#this could very well slot into the main

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 ✦

simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader (delta) | smut, 18+ | 4.1k

summary: you, soap and gaz make a silly bet at ghost's expense for an invaluable prize.

cw: mw3 spoiler free. 141 ridiculousness, humour, attempts to remove the mask resulting in life threatening (not really) injury, mild exhibitionism if you squint, very talkative ghost, 'interrogation' wink wink, unprotected p in v sex, reference to f receiving oral.

ghost mlist | main mlist | taglist

"Y'know, I'm sure as shit that L.t's got brown hair," Soap pipes up in the middle of the silence that had settled inside the safe house. 

The members of Task Force 141 glance up one by one, querying eyes cast Soap's way as the guesstimated observation hangs in the air. It's louder than chopper blades, thudding against your skull and roaring in your ears as you attempt to recall the information you have on Ghost, what little physical attributes you can attribute to him. Each time, you hit a brick wall. The only image conjured in your minds-eye is the black voids of the mask's eyes and the piercing amber of his irises. 

The wind howls outside, battering the windows with Wyoming snow and creeping in through the cracks in the panes. It makes a yowling sound as it slips through the crevices, carrying your memories of Ghost's appearance with it. He truly was like an apparition, there one moment, then gone altogether. 

Gaz's brows crease in the middle, little crevices in the skin showing his mind working over the sentence. 

"He doesn't," he eventually retorts, eyebrow cocked while shaking his head, "He's blonde." 

"What makes you say that?" Price scoffs at his colleague's certainty, "You ever seen his face?"

The silence that follows makes the Captain chuckle. A wordless 'that's what I thought'. 

"You willin' to bet on that?" Soap pushes Gaz with a lopsided smirk. There it is, that ridiculous playfulness that the Scotsman continuously let slip over coms. Simon had once reprimanded him for how it would get him killed– you were almost certain if he continued down this path in particular, he'd be in a box by daylight.

"I am," Gaz counters thoughtlessly, a smug lilt to his tone as he leans the crown of his head back against the rotting wooden wall, "He's got blonde eyelashes. He's gonna have blonde hair."

"What're ya gettin' so close tae him for?" Soap grins wide, loading the new ammunition and hitting a bullseye on the first shot, "You been snoggin' him or somethin'?"

"Lads," Price warns. It's only one word, but it says a lot; 'he'll have your head.' All of you know Simon 'Ghost' Riley well enough to know it's not a joke. Seen enough of the mangled bodies he left behind to know it wouldn't be clean, either. More like he'd hack your skull from your neck, picking out the dullest blade that'd struggle to slot between vertebrae.  

"Bets on, then," Soap continues, white teeth gleaming in the low light, "First to confirm gets the honour of shootin' Hassan between the eyes." 

It's like throwing a match at a body doused in diesel. 

                           ✰

The parameters of this wager are as follows... First: the competition is between you, Soap and Gaz. Price was ruled automatically exempt the moment he admitted he had, indeed, seen Ghost's face. It was a revelation that caused quite a storm- and a promise from Gaz of £100 if he'd tell.

The Captain, quite frankly, told him where to stick it. 

Second: None of you could just ask Ghost himself. That was boring; no fun in that. 

Thirdly, there are no other rules. Acquire the information by any means necessary to claim victory. Perhaps this rule should have been revised- because to say that 141's tactics for getting Ghost to reveal his face were a little unorthodox is an understatement of the highest order. 

Despite his hulking frame, Ghost is like a cunning fox, cognizant of even the slightest changes in energy and hypervigilant of those approaching. The midnight void of his grease paint that frames his eyesockets contrasts the whites of his eyes as they dart back and forth between you all. He appears to have noted the devious scheming, practically hearing the cogs turning in your heads the moment he returned from his watch. Something is amiss, and you know Ghost knows it. 

He says nothing. 

Day One; the grumpy, black-clad special ops soldier sits back in his seat as he crosses his arms over his vast chest, cautiously observing the minute movements the three of you made. He'd bristled when Gaz stood from the sofa simply to enter another room, poised and ready to pounce at whatever fuckery the younger soldier would attempt. 

"Hey, L.t.," Soap's drawl cuts through the humorously tense atmosphere in the room, and you brace yourself for his master plan. "When was the last time ye got a haircut?"

Ghost hesitates. Waits a beat. The silence stretches almost uncomfortably until he answers, thick, bassy voice almost booming in the box room. "What're you playin' at, Johnny?"

Soap shrugs his shoulders, exuding complete nonchalance as he settles into the seat across the table from the hulking mass of man. "Just wondered if the mask ever came off. How do you cut your hair?"

Amusement ripples through you in the sound of a chuckle, both men glancing your way. Ghost peers at you, suspicion pooling thick in his pupils. 

"Shave it," Ghost rumbles bluntly, with an air of finality that leaves no room for argument or for Soap to encourage him to try something stupid like curtain bangs or, God forbid, a mohawk. 

You can't help but grin from ear to ear as you watch the Scotsman's shoulders slump in defeat, already waving a white flag upon seeing how unwilling Ghost is to play whatever stupid game you're all partaking in. Even you can't deny the anxiety that prickles across your nerve endings when you see the way Ghost's biceps flex beneath the camo fabric of his uniform, primed for action. 

When Ghost's aqua irises slide to you, your shoulders shrug comically, putting on the performance of your life to appear as though you had no idea what Johnny was up to. You see the way Ghost's blacked-out eyelids squint in suspicion. He doesn't believe you, but doesn't say as much. 

Day Three and the polite, roundabout tactics had been discarded in favour of the nuclear option. Gaz had tried ambushing Ghost in the shower, opening the door without knocking as if pretending he didn't know the Lieutenant was in there. The door slammed so quickly into his head that an egg had been steadily growing on his forehead for the past hour and a half, blood seeping from his almost certainly broken nose. 

"You'll stay out next time, Bravo 2-6, if you know what's good for you," Ghost had growled through the crack in the door before shutting it with a click of the lock. 

Holding his face and slinking away, mortally wounded, Gaz uttered a humiliated 'Yes, lieutenant'. 

Soap, clearly not having learnt from poor Gaz, decided that the next best option was a trip, so to speak. Executing a ludicrously overexaggerated stumble, Johnny reached out to grab Ghost's mask to 'steady himself' and ultimately drag it from his superior's head. 

Ghost had leapt from his seat with a roar, threatening to send Sergeant MacTavish back to Scotland in a box with the Saltire draped across the lid. The standoff only settled upon Captain Price's barked orders to stand down or hang up the uniform. 

By Day Six, Ghost had bruised your opponent's egos enough that neither Soap nor Gaz dared attempt to peek beneath the mask again. They look at you like you're absolutely bonkers when you finally announce it's your turn to try and tame the beast. 

"Yer fuckin' mad, hen," Johnny grumbled, watching you observe Ghost from across the room. He'd settled on a chair in the corner of the room, ensuring no one could sneak up on him. "You can't seriously be plannin' on-"

"I want Hassan," you shrug, a smile playing on your lips. Though, at this rate, you couldn't care less about the terrorist and the honour of dispatching him. No, Ghost had made this ridiculous game far more competitive than needed, and you planned to win.

"Have fun," Gaz scoffed bitterly, still icing the blotchy green and purple bruise that had welted on his forehead as a medal of dis-honour. You hadn't exactly helped the healing process, poking it harshly with the pad of your thumb as you laughed at his mortifying misfortune. 

You wait patiently for Ghost to move, like a stake out on a mission. Lying in plain sight in a ghillie suit, a sniper rifle pointed right between his eyes and your finger on a hairpin trigger. You wait for him to break, for exhaustion to creep in. Thankfully, you don't have to wait long. The Lieutenant rises from his chair, announcing to 141 that he's headed to bed. 

A quiet mumble of 'goodnight' from each member grants him leave, and Ghost walks out of the room without further word. You waste no time in hurrying to your feet. 

"Are you gonna...-" Soap winces when you stand, trailing off when you start after Ghost, not allowing either of your colleagues to talk you out of this suicide mission. 

Though, the moment you turn the corner, you wish you had. Ghost's broad frame practically fills the narrow hallway like someone had plucked Everest from Nepal and shoved its hulking mass into a matchbox. He's ginormous, his usually silent footsteps causing the aged, rotting wood beneath the soles of his boots to creak with the weight he applies when he turns to face you. 

The dark hallway obscures Ghost's skull-face mask, but a glittering reflection of the golden light bleeding from the bulb in the living room area flickers across the wet surface of his eyes as he observes you. You can't allow the weighty pressure of his stare to phase you if you're to push ahead with your plan- so you step forward, swallowing down the nerves that Ghost's attention inevitably dredges up. 

"Lieutenant, sir," you address him smoothly, voice low as you gaze up at him through your lashes. Ghost's eyebrow arches in response, noting your somewhat suggestive behaviour. "Permission to spea-"

"I'm hopin' you'll tell me what you're all up to," his eyes spear your nerve as he interrupts you, "They're not lettin' up, but I'll get it outta you one way or another." 

"What... Did you have in mind?" You chance, heart slamming up against your chest when you realise just how obvious you're being. It's dangerous- you hadn't planned to be so forward. The idea that he'd be able to read your flirting so soon set off mortars in your veins. 

There's a pause. It dizzies you, throwing your previously sturdy confidence off kilter when Ghost tilts his masked head slightly. He's turning it over in his mind, considering the past few days' events. Then, he turns everything on its side. 

"I know what you're doing," he speaks suddenly, the rich baritone of his voice ricocheting off the walls and ringing in your ears like he's just discharged a round of ammo with each syllable. You jerk upright, standing to attention. 

"I don't know what you m-"

"You want the mask off," he interrupts you again, cutting your pathetic excuse short as he steps forward. It's ridiculous, the sheer size of him as he looms over you. "You lot made a bet."

Another beat. Ghost waits for a response, an admission of guilt. It feels like he's cornered you; every answer that springs to mind is incriminating. You know he can see your rueful expression, wide-eyed and panicked by the ease with which he puts you on the ropes. 

"Was this your plan?" He murmurs, reaching to grasp your chin. His palm settles on the hollow of your jaw, fingers fanning out across the bone. "Get me into bed and see if I'll take it off?"

Trembling in his hold, you whimper as Ghost's thumb stretches across to trace the curve of your lip. It follows the delicate arc, lining the shape of your mouth and trailing the dip of your cupid's bow. 

"'M sorry," you mumble weakly, cheeks hot beneath his touch. Again, you fold beneath the intensity of those honeyed irises. It's a miracle your knees don't buckle when he pushes the pad of his thumb just past your lips, so that it brushes the edges of your teeth. 

"That was your plan. Y'can still give it a try, love. But..." he hums, his voice throaty and quiet and settling in the pit of your stomach. It's embarrassing, the ease with which he figures you out, but his words drip over you, easy and warm, and all you can focus on is the slip of his thumb as he presses the pad against the flat of your tongue. 

"The mask stays on." 

Ghost’s insistence makes you giggle sheepishly and your stomach flip in dread, like a child caught with its hand down a bear trap. Despite the lewdness of him pushing his thumb past your lips, you know that he’s being serious, deathly so. You nod clumsily in recognition of his executive order, and Ghost gently taps the skin of your cheek with his free hand, the soft slap of his palm against your flesh standing your hair on end.

“Go.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighing heavily in the claustrophobic space of the small hallway. It takes a moment for your mind, rendered utterly useless by Ghost’s imposing presence, to understand exactly what he’s implying. Only when he removes his thumb from your mouth to shove you forward towards a bedroom door does his intention become clear.

Oh. Oh!

Scrambling to force your feet forward, they practically float across the threshold of the bedroom door. You can feel Ghost looming just behind you, can practically feel the heat radiating from his chest warming the expanse of your back. Fingers clasp over your shoulder, practically swallow the curved flesh, and shove you back against the bedroom wall.

The force of impact winds you, the air expelled from your lungs swallowed down by Ghost’s lips bearing heavily down upon your own. He’d ripped the mask upwards, the hem of the ski-mask balanced across the bridge of his nose. Simon’s tongue licks into your mouth– intrudes upon the space like he’s kicking down a door, like he’s swallowing the breath he’d expelled from you with his heavy hand. 

Once the dazed dizziness dissipates, you moan in relief at finally getting what you wanted. Ghost’s gigantic paw takes hold of your jaw in a firm grip to fit his mouth perfectly against your own, his swirling fingerprints indenting in the soft flesh there in a mottled bruise. The soft pine he coaxes from you bleeds past your open mouth despite your attempt to suppress the frankly pathetic noise. 

Fuck it, this was worth it– all of it was worth it. The fear of getting it wrong, the anxiety of being caught, the panic that Simon could turn you away… All of it seeps into the darkness in the corners of the room when your superior drags his tongue across your lower lip. It’s though he’s relishing in the taste of the aftershocks of the arousal he sparks between your legs, the dopamine that rushes through you.

“Was this your plan?” Ghost grunts, grasping ahold of the scruff of your neck. Gasping weakly, you’re almost certain your eyes roll back in your head when he uses his harsh grip to steer you towards the bed. “Get me out of my fuckin’ mind so I don’t notice you takin’ off the mask?”

“That’s–” you huff, rendered breathless by Ghost’s intruding tongue, “That’s not it–”

Your pitiful attempt to excuse yourself is made useless when Ghost practically launches you onto the mattress of his bed, the rusted metal frame screaming under the sudden weight of your body. 

“No?” he queries, the usual boom of authority in his voice replaced by something that sounds far more like goading amusement as he places the hefty weight of his palm against your sternum, holding you down and thwarting any attempt to escape. 

He needn’t worry. The last thing you wanted was to leave. 

“Tell you what,” he muses in that smug tone you always hear over the comms, his free hand quick to grasp at the leather of his belt. The buckle clinks in the quiet as he works his fingers over it, “We’ll run through this mission, yeh? See if you can complete your objective, Delta?”

Your retort, or lack thereof, dies in your throat when Ghost pushes his crotch into your own. If it weren’t for the yelp of bliss that the Lieutenant had to smother with his palm, you’d hear the way he’d practically purred when he dragged his cock against you. 

“C’mon then. Try it,” he urged. 

It’s pointless, his mock-support. You just desperately reach for the waistband of his khaki uniform trousers, cockdrunk from the tease of its shape against you. Even in the low light, you can see Ghost’s scarred lips, the way they stretch into a smirk at your desperation. 

“Abandoning mission, Sergeant?” He asks you, unzipping his trousers. “Price’ll be disappointed to know this is all it takes for Delta to go AWOL.”

“Shut up,” you moan into the cold air of the cabin. You can see your breath. “Shut up and fuck me.”

When Simon removed himself from his trousers, making some glib comment about you being demanding, you marvel at the size of him. Girthy, swollen, the ruddy tip leaks precum down the arch of his cock and traces the pulsing veins. He’s rock hard and throbbing, framed by a thatch of pubic hair. 

Fumbling with your own trousers, you awkwardly try to remove them given Simon’s weighty palm still pins you down by your sternum. He watches, a glint in his eye in the low light that would almost embarrass you if you weren’t so focused on the task at hand. 

“What was the prize?” 

“H-Huh?” you stall, mind fried by Ghost’s unexpected line of enquiry. He picks up where you left off, violently yanking your trousers down your thighs and pushing your panties aside to expose your glistening cunt to his prying eyes. 

“What. Was. The. Prize?”

You hesitate for a moment, feeling Ghost’s fingers press against the inside of your thighs as he probes this unexplored territory of you. His touch skirts the areas you want him most, teasing and goading you for more information. “H-Hassa-ahh!”

You barely manage the first syllable of your answer before Simon rests the arch of his cock against your slick pussy lips. His body jerks slightly at the heat of your swollen cunt, the ease with which he can slide himself through your drenched sex. 

“You got to kill Hassan?” he asked for confirmation, his voice unwavering. You wonder how he manages to stay so steady– you’re coming apart at the seams, trembling as the head of his cock bumps your clit clumsily. 

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes rolling back as he continues his laboured, steady torture. His free hand settles on your hip, arching your pelvis up slightly to meet his own. You grind your hips upward against his cock, and Simon expels a soft scoff from lungs, those piercing eyes settled on your contorting expression. 

“Mhmm,” he hums, rolling his hips again. This time it’s even slower, teasing. “A temptin’ reward–” 

Simon is interrupted by the moan that splits your lips when he drags the length of his cock heavily against your clit. It sparks arousal deep in your abdomen, clings to the inside of your thighs wetly. 

Perhaps the disturbance is one transgression too many tonight, because Simon grasps your hips so hard that you are forced to stop gliding over the length of his cock. You pine in protest, but you choke on the pitiful sound when Ghost suddenly plunges his cock inside of you. It spears you open, breaks you apart, and you find your back arching desperately against the mattress. 

The palm that had rooted itself to your sternum flies up to clasp against your mouth, smothering the shriek of bliss that threatened to expose your extracurricular activities to the rest of your squad. You sob through your teeth beneath his life line, tears welling in your eyes as you feel him stretch your walls open to make room for his intrusion. 

You can’t help yourself. You need something to grasp onto, and opt for his wrist above your face. Digging your nails into the inked flesh there, you watch as the pain sparks something dark and twisted in Simon’s pupils, his azure irises swallowed by the expanding blackness.

He likes it. You can tell. His cock arches up inside of you, pushing deep and rocking against something earth shattering inside of you. Damp with sweat already, the skin of his wrist ripples as he tightens his grip on your face, refusing to withdraw from your pussy walls and instead opting for sharp, shallow thrusts that push you up the mattress with each connection of your hips. 

“Fuck,” he spits, using his tight grasp to pull you back towards him. It’s obliterating you, ripping you apart and pushing all your pieces back together in a mangled, jumbled mess. You whimper as you suffer through his brutal pace, marvelling at how good it feels when he consistently spears your g-spot. 

“When would you have done it?” Simon asks you, a little breathless now as he chases the high that begins to build at the edges of your body, tingling and pulsing. 

“Shut up–” you beg him, the low rasp of his voice launching you towards that pleasure that threatens to consume you. Jerking your hips up to meet his, your body mindlessly reacts to the sound of his timbre. 

“Oh, no,” he chuckles, shaking his half masked face. There’s a silver laden scar that stretches across the base of his chin. It matches the one that splits his upper lip to the base of his nose, the ski mask hovering tantalisingly over the bridge. “When?” 

The seriousness of his tone makes your thighs quiver when paired with the sharp thrust he punctuates his question with. Years of training in maintaining a cover-story while a hostage are blown to bits as though Ghost has launched a mortar at your resolve, because suddenly all your state secrets are spilling out of you quicker than you can shove the incriminating words back into your traitor mouth. 

“I’d– Hagh… I’d do it j-just as you’re cummin–hhah!”

“And spoil my fun?” Ghost hums, that heavy timbre licking up your spine and sparking viscous embers at the base of your spine, “Anyone ever told you that you’re very fuckin’ selfish, Delta?” 

You’d offer a witty comment, but Ghost’s angled his hips just right, and your jaw is falling loose to let out a panicked whimper. 

“There it is, shit. Look at you, Sargeant. Fuckin’, you’re so tight–” 

You’re like a slip knot, tightening around him further with each knock of your g-spot with Simon’s ridiculously large cock-head. Prickling tears of bliss threaten to spill over the edge of your waterline, continuing to sting even when you shut your eyes. You’re shaking, trembling beneath his rocking hips as you mewl his name. 

“S-Simon! Fuck–”

Wild, wet squelches of Simon sinking into your soaked cunt echo in your skull as he ramps up his violent thrusts, the springs of his mattress screaming an unmistakable rhythm to anyone walking by. He doesn’t seem to care now though, his eyes zeroed in on your expression like he’s stalking a victim with his sniper scope. Aiming for complete obliteration. 

“C’mon Can feel you squeezin’ round me,” he murmurs, the steady tone he’d offered earlier shuddering slightly as you squeeze impossibly tight around him, coil threatening to snap, “You’re so close, Delta. C’mon, paint my cock an’ I’ll eat you out with my cum in you–” 

                           ✰

“He’s blonde.” 

Gawping jaws drop to the floor at your very simple observation, Soap’s eyes nearly rolling across the uneven, rotten floorboards after falling out of his skull. You can’t help the smug smile that threatens to tug at the edge of your lips, especially given the sensation of Ghost’s eyes boring holes into the back of your skull. 

The awe only worsens when Price gives a subtle nod of confirmation from the corner of the darkened room, crowning you the winner of this utterly ridiculous joust. 

“How do you know?” Gary is as shaken as Soap by the confidence with which you’d offered your final answer, in disbelief as to how you could have possibly obtained it without being maimed, given the egg on his forehead was still throbbing despite days of icing it with the snow from outside the safehouse.

“His pubes are. I assume the curtains match the drapes,” you shrug dismissively. 

The sheer incredulity that flashes across Johnny’s face is utterly hilarious. The smirk that had been threatening to break finally cracks across your lips at the confirmation of your victory. Ghost’s eyes appear to have lazered through your skull, singing brain matter with the ferocity of his scowl. Frankly, you couldn’t care less– you can see it in your mind's eye; the gorgeous contrast of a blood-red crosshair settling across Hassan’s forehead, the weight of the trigger beneath your finger as you pull it back.

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[ilovepedro]

soft side | joel miller x f!reader

Valentine’s Masterlist | Main masterlist | Palestine

Please take some time to go through the Palestine links. If enjoy my writing, I ask you to help Palestine in any way you can.

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2.5k

Summary: You and Joel enjoy a quiet Valentine’s Day.

Warnings: no outbreak AU, pwp, established relationship, fluff, oral (f!receiving), fingering, squirting, cum eating, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), creampie, praise kink, pet names (baby, darlin’, good girl), after care, reader has no description, no mention of hair type/body type/skin color, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: i haven’t written Joel in ages, so i’m a little nervous i can’t lie. i do have a dbf fic in the works for him, but he’s very intimidating since he’s so well-loved. i hope i did him justice 😭 anyway, i hope y’all enjoy! thank you for reading! as always, not beta’d - all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @saradika-graphics

His truck is parked in the driveway. He’s home before you, something out of the ordinary with work being so busy all the time. You park your sedan beside his pickup and gather your belongings before heading to the front door. It’s oddly quiet as you shuck off your boots and toss your keys on its respective hook, save for the record player going in the living room.

Warmth glows throughout the house, painting the walls in a sepia hue.

Sauntering into the dining room, you spot a vase of tulips sitting atop the dining table. A card sits beside it, his chicken scratch scribbled inside.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. Thank you for loving me and the girls the way you do. Don’t know what I did to deserve you. I love you.

-Love, J”

Your heart flutters at Joel’s sweet message, knowing he isn’t typically one for declarations. Rustling comes from the garage door, Joel trudging in with a bottle of that sweet wine you like.

“Hey, cowboy,” you mutter, grinning ear-to-ear. His head snaps up, a goofy grin crinkling his features. 

“Hey, baby. Didn’t even hear ya come in. How long you been home?”

“Just got in.”

You waltz towards him as he sets the wine down on the table. His arms wrapping around you. 

It’s instinctual.

Slotting your arms around his neck, you meet him halfway into a soft kiss. Melting into him, mindlessly carding your fingers through his hair as you kiss him sweetly, slowly – something you haven’t had a chance to do very often lately. Savoring every bit of him he has to offer.

“Hmm. It’s quiet. What’d you do to our girls, Miller?” You ask against his lips, Joel chuckling into you.

“At the movies with Tommy. Slipped him somethin’ so we could have the house to ourselves tonight. Should be back ‘round 9. ‘S a school night, but just wanted some time with my valentine,” Joel mumbles, his chocolate irises meeting your gaze.

Smirking, you hum in approval. 

“Smart man,” you murmur before crashing your lips against his.

“Mhmm,” Joel agrees as he grins into the kiss. Both of you chuckling at his conniving plan. 

“Missed you, cowboy. I feel like we haven’t had a moment alone in a while,” you utter as he places tender kisses on the column of your throat.

“Mmm. Missed you too, baby. Feel like I haven’t seen ya in ages,” he says into your skin, the two of you mindlessly swaying to the record playing in the living room. Unable to contain your laughter, Joel snaps his head up - his signature scowl returning.

“What’s so funny, darlin’?” He asks, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Nothing. You’re just… you're so… I like when you’re soft,” you timidly murmur in between giggles. His brows scrunch further, smirk pulled into a thin line.

“Soft? The hell you talkin’ about, darlin’?” Joel asks in genuine confusion.

“It’s not a bad thing, Joel. You’re just… real soft when it comes to me and the girls. It’s sweet,” you explain. He grunts.

Typical Joel.

“Well you three are the only people I care about,” he mumbles, his kisses resuming, nibbling on your neck. He draws out a breathy chuckle from you as your resolve slowly starts to crumble.

“Come on, Joel. I gotta make dinner,” you whisper, no conviction in your voice.

“Mmmm. ‘S alright. Already ordered us somethin’. ‘Sides - rather have dessert right now,” he rasps against your lips before smashing them together again. The kiss grows sloppy, heady, full of tongue and teeth. You moan into his mouth, feeling drunk just off his touch. He cups the back of your head while squeezing your waist with his other hand, leading you out of the kitchen.

“Lemme have my dessert first, baby,” he mutters before dragging you up the stairs. Drunk giggles bubble from your lips as he leads you to your shared room. Flinging the door open, Joel tosses you on the bed, diving into your neck as he litters kisses along your throat. 

He nips at the spot beneath your ear, earning him a breathy moan. Soothing his bite marks with his tongue, he fumbles with the hem of your blouse. He tosses it over your head as you fiddle with the buttons on his flannel. 

His rough hands undo the clasp of your bra, a moan breaching his chest as your breasts spill out of the cups. You slide off his flannel, revealing his taut chest and soft tummy, your mouth waters at the sight of him. Rugged and soft around the edges, you frantically undo his belt. A smug laugh rumbles from his chest.

“Eager now, ain’t ya, baby?” He teases, shucking off his jeans. He visibly twitches in his boxers, a damp spot of precum already leaking through. You palm him through the fabric, Joel groaning at your warm touch. Sitting up on your knees, you snake your hands up his torso and wrap them around his neck, slamming your lips together in another heated kiss.

“Want you in my mouth,” you rasp hungrily.

“Later, baby. Need to be inside you. Gotta get you ready for me first,” he grunts as he throws you back on the bed. In one swift move, he slides your trousers down your legs and discards them on the floor. He groans at the sight beholding him. Your lacey pink thong with a visible wet patch on them. He wildly yanks it off, nearly ripping the lace. 

His lips ghost over your bare sex as he settles in between your legs. He peppers kisses along your thighs, his beard scratching against your skin.

“Joel,” you pant, plead. Your desire grows with every kiss to your thighs. He hums, the vibrations sending another wave of arousal to stick to your panties. His callused hands rest atop your tummy, settling your squirming.

“Joel, please,” your voice barely above a whisper. He laces his fingers with yours before diving in. Drowning in you, he moans at the taste of you. Savoring your tang on his tongue as he licks languid stripes up your glistening folds. Your wanton moans making his cock twitch, boxers growing messier with precum.

“Always taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’. So fuckin’ sweet,” he rasps before suckling your clit between his lips. You keen above him, arching your back into the mattress as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“So fucking good, Joel. Feels so fucking good, oh my god.”

Mouth still wrapped around your precious pearl, he prods a thick finger at your entrance. Your eyes fly open, gasping at the intrusion. His thick, long fingers hardened by a long day at work always hit that spot in a way you never could. He groans as he watches you suck him in, gliding in with ease.

“Joel, oh fuck, Joel. More, please,” you beg, breathless as he brings you closer to your release. He slides in another finger, moaning into you as he watches them glisten every time he pulls them out, squelching around him with every pump. Crooking his fingers deeper, your moans grow pitchier with every stroke as he brushes your g-spot.

He releases your clit from his lips, licking hurried stripes through your folds, slurping up the juices that have pooled at his wrist. 

“C'mon, baby. Can feel you squeezin’ my fuckin’ fingers. Fuck, can fuckin’ hear ya. Let go for me, darlin’. Come on my fingers, baby, let me have it,” he growls before flicking at your clit relentlessly. Your tummy clenches tightly, pressure bubbling over as you gush all over Joel’s mouth and fingers.

He groans as he skyrockets you into orbit. Floating around the sun, your vision burns hot and bright, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Joel hungrily, wildly drinks every drop before licking back up to your clit.

A puddle of your release gathers beneath you, it coats Joel’s wrist as it sticks to your thighs. Whimpering as you return to Joel, he releases your clit from his mouth and greedily licks up your slick from your thighs. Roaming up your body to meet your gaze, he brings two of his fingers to your mouth.

“Open for me, baby,” he snarls. You mindlessly obey, sucking in his slick-soaked fingers with heavy eyes. Moaning around him, savoring the taste of yourself. 

Joel lets out a wrecked moan, his mouth gaping as you suck his fingers clean. Hastily removing them from your mouth, he hurriedly slips out of his boxers and kicks them off to the side. You catch glimpse of him through heavy lids, whining as he pumps himself, precum smeared along his throbbing length through gritted teeth.

You flinch when he lines himself up with your weeping cunt, clit throbbing as your breathing becomes even more ragged. Whimpers and moans reverberate off the walls as he slides home. Fluttering around him as he splits you open, tears prick your eyes. The sting heightens your pleasure. His cock kissing your cervix as you adjust to the size of him.

“Fuck, baby. Always so fuckin’ tight,” he grits, holding his orgasm at bay.

“Y-you’re so fucking big, Joel, holy shit,” you whine, gasping with every word. 

His size is something you’ll never get used to. 

He sloppily slots his lips against yours, the taste of you melding into the kiss. Threading your fingers through his salt and pepper curls, he groans into your mouth as you tug on them. His weight making the pressure in your tummy rise.

“Joel,” you whisper against his lips. He hums, capturing them in his again before you can speak. He smirks as you let out a hmph.

“Move. Please.”

Joel hisses as he slides out of you almost completely, before ramming back into you. Your back arches into his chest, his rough, large hands slitehering to cup the sides of your waist. Pinning you beneath him as he snaps his hips into yours. Nudging at that spongy spot with every thrust.

He’s incredibly deep, fucking an endless stream of whines and moans out of you. Gripping his broad shoulders for purchase, your nails drag down his back. You can feel him twitch inside you, his hips stuttering at the dull sting of your scratches.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ good, baby. Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had in my life. Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all of me, squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight. You my good girl, baby? Huh?” Joel babbles, drunk off your pussy.

Your eyes struggle to stay open, every thrust sending you closer to the edge.

“Y-yes, Joel. Your good, fuck, your good girl,” you wail. 

“‘S right. You’re mine. All fuckin’ mine, baby. So good for me. Wanna feel you soak my cock, baby. Come on my cock, baby. Need to feel you."

With no preamble, he brings his thumb to your clit.

“Joel!”

One stroke to your clit catapults you to your orgasm. Stars bursting behind your eyes, dizzy as he fucks into you harder and harder. You feel his cock twitching as he nears his own release.

“Gonna let me fill you up, baby? Gonna take all my cum like a good girl?”

“Yes, Joel! Fill me up! Please! W-wanna feel you dripping from me, please, Joel!” You scream as you ride out your high, tears streaming down your face.

“Fuck!” Joel barks, hips stuttering as he cums hard. Coating your fluttering walls with his cum, his guttural, drawn-out groan echoing in the room. The two of you ride out your highs together, babbling nothing but Joel Joel Joel as the sheets crinkle in your deathgrip.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pushing you further into the mattress. He can feel his cum seeping out of your throbbing cunt, but he can’t bring himself to pull out. 

Not yet. 

He catches your lips in a searing kiss, a silent check-in, bringing you back to him as you whine and writhe.

“I got ya, baby. I got ya. So good. Did so good for me,” Joel rasps, voice hoarse and mouth dry.

He slips out of you slowly, reluctantly leaving your warm, wet walls. Your cunt achy and puffy as it gleams in the setting sun that glows through the window. Both of you covered in sweat and sticky with cum.

Laundry definitely needs to get done tonight.

Before he rises from the bed, Joel revels in the sight before him. You swollen, shiny hole weeping with his cum. Diving in, he licks up your folds. A wail bursting deep within your chest as he cleans you up with his skillful tongue.

“J-Joel. Too much, baby. Too much,” you gasp, your clit stinging from the overstimulation. He pulls away, but not before he can stuff two fingers inside your pussy.

“Gotta keep you full of me. Want you to feel me drippin’ outta you tomorrow."

Moaning at the fullness, at his words, you helplessly keen as he shoves his cum back inside you.

“Good girl,” he rasps before slipping his digits out of you, he places a soft lingering kiss to your thigh. Sliding out of bed, he pads into the bathroom. The water runs as you lay sprawled out on the bed, legs like jelly and head spinning.

Returning with a warm washcloth, Joel carefully swipes between your thighs, gently cleaning up the mess you two made. You hum, the warm water soothing your aching legs and cunt.

He tosses the cloth in the laundry basket. Scooping you into his arms, you nuzzle into his chest. Basking in the warmth of his tender embrace. Smiling at the feel of his lips on your head.

“Love you, darlin’.”

Humming against his chest, you bring your eyes to meet his.

“I love you too, Joel. Best Valentine’s Day ever,” you giggle, Joel laughing along with you.

The doorbell rings, Joel sighing at the interruption.

“‘S the delivery guy. Let me go pay him, baby,” he rasps into your hairline, a bratty whine bubbling from your chest.

“I’ll be right back, darlin’, I promise,” he says as he slips from your grasp. Playfully smacking your lips, Joel rolls his eyes, smiling at your antics.

While Joel handles the delivery guy, you get up and strip the bed. Tossing the sheets into the laundry basket, you head into the hall to grab a fresh set. Making the bed with the new sheets, you sigh as you plop yourself on the mattress, snuggling under the blankets.

Joel clambers up the stairs and back into the room, pizza box in hand along with two glasses in one hand, the bottle of wine carefully resting atop of the box.

He sets it down on the dresser, pouring you each a healthy glass. He hands you a slice of pizza along with your wine, graciously thanking him with a smile on your face.

The two of you share the pizza on the bed, sidled beside each other as you debrief your days. As Joel goes for another slice, he stops in his tracks.

“Why’d you strip the bed?”

“Huh?” You ask through a mouthful of pizza.

“Why’d you strip the bed?”

“Oh. Well… it was messy. I thought I’d clean up,” you explain through your muffled mouth.

“And who said I was done with ya, darlin’?”

tag list: @nostalxgic @honeyedmiller @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @morallyinept

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller tlou #ilovepedro valentine’s day series

[iwaasfairy]

quick drabble of some stray jealous twins thought

tw incest, jealousy and a bratty little sister

“You’ve got a sparkle in your eye when you look at me,” he’s laughing, smile glittering as he stares down his nose at you with the closeness - and heat dusts over your nose and cheeks.

“I do not.” Your back is still resting against the pole, but it’s less out of casualness than it was when you first propped yourself up against it. Now it serves to keep you upright, as the handsome older boy leans in.

“You really, really do though,” his hair gets ruffled by the warm breeze, and makes him look even more effortlessly attractive, “‘s almost like you’re a little happy to be hanging out with me after all.”

You click your tongue, brush your hair over your shoulder and start walking again, and he follows behind with his motorbike beside him. “You’re seein’ things, Kei-kun~ I’m sure I don’t know what yer talkin’ about.”

“I’m entirely sure you do know.” He’s fun, and easy to talk to, and while you might not know him well enough to say you like him, you could surely get the butterflies in your stomach if this went on any longer. Almost as if knowing that’s what you’re thinking, his hand reaches out to brush against yours, fingers just about linking. “Say—”

Whatever would follow is cut off when a gruff voice calls your name with a very obvious scowl, and your eyes shoot up the rest of the road to make your eyebrows travel high on your forehead. Osamu’s got his marked hat pulled low over his eyes, but arms crossed. “We’re having dinner. Home, now.” There’s no please and thank you with the glare he gives the both of you, and Keitaro straightens up to wave.

“Yo, Miya.”

It makes your big brother’s jaw clench, before he lets out a slow “yo” back — completely forced. And when his eyes find yours, your shoulders go up a few inches in slight shame at being caught so openly. You’re still a few blocks from his apartment, so that must mean he came out looking for you. That must mean he’s already in a sour mood. “Get going,” he basically barks out at you then, and glares when you slink away a few steps.

“I’ll see you.” You quickly whisper. But despite the miserable attempt at playing it off, Keitaro’s quicker than you’d like; and his long frame bends to place a peck on your cheek. Mostly just being cheeky, you know. Your big brothers’ protectiveness is hardly a secret, and he seems like the type to poke — but that harmless fun has your cheeks going even hotter when he smiles down at you, adding in a whisper.

“The meanie, older Miya twins don’t scare me,” his eyes shine when meeting yours, before he gets onto his bike and revs his engine. “I’ll call you later.” As he drives off, your toes curl in your shoes, and you stare resolutely at the floor. Face no doubt glowing.

Your lips shake, as you cast a quick glance through thick lashes. Samu’s got you by your shoulder before you can even say anything, cool exterior cracking just barely as he starts walking and a vein in his temple thumps. “Wait, niichan~ It wasn’t me, I was just playin’ around! It- I wasn’t even that into him like that-”

“Walk properly,” he breathes out, and his eyes narrow when you just oblige. You shouldn’t have been messing around, but they keep your collar so tight. It’s hard not to get fed up after a while. When you’re mostly out of sight of the main street and the sun sinks behind the houses, he finally pushes you the last stretch home and lets go of the almost painful grip of your arm. “That the type ta get ya goin’?” His biceps almost tear out of his shirt when he cages you against the door and crosses his arms again. “That what’ya like?”

“I was just entertaining myself on the walk home, s’all. S’no crime, niichan.” You’re pouting, can’t help it.

He leans you up against the house then, leg slotting between your thighs and shoulders pinning you in place. He forces his mouth to yours until you have no choice but to bend into him, where your hands rest on his chest. “Mh-nii- dan-” The kiss doesn’t stop, only deepens until his tongue is in your mouth and you’re tasting him. Though you do your best to pull away, his tongue rubs into yours as long as he likes and until his satisfied grunt sounds as he pulls back.

The door to the apartment opens up, and familiar caramel eyes find the both of you. The cooler grey ones appraise you from under the hat when wiping your spit from his lips, and picks you back up by the scruff of your neck. “Shitty ‘mouto kissed ‘im. I got mad.”

If you couldn’t see the slight twitch in the blond’s face, you could almost kid yourself into thinking he’d stay impartial. But his voice is too low, and his eyes too sharp. “Ya kissed that dirty neighborhood tramp?” Atsumu’s lip lifts with disgust, before turning to his twin. “An’ ya said you’d let me play with ‘er first. I just got back to Hyogo, Samu.”

You’re quick to ball your fists and glare at the darker haired one. “Didn’t kiss anyone except you, stupid niisan. Let go of me, you’re so annoying.”

“Ain’t happening—what do we do with the dude?”

Atsumu reaches out his hand as he pushes himself against the doorframe. “Hand ‘er over.” He clicks his tongue in annoyance, and pulls you straight into his chest when you try to fight against it. Strong, work-worn hands pull your face up to his as he stares you down, and then sighs. “We could always kill ‘im.”

“Killing ‘im sounds good right about now, Tsumu.”

“Doesn’t it, Samu?”

#tw.incest #tw.dark content #💫ch.atsumu #💫ch.osamu #🍯honey.pot

[leighsartworks216]

To Be Warm And Comfy

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I was only going to write down this little idea before I took a nap... And then I ended up writing the whole thing

The crochet theme actually came out of nowhere for me. I cannot crochet anything more than a chain to save my life, but I do loom knit from time to time

Warnings: self-deprecation, low self worth

Word Count: 776

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Slotted between his legs, you rested your back against Astarion's chest. His arms coiled around your waist and held you close, while he pressed his nose into your neck and peered over your shoulder. With practiced hands, the yarn slid through your fingers at the perfect tension, hooked and worked together into rows of perfect stitches.

He'd never seen anything quite like it. During his living years, he focused on intellectualism and law, not crafts. And during his servitude, sewing and embroidering came about from necessity, though he did still enjoy them. This was incredible. He couldn't stop watching as you worked in smooth movements to crochet your little project. You wouldn't tell him what it was, but he was content simply to watch.

For several weeks, this became the nightly pattern. You'd lay back in his arms while he held you, watching you work away in silence or with idle chatter. When you finished for the night, you'd set your project aside where it wouldn't get damaged, he'd gingerly bite into your neck and take his share, and he'd lay down with you as you drifted off to sleep. Usually he stayed, if he'd had enough to eat during the day and didn't need to sip on some boar or squirrels. Sometimes he would read while you crocheted, sharing his favorite bits with you. It was nice. Peaceful.

You told him, one night, that you were almost finished. He'd watched with rapt attention then, studying the way you fastened off and weaved the excess yarn back through the stitches. He'd realized almost a week ago that it was a sweater, but it was almost a marvel when you held it up by the shoulders in front of you both to show it off.

He kissed your jaw with a gentle squeeze around your midsection. "It looks wonderful, darling."

You hummed, smiling brightly. "I'm really glad you think so." You sat up and turned in his arms. He didn't fight to keep you where you were, though he certainly missed the solidness and warmth you provided. You held it out to him. "Put it on."

He frowned, confused. "Don't tell me you spent weeks making that just to give it away?"

"Of course I did, now put it on."

"I'm hardly worth the effort," he scoffed. He did not accept the gift. His expressions mixed oddly - light-hearted joy, befuddlement, self-deprecation - all flooding his system and overwhelming him. He simply could not grasp the fact you'd go through all the effort for him. "Surely it would look much nicer on you!"

You sighed, understanding and long-suffering. "Tell you what, if it doesn't fit or you don't like it, I'll keep it. Deal?"

He sighed, too. He'd hardly be able to refuse it once he put it on. But you nudged the sweater in his direction again, and how could he say no?

You watched with a wide grin as he slipped it over his head and slid the sleeves along his arms. It was... really nice, actually. Warm and soft without feeling constricting. It fit him perfectly.

"You're always so cold," you explain, wrapping your arms around his waist and relaxing forward until your chin was against his chest. "So I made you this. You can wear it when touch is too overwhelming, or if you feel too out of it to cuddle. I just want you to be warm and comfy."

He chuckles breathlessly, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. "I'm sure I'll be very comfy in this."

His undead heart ached. You went through so much trouble. He'd seen you struggle to find enough of the same yarn, watched you cuss and groan every time a stitch fell or when you had to undo a section because you miscounted. He'd held and massaged your hands when crocheting began to wear them out. 

And still you persevered. For him. You even ensured it would fit a little loose, so he wouldn't be claustrophobic. It was... a lot. To have someone go through all this trouble.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you up until he could give you a proper hug. He nuzzled his cold nose into your neck, and he sighed. Softly, sweetly - completely relaxed.

"Thank you." He bit his tongue before he could ask if you were sure, if he really was worth the effort. Surely, by making the sweater, you'd proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was. "I shall cherish it always."

"I love you," you coo sweetly by his ear.

He must look like a fool with how wide he's smiling. "I love you, too, dear."

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars

#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #fluff

[ichorai]

apple pies & break-ins ; tangerine.

pairing ; tangerine x assassin!spouse!reader (gender-neutral pronouns)

synopsis ; tangerine comes back home just as you're about to leave.

words ; 1.9k

themes ; pure fluff, mild comedy, established relationship (married), assassin au

warnings / includes ; blood/injuries/weapons, slightly suggestive, tangerine has a potty mouth, lemon cameo, tangerine being clingy and sappy

main masterlist.

The entire house smelled of cinnamon, apples, and buttery pie crust. You sliced up another apple, taking care to carve out its core, before tossing it in the sugar syrup and popping the chopped pieces of fruit into the crust to bake in the oven. As soon as you bumped the door shut with your hip, the front door creaked open, followed by a familiar jangling of keys. 

You glanced up with a warm smile, glad that your husband was finally home—except it was quick to melt away when you took in his disheveled appearance. There was blood all over him, dribbling down his hairline, splattered over his neck, staining his once-pristine clothes. 

Despite his haggard state, he sent you a tired beam, his mustache twitching with the smile. 

“‘Ello, love,” he greeted, making his way to you behind the kitchen counter. “Close your mouth, darlin’, you’ll catch flies.” With a cheeky smirk, he slotted a finger beneath your chin, effectively snapping your lips shut. He mildly winced when he noticed he accidentally left a faint print of sticky blood on your jaw, but wisely decided not to tell you.

You fixed him with an unimpressed stare. “Jesus, Tan. Is that your blood?”

“Not sure, honestly. It’s coming from all over—some of it’s bound to be mine. Don’t worry about me, love. I’m fuckin’ peachy. Speaking of, it smells really good in here. You bakin’ something for me, darling? I’m flattered,” he hummed, leaning forward to kiss you. 

Before he could, you ducked away from him, pushing his face to the side with a wrinkled nose. “Ugh, go shower first, you’re getting blood everywhere! To be honest, I would’ve felt better knowing it was yours.”

“Ouch,” he murmured, though his grin still lingered by the corner of his mouth. “You wound me, sweetheart.”

Relenting, you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his unsuspecting lips. “There. You happy?”

“Very. Thanks, love.” He sent you a playful wink before slinking off to the bathroom, whistling a peppy tune under his breath on the way. You rolled your eyes and smiled to yourself, before turning to clean up the mess of flour and sugar and apple cores you’d made on the kitchen counter.

When your husband finally slunk out of the bathroom, a thick white towel hanging low around his waist and another ruffling at his damp curls, he made his way back into the kitchen.

“Put on some clothes, Tan,” you scoffed when he pressed against you from behind, sprinkling a bit of cinnamon sugar on the apple pie you had just taken out of the oven. 

“Hm, you don’t like me like this?” he queried, verging on a whine since you weren’t paying him the least bit of attention. “Naked and at your disposal?”

Amused, you finally turned around in his arms, trapped between him and the counter. The blue of his eyes were hooded and lustful, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. You, however, smiled sweetly at him. “You’re not naked.”

“Well, that can easily be remedied—”

Before he could reach down to undo the towel around his waist, you stopped him with your hands gripping both his wrists, quirking your brows. “As much as I’d love to, I have to call in for a job soon. I’m running late already. I was baking the pie for you in case you got back while I was gone.”

“Another job?” asked Tangerine, clearly upset at the turn of events. “Can’t you call off? I’m sure they can send another bloody assassin to do their dirty work.”

You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, before gently pushing him away so you could head off to your shared bedroom and get changed. To none of your surprise, your husband trailed along behind you like a sullen puppy. “It’s a lot of money, baby. Don’t think I could afford to keep skipping jobs just to laze around with you.”

With a disappointed grumble, Tangerine wrapped his arms around you from behind again, squeezing tightly and kissing down your neck. “How long will this one take?”

“I’ll be back tonight,” you reassured him. “Tomorrow at the very latest.”

“Alright,” he acquiesced, though not without a loud sigh. He sat down on the bed, watching as you shirked off your flour-covered shirt in favor of a dark button-up. “You remember how we first met?”

Of course you did. You remembered it as if it was yesterday. You crossed your arms, stepping in between his legs by the edge of the bed. Both of his hands went to your waist, fingers curling over your back and absentmindedly tracing loose shapes on your sides. 

Looking up at you, he spoke between pressing soft kisses along your abdomen, over the black shirt you had donned, “I was on a mission with Lemon in Madrid… and we were in a tight situation. Bullets flying everywhere, my leg fucked up, and my gun jammed. Then, whaddya know, the most beautiful fuckin’ person I’ve ever laid my eyes upon comes flying through one o’ the windows. Took out three people with one knife, and took out another four with a bloody crossbow. You looked at me, covered in blood, and asked if I was alright. I told you that you were fucking gorgeous—and then you fell in love with me, right on the spot, and the rest is history.”

You burst out into a fit of laughter. “Hm, that’s not how I remember it. Need I remind you that I shoved you to the side because you kept getting in my way, asking if I’d like to have dinner with you? Gods, Tan, you were a pain in my ass. And your brother was laughing at you.”

“Cunt,” he grumbled at the mention of his brother. “Well, even if you didn’t fall in love with me right then and there—I did. I knew I had to be yours from the moment I saw you.”

You lowered yourself to a crouch, cupping his face and caught his lips in a feverish kiss. When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against his. “Are you telling me this because you want me to stay?”

A sheepish grin tugged at the corner of Tangerine’s lips. “Is it working?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’. You pulled away, slinging a packed bag over your shoulder and heading out the bedroom. “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby. Love you.”

“Wait! You said you’d come back tonight!”

True to your word, you had returned home at midnight, stumbling through the door tired and weary. Thankfully, you weren’t too banged up, just a scratch on your shoulder from the graze of a bullet that you managed to patch yourself before coming back. You were greeted with Tangerine dozing on the couch, a shitty reality show glowing on the television screen, with the half-eaten apple pie on the coffee table in front. He startled awake when you flicked his cheek with a smile.

“Hey, sleepy,” you said, dipping down to kiss his forehead, sauntering towards your bedroom to get changed.

As expected, your husband scurried off the couch to follow after you, gathering you into his arms and kissing you deeply. “I missed you,” he murmured, accent thick and lilting.

“Come on, I wanna get to sleep,” you said, tugging him to the bed with a muffled yawn.

In no time, he was curled up behind you, his large arm thrown over your waist and hand splayed out over your stomach. His nose was buried into the back of your head, unable to wipe the pleased smile off of his features.

It was relatively easy to drift to sleep, given how exhausted the two of you already were.

Not even three hours later, with the two of you already deep in slumber, there came a loud crashing from the front of the house. Someone was breaking in.

Immediately, you sat up in the bed, slipping out from beneath Tangerine’s heavy arms and the blanket. The cold air kissed your bare skin, sending a shiver spidering up your spine. You reached beneath your pillow to brandish a small emergency dagger you kept between the mattress and the headboard. Your husband also startled awake at the loud sound, eyes tired yet wide, grappling for a gun he kept beneath the bed.

“Stay in here,” he whispered, striding forward to the bedroom door, left slightly ajar.

“Like hell I am,” you quietly gruffed back, hot on his heels.

Knowing that there was no stopping you, Tangerine blew out a breath and the both of you crept closer, light on your feet. With no warning, Tan shouldered the door open and stepped out in one fluid motion, lining the gun up with the intruder.

A second later, he immediately lowered the weapon with a long string of exasperated curses. You peered over his shoulder, tense muscles loosening upon seeing Tangerine’s brother, Lemon, frozen in front of the broken window. His lips were twisted into a grimace and his eyes were as wide as saucers. There were shards of glass glimmering in his dark hair.

“What the fuck, man?” your husband erupted, immediately clicking the safety back on his gun and shoving it into the waistband of his sweats. “Are you daft? The fuck did you break my window for?”

“I was looking for you! Never heard a peep from you two after your missions. I just assumed the worst!” he exclaimed. For a moment, Lemon’s dark eyes flickered to you. “Hi, Y/N. Look lovely, by the way.”

You crossed your arms, more amused than anything. “Hey, Lemon.” 

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ call us, then? Bloody fucking idiot! Going down and breaking my window like that,” he angrily muttered, stomping forward to inspect the damage. “You’re paying for this, you twat.”

Rearing back, Lemon snarled, “Oi! I did call you! Didn’t answer your phones, the neither of you. I thought something happened! Forgive me for worrying about my brother and my in-law!”

“The fuck you mean, I would get the fucking notification if you called me!” Tangerine hissed back, pressing the heels of his palms into his sleepy eyes. After a second, he reached down into his pocket, fishing out his phone. He pressed the power button once, then twice. A third time for good measure. “Well, fuck me. It’s dead.”

You hid a smile behind your palm. You married a complete, hot-headed idiot. With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you wiggled your fingers farewell and swiftly turned, yawning as you dragged yourself back into the room. “I’m going back to bed. You two behave yourselves.”

Both of them grunted goodbyes at your departure, before immediately carrying on with their arguments.

“Why didn’t you just call Y/N?”

A long pause. Lemon's eye twitched. “Didn’t think of that, to be honest with you… What are you, a fucking halfwit? Of course I called Y/N!”

"Oh, right, yeah, Y/N does put their phone on DND before bed. Right."

"Right."

Frowning, Tangerine barked out, “Still, you’re a fuckin’ idiot, you know that? I could’ve shot you!”

“Alright, alright, calm your tits. D’you mind if I crash on your couch for the night?”

“What, are you bloody mental?” Another pause. “Alright, fine. Just take your shoes off. Don’t want you tracking mud all over the place.”

Half an hour later, Tangerine crawled back into bed, settling himself behind you. You had fallen asleep already, but shifted with a pleasant hum when he pressed a ticklish kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder. 

“Love you,” he whispered, tugging you closer to his chest. You drowsily murmured something incoherent in response, and Tangerine contentedly drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

#tangerine x reader #bullet train fanfiction #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine x you #tangerine fluff #tangerine imagines #tangerine drabbles #tangerine headcanon #bullet train tangerine #bullet train tangerine x reader

[captainmera]

i never realised just how much tgb had changed how i thought about the characters (mostly vee) until yesterday when i was re-looking over my toh fan-art. You wrote them so well that i forgot that it wasnt all in the show. like how vee and gus weren't shown to being best friends, vee never got to be angry/shocked by hunter or just willow still holding a little grudge against amity. They are just cool details and im so clad they were added! ps your great

Thank you! Wow that's very flattering! I'm glad you are enjoying it!

I really like Vee, and the more I think about the gang's time in the human-realm, the more I sit back in my chair and think "Ah man, these arcs are really necessary and interesting though.."

Vee also holds a lot of plot, as a basilisk. We can speculate what the reason is that they were extinct, for example (grimwalkers were extinct too).

Wat I really enjoy about TOH's characters are how easily and smoothly they weave into each other's themes and arcs. Their personalities and histories makes them all perfect friends to both build them up and break them down. It's a chefs kiss.

Vee is no different! The set-up for her character was perfectly slotted in to what the other characters needed for their time in the human-realm. And the theme I think the human-realm was supposed to embody.

The demon-realm arc for Luz was a hero's journey, but because of the foil of the trope, and that the point was that: there is no hero/chosen one actually, and the rebels didn't make it in time like in the books, and just because it's a different realm it didn't mean Luz could escape - escapism is temporary.

Dana has said grief and hope are core elements of the story, and she chose to tell it through a foiled trope of being chosen/hero's journey, layered with a religious trauma lens.

To me, looking at Luz as the main character, means looking at her as a nerdy girl in need of escapism, wanting to find purpose, and avoiding her emotions about her dad's passing.

The return to human-realm would be, for Luz, a turning point where TOH turns from being about a hero's journey and a journey about the steps of grief and healing - at the end of it, she will find the light.

Vee, to me, is kind of like a new take on the guide character. She is not a guide, in the sense that she has all the answers, but rather all the truths.

She was right when she told Luz she had everything and still chose to run away. They're not the same. Vee is also a lot better than Luz at being normal and fitting in, something Luz has been playing off and avoiding facing. Luz sees herself as being different as a bad thing, she tried to run away to a place where "weird" was normal and that didn't work out. Now she's back home and feels that it's all her fault bad things happened, because she is herself. And the person she is is different. And different didn't mean special, just different. Of course she's depressed.

The same is true for all the other characters. Vee gets to reflect their truths too, simply by being crafted, narratively, into being the guide.

Hunter gets to face his actions as the GG, come to terms with the nuances of his bad actions, whatever reason he committed what he did. Find forgiveness not just from Vee but himself too. He gets to start over, just like her. She shows him it's possible.

Gus gets someone to share his dream with, his love and enthusiasm for the human realm. A place that Vee feels is more home than where she came from. Gus gets to grow as a person, both morally and intelligently. As does Vee, she gets somebody who shows her that she doesn't just have to be a refugee, she can have a purpose here. She can be an ambassador.

Willow was set up to have an arc where she mistook her newfound magical and physical strengths (she is working out a lot in canon after she changed track), for inner strengths. Willow is a sensitive girl, and a bit of a berserk (I mean she was willing to burn her own mind just to hurt Amity). Willow having to face Vee, who isn't physically stronger than her but is significantly further down the road of being internally strong, is something Willow can learn from. Perhaps even have conflict with! (but more so a conflict with herself than with Vee, really.)

With Amity, Vee has a simpler role. I think to Amity it's more so showing that it's possible to live in the human realm, and giving her hope that going back and forth is a future for everyone who wishes to do so. Creatively speaking, I think Amity and Vee more so to bounce off one another for the plot, rather than character growth or decline.

Camila, I think, is the most interesting. Because she has now spent approximately a year with Vee, half of it thinking she was Luz and having feelings about her daughter having changed so much, the line "I'm glad youre still creative" comes to mind. As well as the terror of losing Luz again. But also, because she has had her own unseen arc and development with Vee, and them having bonded into a foster family that we never got to see glimpses of, it goes without saying that Camila has already done the internal work to take on more kids if that's necessary. I think she saw these kids by her door and thought "yep. They're mine now too." Vee, I think, is interesting to toss into the family dynamic between Luz and Camila, who seemingly are misunderstanding one another significantly. Vee sees them both, and can be a voice of reason when it comes to it. Or if it would come to it.

ANYWAY MY RANTS ARE LONG. IM DONE. THANKS FOR READING.

#TOH #the owl house #toh vee #vee noceda

[cerastes]

can i get other examples of gamepress being wrong about arknights? i've been using them as my main source since i started and now i'm worried i'm missing out on some operators i haven't bothered to upgrade 🙃

We could be here literally all day because it's not like they have one or two outliers, Gamepress is just mainly edited by people that live in an echo chamber and that have authority in their own circle so it's just off-the-hip, all too often wrong biased takes based on their own really reductive metrics. Chiefly, Gamepress ranks characters 1) as if they were the sole unit in the battlefield almost exclusively, and 2) using the single most broken units currently live as the barrier of entry. The unit you are looking up can't clear a chunk of map in one tap? Worthless and sub-optimal, according to Gamepress. Their only metric is Mlynar, Ch'ung the Hung, Surtr, that kind of Press To Win philosophy, and if a unit can't do that, Then It's Bad And Not Worth It.

Now, you may be thinking, "goodness me, Dreamer, you are being awfully harsh to call them complete dogshit at every angle of the game in this manner!", well, see, it's not just their Operator "reviews", they have articles sometimes. And they are god awful dogshit as well, such as "What Happened To Blaze?"

You can't see the comments anymore, but the author was getting reamed. I have one screenie at least:

Comments were mainly of this nature. Because, well, the article is straight up awful, especially since it reduces Blaze to "laneholder" and compares her to "competition" like Thorns, Mudrock, and Mountain, who, yes, they all can hold a lane, but Blaze has her own space of "infinite duration, high statline, healable 3-block with 2 tile range" that has historically allowed for Funny Tricks like clearing enemies through "walls" on tiles that could shred Thorns even with a healer, or, you know, in conjunction with any of Mudrock or Mountain, given you have 12 whole slots for you team. Again, Gamepress editors rate characters as if they were your main in a fighting game and not one of 12+1 characters you can throw in at any time. They also tend to shit on non-specialist characters (generalists; more versatile units that can do a bunch of things without really breaking the game in any regard), which is very interesting because those usually will make up a strong backbone of any competent Integrated Strategies team, so the specialists in role can do their thing while the other needs of the map are being met.

"Ebenholz is nothing special." "Goldenglow is nothing special." These are takes they genuinely held until, you know, it turned out that Eben and GG are the most relevant Casters, up there with Eyja. To be fair, it wasn't just them being wrong on Eben, but how do you look at the global blasting of GG with her numbers and don't immediately realize that's an ICBM button? All it takes is having the game installed.

The biased nature of Gamepress is also blatant:

Imagine rating April as "Really Good" while relegating Dorothy as only "Really Fun". Even before her Module3, Dorothy was absolutely devastating, bringing huge damage multipliers, crowd control, one of the single best class autoattacks in the whole game at 6* stat weight, and a Talent that gives her even more Attack for basically using her as intended. I'm not saying April isn't good, mind you, I'm just trying to highlight how biased the hands behind Gamepress are: They can't figure out Trapmasters? Then surely they are merely "really fun". Can't drop and forget them like April or Surtr, after all.

About the only thing Gamepress is good for is objective, in-game info: Dates, mat requirements, what skills do, that kind of stuff. It's got a good interface and is a good place to just quickly look up what you need to know that can otherwise be found in the game. The moment their personal opinions come into play, though? The most absolute dogshit takes. Unless you are a "unga bunga drop Surtr and Mlynar and win instan-- WAIT WHY IS INTEGRATED STRATEGIES AND RISK 23+ KICKING MY DAY 1 PLAYER ASS...!?" kinda player, then you don't really want to follow Gamepress advice.

Because they simply do not give good advice as a whole.

#corvidthots #arknights #gamepress

[supernovafics]

boyfriend!steve is in a band and you go to one of his shows (18+ minors dni)

wc: 1k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

there was something about his hands on that guitar, plucking the strings and switching from notes so seamlessly, that made you want to combust.

it also made you upset that you hadn’t been to one of steve’s shows sooner. but, classes had been so hectic for you lately that it was genuinely hard to find the time; and steve never made you feel bad about it. 

almost everyone in the crowd was staring at him, but he was looking right at you. 

even though there were a bunch of people surrounding you and you weren’t able to get that close to the stage, he still saw you. 

and when he smiled at you, you couldn’t help but shyly smile back at him, even though you hadn’t felt nervous around him in years. 

“you were very hot up there,” you told him after the show when the two of you were seated on the couch in the tiny room backstage designated for the band. “yeah?” he shifted a bit closer to you and wrapped an arm around you. you instinctively leaned into his touch. 

it was only the two of you in the room because his bandmates had already headed to the bar next door to the venue. you and steve planned to meet up with them in a bit. 

you nodded. “i’m like ninety-five percent sure that every girl in the crowd wanted to sleep with you.”

he laughed at that. “okay, i’m sure that’s an exaggeration.”

“oh, don’t be so modest.” you playfully poked his side. 

“well, the only girl i wanna sleep with is right here,” he said as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“always the smooth talker, harrington,” you smiled. you then intertwined your hand with his that was draped around you and pulled it to your lips to give it a quick kiss. “also, your hands on that guitar. very, very hot as well.”

you had probably always been obsessed with steve’s hands, something that you had mentioned to him many, many times before, so seeing them “in action” while he was performing that night only increased your infatuation tenfold. 

“mm, really?” he asked, pretending to seem somewhat surprised. he always loved to tease you about how much you loved his hands. 

“yes, the main event in my eyes,” you said and then kissed his hand again. 

he was about to respond with another teasing comment but pulled you sideways onto his lap instead. the black skirt you were wearing rode up a little and his hands settled against your thighs and started tracing soft circles on the bare skin. 

“i’m starting to think you love my hands more than me,” he told you, acting mock offended. 

“they’re definitely a plus for sure,” you said, trying to make your voice sound playful but it was hard to do so when steve’s fingers were slowly trailing farther up your thigh and you could already feel the wetness pooling in your panties at simply the thought of what was next.

you were staring straight into his eyes as you parted your legs just a tiny bit because you couldn’t help but want more, even though the two of you were in a room where anyone could’ve walked in at any moment. 

a small smirk played on steve’s face as he took your action as a signal to keep going, and when he pressed his fingers against your underwear, a quiet moan fell from your lips and he let out a soft groan. “jesus, you’re soaked already, baby.”

a faint “mhm” was all you could respond with at that moment and your eyes slipped shut for a brief moment as you felt him continue to tease you through your underwear. 

somehow you managed to find some logic through your neediness, and you stopped him before he pulled the thin fabric to the side and really felt you. “wait. is there somewhere else we can go? we can’t do this in here.”

steve nodded and slotted his lips against yours for a brief moment before responding to you. “mm, we definitely could. but, yes there is somewhere else.”

you maneuvered off of his lap and stood up and let him lead you out of the room and toward a bathroom that was a bit down the hall.  

when the door was shut and locked behind you both, you didn’t waste a second to pull steve in for a kiss; one that was much less chaste and a lot more desire filled. 

his hands found your waist and gave your skin a light squeeze as he guided you back toward the sink and helped lift you onto it. 

you couldn’t even bring yourself to care or notice how grimey the bathroom was. all you wanted was steve. 

“fuck,” you moaned when his hands left your waist and went underneath your skirt to finally slip off your underwear. 

your eyes fell shut and you leaned back against the mirror as you felt his soft but slightly calloused fingers stroke your wet folds and begin to tease your clit. 

steve let out a quiet groan as he watched how easily his fingers could move through your pussy. “all this for me, hm, baby? all this because of my hands?” 

your mind was already feeling a little incoherent so all you could mutter out was a barely audible “yes” along with something that vaguely resembled a nod. but, that wasn’t enough for steve. 

he stopped the slow circles he was making against your clit and you immediately pouted at him, eyes opening as you met his dark gaze. 

“i wanna hear you, baby,” he said as he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

“yes, yes, i’m so wet for you, stevie. your hands, fuck, i love them so much,” you told him as you slightly bucked your hips upward in attempt to feel something. he smiled at how desperate you were for him. 

when he finally slipped two fingers inside of you, with much ease because of how wet you were, you let out a soft whimper and buried your face in his neck. 

he slowly moved his fingers in and out of you, and he could feel your walls fluttering with every movement. “ah, shit, you feel so good, baby. squeezing my fingers so tight, holy fuck.”

you moaned into his neck and the feeling of your lips against him made him go even more feral. he added a third finger and pushed further into you, hitting a spot that made you see stars. 

“oh, fuck. right there, yes,” you practically screamed and had to bite your lip harshly to stifle the noise. 

it was almost too easy for him to bring you to the edge and when his thumb started circling your clit as his fingers relentlessly pounded into you, he could feel how close you were getting. 

he softly pushed you back so that you were no longer moaning into his neck, but instead leaning against the mirror. 

“i wanna see you when you come, baby. you always look so pretty.”

those words alone were almost enough to make you fall apart against his hand right there, but it wasn’t until his fingers hit deep inside of you one, two, three more times, and then his lips ghosted over yours for a brief moment as he said the words, “come for me, pretty girl,” that you finally exploded. your back arched sharply off the mirror and you let out the loudest moan that you couldn’t even bother trying to stifle. 

steve continued fingering you through your orgasm, trying to prolong it as long as possible because he loved the soft sounds that fell from your lips, and his other hand stroked your hot cheek. “so pretty.” 

your eyes finally opened and you smiled at him, breaths still coming out in soft pants. “i love you.”

his lips found yours in a slow kiss that lasted for a few moments before he pulled away and said, “love you too.”

he pulled his fingers out of you and slipped your underwear back up your legs. 

“can this be a post-show ritual now?” you asked as he helped you off the sink and you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

he smiled and softly kissed your lips. “i’d love that.”

#currently going insane at the thought of band!steve #steve harrington smut #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff

[onlyhereforthestories]

All It Takes Is A Bet (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

A fic from me finally! Well a normal fic. Sometimes writing is an escape for me and that last fic was just that. This one is more what I normally write and i have enjoyed writing it. To the person that requested it thank you <3

You weren’t a hugger, but when you did hug someone you knew that you made an impact. You had been told this fact not long into your teen years, a friend of yours had been dumped by a boy and you had given her the only comfort you knew people liked to receive. A hug. Which was a major shock to your friends group at the time because you had not once hugged any of them in the year you’d been friends. The friend that you hugged didn’t let go for a solid 5 minutes and was asked why by the rest of the group. She simply stated that you gave her the best hug she had ever had, even better than her own mothers.

That’s the interaction that started the constant in your life that was people doing whatever possible to receive a hug off you. For the most part you found it funny to see the desperation of some people to get something you didn’t really understand as being that wonderful, but it frustrated you a lot too. There was a reason you didn’t give out hugs unless they were needed, you found them to be vulnerable. And being vulnerable was not something you did in front of people, not unless you loved them.

This fact was highlighted even more when you joined Barcelona woman’s team. The girls there were different to everyone else, they had a constant need to be touching one another in some shape or form. They all respected your space and kept the touching to light brushes or piggy back celebrations only until the day you hugged Alexia for the first time.

It was the dying minutes of a league game, Barca needed to win to stay at the top of the table but your opponents were making it very difficult. You were all getting frustrated but no one more than Alexia. She always had felt that overall responsibility to be the one who changes the game and right now she was struggling to make anything happen, a fact you could see written all over her face every time you caught sight of it.

You were a forward by nature but today you were put in behind Jenni and had a bit more of a playmaker role and that’s just what you did a minute before the final whistle was being blown. You dropped in deeper than you had all game and picked up the ball from Mapi, as you turned you spotted Alexia making a straight run through the middle of the oppositions centre backs so you played a ball over the top which landed pretty much on the woman’s front foot. All Alexia had to do was control it with that first touch and slot it past the on rushing keeper, something she did with ease.

As soon as the ball hit the back of the net she was running at you, you had assisted a few goals for the Spanish superstar already but this one felt different, it felt important. So when she got close to you and jumped you did the unexpected and caught her, squeezing her in a tight hug that she stayed in for as long as was deemed acceptable for the middle of a game. The rest of the girls dog piling on top of you in celebration for not only the goal but the first hug you had given a member of the group.

The win was celebrated all together but that wasn’t the main talk of the dressing room, no the main talk was you hugging someone. Alexia found herself at the forefront of the questioning, most of them along the lines of what she had done for you to get the extra treatment.

You saved your captain from the questioning by telling the girls they could all get one hug on their birthday. This seemed to pull the teams mind away from questioning the hug that happened to who was going to get the next hug off you.

That was the first of many hugs you would go on to share with the woman everyone called their captain, a fact that both annoyed and excited some of your friends on the team. Each and every hug you shared with Alexia in front of them was spoken about and questioned, the teasing going unnoticed by the two of you. You remember after one hug Alexia had told them that your hugs were the best and that’s why she kept going back for more which had ended up with you running away from a mob of women football players all threatening you with a drowning if they didn’t get to know what it was like to hug you.

“Come on y/n, when are you going to admit that you either love La Reina or give us all more than one hug a year on our birthdays?” The tone of Mapi’s voice was both teasing and whiny, giving away the fact that she was very much hating and loving the conversation she had started.

“I will be doing neither of these things. I don’t hug people unless its needed and I don’t do feelings.” You went back to the porridge you had in front of you whilst the other women around the table shared a silent conversation.

“Okay how about this then.” Leila had a smirk on her face so you knew that whatever came next was going to be interesting in some way or another, never the less you nodded for her to continue when you realised she was waiting for the go ahead. “If you can refrain from hugging Alexia for the next week we will believe you don’t have feelings for her and stop asking for hugs from you all the time.” This had you confused, surely this was to easy. It wasn’t like you were actually in love with the woman they were talking about. Were you.

“You have a deal.” In your head this was the easiest win of the week, you don’t do hugs so having to have even less of them can’t be a bad thing.

Your thoughts on the bet changed by the end of the day, after a pretty successful weight session where you felt like everything moved really well, you sat down for lunch. Sitting at a table full of empty seats was your first error. By the time your chicken had cooled down enough for you to take a bite, the rowdy crew had joined your once silent table.

Claudia was whispering to Patri and Mapi before she cleared her throat and directed her eyeline to your figure. “So, we have all been let in on your current bet, well all of us that care.” The woman glanced to the table full of the more mature players on the team, of which the closest to you, Sandra turned round and stuck her tongue out at Claudia in retaliation to the comment. “and we want you to know if you do hug the all mighty caitana of ours, what do we get?”

Your eyebrows rose up at this, you were not sure what they were getting at but you knew this would not end well for you. These woman who you cared a lot for, were all strong headed and would not let you get away with anything.

“I did not make this bet in the first place! I don’t not have to do anything with a loss here, which won’t happen because I don’t do feelings as I said.” The words fell on deaf ears, all the women around you just continued to look at you waiting for a better answer than that. Throwing your hands in the air slightly in a very off character show of silliness you spoke “Fine. If I fail, which I won’t I will add again, you can all get a hug each.”

The girls all shared a look with one another, communicating silently about the offer you have given them and whether they would get any better if they pushed. When Mapi turned to you with the smile you could only describe as mischievous, you knew they were happy with what you had offered.

Once the girls had all nodded and attempted to get you to shake on it, which you would not, they finally left you alone to eat your now cold food in peace. Well as much peace as you could get with the lot of them around you still making jokes and laughing about the silliest of things. Something that although you might complain about to them you would never take for granted, being part of this team and this group was always worth the slight inconvenience.

You were putting your plate away when you caught a glimpse of Alexia, the midfielder gave you a small smile before starting to walk towards you. You had started greeting each other with a small hug recently and that came to mind as she got closer. You could feel the eyes of some of the women on the table you just left on your back, you couldn’t hug all of them more. In a moment of sheer panic you turned on your heal and bolted out of the dining room before she could reach you, there was no way you could lose the bet but you also knew you would not be able to deny the beautiful woman her hug. Oh fuck you were in for a long week.

You made it to the stairs down to the pitch when Pina came running up to you with Patri hot on her heels, “That was real smooth and totally not a giveaway to the fact that you are so loosing this bet.” Before you could tap the back of the young players head, they were off back in the direction of the food hall.

You shook your head and started towards the field muttering under your breath about stupid bets with silly teammates and blue eyes so captivating they made your mind fog.

Alexia noticed a difference in you right away, you were not going near her and when you did you would link your fingers behind your back and avoid as much eye contact as you could. A complete change to the stage you had got to with the Spanish midfielder, and Alexia was pretty sure that the group of women giggling and whispering just over her shoulder had something to do with it. She made a mental note to get some information out of them after she spoke to you.

“Whatever is going on here we are talking about it Wednesday, we have dinner with Alba that you promised her you would be there. And as cute as you are all nervous, I do like seeing your eyes.” This got your attention and your head snapped to meet her face. You sheepishly smiled at her and nodded your agreement of what she had told you. You had promised the younger Putellas sister you would have dinner with them after Alba had hijacked a coffee morning of you and Alexia’s. When Alexia went to reach for your fiddling fingers your eyes widened and you hurried out a goodbye before running for the pitch to start training as a distraction.

You were so unsure about your feelings right now, you were so sure this would be easy but it wasn’t. You had never wanted to feel someone's touch before so desperately but you did now, All you wanted was to pull Alexia into you and not let go. God you were in deep.

The next few days at training were hard, between the constant teasing from the group of that you had now dubbed children and the avoiding as much contact or interactions as you could with Alexia in person, you were exhausted. What you didn’t know was that Alexia had managed to find out exactly why your mood towards her had changed, she had overheard Pina and Patri talking about the distance you had obviously put between you both and they were giggling like school girls about you losing the bet very soon.

She could see the toll it was having on you, the twitch in your fingers when she got close and the slight longing look in your eye when she caught it. Alexia decided it was time to step in and help if she could, she hated seeing you and not hugging you at the very least. She was going to talk to you alone and plan how to get through this, and maybe give you a hug to get you through if you didn’t think it was cheating. She was starting to understand that she felt stronger feelings than she had thought previously for you but she wasn’t going to put that on your plate just yet. It wasn’t the time and she didn’t want to lose what you had started to build. This plan of hers would require getting you alone without anyone knowing though which was not going to be an easy task. The girls were keeping both eyes on you at all times waiting for you to break.

Alexia’s only plan was to see you outside of football, that’s how she found herself outside your apartment door. She was nervous which was odd, she was here to help you out but it felt like more. It felt personal and private to be here alone, especially with how she has been feeling over the last month. Shaking that thought off she knocked softly and stepped back to give you some space when you opened the door.

You pulled the door open with a small confused frown on your face, you were just settling down to watch some old game footage for the evening and you weren’t expecting any visitors. Upon seeing the person behind the knock, your face changed into a small, shy smile and you didn’t even asked why she was there just opened the door wider and stepped to the side to allow her to come in.

Alexia whispered a small thank you as she walked past the doorway but what threw you off guard was the kiss she pressed ever so softly to your cheek as she passed you. It had you frozen with your door wide open and staring straight ahead of you. The sound of Alexia hanging her coat on the rack broke you out of your shock and you closed the door and lead her through to your small kitchen to get her a drink.

After getting two bottles of water from the fridge and handing one to the Spanish beauty, you lead her through to the front room to sit on the sofa. You wouldn’t lie to yourself, the itch to hug her was high. Since you laid eyes on her on the doorway to your apartment all you had wanted to do was hug her, be held by her, hold her. But you couldn’t, not if you wanted to keep to the less hugging you are used to, that you would like to continue just with the exception of her.

“Game footage?” Alexia’s smooth voice broke through the silence and caused you to look at her. Having her in your house was surreal, she looked even more beautiful sat in your environment. Your brain flashed to quiet mornings in, sipping coffee on your sofa with the woman cuddled with you speaking about anything and everything. Shaking your head to rid yourself of those unneeded thoughts, you tried to remember what Alexia had just asked.

“Oh yeah, it’s the final you guys won last year. The Copa de la Reina.” You had asked for the footage to see the style of play in which the women played in major tournament games, something you hadn’t seen yet in person. Jona had been more than happy to send it to you, seemingly excited about your thought process and enthusiasm.

“This was a good game, the girls played so well. We would have scored even more if you were there.” You could feel the flush creeping up your neck without your control. You were never one to take compliments well, you just didn’t know what to do or say when someone gave them to you, so you nodded and ducked your head so that the woman next to you couldn’t see what effect she had on you.

Alexia however could see the redness on your neck and it filled her with warmth and hope, hope that the conversation she is about to initiate with you will go the best way it can. It wasn’t a conversation she was planning on having with you today but she felt like it was the right time, that it was only fair to you that you know what she is feeling.

“You scored enough La Reina.” You had broken out of your shyness and gone down the teasing route. You even sent the woman next to you a small cheeky wink.

This took Alexia by surprise, you laughed at the shocked look on her face which snapped her out of it. Digging her fingers into your sides had you barking out a louder different laugh, the woman with you giggling along before taking mercy on you and stopping the movement of her fingers.

As you took a moment to calm your currently ragged breath, you looked up and noticed the position you and Alexia found yourself in. She had one hand behind your back on the sofa which meant she was leaning slightly over you, her hair falling over her face. A face that was only inches away from yours, a face that was smiling down at you and had a look in her eye you couldn’t quite place. Alexia reached up slightly and swept some of your hair behind your ear before doing the same with her own before she spoke.

“This wasn’t how I planned on telling you this but life sometimes works in weird and wonderful ways. I was going to talk to you about this today anyway but right now all I want to do is kiss you. Please can I kiss you?” Alexia held eye contact with you the whole time she spoke, it was only when she finished that her eyes dipped to your lips. You were at a loss for words no words could explain what you felt right now, but you knew you wanted to kiss her too so you nodded.

Not a second after your head had moved did you feel the soft press of the lips that the women you had been slowly falling for connect with yours. You both took a few minutes of soft sweet kisses to map out each other’s lips, both leaning back in whenever a break in the kiss happened neither wanting it to end. By the time Alexia pulled back, you found yourself laying under the older woman, her hands on either side of your head so you weren’t being crushed. You could feel your cheeks heating up once again when you thought about what you just did and what could come from this so you tugged her closer so you could hide in her neck.

Alexia shifted you both so you were laying sideways and she started running her hands through your hair. You had melted into her, snuggled under her chin and soaking up the calmness of the moment when your brain triggered. Pushing yourself backwards away from her you thumped to the ground, hard. “What are you doing y/n? Did you hurt yourself?” Alexia was leaning off the sofa looking over you. Your eyes were wide as you processed you lost the bet, you would now have to deal with the constant asks for hugs and they would know you liked Alexia. You were freaking out and Alexia could see it.

“Y/n carino?” She called you, she didn’t want to startle you but she needed to get through to you. “Miel?” The pet names were slipping out but she didn’t care she was just trying to get through to you. Deciding that her voice wasn’t going to help she got down and kneeled by you before cupping your face and brushing your cheek with her thumb. She saw the moment you come back to her, your eyes locked and yours welled up. “Hey it’s okay, can you tell me what’s got you upset? I’m sorry if I shocked you. I shouldn’t have forced you into that.”

That fully snapped you out of your current running thoughts, you never wanted her to think she did something wrong here. “No, no. You didn’t force me at all, I promise I wanted that just as much if not more than you did. It was more the cuddling after, I lost the bet.” You saw the relief wash over the brunette beauties face before you saw the smile take over and the laugh that bubbled up and out of her mouth. You were confused about what was funny about that but you weren’t complaining about hearing the woman’s sweet laughter.

Alexia composed herself before she explained, “Lo siento, it’s just that I kiss you and all you think about is losing a bet with the girls. You’re lucky I like you and know you because otherwise my pride would be incredibly hurt. And because I know you I know you are worrying about whatever they said you had to do if you lost the bet, but don’t worry about that because they don’t need to know you lost. You have 3 days left before you win and we both know I want you to win.” You blushed at the wink she sent your way as well as the words she spoke, she wanted you to win so maybe you hadn’t lost just yet.

Alexia held out her hand for you to take, which you did without hesitation, and when you grasped it she pulled you both back up onto the sofa and back into a similar position you were in before. This time your back was pressed into her front and she pressed a kiss to your hairline before pressing play on the footage and spending the evening talking the game through with you.

It was the final day of the bet and you, albeit through cheating, were finding not hugging Alexia easy. Yes that was only because you got to hug her outside of being with the team so not hugging her around them wasn’t really a concern to you anymore. The only problem is that the girls were getting suspicious, the longing looks and slight sadness that was you at the beginning of the week had disappeared and they had all noticed. Alexia pointed it out last night and had warned you that they would come at you today to try and win the bet they so really wanted to win.

The two of you had devised a plan that you were sure would catch the others off guard, not to mention prank them at the same time. Your only issue was you weren’t the best at putting things on like emotions so you just hoped the girls didn’t look too much into your facial expressions.

When you saw Leila backed by Patri and Pina on either side of her heading in your direction at training you almost bolted off the field, but they were there already and you bolting wouldn’t make you look any less suspicious anyway. You tried to look a little annoyed before they even started talking so they would get the hint you’d had enough with all this and you wouldn’t have to do the plan you put into place, but they didn’t and so it was time to put the plan into play.

“You’ve been too happy for a girl that has had no physical displays of affection with their major crush in almost a week. Well until today, you’ve got this miss grumpy pants expression on your face constantly.” You grunted at that, at least your slight annoyance about their presence was working in your favour.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You decided the vague approach would be the best, you weren’t one for sharing your feelings normally anyway the girls usually had to prise it out of you and that was what they would have to do for this fake information too. But to put it on a bit more you dropped the sides of your mouth a little when you looked off and saw the Spanish beauty you hoped one day soon you would get to call yours. When you both were ready for that.

You saw Leila follow your eyeline and spot who had made your expression change, turning back to you she gave you a confused look before speaking again, “Why haven’t you spoken to her today, you are normally attached at the hip even though we’ve got this bet on. Has something happened?”

Now was your chance, you mustered up all the thoughts of sad kitten and puppies in the hope of bring at least a single tear to your eye. Blinking rapidly you felt a drop on your cheek and the shocked expression of your friends told you it had worked, and worked at the right time too because before they could ask what was happening or why you were sad training was resumed. Step 1 complete.

You avoided any and all interaction that wasn’t football based throughout all the training session and Alexia help her part of the plan by staying as far away from you as she could. You could tell that your plan was working because by the time you got changed and went to the food hall, all the girls who had a bet with you were huddled round a table whispering and glancing over their shoulders.

Step 2 was well into motion. You kept your head down and collected your food taking it to one of the tables as far into the corner as you could and made sure you had your back to the rest of the hall. When you heard the footfalls head your way you made sure to straighten your posture before grunting out a “What do you want?”

“I want you to come and sit with us like normal. I know you won't talk about what is wrong and I get that but don’t ignore us.” Leila had a point and you knew it. No matter the plan you didn’t want to upset your friends so you stood up and followed her knowing that this might mess up the plan.

When Alexia entered the food hall after her captains meeting, she was confused when she didn’t spot you at the table you said you'd be at. When she scanned the room and spotted you at your normal table she was slightly confused that makes the plan trickier. Deciding that this was obviously okay with you as you were there she went ahead with the plan with the slight change of location although she needed a few minutes to think of something to say now.

The original plan had been for you both to whisper random stuff in a heated way to make it look like you were arguing and then you to storm out but now Alexia actually had to think of words to say that weren’t going to hurt you.

You were listening quietly to a conversation Patri was having with Claudia when Alexia made her way over, you had seen her walk in a little while ago and thought maybe she was going to pull out of the prank plans you had because of your change of location but maybe not. When she reached you, you noticed the faraway look in her eye. You thought maybe she was detaching herself from what she was about to say.

“I need you to leave me alone y/n, I asked you yesterday for you to do this but you still tried to come near me at training. I’m your captain not your friend, I don’t want to be your friend.” You knew she didn’t mean it but you couldn’t help the pang of pain you felt from hearing her say this, at least getting up and leaving because you were upset wasn’t hard to fake. Because you didn’t.

“What the hell Ale?” “Jesus what’s wrong with you?” “She's done nothing to you.” Alexia was bombarded with angry teammates but she wanted nothing more than to run after you. She could have swarm she saw a tear leaving your eye as you got up which wasn’t part of the plan.

“She stopped whatever was happening between us, I liked her and she just stopped.” Alexia wanted to teach the girls a lesson still like planned so she said what you asked her to days ago when you made the plan. She looked around the group as their faces fell, each and every one of them at least had the decency to have guilty looks plastered across their faces.

“Oh god what have we done.” Leila was the first to speak and before Alexia could ask her what she meant, even if she already knew, Claudia was spilling the whole bet. Alexia listened to it all before she turned on her heels abruptly. “Idiotas” With that being said she left the hall in search of you.

Alexia found you in your safe spot, the pitch. You were laying in the centre circle staring up at the clouds that had just covered the sun, temporarily giving you a relief from the heat. She made her way over to you and laid next to you before snaking her fingers down your arm and slotting your hands together. She was incredibly relieved when you didn’t pull away, even let a small smile slip out when you squeezed her hand.

“You didn’t mean what you said right?” Your voice was small and insecure she could hear it. Alexia vowed to herself at that moment she would do all she could to make sure you never doubted how she felt for you from that moment on.

“Well maybe slightly…” Alexia was cut off when you attempted to sit up and pull your hand away, something she didn’t let you do. “No wait listen hermosa, I meant that I slightly meant it because I don’t just want to be your friend. I want to be your one, the one you feel safe with, the one that you call on bad days, the one that hopefully one day you come home to. I want you to be my girl.”

You could feel the tears slip down your cheeks as you pulled on the woman's hand to get her closer to you, just where you wanted her. “I was yours the moment you hugged me that first time.”

The smile you shared would be one you would remember for a long time, both of your building feelings shone in your eyes. You tugged a little harder on your joined hands and Alexia fell into you. You didn’t even give her a second to think before you connected your lips to hers. The two of you sat there on the training ground pitch sharing sweet kiss for a few minutes, soaking up the new development in your shared chapter.

When you pulled back to lay back down Alexia followed, she tucked her head into the crook of your neck and made herself comfortable against your side. She was just doing off in the comfort you made her feel when the scream came from the tunnel.

“Your hugging La Reina! We win. Y/n you better get rid of your girl because I want me promised hug.” Leila’s loud mouth really did project in the quiet of the almost empty field.

You bolted upright, grabbed your now girlfriends hand and shared a quick look before saying. “Run.”

#woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas imagines #alexia putellas x reader

[theblueseassoul]

“Attention”

Rafayel x reader

No warnings

No use of y/n. Gender neutral reader. Read in the second person. Established relationship. Reader has a a ginger one eyed Maine-coone named Mao (m-ow).

Rafayel lounged in your living room, legs thrown over the arms of the chair and his neck resting on the other. He had his phone held over him, waiting for you to come home. You’d been out getting groceries, and though you’d only been gone for a little while he was already missing you. Mao was laying on a pillow on the other couch where you typically sat, staring at the artist. He glanced over and sighed softly, shaking his head “Cats..” he murmured and switched to messages on his phone, pointing the camera at Mao and sending it to you, and then typing

‘Babe… your cat looks like it wants to eat me for dinner.. hurry home!’

You were getting out of your car, picking up a bag as you felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. You furrowed your brows and took it out, clicking on the notification that read ‘From: Fish-Husband.’ It had been a joke at first with how often he acted like a fish, but now it was just a “cute” nickname. For you anyways. You raised a brow at the message and smiled softly when you clicked onto the picture of your beloved cat. You shook your head, replying.

‘I’m almost home. Will you survive?’

You could almost imagine his dramatic sigh as the message displayed that he’d left you on read. You gathered the rest of your groceries and bumped your car door closed with your hip, turning your heel and jogging up the driveway to save your boyfriend from the oh so ferocious cat of yours.

When you opened the door, you were greeted with both a delighted meow and “There they are.” You chuckled as you settled your gaze on the pair of attention seekers in your living room. Mao pranced over to you, tail swaying slowly. He brushed up against your legs as Rafayel approached, and you put down your bags, picking up your large ginger cat and pressing a firm kiss on its forehead resulting in a happy ‘mrrp’ from it. “Hello gorgeous.” You coo’d, hugging your cat to your chest as he curled closer into your body, a paw firmly resting against your shoulder. Rafayel cleared his throat, and when you looked at him he sighed dramatically “The cat gets the first kiss? I see where I stand..” you rolled your eyes with a smile and murmured to Mao “What a drama king.” Who purred in agreement.

You put Mao down and took Rafayels face into your hands, pressing a firm kiss against his forehead as well “Hello, Rafayel.” He slotted his arms around your waist and shook his head “No sweet Nick names either…” he pouted. You had such a dramatic boyfriend, you wondered how long he could keep the act up but you realized the answer was something far too large for you to want to consider. You just squeezed his cheeks “does needy work? How about…” you trailed off in feign consideration as he rolled his eyes. You laughed and he pressed a brief kiss to your lips as he murmured “I can’t stand you.” You shook your head and gently pat his forearms “then go sit back down.” And with that you broke from his grasp and returned to the task at hand. Groceries. With some complaints, Rafayel eventually followed suit and helped you put everything away. And of course, your trusty cat companion was running circles around and between your legs whenever possible.

Later, you had curled up on the bed with your comfortable clothes. You had the tv playing a show you were really into with one of the claw machine stuffed animals resting against your stomach. Mao hopped onto the bed and meowed at you, demandingly. “What?” You furrowed your brows. You talked back to him often, as both of you were very talkative. He meowed again. “So much sass for such a tiny creature. Come here.” You put the stuffed animal to the side and pulled the cat onto your lap, who happily curled up on your legs and pressed its face into your stomach. Not too long after, Rafayel came in carrying a cup of water for you. He paused and sighed, hand on his hip as he stared at Mao. And of course another one of his bright ideas struck.

“Baby…” he groaned, putting the glass down and sitting on the edge of the bed. You glanced over and raised a brow, “what’s the matter?” He sighed and hung his head, looking away “I don’t feel well..” your worry increased with his almost sad tone. You knew he was silly, and acted over the top sometimes, but you would still worry. You moved, which resulted in an angry grumble from your very fluffy cat. Rafayel clicked his tongue as you gently bickered with mao before pushing your cat to the side and pressed your hand against Rafayel’s forehead. “You don’t feel too warm.” You commented.

Rafayel took you by your wrist and held your hand against his cheek, “my love..” he sniffed. You smiled fondly and shifted, patting your lap “lay down.” To which he immediately did. His head plopped into your lap, and your fingers combed through his dark hair. Mao bat at his head gently but you shooed the paw away “be nice.” Rafayel hummed and nodded “I was here first, I don’t think he gets that.” It was true. You’d only gotten Mao slightly after you met Rafayel but you two bonded quickly. You just had an affinity for animals. Especially fishes. You thought to yourself as you looked down at your boyfriend, looking up at you with sparkling eyes.

“What’s that look for?” You asked, brushing some of his bangs out of his face. He reached up, gently running his index finger over your jaw before resting it back against your leg, next to his head. “I love you.” He suddenly said. You nodded and closed your eyes, “I love you.” You hated ‘I love you too.’ You don’t say it just because he did and that makes it an ‘obligation’, you did just love him. He thought it was strange however enjoyed it nonetheless, you could tell by the glimmer in his eyes and the small curl of his lips. “I feel like you love that fish-eater more.” He commented almost pouting. You shook your head and rested your hand in his hair, “no…”

“I couldn’t love anything more than you. You may be over dramatic, sassy..” you started. “Babe.” He sighed. You rolled your eyes and smiled tenderly “but you are also the most amazing man I’ve ever met. Talented, too. And handsome.” You complimented him, resulting in a charming grin from the male laying in your lap. You twirled a piece of his hair around your finger “nothing could ever add up to you. I love Mao. I love you. Mao is like.. my son.” You said. “And you of course are like my husband.” You then added “my very fishy husband.” He groaned, swatting your hand away as you poked his nose. However he was smiling. “Nothing could replace you.”

He nodded and sat up slightly, just enough for his lips to meet yours. You couldn’t help but smile into it, and he left another kiss at the corners of your mouth, and then a final one at your cheek. “Good. Remember those words.” You hummed and carefully laid him back down into your lap “I have a very good memory. You underestimated me.”

#x reader #fan fiction #love and deepspace x reader #love and deep space rafayel

[ohnoitstbskyen]

Are there any champions from Piltover/Zaun or beyond, who didn't show up in s1 of Arcane, who you'd like to see in s2? Both from a “this character would work really well with the story” perspective, and a “I just really like this champion” perspective.

Mm... I'm really wary about introducing more characters, honestly. Arcane's first season was already absolutely crammed to the gills with characters and one of my criticisms of Season 1 is that while everything that was in it was very very good, it was also so incredibly dense that the audience barely has time to breathe.

It's the kind of delicate balance where it feels like they just barely had the time and space to tell the stories of the main ensemble, and introducing more champions into that mix might make it all tip over.

That said, they do have the advantage that all the introductions and worldbuilding have basically been done now, and there's probably room to introduce one or two more characters to shake things up.

Instinctively I want to say Camille, except it makes no bloody sense why she'd only turn up in Season 2 and have been a complete non-presence in Season 1. Like, there was some shit happening that she should have been involved with in the first season.

Renata Glasc is an option. Zaun is going to have a big power vacuum and she would slot in very nicely as the new major power in the undercity. On the other hand, she's also perhaps a little bit too much like Silco 2.0, being partly based on him in the first place, and I think there's a solid argument for bringing the chembarons from season 1 back to fight with each other instead. Especially since one of them has a literal death vendetta against Jayce now.

Then there's Orianna, who in this canon seems to be Singed's... daughter? Some kind of family member? If all of Singed's research in the first season was about trying to find a way to save her life or bring her back to life, then she'd be a natural character to use to expand on Singed as a character in season 2. I think she'd have to be substantially redesigned, though - "music box ballerina" would be a weird thing for Singed to want to build her into.

Seraphine and Zeri are non-starters, I think, primarily because they are both mages, which would make absolutely no sense in the Arcane universe. Like, it is kind of important to the plot of Arcane that mages are essentially as rare as cryptids in this world. Same reason I don't think they'd introduce something like Janna either. She's a literal demigod, it would raise too many unanswerable questions.

There's no reason to bring in Ezreal, Zac, or Dr. Mundo, but Urgot is... not out of the question. He's the kind of relentlessly dogmatic, bloodthirsty cult leader that would make sense as a figure in the chaos and violence of the war that's likely to erupt. Twitch could also cameo, I suppose, but only as a cameo, I don't think it makes sense to make him a central character.

Outside of Piltover and Zaun, I'd say the main champions we are likely to encounter would be Swain or Darius (Darius specifically was most likely teased by Ambessa), and if Darius shows up there's a greater than average chance he'll have Draven with him. It's not impossible that Samira could show up for a bit of a cameo, as some kind of Noxian bounty hunter getting in the way of things. Katarina and Talon are... not impossible, I suppose, Noxus is probably going to want to assassinate someone, but I also doubt they'd introduce a champion character to fill that role in the narrative. It'd be wasteful.

If Noxus is making moves, of course, there's a non-zero chance that there'll be like a Demacian diplomat at some meeting, which... makes it possible that Xin Zhao or Garen might cameo, and if Noxus wants Piltover's technology to prosecute their war in Ionia, hey, maybe there will be Ionian diplomat characters showing up to plead their case, which opens the distant possibility of someone like Irelia or Shen showing up.

I very, very much doubt it though.

tl;dr in my opinion:

Most likely new champions: Darius, Swain, Orianna, and Warwick (Warwick being Vander)

Not impossible: Twitch, Urgot, Renata Glasc, Draven, Camille

Extremely small Easter Egg cameos at best: Xin Zhao/Garen/Jarvan, Irelia/Shen/Karma, Azir (Shurima is Piltover's southern neighbor), Miss Fortune/Gangplank (Piltover controls the sea gate and trade between two oceans), Ziggs (Heimerdinger's best friend), Ryze (the science boys are starting to fuck with World Rune-level magic hazards), Vel'koz (might show up in a Void vision inside the Hexcore or something).

#tb answers #arcane #arcane netflix

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

hello!

I’ve been thinking about this prompt for awhile now, but I’d like to hear your takes on it! if say another event like lost in the book happened but instead of stitch, they meet Winnie the Pooh and his friends— which of the cast do you think would relate most to the characters?

I uh 😅 don’t know a lot about Winnie the Pooh or its characters, so my thoughts here are based on very, veeery basic understandings of them.

Pooh — His defining trait is his loyalty and willingness to help others, so I automatically don’t see many of the NRC boys relating to Pooh’s softness. He might be a better fit with one of the light cosmic element boys (Kalim, Silver, even Rook) or Yuu.

Piglet — He’s soft spoken and always nervous or worrying about something. I think of Epel and Idia as the "soft spoken" ones of the group, but Idia is the more generally anxious one. Epel's only really "shy and meek" when he's forced to act more polite; his true personality is much rowdier and more stubborn.

Tigger — Tigger is bright and enthusiastic. Any number of the cheerier members of the main cast could fit here with him: Cater, Kalim, etc. I would say Sebek (at least when it's a Malleus-related task or sentiment) works.

Eeyore — The most “different” of the Pooh cast; Eeyore tends to be down in the dumps and/or unenthusiastic. I see Idia and Leona best relating to Eeyore, since the former is usually pessimistic about everything while the latter has depressive symptoms that he usually masks with arrogant confidence.

Rabbit — Prideful and stubborn self-appointed leader, but ready to hop into action when he is called upon. Most of the dorm leaders could honestly slot in nicely here, particularly Riddle (whom we see in book 6 trying to be the "leader" of his group with Azul and has a generally very rigid way of thinking).

Kanga and Roo — Loving mother and curious, adventurous son duo. Various combinations can work here, although each pairing kind of represents a different kind of parent-child or general familial relationship. (Vil and Epel, Trey and Riddle, Idia and Ortho, Leona and Cheka, Jamil and Kalim, etc.) It really depends on how you want to look at it.

Owl — A know-it-all who actually dispenses the wrong information more often than not. I'd say Lilia or Jade is most Owl-like. They're the most likely to share false knowledge, but unlike Owl, it doesn't come from a place of genuinely not knowing but rather purposefully fucking up the information to mess with people.

Christopher Robin — A kind and helpful boy who shares his stories with the animals of the 100 Acre Woods. I wasn’t sure if I should include him here, but the Disney website lists him as a core member of the cast so I thought, “might as well!” Since Christopher Robin is the "odd one out" who shares stories with everyone, which i think it suits Yuu (the photographer/one who records memories) quite well.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #question #Winnie the Pooh #Pooh bear #Piglet #Tigger #Owl #Rabbit #Christopher Robin #Kanga #Roo #Eeyore #Yuu #Silver #Kalim Al-Asim #Jamil Viper #Scarabia #Rook Hunt #Leona Kingscholar #Cater Diamond #Riddle Rosehearts #Trey Clover #Idia Shroud #Ortho Shroud #Ignihyde #Epel Felmier

[fivie]

I keep thinking about how well grantaire and anna would get along (before she gets re-brainwashed)... i know you've moved away from spn canon with UMW but do you have thoughts on how your characters would theoretically interact with spn characters?

ah yes, the re-brainwashing was very unfortunate 😔

my main headcanon re. UMW characters meeting SPN characters is that if Enjolras and Grantaire met Sam and Dean, based on Enjolras's personality and him having the sword, they would absolutely assume he was the angel of the pair 😂 Dean would probably commiserate with Grantaire about the challenges of hanging out with a socially challenged angel, and Grantaire would absolutely go along with it. Then Cas would show up and be like 'hello brother 😐' and spoil his fun.

I think Enjolras and Dean would butt heads, but Sam and Combeferre would probably get along quite well. I hope the spirit of Victor Hugo can't see me typing this.

Ages ago I actually started writing a little crossover story just for fun but I found it really weird 😂 I don't know if I'll ever write any more of it so I'll put what I have under a cut here if anyone wants to read it lol

(it is definitely not UMW canon 😂)

Grantaire is in a long-abandoned barn in rural Belgium, idly sweeping up the ashy remains of the shapeshifter that had been terrorising the nearby village in the guise of a local cryptid legend, when Combeferre pops into his mind with a bemusing prayer:

Don't come back to my apartment right now.

Grantaire pauses, awaiting further details. If Combeferre were in danger, he's sure he wouldn't bother beating around the bush, so Grantaire isn't overly worried, but Combeferre has never told him to stay away before and so he waits, curious. A minute or so later, an even more bemusing continuation:

Or if you do, make sure you come in through the front door like a human would.

Sometimes Grantaire desperately wishes that the prayer communication line went both ways. Combeferre feels distracted, like there are many other things demanding his attention and he is snatching at quiet moments to send Grantaire fragmented intel. Finally:

Other hunters here.

With that, the pieces slot together. Grantaire personally thinks it would be kind of funny for him to drop in on a room full of Musain hunters, especially the ones who'd written him off as a drunken waste of space years ago, and he could always erase their memories after if it was going to cause problems, but he supposes that Combeferre's solution of just keeping him away for a while is simpler. He finishes his clean up and is just about to return to Jehan's house when Combeferre reaches out again.

Could use your expertise for this. Come back if you're able? But please be discreet.

Grantaire snorts. He thinks he'll enjoy having a conversation with Combeferre later about why it's okay to pretend that he's human to other hunters, but not to Enjolras or Combeferre himself. He's well aware of the difference and the reasoning, of course, but he does like watching Combeferre wrestle with a moral quandary.

Enjolras is here, too.

This last part sounds like a warning, and Grantaire supposes it is, and one he should be thankful for. He braces himself before flying back to Combeferre's building, going up the stairs with pointed emphasis and hoping everyone in the apartment can hear his very normal, very human footsteps approaching. He opens the apartment door, calling out a greeting, and he steps inside and the world stops.

The other angel in Combeferre's living room stares at him, his human face registering only mild surprise even as his luminous true form roils and sparks in shock and alarm and, of course, horrifyingly, recognition. Grantaire stares back for a wild, world-tilting moment, and then he flies in a mad flurry, grabbing Enjolras and Combeferre and taking them to the furthest side of the room, pushing them behind him. Combeferre, who had just expressly told Grantaire to be on his best and most human behaviour, calls his name in confused dismay, and Enjolras is saying something too, demanding to know what he's doing, and there are two other humans here too, making their own noise, but then—

"Hello, brother," Castiel says, and all the humans in the room fall deathly silent.

Grantaire doesn't answer. His hand instinctively twitches to curl around the handle of a blade not currently in his possession. He can feel the presence of his sword burning in Enjolras's coat pocket and he wonders if the split second it would take for him to get to it will mean fiery death for all of them.

Three thousand years, he thinks. Three thousand years he successfully kept his head down, and then Combeferre goes and invites another angel into his living room—!

"Aw no, brother?" one of the new humans repeats. Grantaire doesn't dare take his eyes off Castiel, but the human sounds exasperated. He also sounds American, which raises many questions but also answers the one of why they are all here and not at the Musain. Grantaire can only imagine the Musain hunters' reaction to Americans descending upon their home base. "Cas, are you serious?"

"He's pretty clearly serious." The other human puts himself in Grantaire's line of vision, stepping between him and Castiel with one hand raised placatingly. He's uncommonly tall and more than broad enough in the shoulders to be considered physically imposing by human standards, but his posture and expression are currently extremely non-confrontational—he looks nervous, and sort of concerned. He looks at Grantaire first but then, clearly finding no invitation in his stony face, tilts his head to look past him at Enjolras and Combeferre instead. "So, uh. Got yourselves an angel."

"As do you, it would seem," Combeferre says with measured calm. It's strange to hear him speak English. Out of the corner of his eye, Grantaire sees him take half a step forward and hisses back at him, "Don't."

"Hey, who are you? Do we know you?" the first human says suddenly. "Are you an old douchebag in a new meat-suit?"

"Dean," Castiel says in quiet admonishment.

"What? It's not like we can tell."

"You don't know him," Castiel tells him before turning back to Grantaire. "This isn't necessary. I'm not going to harm you or these humans. You should calm yourself."

"And if you want to harm Cas then we're going to have a problem," the tall human says.

Grantaire makes no attempt to calm himself. "Are you alone?" he demands of Castiel, whose vessel affects a faintly puzzled expression.

"I'm here with Sam and Dean," he says slowly, and Grantaire scowls.

"I mean," he says, "where is your garrison?"

"I no longer serve Heaven, Rachmiel," Castiel says in oddly gentle tones, as if he's just realised why Grantaire would be so horrified to see him.

"Do not call me that," Grantaire snaps with a sharp shake of his head. "You—what do you mean?"

"I am...fallen." There's a strange mixture of pride and shame in Castiel's voice as he says it. "My loyalties were tested and I found them to lie more with humanity than with our brothers and sisters."

"You…" Grantaire's mind, emerging from the initial shock, starts to piece things together, starts to remember. "I saw you. Last year. You were killing angels and humans. Hundreds of them."

"Hey, that wasn't Cas," one of the humans, Dean, starts to protest, while Grantaire hears twin sharp intakes of breath from Combeferre and Enjolras as they apparently make the connection between the God-Monster they'd seen on screen all those months ago and the mild-mannered man standing before them now.

"Look, okay, let's...We didn't come here to fight," says the other human, whom Grantaire assumes, through elimination, to be Sam. "It's complicated, okay? But Castiel is with us. He's not the bad guy. He's saved our lives more times than I can count and—hell, he helped us stop the apocalypse."

"Did he say the apocalypse?" Grantaire hears Enjolras mutter behind him.

"What did you two have to do with the…?" Grantaire looks at the two strangers properly for the first time and feels a fresh wave of hysteria. There is a lot to be read from their souls that he will unpack later, but most pressingly, he can see who they are—what they are. "You're the vessels." His undoubtedly wild-eyed gaze swings back to Castiel. "You're walking around with Michael and Lucifer's vessels? You brought them here?"

"Michael and Lucifer are both in the cage," Castiel says. "I do not expect they will be coming looking for their vessels."

"And they already know that they do not have consent to take either of us for a ride," Dean says with a grimly sardonic smile.

Grantaire's head feels like it's going to explode, which wouldn't kill him but would undoubtedly be very distressing for Enjolras and Combeferre to witness. He wills his vessel to hold it together.

"Grantaire," Combeferre says quietly—even that makes him jump. Combeferre speaks to him in soft, rapid-fire French that the Americans clearly do not understand and that Castiel politely pretends not to hear. "If he's really broken with Heaven, isn't that a good thing? For you to not be the only one?"

Grantaire casts a somewhat tortured glance back at him, not anywhere near ready to accept the idea that running into anyone from his family could ever be good, before looking inevitably back to Castiel, unable to keep his eyes from returning to the perceived threat in the room.

"It is good to see you," Castiel says, horribly earnest. "I believed you dead."

"Yeah, that was the idea," Grantaire snaps. Castiel tilts his head to one side like a confused puppy, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.

"You've been in hiding," he hazards finally.

"Pretty successfully, up until now," Grantaire says.

"Hey, just like Gabriel," Dean remarks. "You gotta wonder how many other angels flew the coop."

"Gabriel," Combeferre repeats in tones of disbelief that match Grantaire's own feelings. "The archangel? He also…?"

"Gabriel is dead," Grantaire says bluntly.

"Yeah, but he had a good run hanging out down here pretending to be a trickster god," Dean says with a smile that suggests not-so-fond remembrance. "What've you been hiding out as? Some other deity?"

There's an agonising sort of pause, and then it's Enjolras who says, not without bitterness, "A human."

Dean whistles. "That's a bold choice."

"Rachmiel," Castiel says, and Grantaire wants to scream. "Heaven will not hear of any of this from me. You and your humans are safe. Please. I—Here."

He puts one hand up as if in surrender while his blade falls from the sleeve of his coat into his other hand. He holds it up, slowly and demonstratively, before setting it down on Combeferre's coffee table and stepping back.

There is a very strange, very awkward moment where Castiel and his two humans look at Grantaire expectantly, waiting for him to return the gesture and disarm. Finally, Enjolras steps forward. He catches Grantaire's eye questioningly and, at his nod, takes Grantaire's blade out of his own coat and lays it next to Castiel's. Dean and Sam's eyebrows shoot up and Castiel gives a slow, considered blink, but mercifully all three of them refrain from saying anything about the matter.

#umw stuff

[writingjourney]

What’s this I hear about no one asking about domestic Copia. I want to know about it please 🥺

I shared a snippet of that one here but I actually have something else I can give you! It's a very short thing about Copia and you being apart and developing a silly case of separation anxiety, no idea if I'm going to do anything longer with it. I wrote this months ago and didn't really edit it, but I might as well share what I have as a little treat for your support :)

Separation Anxiety – Copia x gn!reader, silly fluff ♡

He’s glancing at the door every two seconds, like you’d magically appear faster if he only tried hard enough. The volume of the movie Copia put on for distraction is almost on mute, just in case. He doesn’t want to miss the sound of your steps, the rattling of your keys. You’re always so quiet, the sounds you make barely audible whenever you arrive home. He knows you’ll be extra quiet tonight, assuming he’s already sleeping.

As if he could, without your warm cheek on his chest, your bodies pressed together like one.

His eyes stray to the door again, the knob still unmoving. His frequent sighs become louder, more and more desperate as he waits. Slender fingers dig into the soft upholstery of the couch until he releases them, only to repeat the gesture, tapping his thigh for good measure in between. Copia is fidgety, impatient, nervous even. After not even forty-eight hours without you, he’s positive that he’s starting to lose his mind and every passing second is one step closer to the edge.

Love can be so cruel. He spent half a decade without you and now suddenly one night becomes too much. His eyes only closed during the early morning hours when his exhaustion finally gifted him two hours of sleep. And then he woke up in utter confusion as his alarm went off, reaching out for the familiar shape of your body, only to touch the cold and empty sheets.

It’s not like he fully cried after that, there were no actual tears involved. But his eyes burnt, the ghost of the all-consuming loneliness that accompanied him for so long still clinging to his weary bones. It’s a feeling he can’t quite forget, if only because the emptiness is now filled with so much love and warmth that he still startles every now and then, expecting to find nothing.

Another glance at the door. It’s taunting him. By now he’s sure the knots of the wood form a face,  a grotesque grin. When he stares long enough the knob starts moving but then he squints and it’s still again, a mere trick of the eyes.

Your latest text said you would be arriving in half an hour. That was thirty-five minutes ago. Copia jumps up, makes for the door. He could catch you in the hallway, maybe even by the main entrance. He’s halfway to the door when he stops dead in his tracks. No, too eager, too needy. He takes a few steps back. Actually no, he should just sit down. Or would that make it seem like he’s indifferent?

Suddenly the door creeks open, accompanied by a pained groan.

In his nervous frenzy, Copia missed any of the earlier sounds and now he jumps up again, his heart beating so fast that he’s dizzy and disoriented. Then his brain stops working. He sees your tired face peeking through the gap as you wrestle with your bag and finally push the door open with your butt. Copia is there before he’s aware what he’s doing, his arms wrapping around you on their own accord. Your bag gives a dull thud as it lands on the floor and you squeal in surprise. He caught you sideways and now you shift in his arms, molding into him until you’re the perfect shape for his embrace. Your bodies slot together like two matching puzzle pieces.

“Amore,” he whispers, breathing you in with a loud inhale. There’s your smell again, the familiar tickle of your hair against his face, your warmth seeping into his pores. It’s almost too much and yet his instinct is to squeeze even tighter, so tight that you let out a strangled sound, the air all but wrung out of you. Regardless, your arms wrap around him just as desperately. Your hands grip the fabric of his red hoodie so tightly that he feels your nails scraping over his back.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper. “I’ll never leave again.”

His heart gives a jolt at your words, at the realisation that maybe, just maybe your days have felt just as heavy as his, gray and dull and devoid of any light. Could it truly be that his presence is such a comfort to you, that he means so much to you that being without him brings you such pain? He struggles to make sense of it.

“Mia amata, luce della mia vita, I will never let you go again.” He nuzzles your neck, kissing the tender spot below your ear, running his hands over every part of your body he can reach. His fingers recognise every curve, every hill and valley, and yet he feels the need to re-commit them to his memory in exquisite detail. The moment this door closes behind you, he will pull you over to the bed and kiss you breathless, but right now he needs to hold you just a little bit longer.

#copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #cardinal copia x reader #the band ghost fanfiction

[scintillyyy]

i just sometimes think with unpacking misogyny in comics we do need to move a bit beyond "this male character was condescending/mean to this female character and that's sexist and evil" and really get into the meat of how women are viewed as a class within the media in question.

because take robin (1993). the problem with it is not so much tim being mean to steph after steph has made a mistake that almost got or would have gotten someone hurt (such as the robin 80 page giant). the problem with it is also not *necessarily* that some main character traits of steph's are that she's never quite as good as everyone else and she's kind of a liability in the field and she's kind of prone to making mistakes (these are all things that make her a 3d character that's interesting, actually. and are fairly consistent character traits you see under writers who aren't dixon--including kelley puckett, devin grayson, lewis, scott, gabrych etc. the problem is really more the rather unfortunate execution of them than the fact that these character traits exist). the problem underpinning a lot of the issues people take with robin is how the writers view women as a class, and how write their female characters accordingly.

so take dixon. and to dixon, women are both extremely hypercompetent and also extremely incompetent at the same time. this is how he envisualizes women--they need men, but at the same time they are still capable of everything and more. and he also has a tendency to slot women into either the extremely hypercompetent, badass amazing role or the slightly incompetent, but still underestimated and badass role. and it's a sexist, reductive view of women as a class and it's why those character traits of steph that are interesting don't really work well under his writing. because steph very much starts off as the second one--and it's frustrating that she's never given a real chance, that she's given the role of being the more incompetent one who will never be as good as everyone else merely because she is a girl and that is the role she's alloted in life based on how dixon views women as a class.

however dixon's opposite tendency towards if a women isn't incompetent, she's gotta be hypercompetent is also sexist. i think a lot of that panel in robin where bruce tells steph she could be better than tim if she works hard enough, and it's interesting to me because people will forgive this because it's being nice to steph but it's also completely and wholly emblematic of dixon's brand of misogyny. because if she can't be incompetent, she has to be hypercompetent. there's no in between for how dixon views women.

and it's an especially interesting quote to me give the surrounding context--that particular quote takes place at a time when we know dixon had been begging for quite a bit of time to reward steph for her hard work and perserverence with robin. and we know that his plan for her as robin was going to be that she was just so hypercompetent and good and amazing and better than anyone at it, it was just going to fall apart because bruce would be too worried about her because she's a girl and be ultimately unable to work with her. so his story for her was going to swing from she's kind of bad at everything because she's a girl (bad, terrible way of how dixon views women) straight to she's amazing at everything because she was actually destined to be a hypercompetent female all along (which also happens to be a bad, terrible way of how dixon views women). it's definitely a total fuck you quote to editorial that kept refusing the idea of steph as robin. it is a fascinating facet of his sexism. and it's a reflection of how misogyny works in real life, too. the cultural expectations for women to either be the best or be nothing at all is a very real phenomenon.

because that's how it is as a whole. so when you just focus on how the male characters treat the female characters you're missing out on so much else that's misogynistic within a female character's story. misogyny in a narrative is about so much more than how one character is treated (though that's also important). it's about how even their successes/how they're treated "well" have to be viewed under a critical lens. the thing is that fixing misogyny is about ensuring there's an authentic variety and meaningful differences in how women are treated narratively, not just fitting them into a box of competent or not competent.

#this is a bit part of why bg09 ultimate doesn't fix the problem just by making steph the competent one for once btw #making steph competent for once is couched in a massively misogynistic and ableist narrative that does view women as a class #as a monolith of unreasonable and catty #sorry but even the steph and damian team up is teeming in misogynistic ideals of boys vs girl

[touteslespetiteschosess]

Love To Hate Me || Kylian Mbappé

Plot: Kylian had it all figured out, he'd finally move away from PSG after one more year in red and blue, so why did this random woman have to come and ruin everything for him?

Warnings: Kylian being very mildly sexist (for character growth of course<3)

Word Count: 1276

Masterlist

"But you leaked it?"

"No, I didn't."

Kylian's face was a flat line, though with every word she said, his lips inched closer to a frown. His hazel eyes were fixed on her, sat across from him.

"Your team did and given that the main man in your team is your father, I'd say you were well aware it was going to happen."

Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, each strand neatly slicked back. Surely that hurt her head, maybe it restricted blood flow to her brain- maybe that's why she was such a dick!

His life had been perfectly planned out, his career finally making sense, looking like it was going somewhere. Then, the new manager had arrived and so had his stupid, new PR head. What had been wrong with the old head of PR? Nothing! Sure, he was elderly, out of touch, and not very good at his job and his replacement was young and sharp and beautiful and... that wasn't relevant to her work.

How dare she barge in here in her six-inch heels and her tight, tight blouse and tarnish his name? Who even needed heels that high for work?

He was Kylian Mbappé; he'd given everything for this club and for his country and when he'd written that letter all he'd wanted was a peaceful exit from the team. Now, not only the Parisian media but all media in France and worldwide hated him. Maybe the only people who liked him right now were Spanish journalists.

"Kylian, I admire you greatly. You are a brilliant player and I know your worth." Enrique, the coach, said from his seat beside y/n, "So do my superiors and surely you're aware that we really can't let you go on a free transfer."

"I didn't ask to go on a free transfer, I just said I am not willing to extend my contract." he defended.

"But you want to play until the end of the season when your contract runs out, and no team in their right mind would therefore buy you weeks before you become a free agent."

Y/n spoke quickly yet clearly, sure in her words and sure in herself. When she finished, her lips, painted a dark rose, settled in a line, as she blinked once, twice, her long lashes fluttering.

"Last time I checked, dealing with transfers wasn't in your job description," he bit back.

"No, I'm in charge of the team's image which your transfers are really tarnishing, so you've kind of dragged them to my attention yourself."

"I told you, I didn't leak the letter."

"Oh, well if you say you didn't, you must be telling the truth. I will get my goons to slowly torture each of your teammates until one of them admits to the crime."

Her composed watch didn't shift from him. He glared at her. If looks could kill.

"That won't be necessary, Miss Briggs. Kylian, we have two options here." Enrique said, calmly, "Option one, you and your posse agree to start negotiations with us for a contract extension and-"

"I choose option two." Kylian cut in, bluntly, scowling at the entire room.

"Great. So, option two, we'll exclude you from the squad for the Japan tour and you can spend the Summer training with the loft." Enrique declared, standing up and gathering his files from the desk, "Great talk. Very productive."

As the coach exited, his team leaving with him, Kylian sat there dumbfounded. The only person who remained in the room was y/n, as she jotted something down in her notebook. Finishing writing, she snapped the cover shut and slotted her pen into her blouse's chest pocket. His eyes followed it. Glancing up, she watched him watching her for a couple of seconds before she stood up.

"So, that's it, I'm just fucking cut from the squad?" he seethed.

She nodded, easily humming, "Mhm. What did you expect?"

"You know I love this club. You and Enrique can't just march in here and bench me. I'm Kylian Mbappé."

"I didn't bench you." she scoffed, starting for the door.

"Please, I don't know who you are but for some reason, Enrique listens to what you say and I know you had a hand in this. I don't know why he trusts your opinions since you don't even know football, but stay out of my way, okay?"

She stopped dead in her tracks, spinning around slowly, her mouth slightly agape, though her lips curled up ever so slightly in a way that told him he was a dead man walking.

"Luis respects what I say because I'm good at my job. I know that you're not used to working alongside women and maybe your fragile ego can't handle being booted out of the squad but you brought this on yourself, Mbappé. I don't work for you or Luis, I work for Paris Saint-Germain and I'll do what's best for the club. So, here's my advice, from one master of their field to another, get your shit together and sign a new contract or come September time you might find yourself at a club you like a whole lot less than this one. How does the Qatari league sound? Your whole internalised chauvinism thing will go over a treat there. Like one of the locals already!"

With that, she stormed out of the door, her hips swaying, and he was truly alone in the huge meeting room. Hesitantly, he pulled out his phone and quickly punched in a Google search: chauvinism definition.

chauvinism: excessive or prejudiced support for one's own cause or group, in particular male prejudice against women

He frowned, surely that was a bit far. He didn't hate her because she was a woman. He hated her because she was ruining his life. That had nothing to do with her gender. Well, maybe his burning desire for her contributed to his hatred. He'd never hated the old head of PR this much and maybe that was because he was old and wrinkled and didn't wear blouses that tight or skirts that tight or watch him with eyes like that and-

No, he wasn't attracted to her. Well, not like that. Yes, she was a very attractive woman, that was a fact, but he knew lots of attractive women. He wasn't attracted to her, he could just appreciate that she was, well, attractive and- God, what was he doing? Why were his thoughts spiralling like this, perv?

Maybe he just hated her because she was loud and arrogant and seemed to think Kylian was the enemy and that in vanquishing him, she was doing Paris, nay France, a great service. Noble warrior.

Well, she'd made a big mistake.

Maybe journalists and fans would turn against him for a couple of weeks, caught up in the excitement of his gripping transfer saga. That didn't matter because at the end of the day, he was Kylian Mbappé. He'd lead France to that trophy in 2018, even if he'd been a teenager, and he'd scored three goals and a fucking penalty in the world cup final after that. The country wouldn't turn against him for long, that was for sure.

She'd tried to turn him into the enemy but all she'd really done was make the biggest mistake of all. She'd made herself his enemy, and she'd sorely regret that.

Groaning, he stood up, his chair scraping against the floor as he did and stormed out of the meeting room. He wasn't leaving and he wasn't signing that new contract. Nobody could make him: not Enrique, not Al-Khelaifi, and most certainly not y/n.

Masterlist Chapter 2

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappé #mbappé #mbappe #football #psg #paris saint germain #kylian x you #kylian x reader #kylian fanfic #kylian imagines #kylian #kylian mbappe x reader #y/n #equipe de france #footballer