock.

“You? But you look so young!”

The man blinked, thrown off his rhythm. His anger deflated and his raised hand dropped to his side.

“I... I guess!”

He caught himself and crossed his arms.

“Well, you have a point. But I hear that a lot, young Lady, so what do you want?”

Perfect.

“I am Lila Rossi.”, she introduced herself. “I called you yesterday, about the Journalism Junior contest you produce. A great idea, by the way.”

“Ah, yes, of course. What was that about again?”

Time to get bolder.

“May I come inside?”, she crooned. “This shouldn’t be discussed so out in the open. Wouldn’t want the public to hear of it.”

Now she had his attention. Bordeaux had made his money as a populist and paparazzi, a reporter known for his scandalous articles. He’d lost his job after the lawsuits last year, but his new position as chief editor of TV1 didn’t mean he had lost his lurid hunger for sensations - especially if he was the first one to know.

He huffed, but stepped back to let her in. The view out of the window front was fantastic, but she wasn’t here to marvel at the city. So she came straight to the point.

“I am a great fan of you work!”, she lied. “Especially your article after the Leanne-Agreste Show Disaster. Your concern about your son’s well being was very inspiring for me. I wish I had a father like that.”

She was glad she didn’t have a father like that, but Bordeaux didn’t need to know that. His brows furrowed in confusion.

“Am I supposed to be flattered?”, he grumbled, but his chest visibly swoll with pride. “What does this have to do with the contest?”

Her shoulders dropped in concern.

“Monsieur Bordeaux, I don’t know how to tell you this, but... See, Felix is in my class, and I am very concerned about him. I wanted to do my report on him, but what I found during my research worries me.”

He’s a control freak, she remembered, and he has no real sentiment towards his family. He only cares about reputations.

“He’s surrounding himself with all the wrong people, and when I - as the class representative - wanted to warn his mother, she brushed me off as if she didn’t care at all.”

Bordeaux tried to hide his interest, but there was a spark of hunger in his eyes. He was sensing a chance.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. See, our class is very... diverse.”

If he leaned to right side of politics, the word would repulse him.

“There’s people like Felix, Adrien Agreste, the mayor’s daughter or me in our class, who are well educated and come from the right families. But there are also... less fortunate people. Like Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng for example, who has great influence over your son.”

He flinched at the foreign last name, just as expected. His face had turned sour.

“What are you saying?”

“I say, Felix needs you.”, she catered to his ego. “He has no father figure, no role model. His mother lets him do whatever he wants, not caring about his future or who might take advantage of him. He has an unhealthy amount of freedoms, and just this morning, he fell victim to Hawkmoth!”

Bordeaux’s hands twitched and his eyes widened.

“An akuma was after my heir?! Who was it? I need names!”

“Oh no, he was akumatized himself.”, she informed him smugly. He muttered something about bad publicity, then looked up again.

“What was the reason? His mother? He’s ridiculously devoted to her.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know.”, she lied. “He was alone with Dupain-Cheng when it happened.”

She sighed, then put enough urgency in her voice to make even herself cringe.

“He really needs someone who knows what’s best for him, who can look out for him and will set him limits. He needs you!”

Bordeaux scoffed and paced through his office.

“Do you think I didn’t try to save this family?! Evelyn won’t let me near them anymore, and Felix would rather live like a pauper before going against her.”

Lila smiled.

“I know.”

Her schemes were finally going somewhere.

“But I might have a solution for you.”

When Adrien came to school the next day, he felt numb. There was no Plagg at his side, no ring on his finger, no sense of freedom in his chest as he walked up to the entrance. Everything felt hollow. How could everyone be this carefree when his entire world had been uprooted yesterday? Didn’t they feel the shift in the air, the tension in the room? Chat Noir had vanished, yet nobody seemed to mind.

“Dude, there you are!”, Nino greeted him from a bench at side, surrounded by his classmates. “We were worried sick about you, yesterday! Did you see the Akuma Attack? We were all working with Ladybug, it was so cool!”

Adrien flinched, before stomping over to them.

“Really?”, he asked, trying to suppress his fury. “That sounds awesome! I was busy looking for Chat Noir, in case you wanted to know! So he could get back to protecting Ladybug.”

If Nino noticed how passive-aggressive he sounded, he only shrugged.

“Man, didn’t you hear? It was all over the news last night.”

Adrien frowned in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Yeah!”, Alix chimed in. “Chat Noir is cancelled!”

His blood ran cold. Did they... did they know he had lost his ring?!

“Look at this.”, Alya demanded and showed him her phone, playing a video on the Ladyblog. “Nino filmed this, since I was taken out.”

His eyes widened when he recognized the scenery. It was filmed from under the stairs, but Sentiquill and Ladybug were perfectly clear to see. His Lady held the Akuma in place with her yo-yo, ordering Chat to help. Alya was snorting with anger when the hero refused, leaving Rose at Sentiquill’s mercy.

“Can you believe it?!”, she seethed when the camera panned to Ladybug’s pained face, who apologized for rejecting him before asking for his help again. “He made her beg! He let Rose be drained for ink, just so he could force her into his stupid power play! And her apology?”

She scoffed.

“I can’t believe he would ask that of her! As if she owed him anything for rejecting him!”

“Don’t forget the part where he almost killed Ladybug!”, Chloé spoke up. “If I ever see his ugly ass face again, I won’t need a Miraculous to rip him apart.”

“But,” Adrien stammered, “We don’t know the whole story! Maybe he had a valid reason to-“

Chloé laughed and pinched his cheek.

“Oh, silly Adrikins. I always forget how little experience you have with people.”

Kim nodded.

“Yeah, if you get rejected, no matter how, you gotta accept it. Doesn’t mean you gotta take any shit” - he glared at Chloé, who had the decency to look ashamed - “But you sure have no right to pressure her into anything. And demanding an apology for saying no?”

He clicked his tongue.

“That guy definitely wasn’t present for Mendeleiev‘s lesson on consent.”

“He abandoned Rose.”, Juleka murmured from the background, holding her unusually quiet girlfriend’s hand. “I’ll never forgive him for that.”

Adrien gulped.

“Well, Miraculous Ladybug always undoes every harm, right?”

“Cut it, Adrien!”, Alya snarled at him all of a sudden. Everyone fell silent. The reporter blinked, then leaned back a little to regain control of herself.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”, she mumbled, staring at nothing. “What it felt like. Just because Ladybug can cure everyone doesn’t mean she can undo what happened to us.”

Nino put his arm around her and she relaxed a little. When she looked at Adrien again, she was as composed as always.

“I’ve never been more terrified than yesterday.”, she stated firmly. “And it was even worse for Rose, judging by how much ink Sentiquill got out of her. Chat could have spared her that, but he chose not to. To him, each of us was less important than getting back at Ladybug. Just for not catering to his whims.”

She shook her head.

“If Ladybug doesn’t kick his ass, Rena Rouge will.”

“Uh, I literally said it first.”, Chloé complained. “Tell Fox girl to stand in line, Queen Bee is the one that’s going to kick that mangy cat into orbit!”

As the others broke out in a fight of who would have the best chance to beat up Chat Noir - Sabrina stood eerily still in the corner, saying something about a knife and Chat’s eyes - Adrien slipped out of the yard. It felt like the entire universe was against him! Everything came crashing down around him, no one took his side anymore-

“Adrien?”, a voice behind him asked and he turned around to see Lila. “Are you alright?”

He swallowed down his feelings.

“Yeah”, he croaked. “Just worried. Ladybug told everyone about you, classes are going to be... tense.”

He sighed. He might not be Chat Noir right now, but he was still Adrien Agreste, Bustier’s sunshine boy. He had to keep the peace as far as possible.

“You need to come clean.”, he suggested. “Apologize and tell them the truth about everything, then maybe, this will blow over soon.”

And maybe Marinette would be his friend again. This whole Lila-mess had only harmed them all, it was time to set things right.

Lila nodded.

“Of course, you are so right.”

She smiled weakly.

“I know I never told you this, but you are a great friend. Thank you for protecting me as long as you could. I really wish people would listen to you more, you’re so thoughtful!”

He looked up.

“You think so?”

She nodded, patting his shoulders.

“They can’t see it, but I do.”, she assured him. “You do so much for your friends. You prevent them from harming themselves, from destroying the harmonic atmosphere. They can be grateful to call you their friend.”

He blushed a bit, flattered. And relieved. Finally someone that appreciated all his hard work!

Lila sighed and walked towards the yard.

“I’m really sorry you’ll be dragged into this mess, Adrien.”

He stiffened. Wait, what?

“What do you mean?”

She stopped to look at him, surprised.

“Well, if I tell them the truth about everything, I’ll have to tell them you knew everything from the start. You and I know it was only for their own good that you didn’t expose me, but they... You’ll be pulled into this inevitably. Things will likely be horrible for you for a while, maybe you’ll even lose some friends. Nino, Alya, Chloé... I don’t think they’ll understand you were doing the right thing.”

His mind was running wild. No! He already had them badmouthing Chat Noir in front of him, he wouldn’t be able to bear it if they hated him as Adrien too!

“Lila, wait!”, he called when she moved to walk on. “Maybe... Maybe there’s another way. To keep everyone calm. We can think of something, I’ll help you!”

She smiled.

“You would do that for me? You’re so sweet.”

Her eyes glistened eagerly.

“I think I already have an idea.”

“How are you feeling?”, Felix asked her. They stood in front of the classroom, hesitating to go inside. But Marinette had enough of fearing confrontation. Chat, Adrien, Lila, all of them were people she didn’t want to run from anymore. It was time to walk her way and hope that her friends would have her back. But she was through with waiting for problems to resolve on their own.

“Well enough.”, she replied. “And you?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t remember much of what happened, and I generally don’t care what others think of me. But...”

He sighed.

“I did hurt people. Not consciously, but it still happened because of me.”

Marinette couldn’t say anything against that, so she simply took his hand. Whether for his comfort or her own, she didn’t know.

“Come on.”, she said. “I’m sure they’ll understand, and... It’s not like Lila will be a problem anymore, at least! So let’s get this over with.”

With that, she opened the door and walked inside. Only to see Lila surrounded by their classmates.

“Marinette!”, she called. “Just in time. I was just telling everyone how Ladybug saved me again, yesterday.”

Marinette felt her eyes twitch.

“Ladybug- You- I-“, she pressed out, wanting to throttle her. How was it possible that she just sat here as if nothing happened?! Things were supposed to be different now!

Felix nudged her hand and she looked up to him. He nodded at the rest of the class with his chin, and her eyes followed his gesture. They weren’t hanging on her every word as she had feared. No, Chloé wasn’t even listening, filing her nails with an occasional roll of her eyes. Alya sat next to an angry Nino, arms crossed. Juleka’s eyes were shooting daggers at Lila.

All in all, the class looked suspicious. Not enthralled and excited, but almost annoyed. An improvement!

“Ya better hurry to give us a damn good explanation, girl!”, Alya growled. “Because I have Lb’s statement on video, and I won’t hesitate to post it online!”

Lila gave her a surprised glance.

“What are you talking about? Did I do something wrong?”

Nino glowered at her.

“That’s a damn bold question, Lie-la! Ladybug told us everything.”

His girlfriend raised her phone, playing Ladybug’s fight against Sentiquill.

“But fine!”, Marinette heard her alter ego shout. “If it makes you happy!” Then she started to rant about Lila, who looked suspiciously calm.

“Well”, she shrugged when the sequence was over, “she really went all out, didn’t she?”

“What do you mean?”

Lila chuckled.

“I mean, just look at her face! So disdainful, so authentic! A great actress, really!”

Alya faltered a bit.

“Actress?”

“Of course!”, she laughed. “Ladybug was obviously trying to placate Sentiquill, as we all know Felix doesn’t like me since our little misunderstanding. A bummer it didn’t work, but I guess she isn’t perfect either.”

She sighed and straightened herself.

“Ladybug told me to flee, since the Akuma was after me specifically. I would have stayed with you otherwise, and helped to defend you against Sentiquill. But she knew if I was nearby, he’d go after me and then Ladybug would be distracted. She cares so much about me, her worry for my wellbeing would have interfered with her ability to think straight.”

Alya frowned.

“How do we know this isn’t another lie? It’s your word against Ladybug’s, and you haven’t proven anything!”

Pondering, Lila tapped her finger against her chin.

“Hm, let’s see... Adrien! You saw us; you can be my witness, right?”

Everybody turned around and Marinette’s eyes widened. Adrien stood at the window, looking weary but determined. Surely he wouldn’t... He had covered for Lila before, true, but to lie on her behalf...

Her hopes sunk when he avoided eye contact with her.

“It’s true.”, he stated flatly. “I saw them talk after the battle. Ladybug...” He gulped. “Ladybug apologized for saying all these things, but it was only to protect her.”

“That’s not true!”, Marinette howled furiously. “What are you even saying, Adrien?!”

He looked away, pouting.

“Stop shouting at me. It’s the truth! I saw them when I was on my way... on my way-“

“-to accompany me to Jagged Stone!”, Lila finished for him, a smug look on her face. “I invited him along because he was so rattled after the akuma attack. To cheer him up! Jagged is the best when it comes to lighten the mood, right, Adrien?”

“Uh... yeah!”, the blond agreed hesitantly, obviously confused. “Totally! I, er, can confirm.”

Marinette’s eyes burned into his spineless figure, seething with rage. This had been his chance. For someone that preferred inactivity when it came to his friends, he was all too quick to stand up for a liar.

“So... it was all true?”, Alya dared to hope. “You really are Ladybug’s friend, and you know Jagged Stone?”

“Don’t forget Prince Ali, but yes. I’d never lie to you, Alya!”, Lila reassured. “Everything I said is true.”

Felix took a step forward, opening his mouth to protest, but Marinette put her hand on his chest to stop him.

“Don’t.”, she whispered, forcibly cooling down her anger to a simmering hatred. “They win this round.”

Everything Felix could say now would only further Lila’s victim role, and they had no proof right now. It would be a waste of time.

Felix clenched his teeth, but nodded. To their surprise, the others weren’t done yet.

“I don’t believe you.”, Juleka mumbled and Lila’s face fell.

“What did you just say?”

“I said, I don’t believe you!”, the goth shouted, startling everyone. Rose was clutching her hand like a lifeline as her girlfriend looked up, tears in her eyes. “When Sentiquill went after Rose, Ladybug didn’t hesitate to do the logical thing and save me first, even if that meant making herself vulnerable. I know she cares about Rose, but when push came to shove, she was still able to think tactical. God knows I didn’t like her decision, but it was what saved both of us.”

Lila narrowed her eyes.

“Juleka, you sound like you wanted her to sacrifice Rose! Do you really care so little about-“

“Shut up!”, Rose cried out. Marinette wasn’t sure she had ever seen her this upset. “That’s not what she meant, and you know it!”

“Are you two calling me a liar?”

Juleka shot her a glare.

“I’m saying that I trust Ladybug. She’s able to do her job, no matter the circumstances and who might be at stake. She cares about all of us and doesn’t play favorites. If your word’s against hers, we know where we’ll stand.”

She nudged Rose, who nodded. Together they walked towards the door, but stopped when they passed Marinette and Felix.

“I don’t blame you for anything.”, Rose murmured to him so that only they could hear it. “I know what it feels like to be controlled like that. To be forced to hurt people you care about. We’re all used to it by now, you’re not alone.”

Then they walked out.

The class only recovered slowly. Many regarded Lila with distrust, most were unsure. Even Alya, who was only too desperate to believe Lila, had her doubts.

Felix gave her an encouraging smile.

“Looks like things are in motion.”

Marinette nodded, tearing her gaze from Adrien.

“I think it’s time to move on as well.”, she confessed. “To leave old burdens behind.”

She thought of Chat Noir.

“To make a clear cut.”

Marinette was busy this afternoon.

Doing homework.

Changing her computer’s background.

Putting the finishing touch on the cravat she designed for Felix.

Feeding Tikki a macaron she’d made for Adrien.

Preparing an outline for her report.

Ripping Adrien’s pictures off her wall.

Playing video games with her parents.

Taking the chest with her gifts for Adrien to Prince Ali’s charity for sick children.

Calling Felix.

Clearing her calendar of Adrien’s appointments.

Crying a bit.

Calling Felix again.

Feeling better.

When it was evening, she finally ran out of things to do. And that meant, she had nothing to distract her from her own thoughts. That wouldn’t do.

“I’m going out for a walk!”, she told her parents as she bounced down the stairs, nearly tripping over her own feet.

“Be careful!”, her mother replied and waved. “And be back before dinner!”

“Don’t you want to take something to eat with you? Or a jacket? Or-“

“Tom.”

“Oh, right. Uh, have fun!”

Marinette chuckled at her parents difference. She’d always wanted to be in a relationship like theirs: one of mutual respect, but with room for silliness and fun. To have someone that was so different from her, but shared enough of her passions and values to match. A partnership of equals, that wouldn’t waver or fade when things got difficult. Someone who inspired her to grow. Someone who wasn’t afraid to learn from her as well.

She had thought that was Adrien. Part of her might even have considered Chat Noir - the yin yang symbolic hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. But her mother had explained her for what the Taijitu truly stood: not an eternal battle of opposites, but the harmonic completion of two contrasts, the ever changing nature of the world. Chat Noir wasn’t someone who completed her, and neither was Adrien. They had only brought her misery when they should have supported her.

She sighed as she walked through the park, the half moon rising above her. Black and white.

Her mother had often used the Taiji symbol to comfort her when she’d had one of her streaks of bad luck. It’s natural to have a hard time once in a while, she’d said. But see? The darkness recedes eventually and makes room for the light. It’s a circuit, and soon things will get better for you as well. Until then? Just search for the tiny white dot. The beacon in the darkness, it’s there!

Marinette leaned her head back, watching the darkening sky.

The light in her darkness? That was Felix. The only constant support she had these days. The one whose mere presence cheered her up, gave her the strength to keep going. It was so weird, now that she thought about it. He was so... harsh. Like a bright fire that could blind and burn mercilessly, but somehow drew her in like a moth to his flame. Like the sun, that could bring people’s worst flaws to daylight, or illuminate strengths she hadn’t even known she had. He had been both demanding and eager to give, from the very beginning. Forcing her to put her self-imposed limits aside and stand up for herself, but supporting her when he knew she needed it. In return, he had opened himself to her, learned to trust and bond with others. She’d never been more proud than when he had befriended Aurore, despite their rocky start. Or when he tried to dial his bluntness down around Marc, because he knew the boy was sensitive.

He had impressed her. Everything about him was challenging and inspiring and soothing at once. She’d never liked herself more than when she was around him. And when she wasn’t, she found herself thinking about him constantly.

Even now, musing over their influence on each other brought a smile to her lips and lightened her steps until she all but floated through the park. Now that she thought about it, she liked the feeling a lot. More than a lot. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost say she lo-

“Marinette”, Tikki called her from her purse. “I sense someone. Wayzz is nearby!”

She looked up, searching the park for the familiar hawaiian shirt. Indeed, it was the guardian himself that stood in front of the fountain, hands clasped in front of him. Curious, she walked up beside him.

“Good evening, Master Fu!”, she greeted. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s the stomach?”

The elder man gave her a sullen side glance.

“I thought we had agreed to never talk of that again.”

She chuckled and followed his gaze to the fountain.

“Did we? I don’t recall!”

He didn’t smile, but his wrinkled forehead relaxed a bit. Weird. Usually, he was a lot more eager to joke around, given he had so little company to do that with.

“Is something the matter? You look upset.”

Fu sighed.

“Sharp as always. I am concerned for you, for Ladybug’s safety.”

Her face grew serious.

“That’s a concern I can understand.”, she muttered. “I nearly died yesterday. It was that close!”

Fu nodded.

“I saw.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything?”, she snapped, forgetting herself. “I needed help, and you could have given that to me!”

Her master lowered his head, eyes fixed on the water.

“Because I am weak.”, he admitted. “And a coward. And not the guardian you deserve.”

He looked so old when he rubbed his forehead, almost ancient.

“In my defense, if I had known the situation was this terrible, I would have taken the miracle box with me. Or at least the Turtle, Fox or Bee. Alas, I was only aware of Chat Noir’s miraculous turning dark, and thought that we would be enough to handle him. I didn’t expect the akuma.”

“Wait...”, she slowed him down. “Chat’s Miraculous was abused? Like... Like the butterfly is?”

Fu didn’t answer. Instead, he raised his hand to reveal what he held inside. A black ring, complete with a familiar green paw print.

“His miraculous!”, she whispered in awe, then turned towards the guardian. “What did you do?! When did you do that?”

“Immediately after you purified Sentiquill’s akuma.”, he stated wearily. “And that was already far too late. I should have taken it after Syren, Frozer maybe. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

She felt a pang in her chest that she had lost her partner of almost a year, but it was overshadowed by an euphoric sense of relieve. She hadn’t noticed how much Chat had troubled her until she didn’t have to worry about him anymore. No more fear to hurt his feelings, no more dancing around the truth to avoid upsetting him. No more tantrums and reckless sacrifices. No more pressure to feel something she just... didn’t.

“I want you to have it.”, Fu continued and raised his hands when she wanted to protest. “Not for yourself, of course! Marinette, I have chosen solitude as the safest way to protect the miraculous, and for a while, it worked. But times changed.”

He breathed out, his posture slouching in shame.

“Times changed, and I didn’t. Chat Noir is the proof that I am no longer fit to distribute powers like his. But you? You have proven time and again that your trust in others is well deserved, that your choices are wise.”

His voice was full of warmth and trust.

“You have to be the one to choose a new partner, Ladybug.”, he announced firmly. “Someone you can trust not to disappoint you. It’s about time you get a say in this, don’t you think?”

She stared at the ring, so caught up in an electrifying kind of awe that she couldn’t really process his words. This was the Miraculous of destruction, the other half to her powers. If she took it, she would hold more power in her hands than should be humanly possible. What if something happened to her? What if she lost it, what if Hawkmoth got his hands on it? As long as it had no wielder, it would remain in this state and show its true colors. Everyone would be able to recognize it!

“A-are you sure you want me to have this?”, she asked with a trembling voice. Master Fu smiled.

“I have made a lot of reckless decisions. This is not one of them.”

He held the ring out to her.

“I trust you, Marinette. And I know Ladybug will chose better than I did.”

Hesitantly, carefully as if it might burn her, she took the Miraculous from his hands. It was warm in her hands, as if it were alive.

“I won’t disappoint you.”, she promised Fu, her eyes blazing with determination. She wouldn’t take this lightly, wouldn’t fail him. This time, her Chat Noir would be a hero.

- - -

Phew, done. I don't know much about Daoism, and only just started to research the philosophy behind yin and yang (or the Taijitu), but I really wanted Marinette to be more in touch with her heritage. Mama Cheng spilled her wisdom, and little Marinette sucked it up like a sponge.

#miramu writes #welcome to the back #wttb #felinette fanfic #felinette #miraculous ladybug #mlb #ml felix

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lu-undy · 4 years

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Fic request for whenever you like! Sniper and spy have been dating for a little while, and they've already had their first kiss, but one day Spy gently tries to french kiss him and he freaks out (and maybe runs off to the next room?) Because he's very insecure and never learned how to french kiss. Spy goes to check on him (naturally) and sniper is frantically apologizing over and over. Spy doesn't judge and calmly asks if the aussie wants him to teach him to kiss. (Ofc he says yes) 👀👀

Alright, a bit of a challenge this one, but I hope this will do :)

"Today has been a delight with you, Sniper."

"Yeah, same."

The marksman and the masked man were on the sofa, Spy leaning his head on his lover's shoulder. Sniper looked down at the older man and bent down. Their lips met quickly and the Australian was about to withdraw when the Frenchman's hand went around his neck and pulled him in to stay longer. Sniper gladly obliged.

"You are adorable." Spy said as their lips parted.

"Well, heh…" Sniper blushed.

"Even more so now that you blush."

"Ah, y-yeah, roight, I mean…"

"Hm…"

Spy snuggled up closer to his lover and put a hand on his chest, stroking him slowly.

"Sniper?"

"Yeah?"

"I cannot possibly get enough of you." He purred and slid his hand under his lover's shirt, between the buttons. The Australian felt his lover's cold fingers on his bare chest and shivered.

"M-me neither…"

To Spy's ears, it was a demand and the last thing he wanted was to make the Australian wait. So he raised his head and pushed himself up to his lover's lips. Sniper put his hands on the Frenchman's cheeks, pulling him closer.

They ended up bending so much that Sniper laid on the sofa on his back and his lover climbed on him.

"Mon Dieu, you make me feel decades younger."

"So do you."

Spy raised a questioning eyebrow to his friend and Sniper smiled.

"You're younger than I am."

"Yeah, it's true."

"Do you find that it is an issue?" Spy was resting on Sniper's chest.

"N-no, I mean, nah."

"You hesitate?"

"I… Uh…" The Australian brushed his thumbs on Spy's face, on his mask but mostly around his mouth, where his skin was bare. "I just love you with… With everythin'."

"So do I, Sniper. I love you with this…" Spy put his index on Sniper's forehead. "And with this…" He pointed at his chest. "And all the rest."

Sniper smiled so innocently, it warmed the Frenchman's heart.

"You are somethin' else…"

Spy wiggled his eyebrows.

"Had I said it, you would have complained that I was bragging."

"Of course I would!"

The Frenchman giggled and dived to his lover's lips.

"Viens ici, mon beau…"

[Come here, handsome…]

Their lips met again but this time both parties wanted it to last longer. After all, they were laying on the sofa, their legs mingled and their hands slid from clothes to faces to hair.

"Hmm…"

Oh that low, gravelly moan, that growl…! It punched Spy's insides and prompted him to go further. He had wanted it for quite some time.

As he took Sniper's upper lip, his tongue slowly slipped out and slithered delicately until it touched the Australian's.

"Huh?!"

Sniper gasped and pulled away instantly.

"What's the matter-oh?"

He pushed the Frenchman away and left the room as fast as a draft, leaving Spy confused and frowning.

"Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger…"

Sniper rushed out of the base and hid away in his van, locking it up. He caught his breath and looked around him. His bed, he needed his bed. He jumped up in it and hid under the cover, his breath still erratic, his heart beating fast.

Bugger, bugger, bugger… Bloody stupid me. It was bound to happen, of course it was… Can't keep it to just lip kisses, of course not, not with anyone, especially not with him…

"Sniper?"

The Frenchman's voice resounded from the other side of the van's door.

"Get lost!"

Spy rolled his eyes up and smiled.

"Fine, I will…" He walked away and Sniper relaxed.

He didn’t want Spy to see him that way and ask him why and how and whatnot. He needed to stay alone. He needed to go away from all that. It was too much, way too much. He even started to regret his relationship with the Frenchman. Could he walk away from it? Did he want it?

Of course not! He loved Spy, he really did. The flutters of his heart, the butterflies in his stomach, the feeling of being loved, that if anything happened, there was a person who would hold him in their arms. And what person! Spy bloody hell! A man so handsome and charming he could get anyone with as much as a snap of his fingers. And he was so respectful, he never rushed Sniper, he always went at the Aussie’s pace. They had been together for more than a month and that might have been the best month in Sniper’s life. The afternoons and evenings just laying lazily in Spy’s arms, or the other way around...

Sniper sighed.

“I can’t just tell him the truth. I can’t tell him that… that I’ve never kissed anyone that way before…”

“Of course you can tell me, and I can show you.”

Sniper froze in his bed. He removed the cover and out of a thin cloud of smoke, his lover appeared.

“What are you doing here?”

“Comforting you.”

“How did you get in?”

“Through the door.”

“It was locked!”

“Not anymore.”

Sniper sighed.

“Look, mon amour, I do not see any issue.”

“Well I do.”

“Come out of your bed. Please.”

“Do I have to?”

Spy gave him the raised eyebrow that said “Oui”.

“Alroight.”

The Australian climbed down of his bed and stood there awkwardly.

“Relax.” Spy purred as he got closer. But Sniper tensed up.

“I-I can’t.”

“Oui, you can.” As soon as Spy put his hands on the Australian’s cheeks, the latter melted. “Now, close your eyes and trust me.”

Sniper’s breath accelerated.

“Don’t worry, Sniper…”

“I-mh…” Spy slowly pushed his lips against his lover’s and the tall man felt his insides get hotter and hotter. The way that Spy was playing with his lips, tasting them lazily, was enough to make him lose his mind. The Aussie couldn’t resist anymore and put his hands on Spy’s sides, pulling him close and stroking with open palms. He needed to feel that all of his lover was for him, entirely and solely.

And he felt it. Spy did it again. He slowly gave a lick, quick and prude to his upper lip, just as a test. Sniper opened his eyes. He saw his lover with his eyes screwed shut. Spy looked focused, very much so. The Aussie parted.

“N-no, I can’t do this, it’s weird.”

Spy opened his light blue, almost grey eyes and looked up at him.

“I won’t force you if you don’t want it, but I would gladly show you more.”

“It’s not that I don’t want it, it’s uh… It’s weird, alright?”

“It is only as weird as you make it. It is however the most enjoyable in my opinion.”

“Can you, uh, explain it to me before you do it?”

Spy chuckled.

“This is not how it works, mon amour. An act of love you never explain. It’s a spark that sets you on fire only if all the conditions are met, otherwise, it burns you in the most uncomfortable fashion.”

“So you don’t want to tell me?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it can only be felt. Now, please, would you let me show you?”

Sniper looked uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to accept.”

“N-no. I trust you and I love you. If there’s ever someone I want to do this with, it’s with you.”

“You are sure?”

“Yeah, do it. I won’t back off.”

Sniper closed his eyes and pouted in an awkward and ridiculous way. Spy smiled and rolled his eyes before he took his lover by his lips once again. He removed his gloves and slid his hands on the Australian’s face, left and right, up along his cheeks until he reached his sideburns and hair.

The Australian couldn’t hold back his moans and he was in his van anyway, with no one around, so he let it all go and when Spy felt that his lover had forgotten, he gently stuck his tongue out. This time he went for it and massaged it against Sniper’s, lazily and lasciviously. He wanted to make the Aussie enjoy the full blown thing and he knew that he would like it. As always, the Frenchman turned to be right.

At first, Sniper didn’t know what to do with his tongue so he just left it there for Spy to do what he had to do. But he got curious and moved slightly. Instantly, Spy let a high-pitched moan out and it sawed Sniper’s ears in half, sending shivers everywhere and making his knees wobble. Suddenly he wanted more of it, more of that slick sensation that made him and his lover weak. So he gathered his courage and answered the Frenchman’s love with his own. And it got more intense on both parts.

Spy clenched his lover’s hair in his fingers while Sniper pulled his lover’s waist against his, now they could feel their lower abdomen against each other. Both moaned and breathed louder until Sniper finally broke the kiss.

He needed to land from his high. He needed some air.

“Woah… Spy…” The Aussie lowered his head and panted.

“Not bad for your first time.” The Frenchman arrogantly answered. “And I do believe you enjoyed this, non?”

“It was… bloody… amazin’...”

“I told you that you would like it. You see, these are things you cannot express into words. You have to live it and with the right person, it is a delight.”

“Bloody hell… Thanks for uh… Teachin’ me I guess.”

“I taught you nothing. You just discovered it with me.”

“It-it’s so strong… It’s like you weren’t kissin’ just my mouth but everything…!”

“Oh, I can easily show you how good that feels. But let us proceed slowly.”

“No.” Spy’s eyebrows jumped and he looked at his lover curiously. “I don’t care about slowly, I want you.”

Sniper latched on his lover again, pushing him powerfully against the opposite wall. The Frenchman’s back hit it with a thud and he welcomed his lover’s intimate intrusion with a roll of his eyes and long moan. Sniper drank it like a delicacy.

The night was long and despite the cold of the winter, the van was hot.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

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