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charliemwrites · 6 months

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Part 5 (it’s getting out of control) of Charmed Slasher Simon.

Part 4 is here. (Master list coming soon)

(Slight warning for a coworker being a bit of a pushy creep but Simon handles it)

“Riiiiileyyyy.”

Ah, that’s your naughty voice. It means he’s going to want to do awful, terrible things to you out of pure endearment for your cheek.

He turns, arches an eyebrow as you nearly skip up to him. Your hair is shorter.

“New haircut?” he asks as if his fingers aren’t twitching to bury in it and pull your head back.

“Yup! Thought about dyeing it orange, but decided it would clash with my flat.”

He snorts, gives in to the urge to curl a strand around his finger, watches it bounce back into place. You don’t seem to mind, sticking your cute little tongue out at him. (If you’re not careful, he’s going to put you on your knees and have you wrap it around his cock right there.)

“Sensible choice,” he replies, “yellow is more your color.”

You giggle, aren’t bothered by his flat, almost inflectionless tone. “You think?”

“Highlighter yellow. Or maybe banana.”

“Hey, I like bananas!”

He smirks. “Oh yeah? Big ones?”

You shove at him, face going hot. He doesn’t move an inch, not that you were trying hard. Touchy little thing. You remind him of those little birds that flutter around lions, picking and pecking right under their noses, amusing themselves with death.

“Don’t be icky, Riley.”

“Icky.”

“Gross nasty.”

“We’re name calling now?”

“It’s not name calling if it’s true.”

He clicks his tongue, ushers you into the building.

“There a reason for the new hair?” he asks, eyeing it. It’s pretty, don’t get him wrong. But he didn’t know you were getting your hair cut today.

“Fancy office party tonight,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “My stylist just managed to get me in, but now I’ve gotta rush to get ready.”

“Now who said you could go out?”

“What are you gonna do, stop me?” you laugh, clearly thinking he’s teasing. He’s not. If you looked at his face, you’d know it. But you’re busy fussing with your keys, trying to unlock your door.

“I might.”

“Oh, you stop,” you huff, shaking your head. “It’s not even movie night!”

He’s been coming over once a week to watch a movie and drink with you. One of you picks the movie, the other picks the takeaway. He always chooses a horror movie, likes how your eyes water when you get truly scared. You refuse to watch slashers (haven’t told ‘Riley’ why) but you’ll indulge paranormal ones.

It’s not movie night - those are on Saturdays. This is Friday.

“What if I just kidnap you?” he asks. “Keep you in all weekend?”

You hum as if in thought, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Could I go back to work on Monday?”

“Have to see how I’m feeling on Sunday.”

You giggle. “A tempting offer, but you’ll have to settle for kidnapping me just for Saturday.”

“I don’t think you understand how kidnapping works.”

“I’d be a terrible hostage,” you say. He arches an eyebrow, inviting you to continue. “I have to pee when I’m nervous, I’d be talking their ear off - and! I cry like, so much.”

Oh he knows. He thinks of tears running down your pretty face when he cums.

“Some kidnappers like the crying. Theyre sadists.”

You scrunch your face. “But it’s like… gross crying. Total mess. And I make dying seal noises.”

No, you don’t, not in his experience with you at least. But he’s not going to explain that to you.

“Didn’t you have something to get ready for?” he asks because he’s violently wrestling the urge to make good on his threat.

“Fuck!” You glance at your watch, brows scrunching. “If I’m late, I’m blaming you, Riley Simmons.”

“Oh no.”

You stick your tongue out at him one last time and disappear behind your door.

—

He hears you come back at 11:30, has been waiting up. Pauses when he hears two sets of footsteps, a man’s voice talking to you. A wave of bloodlust nearly drowns his better sense.

You brought someone home from a work event? Did you lie to him and go on a date?

“Well, thanks for walking me to my door, Brandon.”

“Was happy to. Don’t want anyone snatching you up off the street now, do we?” An annoying laugh. Yours sounding a little flat and strained joining him.

“Oh, hey, mind if I come in?” Brandon asks. So casually, as if the yes is expected.

Simon’s hands ball into tight fists.

“Ah, it’s pretty late…”

“Well, that’s what Saturday is for, right?”

Oh. That little roach. Simon’s going to hang him by his own guts.

“I have plans tomorrow, actually.”

Good girl.

“That’s alright,” Brandon persists. “Just one drink. Least you can do since I went out of my way, right?”

“I mean, you didn’t have to, I would have been fine.”

There’s some genuine annoyance in your voice this time. Simon’s proud.

“Nah, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you go home after having drinks?” Brandon chuckles.

“I didn’t have that many - and anyway I’m here now, so…”

“And so am I. At least a little something for my troubles?”

And Simon hears just the slightest, faintest ruffle of clothes.

That’s enough.

Simon yanks his door open and steps out. You’re nearly pancaked to your own door, head snapping to him with relief.

“Riley!”

Brandon takes a step back, expression stormy. Simon almost laughs. Little prick is barely taller than you, has done hard work maybe twice in his life. His hands look softer than yours. And he’s wearing a sweater vest.

“Did we wake you up?” you ask.

Simon saunters down the hall towards you. The closer he gets, the more nervous Brandon gets. But you seem to relax a bit more with each step, even shift towards him.

Very good girl.

“Was already up.” He doesn’t look away from Brandon, radiating menace.

You hum in understanding - know Simon keeps late hours. Brandon clears his still-intact throat and you jolt a bit, expression wilting.

“Oh, um. Riley this is my coworker. Brandon, this is Riley, my neighbor.”

“How do you do?” Brandon replies stiffly.

Simon’s not playing along.

“You try to push her again, someone will be pushing you in a wheelchair the rest of your life. Understand?”

Brandon sputters while your eyes go adorably wide, expression caught between horror and gratitude. Like you don’t know if you should be condoning his threats.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Not yet, but you will if I see you here again, yeah?”

Brandon’s face drains of blood. You press your lips together.

“Now get the fuck out. I’ve got her from here.”

Brandon, worm that he is, scurries away with a hasty “see you Monday”. You don’t reply, too busy blinking up at Simon with parted lips.

He chucks you gently under the chin, eyes narrowing in amusement.

“Off to bed. I’m kidnapping you tomorrow.”

You audibly swallow, then nod.

“Thank you.”

“Good manners.”

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #slasher ghost #charmed ghost #final girl reader

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jaebeomsbitch · 7 months

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The Touch of a Prince (E.M.)

Summary: You really really like your boyfriend's hands.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, smut, pure smut, explicit, lots of petnames, p in v, banana cream pies. Not edited like always

GIF credit: @foggystreetlights

A/N: just discovered the person who cosplays eddie and makes a whole bunch of eddie gifsets....

It was Eddie’s day off from the tattoo shop. He’d spent the day cleaning the house and when he was finally done he decided to work out an idea for a song. You’d come home about three hours into him practicing, a pencil in his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration but the one thing you could not get your eyes off of was his hands. The way the flexed with every movement, the way his veins popped when he’d move his hand up.

“You almost done?” You murmur, eyes scaling your boyfriend.

“Hmm?” He hums distracted but his eyes turn towards yours catching the tail end of your ogling. His lip immediately curving upward in a smirk.

“Why? Is my princess in need of her valiant knight’s services?” He says dramatically.

“Mhm,” you hum quietly nodding your head slowly as you scoot back on the couch.

“Well if duty calls” he says, placing his guitar back on its stand. His heavy footsteps frantic as he all but practically runs towards you. He jumps on the couch with a thud, the springs creaking in protest.

“You’re gonna fucking break it” you laugh. The two of you bought this shitty couch after moving in together. Before Eddie had become popular in the local tattoo scene. You could afford a better one but why waste something that is practically new?

“I was told an urgent matter needed my services” he says pressing kisses to your neck. You can’t help but laugh as you’re pinned under his body.

“Okay well not that!” You say pushing his face away.

“Mhm, okay then what does my precious princess in need of?” He says still using that stupid accent.

Your nose brushes his softly, eyes lashes fluttering against each other. “Do you trust me?” You whisper. A stupid smile adorns his face.

“Course I trust you. Trust that you won’t bite my dick off when it’s in your mouth. Did you know the force in a human jaw could do that? Like just cleanly” he rambles, getting distracted like he always does. He makes a chomping motion.

“Take it right off” he says, getting off of you dragging you with him until you’re sitting with your legs across his lap.

“God you’re so…” you say, making a face at him with face annoyance but there’s a little smile on your face.

“Hot?” He says with a smirk.

“No-“ you try to say but he interrupts.

“Charming? Handsome? God, keep going” he continues.

“Annoying” you say, interrupting him before he keeps going.

“Well luckily most hot people are annoying” he says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

“You’re insufferable too,” you scrunch your nose at him with a disgusted face. He decides to attack, his fingers pressing at your sides.

“No! No-“ you try to seat his hands away but you’re laughing uncontrollably as he tickles you.

“You don’t call me annoying or insufferable when I’ve got my cock in you” he laughs.

“Please- stop!” You heave for breath seeking reprieve. He lets go of you with a chuckle, going back to his position on the couch as you pant for breath, your stomach aching from forced laughter.

“God, I was trying to ask you a question!” You whine as you sit up. Your hair all fucked up from thrashing around, face flushed. You lean your shoulder on the couch cushion as you look at Eddie.

“My name is actually Eddie,” he says with a smug smile.

“That’s it! I’ve had it” you grumble a twinge of annoyance creeping into you as you cover his mouth and straddle his lap.

“Oohh kinky,” he muffles into your palm.

“Eddie seriously, I’m gonna lose my shit” you warn. He immediately holds his hands up in surrender. You let go of his mouth with a pointed glare, his hands finding their way to your ass.

“Yes, Princess?” He says with a smile on his lips.

“No, now I don’t want to. You’re being annoying” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Okay fine- fine I’m sorry” he says cupping your face and peppering your cheeks with kisses until you relax against him.

“What did you need?” He says softly, pushing your hair back out of your face.

“I wanted to do something but you’re gonna find it weird” you mumble.

“Weird? Like the time I let you hold my dick when I peed?” He says, one of his eyebrows quirked, clear amusement in his tone.

“Eddie!” You whine.

“Okay, okay” he laughs.

“Let me see your hand” you demand.

“You gonna read my palm or something?” he asks putting his right hand in front of you.

“Something like that” you say, you fold his fingers in and unfold them trying to build the courage to do it. To do what you’d been thinking about doing amongst the other dirty thoughts in your mind.

“You just wanted to play with my hands?” He laughs softly. You roll your eyes finally just sticking his pointer finger into your mouth. You lick at it, swirling your tongue around it.

“What are you doing?” He asks, amusement lost from his voice. Instead he sounds out of breath, his free hand squeezes your ass, his eyes trained on your lips wrapped around his digit.

Groaning, Eddie leans back on the couch, closing his eyes as you continue to suck on his fingers. You can feel the press of his half hard cock as you sit on his lap as he massages your ass with one hand.

"God, you're driving me crazy," he mutters.

You pull his fingers out of your mouth with a string of saliva dripping down your chin.

“I’m not doing anything” you murmur laying your head on his shoulder. You spread out his fingers licking in between the spaces then take his pointer finger into your mouth sucking on it.

Panting, Eddie watches with difficulty as you lick and suck on his fingers, his cock throbbing in his jeans.

"Do you have any idea how sexy that is?" he asks hoarsely.

You look up at Eddie with your big doe eyes. Cocking your head to the side innocently as you take in his middle finger and start sucking on it. This was your payback for Eddie’s annoying behavior.

Eddie shakes his head, rolling his hips up to gain friction.

“Fuck, need to be inside you princess” he pants. You hum around his fingers, sucking on them harder at the proposition. His one hand fumbled with the button on his jeans and yet he perfectly undoes it and unzips the zipper. You look at him with a questioning gaze.

“What? I have a lot of practice” he murmurs, cheeks glowing red. He’s cute when he’s embarrassed. Nonetheless he pulls his jeans and underwear down, his cock bobbing out of the fabric. It lightly slaps against his stomach, smearing precum over his maiden tee.

He slips his fingers out of your mouth, you can’t help but whine at the loss but he doesn’t give you a second to think. He’s yanking down his boxers that you’re wearing, thumb finding your clit as you kick them off.

“S-shit” you moan pressing your forehead into his shoulder.

“You’re so fucking far” he grunts, pulling you closer by the waist. You can’t help but laugh breathlessly but then his thumb is rubbing tight circles on your bundle of nerves, your thighs trembling.

“F-fuck okay okay okay” you pant not even knowing why you’re saying okay but you’re hovering over his cock. Eddie holds it at the base aligned with you perfectly to sink into him like an animal in quicksand.

“Not until I have your fingers” you whisper, swallowing hard. You feel like you’re slowly losing any semblance of humanity, like poison drips into your blood stream. Converting you into a primal cock hungry whore.

“Always have to draw things out don’t you?” He pants while shaking his head. His thumb leaving your clit, middle finger slipping into your sopping pussy.

“Mmm f—f” you stutter, the press of his warm metal rings at your labias having you forgetting your name. You look down, the veins on his inner wrist flexing, the bracelet on his wrist slightly bouncing with the movement, his eyes staring at the way you take his finger then sliding in his ring finger. Stretching you out as you start rocking your hips against his palm. You grip his shoulders harder.

“G-guh fuck Eddie” you moan, your head dropping in defeat as he curls his fingers.

“That’s it, ride my fucking hand” he all but growls. If he’s gonna be tortured he might as well enjoy it.

“Look so fucking pretty like this, Sweetheart. Got you all dumb from just my hand. I see the way you look at ‘em. Think you’re smart, huh? Looking away from me when I look over” he chuckles, his free hand gripping your hip moving you to ride his hand harder with each hard press of his fingers.

“C-can’t help it” you moan. Heat pools at your core, the familiar burn feels like lava, your face pressed desperately into his shoulder. If it wasn’t for Eddie’s hand on your hips you don’t know if you could move.

“Aww the poor little princess can’t help it? Can’t help imagining me fucking your pussy just like this? Getting your juices all over my fucking rings?” He grunts with the effort as he feels your muscles start to twitch.

“That’s it, cum on my fucking fingers. Show me how much you fucking love ‘em” he pants in your ear.

“S-shit. Oh fuck” you cry out, your nails digging into his skin as you feel the burn deep in your core. Your clit rubbing over his palm, his fingers ramming into your g-spot over and over again, the hard press of his metal rings. It isn’t long maybe a few seconds that you cum all over his hands.

It drips down his thick fingers, smearing all over his rings, creating a small puddle in his palm. Fuck… you’d never cum this much and all because of his hands. He slides his fingers out of you carefully as you heave for air.

The heat ghosting over his neck as you relax in his hold.

He tuts, ”s’only your first own, Princess. Still gotta ride my cock like you’re riding a first prize stallion.”

“S-shit y-yeah just.. just give me a sec would ‘ya?” You gasp. He runs your back softly until you sit up on his thighs pulling back to look at his face.

“There she is” he grins, using his clean hand to brush stray pieces of hair out of your face. You press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Thanks for that” you murmur shyly under the intense gaze of your boyfriend. He looked like a man starved for days looking at his first meal.

“That? Oh sweetheart… you’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow when I’m done with you,” he says with a cocky grin.

“Now, I believe I was told that my Princess likes my hands. Hmm? S’that true sweetheart?” He asks almost condescendingly. You nod meekly not knowing where this is heading.

He grips your hips pulling you up. Your thighs tremble lightly as you’re back in the same position as before.

“Think you can take it baby? Have a surprise for you, if you’re a good girl” he says, rubbing his thumb softly over your hipbone.

“Yeah- Yes I can,” you nod. You shift closer, your knees pressing into the sides of his hips as you slowly sink down into him.

“Oh- fuck” you whine, your pussy still sensitive from your orgasm. Your walls pulse around him, already slick with your cum, coating his cock in it. He tilts your head up to look at him.

“Open that pretty mouth of yours Princess,” he murmur, his stomach straining not to fuck you hard like he wants. He knows you need him to be gentle right now. You oblige opening up your plump lips with uncertainty.

He slides his cum covered fingers into your mouth forcing you to taste yourself. His other hand finding your hip slowly pulling you towards him in a gentle roll of your hips. You moan around his fingers for a second time.

Your tongue laps up your cum gathering it on the tip as you start moving your hips on your own. Instead of bouncing you choose to swivel your hips, keeping a figure eight.

This causes Eddie’s cock to stay buried deep inside of you, the meeting point of the two rings forcing his cock to press into your g-spot. You curl your toes, gasping around his wrinkled fingers. Fuck, you’re so sensitive. Eddie could sneeze and you’d cum again. Nonetheless you flex your stomach ignoring the way your pussy flutters around him.

Like a deep primal urge in you knows, knows that you need your fill.

“Fuck, that’s it” he pants, his desperation growing. He slides his fingers out of your mouth, the skull ring staying behind, you swirl it around your tongue cleaning it and bring it forward to show him just as he grabs your hips.

“Jesus fucking Christ you’re gonna fucking kill me” he gasps out, his big hands forcing you to bounce on his cock.

It’s like you lose all inhibitions as you feel the slam of his cock curving into you.

“Oh- God. Fuck- fuck” you moan loudly. It gets harder and harder to stave off your orgasm as he presses his back into the couch pistoning upwards.

“S-shit you’re gonna fucking break me” you gasp. Your stomach flexes painfully, your clit rubbing into the thatch of curly hair above his cock ever time he slams you down into him. You pull at the couch cushions behind his head desperately.

“I- I can’t Eds” you cry, every fibre of your body is telling you to let go. Eddie feels the familiar tug at his balls, a shiver running up his spine.

“Look at me,” he grunts.

You try and strengthen your neck but all you can manage is to press your forehead into his.

“You’re mine, always fucking remember that” he says fiercely.

“I thought I was the princess” you laugh breathlessly.

“And I’m your fucking prince” he moan.

You whine “don’t wanna cum yet.” You press up on your knees slamming down harder onto his cock. The only thing preventing you from falling is Eddie’s hands on your hips and your grip on his shoulders

“Love your cock to much wanna stay like this forever” you moan.

Laughing, Eddie pulls you closer, his lips finding yours. His tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting your cum on your tongue.

"I love you," he whispers against your lips. "I'll never get tired of being inside you.”

“Fuck- come on princess, cum for me” he encourages.

“No no no no no” you whine but the heat keeps pooling and shocks travel up your spine as you get closer and closer.

Hearing your desperate pleas, Eddie knows you're on the edge. He wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you even closer as he thrusts into you with abandon.

"That's it," he praises. "Just let it happen."

“No Eddie,“ you whine but your pussy still clenching around him, your stomach tightening with effort as you try to stave off your pleasure.

“Fuuuck” you gasp your neck flexing as you grit your teeth.

“That’s it, that’s fucking it” he grunts rubbing right circles on your clit. Your velvet walls clench harder around him, his cock making you completely dumb.

You let go involuntarily, everything all too much. You cum hard trembling above him, collapsing into his chest.

“Fuck-beautiful. So. Fucking. Beautiful,” he grunts.

“Cum inside me,” you pant out.

“What?” His eyebrows practically fly to his hairline.

“Cum inside me” you say more urgently, shocks running up your spine.

“Y- fuck you can’t say shit like that to me” his eyes roll back and his lips part. He cums inside you with a loud groan.

You sigh as you get comfortable on his lap. His cum and cock still buried deep inside you. You press a soft kiss to the side of his head

“My pretty boy” you whisper.

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

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Lift and learn.

Synopsis: You discover Ghost’s unique skill; estimating the weight of items just by lifting them. You decide to challenge his ability by giving him little tests and he (for once in his life) loves to show off.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,381 (approx. 5-6 minutes reading time.)

Notes:

Mindless, platonic fluff with minimal plot.

Want more?

———————————————————————

The storage room is vast and poorly lit, with rows of metal shelves stretching into the distance. The air conditioning blows cool air throughout the facility, with only the gentle hum of the units and refrigerators breaking the silence. You and Ghost stand at the entrance, surveying the endless supply of crates and boxes ahead of you.

“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” you remark, kicking a nearby stack of boxes.

Ghost nods. “Come on,” he says as he walks between the shelves, “the faster we start, the faster we’ll be done with it.”

You follow him, walking down the first row of shelves, scanning the labels on the boxes and crates to see what they contain.

He checks the list you made with the food you’ll need for the mission, and he points toward the direction of the canned goods.

“Go look for the soup,” he advises, “and don’t lift the crate yourself.”

You turn to face him. “Why not, sir?”

“That thing weighs about 20 kgs,” he says, “you won’t be able to lift it alone.”

“Is that so?” you raise your brows. Ghost lets out a long sigh.

“I don’t doubt your abilities, soldier—I just know the box is too heavy to be lifted from up high,” he says. “I don’t want you to get hurt, and you don’t want to clean tomato soup off the floors now, do you?”

You roll your eyes and walk over to the box in question. You turn to glance at Ghost out of the corner of your eye—he’s ticking things off the list. You decide to give it a shot. You take a deep breath and grasp the box by its handles, attempting to pull it off the shelf. Your arms strain as you put all your weight into it, but the crate doesn’t budge. You try again, but it’s in vain.

Just as you’re about to give up, Ghost appears at your side.

“Told ya; it’s a heavy box,” he says, amused.

You step back, allowing him to take your place. He grips the box and lifts it off the shelf.

“That’s over 20 kgs.” He comments as he curls the box. “Around 24 kgs, I’d say.”

You stare at the box as it moves up and down, then at him. He approaches the large food scale and places the box on it. As he predicted, the box weights precisely the amount he estimated.

“Do you do this a lot?” you ask.

“No,” he says, chuckling, “I normally curl barbells.”

“Estimating the weight of something just by lifting it?” you clarify, “I saw you do it before when we were packing stuff from the armoury.”

“Ah,” he says, flicking his wrist, “it’s nothing.”

He surely doesn’t act like “it’s nothing.” He’s trying to portray himself as humble. But he looks far too cocky about it. He puffs out his chest and places his hands on his waist. His head tilts a little higher, and he squints his eyes, resulting in narrow creases at their corners. There’s also a slight stiffness in his upper body muscles. Is he flexing? Yes. Yes, he’s desperate to show off his skill once more. And, of course, you don’t waste the opportunity.

You gesture to a massive stalk of bananas. “How much does that weigh?” You ask.

He walks towards the bananas, his hands still on his hips. “Ah,” he says as he lifts the stalk, “this should weigh around 1.3 kgs.” He states and places the bananas on the scale. He waits for the scale to flash and then turns to face you when it indicates just a little over the amount he predicted.

“Wow, Lieutenant!” You yell and clap your hands together. “Do it again!”

He takes a sharp breath from his nose and gestures with his hands. “Give me something more difficult this time.” he says with pride.

You look around the storage room and spot a pile of sandbags in the corner.

“Okay, how much does one of those weigh?” you ask.

He redirects his gaze to the sandbags. He shrugs. “30 kgs.” He says.

“That doesn’t count, Lt.,” you frown, “you didn’t even lift them.”

“I don’t have to lift them, Y/N; we fill sandbags to exactly 30 kgs each.” He explains and turns to look at you with a you-should-have-knew-that expression.

You decide to step up your game.

“Okay, Lt., what about me?” you ask, pointing to yourself.

He raises his index finger at you. “I’m not lifting you.” He states.

“Why not?” You ask, and he goes on to explain how it put him in trouble on a deployment about a decade ago. “Bananas, don’t get offended when you estimate them to be a few grams heavier.” He explains. You promise him you won’t be insulted, and he brings his right hand to your face, squeezing your cheeks to stop you.

“O’ay,” you mutter through your pinched lips, and he lets you go. “See this cardboard box over there?” You ask, and he turns to look in the direction of a big, beige-coloured box on the ground. It’s taped shut and sealed with no hint or label of what it might contain.

“Can you estimate its weight without looking what’s inside the box?” you ask.

He gives a short chuckle and mutters something like “if I can, she asks” under his breath before walking to the box. He tilts his head, trying to estimate its weight by looking at it. He stretches his arms and cracks his knuckles, readying himself for what he’s about to do. He gathers his cargo pants from his thighs, and lowers himself to the ground in a deadlift position, grabbing the box by the handles. He takes a deep breath and pulls the box up with all his might.

But the box turns out to be lighter than you both anticipated, making Ghost lose his balance. He stumbles backwards, his arms flapping as he tries to regain control of his body. In his panic, he forgets to let go of the box which seems to defy gravity, and it flies through the air, driven by the momentum of his fall.

“Lt.!” you yell as you hurry to him, kneeling on the floor, “are you okay, sir?”

He stares at the floor, then at you, then back at the ground. You grab his arm to pull him up, but his ego is too bruised to allow you to do that to him. He gets up on his own and dusts his trousers.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you apologise, “I had no idea.”

He crosses his arms in front of his chest—he looks defensive. “Neither of us knew, soldier,” he says, trying to reassure you, and walks towards the box.

“Huh,” he says as he lifts its flaps. “I fell backwards by a rocket explosion before,” he recalls, “but never by a cardboard box filled with sanitary pads.”

You giggle, and he shakes his head. He picks one of the packages and shows it to you. “Will you need a couple of these during our mission?” He asks.

“Yes, sir,” you reply, lowering your eyes to the ground.

He picks up two packs and puts one of them under his arm. “No shame in that, soldier,” he comforts you and shakes the other pack, “these babies almost broke my hip about a minute ago.”

You smile in response—at least he can make a joke out of this uncomfortable situation.

“You’re impressive, Lt.,” you comment, “a walking and breathing human scale.”

“Eh,” he shrugs as he crosses the final items off the list, “it helps with missions and loading up the trucks.”

“Now,” you continue, looking at the boxes you’ve collected for the mission, “how about we fill up the truck before one of us gets hurt in this warzone of a storage unit?”

He lets out a laugh. “Yes, let’s get outta here,” he agrees, “I don’t want to get jumped by a bunch of Kleenex.”

———————————————————————

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spamgyu · 4 months

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SVT VU - Orange Peel Theory // Drabble

orange peel theory is making it's rounds on local tiktok and twitter. this is my humorous take on how the VOCAL UNIT discuss/deal with the orange peel theory with their significant others.

[hhu] [pu - coming soon]

JEONGHAN

"thank you." she grinned up at him as he placed a plate of oranges in front of her. she had been nose deep in her laptop, trying to complete her last email of the week when he unsolicitedly placed the snack in front of her.

much like all other times he had done when she was far too busy with work to remember to eat.

jeonghan placed a kiss atop her head as she happily munched away on the snack, a sly smile slowly growing on his lips as she grabbed another slice.

"would YOU peel oranges for me?" jeonghan crossed his arms over his chest.

"yes?" his girlfriend was taken back by the sudden hostility.

all while she was preoccupied with her daily zoom meetings and endless emails, jeonghan had brain rotted away on his phone – stumbling upon videos of girls testing their men .... with oranges.

he didn't understand why this was up for debate, knowing he would peel millions of oranges if it meant making his girlfriend's day all the better.

but he also wanted to have fun; setting up his own phone away from her sight as he captured the video just for him to laugh at.

he always did enjoy messing with her.

JOSHUA

joshua sighed for the third time since they had sat on the couch.

which was only about 5 minutes ago.

he glanced over at her to see that she had yet to take notice of the sound he had made, this time letting out a much more dramatic sigh.

giggling, she finally had taken the hint; taking her eyes off the television and looking over at him. "yes, honey, can i help you?"

"everyone else's girlfriends are asking for oranges..." he pouted. "peeled."

joshua wasn't much to keep up with trends, let alone be chronically online the same way his members were. she didn't think he would be well aware of the current debate taking over social media – and frankly, she didn't care for it.

it was just an orange.

"did you want me to ask if you would peel an orange for me?" she asked with raised brows.

"duh..." he nodded. during today's practice, he had overheard seungcheol and mingyu exchange stories of how their significant others had tested them with the theory – the rest of the boys soon joining in. everyone else seemed to have their own share of stories... but him.

"i– it's hypothetical though. it's more of if you're willing to peel–" she watched as he pouted once again. "would you peel an orange for me?"

joshua grinned, digging into his hoodie's front pocket to pull out two oranges, a banana, and an apple.

"apple?"

"i'll use my teeth."

"no!" she cried, grabbing the fruit from him.

JIHOON

"have you guys heard of the orange peel theory?" soonyoung asked, shoveling a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

she and jihoon shook their heads at their unsolicited guest who somehow managed to make himself a little too comfortable in their shared apartment; claiming that before she came along, he was jihoon's babygirl.

she didn't care to fight soonyoung over it; jihoon did enough of that himself.

"isn't that a gym?" jihoon quipped.

"that's orange theory, babe." y/n corrected, grabbing another shrimp from the middle of the table.

soonyoung always came over unannounced, but never empty handed – arriving today with seafood boil for all three of them to share.

"ah..." he nodded, taking the shrimp from y/n's plate – peeling it for her.

she was shit at peeling her own shrimp and jihoon was more than happy to make sure she didn't ruin her perfectly manicured nails.

soonyoung rolled his eyes at the couple who never stayed up to date with the latest internet trends. "sickening." he mumbled.

peeling shrimp was far more romantic than peeling oranges, anyways. but if anyone were to ask jihoon, he'd skin anything she asked him to.

including their unannounced guest.

SEOKMIN

he didn't exactly fail her humorous attempts to test him on the orange peel theory.

but he didn't pass either.

in his defense, she had asked him in the middle of the night – waking him from his slumber to ask if he would peel an orange for her, only to reply "tomorrow."

and he knew she wasn't mad. there was no reason to.

it was a silly tiktok she had seen while she scrolled next to her boyfriend who was deep asleep – practically shaking their walls with his loud snores.

but seokmin felt guilty after he had read the groupchat he had shared with his members, each of them sharing how their significant others had managed to bring up the hot debate topic circulating social media.

if he had known....

"babe... why is our fridge full of peeled oranges?" she laughed. she had originally gone into the kitchen to grab a drink only to be distracted by the lack of bottled waters.... and an abundance of orange filled tupperwares.

"i'm sorry."

glancing over her boyfriend who stood at the doorway of their kitchen, she let out another laugh – walking over to pull him into a hug. "did you peel all those?"

he nodded into her shoulder, making her giggle.

"i didn't take it personally."

"i did." he pulled away, bringing his fingers up to her face. "and now i smell like an orange."

SEUNGKWAN

"look what i brought!" he sang as he kicked off his sneakers, shaking the bag in his hand.

seungkwan had paid his family a visit, coming back from the tiny island just south of the mainland with various treats he enjoyed growing up.

including a bag of tangerines.

"ooooh!" she clapped, following him into the kitchen – digging into the bag of his mom's homecooking. "these are going to be so good. can you–"

before she could even finish her sentence, he had placed a peeled orange on top of one of the containers; a large smile on his face.

"thank you?" she reached for the fruit hesitantly; wary of the strange smile on his face.

"i'd peel oranges for you."

popping a slice in her mouth. "i know... thanks."

"any mundane thing, i'd do."

she nodded, still quite confused with his actions. "i know."

"just getting that out there." he clicked his tongue.

"okay... weirdo." y/n chewed.

seunkwan frowned at her reaction.

"i take it back." he snatched the fruit from her hand.

"hey!"

@thegirlwhoimagined @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @f4iryjjosh @akeminy @yonabutnotyuna @tacosandbitch @vanillacheol @aaniag @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter @xbaekcult @alwaysalmostthere @ashkuuuu @morkswatermelonnnn @isabellah29 @lottogyu @bubbly-moon @lllucere

(for some reason it's not allowing me to tag some who wanted to be added to the perm tag list ... cries... pls check ur settings so i can for future posts)

#the babygirl unit getting their share of the orange peel theory #babygirl and sassy unit.......... sorry guys lol #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #dokyeom x reader #dk x reader #seokmin x reader #seungkwan x reader #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #spamwrites

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agirlcandream84 · 19 days

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HIII !!! im the anon that asked for neighbor!frank, and to answer your question... Why not both? 💋💋💋

Ok twist my arm why don't ya. First batch, Boyfriend!Frank:

Boyfriend!Frank Headcanons- yet again.

Frank is a SIMP for you cracking his back. As soon as he's face-down on the bed, he's pawing at you to straddle his broad back like "come on honey, get on top of me-- give it to me good" and making you lean your whole weight onto his spine-- a satisfying crack rippling through him while you shriek "oh-my-god-did-i-hurt-you?!" and he just chuckles with "nah sweetheart, do it again f'me" Sometimes you think it's as good as sex for him. Almost.

Speaking of sex though... one time you decide to tease Frank via pics while he was out of the apartment, every pic more suggestive and lewd than the last and when he finally bursts through the door you act coy for about 0.5 secs before Frank hauls you from the kitchen, your toes only skimming the floor as he carries you effortlessly with one hand, his other hand already working to unzip his pants, and tosses-- literally tosses-- you on the bed, as he crawls onto the bed after you and taps your knee with "open 'em for me doll. Not gonna ask twice."

You beg Frank for his help to paint your toenails for you and he pretends to grumble about but he secretly loves it. He's meticulous and even perches a set of magnifying reading glasses on his nose as he does it. Just his big hulking head hunched over your foot, his crooked nose inches from the tips of your toes. He's so proud of his work that he stops you from getting up before they're dry like "nah nah nah, you're gonna mess 'em all up 'n shit. Stay put, I'll get your book."

Frank does not take kindly to people (let's be real, men) disrespecting your intelligence. When you're remodeling your bathroom and you're looking for the right tile, the store clerk is talking directly to Frank about every detail, acting like you don't even exist. Frank is all, "The fuck you tellin' me for buddy? My lady asked you the question. Why don't you answer her," and the guy is suddenly tripping over his words as he gives you an apology.

You got it in your brain that you wanted to learn how to roller skate and your apartment is all hardwood floors so it felt like a perfect place to practice and Frank is like a nervous parent to a toddler, putting towels over sharp table corners, shouting "Go slow!" down the hallway and generally hovering around for the (many) inevitable times you lose your footing-- his thick arm looping around your waist as your feet slide out from under you and he's mumbling "gonna fucking kill yourself on these fucking things."

Frank didn't have much a sweet tooth except for your banana bread. The first time you made it you never saw him take a bite but somehow the loaf kept getting smaller and smaller. One night you reach over to Frank in the middle of the night but he wasn't in bed so you pad into the kitchen all groggy and rubbing your eyes asking "Frankie?" and there he is in the dark kitchen, enjoying a hunk of banana bread he tore off with his bare hands.

Unsurprisingly, Frank is a cash-carrying guy and you simply never have cash when you need it so Frank has taken to leaving a stack of bills tucked in your wallet once a week because he doesn't like you not having some spending money and emergency cash on hand.

Unfortunately, Frank was always scaring you on accident. Sure, sometimes you could hear the clunk of his boots from a mile away but Frank was pretty stealthy more often than not, even when he wasn't trying. Pair that with your nervous system being one that was sorta lowkey always on high alert and that amounts to you yelping in fright at least once a day when Frank seemingly appears out of nowhere. Of course, Frank interprets this as an opportunity to better educate you on how to be aware of your surroundings like "Come on sweetheart, you gotta get out of that pretty head of yours. Gotta stay sharp, alright?"

It took ffooorrrvveer into your relationship for Frank to even show you that he got sleepy sometimes-- LIKE A HUMAN. The first months of living together you didn't see Frank so much as yawn and he was always awake when you fell asleep and awake when you woke up in the morning. But finally, he slowly dropped his tough-guy-watch-dog visage just enough to let himself get cuddly when he was feeling slightly needy like when he was sick or especially tired or thinking about the past too much. His favorite spot was his cheek pressed into the warm smooth skin of your chest, his hands softly running over your breasts and his warm breath tickling your stomach. It was one of the one places he let himself be taken care of, just for a moment, with your nails scratching his scalp slightly.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fanfic #frank castle x you #frank castle smut #frank castle x y/n #frank castle fluff #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x female reader

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 1 month

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a/n: i hate this title but i LOVE this fic! i had so much fun writing it, obviously inspired by the tik tok trend lol. also when i started this fic last week, the cookies were different but then this week actually did include banana cream pie so i had to change them 😂 and then had to do a little rewrite obviously. but yeah, go check out the isles q&a on their favorite desserts bc they’re all adorable

tw: tooth rotting fluff, extremely minor insinuation of a daddy kink

word count: 2.3k

summary: you take advantage of mat’s sweet tooth to trick him into doing a tik tok video with you

“Hey,” you call out for Mat from your perch on the couch, one foot wedged in between the couch cushions and your phone resting on your thigh. You can hear him rummaging around in the fridge and the noise stops temporarily.

“Hey,” he calls back, “what’s going on?” The rummaging noises start up again and you grin to yourself. If he’s hungry, your little plan will work perfectly.

You crunch up into a sitting position and drape your arms over the back of the couch, watching Mat as he moves things around in the fridge, looking for something to eat. “Do you want to go to Chip City with me?” You ask. “I want to make like one of those TikToks, you know where they rate the cookies of the week?”

Mat’s nodding and closing the fridge before you even finish speaking. “Oh, hell fucking yes,” he grins, skirting around the kitchen island and stopping behind the couch. You reach out and tug at the belt loops on his jeans, laughing. “You know I’m always down for cookies.”

“I know,” you tease, unfolding from the couch and getting to your feet. “That’s why I suggested it. I can always count on you to validate my sugar cravings.”

He smiles his crooked little smile and readjusts his hat, the new Stay GOALd collaboration with Ralph Macchio, raking his hand through his hair before settling the hat on backwards. Your stomach flips a little at how good he looks. “Babe, we need to stop talking and start driving,” he says, totally seriously.

“Chill, Cookie Monster,” you follow him to the front door, stepping into your ratty Forces. The leather is more grey than white now and creased beyond belief, but they’re comfortable and you can slide them on and off without having to do the laces. “I doubt they’re going to run out of cookies in the ten minutes it takes to get there.”

“Never know,” Mat shrugs, tossing your car keys at you. You barely catch them, fumbling a little before your fingers hook on the beaded keychain. “Your car’s behind mine, you drive?”

You wrinkle your nose, when Mat’s home you’d rather be the passenger princess, but you also hate it when he readjusts your seat to fit his longer legs. “Fine,” you mumble, locking the door behind him, “but that’s the last bit of driving I’m doing all weekend.”

He swoops in to press a kiss to your forehead, “your wish is my command, Princess Squeaks.”

With a delighted smile, you hop into the driver’s seat of your car, turning it on while Mat buckles up in the passenger seat. He leans back in the seat, the brim of his backwards cap hitting against the headrest and popping the front of the hat off his head. “Damn,” he mutters, quickly fixing it and sitting forward. “So, wait, if you make one of those videos, what are the chances we get a Chip City influencer deal? Are we looking at free cookies for life?”

“Um, no,” you wince when you take a turn a little too quickly, clipping the curb. Hoping Mat will ignore that, you continue quickly, “I don’t think free cookies for life is a thing? Maybe some like coupons or extra point perks? Honestly, it’ll probably be nothing other than a comment and a like.”

“For life will be a really short period if you keep driving like a blind lunatic,” Mat teases you, laughing loudly when you lift your hand from the steering wheel to flip him off.

“You’re the one who told me to drive,” you counter.

Mat snags your hand out of the air and laces his fingers with yours, settling the back of his hand on the center console. “That’s only because I forgot what an insane driver you are,” he laughs, dramatically letting his body bounce forward and back in the seat when you come to a sharp stop at a red light.

You roll your eyes and make a point of driving exactly the speed limit and taking turns super carefully until you pull into the parking lot. When he hops out of the car, Mat wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close to his side. You snuggle up, wrapping your arm around his waist, car keys jangling in your hand as you walk. “Babe, you can drive like Vin Diesel all you want when I’m not in the car,” he says as you walk up the sidewalk to Chip City. “Lou might consider it a breach of my contract if you drive like that when I’m in the passenger seat.”

“Breach of contract!?” You yelp, pinching his side while he lets loose one of his contagiously loud laughs. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“But you love me,” Mat states matter-of-factly, breaking contact with you to pull open the door and hold it for you. You hum happily, immediately hit with the delicious scent of baked cookies. Behind you, Mat lets out a quiet groan and you laugh at his dramatics. “Jesus, it always smells so good in here,” he falls into line behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“If I worked here, I’d be three hundred pounds from sampling cookies every day,” you comment, turning to the mirror on the wall and lining up your face with the milk moustache decal for a selfie. You nudge Mat into place next to you and he crinkles his whole face up into a cheesy grin just for you. You snap the picture and shuffle forward as the person at the register leaves, moving the line up. Mat shuffles behind you, stepping on the heels of your sneakers and mumbling apologies.

While you wait, you look at the merch on the walls, joking with Mat that you’re going to get him the cookie shaped backpack for him to put his stuff in on game days. Before he can retort, you’re at the case and the worker is asking you how many cookies you want.

“Um, let’s do six?” You say, voice ticking up in a question for Mat. He nods, barely listening to you as he squints at the cookies. They’ll be gone in two days.

“Definitely need the cookies and cream,s’mores and oh, fuck yes, banana cream pie,” he points at each cookie as he names the flavor. “Babe?”

“I’ll do the specialty ones,” you say, “dark chocolate peanut butter, white chocolate macadamia, and brookie, please.”

“I love bananan cream pie cookie week,” Mat comments dreamily, looking like Pepe Le Pew when the cartoon skunk’s eyes turn into hearts when he spots the female skunk. He grins at you when you stick your finger in your mouth, fake gagging.

“Ugh, disgusting,” you shake your head. “Your love for banana cream pie is your biggest red flag.”

The woman behind the counter boxes everything up and you tap in your phone number to get rewards points before stepping to the side so Mat can pay. He smirks at you, tapping his card against the reader, and quietly, so no one else can hear, murmurs, “say ‘thank you, daddy.’”

A laugh startles out of your chest and you shake your head, cheeks flushing hot. “No, nope. I’m not saying that, Mathew.” Your fingers tremble a little around the box of cookies.

Mat’s hand is huge and warm on your lower back as he guides you out of the store, the sudden cool air a relief to your cheeks. He chuckles and flexes his fingers against your back. “Worth a shot,” he teases. “One day I’m gonna get you to say it.”

“It won’t be of my own accord,” you wrinkle your nose at him, stomach flipping a little bit. You refuse to analyze the excitement building low in your stomach and instead march determinedly back to your car. You had a plan for today and it didn’t involve Mat being called ‘daddy’ in a public place. Or any place. Or ever.

“We’ll see,” Mat jokes, pulling open the door for you to hop in and then going around the front of the car to get in on the passenger side. You drop the cookie box on his lap and he immediately picks at the tape holding it shut with his thumbnail, ready to snag a bite.

“Wait for me to get set up!” You chastise him, flicking his fingers away from the box with one hand and pulling up TikTok with the other.

Mat keeps picking at the tape, “no one’s gonna notice, I’ll just break it in half.” He finally manages to get the tape off and pops the lid open, dramatically inhaling the scent of the cookies. “Oh, fuck yes. Babe, what a good idea.”

You grin at him and make sure your phone is set in the holder attached to your windshield so both you and Mat are in the shot. “I literally only have good ideas,” you pull the box of cookies back into your lap, ignoring Mat’s protests. “Ready?”

He nods and you reach forward to start the recording. “Hi guys!” You chirp into the camera. “Happy Saturday, Mat has a rare day off so I decided to rope him into my fun. Say hi, Mat.”

Mat looks up from his phone and parrots, “hi, Mat,” with a shit eating grin on his face.

“He’s the worst,” you roll your eyes affectionately and hold up the cookie box so it’s in frame. “Anyway, I wanted to do something different than the usual Crumbl cookie sampling, and since Chip City is in our town, I figured this was the best thing. I invited Mat, because, well, I’m not sure if you know this but my husband has the biggest sweet tooth.”

You fight to keep your face in a neutral expression, but can’t help the corner of your mouth ticking up when you see Mat’s eyebrows lift nearly into his hairline on screen. His own mouth tips down in a slight, curious frown, but he doesn’t say anything.

So you continue, “it’s not anything like my mother-in-law’s peach cobbler, but Mat will kill a chocolate chip cookie in record time.” You shift in your seat, turning to face him, and keep your gaze locked on a point in the middle of his forehead, because if you look him in the eye, you’ll crack up. “Which do you want to try first, babe? Wait, let me guess, banana cream pie?”

There’s amusement in his tone when he holds out his hand and says, “oh for sure. Hand it over!”

He squints at you and you avoid his gaze when you pass over the cookie. Pretending to think, you look down at the box, “I’m going to try the dark chocolate peanut butter first, I think. Unlike my husband,” you smile at the camera, holding up the cookie while you break it in half to show the melted peanut butter swirls on the inside, “I like my desserts a little less sweet. Lemon bars, carrot cake, cheesecake, that kind of thing. Last week was lemon berry, which is a top three cookie for me.”

You can see Mat jolt in surprise again on screen, his head swinging to look at you. His eyes are wide and his lips are fighting a laugh.

“Yeah,” Mat smirks at the camera, breaking his own cookie in half and taking a huge bite. He chews and swallows before continuing, “the wifey is pretty picky on her desserts.”

Mat’s words sink in and you do a double take, jaw falling open a little. Mat’s grin turns shit eating and he takes another huge bite of his cookie while you blink stupidly at him. “What-?” You frown, ignoring the way your heart is pounding and your stomach is clenching with the echo of Mat saying ‘wifey’ in your ear.

He licks a spot of whipped cream off the side of his thumb and your core throbs.

“Uno reverse, Squeaks,” Mat laughs. “Do you think you’re the only one with Tik Tok?”

“Oooh,” you scrunch your face up at him, “you knew what I was up to?” He nods and your hand shoots out to push at his shoulder.

“Hey!” He yelps, chuckling. “I figured it out when you referred to Mom as your mother-in-law.”

You put your cookie back in the box and tap the record button on your phone, ending the video. “I honestly thought you’d have a better reaction,” you laugh a little, pulling your left foot up onto the seat and turning completely so you’re facing Mat. You shift the box too, so it’s on top of the center console.

Mat talks as he swaps out his banana cream pie for a piece of the s’mores, a string of marshmallow connecting the broken piece from the rest in the box, “why? Not a secret that I’m gonna wife you up in the future. I like hearing you call me your husband.”

He says it so casually, so easily, that it shocks you a little. When you first met Mat, you had thought dating him would be a fun time, but you’d never imagined that you’d be here - with him talking about marriage as if it’s a foregone conclusion.

“Well,” you murmur, feeling warm and content, “for the record, I liked hearing you call me wifey. So I guess we’re even.”

Mat looks up at you, hazel eyes lit up and glowing where the sun hits his face. He looks even more edible than the cookies. “You called me husband twice, don’t think we’re even just yet…” he drags out the pause with a sly smile on his face and you think he may use the w-word again, but he just lets the silence linger, the possibility hanging in the air.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal headcanon #mat barzal fic

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joeys-babe · 3 months

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Joey B Imagines: Maneater

————————————————————————-

Summary: Joe meets the Bengals’ new female athletic trainer and finds her infatuating, but other guys on the team warn him of her and her reputation.

(Part one to - part 2, part 3)

Warnings: None

Pairing: Joe Burrow x *athletic trainer* reader

Imagine Universe: Misc.

————————————————————————-

August 9, 2022

“Yo, do you know what this last-minute meeting is ‘bout?” - Ja’Marr

“There's a meeting?” - Joe

I was just sitting at my locker after practice when Ja’Marr came striding up to me.

“Something about a new trainer, I heard.” - Sam

“Oh yeah?” - Joe

“Heard its a female.” - Tee yelled from around the corner

“Why do all of you people eavesdrop?” - Joe shook his head with a laugh.

——

“Okay, settle down everyone!” - Zac

At once. the entire meeting room went silent at the sound of our head coach's voice.

The franchise owner, Mike Brown, was standing next to him, seemingly about to announce something of his own.

“Mike you can take it from here.” - Zac

The older man gave Zac a nod and stood closer to the middle of the floor.

“Thanks for all of you coming together at such short notice, but I'd like to introduce you to our newest hire. She's an astounding athletic trainer and is here to keep you guys healthy as well as get the injured healthy. y/n, would you please step out?” - Mike

The new athletic trainer, y/n, stepped out, and she was one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever laid eyes on.

“Woah.” - someone mumbled

“Hey guys, I'm super excited to be working with the Bengals this season! I grew up in Cincinnati as a Bengals fan, so this is a full-circle moment for me! I'll be in my office if you have any questions you'd like me to answer.” - you smiled

When everyone left the meeting room, there was a bustle in the locker room, with almost every player talking about y/n’s striking beauty.

Unlike everyone else, though, instead of talking about her, I went to her office to talk to her.

Firmly, I knocked on her office door.

“Come in!” - you

After taking a deep breath, I opened the door.

She sent a warm smile my way, and I sent one back.

“Hi, Mr. Burrow! Do you have a question, or is there anything I can help you with?” - you

“No, actually. I just wanted to welcome you to the organization.” - Joe

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Burrow.” - you smiled

“Just call me Joe.” - Joe smiled

“Will do.” - you grinned

Just as I was about to reply, Nick Cosgray, the director of rehabilitation, opened the door.

His eyes darted to me, then to y/n.

“Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting something?” - Nick

“No, I was just leaving.” - Joe

I stood up and reached to shake y/n’s hand.

“It was nice meeting you.” - Joe

“Vice-versa. I look forward to working with you in the near future.” - you

After nodding, I exited the office.

Ja’Marr was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed while shaking his head.

“What?” - Joe

“You just flashed her with your blue eyes and charm, huh?” - Ja’Marr

“Maybe.” - Joe shrugged with a sly grin

——

August 10, 2022

I was getting lunch in the cafeteria today, scooting my tray around and picking through all of the healthy options.

One last banana, thank god.

As I reached for it, another hand brushed mine, and I pulled my hand back.

When I looked at the person next to me, my stomach fluttered when I saw it was y/n.

“Oh, shit, sorry. You can have it.” - Joe

“Nah, it's okay. I might have one in my car.” - you

“Ew, car banana in the summer? Absolutely not.” - Joe

She laughed and I couldn't help but grin at the way her nose scrunched up.

“I'm not taking a banana from QB1.” - you

“And I'm not taking a banana from the new girl, either.” - Joe

“How about we split it.” - you

“Great idea.” - Joe winked

y/n grabbed the banana and nodded her head to tell me to follow her.

In the corner of my eye, I could see Sam at our usual table, giving me a confused face as I walked in the opposite direction.

She sat her tray down on the table and unpeeled the banana, y/n broke it in half, and placed one piece on my tray.

“Pleasure doing business with ya.” - you

“You too. Are you gonna sit over here by yourself?” - Joe

“No, I'm going back to my office.” - you

“Oh okay. If you ever want to, you can come sit with me, Sam, and Trey.” - Joe

“Thank you for the offer. Have a good lunch, Joe.” - you

That was the first time she’d ever said my name, and it rolled off of her tongue perfectly.

“You too, y/n.” - Joe

She nodded with a smile and walked away. I watched her till she disappeared around the corner and then walked over to my table.

Sam and Trey were giving me weird looks when I sat down, along with Ja’Marr and Tee at the table beside us.

“What?” - Joe furrowed his brows

“The hell was that?” - Sam

“What are you talking about?” - Joe

“You don't share, especially not your fuckin’ food.” - Ja’Marr

Rolling my eyes, I tried to come up with a feasible excuse.

“We reached for it at the same time, only fair to split it.” - Joe

“Joe, dude, I know she's pretty, but have you heard about her?” - Sam

“Heard what?” - Joe

“She's been a trainer for like five other teams. Before she leaves the team, there's always this article saying she hooked up with a player. After she left the Niners, Nick confirmed that she got with the player she was rumored to get with. She's weird about it too, like explicitly telling the guy he’ll never be more than a one-night stand before getting with him. Usually, she's gone in the morning and has filed her two weeks' notice with the team.” - Sam

“What the fuck? Why do teams keep hiring her then?” - Joe

“She's good at what she does, athletic training-wise. But, really, dude, the woman's wild.” - Sam

“Watch out, boy, she’ll chew you up.” - Ja’Marr

“For real, she's a total maneater.” - Sam

————————————————————————-

Authors note: This fic came from my very own brain! 😆

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow series

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sigmalaussene · 3 months

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Top ten weird ways Oswald Cobbepot gets called in Gotham

As I was rewatching Gotham, I decided to write down every name that people in the show canonically call Oswald Cobblepot aka the Penguin. It was a wild ride. Please enjoy

10. "Funny looking fellow"

(season one)

We start with a simple one. This isn't even an insult, it's just a fact. He is, indeed, a funny looking fellow. I'm pretty sure they say it more than once too.

9. "The Dapper Gangland Kingpin"

(season two)

This one it's just silly, especially since it was written on a newspaper. Just... that's weird ? Idk it's silly it makes me chuckle

8. "Yellow rat snitch"

(season one)

We start getting a little weirder. Why a rat? And, more importantly, why yellow???

7. "Stupid lame birdbrain"

(season four)

Just so mean. Especially since this scene it's his dumb husband making a room full of people chant it

6. "Golden goose"

(season one)

Right back to season one and it's incredible dialogue. This one is particularly amazing thanks to Oswald's reply to it, which was, of course: "Honk honk". I can't even start to describe that scene. It's a classic.

5. "Beaky nosed freak"

(season five)

Definitely the best nickname the last season had to offer. Like, you know that moment when a guy kills your bestfriend/girlfriend and you call him the silliest name you can think of? This is one of those times.

4. "Scaley faced bitch"

(season one)

This is the first one in the show, directly from the first episode. I am a firm supporter of calling men bitches when they deserve it, and he did, so I wholeheartedly approve this message. Adding the scaley face part just makes it more poetic.

3. "Sad little breadhead"

(season two)

This one from never fails. Imagine it delivered with the most condicending tone in the world. Just amazing. Makes me laugh every time.

2. "Fruitcake leprechaun"

(season two)

This. This is the one that started it all. It was thinking about this one that I decided that this rewatch I was gonna write down all the nicknames. I dont know if it has something to do with english not being my first language, so I don't have the background of the word "fruitcake" used as an homophobic remark, but this name is one of the funniest things I have ever heard in my life.

1. "Limping little chickenbutt second banana"

(season one)

This couldn't not be on the first place. I am obsessed with the writers of this show, i want to get inside their brains. Because like what does it mean? How did they come up with this? I need to know every thought that crossed their mind for them to write this. This is art. This is poetry. Incredible. Amazing. Absolutely insane. Kudos to the actor who played Maroni because if they gave me that line I wouldn't be able to say it with a straight face.

Bonus:

(For the fans, he is also called "the only thing Nygma cares about". Just... you know, in case you forgot)

Some recurrent nicknames are: "Pengy", "Ozzie", "freak", "cockroach", "punk", bird related names (bird/birdman, feathered friend, chicken, turkey...) and "little"/"tiny" followed by almost anything (man, friend, dirtbag, bastard, creep, twerp, freak, weasel...)

Edit: i realize i didn't mention "Major Crumblepot" and that's on me sorry guys

His haircut is described as "disco vampire hair" at one point (another classic)

He is also called "specimen", which is really funny, and "dewdropper"?? for some reason I don't remember but it was in my notes and I couldn't ignore it lmao

#ofc “penguin” is implied #i finished my latest rewatch!!! ajsnakak i love this little silly guy so much AND i made my brother love him too YAY #gotham oswald #oswald copplepot #ed nygma #nygmobblepot #gotham #riddlebird #gotham fox #show #tv show #top ten #top ten weird ways oswald cobblepot gets called #gotham fandom #scaley faced bitch <3 #fandom meme #gotham meme

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 4 months

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yin & yang pt. 4

Pairing: Ben Tennyson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.7k words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: You were an unlikely pair, everyone could see that. But what happens when you get a glimpse into a future where your differences were too much for you to bear?

A/N: Once again just a silly little self-indulgent fic. Hope you enjoy!

Ben groaned in boredom, laying his face against the dirty tables outside Mr. Smoothie. Not even the smoothie, cheekily titled banana-fantana, was able to cheer him up like Gwen had been hoping.

"What's up with you?" Kevin asked, drinking his soda that he got from a nearby vending machine, after he had refused a smoothie four times.

"I miss (Y/N)." He mumbled, pouting.

They shared a glance over his head. Gwen ushered for Kevin to speak but he shook his head adamantly, mouthing that he wanted no part in this and crossing his arms.

Gwen glared at him.

"Speaking of (Y/N)—" Kevin began, all too quickly.

Ben finally raised his head from the table to look at Kevin and his friend bit his tongue, turning back to Gwen with wide eyes and beckoning her to speak.

"Uh, it's not that we don't like (Y/N)—we do! She's a great addition to the team and a good friend even—and um, Kevin?"

The man in question gave her a wicked glare before Ben turned to him and the murderous expression on his face was wiped away, "Gwen's just concerned that you might be—how did she put it—'acting like a lovesick fool'."

The look he got from Gwen was in stark contrast to the pig-headed grin he was bearing.

"What are you talking about?"

Gwen finally sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder, "We all know that you have this crush on (Y/N) but—and I mean this in the nicest way possible—but don't you think it's time that you start, you know, trying to get over her?"

He raised a brow, "Why on earth would I do that?"

"It's nice that you like her so much, but you know what (Y/N)'s like; she's driven and focused and her career as a Proctor is the most important thing to her—not that that's a bad thing! It's just—well—someone like that doesn't really seem like the type to date or be into relationships, you know?"

"That's not all what she's about. I know it doesn't seem like it but she's actually really sensitive and sweet."

They shared another glance, unconvinced.

"Guys, I'm serious! We have something between us!" He defended, unconsciously clenching his fist, and crushing the half-full smoothie cup in his hand.

Gwen let out an irate sigh.

Growing up, she had only heard of how smart she was from everyone surrounding her—her parents, her grandfather, even Ben—and yet whenever she tried to explain something to people, they tended not to listen.

If only Ben would listen to her now, he'd be able to avoid so much pain in the future. Whenever she tried to gently nudge him, he'd never listen so this time she took a more direct approach and yet, he still wasn't listening.

"Ben, please. I can tell that you're actually falling for her but honestly, where do you even see this going? Do you actually believe that you're going to get married and have kids or something like that?"

"Gwen, I'm just sixteen, it's way too soon to be worrying about something like that!"

"So, you're just going to date her until it becomes a problem?"

Ben rolled his eyes, standing from the table, "How about you mind your own business and keep your nose out of my relationship. I don't have to sit here and convince you of anything."

Kevin watched him walk away before letting out a low whistle, ignoring his girlfriend's glare, "I told you that was a bad idea."

***

Ben kept a single hand on the wheel as he drove the two of you over the museum, where you were supposed to meet Gwen and Kevin for a mission. You had long stopped reprimanding him for not driving with both hands since he began throwing tantrums and claiming he couldn't focus if your fingers weren't intertwined with his free one.

The roads were empty at this time of night anyway.

"Hey, did Gwen talk to you about anything? Me, specifically?" Ben brought up and you immediately picked up on the slight squeeze of his hand in yours but didn't comment on it.

"Not lately, no. Is something wrong?"

Ben let out a relieved sigh, "Nope, nothing at all."

You raised a brow at this, staring at him with suspicious eyes. He eventually caught on to your prying gaze and immediately attempted to change the topic, pretending like you didn't notice his futile attempts to do so.

"That's a pretty necklace, where'd you get it?"

You rolled your eyes, watching as a cheeky grin grew on his face at your response. He was not hiding his giddiness very well, but how could he? You, his beautiful girlfriend, whom his cousin said was a monotonous emotionless dead-end (she didn't actually say this, but Ben was offended all the same), was wearing the necklace that he had gifted her.

It was fairly simple, a thin chain with a small pendant with a gemstone. He knew you wouldn't wear something that was flashy or too gaudy, so he settled for something he knew you'd like.

And the sight of you wearing the necklace even though you usually insisted that any accessories that weren't a part of the uniform could sometimes hinder the mission was completely worth the hours of time spent staring at different necklaces that all looked the same and troubling his mother for advice until she hurled a wet sponge at his head.

***

When he was responding to the distress signal on his Omnitrix at the museum, Ben wasn't expecting to get attacked by a bunch of ninja that seemed to appear out of nowhere before disappearing into thin air.

You stared at the green tablet in the crate as you wondered just where you had seen the artifact before.

"It's the Hands of Armageddon." You explained, going through your database quickly to pull up all the information the plumbers had on it, "It's an artifact that was secured by the plumbers more than 2 centuries ago. It's said to be a crosstime gateway created by the Chronians, but we have yet to prove that. It's virtually indestructible though. The Plumbers have had multiple attempts and they all resulted in mass disasters."

You turned to Gwen, "The vision you saw was probably an alternate dimension—"

"Right as always, young (Y/N)."

Before the flash of light behind you could even disappear, you were pointing a gun at it, only lowering it when you saw Paradox emerge through the blinding light, accompanied by someone you'd never met before and yet, still recognized.

"Who's your friend?"

Ben stared at him with apprehension before realization struck him, "Are you?"

The man responded with a startlingly deep voice, "That's right, Ben, I'm you—only even more awesome."

You were hardly surprised, the man before you was a splitting image of your boyfriend and you averted your gaze to hide the oncoming heat to your cheeks at the sight of his beard and his stronger build. He certainly grew up nicely.

Ben 10k and Professor Paradox didn't waste any time and began to explain just what problems the group of you had somehow managed to get stuck in once again. As the four of you heard their explanations, you heard a slight sound coming from the back of the museum.

"Shh."

Ben 10k raised a brow at you, opening his mouth to say something when you shushed him again, with a fierce glare this time. It was only a second more before you were swerving around to point your gun at another intruder, a woman this time, who was pointing her own gun at you.

Your mouth dropped open in shock, faced with an older version of yourself.

She looked like you, that much was obvious, but she was also different, much more womanly than you were, with more rounded curves and a more matured face.

Recognizing her younger self, the you from the future lowered her own gun and placed it back into her holster, taking a look around the room and registering just how many faces were there.

"What the hell is she doing here?!"

She raised a brow at him, lips pursed in annoyance, "Excuse me?"

Paradox sighed, "I apologize for this, Ben, but this involves her future as well."

He gritted his teeth in fury, rolling his eyes, "That's just great."

You spared a glance at your boyfriend, whose face had fallen so far it looked like he had just had his heart broken.

Gwen sighed, whispering something that had only been audible, to him and you watched as his face fell deeper, "I tried to warn you, Ben."

***

Professor Paradox was one of the most infuriating people in the entire universe. You had gathered as much since the first time you had the displeasure of meeting him, but he seemed intent on reminding you exactly why you disliked him.

He spoke in riddles, appeared and disappeared as he pleased, never made any sense but expected everyone to listen to him with no explanation whatsoever.

And so, it didn't help your opinion of him when the cargo hull of the jet began rumbling, signalling intruders, that he was all too quick to disappear without bothering to help fight them.

You cursed out his mother in your head as he vanished within a flash of light, pocket-watch in hand and a quippy remark on his lips.

The ninjas began appearing out of nowhere and despite there being the five of you, you were confined to a small space, and they multiplied like pests until the whole hull was full of them. It obviously didn't help that Ben 10k chose then to transform into humungousaur, taking up the remaining of what little space you had.

You didn't even have enough time to come up with a good strategy before you were being attacked with multiple opponents at the same time. It didn't take much to disarm one of them, now using their own swords to attack them.

There were too many and they just kept appearing. Your eyes bounced around the room, trying to figure out how to get the upper hand in such a cramped space.

Your older self, having the same idea, sprinted across the room, disarming as many soldiers around her as she could. Although, there was something odd about the way she moved.

She was at the same strength level as you were. After 20 years, shouldn't she be more adept than you were? Ben was capable of using his arsenal of powers without even transforming into any aliens, but she didn't display any remarkable feat of strength.

It was almost as though she wasn't able to. An injury perhaps? Maybe she was still recovering? You bit your lip, slashing the sword through another ninja. If you could find out what caused it, maybe you could prevent it from happening to you.

"Stay out of this, (Y/N)!" Ben 10k snarled, voice booming through the room and causing slight vibrations in the metal due to his size.

You paused for a second, sharing a glance with your boyfriend, who seemed equally surprised. Your future self, unbothered, continued to stampede through the other opponents until she reached the switch to the hangar and flipped it open.

Immediately the hangar opened, and you braced yourself, holding onto Ben's car that had been strapped down. Ben had the same idea, holding onto the handles and pressing his front against your back, making sure you were both anchored down.

The ninjas flew out of the jet, the vacuum of wind deeming too much for them and you watched them disappear, one by one, as they capsized through the air before the hangar door finally closed again.

"What the hell were you thinking?! That was so incredibly reckless—"

"Stop talking to her like that!" Your Ben interrupted his future self, wedging himself in between your future counterparts and glaring at him, "You're acting like an ass instead of apologizing! If I were you, I'd be on my knees begging for her to take me back!"

"Take me back? What are you—We're not broken up!"

Ben's eyes widened at this before he turned to your future self, "And you'd stay with someone who'd treat you like that?"

The woman in question sighed, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder, "Try not to be too upset, Ben. He's not usually like this. He's just mad—"

"I'm not mad at (Y/N)." Ben 10k argued, crossing his arms and everyone raised a brow, they clearly didn't believe him. Your future self merely gave him a blank stare before he caved.

"Alright fine, I'm mad at you." Hardly a surprise, "Need I remind you that we just left our son all alone at our home that was just attacked by a bunch of ninjas?"

Ben's jaw dropped open hearing that. Our son? He had a son? With the love of his life no less? This whole time he thought that there was nothing but disappointment and heartbreak for your future together but now he's finding out that he had a family with the girl he was in love with?

Funny that it was only this morning he was claiming that he was too young to be thinking of such things and yet, the thought had his heart swelling.

"I checked on him before we left, no one even made it to the hallway outside his room. Besides, when we go back, we'll be taken to the exact moment we left, not even a fraction of a second later. Kenny will be fine."

"It would be nice if you could show some concern at least." He huffed, "You're not even worried about the fact that we just left our newborn alone. All you're thinking about is this mission and you're putting yourself at risk."

Future you rolled her eyes, sighing as she took a seat on ship, "Here we go again."

"Oh, forgive me for worrying about my wife. Where do I get the audacity?" Her husband shot a glare at her.

Gwen's eyes flitted between the two of them, only able to see the similarities between their relationship in the future and also in the present. Her cousin apparently got married and started a family with the girl she didn't think was good enough for him.

Would Ben still not be able to see what a mistake he's making, even after a decade? Or was she the one who wasn't able to see clearly?

"(Y/N), you just gave birth five weeks ago and you haven't fully recovered. You're supposed to be taking it easy, not fighting some crazed time traveller. "

No wonder she was moving at a slower rate than usual, she was still in her post-partum recovery. For a woman who just spent the last 10 months of her life growing and then providing for a living, breathing human, she fought impressively well. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

"Firstly, I can take care of myself. Secondly, Paradox didn't ask before zapping us back here."

"Fair enough but I want you to be on the sidelines for the remainder of the mission unless absolutely necessary." He folded his arms, giving a firm stare that meant he was being resolute. Your future self held his stare for a second before coming to the realization that not much would deter him.

She sighed, "Fine."

A pleased smile made its way to his face as he leaned down to kiss her forehead, "Excellent."

"You're a lot of work, Tennyson."

"Right back at you, Tennyson."

You spared a glance at your boyfriend, choosing to keep the information that you found his impish grin at the thought of a future with you adorable a secret and instead asked, "Did you really think that we had broken up in the future?"

His brows went toward his hairline, "You didn't? They were practically at each other's throats the whole time."

"Firstly, they're each wearing wedding rings, and second," You walked over to your future self, reaching for her collar and pulling out a familiar chain from underneath her shirt, "I saw this the second she got here."

Ben blushed, "You still wear it? It looks a little different though."

"I replaced the gem." She explained, toying with the pendant.

"Why?"

"It's her son's birthstone." "It's my son's birthstone." Both (Y/N)'s said in unison and the others gave you a bewildered stare.

"How'd you know?"

You shrugged, "Because that's something I would do."

***

Once again, you were all left in the middle of the desert at night after Paradox abandoned you one again and you continued your line of curses about his entire family in your head as you trudged back to the jet to call a team of plumbers to get you home as well as begin repairs to the jet that was damaged in the fight.

Kevin followed you closely to try and see if there was any way he could repair it just enough to get you back to Bellwood. Ben was about to enter as well when he was stopped by his cousin, who seemed sheepish enough that he immediately knew what the conversation was going to be about.

"I owe you an apology, Ben. I'm sorry for not trusting your judgment and for thinking the worst of you and (Y/N). You both make a cute couple."

He nodded, "It's okay, I didn't exactly have faith in my own relationship when I immediately concluded that they had broken up."

"I'm sure the conversation we had this morning didn't help either, don't feel too bad about it."

He nodded once again and they dissolved back into silence before she gave him a teasing smile, "So, a son, huh?"

His cheeks went warm, and he gave her a look mixed with both embarrassment and a little bit of pride, scratching the back of his neck with a meek chuckle, "Yeah, I always pictured myself as a girl dad though."

Her grin went even wider, and she laughed, "I thought you said you were too young to think about things like this?!"

***

*Exactly Twenty Years Later*

Ben peeked his head into the nursery to greet his beautiful son that was most likely asleep after being fed and changed, only to find the room empty and crib missing.

His mind knew that if his son wasn't in his crib then he would obviously be in the arms of his mother and yet, as he sped to your shared bedroom, he felt a slight panic thrum through his veins.

Everyone had brought this to his attention time and time again; that he had become extremely high-strung when it came to his family. Especially since you had gotten pregnant. It was only when his son was on the way did he realize just how fragile everything was and how quickly it could be ripped away from him.

He passed his arm over the sensor at your door, it immediately recognizing the signal from his Omnitrix and unlocking the door before entering, finding you settled on your bed, Kenny clutched close to your heart.

You watched him cross the bedroom in long strides and settle on the mattress beside you, saying nothing about the clear distress that you had seen on his face when the door opened before it was flooded with relief. You understood; you had felt the same way, which is why you had rolled your son's crib into your bedroom so you could keep a close eye on him for the rest of the night.

You turned your gaze back to the baby in your arms, gently tracing his features with the tip of your pinkie finger, watching with a deep fondness and adoration as Kenny's little face would scrunch up every time you caressed his button nose.

"He's okay, right?" Your husband questioned, needing your reassurance for the last bit of worry for his son to evaporate.

"You think I'd be sitting here without a care in the world if he wasn't?" You murmured, not lifting your eyes from his precious face.

Ben chuckled at this, "Yeah, like that time he got the hiccups, and you couldn't sleep the entire night because you kept checking on him in four-minute intervals?"

"What if his little diaphragm got fatigued?" You mumbled; brows furrowed at the thought. Constant hiccups were painful to deal with as an adult, you could only imagine how painful it would be for a baby who didn’t know what the pain was or how to communicate his pain to his parents.

Ben didn’t respond, already having been through this conversation with you the very night it happened.

The two of you continued to watch your son in silence, finding every single little breath he took interesting as you continued to graze your finger over his skin, now tracing the outline of his little lips, the bottom lip tucked tightly into his mouth as he slept.

Ben shifted closer to you, taking the two of you in his arms and pressing a kiss to the side of your head as one of his arms came to support yours and bear the weight of your son as well.

"I'm sorry for saying that you didn't care about Kenny and only the mission. I know you worry about him more than you express, and I appreciate everything you do for the both of us."

"You were just lashing out of worry." You replied, leaning against him, "It was the first time we both left our home without him, even though we didn't technically leave him alone for a second. I felt uneasy about it as well."

"Regardless, I shouldn't have said that you didn't care, Kenny and I know you love us."

"I do."

You quietened down immediately when your son took a big breath, slightly stirring before he fell back asleep, the littlest smile on his little face.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@haniscrying

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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Plain Old Man - Jim Hopper x Reader

Summary: Jim can't figure out why you love him. After all, isn't he just a plain old man?

Contents/Warnings: hop's self-conscious :(, consensual + legal age gap, fem!reader

requested: hopper x younger really feminine reader. he think she’s the cutest thing ever and that she’s too good for him so he’s kind of upset, but she figures it out and sits on his lap and kissing all over his body </333 // slightly deviated from, but i hope you still enjoy it!

WC: 1.47K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You love Fridays, because when Jim swings by the pizza place for your dinner, he stops into the boutique next door, and always brings you something. Last week it was a pair of dangly earrings, shimmery and green in the shapes of fairy wings. The week before that it was a silver necklace with a pearl charm, to match a set of earrings he'd gotten before that.

You're buzzing with excitement as you hear his car pull up outside, and you bypass the hand he's balancing the pizza on to wrap your arms around his waist. They interlock behind him and you squeeze, wishing you could latch yourself onto him forever and hang off of him like a sloth.

"Hop!"

"Hey, sweetheart." You feel a kiss placed on the crown of your head, his mustache prickling the skin there, "Let's get inside, okay? Pizza's gonna get cold."

Your nose is, too, so you let him nudge you back inside before it starts to ache.

"I baked us muffins," You inform him, taking the box from his hands and watching him toe off his muddy work shoes by the door, "They're blueberry, but I added that topping over them that you liked last time on the banana ones. It's a little sticky, and kinda clumpy, but it tastes the same!"

He nods through your ramble, eyes lighting up at not only the prospect of muffins but of the special crumble you lay over top. He ushers you into the kitchen, but when you reach for the lid of the pizza box he sets a hand on your waist.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he pats the breast pocket of his jacket, and you visibly brighten.

"Oh! Oh," You gush, reaching eagerly for the bag that he hands you, crinkly plastic and purple-tinted, "Thank you, honey."

Your nails pry at the tissue paper that's wrapping whatever present you've gotten, and when you rip the tape away it reveals two barrettes, one pink and one blue. they're beaded, shimmery under the light, and they'll look adorable tucked into your hair.

"Hop," You gush, surging forwards to face-plant into his chest, "I love them! I can use them to twist my hair back like I've been doing lately."

"I know," He nods, leaning forwards to bump his nose into your own, his eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile, "That's why I bought them. I know the pins haven't been holding it."

You'd stolen two worn-out, dented bobby pins from Jim's nightstand, that you're fairly certain he'd used to pick locks with. It concerned you, but he hasn't asked for them back, so you're sure his lock-picking days are behind him.

"Put 'em in!" You urge him, unclipping the barrettes from the card they're on and dumping them into his large, rough hand, "You know how to do it, right?"

"I know how to pull your hair back," He scoffs, sticking one clip between his teeth so that his words muffle as he uses his hands to twist a chunk of your hair away from your face. He pulls it back and secures it with the clip, a snap letting you know it won't fall out.

"Perfect," He praises you (though you think it might be aimed at himself), and pops a kiss to the metal clip.

Your smile is infectious as he uses the other clip on the opposite side of your head, thick fingers twisting your delicate hair carefully. When it's pinned he kisses that side, too, and backs away to look at you head-on.

He smiles, but it's strange. It doesn't fade, per se, but the look in his eyes shifts, and your gut churns with nerves when they seem to be sad.

"Hop?" You tilt your head, watching him try and fail to focus on you instead of whatever's happening in his head, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," He nods, pressing a mediocre kiss to your cheek as he rushes for the pizza box behind you, "Yeah, sweetheart. You look real pretty. Let's eat, okay?"

He plates his pizza in silence, so you do too. But it's strange, because he always complains about the cheese not being gooey when he pulls slices apart, and there's not a peep out of him today. Just a downcast glance that tracks his feet all the way to the couch. He typically spreads out, eager to relax after a day of work, but he sits proper, plate on his lap and eyes on the tv.

You reach down to flick it on when you pass, and you sit closer to his side than you normally would. You feel his thigh tense up against your own, and you frown, glancing over at him.

"Jim," You croon, setting your hand cautiously against his thigh, "Are you okay? The truth this time, please."

"Yeah, honey, I.. I don't know." He shakes his head slightly, blinking rapidly and sighing, "It's fine, really. I like your clips, sweetheart, they look good."

He goes to take another bite of pizza, but you pull it out of his hands just before he can. It means that his teeth clack together instead of meeting the bread, and he looks bewilderedly at you, hand still outstretched.

"Hey," He frowns, "That's my pizza."

"I know it's your pizza," You plop it back onto the plate, setting it on the coffee table and taking its place in his lap, "It'll still be your pizza when you tell me what's bothering you."

He sighs again, and this time you feel it where your hands are braced on his belly. You smooth your hands over it, tracing your thumbs from the dip of his navel out to his sides.

"Tell me, Jim," You plead, "I'm worried about you."

He looks at you for a moment, head-on, eye to eye and face to face, and breaks. He murmurs a gruff 'fuck,' under his breath, head drooping down so that his chin meets his chest.

"Jim," You whine, tucking your fingers under his chin and lifting it so that he can't avoid your eyes, "Just tell me, honey. I need to know."

"You are.." He pauses, cupping your cheek and smiling sadly at you, "Gorgeous. You know that?"

"You tell me all the time," You promise him, shimmying your hips slightly to press your tummy further into his, "What's that got to do with anything?"

"I think you're too gorgeous for me. And sweet, and nice, and perfect. I'm a plain old man," He gestures to himself, his beige uniform and scruffy stubble, "That's it."

"You're not a plain old man," You chide him, pinching at the pudge of his belly, "You're the man I love. You know that, don't you? That I love you."

"I'd like to think so," His smile stays sad, "I just can't think of a reason you would."

"Well because- because you're.. you! Jim," Your brows furrow and you lean closer, nose-to-nose, "I love you because of who you are. Not because of any one specific reason, the reason is just you. I love you, Jim Hopper."

His hand cups the back of your neck and pushes you forwards. It's not a kiss, but your lips meet, as do your foreheads as your noses smush together.

"You're too good to me," He murmurs, his voice slightly raspy.

"No," You protest, pecking his lower lip in a sweet smooch, "I could never be too good to you. 'Cause you deserve the best."

"You are cheesy today," He chuckles, but you know it's not an insult as much as it is an observation, "Did those muffins have extra sugar in them? Something's got you all sweet."

"It's you," You grin, knocking your nose into his once more and digging your hands into the soft chub of his belly, "I'm glad you're home. I missed you all day, I wanted to call you a bunch but I didn't wanna bother you."

"You wouldn't bother me," He promises, smoothing a hand down your back, "But it's probably not good to hold up the line at the police station."

"Yeah," You hum sadly, and lean down to tuck your face over his shoulder in a much-needed hug, "It's better when El's here. She keeps me company."

"Speaking of," He glances at the clock, patting your back gently, "We need to go get her soon. Max's mom said she can't stay another night, she's got chores to do."

"Finish your pizza," You clamber off of his lap and rush for your own plate, "Because before she comes back, you're going to make me happy scream."

"Oh, yeah?" He laughs as you settle yourself back against him on the couch, attention finally turned to the television, "We should brush our teeth first, then. I'm not kissing pizza breath."

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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joshlmbrt · 3 months

Note

cherry my lovely, can you do a enemies to lovers plot with Steve and the reader where Robin and Dustin get fed up with their fighting and lock them in the store room

sorry this took so long, b! i was gonna make it into a oneshot - but i hope you don’t mind a drabble! i hope this is what you kind of wanted! w; enemies to lovers (not really a warning lol), dustin and robin enjoying banter but annoyed, henderson!reader

there he is - the bane of your existence.

steve harrington. in his little blue work outfit that you loved hated.

“try to be bearable, please.” dustin looks over at you.

you roll your eyes. “if steve wasn’t such a prick, i wouldn’t have to be one back.”

dustin narrows his eyes at you. “that logic-”

“makes sense, let’s go.” your hand shoots out and grabs at the strap of his bag, tugging him forward.

dustin trips over his shoes before he’s quickly straightening up, swatting your hand away from his bag.

“ahoy! my name is-” steve stops short, sighing about when he sees you. “oh. it’s you.”

“you wound me.”

dustin’s eyes jump back and forth, brow lifting. you both were oblivious. or you both wanted to hide how you felt and didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself if the other didn’t feel the same way.

that had to be it.

the little turd smirks when he thinks up a plan.

“- and i hate you.” he blinks when he hears your voice, mouth dropping.

steve smirks, leaning on the counter. “that’s a strong emotion to have for me, honey.”

your cheeks flush and you square your shoulders, arms crossing over your chest. “where is robin?”

his smirk stretches more when he notices he’s gotten under your skin - again.

“lunch break. so it’s just us.”

“great. i’ll go find her,” you turn to dustin. “do not leave until i come back with robin.”

dustin rolls his eyes. “yeah, yeah,” he then looks at steve. “make me that banana split, steve. extra cherries.”

the past two days, you’ve been staying away from scoops ahoy.

until today when dustin runs up to you. “robin needs to see you!”

your brows lift slightly. “why?”

he hadn’t thought of the why but quickly comes up with, “she wants you to try a new ice cream flavor.”

you shrug, nodding as you turn and walk towards scoops, dustin grinning suspiciously behind you. your nose is prodded when you step in by the sickly sweet smell.

“dustin said you had a new ice cream you wanted me to try?”

robin tilts her head slightly before nodding. “uh, yeah. it’s in the freezer. come on.”

you follow behind robin and dustin follows behind you. she opens the freezer door.

you stumble inside and the last thing you see is robin’s apologetic face. “sorry.”

the door shuts. you let out a noise, walking towards the door, knocking on it. “guys! this is a sick joke!”

“you’re telling me!” you turn to look over your shoulder, groaning loudly.

“are you kidding me!” your palm flattens and slaps the cold door. “let me out of here or you guys are cleaning up blood and you’ll be losing a co-worker!”

“you guys need to sort this out! i won’t open the door until i feel like it’s clear!” dustin’s voice is muffled. “and when i feel like you won’t kill me.”

your jaw clenches and you turn, back resting against the door. “i cant believe im locked in here with you.”

“you’re not exactly who i wanna be locked in the freezer with either, honey.”

“stop calling me that!”

“i’ll sleep on it.” he shakes his head, hands on his hips as he starts the pace the floor.

you cross your arms, rubbing your hands up and down your bicep.

“why do you hate me?” your eyes lift from the floor and you look at steve. “what did i do?”

your brows pinch together. “are you serious?” he doesn’t say anything, just stares at you. “okay. well, let’s start with how you let your friends bully me-"

“i did talk to them about it.”

“but you did nothing in the moment to stop it. you let it happen while others watched,” you quickly let him know it does no good to say something after the fact - they’ll never learn unless you call them out in the moment. “secondly, you’re a womanizer.”

his eyes twinkle and you immediately regret putting it that way.

“that’s not the compliment you think it is - and i meant you were a womanizer. you’re too caught up in high school propaganda and nancy wheeler to realize that there’s more to women.”

“hey, i’m over nancy, thank you very much. and im not caught up in high school propaganda. i just have standards.”

you snort. “what? standards like they couldn’t be in band? that they were on the sidelines or a cheerleader? your standards suck, steve, and quite frankly, you do-”

your words are cut off by a squeak. cold hands frame your face and there’s cold lips against yours.

your eyes slowly close, brows pinching together slightly when you melt into the kiss. his nose slides against your cheek when he pulls away slowly, pretty eyes looking into yours.

“sorry…”

your lips are kiss bitten and plump and he can’t help but steal another glance at them as you shake your head. “it’s okay…” it’s whispered.

your eyes shoot down to his lips again before looking back to his eyes. your hands are grabbing at the back of his head, pulling him closer again, surging forward and connecting your lips again.

his hands shoot down to your hips, gripping softly as he hums.

light then sheds into the room and your pulling away quickly, pushing your hair back as you wipe at your lip with your other hand. steve clears his throat, not moving away from you, his nose still grazing over your cheek.

there’s a giggle from dustin and you look over to see robin smirking.

“good eye, tiny human.” robin looks over at dustin.

he grins and looks at robin, holding his fist out. she gives in, fist bumping him.

#cherry writes ✿#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #joe keery x reader

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autisticlancemcclain · 4 months

Text

secret santa for @leenfiend

“And you two…”

Shiro turns to look at them both, eyes narrowed, hand on his hip. Even being half-held up by Allura, Keith wants to straighten up on reflex, dust off his armour, stand at attention. He breaks away from the heavy stare, glancing over at Lance, only to find him already looking. He sneers when Keith makes eye contact, and in seconds they’re turning away from each other, scowling.

“Yeah,” Shiro sighs, looking down at his comm. “Yeah, I gotta do something about you two.”

———

The something, it turned out, was busywork.

Keith thinks he might strangle his brother. Keith knows he and Lance have been…difficult, the past few weeks — although for the life of him he could not tell you why — but sending them on some stupid mission that was so clearly just meant to waste time was just insulting.

Keith huffs, looking at the mission file again.

MISSION FILE: 24-62-XC

OBJECTIVE: find bananas. or something i dunno

PERSONEL: idiot a and idiot b. shiro said to erase that and write your names but your bickering has been driving me insane so no. suffer

LOCATION: Kunedg-12-2

DANGER LEVEL: none unless you kill each other lol

He reminds himself to mess around on Pidge’s laptop the next time she leaves it unsupervised. This whole stupid file is embarrassing, but the disrespect of the mission objective has to be the worst part. She couldn’t even bother pretending to come up with one.

“Could you maybe go brood somewhere else?” Lance snarks, startling him out of his thoughts. He lifts a delicate hand off the joystick to pinch his nose like something reeks. “Your emo-ness is throwing off my vibe and your angsty sweaty hormones are stinking up the place. Maybe go sit near the garbage shoot, or something.”

Keith bites back a growl, fists clenching at his side. “I smell fine.”

“Like finely chopped onions, maybe. Yuck.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

Discreetly, Keith lifts up his arm and takes a whiff. He scowls harder — he smells like the same space brand deodorant they all use. Lance is just being a dick for no reason, like he always is, like what got them into this stupid mess in the first place.

“Just — land the damn Lion, Lance. Try not to kill us.”

Even though he was trying to be insulting, Keith regrets it as soon as he says it. Lance’s back goes ramrod straight, like he was zapped with Pidge’s bayard, and the temp in the cockpit drops thirty degrees.

“Lance —”

“Do not even attempt to finish that sentence,” he hisses. His hands wrapping around the controls are slow and deliberate. His shoulders are straight as a ruler.

Keith sighs, tipping his head back and letting it thunk on the back of the chair. He should’ve — goddamn it. He’s not sure what he should have done, but they might as well turn around now and go back to everyone else. They could stay on this planet for days, now, and Lance won’t so much as look at him. Keith is sure of it.

“Better hold tight. Might slip on the control and oops! Mercy me. I’m so clumsy and careless, I might just kill us.”

The Blue-turned -Red Paladin accompanies every biting remark with a sharp jerk of the thrusters, shaking the whole lion around. Red must be happy to help, because the smoothness that Keith knows should usually accompany her movements is nowhere to be found — she’s letting Lance yank them around to his heart’s content. Keith doesn’t have much of a connection to her anymore, but he can almost feel the impression of her snapping her tail in indignation.

He grits his teeth, determined not to give Lance the satisfaction of reacting. Even as they do nauseating barrel roll after barrel roll, even after Lance dives and dips like a crazy person, even after he lifts his hands off the controls and lets them drop, totally free falling — Keith says nothing.

At least, not until he hears a soft, “Oh, shoot.”

“‘Oh shoot’ what?” he asks cautiously, knowing this might be a trap. If Lance bites back with oh, so you really don’t trust me to pilot!, Keith is genuinely going to stomp over there and strangle him.

“Um. So. Buckle up,” Lance says, and Keith has to bite back a scream of frustration.

Lance is no longer pulling wildly at the controls, intentionally driving like it’s the first time he’s seen an aircraft. His posture is careful and relaxed, shoulders loose and easily moveable. But his jaw is clenched, like he does when he’s stressed, and Keith begins to notice a flashing light in the corner of the stats display.

“Lance.”

“Everything is under control,” he says quickly.

“…Lance.”

“We’re not going to crash or anything,” he amends. “I didn’t — screw it up.”

He glances backwards, quickly meeting Keith’s eye, and Keith notices that his expression is pleading. Keith swallows the comment he wants to make and nods.

“But. Uh, the comm line to the team is cut off. Not sure why. Maybe the planet has bad signal? It was fine coming in. I’ll land and then we can investigate?”

It takes Keith a minute to realize that Lance is asking him. That Lance is looking at him to lead, as if Keith has ever ordered Lance around. As if it hasn’t been two ye — months. At least.

Keith clears his throat, looking away. “Yeah, dude. You’re piloting, your mission. Whatever you think is best.”

For once, Keith has said the right thing. The confirmation of control runs through Lance like a shiver, and a mix of confusion and relief and precious, precious hope flits through his dark eyes almost faster than Keith can register, then he’s turning back to face the control board.

“Cool. Hold on, there’s not much to land on here so it’ll be bumpy.”

It is bumpy. Honestly, Keith is surprised at how deftly Lance and Red land, for all he has to clench his hands around the armrests — this planet is truly just a thick nest of towering trees and curling vines. Lance has to slink Red between two trees and have her land curled around the base of one, because there just isn’t any space for her to touch down regularly.

“You managed not to kill us,” Keith tries, smiling.

Lance stares at him critically for a moment. Then, wonderfully, beautifully, miraculously, his expression clears, and he decides Keith is being genuine. The tiniest of smiles turn up his own lips, and he shrugs.

“Well, duh. I’m the best pilot out of the two of us, after all. Let’s go.”

He’s out the door before Keith can retort — maybe something along the lines of you literally ruin every single bonding moment we have ever had you actual twerp-brained fucker — and Keith is quick to follow. Any attempt at dialogue dies on his tongue the second he’s exposed to the outside air — and the wall of wet heat that slams into him like a bull stampeding in the wrong direction.

“Jesus H Christ on a one wheeled motorbike,” he wheezes. Every inch of his skin is immediately drenched in sweat. He’s never regretted his gloves more, and wishes with every fibre of his being that he’d actually listened to Shiro for once and worn his (temperature- controlled) paladin armour.

Lance ignores him, beam lighting up his face. “Oh, it’s beautiful here!”

Keith can actually feel his shirt cling to his back like a second skin. It’s disgusting.

“Huh?”

Because yeah, the planet might be pretty. It’s almost greener than Keith can comprehend – trees so tall Keith can’t even see the canopy; trunks covered in moss and vines; wide-leafed, curling bushes and plants; tropical flowers making the air smell sweet and fragrant. Keith watches as a gecko patters down a branch to rest in a patch of dappled sunlight. Pretty, sure.

But Keith is pretty sure he’s actually breathing in water. The air is so goddamn humid he’s not sure there’s actually any air in it, and he is sticky. Beautiful places are not sticky.

Lance is already frolicking around like a goddamn nature fairy. He tugs off his jacket, tying it around his waist, but other than that he seems to revel in the humidity, breathing in deeply like he’s used to inhaling what is essentially gasified mist instead of air. He grins at the greenery like it’s familiar, despite the fact that they’ve never even glanced at this entire quadrant the entire time they’ve been in space, let alone this planet.

“You live to thrive wherever I do not,” Keith mutters, irrationally angry at Lance’s lack of suffering. He scowls at his back and says, louder, “We have a mission.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance dismisses, still in the trance-like glee. He twirls around to face a huge, fern like plant, reaching up to caress the leaves and pet the back of a beetle. “You and I both know it’s busywork.“

“Yeah, well, it’s an official mission and we’re Paladins of Voltron, so. Personally I take that pretty seriously.”

It’s a low blow, as bad or worse as his piloting comment earlier. He winces as soon as he says it – Jesus, when did he start trying to piss Lance off – but luckily Lance doesn’t hear or doesn’t care, already twenty feet down some random path. Keith groans quietly and stomps after him.

Ten minutes ago, Lance could have suggested they turn around and leave and Keith would’ve been on-board. Now, as stupid as it is, Lance’s delight in this planet annoys him. It’s not fair that he’s amusing himself, and Keith is miserable. They’re supposed to both be miserable.

Somehow, though, he manages to keep his commentary to himself. Part of it is watching as Lance seems to…glow, on this planet, as strange as that is to notice. The giant smile has not left his face, and the yellow sunlight trickling through the leaves looks good on him. He hums as he walks, dancing under bent branches, even refraining from holding them back so Keith can get through and waiting until Keith is just barely past before snapping the branch back so Keith gets smacked in the face. And that’s one of his favourite hobbies.

He must be in a really good mood, if he’s not finding an excuse to smack Keith.

“Can we find some stupid fruit or something and get out of here,” Keith complains, finally having had enough. Have they actually been hiking for hours? Keith feels like he’s been hiking for hours. He feels like he’s seen the same eight plants nine hundred times. Everything has coalesced into a sea of green and he’s hot, goddamnit, and he’s never regretted an all-black ensemble more in his life. Maybe he listens to Shiro next time. Well, unlikely, but –

Something smacks him in the face, and he yelps.

He bends down to grab the weapon, seething as he hears Lance’s snickering, and comes up with some kind of round, firm…thing.

“Fruit,” Lance supplies. “Feel free to head back to Red. You go back to the others and they’ll send your ass right back, catboy. You know as well as I do.”

Keith knows this. Of course he does. But it pisses him off that Lance is so blase about it, like Keith doesn’t know, that he clenches the fruit-thing in his fists and actually does stomp back to Red, leaving Lance to take a hike.

“God he is so annoying,” he mutters to no one, aggressively biting the fruit. It’s delicious, which only serves to make him angrier. He puts on a high, mocking voice. “You go back to the others and they’ll send you back, blah blah blah. As if I don’t know that. As if I’m dumb.”

It’s relieving to get back into Red’s interior. It’s not exactly AC, but it certainly isn’t humid central, and any break from that heat is a welcome one. He sits heavily in the pilot’s chair, relishing in the familiarity of it, and sulks.

Or, well, he tries to.

The thing about sulking is that it gets very boring very quickly. That’s why he usually expresses his sulking through incredible violence, and why he misses the castle’s training room so much. That place was great. All Keith had to do was press a button and boom, he was being attacked. The literal dream.

Bored, he swings his legs over the armrest, opening his bayard and examining it. It’s weird to have such a contentious thing. Knowing all the blood it spilled in Zarkon’s name…it’s no wonder that his brother was so quick to get rid of it. But still, it’s a tool. A tool cannot be blamed for its master’s action, that much Keith had learned in the Blades.

He lets the blade glow and shrink in his hold until its back in its dormant position. He can’t very well train in here, as much as he would like to. Both Red and Lance would kill him, probably.

Red makes a keening noise in his head. It’s the loudest he’s heard from her in…too long, and it startles him.

“What?”

Her presence in his head gets stronger, more insistent.

“What?” he repeats, sitting straight up. “What, girl, what’s going on?”

He yelps as the floor shifts under him – Red stands up, unwinding herself from around the tree. A growl reverberates through the entire ship, making the control board vibrate. A bad feeling begins to take root somewhere in his stomach.

“Red?! Red, what’s –”

Before he can finish, she opens her great maw, and literally spits him out. She doesn’t leave him time to get offended, nudging him forward the second he gets to his feet. She growls again when he looks back at her, tilting her head at the path Lance disappeared down.

All at once, Keith gets it.

He sprints. Bayard elongating in his hand, he runs as fast as he can, hacking away branches and vines with ease – when he chances a look down, he sees that it’s taken the form of a machete. His first bayard change.

He does not have time to celebrate it.

He can barely hear it over the sound of his own pounding feet, but there’s a rumbling, somewhere in the distance. Keith has been hearing it for a while – he thought it was Red, or maybe just jungle noises.

Now, he hears the human voice responding to it.

Something is wrong.

“Please don’t be doing something stupid,” he prays, pushing himself faster. It’s not easy. Keith is in good shape, but the humidity is knocking the hell out of him – every breath feels like it’s getting half the oxygen it should. He’s tiring fast. But the noises are getting louder, closer, and yep, that’s definitely Lance’s voice. Keith isn’t exactly sure what he’s saying, but he knows the voice, of course he knows the voice, it’s the only one that never left his head once in two years. In a last burst of strength, he sprints toward the sound, slashing a near-solid block of vines.

He slashes the last layer of vines back, thrusting forward, and very heroically lands on his face.

“Lance!” he shouts, jumping back to his feet. He whirls around, sure this is where he heard the growls interspersed with Lance’s murmuring. But he can’t see him anywhere.

“Here,” sighs a voice.

Keith looks up and barely chokes back a scream.

Swinging from a vine, wrapped up to his neck in a cocoon of them, is Lance – but it isn’t a vine. It’s thick like one, and smooth, but bright white. And…gloopy, almost, because Lance is not wrapped in a bunch of vines but in strands and strands of silk, and perched on – or maybe clinging to – his swinging body is the biggest spider Keith has ever seen.

“Get off him!” Keith yells, proud of himself for how little his voice shakes.

“Oh, great plan, Keith. Order the animal around. I’m sure it’ll heed your demands and cut me free.”

Keith flushes. “Shut up,” he hisses. “Victims of Miss Spider’s Sunny Patch Gone Wrong don’t get to snark!”

Lance shrugs. “You’re welcome to climb on up here and get me to shut up.”

As if in understanding, the spider hisses, scuttling down Lance’s body and lunging towards Keith, snapping its fangs. Keith shrieks and jumps back. Luckily, the spider doesn’t go past Lance’s head.

“She’s outta webs,” Lance explains. He doesn’t even flinch as the spider’s massive butt – spinnerets and all – rest on his forehead. Keith gags. “She won’t get too close to you, you’re too threatening –”

“I’m threatening?!”

“– so you’re in no danger. You can put the weapon away.”

“Put the weapon away – Lance, did it already suck out your brains?”

Lance glares hard at him. The effect is significantly lessened as the string of webbing he’s hanging from slowly turns, forcing his eyes away from Keith, and then also, well. The massive fuckin’ bug sitting on his forehead. So.

“No, she didn’t suck out my brains. She’s an animal, Keith, not dumb. Eating me would be stupid and a massive waste. I’m too big. I just freaked her out, is all. I should’ve been more careful in approaching her web.”

Keith places his face in his hands and yells. Just – screams, for a minute. He can’t believe he ever missed this asshole. He lived two blissful, blissful years without having to deal with any of this shit.

And now, massive spiders.

Great.

“I hate you,” Keith says.

Lance nods, shrugging again. “Fair. Can’t leave without me, though.”

“I think I might. I’ll tell Allura you died tragically. Moment of silence, blah blah. Then I go home and have a lovely, quiet flight the whole time.”

“Hm, that won’t work. Hunk will be desolate. Inconsolable, I would even say.”

Keith sighs. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, matching Lance’s grin. He cannot believe his own brain’s betrayal, allowing itself to be amused by Lance’s stupid jokes.

“What am I gonna do about the spider, Lance.”

At its – hers, whatever – name, it hisses again. Lance remains unphased. He wriggles a little, even, as if the sharp fangs aren’t inches away from his eyeballs.

“I’m working on it, gimme a sec.”

Keith aquieses. He wants to slash through the stupid binds and be done with everything, but he’s worried that the spider might be faster than he is and hurt Lance before he can get the chance. If he can just find a way to smack the spider off…

“Hm. I got an idea. Keith, grab my comm.”

Keith bites back a comment about who should be ordering whom around, edging gingerly around the hissing spider to scoop up Lance’s dropped comm. He clicks it on, tapping in Lance’s password – 3425, spelling D-I-C-K – and holding it loosely in his freehand.

“Got it.”

“Great. Okay, open my spider translator app.”

“Your – what.”

“Spider translator app,” Lance explains patiently. “Been working on it with Coran. Spiders communicate mostly via pheromones, but a lot of ‘em use clicks, especially threateningly. I remember how to say ‘hi’ and ‘no harm’, and I think I remember the sound for ‘food’? But I’m not sure and I don’t want to say ‘no harm food’ but accident, or something dumb like that, ‘cause then she might get the wrong idea. I’m hoping for something closer to ‘no food’ or ‘bad food’. I think she kind of gets it, but she’s still spooked. If I click at her she might think I’m another spider, let me go. If all else fails we’ll use the pheromones Coran and I have stored in Red’s shipping dock, but that stuff really reeks and doesn’t really wash out so I’d rather not.”

Keith’s head starts to hurt. Vaguely, he starts to wonder if he hit his head somewhere and is now dreaming, but unfortunately this brand of weird is pretty regular Lance. It’s just been a while since Keith has been in full force of it.

Plus, Coran has clearly been enabling.

“I have Seen Things,” Keith says, stabbing at the stupid comm. The app is front and centre. It is used more than the actual communication app, Keith knows that because he finds the stupid spider app in seconds and literally cannot find the communication app. He is going to kill this boy, the second he makes sure he’s safe. “So many things in space, Lance. So many of them horrible. So many of them strange. You remember the blob people that talked by pissing? I remember the blob people that talked by pissing. That is less weird than this, Lance.”

The translation app is pretty intuitive. Keith will give him that. He finds a translation for ‘bad food’ pretty quickly, but can’t read what it says for the life of him. He glances up, taking in the spider and the sheer fucking size of it, and slowly extends his hand so Lance can see the comm screen. His fingers tremble ever so slightly.

Lance has to strain his neck slightly to see the screen. Keith resists the urge to yell. But he quickly makes a series of clicks and tongue-sounds, attracting even more of the spider’s attention. It stares at him with all eight of its eyes for several minutes.

Then it turns, scuttling slightly away from Lance’s face. Keith lets out a huge sigh of relief – too soon – as the spider sinks its fangs in Lance’s chest.

Keith screams.

“Will you chill out!” Lance scolds. Keith’s screams only get louder, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “She is eating the silk, Keith, Jesus, stop yelling! I’m fine!”

“I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you –”

In minutes there’s a thunk, and a muffled “Ow.” When Keith looks up, Lance is sprawled on the ground, rubbing his wrist, and the spider is nowhere to be found.

“Are you physically fucking capable,” he says slowly, “of just – not doing stupid shit? Like at all? Maybe once.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Lance retorts. He has a startling amount of dignity for someone with spider silk in his hair, still sat on the hard ground. “Your ass got stuck on the back of some whale for two years. Embarrassing.”

It is embarrassing, so Keith can’t retort. He makes a face and hopes it’s sufficient, but then Lance makes one right back, and he looks so fucking stupid in the fucking jungle and also kind of good for some reason and Keith’s heart is just barely slowing down, now, and his hands still shake and Lance just spoke fucking spider and Keith just.

He loses it, a little.

He starts laughing and he can’t stop, and its so stupid, and he’s so fucking hot. His knees get weak and he’s landing on his ass, gasping for breath, Lance wheezing as he leans against Keith for support that he can’t even give. Who knows what other horrors lay in this stupid jungle – he and Lance are so loud they’re practically inviting them over – but Keith can’t stop for the life of him. His brain feels disconnected from his body. His stomach hurts so freaking badly. Every time he looks at Lance he loses it again.

“Please take the fucking silk out of your hair,” he tries to say. Every word is interrupted by a wheezy giggle, so it doesn’t do much, but luckily Lance runs his hands through his hair anyways and it clings to his fingers instead.

He calms, finally, keeping his attention on the strand of white silk, watching Lance’s thin fingers fiddle with it. He finally manages to calm down, too, taking huge breaths and trying to steady himself.

“So,” Lance says when they can breathe again, “I’m sorry.”

“You should be, asshole. I thought you were gonna get eaten.”

“Oh, I’m not sorry about the spider. That was an honest misunderstanding.”

Keith sighs. For his own peace of mind, he convinces himself that Lance is joking. “What are you sorry for, then?”

Lance fiddles with the edge of his jacket. Keith notices, for the first time, that the tightly woven silk left red, raised welts around his skin. It must have been tight.

“I’ve been. A little. Standoff-ish. Perhaps.”

Keith snorts. “A little?”

“A lot,” Lance amends, smiling. He punches Keith’s shoulder. It is not gentle. “I missed you, Dropout. I didn’t expect to, and I didn’t like that I did. Misplaced aggression, all that.”

“You’ve matured remarkably in my absence,” Keith observes. He dodges Lance’s kick, but only barely. His smile hurts his face. “You’re almost, like…a real, functioning person now.”

“I take it back. You’re annoying. I didn’t miss you, all the letters I wrote you are a lie, in fact you can actually fuck right back off –”

Keith stills. “Letters.”

“– to the space whale, actually. See if I care.” Lance clears his throat. His face is getting steadily more flushed, and oh God it has nothing to do with the heat does it. “I don’t, in case that’s unclear –”

“Lance,” Keith says, a little more forcefully. Because – because oh God, this means. This means. “What do you mean, letters?”

“A new alphabet I came up with in my spare time,” Lance snaps, shoving Keith back and getting to his feet. “What do you think, you idiot.”

He tries to walk off, but Keith doesn’t let him. He wraps his hand around his wrist and tugs him back – too forcefully, accidentally, and Lance yelps as he stumbles right into Keith’s lap. Keith doesn’t stop him from moving frantically back, a little warm himself.

“Lance.” His tone is urgent. “Lance, I wrote you letters too.”

Finally, he stops squirming. “You did?”

“Yes. I don’t know if I can – I mean, I don’t have any here, but they’re stashed in Black, I couldn’t leave – oh.”

Lance’s lips are pressed to his.

Lance’s lips.

Are pressed.

To his.

Lance is kissing him.

“Oh – oh.”

“Man, you really are an idiot.”

His harsh words are significantly softened because they’re, y’know, mumbled into his mouth. Keith can’t quite bring himself to complain about that one, really, since Lance is warm but not suffocatingly slow and his mouth keeps curving into a smile and his lips are soft and. And. For once he’s too preoccupied to pick a real fight.

Keith can live with him like this, he thinks.

“My letters.” Keith pulls away slightly, clearing his throat. “You can’t. Read them.”

Lance tilts his head. “Why?”

Embarrassed, Keith gestures between the two of them. “This didn’t – occur to me, Lance. So.”

A shit-eating grin curls across the Red Paladin’s face. “What didn’t occur to you, hot stuff?”

“You know,” Keith warns, glaring. His ears feel like they’re burning, and not just because of the stupid nickname.

“I don’t!”

“You do, asshole, because you’re smirking like you do.” “No need to get presumptuous, Keithy. I simply do not understand. What didn’t occur to you –” he leans in again, breath tickling Keith’s neck and making him shudder – “me? Like…this? Close to you?” He presses a small kiss to the underside of Keith’s jaw. “...Liking you, maybe?” Keith’s breathing is embarrassingly heavy for what’s barely a little kissing. He tries desperately to get himself under control, but with Lance so, so close… “Or was it yourself you didn’t understand, hm? Wax a lot of poetic about me in those letters?”

Keith did. It’s true. He remembers one humiliating instance where he, in frustration of forgetting the details, tried to map out Lance’s face – the freckles that dot his nose, the shine of his brown eyes when he makes a perfect shot, the curve of his wide grin. He’s pretty sure ‘sparkling’ was used in description at least twice, which is…bad.

In a last ditch effort, Keith gets his hands on Lance’s chest, lays his palms back, and shoves. When he’s flat on his back against the jungle floor, eyes wide and head tilted back to watch Keith’s face, Keith kisses him quiet.

It works.

It works very well.

“Okay, we gotta – we gotta – not that this isn’t great, it is, but we gotta –”

Finally, Lance is the flustered one, the wordless one. Keith relishes in the feeling.

“Keith, get off, we –”

Finally, Lance succeeds in pushing Keith back. He rests on his heels, pouting (and subsequently ignoring the fact that he’s pouting, because, what kind of witchcraft).

“We have to go,” Lance says sternly. “Okay? We can – do this later. We gotta get back.”

Keith huffs. “They’re the ones who sent us away. They can deal for a few hours.”

“It’s been a few hours,” Lance reminds him. “Let’s just go, okay? Lots of excitement for one day.” He tilts his head back, smirking. “If we leave now I’ll set Red on autopilot and we can make out on the way back.”

Cold air in Red’s cockpit? Backdrop of stars and space? Somewhere to be that isn’t a jungle floor?

“Sold,” Keith says, hastily getting to his feet. The walk back to the Lion is the least complaining Keith has ever done about anything, even in his own head.

Right before they walk into Red’s waiting and open mouth, Lance plucks a yellow, curved fruit from a tree. He tosses it to Keith, grinning widely.

“Mission accomplished.”

–––

happy holidays colleen :DD

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